There were some murmurs at that. Apparently not everyone knew about me and Gina. Not that it was anybody’s business. There was some eye-rolling. There were glances of castigation. Johnny went back to smiling, only this time it was full of resentment. He didn’t hide much. He came at the world head-on. He always thought he deserved more than me because I knew how to take orders and did what I was told. He thought it made me content with a position of subordinate.
Johnny reached for a zeppole, chewed it down in two bites and licked the sugar off his fingers. He knew how to work a crowd and get people on his side. He’d be a good boss when the time came.
Gina threw in her lot with me. She stood and stepped to me and put her arms around me. I held her. She brushed her lips against my neck. We were out in the open now. She was smart. She knew I needed the support. She understood that if the mob fractured now it would only take a six inch gap in the parted front gates to kill us all.
“It’s not a move,” I said. “The world has shifted. We’re in a state of war. I’m a solider. Nobody’s going to be covering the book action or moving heroin or skimming casinos for a while.”
“Those aren’t insurgents out there,” Johnny argued. “They’re a bunch of sick people throwing up their guts and dying like fish in the sand.”
Portman looked from one of us to the other. He was the consigliere, the guy who was supposed to be wise enough to handle conflicts like this. He looked a little out of his element. He usually had to worry about making peace with the other syndicates and families, making political moves, garnering aid from local lawmakers and politicos on the take. He’d never had to worry about two torpedoes wasting each other in the center of the house.
It was no different now than it had been in Iraq. A thousand men could be blown to pieces, you could torture them by the hundreds, you could have your balls practically fried into figs, and when it was all done you went right back to arguing over the remote control and pissed at whoever ate the last brownie sent by a dead platoon mate’s mother on his birthday.
Johnny took out a cigar and clipped off the end, lit it, and took a nice long puff. He’d gotten himself under control. His voice was much quieter now, but just as full of fury. “So you think because you’re the a-number one hitter nobody can move against you, soldier boy? You think we’re that frightened of you?”
“Yes,” I said.
“You’re just another mook on the payroll.”
“There is no payroll anymore, Johnny.”
He ignored me. He looked at the firepower all around and grinned. If everyone came after me at once it would be a bloodbath. A part of me hoped it would happen. I was eager for it. He realized it and so did everyone else. We were all one family.
Most men, even wiseguys, don’t like violence. They had to ramp themselves up for it. They had to throw back a few shots of liquid courage, or find a partner to go shoulder to shoulder with. They had to sneak up on the other guy and take him from behind. They had to shoot out a window during a drive-by, let the crazy noise and the action get into their blood. They had to let the rage and terror take them to the place where they lashed out in fury.
I didn’t need to do any of that. Neither did Johnny. We’d always be in charge of things until one of us wound up killing the other, or we wound up outside with the biters, bleeding green.
Johnny glared at me and his two soldiers tried to act rough and imposing by letting their heavily muscled bodies and sheer bulk do their talking for them. They were used to being intimidating. They had faces like rock formations. They could crush an enemy’s bones to powder if they made the effort. Their vanity and confidence was scrawled in their features. They scowled at me.
Johnny was barely keeping control over himself. His best friend’s death had rattled him and I’d embarrassed him in front of the family. I hadn’t handled the situation well and there was no stopping the runaway train now. Johnny made no signal but his boys moved out to brace me. Portman said nothing to stop them. Neither did anyone else. The Ganooch was testing me. That was fine.
I pushed Gina aside gently.
“Don’t kill them,” she whispered. “We need them.”
“I know.”
The thugs were used to men who backed away and ran. They moved in with a slow and methodical pace. Instead of waiting for them to reach me, I lunged.
It wasn’t going to take much to finish them. I chopped one in the throat and he doubled over and threw up on himself. I brought my knee up into his nose and the cartilage mashed and blood arced in an explosive fountain.
