The Artful (Shadows of the City)

by Wilbert Stanton

  Dodger lifted the little girl up onto his shoulder, and she laughed.

  “All these people live down here?” Gia asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “The top levels are totally wrecked, but most of the people who made their way down here found it pretty much intact. It’s big enough to live in and not be on top of each other. Since all the entrances were destroyed, it’s pretty safe from scavengers and the Empire’s Suits.

  Gia looked around in amazement. “If you live down here, why are they after you? You’re hardly in their way.”

  “We raided the Empire pharmacy.”

  “So you guys are dosers?”

  “Nah, nothing like that,” I said. “It’s bad enough all the Tower Babies live in their swank towers, pissing down on us, safe and sound, no worry of heat or poverty. They hoard all the meds too. People down here and on the surface die from so many things that could be easily fixed if they had the meds. Instead, the Tower Babies sit on stockpiles. So we break in, steal ‘em, and give ‘em out where they are needed.”

  “Yeah,” Dodger added. “Robin Hood and Little John of the drug world.” As if to solidify our sentiment, he handed the bag of meds to the little girl, setting her down on the floor, and warning her to take them to the infirmary or else. She smiled, proud to be entrusted with such a crucial task, and ran off. The other children followed.

  “Where is everybody?” Dodger asked.

  The station seemed empty, as if all the doors had shut tight as soon as we entered. It was usually a constant hustle and bustle of people arguing and bartering. Those who weren’t fast trying to swindle their fellow man out of their worldly possessions were exploring the area for anything worth calling a worldly possession. Others would be huddled around a beat up record player, its music filling the empty spaces of the station. The Old Man wasn’t even about. No one knew his name just that he liked to tell stories about how the world used to be, before the virus came and took out half the population. Other times, when he was in better spirits, he would tell all the kids fairy tales, or stories from books, comics, old TV shows, and movies. Dodger and I were quite fond of him.

  We walked down the empty pathways. The floor at one time probably had a waxed finish, now it was just a junk-paved road. All the houses packed together were piles of garbage for that matter, even though they lived in less than stellar dwellings, the community made it feel homey. It was a bit unnerving walking from house to house, window to window, wondering why our homecoming was so somber. We followed the path to a stairwell that led deeper into the heart of the station, towards the vast opening that was once a waiting area. Seats lined the walls, all facing information boards that hung abandoned.

  The area was our designated sleeping quarters at night, but, during the day, it was used as a chapel. If we were around, we would sit and listen to Preach, the resident nut-case, spew his ideas on theology and the state of the world. Other Tunnel Dwellers would make their way into our chapel and listen to his sermons. One would have thought the tall, hefty man was a preacher in another life, the way he managed to captivate his audience with his simple words. He was the opposite. He ran the streets back when the world was fit. He always lived underground, moving from place to place, a wandering nomad who willingly turned away from society. His only interaction with the uptown world was to make deals, steal, and spread corruption throughout. He trafficked drugs and information, and yet, with all the money he made, he found his place was amongst the homeless. After the world crumbled and people scattered, trying desperately to adapt, Preach found himself right at home. But, to us, he was just another Gutter Punk.

  This is precisely why my head filled with panic when I saw him sitting in his information booth, lifelessly hunched over. The flickering candlelight did little to hide the amount of blood staining his dark skin and clothes. His hands were behind him, bound.

  We had little time to wonder what had happened. Dodger was tackled from behind. A large body straddled his back as he squirmed around on his belly. Before I could turn, I felt a sharp blow to the back of my legs. My knees crumpled, and a strong arm reached around my neck, keeping me from falling to the ground. I gasped for air as my stomach turned.

  Gia let out a short scream as she was pushed up against a wall, a rusty rifle tip held at her throat. The place was filled with Suits.

  “Now, if either of you boys move,” said a figure emerging from a darkened corner. “The girl dies first.” He walked over to us with grace. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly cared for, and his soft white skin had never seen its fair share of sun exposure. His suit was immaculate―pinstriped pants, a freshly pressed shirt and jacket. “I have been waiting quite some time for you two. What took you?”

