“A little probably. I got shot.”
“Goddammit.”
“And stabbed.”
Candy is still hovering over me.
“Let me at least help you up.”
I drag myself to my feet.
“No. No one gets near me until I clean up.”
“Hurry your ass,” Allegra says. “I want to see those wounds.”
I look over at the sofa.
“How’s Fuck Hollywood?”
“Stable. I gave her some herbs that I hope will help with the eating compulsion.”
“‘Compulsion.’ That’s a good word. The whole city’s going nuts and King Bullet is responsible. I’m sure of it.”
As I head to the kitchen, Allegra says, “Go straight into the bedroom when you’re done. I’ll treat you there. Not everyone needs to see your blood.”
I get a garbage bag and bring it into the bathroom. Strip and stuff all my clothes into it and tie it tight. Then I get in the shower.
Standing there is torture. Every part of me hurts, not just the bullet hole and stab wound, but the million little cuts and tears from the things in the black light. And what the hell kind of trick was that? Mason was as powerful a dark Sub Rosa piece of shit as I’ve ever known and I don’t think even he could have pulled that off. What does King Bullet know that the rest of us don’t?
I have to sit on the edge of the tub for a minute. As the adrenaline in my system winds down, the holes in my chest and back start to get to me. I have to hold on and breathe for a while until the dizziness passes.
When I can’t take the water anymore, I put on an old robe I pull off the back of the bathroom door and take the bag of clothes straight to the garbage chute in the hall. The landlord has painted over the King Bullet graffiti with a single coat of cheap white paint, but I can still see the fucker through it like a smug ghost.
Once I’ve dumped the trash, I head back to the bedroom and drop onto the mattress. Allegra is waiting and gives me a what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you look. She comes over and pokes at the kpinga wound in my back.
“Ow, goddammit,” I say.
She ignores my whining and says, “Flip over. I want to get a look at that bullet wound.”
I roll onto my back and she lets out a sigh.
“Jesus, Stark. What, did you get hit by a cannon?”
“A gold .45. If you’re going to get shot, a gold .45 is the classy way to do it.”
She uses one of Doc Kinski’s contraptions to examine my chest. A little gold box with tiny spiked wheels that—I think—lets her get a look inside me. It takes a while, but she actually grins a little when she understands that I’m not about to croak.
“Here’s the crazy thing,” she says. “You got shot in the chest, at what looks like close range.”
“All true.”
“But there’s no exit wound in your back. And from what I can see, the bullet isn’t lodged anywhere inside you.”
“You mean that asshole has some kind of magic bullets that disappear? Fuck that guy.”
She says, “No. I think the bullet went out of the stab wound in your back. What a crazy bit of luck, right?”
What a goddamn egomaniac. King Bullet is one prancing show pony show-off.
As she bandages my hand I say, “That wasn’t luck. He knew what he was doing. He was sending me a message.”
“What kind?”
“That he’s better than me. That he’s going to kill me and he’s going to have fun doing it.”
Allegra puts a cold purple salve on the bullet wound and says, “You really know the best people.”
“Don’t I just? Tell me more about Fuck Hollywood. Can you do something about her finger? Reattach it or something?”
“I’ve done what I could. Her little finger is back in place. Whether it will work properly or not, I don’t know. Her wounds were extensive.”
“I already killed the guy who infected her. That means when I take out King Bullet we’ll be almost even.”
“I don’t care about that. Roll over so I can work on your back wound.”
I do it and feel a stabbing pain in my side.
“I think he might have cracked a rib.”
“It’s not cracked, but he did nick one. There’s not much I can do for it. Do you want some painkillers?”
“You have painkillers and you didn’t give me any before now? Gimme. Everything you’ve got.”
She gives me a look.
“You can have one pill now and one tomorrow. After that you have to suffer and think about your sins.”
“That would take all year and I don’t have time.”
“Then just grit your teeth and try not to move around too much for a few days.”
“Will do. And thanks.”
“You want to thank me? Put on some damn pants and come into the living room. People are worried about you.”
“Give me a minute.”
After she goes out, I lie there, waiting for the pill to come on. While it does, I gather my thoughts.
So, that was King Bullet. He seems nice, in a Charlie Manson meets P. T. Barnum kind of way. What else did we learn tonight, children? He fights mean and he smells bad. And he likes the sound of his own voice. Plus, he has access to some peculiar hoodoo I’ve never seen before, even Downtown. And the bastard figured out who I was. Like he was waiting for me. Every part of me wants to find him fast and finish him, but I’m in no shape for that right now. Probably even tomorrow. But soon. Something started tonight and there’s no stopping it. One of us has to go.
I get dressed and head into the living room to reassure everybody that I’m in one piece. Honestly, what pisses me off the most right now is that the King cost me my coat. Luckily, Fuck Hollywood still has my old one. Yeah, it has a million holes and some of my dried blood on it, but it’s in one piece and will hold my weapons. I’ll just borrow it for now and give it back to her when she’s well again. And she will be well, if I have to march into Heaven and drag Mr. Muninn down here to perform a miracle.