The other threw a lumbering roundhouse. I wheeled, turned my back to him, and watched his fist come rushing over my shoulder. Facing away from him, I caught his wrist in my right hand and pulled down hard, levering the bone over my shoulder blade. His arm began to bend the wrong way across the hard muscled ridge of my collarbone. I kept yanking on it as he wailed and floundered.
I said, “Shh. Don’t upset Ma or Grandma Ganucci.”
He tried to swallow his agony. Another couple foot-pounds of pressure and I could’ve snapped his arm. Instead I released him. He nearly went to his knees in relief. I spun and drew his body across my hip and hurled him against the far wall.
I watched the subtle hint of alarm and grudging respect swirl into Johnny’s eyes. It wasn’t enough to stop him from moving against me, but he’d keep in line for at least another few days. The rest of his crew gathered up his two wounded soldiers.
The other troops remained silent. No one pulled their piece on me. No one else tried to muscle me. Half of them still had their phones out. No one else bitched or grumbled. Johnny looked calm and a touch humbled now.
“Don’t I get a say in these matters?” the Ganooch asked. “So far as I know I’m still head of this family, no?” He was being sarcastic and didn’t sound angry. He knew I was right but the old instincts die hard, if ever. He wanted to keep command over his men, even though he knew he was facing an apocalypse he couldn’t hope to survive. He eyed Gina and offered her a small nod. She returned it.
He repeated himself. “No?”
“Yes,” everyone agreed.
“Good. I’m glad we settled that much at least. I’m still in charge of a syndicate I put together almost forty years ago. How about if everybody let’s me decide who’s going to my left hand now that my Niko’s gone?”
“Of course, Don Giuseppe,” Portman said.
“Tommy,” the Ganooch said. “You know more about what’s happening now. You’re my advisor in these matters. Afterward, when things return to normal, if they ever do, we reassess. It’s understood?”
I nodded. I couldn’t get the image of the Ganooch with his neck between my hands out of my head. I kept seeing his neck twisting. I could hear his spine snapping as loudly in my mind as my own thoughts.
“Rally your troops,” I said to the capos. “Keep them in line. Wait for orders. Johnny will take his turn soon. Until then, keep the course and watch your backs. If you see cops or military outside our perimeter, don’t assume they’re here to help.”
“Why not?” asked Portman.
“Assume the strictest conventions for quarantine are in effect.”
“And what are they?”
“Killing everybody who’s sick or might be sick.”
It was a lot to take in. Everyone sat in silence. They thought of their loved ones dead or infected. Most of them let it slide pretty easily. They only loved themselves and their money. There would always be another woman. They raised their eyes to leer at Gina. She felt the mood in the room changing. It almost felt like a joke at first. She cocked her head at me as if to say, Can you believe this shit?
I could. I moved to stand at the left hand of the Ganooch. Johnny still pulled a face but he let his grin draw out into a wide smile.
“What orders do you have?” Portman asked Don Guiseppe. “What do we do first?”
The don looked at me. I said, “We don’t know how much longer the lights are going to last or
we’ll have running water. Bottle as much water as possible. Fill the tubs. Inventory the food, fuel, medicine, and weapons. The armory has lists but there’s probably a couple of extra caches hidden around the outer builds and the troop quarters. Stockpile them. Keep up the patrols.”
“Right.”
“Gather all the flashlights. All the batteries. Keep watching the television. Listen to the satellite radio. We’ve got a police band scanner. Keep someone on them at all times. Grandma’s got an old radio. Do the same with that.”
“Why?” Portman asked.
“In case there’s HAM radio operators out there. We need to monitor all avenues of communication.”
“Is all of that necessary?” Portman asked. “They’re sick. They’re dying, right? They’re weak. Won’t they just die soon? In a couple of days. That disease took Nicky down in a week, and he was one of the strongest people I ever met. Won’t these others just croak in the streets and then we can go on with our lives?”
Nicky wasn’t that strong. He was more of a lover than a fighter. His biggest muscle was between his legs.
