He makes his move, and bounces off Hurley who is suddenly between them.
– Terry would'nae want yous two fightin'.
I'm on my side, spitting and snorting blood.
– Yeah, guys, dad's gonna be mad when he gets home and sees you can't get along.
Tom just about jumps out of his shoes trying to get at me, but Hurley puts a hand on his shoulder and he freezes. Hurley turns his head and looks at me.
– Maybe you best oughta shut yer trap, Joe.
I'm looking at the little puddle of blood on the floor in front of my face and thinking about sucking it up.
– Yeah, yeah, maybe you're right, Hurl. Hell, even you can have a good idea sometimes.
He grunts.
– 'Member dat last time ya smarted off, Joe?
– Yeah.
– I wuz gentle on ya dat time.
I shut up. He looks from Lydia to Tom.
– Yous two oughta shake hands, show dere ain't no hard feelin's.
Tom groans.
– Fucking come on.
Lydia sticks her hand out.
– He's right, Tom. We're all on the same side here. We can't let our tempers get the better of us.
She's smiling at him. He takes her hand. She squeezes. It's not obvious, Hurley misses it. Tom yanks his hand back and takes a swipe at her.
– Fuckin' bitch!
Hurley blocks the punch and gives Tom a gentle push that sends him reeling to the far wall.
– OK, Tom, take a walk.
– The fuck?
– Terry would'nae like dis. So take a walk, get some air.
– It's light out.
– So go upstairs.
– But that fucking-
Hurley raises a finger.
– OK, that's cool, that's cool, I'm cool. I'll go up. But I want that fucking spy back in his cell.
Hurley shrugs.
– Sure.
He takes two steps, scoops me up and dumps me back in the closet. The door closes and the chain is drawn back into place. I hear Tom start up the basement steps and then stop.
– Lydia, you're right, we're on the same side. I'll remember that, baby.
A door opens and closes and he's gone. A chair creeks heavily as Hurley sits down.
– See, dat's better. Everybody gettin' along.
– He says he's an anarchist, but really he's a fascist. You know he wanted uniforms? He actually wanted to get T-shirts or armbands or something for all the members of the Society. Not only that, but he wanted affiliations to be indicated on the uniforms, different symbols depending on whether you're one of his Anarchists or in the Lesbian, Gay and Other-Gendered Alliance or the Communist Manifesto or whatever your Society Affiliate might be. He said it would make for unity, so we could identify one another on the street. What he's really after is a system of classification. He wants to know where his enemies are so he can take care of them when he's ready. And he says he backs the goals of the LGOGA, but I can tell we freak him out. I mean, before I got infected, the infected queers weren't even organized, let alone represented on the council. Now he has us in his face at every meeting. Little fascist prick. And he's making a bid for Security Chief? He's already half a Stalin. Give him a badge and he'll go full-blown Hitler.
She's sitting at the table out there, eating a bowl of whatever veggie stew Tom had been mixing up.
– If he ever does take charge of security he's not gonna be too happy about having you around, Hurley. He likes using your muscle now, but if he gets the chance, he'll have his Anarchists in jackboots and carrying truncheons and he won't need your help knocking people out. That's why we need to keep an eye on each other's backs.
– I keep a eye on everybody's back, Lydia. Jus' like Terry tells me to.
– Yes, but are Terry's interests yours? Are you going to spend your whole life letting him make decisions for you?
– It's worked OK so far.
– Yes, I see that, but-
I can't listen to this with the cramps hitting me. One or the other, but please not both. I decide to do something about it.
– Hey, Lydia.
Silence.
– Lydia.
– What?
– There's nothing I'd like more than to listen to you trying to make Hurley understand the politics of personal empowerment, but I'm hurting a little in here.
– Yeah, you looked a little rough around the edges.
– Maybe I could get that blood I tapped.
– Sorry, Joe, that's Exhibit A in Tom's case against you. As much as I hate the little prick I can't mess with evidence.
– Got any you could spare?
– No.
– Uh-huh. Well seeing as I'm all cuffed up maybe you could let me out of here.
– No. I think you're going to have to stay in there until Terry gets back from the Hood.
– Any idea when that's gonna be?
– Could be tonight, could be a couple nights. Depends on when they can get him safe passage.
Couple nights.
– So maybe you can call him?
– He doesn't want us calling him up there. He thinks the Coalition may have some people inside a couple of the service providers. They could tap landlines and cell signals. He's worried they might find out when and how he's coming back down. Sounds a little paranoid to me, like maybe he's been listening to Tom, but why take the chance.
– Yeah, that's great, Lydia, but see, there's this girl out there that I need to find.
– Woman.
– No, girl. The kind young enough to get raped by her daddy.
She comes a little closer to the door.
I don't know much about Lydia, but I know enough. I know that just a couple years back she was at NYU, finishing her thesis on Radical Gender Roles. I know she was a big player in campus politics. I know she used to teach women's self-defense classes. I also know a desperate Rogue tried to jump her one night and got eye-gouged and groin-punched for his trouble. But not before he bit a hole in her cheek. What I hear, it turned out she knew some people that she didn't even know she knew. They noticed when she started getting sick. Guess these friends got her through and hooked her up with Terry. I think the biggest shock for her was discovering that Vyrus-infected lesbians and gays were completely unorganized. She took care of that.
She's a tough enough nut, but she's young. Literally young, under twenty-five. She's still soft on the inside, still holding the values and feelings she had before she was infected. Hell, most everybody does. Then they grow up, or they die.
– So why do you care, Joe?
– Truth is, I don't. Just a job to me. But I figure you probably care
– You're a piece of work, Joe.
– Little girl out there, no one to help her.
– A real motherfucker.
– All alone.
– So tell me where she is, I'll help her.
– Don't know where she is. That's why I need out of here. So I can find out.
– How you planning to do that?
– Gonna beat on a guy.
– So tell me the guy's name, I'll beat on him.
– Yeah, I know you'd be into that. Thing is, the guy lives above Fourteenth. And he's connected. You go up there, hand a beating to this guy, could be political repercussions.
– I see that. But there's another thing.
– Yeah?
– I got no reason to believe you. How about that, Joe? Any reason I should be listening to this?
- I got a reason to lie? Say it's crap and you let me out. Where am I gonna go? I leave the neighborhood and I'm dust. I stay in the neighborhood and you guys can pick me up whenever you want. Where do I run?
– Uptown.
– Any deals I have with those guys only work 'cause I'm down here. I try to live above Fourteenth and suddenly I'm not so useful. You hear what Dexter Predo does when someone stops being useful?
– Yeah.
– Well it ain't no lie.
She's quiet again.
- She's fourteen, Lydia. And her name's Amanda.
I work my fingers into my jacket pocket. They took my gun, my knife, my works and the blood I tapped, but the picture's there. I take it out and slip it under the door.