  “Had to catch a movie,” Dodger said. “Also, don’t really care for the girl, so… you know… screw you!”

  The man pulled out a pad and flipped through a couple of pages. “The mouthy one, you must be Dodger, huh? The Artful Dodger, and you”―another glance at the pad―“the mouth’s shadow, Twist, is it?”

  I nodded.

  He looked through his pad again with a questioning look toward Gia. “Now, there’s Smith, who we will get to in a moment, and yet no mention of a girl.” He walked over to Gia, delicately removed a leather glove, and ran the back of his hand across her cheek. She didn’t quiver; she didn’t falter. Instead, she hacked up all the phlegm she could muster and spat right in his face. As if it were nothing, he wiped his face clean and, in the same motion, hit her with a sickening slap of the back of his hand.

  “Man,” Dodger said. “I’ve wanted to do that since we met her.”

  “Gia!” I yelled, and the arm around my neck tightened as I tried to run to her side. She fell down, holding her face.

  “Ah, Gia.” The man let her name run across his tongue, as if experimenting with the taste of it. “You aren’t on the list, so rest assured I have no qualms about killing you. Now if you ever try that again, I will―”

  Gia jumped up and was on him with such speed he didn’t have time to defend himself. She clawed at his face, hurling insults and curses as if they too were sharp as blades. They both fell to the ground in a flurry of blows.

  The Suits were preoccupied with Gia’s attack, unsure if they should intervene. Dodger used their distraction to pry loose his arm and elbow the man atop him. The blow connected with his captor’s stomach. The Suit loosened his grip enough for Dodger to turn over and punch him in the face, knocking him to the ground. Dodger jumped up and made a straight dash for me. Gia’s guard aimed his rifle at Dodger, stopping him. Dodger held up his hands in defeat.

  The man punched Gia in the jaw, knocking her out cold. He pushed her off him in disgust. Standing up, he straightened out his suit. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Please, someone kill her now.”

  “No, wait!” I yelled. “We’ll stop fighting. Just leave her alone and tell us what you want.”

  He thought it over for a moment, running his fingers over his chin in a calming manner. “One more chance, that’s what you pricks get. One more mistake and she will no longer grace us with her presence.”

  I looked at Gia before meeting his eyes. “Who are you?”

  “Stan.” He took a challenging step closer to me.

  “Stan?” I asked. “Stan, what?”

  “Just… Stan.”

  “Okay, Just Stan, Just Stan the Man,” Dodger said. “What the hell do you want?”

  “I want a lot of things. I want all you disgusting street dwellers gone from my city. I want to be able to walk about outside without the sun scorching my skin. I want a bacon cheeseburger, no lettuce or tomato with just enough ketchup to give it extra flavor, but not fall out the sides when I bite into it. But you know what I want most? I want what you stole.”

  “We tend to steal a lot of stuff; you’ll have to be more specific,” Dodger smirked, staring down the barrel of the rifle. Just Stan walked over and kicked his legs out from under him, knocking him to his knees, then gr
abbed a handful of Dodger’s hair and pulled his face real close.

  “You little bastards stole something today. Ring a bell? I want it back, I want it now. Or else the girl dies, your shadow dies, anyone who might possibly know your name dies, and then you die.”

  “We weren’t able to get our hands on much. Smith lifted some stuff, but just some meds,” I struggled against my captor. “We don’t have them with us, but we have a stash here, so we can replace everything he took. It was just some painkillers and antibiotics, I bet.”

  “It was just some painkillers and antibiotics.” Just Stan repeated in a mocking voice. “You think I would waste my time coming down into your filthy little club house for that? A handful of antibiotics mean nothing to me.”

  “So what is it you want?” I cried.

  “I’m willing to bet this chump knows.” He smacked Dodger across the cheek.

  “Twist already told you―”

  “If he says something I don’t want to hear, shoot his shadow.” The rifleman turned his gun onto me. I wanted to speak, but I couldn’t find my voice. Having the muzzle aimed at my face paralyzed me like a hypnotic spell.

