The Artful (Shadows of the City)

by Wilbert Stanton

  “Think it’s part of the act?” I asked. Lots of the Tower Babies liked it when their prize fought back. It wasn’t unusual, and, with the right amount of pay, anything was possible.

  “Dunno,” he said half-heartedly. I could already see the wheels turning in his head. Another scream was quickly quieted. The car bounced one last time.

  Before I could speak, Dodger was on the move. He picked up one of the old posts used to separate the ticket lines. With a very determined stride, he walked over to the car. He climbed onto the hood and then the roof. He raised the post over his head, smiled at me, and brought it crashing down onto the windshield. The window cracked, sending jagged lines in all directions. He raised the post again and brought it down once more, very pleased with the sound of shattering glass. Leaving the post lodged in the windshield, he stood up straight, resting his hands on his hips.

  The door shot open, and a well-dressed, overweight man stepped out, his pants unzipped. He fumbled with his belt, his hair a mess and a fresh scratch across his left cheek. His look of utter fury was almost comical. He reminded me of Porky Pig.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted, tucking his silk shirt into his pants.

  “Looks like I’m saving the day!” Dodger said with a curtsy.

  Porky swung his ham-like hands at Dodger’s feet, who merely side-stepped them. “Twist, see who’s in there.”

  I walked out into the open, unsure. Porky turned around, face red with rage. He was having trouble breathing and made to step toward me. Before he could, Dodger jumped onto his back, straddling him like a wild horse, arm around his neck and hand covering his eyes. Every now and then, Dodger would smack the guy’s ass.

  “Go, Twist, now,” he yelled. The man stumbled sideways, then threw himself backward, his entire weight landing on poor Dodge.

  I ran over to the car and opened the door. A young girl was huddled in the corner, covering herself with a shirt she held against her chest. She looked pathetic and terrified. But something about her was so beautiful. I couldn’t tell you if it was the gleam of her tanned skin, the green of her eyes, or the painstakingly-cared-for hair. Red, with strands of black and blue fell artlessly about her face to her shoulders. I held out a hand to her. She cowered away from me. I noticed her lip was busted, blood trickling down her chin.

  “It’s okay, we got you.”

  Within an instant, her face went from helpless fawn to enraged lioness; she shuffled out of the seat and pushed me out of the way. Her shirt fell to the ground. Wearing only a tattered skirt, fishnet stockings, and a bra, she marched over to Dodger and the struggling man.

  In a past life, she must have played sports, because the force with which she kicked Porky in the groin could have sent a soccer ball clear across two fields. I cringed. Her steel-toed combat boots only made it worse. She yelled a string of obscenities as she continued to kick him over and over again.

  Dodger wrestled his way out from under Porky and backed away, covering his jewels with his hands, no doubt also feeling the phantom pains.

  Her assailant rolled around, begging for mercy. After I had enough of the display, I placed a hand on her shoulder. She violently shrugged me off and turned her anger on me.

  I jumped back, covering my groin in protection. “It’s okay, we were trying to help!”

  “You wench!” the man yelled from the ground.

  Dodger walked over and punched him in the face, laying him out cold.

  She stood, her chest heaving in and out. Her look of rage melted away, and soon only sorrow was left. She crumpled to the ground in a sitting position and sobbed. I gathered up her shirt and handed it to her. With a reddening face, she swiped it and put it on.

  Dodger came over. He was always one to break the silence. “So what happened? Weren’t you on the clock?”

  The glare she shot him sent a shiver down my spine. “I’m not a prostitute! I… well… it’s not the same.” She lost confidence in her argument. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that. They told me I had to keep him company, nothing physical, just keep him company, that’s all.”

  Dodger tapped the side of his head. “You’re not that bright, huh?”

  “Jeez come on, man!” I gave him a pleading look.

  “What? I’m just saying, it doesn’t take a genius―”

  “Anyway,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  “I still taste his tongue!” She spat a glob of clear fluid onto Porky’s head.

