Nightworld (Adversary Cycle/Repairman Jack)

by F. Paul Wilson

  “That’s not fair!”

  “Fair’s not a word they care about, Vicks.”

  “Look!” she said, pointing to her left as they crossed Fifth Avenue. “More looters!”

  She was right. Knots of people were jumping in and out of the broken windows all along Fifth, scampering off through the dim dawn light with jewelry, leather, anything they could carry. Someone had pulled a panel truck up on the sidewalk in front of Bergdorf ’s and was loading it with dresses. As Jack was pulling away, he saw a bearded, professorial type step through the open space that had once been the big front window of a bookstore balancing a two-foot stack of books against the front of his tweed jacket.

  “Everybody’s getting into the act,” he said.

  Gia looked around. “Where are the police?”

  “Stretched pretty thin, I’d guess. At least when the sun’s all the way up these cockroaches will crawl back under the floorboards.”

  “It’s been only two days. I never dreamed…” Her voice trailed off.

  “What? That things could fall apart this fast? This city’s become a sewer, Gia. During the past year all the garbage wandering around this half of the country seems to have got themselves a Kicker tattoo and ended up here. Its veneer of civilization is now about as thick as the layer of gold on the jewelry they hawk on the streets. A couple of good rubs against your jeans and the base metal shows through.”

  “What about neighborliness and hanging together in times of trouble?”

  “Maybe they’ll have some of that out in Iowa where you grew up, and maybe there’ll be pockets of it around here, but not enough to matter. The good folks will be driven into hiding and the slime will be free to do whatever they damn well please.”

  “I don’t believe that. I don’t want to believe that. And it disturbs me to know you believe that.”

  Jack shrugged. “In my work, you get to spend a lot of time hip-deep in slime. You—”

  “Oh, my God!” Gia cried, craning her neck and staring up through the windshield.

  Jack slowed and glanced up. Something bright in the sky. He stuck his head out the window—and stopped the car to stare.

  Vicky popped her head out behind him. “Ooooh neeeeat!”

  “Jack! What’s happening? What is that?”

  “Looks like an apartment building,” Vicky said.

  Half a mile up, probably over the West Side Highway or the midtown piers, a building floated in the air. It hung as if suspended on an invisible wire, rotating slowly, its roof canted slightly eastward, its torn underside westward. Light from the rising sun flashed off the few intact windows. Broken-away masonry floated around it. Tiny figures leaned out the windows, waving shirts and towels in panicked attempts to attract the attention of the police helicopters that circled it like flies around a corpse.

  “Jeez!” Jack said as he stared upward at the slowly dwindling shape. “It’s still rising.”

  Those poor bastards trapped up there were doomed unless they could find a way of transferring to one of the helicopters.

  At least now he knew where a lot of the cops were.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Gia said, looking around.

  Jack hit the gas and they continued west. He refrained from saying I told you so as he ran red lights all the way to Amsterdam Avenue, then raced uptown to the Isher Sports Shop.

  Abe stood outside, waiting by his panel truck in front of his store’s smashed windows. So fixated was he on the flying building that he barely noticed their arrival. Jack screeched to a halt a half dozen feet in front of him.

  That got his attention.

  He cringed. “Gevalt! You’re trying to squish me already?”

  He was wearing a black suit jacket; his white shirt and black tie were clean. Obviously he hadn’t had breakfast yet.

  “Ready to go?” Jack said, pulling Vicky from the backseat.

  “Yes, of course.” Abe gave Gia a hug and Vicky a kiss on the top of her head. “I should want to keep two such beautiful young ladies waiting? Come with me. I’ve got Parabellum, coffee, juice, and not-so-fresh bagels in the front seat.”

  He opened the rear doors of the panel truck, then ushered Gia and Vicky around to the front. He returned as Jack was loading the last suitcase into the rear compartment. He pointed a trembling finger at the building in the sky.

  “It’s happening like you said, isn’t it?” Abe’s accent was gone. “All rules—man’s and God’s—pffft!”