  “Okay,” Dodger said. “Smith was being a bit skittish, more so than usual, the way he held onto his bag for dear life seemed suspect. I figured he had something worth snatching up. I wanted him to come back here, maybe strike a deal, but the stupid Suits messed it up. We split and that’s truth.”

  “Worth something?” Just Stan laughs. “He thinks it’s worth something.”

  “I didn’t know it was important,” I said.

  Just Stan leans in close to Dodger. “I want to know where he is now.”

  “When’s the last time you brushed your teeth?” Dodger turned his head away in disgust.

  “Dodger!” I managed to yell. This wasn’t the time for his mouth to get us in trouble. I wanted to keep him in line, and I was the only one who could do it. But, at that moment, all I could muster was his name.

  “I’m waiting.” Just Stan wasn’t the least bit frazzled.

  “Sure, after your mom blows me,” said Dodger.

  My blood went cold. From the look of the other guards, they all seemed to share my sentiment. Dodger just killed us all. That idiot!

  Just Stan laughed. “Are you insane?” To his men he added. “I want you to kill everyone, except Dodger.”

  “Now, hold on a second, Just Stan.” Dodger smiled, no longer any sign of fear in him. “You want the drugs so bad, you better listen up and listen good, because if you touch anyone I might start forgetting things.”

  “In the end, I don’t really need any of you, do I?” Just Stan said.

  “Smith went off with the stash.” Dodger looked more and more confident as he spoke. “You want to know why Smith was one of our best guys? Definitely not his sunny disposition. He’s a chameleon, he knows someone worth the knowing in every crew, he chats up girls in towers, he’s done favors for all the big boys. There ain’t no one don’t owe Smith a favor, no way in hell you’re gonna find him without my cooperation. And I tell you this much, if you do anything to any of my guys, my mouth seals up, like your mom’s legs.”

  “What about the girl? Can I hurt her?”

  “Oh, well her, she’s a―”

  “No!” I yelled. We couldn’t afford Dodger’s tendency to make the most serious of situations a game. “Leave us alone, or we’ll never tell you where Smith is.”

  “Actually,” Dodger added. “We aren’t telling you squat. The only way you’re gonna find him is if we find him. Gutter Punks have a way of doing things. When we get lost, we get lost, good and proper. You’d have to go through too many channels, and people who don’t care for any Tower Babies to find him. You can make a show of power all you want. But there’s no way you’ll ever find him without friends. So, if you want to stay friends, tell the tag team to back off and give us some space.”

  Just Stan waved at the guards, and they did just that―backed off near the entrance, the rifle man shouldering his piece and the other crossing his arms.

  He thought it over for a moment, and his face lit up in a delightful smile. Gia started to come to and sat up in a daze. Just Stan shushed her before she had a chance to open her mouth.

  “Fine,” he said, overly confident.

  “Fine?” Dodger echoed.

  “Yes, that’s an acceptable offer.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Why not?” He clapped his hands, then held his arms out wide and turned around as if taking in his whole surroundings. He snapped his fingers at the Suit who now covered the only exit that led to the stairwell. The Suit hurriedly ran over, towing a small black cooler behind him. “However, I have an amazing idea.”

  He nodded toward Dodger, and the nearest Suits grabbed him by both arms and forced him down to his knees. The other Suits once again trained their weapons on me and Gia. Just Stan shushed her before she attacked him with a barrage of curses. He opened the cooler. “See we aren’t as stupid as you think. I had no doubt in my mind that you wouldn’t help us unless prodded. I figured it would go two ways, either you had the stuff on you or would know where it is. Like I said, I believe it would be an excellent idea, sending you off to do our bidding. But we need insurance—something I have been dying to try out, and I figured what better opportunity than this? So I brought along a little present.” He pulled a medical syringe out, tapping the small plastic cylinder, which held a yellowish liquid. He experimentally squeezed the plunger until a spray of fluid squirted from the needle point.

  “Hey, I’m no doser, asshole!” Dodger tried to struggle, but the Suits held him firmly in place, a child trapped in the arms of danger.