  “I’m Twist.”

  “I’m Dodger.”

  “And we’re the Gutter Punks!” We both yelled in sync. “Stealing from the rich and protecting the poor―”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed?” She squinted up at us, trying to avoid the sun’s glare.

  “Most are,” Dodger said.

  “Well, no… I was just introducing…” I felt my cheeks warm up.

  “Gia.” She rolled her eyes at me.

  “What a bitch.” Dodger walked away.

  Gia took a step after him. “What did you say?”

  “Oh, sorry. I thought I whispered when I called you a bitch.” He shrugged.

  “Screw you!” She stuck her middle finger in his face.

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He gave her a cocky smile. To me, he pointed towards the entrance. “Come on, Twist, let’s go.”

  He headed back into the theater. I paced behind, glancing back at Gia, expecting her to stop us. Instead, she flipped me off and began fiddling with her boot straps. Porky started coming to, but she swiftly kicked him in the side of the head. Dodger yelled for me to catch up before we missed the show. After one last glance at Gia, I ran after him.

  e sat in the empty theater, staring up at the white screen, waiting for a movie that would never start.

  “See the thing about girls is, maybe you should write this down.” Ever since we left Gia, Dodger had been spewing tons of misogynistic advice. “The less interest you show in them, the more interest they will show in you―”

  “She wasn’t all that bad. She was scared.”

  “The only way to tame girls like that is to take them down a notch. Right now, she’s probably out there thinking, ‘I can’t believe they walked away. They showed completely no interest in me. What do they have that’s so much better than me? I can’t believe them, I can’t believe how much I want them.’ It’s the way girls work―” He was cut short by a sharp kick to the back of his seat.

  “And how many women have you had then?” Gia sat down in the row behind us. I smiled at her, and she winked back. “Go on, Dodgy, tell us how many women you had.”

  “Ah, I couldn’t even count that high,” Dodger said with a grin.

  “Well, you’ll never have me, so get that straight!” she said.

  “Well, I said women. I wouldn’t necessarily include you in that category, would I?”

  She kicked his chair a bit harder. This time, addressing me, she added, “Look, thanks for the help.”

  “No problem,” I said. “You come to watch the show?”

  She shot a disbelieving glance at the blank screen. “So you guys not right in the head then?”

  I leapt up, gesturing with both hands. “Oh, come on, Gia. It’s a great movie!”

  “But there’s―” She scrunched up her eyebrows.

  “The Titanic, it’s about to hit the iceberg.” I grinned. “But, at the last minute someone from the future shows up and warns the captain. They narrowly avoid death.”

  Gia stared at me, open-mouthed. “That’s not even―”

  “Just as things settle―” I glanced sideways at Dodger.

  “Zombies show up!” We both yelled, high-fiving each other.

  “You guys are such losers.”

  “Please,” Dodger held up a hand. “Just because I won’t sleep with you doesn’t mean I’m a loser. But if that makes you feel better about yourself, go on and think that.”

  The three of us sat in the theater for some hours, Dodger and I making up e
laborate story lines for classic movies. At first, Gia listened in silence, but slowly she opened up. By the end of our stay, she had a zombie falling in love with the Titanic’s Captain. She seemed to enjoy describing their love scene with great detail. I could tell it made Dodger a bit uncomfortable when she went into their sordid tryst.

  We headed out at evening; it was always safer then. The sun was low, and the weather was bearable; through cover of twilight it was also easy to avoid trouble. We figured it would be best to hop the 42nd Street station and make our way home underground. The streets were a maze of ruins and rubble; it was too easy to get cornered. We weren’t sure if Suits were about, waiting to pounce. It had been a long day, and we were way too tired for another run across town. The Suits rarely descended underground. It was beneath them. The three of us walked in unsteady silence. The BMW was gone, and so was Porky. The last any of us saw him, Gia offered him a farewell kick in the balls.