Everyone has a million questions that I don’t want to answer. You get shot enough times, it’s the last thing you want to talk about. And anyway, I already told Allegra what happened. She can fill them in so I don’t have to fucking repeat myself. I go into the kitchen and call Janet. They’re still up, so I go right over.
When I get there, I’m a little nervous because of what happened earlier. But they pull me right inside and kiss my bruised face and raw knuckles.
I say, “I’m sorry for coming over so messed up again.”
“It’s okay. I had a feeling you might be. At least you cleaned up first.”
“I’m not going to be worth much of anything tonight.”
They smile and put a hand on my cheek.
“You want to tell me about what happened?”
“Only if you want to know.”
“I do. What you do still scares me, but I want to know all of you.”
They make coffee and I tell them about Fuck Hollywood getting hurt—though I leave out how—and then the riot. They actually listen. They get scared a few times and get a little teary when I tell them what King Bullet did to me. But they listen. They tell me about being scared of me sometimes and I listen too. We talk until I can’t talk anymore, and I fall asleep in their bed with them beside me. It feels good.
In the morning, Janet makes breakfast and I make coffee. Afterward, even though they feel like crap because of the cold, they go back to work on their music. With Donut Universe gone, it’s the only thing they have to fill the days.
I say, “I can stay here today if you want.”
They blow their nose and shoo me away.
“No. I’m gross and you’d be bored watching me poke at my laptop all day,” they say. “Besides, I know you want to check on Fuck Hollywood.”
“Yeah. I kind of do.”
“Then go. We’ll catch up later.”
I start to kiss them, but they sneeze.
“Go,” they say. “I don
’t want you coming down with this.”
I kiss their hand and shadow walk back to the apartment.
Allegra is curled up asleep in a chair. Fuck Hollywood is just waking up and gives me a weak smile. I put a finger to my lips to tell her not to talk. Then I shake Allegra gently. She slowly opens her eyes and glances at Fuck Hollywood, who waves back. There’s a compression glove on her right hand, but she can use it. However, her left hand is mummy-wrapped in gauze and bandages.
After Allegra inspects the dressings she stretches and says, “I’ll stop by tonight to change that wrapping. Other than that, you look good.”
“Thank you so much,” says Fuck Hollywood.
I take Allegra back to her apartment through a shadow. She unlocks the door, but doesn’t go right inside.
“Keep an eye on her for a while. If there’s anything odd about her mood. If she tries to scratch or get her bandages off, call me immediately.”
“You think she’s still sick?”
“I think she’s in as good shape as can be expected. But we don’t know how the virus works. Just because she’s okay now doesn’t mean she might not relapse.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“I’m going to want to have another look at you too. How are you feeling?”
“Honestly? Worn the fuck out. I itch, which means I’m healing, but I should be farther along. I think King Bullet might have put some hoodoo on his kpinga. I might be stuck with this sliced-up hand for a few days.”
“Want me to check it now?”
“No. I want to get back. Are you okay? I mean, with the clinic closed.”
She shrugs. “You know. Restless. Angry. Sad. Fairuza is coming over later and we’re going to drink ourselves stupid.”
“Good plan.”
“Promise that you’re not trying any heroics today.”
“Don’t worry. I couldn’t steal a Milk-Bone from a Chihuahua.”
“Good. I’ll call you later.”
I head back to the apartment and Fuck Hollywood is sitting up, trying to work the TV remote with her fucked-up hands. I try to help her, but she shoulders me away.
“I’m a big girl, Dad. I’ll get it.”
“You do that. I’ll make coffee.”
When I get back a few minutes later, she’s watching an anime about some guy with a reptile head and his friend, an ass-kicking woman with a dumpling shop. It looks like fun. She mutes the sound when she sees me.
I say, “Can you hold the cup okay?”
She takes it with her right hand and holds it up.
“I’m fine. See? And, honest, you don’t have to baby me. I’m feeling a lot better.”
I sit down next to her on the sofa.
“Exactly what the hell are we watching?”
“Dorohedoro. And don’t ask me anything about it, because I’m going to make you watch it from the beginning.”
“You’re the boss.”
We watch the show for a few minutes, just letting the images wash over us. But I can tell Fuck Hollywood is restless.
“Are you okay?”
She looks at me.
“It’s okay if you want to go out,” she says. “I’m really feeling a lot better.”
I blow on my coffee.
“I think I’ll hang around for a while. It feels like every muscle in my body got kicked in the balls.”
She stares at her injured hands for a few seconds.
“Me too. Allegra told me what I did.”
“Do you remember any of it?”
“Bits and pieces. It’s weird to think about. I mean, I know what I did was horrible, but I also remember not being able to stop because it felt so good and right. Creepy, yeah?”
“Not really. After what I saw last night, I can imagine any kind of craziness getting stuck in people’s heads. The way a lot of those Shoggots cut themselves and each other up . . .”
She touches her forehead.
“Is that what happened with you and Betty Boop the other night? Someone did that to you?”
“Yeah.”
“Because you wanted them to?”
