The most recent fuckup wasn’t nearly their first – this had been a long time coming. They’d endangered the Inferne Cutis through their combined idiocy (they were trustworthy enough alone, but reverted to teenage behavior when in each other’s company) more times than Palermo cared to mention.
The last movement Lamb had seen inside the apartment was a few hours ago when someone appeared to be throwing all kinds of things in all kinds of directions. Plates, cups, and china dolls smashing everywhere. Neither Lamb nor Kinzett knew what to make of it, so they just radioed in the occurrence and waited for instructions. No one at the warehouse knew what to make of it either, so no instructions came – and in the intervening time, Palermo had been kidnapped and taken “fuck knows where,” as the Runner in charge at the warehouse had said, so they had a whole new set of problems to contend with on their end, effectively relegating Kinzett and Lamb’s babysitting assignment to the bottom of the priority list.
What was on both of their minds, though, was what had happened to the ambulance driver Kinzett had seen enter Faye’s apartment. Lamb’s sightline into the apartment was decent enough to see what was taking place in a certain section of the living room, where the drapes had been partially opened, but the apartment’s front door – and the surrounding area – was completely obscured. So Kinzett had seen him for only a moment as he came into view, but then lost sight of him, and never saw him again.
“Can an ambulance driver just fuck off with an ambulance all day, ladygirl?” Lamb had asked Kinzett.
“No, they’ll come looking for him eventually,” Kinzett had answered. “Might have to wait till the cops are alerted before we know what’s going on in there. For now, we just sit and wait, as ordered. Don’t go getting any bright ideas.”
“Oh, right, I forgot: you’re the smart one; I’m the idiot.”
“Nah, we’re both idiots, but you have that ridiculous penis, which clouds your judgement, so I get to be the leader.”
“Yeah, I’m definitely the dickhead. No argument there.”
They’d both laughed, then fallen into a comfortable silence – the kind of silence only old friends drew actual comfort from.
Now, the radio crackled again.
“How long we gotta do radio silence?”
Kinzett sighed. “Radio silence isn’t something we ‘do,’ Lamb; it’s something that just is, so long as you keep your mouth shut.”
They were quiet for another five minutes or so, then Kinzett’s cell phone buzzed on the passenger seat, scaring the shit out of her. “This better not be you, Lamb,” she mumbled. “Again.”
She swiped the green symbol across the screen, held the phone up to her ear. “Kinzett.”
“Kinzett, you and Lamb have been called back. Get off the apartment. We need everyone back at the warehouse, anyway. Figure this Palermo thing out.”
“Roger that, headed back now.”
Kinzett hung up the phone, pressed the button on the walkie. “Let’s go back. We’ve been called off,” she said, and started her car’s engine.
“What? Why?”
“Dunno, but we’re done here. Let’s go. You should be happy. You just got through bitching about the assignment, and now you’re questioning the reason we don’t have to do it anymore? Pick a side, sasquatch.”
“Sasquatch? Why you gotta call me that?”
“’Cause you’re hairy as hell, that’s why. When you sit in the bathtub, I bet it feels like you’re sittin’ on grass.”
They traded a few more insults, then drove away, their headlights slicing through the last bit of snow that would fall that night. The rest of the evening would be clear.
The next morning, though, it would start to snow again.
And dead bodies in and around Faye’s building – spines crushed and skulls splintered – would be the first to be touched by the snowflakes.
S I X T E E N
While Henry and Faye slept, Milo hovered around the living room, thinking, wondering where Henry was going to go, where all this was leading, and how it had all become so fucked up in the first place.
Was a simple, clean death really so much to ask for? Just lop my head off, and let me welcome the black.
Two hours into their three-hour nap, Milo was roused from his musings by headlights below. It was nearly 2 a.m., and nothing outside had moved for about an hour. The snow had finally stopped, and now lay in a thick blanket over everything.
He drifted over to the window, saw that a car had pulled into the parking lot. Two men got out. One he didn’t recognize, but the other was Edward Palermo. At street level, it would be difficult to see, but looking directly down as Milo was, it was unmistakable: the man he didn’t recognize had a gun in Palermo’s back and was marching him toward the back entrance of Faye’s building.
Milo’s eyes widened, and he immediately went for Henry. Drifted through the door, concentrated on engaging with the physical world, putting his hands on Henry’s broad shoulders, shaking, shaking. “Henry! Wake up! Palermo’s here. Fucking Palermo. We gotta bail, man. Wake up!”