  “Oh, no need to struggle, this is nothing serious.” He turned to Dodger, holding the needle inches from his face. “Just a nasty little virus. Trust me, you won’t experience the slightest bit of pleasure from it.”

  “Shove it!”

  “Don’t do this!” I yelled. “We told you we would get what you wanted!”

  “Do I look stupid?” Just Stan asked.

  “Yes. Yes you do,” Dodger started. “Actually you look like a complete―”

  Just Stan cut Dodger off by slamming the needle into his arm, injecting all the fluid into his shoulder. One of the Suits held his hand over Dodger’s mouth, muffling his screams.

  I watched in horror as Dodger struggled. I tried to fight free from my captors to help him, but it was useless. Gia made an attempt at aiding him, but the guns kept her glued to her seat.

  “Oh, stop. Look at you three. It’s not the end of the world!” Just Stan took Dodger’s chin in his hand and pulled him close, whispering, “I bet you thought, you were smarter than me, huh?”

  After Dodger calmed down, he lay still, like a defeated child. Just Stan told his Suits to let him go. The fight had gone out of Dodge. He stared at Just Stan with only a hint of defiance.

  “Do you want to know what I gave you?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Dodger moaned. “Because I’m going to kill you.”

  “Oh, don’t be dramatic. I gave you a little virus, it’s harmless now, but given some days, it’ll kill you. Don’t ask, I don’t cook these things up. All I know is my employers gave it to me, and they gave me a cure. Now I really would love to give it to you, I really would. So help me help you. Are we on the same page?”

  “If the page says ‘go to hell,’ then, yeah, sure―”

  “Dodger, shut up for once!” I yelled. “Fine, so let’s deal. You want what Smith stole. We bring you what Smith stole and you give us the cure. Easy, we’ll do it.”

  “So, the little guy gets it,” said Just Stan.

  “How do we know you’ll hold your end?” I asked.

  “You don’t,” Just Stan’s eyes were cold. “And, frankly, I don’t care. But it’s the only choice you have. He’s going to die. And it won’t be pretty either, so you can either sit around crying, waiting for his big exit, or you can attempt to save his life So what
’s it going to be?”

  I could tell by the look on Dodger’s face that he was about to tell Just Stan to shove it where the sun don’t shine. So I made sure to speak first.

  “Fine! Deal!”

  e understandably felt hopeless, evicted from our home, our last place of safe refuge taken from us, the people we helped protect turning their backs on us all because of Just Stan and his Suits. We solemnly marched through the station, heading topside. We were used to being on our own, but before we always had a safety net we could return to, it was a sense of security that came with having a home.

  Only we didn’t have the luxury of loving parents; instead we’d had the dictator-like zealot we called Preach. Like a true parent, he named us. Dodger and Twist were characters from a book he once loved. I’d never read it myself, but he said the names were fitting. What we knew about the streets we learned from him, what to look for and what to avoid. How to pick someone’s pocket without them giving a second thought, how to crack locks and sneak into towers, what meds were worth money and best to get dosed on. Most importantly he taught us how to speak properly, and to read and write so we could fit in among Tower Babies. He used to call us wolves in sheep’s clothing. In actuality, he’d been nothing less than an encyclopedia. Sure, his methods had been less than savory, but we had to live with the ages. Of course, these were things we had already been doing on our own. But he took our innate skills and polished them into shining gems. He turned a couple of useless street thugs into skilled professionals. But now Preach was gone, we were officially on our own.

  Dodger walked ahead, not saying a word. I had to hustle to keep up. A couple times Gia faltered, still visibly dazed from the knock to the face. I tried helping her walk by wrapping my arm around her shoulders, only to have her jerk away. She’d apologize after noticing my hurt expression and offered false assurances she was okay.

  This was the type of girl she was. She would never let anyone in, always insistent on taking care of herself. She wanted to make a show of not needing anyone. I wondered what kind of hardships she had gone through to make her so untrusting. I must have gotten lost in my musing. Before I realized it, we emerged from the underground maze. The moonlight yanked me back to reality. We ascended the stairs.