“You know what a week of rioting will leave behind? A city burned to its foundations. Millions murdered by one another’s hand. If they all attack at once–”
“Nobody says they will.”
“But they might. I want to be ready for the possibility.”
“You’re acting like an old lady,” Johnny said.
I glanced at the Ganooch. He knew how old ladies thought. He was alive and had built a fortune because his mother had devoted herself to him and taught him how to do it.
“No backtalk,” the Ganooch says. “You do whatever Tommy tells you. That’s that. Basta.”
“Anything else?” Portman asked.
“There’ll be more later,” I said, and left it at that.
I turned my back on them. I stared out the window. High above, the ash clouds mushroomed against the setting sun. Night was coming down hard and fast.
The group disbanded and filed out the door, their stomachs full and their heads buzzing. They were all shellshocked to shit. They would be for a while. But they’d learn fast. It was the only way to learn. If you didn’t, you were dead. If they disobeyed me, they were dead. And the don was dead already.
The Ganooch took one last look at me, gave me a hug, kissed my cheek, and said, “We’re lucky to have you, Tommaso.” Sometimes he meant what he said. Sometimes, those wet Sicilian kisses meant murder.
Gina followed her father. Portman stayed behind and poured himself a glass of wine.
“That was foolish,” he said. “You undermined the don’s authority and went out of your way to piss off Johnny.”
“We’re in a state of emergency,” I explained. “Anyone who doesn’t like it can run the show themselves or walk out the door. I’m trying to keep everyone alive.”
“I know that. But you should’ve explained it to them a little more tactfully. You should’ve elaborated upon your position.”
“Elaboration isn’t my strong suit, Cole.”
“Neither is keeping the crews in line. Instead of bringing us together in this time of trial you’ve got them all foaming at the mouth. They’re scared. I’m scared. And I don’t have any family out there among those… biters, as you call them.” He shut his eyes tightly and shook his head once, like a dog with an earache. “You can’t be right, Tommy. Not about everything you said. You just can’t be.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
He poured me some wine and pushed a glass over to me. I took it and finished it in one pull. He stared up at me and shook his head again. Then he got up and left.
I turned and Gina was there. Her hair was a touch wild and fell into her burning eyes. She liked a man who took control. She liked a man who dominated and prevailed over others. I wondered how she’d hooked up with Nolan. She slid into my embrace and kissed me passionately. I knew I should resist. If the disease was passed through, we shouldn’t be standing here frenching like middle school kids. But what the hell else were you supposed to do with yourself when the pillars of society came crumbling down?
“Tommy,” she said with a hint of excitement, eagerness, rage and dismay. “What’s going to happen next?”
First thing, they all wanted to see the biters first hand before it got too dark. We all gathered in front of the house, on the lawn and in the driveway, watching the gates, taking turns inside the booth equipped with security cameras. We watched the biters grouping together out on the street, listening to their insane laughter.
“Jesus Christ,” the Ganooch said. “What the hell do they think is so funny?” He pointed out faces on the screen. “That’s Marty Tataglia. Degenerate gambler owes our book, what, 15, 16 large? Suppose I’ll never see that now. And over there, on the end, that’s the Salmonella girl, Suzanna Salmonella. She dated Nicky back in high school for a few months. He really liked her, but she broke his heart. A tramp like her mother, Sally. Look at their faces. They hardly look human any more. What are they saying?”
“They’re saying names,” Gina told him. “I heard mine. I heard Tommy’s.”
“They’re asking for help?”
“No,” Gina said. “They’re–”
She didn’t know how to explain it. Neither did I.
Four two-man patrols were walking the perimeter. As one team passed they checked in with me. “Nobody’s come over the wall yet. But–”
“What?” I prodded.
“The things we heard. Shrieking. Pleading.” He stared through me, making an effort to keep his breathing under control. “Babies, man. Babies crying. And little kids. Laughing, this really twisted, insane–”
“I know. Relax. Take a break. Get one of the others to cover for you. Go get a drink. But not too much.”
