“Yeah, I think’s it’s real,” Mooshie said.
“Good. Isn’t that what our society is built upon? Honesty. Yet even I can’t be fully honest. Even I have to cut some corners.” She inhaled as if needing all the oxygen in the room. “Not anymore. Yes, the video is real. And I’m going to tell the world just that.” Grandma tore up her speech. “It was a good try, Albert dear. But I can’t let you have your way.”
“I think you should reconsider, Lenora,” he said very quietly.
“I can’t.” Her eyes watered. “You were my oldest friend along with Tomas. He’s dead. You’re a traitor. Those weren’t Miners at the stadium. Maybe a few for cover, like Singh and Sun Yen. The rest were all Black Tops. Acting on your orders. I trusted you with my life, Albert.”
“Everyone makes at least one big mistake in their life.” Cheng pulled a Trayon pistol out of his pocket and calmly fired one shot that blew off Grandma’s head, showering them all with blood.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Puppy,” Cheng clucked his tongue as if Puppy had spiled cookie crumbs. “But Mooshie failed to kill Grandma the first time. Love is touching sometimes.”
Mooshie leaped for Albert, who clicked something in the palm of his hand, freezing her with a faint groaning noise.
Puppy stepped back, dazed.
“Excellent, don’t you think? She’s the highest quality we have.” Cheng fluffed Mooshie’s hair. “An A2. They’ll last forever. We can create millions more with a snap of the fingers, now that we see how well they work. Thank you for helping us stage this trial run, Puppy. Maybe we can’t turn out thirteen million just yet, but definitely there’ll be enough to finish the job. Speaking of which.”
As Albert pointed the pistol, Puppy dove to the floor. The bullet shattered a lamp. He reached for a piece of Grandma’s skull and threw what he thought would be the last fastball of his career, hitting Cheng in the forehead; the First Cousin fell over the table.
Puppy scrambled to his feet. Alarms went off. He stroked Mooshie’s still warm face and kissed her tenderly on the mouth.
“Oh Moosh.” He clenched his groin.
Puppy knelt beside Grandma and squeezed her hand, pressing her fingertips to his lips, then flung his blood-splattered jacket onto the floor and hurried to the elevator. BTs stormed past. Puppy nodded politely, slipping into the elevator. He strolled down the staircase as if off to a gay party and through the white-trimmed double doors, where hundreds of thousands of children lined up waiting for Grandma and her honorees to come onto the patio beneath the huge purple “We Will Survive” banners.
“How’s everyone?” Puppy pressed through the kids, who swarmed over him. Shaking hands, he walked with controlled hysteria around the far side of the House, ducking beneath the rose garden. Charged with keeping people out, not in, a diffident BT nodded at Puppy’s badge and waved him along.
Sirens wailed. The 178th Street subway station was closed. He walked opposite the spectators, a puzzled murmur sweeping the crowd, and toward the 181th Street station, also closed. BT armored trucks roared past, knocking aside increasingly terrified people and dragging a woman ten feet before she fell off, dead.
Puppy lowered his head and ran down the steps of the station, leaping over the turnstiles and trotting along the tracks. He had no idea where he was going. He passed several shuttered stations before taking an emergency exit off to the left, up the filthy steps and shoving open a rusting manhole cover.
Hysterical crowds screamed and cried. Overhead a vidscreen flashed his face.
ASSASSIN.
“Puppy Beisbol.” Clary jumped into his arms and smothered him with kisses.
“Well, you really did it this time, Pup.” Annette shook her head.
He was stunned. “What the hell are you doing here?
“Barcelona wanted to see you give your speech.”
Cheng’s voice boomed “…a treacherous murder by the terrorist Puppy Nedick…”
A couple siblings looked at him in growing recognition. Puppy pressed Clary against his face for cover and they pushed into the pulsating crowd. His face flashed everywhere, his name almost chanted. Puppy. Grandma. Murderer. He stopped Clary from applauding.
Near Fordham Road, Clary scrambled out of his arms like a twitchy dog. She waited until a gray-wigged A24 vendor commiserated with grieving siblings, then snatched three sunglasses off the lower shelf. Clary happily fussed with the oversized glasses, turning every which way to see the world in this new way.