  “The thing is”―Gia was trailing behind us―“I don’t like either of you, especially you.” She pointed at Dodger, who shrugged. “But you guys are a good laugh. You have the gift of gab, granted everything that comes out your mouth is a load of crap.”

  “The gift of gab.” Dodger let the words roll around in his mouth, clearly liking the sound of it.

  “Well, anyway, maybe I tag along with you two… I know you want me to, you don’t gotta be shy about it.”

  “Sure!” I said a little too quickly.

  “Sorry, little kid.” My heart dropped as Dodger began walking away. “Me and Boy Wonder run solo. Solo with each other.”

  “Fine, whatever,” she said. “I got better things to do than watch you guys screw around.”

  “I’m heartbroken.”

  “Screw you guys!” Her face turned red and she spun and headed back to the theater. I gave Dodger a questioning look. He shrugged and headed for the station.

  “Gia!” I ran after her, grabbing her arm. She ripped away from me. “It’s okay. You can come with us. I mean, well, Dodger wouldn’t mind you coming. He probably just didn’t want you judging us is all. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be hanging with Gutter Punks, but we would be happy to hang with you.”

  She turned around, wiping her face dry. “It’s just that, that guy. He comes from Brooklyn, one of Chrysler’s boys.”

  My heart stopped and ice ran through my veins. Manhattan was made up of different crews and turfs, not to mention the clear division between uptowners and downtowners. The borough was falling apart while Mayor Reynolds was slowly losing grip, trying to keep things together. But Brooklyn was something different all together. They were unified. Everyone in Brooklyn followed Chrysler, and he ruled it with an iron fist. He was a true gangster with power, and you didn’t want him on your bad side. Those who weren’t under his rule lived on the outskirts; they were cannibals and slavers who traded in flesh and human life. Brooklyn was definitely a place of horror stories.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “He’s an important partner. I guess I was supposed to be a present or something. Keep Chrysler’s boys happy, keep any friction between the boroughs chill. They told me I just had to keep him company. He got all hands on. I wasn’t into it. That seemed to make him enjoy it even more. He’s a creep!”

  “It’s okay. He’s gone now.”

  “You don’t do what we did to a Chrysler boy and get away with it. I’m not scared or nothing. I just can’t go home. Not now. I figure―”

  “Figured you could do for a laugh? Well, hanging with me and him will be just what the doctor ordered.”

  I’m such a loser.

  She offered me a halfhearted smile, and we ran after Dodger.

  “Who is stupid enough to get on Chrysler’s hit list?” Dodger yelled as Gia and I trailed him. Stepping carefully over the subway tracks, we walked down a dark tunnel. The tip tap of dripping water and the scuffling patter of rats mixed together, creating an eerie song of the underworld. It had taken me years to get used to it; now it was nothing more than a sweet lullaby. I wondered if it bothered Gia. I tried to hold her hand. She in turn looked at me like I was the biggest idiot to walk the planet.

  “What sort of jerk gets the Empire’s dogs after him?” she shouted back at Dodger.

  “This guy!” Dodger pointed at himself, then jumped into a puddle, splashing muddy water our way.

  “Asshole! Watch where you’re going!” she screamed, shrinking back.

  “Don’t mind him, he doesn’t mean to be a jerk!” I yelled the last bit, making sure he heard.

  Gia rolled her eyes at me. “How’d you end up with him?”

  “When everything happened, I was seven. I lost my parents to the virus. I was just a kid left wandering for a couple of years. Scavenging for food, never knowing where I’d sleep for the night, the sun burning my skin. Never felt so alone. It was horrible. One day, a bunch of Times Square kids jumped me. They were just having a laugh too. I didn’t have anything. I was just a dumb kid, too scared to put up a fight. They were kicking me around when Dodger jumped in.”

  “Ever the hero,” Gia scoffed in Dodger’s direction.

  “What can I say? With great powers come great responsibility,” he said.

  “Actually, he joined in―”

  “I thought he had food!” Dodger said defensively. “But once I realized he didn’t, I thought it didn’t make much sense beating up a little kid for nothing. Me being a leader and not a follower by nature, I told the other kids to back off. They weren’t having it, so I laid into them.”