I checked the monitors. The viral toxin was ravaging its victims faster now, consuming fat and muscle. The mutation was accelerating. Clothing hung slackly off bodies. Faces were hollowed-out, eyes sunk deeply in their sockets. Tendon stuck out hard as bone. The teeth more prominent, mouths splitting open wider along torn creases in the cheeks, as if someone had slashed extended smiles onto the biters. Lips thinned, the gums receded. Bite marks, scratches, and scrapes bled a thick mixture of blood and pus that hung thick as jelly.
“Gina Ganucci, Azrael sups on beauty.”
“Gina Ganucci, your tongue lays down lies and licks up the seed of evil men.”
“Why are they talking about me?” she asked.
“They’re talking about everybody in here.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“We are the children of Sodom. We are the children of Gomorrah.”
“The sickness is driving them crazy,” the Ganooch offered. “It’s affecting their minds. It’s–like Tommy said–it’s a… a psychotic chemical. It’s making them kill themselves and everybody else. It’s–”
“Don Guiseppe Ganucci, the moneychangers must be chased off.”
“Don Guiseppe Ganucci, the money changers own too many corners in your church.”
“What the hell does any of that mean?” the Ganooch asked. “Moneychangers? Church? They’re talking like it’s catechism. This I don’t need. I don’t want my wife or mother to hear this. Everybody understand?”
I figured Ma and Grandma were two of the toughest people here, but if the don wanted to act like he was protecting them, then so be it.
Johnny and his legbreakers climbed up the fenders of the stretch limos, stood on the hoods, and taunted the infected. They fired randomly into the crowd. None of the biters shouted or screamed. They just flopped backwards into the horde and vanished. Others took their places in the milling multitude.
The sun dropped behind the curve of the earth. The ash blotted the moon and stars. It was a pitch night when you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. That kind of darkness drove men insane. Our lights snapped on.
I said, “Torches.”
“Torches?”
“Real torches? With fire?”
“Real torches. We’ve got lumber stashed away in the outer sheds, gasoline, roofing materials. Use tar and pitch. For when the batteries in the flashlights fail.”
“When? Not if?”
“Just in case,” I backtracked.
Johnny and his boys kept firing away in the glow of the driveway and garden lights. I stood at the foot of the first limo and shouted, “That’s enough!” The three of them quit and glared at me. “Save your ammo.”
Johnny finished firing his clip, and the others joined in. Johnny fired his last shot into the ground at my feet. He grinned at me some more, his teeth the brightest thing out there in the night.
“We’ve got to reinforce the house,” I said.
I took a team of men and led them in reinforcing the first floor windows and outer doors.
I went to my room and called Renning again. I got the silent voicemail. I had other coded numbers to try. It was the same for all of them. I had some army buddies in the agency now and tried them too. No one answered. They were either overrun or I’d been burned and left to die behind red zone lines. I hoped Viv had made it to safety. If anyone could survive this mess she could.
I filled the sink with cold water and took a sponge bath. I could feel another fever coming on and hoped to stave off the worst of it.
I pressed my face under water but the waking nightmare struck like a seizure. I fell back against the wall with my skin turning as red as if I’d been under the Fallujah sun. More unknown words filled my throat. I fought my way back to the mirror and watched my own eyes to see if I was turning. I grabbed my 9mm and pressed it to my temple as if that might scare the virus into submission in case I was diseased. I looked at the size of my teeth. I heard my aunt’s voice as loudly as if she was standing behind me.
The hand of God heals and destroys.
I wanted to laugh at that. I pressed the muzzle harder against my head. My sweat dripped down against the barrel like rain.
The words ran through my mind once again. Red Death. The infernal legions of hell. All the armies of Satan marching across all the cities of the earth. Dramatic increases in infant mortality, cancer and leukemia in Fallujah since it was bombarded by US Marines. The wars of man. The wars of God. Apocalypse.
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