  Jack looked and saw that the building was considerably higher than before. When would it stop rising? Would it stop rising?

  “Double-pffft!” Jack nodded toward the shattered storefront windows. “Looters?”

  Abe shrugged. “Nothing’s missing. Must have been those flying things. Haven’t seen any looting.”

  “Plenty of it going on in the high-rent district. They just haven’t got this far yet.”

  Abe thrust a set of keys into Jack’s hand. “Here. These are for the basement. A cannon it’ll take to get in without them. You need anything, help yourself.”

  Jack pointed toward the small armory inside the truck.

  “You mean there’s something left?”

  Jack hefted the keys and stuffed them in a front pocket. “The basement of the Isher Sports Shop was where Abe stocked his weapons—the illegal ones, plus the legal ones he sold illegally. He carried everything from blackjacks to Claymore land mines. Might be handy to have access to that sort of variety.

  “I might move in.”

  “Be my guest. You have the wavelength written down?”

  “Yeah. Got the shortwave set on it. If I don’t hear from you on the cell, I’ll be listening at seven A.M. and seven P.M. Don’t forget to call in.”

  Communications were getting iffy, so they’d decided to resort to shortwave radios.

  “Don’t worry.”

  “Which way you heading out? The Lincoln?”

  Abe nodded. “It’s closest. And from what you say, the quicker we get out, the better.”

  “You know it. You carrying?”

  Abe patted the heavy lump in the right-side pocket of his jacket. “Of course.”

  “Good. But maybe I’ll tail you through the tunnel anyway—just in case.”

  Abe huffed. “You don’t think I can protect your women?”

  “I wouldn’t be sending them off with you if I wasn’t sure of that.”

  They stared at each other in silence a few seconds.

  “Seems like we should say something here,” Abe said. “I mean, two old friends at the end of the world. One of us should be able to come up with something meaningful.”

  “You’re the guy with all the education. You do the honors.”

  Abe looked down, then smiled and thrust out his hand.

  “See you soon, Jack.”

  Jack smiled as they shook hands. That just about said it all.

  “Enough of this stuff. Get behind the wheel and I’ll say my good-byes to the ladies.”

  After a big hug from Vicky, Jack held Gia in his arms.

  “Be careful, Jack,” she whispered in his ear. “And thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For making us get out of town. You’re right. The city’s turning ugly. But you watch out.”

  He grinned. “Hell, I’m uglier than any city you can name.”

  “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about her.”

  “Oh.”

  He’d told Gia last night about how he was going to try to find Kolabati and snag her necklaces for Glaeken. Gia knew a few things about Kolabati, but Jack had never quite got around to telling her that they’d been lovers for a brief—very brief—time.

  “Don’t give me ‘oh.’ You got involved with her before and it almost killed you.”

  “That was my choice.”

  “She left you to die, Jack. This time she might finish the job.”

  “This time is different. I know what she is. I’ll be careful. I’ve got a lot to come back f
or.”

  She kissed him one last time, long and deep, then she got back into the front seat of the idling truck. Jack hurried back to his Crown Vic.

  He followed Abe over to West End and then downtown. Along the way, the lights were against them. They’d gone out of synch for some reason and Abe stopped at every red. Jack knew why. He probably had enough weaponry in the back to overthrow a banana republic. He didn’t want to get stopped and searched.

  It happened at about where West End starts calling itself Eleventh Avenue. As Abe pulled to a stop at yet another red light, three guys leapt from a doorway and charged the truck, two running around to the driver side, one leaping up and reaching in the passenger window.

  One of the guys on the left had a big hunting knife and the other carried a lead pipe. As Abe tried to pull away, the second guy began beating on Abe’s window. Jack was already accelerating when the glass shattered and the guy started swinging the pipe at Abe.