Annette lowered the shades down her nose and gave Puppy a look that said don’t even begin to ask about this child.
“We have to get off the streets,” Puppy whispered over another deafening wave of anguish as Grandma’s face filled the screens. Clary hummed the Grandma Muertas song.
Down the block, three BTs jumped out of a truck and ran toward them, rifles raised.
Puppy pulled Clary onto his back and grabbed Annette’s hand.
“We have to hood.”
“We’re too old.”
Three shots missed them, but hit some siblings. More panic as the crowds ran from the BTs.
Puppy hopped on the first car hood, Annette grudgingly throwing away her expensive heels. As they jumped onto the second car, Clary suddenly bounded ahead, squealing with delight. They hooded five cars, before finally losing the shooting BTs on Sherman Avenue.
• • • •
CLARY PUT HER fingers to her lips as they walked into Zelda’s living room.
“Quiet. Or polizia.” She made soft machine gun noises.
Annette tossed the keys on a chair and wearily gestured to keep the lights off, lighting a couple pine-scented candles. Clary made some sad looking sandwiches, which Puppy greedily ate, while Annette laid out an oversized shirt and baggy pants.
He returned to the living room in Zelda’s clothes; Annette stared at the vidnews.
“You never told me about your father.”
Puppy slowly turned. Alvin Nedick’s face wasn’t the drunk, dissipated Alvin Nedick, but a confident, slightly scary man in his thirties with cold eyes.
“…Nedick’s father Alvin was a member of the Blue Wigs, a cruel sub-group of Miners responsible for a series of armed robberies,” the somber presenter said.
Puppy shook his head. “Can’t be.”
“Why would they say it?”
“To make me look worse. He was a drunk. A useless fucking drunk.” Except when he was a Marine; the thought made him angrier. He knocked the last of the sandwiches onto the floor. Clary swore in Spanish.
“Honey, why don’t you play games in the other room?” Annette picked up the food.
Clary frowned. “Puppy’s Papa?”
“Si.”
“No,” he yelled. “Fake Puppy’s Papa. Lies.”
Annette gave him a warning yank on his sleeve. “Clary, go play. We’ll talk about Puppy’s Papa later.”
Clary saw she could only take this so far and skipped into the bedroom, adjusting her sunglasses. Annette waited until she heard the sound of screeching tires of a vidgame and pulled him onto the couch beside her.
“Tell me one more time you didn’t do this.”
“I’m not answering that question, Annette. You above all people should know better.”
“People do screwy things and have one moment of madness. Maybe this was it.” She paused. “I’m just making sure. Please. I need to hear it.”
“I didn’t kill Grandma.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He rolled his eyes.“Since you’re not a terrorist,want to tell me what happened?”
He gave her everything, pausing to massage her toes.
“I thought I was in trouble, but this is really the worst thing you’ve ever gotten yourself into.”
He stared at another photo of his father, this time in a blue wig. Puppy found a stash of Omaha cabernet behind pots in the kitchen. He plopped back onto the couch, feet stretched over Annette’s knees.
“Thanks for hiding me,” he
finally said.
“Did you think I’d just abandon you?” she asked angrily. “Shallow selfish Annette?”
He didn’t hesitate. “No. So what about your day?”
Annette filled him in. “I’m sure I face some charges.”
“For what? Escaping terrorists?” He frowned at the vidnews. “They haven’t mentioned Mooshie.”
“She wasn’t human.”
He thought a moment. “No one knew that. Why not throw her in? Or say she was killed. Or a co-assassin.”
“I think you have other things to worry about besides robots, Puppy.”
They shared a moment of total bewilderment, finishing the bottle.
“You can only hide here for so long until they come looking.”
“I know,” he said.
“I mean, I can’t stay here, either.” She smiled at the sounds of the video game. “They’ll take the demon child.”
Puppy tilted his head, grinning. “You’re protecting Clary?”
She reddened. “Get that look off your face. Zelda made me promise. I keep my promises, Puppy. You know how ethical I am. I never cheated on you or lied. You always knew what you had.”
“What we had.”