  I looked down at my feet. “We both got beat up pretty bad.”

  “You,” Dodger pointed a finger at me, “got beat up pretty bad.”

  “From then on, we were brothers.” I smiled from ear to ear.

  “Great story,” she said. “What chapter do you shut the hell up in?” I stopped and stared at her in disbelief. She laughed. “You two are such losers.” She walked on ahead, laughing by herself.

  “What about you?” Dodger asked. “Were you a bitch all your life or that something new?”

  “Pretty much all my life,” she gave him a challenging look.

  “No, really, what about you?” I asked. “How’d you end up working the Times Square?”

  “Let’s get it straight, I’m not like the other girls who work the Square! I don’t sleep with anyone; I just keep them company. Apparently, I’m really hot and exotic. I think it’s because I’m seventeen. You know how those Tower Babies are. They have weird kinks. But I’ve been doing this for a while now. My mom left when I was ten, and my dad realized I was his golden ticket.”

  “Jeez,” I said.

  “What can I say? It isn’t the most complex story.” She shrugged. “Don’t go feeling sorry for me either.”

  Dodger laughed really hard. “Who said anything about feeling sorry for you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she stopped, staring hard at him.

  “Those poor guys probably paid all that money to find they were stuck with―”

  “You wish you could afford me,” she snapped.

  “We’ll see.” He gave her a dirty look and marched on.

  The rest of our trip was made through the murky pits, a maze of endless tunnels and junctions, in silence. The smell of mold and sewage was thick. It made your skin crawl, and stomach queasy. Sloshing through puddles and mud, we navigated the twists and turns with expert precision. I could tell it was making Gia feel helpless. She was in our world, and the pressure made her uncomfortable. Her unsteady steps made her seem more girly, someone I could relate and talk to. She wasn’t showing me that rough exterior. No, she reserved that for Dodger.

  “I can’t believe people live down here.” She ran her hand along the graffiti-covered walls.

  Different gangs, old and new, marked their territory all along the subway tunnels. A name on the wall made you immortal in a way; years and years after you passed, your name would still be there, and people would remember you. W
e reached a section of tunnels where Gutter Punks was spray painted in numerous places. This was our territory and other crews gave us enough respect to steer clear.

  Generators produced a sparing light in the tunnels, but we kept them good and dark for precaution deeper in. I felt along the right hand wall as we sloshed through the dampness, letting the chipped paint flake off as my fingers brushed it. Dodger and Gia walked close behind while I felt around for the opening. It was a hole in the tunnel wall, an opening surrounded by crumbled cement which lead deep into shadows. With my hands ahead of me, we entered, surrounded by gouged rock and dripping water. I could hear Gia breathing harder; it was easy to feel claustrophobic squeezing through the fissure. After what felt like forever, a tiny light greeted us up ahead. I followed it, pushing myself through the tightening space, walking sideways as the rough rock scratched at my back and shoulders, until we finally made it through to Penn Station. As we emerged, children wasted no time running to our side. They cheered our names and pulled at our clothes, some with slippery hands seeking anything worth snatching in our bags.

  Dodger caught a small girl’s hand; she had managed to get the lighter out of my pocket.

  “Where you going with this? Huh?” he asked light-heartedly.

  Of course we couldn’t get mad, we were proud of their skills. We spent enough time teaching them all we knew. Him putting the lighter in his own pocket wasn’t lost on me.

  We walked on through the shanty town; long steel pillars did wonders holding up the arched crumbling roof that made up our sky. The station was a vast hall filled with hastily built structures, some of cardboard and wood, others just boxes piled on top of another like a child’s fort. Adults peeked out of their humble dwellings, throwing us looks of caution and quickly closing their doors on us. The children wore clothes either too big or small, with layers; shirts, sweaters, and jackets over jackets to keep the cold at bay. Clothes were easy enough to find for those who went scavenging around the city.