  The guy with the knife spotted Jack coming. He leapt out of the way as Jack sideswiped the truck, catching the pipe swinger hard on the backs of both legs. As he was spun and twisted between the two vehicles and tumbled to the pavement, screaming with the agony of two broken legs, Jack swerved at the guy with the knife and caught him head-on with the Vic’s nose. But the car wasn’t moving fast enough then to knock him sprawling. Instead he rolled up and over the hood and windshield and landed on the roof. He had to be hurt but he wasn’t out of action yet. He blindly stabbed his blade through the open window, narrowly missing Jack’s face. Jack ducked and grabbed the swinging wrist, wrenched the knife free, and paused, wondering what to do. Then he heard Vicky scream.

  Jack raised his window, trapping the arm below the elbow, then turned the wrist and rammed the blade—honed side down—through the belly of the forearm, between the two bones and out the other side. Above on the roof the guy howled and flopped about and tried to pull his arm free. But the protruding edges of the point and grip caught on the sides of the opening, forcing the cutting edge of the blade to slice farther down his arm. The guy screamed now.

  Jack jumped out the passenger side and saw Abe holding his bloody scalp with his left hand, a .45 automatic in his right. Vicky was next to him, crying, but Gia was nowhere in sight.

  Jack charged around to the far side and found another guy with a knife, the point against Gia’s throat.

  “All we want is the truck,” he said, breathing hard. He wore a clean plaid short-sleeved shirt and beige slacks, white socks and running shoes; he looked almost preppy except for the tattoos on his arms. “Give us the truck and no one gets hurt.”

  “We?” Jack said, pulling the Glock from its holster and slowly, methodically working the slide for effect, even though he already had a round chambered. He’d have to play this very carefully. “Us? We and Us are already down. They’re out of the picture. You’re on your own.”

  He paused to allow the guy to appreciate the wails and moans from his buddies on the far side of the truck and get a good look at the 9mm semiautomatic in Jack’s hand. He slid farther behind Gia.

  “You think you can get away with this?” Jack said softly.

  “Yeah. I can get away with anything, man! All the rules are off! Don’t you see that?” He stared for a moment into the sky over Jack’s left shoulder. “We got buildings and people flyin’ off into space during the day and monsters chewin’ up everything in sight all night. I been through detox twice, man, and I ain’t never seen shit like this, even when I was strung out like bubble gum. Anything goes, man. School is out!”

  “Not my class,” Jack said. “Let her go.”

  The guy pressed the knife blade against Gia’s throat. She winced at the sharp pressure.

  “The truck or I’ll cut her, man! I swear t’Christ I’ll cut her fucking throat!”

  Jack felt his heart begin to hammer. Gia’s panicked eyes pleaded with him. He gave her a little nod of encouragement as he controlled himself. Had to be cool here. Had to go slow.

  But if this bastard so much as broke her skin …

  Jack settled the Glock into a two-handed grip and raised it until it was sighted at the guy’s right eye where he peeked out from behind Gia’s ear.

  “You’ve been watching too many movies, turkey. This kind of thing doesn’t work in real life. I’ve got a gun and you’ve got a knife. You cut her, you’ve lost your shield.” Jack took a step closer. “Now, so far today you and your buddies have hurt a very good friend, deeply frightened a little girl I couldn’t care for more if she were my own flesh and blood, and manhandled the woman I love.” Another small step closer. “So I’m royally pissed. But I’m willing to work a deal. Drop the knife and you live. I’ll let you walk.”

  The guy’s laugh was flat and tremulous as he peeked out from behind Gia’s head to speak.

  “Don’t try to bullshit me. I got your bitch here. I’ve got a knife at her neck. I’m callin’ the shots!”

  A car came by, slowed for a look, then sped away. Jack slipped forward another step.

  “Maybe I didn’t make it clear. Listen again. Drop it, you live. Spill one drop of her blood, you die—slowly. First I shoot off your right kneecap, then your left, then your right elbow, then your left. Then a gut shot. Then I take your knife and start cutting off pieces I decide you don’t need anymore and feed them to you.”

  “Jack … please!” Gia said.

  “Sorry. Just want to let this guy know what he’s in for.”

