Sara was tied in her wheelchair each morning and she sat mutely and docilely watching the people coming, going, giving medication, caring for patients, making beds, mopping floors, going about their daily and various chores, her mind and eyes moist with tears. Voices and noises mingled and clanged through the ward unnoticed by Sara. She sat mutely. They continued to pass her by as she waited… waited for someone to come to her, to talk to her… to help her. They did come to her. They came to prepare her for another shock treatment. Sara wept.
Harry and Tyrone were holding out a little more on each other each day. If one guy somehow got caught short and his nose and eyes were running and his body shivering as they scuffled and hustled the street trying to cop, and asked the other one to give him a taste, the guy swore up and down he had nothing, that he had just done in his cottons, and he would start shaking, trying to fake his friend out.
They roamed the streets in the snow, the sleet, fighting the freezing winds, sometimes hustling from one spot to another all night, always just missing the connection, and other times they were able to cop within a couple of hours. Everywhere they went there were thousands of sick junkies trying to cop or get cop money, and when they did get their hands on some shit they split to get off, but they didn’t always make it and dying and dead bodies littered the hallways and debris of abandoned buildings. Like the others, Harry and Tyrone ignored the bodies and remained huddled in their jackets and their needs, saying nothing to each other, saving their energies to find someone who was holding. Then they would get off and cut the bags as much as possible and off as much as they could and start the search all over again.
When Marion was home alone, she would take out her stash and look at the bags, enjoying the feeling of power and security she felt. She was seeing Big Tim a couple of times a week. Now she told Harry she was only getting six bags, that was why she was going so often. Harry didnt even bother wondering if he believed her or not, he just took three of the bags, not telling Tyrone about it, and whenever he copped he always held back a few bags on Marion, and when the pangs of conscience started to disturb him they were readily dissolved by the heroin.
Occasionally Marion would notice her sketch pads and pencils and the memory of the plans for the coffee house and some other vague memories started to work their way to her consciousness, but she just pushed them aside and stared at the tube, thinking about her stash. A few times the pangs of remorse would start to unnerve her as she stared at a scene of sunny Italy in a Cinzano ad, but she just reminded herself that she had been, and a bag of good stuff was a hell of a lot better than a mob of garlic smelling italians.
Harry and Tyrone were standing in the wet snow, freezin their asses off, waiting for the connection, again, and listening to the other dudes talk about how all the big time connections were in Florida sittin on their mutha fuckin asses in the sun while they were up here ass deep in the mutha fuckin snow. Yeah, an those mutha fuckas sitting on all that dope too jus to git the fuckin price up jim and thats the onlyest reason they doin it. Sheeit, they be a bunch a stoned mutha fuckas man, ah mean they be some stoooooned pricks jim. Harry and Tyrone had heard the same old bullshit a million times just like the rest of them, but they never tired of listening and nodding their heads, just like everyone else, cursing the bastards for starting the panic just so they could make more money when they were fuckin millionaires a dozen fuckin times over already. The intensity of their anger not only helped pass the time, but helped create a little much needed inner warmth. By the time they finally did cop that night they were numb with the cold and had a difficult time walking. Harry stopped off at Tyrones to get off before continuing to Marions. They sat around smoking and relaxing when Harry started thinking about those pricks who were sittin in the sun and wondered what would happen if someone went down there to cop. Tyrone looked at him with droopy eyes, What you talkin about? Whatta my talking about? just what I said. Everybodys up here scufflin just to stay alive and still gettin ripped off or knocked off, and nobodys thought about goin right to the fuckin source man. What the fuck you talkin about? goin up to the mutha fuckin room clerk at some hotel an askin for a connection? Sheeit. Comeon Ty, get with, eh? You tellin me you cant nose out some dope when its around? Thas here man. The Apples mah neighborhood. What the fuck ah know about Miami? Them mutha fuckin eyetzlians aint sitting aroun jus waitin for me to show up jim. I/ll take care of that. I know how those bastards operate. Thats no sweat. Tyrone looked at him for a few seconds, Thas a long ass walk jim. Not if youre drivin. Look man, its coleran hell and those streets are hotteran a bitch. Guys are gettin knocked off like theyre giving blue chip stamps with every dead dope fiend. Man, we got nothing to lose, Harrys enthusiasm increasing the more he talked about it. Tyrone was scratching his head, If its such a good idea then why aint somebody else thought of it? Because theyre assholes. Harry was sitting on the edge of his chair, his face glazed with sweat. And thats just it, nobody else has thought of it. Its wide open. Tyrone continued scratching and nodding, an if we can get there before anyone else we can name our own price and sit back an be cool and have those fools scufflin the streets for us. Tyrone continued scratching, Las summer was a ball jim, he suddenly frowned and tilted his head, seem like a thousan years since las summer. Sheeit. Itll be back like that after we get some weight. Why doan we fly down there? We be there an back in one mutha fuckin day. Harry was shaking his head, No man. No fuckin good. We/ll need a fuckin short when we get there, right? Tyrone nodded. An we can get there in a day easy. We got enough shit to last an we can get some uppers from Marion. No problem. Tyrone had been scratching and looking up at the ceiling. Gogit could probably get us a short easy enough we promise him some dynamite scag. That mutha fucka can dig up anythin, even the daid. Harry laughed and continued nodding energetically, their desperation making everything seem so simple, An its warm in Florida man.
Harry told Marion that they had heard where there was some dynamite shit and asked her for some money. The more we get the better off we are. Where you getting it? Harry shrugged, Cant really say, but its out of state. Be a few days or so, you know. Marion thought for a few seconds, I dont know Harry, Im just about out of the rent money now. Dont sweat it. In a couple a days we/ll have a sack full a shit and plenty of bread. Marion thought for another moment, knowing she could spare a hundred dollars without any trouble and thinking it would be great to have even more dope than she had. And too, she would be completely free for a few days and she could keep all the stuff she got from Tim, and if she saw him every day she would have a nice taste stashed. Okay, Harry, I can give you a hundred dollars, but I have to have it back before the end of the month, I need it for my rent. Harry dismissed her concern with a wave of the hand, We/re gonta be doing some driving so youd better lay some of those uppers on me. We want to make this a fast trip.
Marion called Big Tim after Harry left and in a short time she was on her way downtown, thinking of how many bags she would have by the time Harry got back, feeling independent of Harry.
Gogit had no trouble getting them a car. It wasn’t much of a car, but it ran. A cousin was doing some time on Rikers and he conned his aunt out of the car, telling her he would take care of it so the tires wouldnt rot, and the battery get run down, or the kids strip it to the frame some night.