“No,” I say. “I needed information from him and it seemed like the fastest way to get it.”
Fuck Hollywood thinks for a minute.
“You get hurt a lot trying to help people.”
“I’m just clumsy.”
“I meant it as a compliment.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“You really are lousy with people being nice to you.”
“It’s easier getting punched.”
“All those scars you have from trying to help people.”
I take a gulp of coffee. The reptile guy just swallowed some suit-and-tie guy’s head. I like this show.
“I’ll have more scars before this is over, so it’s best not to think about it.” I look at her. “Do you hurt? Allegra gave me a pain pill. You can have it.”
She shakes her head.
“I’m okay. She gave me one too. But see? You were going to hurt yourself to help me.”
I watch the show and ignore the comment. Fuck Hollywood stares at her hands.
“This morning, Allegra said that my pinkie looks good and will probably heal up okay. Not a hundred percent, but pretty okay. She had these big clunky chunks of something like cloudy stones. Like big opals.”
“It sounds like divine light glass.”
She laughs a little at that.
“Is that like holy water? A priest blesses it and suddenly it’s magic.”
I set down my cup. “Nope. It’s part of one of the vessels that God used to make the first stars.”
“Get out of here.”
“It’s true. One of the vessels broke. The glass fell to Earth and created life. Including us.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“I’m not. We’re one gigantic cosmic mistake.”
Fuck Hollywood stares off into space for a minute. Eventually, she looks at me.
“That’s kind of cool when you think about it,” she says. “I mean, if we’re just a mistake it means that anything nice we do is special. Any music or paintings or movies or people we love. They’re all special because we’re not even supposed to be here.”
“I never thought of it that way before.”
“All that punching addled you, boy.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Are you going out later?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just stay here if you want to do something.”
“That’s okay. It’s just that on TV earlier they said the governor is sending the National Guard into L.A. And there’s a curfew. No one’s allowed out after eight or before six.”
I think about the scene last night.
“I wouldn’t want to be one of those National Guard guys going up against the crazies. I don’t know how many there were last night, but there are just going to be more and more.”
“Didn’t a lot get shot?”
“As long as there’s the virus there will be more crazies.”
“That’s scary.”
“It is,” I say.
“There was something else too. What’s the name for what I did? What I have?”
“You mean autophagia?”
“That’s it. The TV said that other people have it too. Like, a lot of people.”
“You’ll be safe from all that here.”
She looks at her hands, not as reassured as I’d hoped.
I say, “If there’s a curfew, maybe I should go out and get us some food now before it’s all gone.”
Fuck Hollywood looks around for her phone.
“I’ll order us a pizza. A couple of pizzas. Don’t know how long we’re going to be locked up.”
“Absolutely no pizza tonight. I’ll get some burritos and tamales and things.”
I put my empty cup in the kitchen and Fuck Hollywood says, “It’s going to be all right, right? I mean you’re coming back.”
I go over to the sofa.<
br />
“Of course I’m coming back.”
She looks uncomfortable.
“My friend who had the room I was going to rent? With the way things are, she doesn’t want new people around.”
“It’s okay. Stay here as long as you want. This is your home now too.”
“Thank you.”
She grabs me in a hug and I wince at the pain in my back.
Letting go, she says, “They really messed you up last night, didn’t they?”
“I’ve been worse. But I’m not wrestling any gators today.”
“Did you really get shot?”
“Yep.”
She looks a bit sheepish and says, “Can I see?”
I pull up my T-shirt so she can see the half-healed wound.
She stares for a minute and says, “That is so metal.”
Now I laugh.
She says, “I’ll find something for us to watch while you’re out.”
“Nothing with guns. But something with gore.”
“I’m on it.”
I head to a little bodega a block away where they sell hot food and get double orders of everything. They have big bags of sour gummy worms at the counter, so I get those too. They seem like something Fuck Hollywood might like.
When I get back, she’s found a station playing The Abominable Dr. Phibes.
“Perfect,” I tell her, tossing her the worms.
She tears into the bag happily.
For all of its baroque gore, Dr. Phibes is a fairly straightforward movie. Back from suspended animation, using biblical plagues, Phibes goes after the doctors who let his wife die. It’s not just murder. It’s the retribution of an angry god, making the unworthy pay for their sins. Naturally, he fails in the end and doesn’t kill all of the doctors. Even gods can’t be right all the time. Phibes’s sin was wrath, but he gets away by going back into suspended animation. And so the world waits to see if God will return and what sins we’ll be judged for down the line. Of course he does a year later in Dr. Phibes Rises Again. This time, after all the murders, he gets away with the secret to eternal life with his beloved wife. Us sinners should all be so lucky.
I wonder who King Bullet thinks he is. Sinner on a rampage or god on a killing spree? In the end, it doesn’t matter. I’ve killed nefarious Sub Rosa before and I can do it again. I just hope I don’t get beaten up as ugly as his Shoggots.
By the end of the movie, Fuck Hollywood is asleep. She’s got a lot of healing to do, so I leave her that way and go into the bedroom to call Candy.
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