“For a while,” she said, picking a photograph of them on the roller coaster at Rye Playland off the shelf. “Zelda has a lot of pictures of us.”
“We’re her friends,” he said softly.
Annette nodded and returned with a blanket and pillow; she made up the couch and kissed him on the head.
“Are you going to watch yourself on the news all night?’
“Well yeah.”
In a few minutes, Clary marched into the room and sat on the chair, staring disapprovingly. The vidnews reported the uncontrollable mourning sweeping the country with Cheng in the foreground of every report, shouting that the Allahs were now believed behind this assassination and urging all good Americans to come together.
“I’m issuing an immediate amnesty to all baseball fans and soldiers.” Cheng sneered into the camera.
Of course you are, Puppy thought.
“Go sleep.” Clary pointed at the bedroom door.
“I’m staying out here.”
“Annette esposa.” Clary made thrusting gestures with her hips.
Puppy blushed. “No esposa. I sleep here. You and Annette in there.”
Clary sighed in disappointment. “Donde Grampa Ty and Grampa Mickey?”
He swallowed hard. If Mooshie were a ‘bot, so were they. Cheng would come after them, too.
The girls’s mouth curled in hatred as a vid of Grandma returned to the screen. “Bravo, Puppy.” She made a gun out of his hand. “Muerta, Grandma.”
He moved Clary onto the couch, struggling a moment on how to phrase the question. “Why does Clary hate Grandma?”
Clary’s eyes welled. “Grandma say Crusaders…say Crusaders matar Allahs.” She swung her thick hair around angrily. “But Allahs matar Crusaders. Grandma lie. Mama and Papa…”
Puppy held her tightly, but just for a moment until Clary, embarrassed, wiggled free. She slammed the bedroom door. In a moment, Annette popped her head out.
“What’d you do to her?”
“I lost the war.”
He turned up the volume as a breaking news report showed an Allah warship sinking off the coast of Iceland.
• • • •
PUPPY FINISHED THE last of the food for their breakfast, frying up Edison Crackers with a pitiful onion. At least the vidnews only flashed his face every fifteen minutes now. HELP US FIND HIM. Simmering riots in Dallas and ceasefires in the Midwest took priority. He was already old news, Puppy thought grimly.
“Got everything?” he asked, waiting for Annette to clean up the dishes and sweep the floor before they slipped out of the apartment down back alleys and over conjoined roof tops above the deadened Bronx. Annette added a few shortcuts of her own, delighted by his surprise. As they paused around the corner of the stout and stately building, his ex silently gestured for him to adjust the hoodie further over his face.
“Well hello Adam.” Annette gave the A31 doorman a quick kiss on the cheeks.
“Ma’am.” The ‘bot tipped its cap. “We missed you.”
“I’ve been busy building a shoe empire.” Annette nudged Clary in front. “This is my niece Clary.”
The girl curtsied, eyes widening as the ‘bot patted her head.
“Cute.” It frowned toward Puppy, calculating. “And you, sir?”
“My brother Pierre.” She arched an eyebrow at Puppy, who sunk behind the sunglasses. “It’s his first time in the big city.”
“Shame you’ve come under such tragic circumstances.”
“Lovely to see you again, Adam,” Annette said in a gush. “I’ll wait for my fiancé upstairs.”
“He’s already there,” the ‘bot called as they hurried across the marble lobby and into the elevator to the twentieth floor.
While Puppy hid in an alcove down the hall, Kenuda hugged Annette, tossing Clary a puzzled look.
“See, I’m not dead at all,” Annette said brightly, frantically waving Puppy into the apartment. He slipped off the hoodie and tossed the sunglasses, feeling strangely defiant.
Kenuda stared, shocked.
“Now Elias,” Annette started. “We need to explain…”
With a wild cry, Kenuda drove his thick forearm into Puppy’s throat and slammed him into the wall.
“Stop it,” Annette screamed and jumped on Kenuda’s back while Clary chomped into his thigh.
“I didn’t do it,” Puppy wheezed, feet off the ground.
“Liar,” Kenuda snarled.