  “You think that scares me?” the guy said, peeking out again. “I’ll show you how scared I—”

  Jack shot him in the eye. His head snapped back, a red mist blooming behind him; his arms flung outward as he lurched back and collapsed on the pavement.

  Jack leapt forward and encircled Gia with his arms.

  “Don’t look,” he said, watching over her shoulder as a red puddle grew under the guy’s head.

  But Gia turned for a quick glance, and just as quickly turned away. Jack led her back to the truck and they spent a few minutes calming Vicky. When mother and daughter were tightly wound in each other’s arms, Jack looked past them to Abe.

  “You okay to drive?”

  Abe nodded. “Only a scratch. But that guy on your car—what’s his problem?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jack said. “Almost forgot about him.”

  He went back to his car and found the other knifer lying on the roof, pale, sweaty, looking sick.

  “Don’t hurt me,” he said in a weak voice. “I give up.”

  Jack wondered how the guy would respond if situations were reversed. How much mercy could he expect from him and his buddies? He decided it didn’t merit much consideration.

  He ducked inside the Vic. The driver window and door were smeared with blood.

  “You bled all over my car!” Jack shouted.

  On the roof he heard a blubbering whimper. Disgusted, Jack yanked the knife blade from the guy’s forearm and lowered the window. A muffled scream from above as he jerked his arm free and rolled off the roof to the street. A couple more cars passed as Jack went to the corner and dropped the knife through a sewer grate, then returned to the truck.

  He gave Gia and Vicky one last hug, then slammed the door.

  “Better get going, Abe. Traffic’s picking up.”

  “Jack,” Gia said as he started back to his car. Her face was pale and tear-streaked as she stared at him through the window. “Would you have let him go if he dropped the knife? You had that look in your eyes, Jack. I’ve seen that look before. I know what it means. Would you have kept your word?”

  “Doesn’t make much difference now.”

  “I just want to know.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  He hoped he was convincing. Because he was anything but sure.

  Pulling away from the scene, Jack glanced in the rearview mirror. One of the attackers lay dead in a pool of blood, staring skyward with his remaining eye, another squatted on the pavement, moaning and cradling a bloody arm, while a th
ird crawled toward the curb, dragging his broken legs behind him. Gia’s question echoed in his head then and followed him the rest of the way to the Lincoln Tunnel.

  She knew him too well. Why’d she have to ask that question? He didn’t like to think about that sort of thing. It wasn’t necessary. The guy was dead. A part of Jack had taken immense pleasure in blowing his brains out the back of his head. But he’d learned to wall off that part of himself, to refrain from joining the joyous partying in the dark corner behind the wall.

  Would he have let the guy go? Abe bloodied, Vicky terrified, a knifepoint jabbed against Gia’s throat—how could he forgive that? Turn his back as the guy who’d caused it all sauntered off unscathed? Jack wasn’t sure. Allowing someone who’d done damage to his friends to walk the streets with no pain or scars to remind him never even to think about doing something like that again … That might be too much to ask.

  But if he’d said he’d let the guy go in exchange for dropping the knife, he’d have to do it. Or would he?

  All the rules are off, man!

  No. Not all of them. Some rules—at least the ones he had some say about—had to stay in effect.

  He yawned. He hadn’t had much sleep last night, and he found introspection tough work.

  He followed Abe’s truck the rest of the way to the Lincoln Tunnel, watched and waved as it rolled down the ramp into the tiled gullet, then headed crosstown to Walt Duran’s place. He hoped he’d made it through the night okay. And he hoped he was on schedule with his engraving. If not, Jack was going to have to induce him into a higher gear.

  WNYW-TV

  Ladies and gentlemen, we are interrupting our special report from Central Park with catastrophic news from the Central Pacific. The Big Island of Hawaii is gone. Shortly after sunset, the chain of eight islands that make up our fiftieth state was shaken by a cataclysmic explosion. At that instant, all communications with Hawaii, or the Big Island as it is called, were cut off. The mystery was quickly solved.