And now he had The Chill.
The waitress said, “Here you go,” and Davey went to work on a steaming plate of eggs decorated by bacon and toast. He had forgotten to order milk but there it was before him anyway, meaning The Chill had been at work again. The waitress never knew what had hit her.
Of course with The Chill came The Vibes, and The Vibes were bad, scary. Davey had felt them first the day before yesterday during rush hour while wandering around Times Square and Forty-second Street. Something had made him stop dead and he’d looked up ahead at a corner and seen a car accident. Well, he hadn’t exactly seen it because it hadn’t happened yet. The Vibes showed it to him. And, as he stood with his sneakers frozen to the pavement, a tan Ford sped through a red light and bashed into the driver’s side of a blue Chevy — just the way he had seen it maybe a half minute before. Of course it could have been coincidence but Davey knew it wasn’t. And if he hadn’t known, what happened last night would have erased all doubt.
He was coming out of the movies down near Broadway, an old James Bond double feature with Sean Connery — his favorite — when The Vibes struck again. He saw something happening right in front of him, but he knew it wasn’t real because the scenery was all wrong, not the street he was on. So he watched the action unfold the same way he had watched celluloid images for four hours on the big screen.
A black man in a long purple coat slapped a white girl dressed in black leather pants hard in the face. The girl’s platinum blond hair tumbled over her eyes and she reeled back. Davey caught a glimpse of her features which were as white as her shiny blouse.
“No tramp holds out on me!” the purple shape with the black face shouted. And he moved for the girl with something glimmering in his hand.
Davey knew what was coming next but he watched it anyway, the same way you do in a horror movie, cowering to your seat and digging your fingers into the armrests.
The black man thrust the knife forward. Davey heard it thud into the girl’s stomach. She gasped horribly, sliding down the brick wall, her hands clutching the wound as if to hold her insides in place. Her eyes had already glazed over when her leather pants met the sidewalk. Her fingers slipped away, allowing the rest of her life to pour out and make a pool on the cement.
Then the image faded and Davey just stood there looking at the street as it really was, knowing the scene would play itself out again before long, only this time it would be for real. He walked on with no destination in mind, somehow ending up in a darkened section of Forty-fourth Street which looked strangely familiar because it was the setting he had just been shown by The Vibes.
A voice shouting, “No tramp holds out on me!” forced him to shrink back against the chain front of a closed fruit store. He couldn’t see much of what was happening down the street a hundred feet away, but he’d already seen it once and that was plenty. There was the sound of the knife parting the girl’s flesh and the dying gurgle which followed. Davey waited till he was sure the purple-coated black was gone before approaching because he had to know, had to be sure.
The girl sat propped up by the brick building, head tilted toward the gaping wound in her stomach and blond hair almost reaching it. Davey held his breath and looked down to see the pool of blood that was creeping toward the tips of his sneakers. He bolted off, stealing one last glance back, and somehow made it to the rooming house where he had spent the night and his last five dollars.
But it didn’t matter. The Chill would take care of him. He could handle The Chill but The Vibes were something he’d rather be rid of. It was no fun knowing when something awful was about to happen. Still, The Vibes would warn him if the Men were near and that warning was something he desperately needed.
Davey scraped his plate clean and moved to the cash register. The waitress took his check, the register jangled, and she read him the amount rung up.
“That’ll be $2.40.”
Davey smiled, made The Chill.
The girl handed him a five-dollar bill. “Please come again.”
Davey said he would and moved back into the street. It was still cold, freezing for spring, and Davey noticed he was the only one on the street without a jacket. That made him stand out, too easy for the Men to find, and besides he was shivering again. So he had to get a coat to keep the cold out and the Men away. Leather would be nice. He had always wanted a leather jacket. It would mean a walk to Seventh Avenue, but that wouldn’t be a problem, especially if he did it later during the lunch-time rush hour. In a million faces, the Men would never be able to spot him. Then he could ditch back to Forty-second Street and Times Square and melt into the scenery of hundreds of kids who looked pretty much alike. They’d never find him. And if they did, there was always The Chill.
What he really wanted to do was go home, especially now after two days on the streets. But The Vibes got scrambled when he just thought about that, as if they were telling him that was the wrong thing to do at this point. Davey listened.
He started to walk. Maybe he’d find a twenty-four hour movie theater to kill some time. Maybe he’d just walk….
Something made him stop suddenly. It was like The Vibes he had felt last night only a hundred times worse, a hot wind that buckled the cold and struck him in the face. His flesh turned to glass, started to break, to shatter. Then the heat nearly swept him off his feet. Woozy, he moved to a stopped bus and leaned against it. The weird feeling in his face was gone. Even if his flesh had turned to glass for an instant, none of it had broken so everything was okay.
But something was coming. Davey had felt it pierce the cold air just like the blade had split the girl’s stomach the night before. The strongest Vibes he’d felt yet, only this time he couldn’t see what they were trying to tell him. It was vague, hazy, distant. It was coming, though, and it was going to be awful. He didn’t know how he knew that, he just did; and, boy, he didn’t want to be around when it got there.
Shuddering, Davey pushed himself away from the bus and rejoined the flow of people.
Chapter Six
Bane arrived at Kennedy early for his meeting with Jake Del Gennio. Maybe that was why security had not been given word yet to clear him for entry into the tower. No matter. Bane had a way of appearing to belong wherever he wanted to. The guard’s resistance melted quickly, and he informed Bane that the briefing room where he was supposed to meet Jake was on the third level. Bane thanked him.
It was eight-fifteen so Del Gennio would surely be up there already. Bane found the briefing room easily and saw a man hovering over a cup of coffee in the corner. The Swan.
“Morning, Jake.”
The man turned. It wasn’t Del Gennio.
“Sorry, I thought you were Jake Del Gennio,” Bane apologized.