“He’s not lying.” Annette clawed at Kenuda’s eyes; he flung her against the couch and shook Clary across the room. Kenuda balled his fists and charged Puppy.
“It was Cheng.” Puppy coughed. “He killed her.”
Kenuda froze. “What?”
On the vidnews, Albert thundered about vengeance against their real enemies to hysterical applause and the chant of “Kill Allahs, Kill Allahs.”
“Cheng,” Puppy repeated. “He shot Grandma.”
Kenuda’s face clouded as he stared at Cheng, now invoking the memory of Grandma by telling the wild crowd that their beloved Lenora had finally decided to finish the job before the assassin Puppy and his Allah allies murdered her.
Elias finally settled his internal debate with a brisk nod. “He set you up.” His jaw tightened. “He’s setting everyone up.”
“So do you believe Puppy or do I have to let her go?” Annette held back the growling Clary.
Kenuda nodded, rubbing his thigh.
Puppy filled him in while Annette found more food for Clary, who slowly speared potatoes drenched in catsup, wary eyes never leaving Kenuda. He paced around the couch like an electric train.
“The orders are to shoot you on sight.”
“All of us?” Annette asked, frightened.
“Just him. But…” Kenuda gestured helplessly. “Clearly anyone who harbors Puppy…” his voice trailed off; they all stared at Clary.
“I won’t put anyone at risk anymore,” Puppy stood.
“Sit down, you fool,” Kenuda snapped. “I’m already halfway under the wheels.” He slowly let out all the air in his body like a tire going flat, beckoning Puppy.
“You two, stay.”
Light from the hallway spilled onto Pablo’s blank face. Kenuda firmly closed the door, giving Puppy a moment to regain his legs. He sat on the edge of the bed and held Pablo’s hand.
“Oh Pablo,” he whispered.
Pablo stared at the wall.
“It’s Puppy.” Puppy kept his eyes on his friend. “What did they do to him?”
“I don’t know. He was in BT custody. The damn diner. ’Bots. Waiters, Mooshie. They never shut the program down.” Kenuda sighed. “I think he can hear.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve tried asking him questions. He reacts without saying anything.”<
br />
Puppy stared deep into Pablo’s dark eyes. “Are you in there?”
His right eye blinked twice.
Yes.
“Can you gesture?”
One blink. No.
Tears slid down Pablo’s cheeks.
“He’s also done that a few times,” Kenuda said hoarsely.
“What did they do to you?”
“Come on, man, do you expect him to answer that?”
Puppy gestured. Are you okay.
One blink.
Did they hurt you.
One blink. Two blinks. One blink.
Are you scared.
Two blinks. Puppy stifled a sob and opened his palm to show the marble. Puppy didn’t even bother holding back the tears anymore.
“Let him rest.” Kenuda took Puppy back into the living room, where he handed out stiff bourbons to the adults and a fizzy cola to Clary. “We’ve got to get you away, Puppy.”
“Both of us,” Annette said firmly.
“Certainly not,” Kenuda said.
“Absolutely,” Puppy agreed.
Annette lashed them with a hard stare. “I’m glad you decided for dumb Annette. But I’m as big a criminal as he is.”
“Not quite. I did supposedly kill Grandma,” Puppy said dryly.
“I helped you escape.”
“We can sweep that aside,” Kenuda said.
“Can you protect me anymore, Elias?”
After a pause, he shook his head sadly.
“Maybe you and I could discuss this privately,” Puppy said softly.
“Don’t you want me?” she asked, hurt.
“I guess I have no choice.”
“Well gee, thanks for that.”
Puppy and Kenuda exchanged comradely I’ve-been-there looks. The Commissioner disappeared into his study. Annette glared at Puppy.
“What?” he asked.
“You could act more excited that I’m coming. Like just a little.”
Returning, Kenuda cleared his throat with a faint smile, relieved it was Puppy on the end of this Annette barrage, and handed them each a thin envelope. “There’s an emergency protocol now. All Cousins receive travel passes to anywhere in the country.”
“I just keep running until they catch me?”
“Us,” Annette corrected him.
“What good does that do?” Puppy asked Kenuda. “And how does that stop Cheng?”
A Mound Over Hell Page 68