"Animal Control"
Philadelphia – 1984
Whip paced about the alleyway, absently kicking up dirt as she shuffled about. The girl played with the fringe of her French braid and ground her teeth together. She still had those three cigarettes in her pocket, and she patted her thigh to feel their outline. The girl had told Penance the truth, earlier; she really didn't smoke.
But over the past three days she thought she might start.
Penance still hid in her apartment upstairs. The furor over Father Kenaz's death was still in full-swing on television and the radio. No surprise there: it was a very 'sexy' news story. But pressure on the neighborhood itself was slowly loosening. Instead of focusing on people in the neighborhood the authorities were looking into another theory. They thought Kenaz might be the victim of a serial killer; someone who last struck not too long ago in Baltimore.
They called him the 'Headsman'.
Whip again felt for the cigarette pack. She sighed. Life for her, up until now, was a pretty simple thing, and while she didn't think she was a very 'good' person Whip didn't think she was that bad, either. Somewhere along the line, though, she must've pissed off the Almighty something fierce.
After all: that's gotta be the only way she could wind up harboring an undead 12-year-old priest-killing kid with a knife fetish and a penchant for talking to decapitated animals.
Whip stopped walking and she couldn't help but smile. Why couldn't they make a horror movie like that in Hollywood? Other movies were just lame. Moviemakers were scraping the bottom of the barrel as it was. She actually heard that there was a 'horror' movie coming out later this year where they're going to try making the villain scary by putting scars on his face and giving him some kind of glove with knives on each finger.
That wasn't horror to Whip. Not by a long shot. You want real horror? Don't make your villain actually look like a deranged villain. Give him normal hands, just like anyone else. And give him a normal face. More than that, even: give him the face of a choirboy. Whip drew another deep breath.
Yeah: that was an idea that actually terrified.
The girl's pensive pacing was soon interrupted by footsteps. Her two partners in crime— the short, stocky boy and the older, skinny boy— approached. The smaller boy, Tyrone, flashed the girl an impish smile, his yellowed teeth beaming:
"What's happenin', Whip?"
"What's happenin' yourself," she answered.
The older, skinnier boy— Russell— crossed his arms and leaned against the graffiti-covered wall of the building:
"You ain't gonna believe this, girl," he said. "But you remember that little prick we shook down in this alley? The one with the plaid backpack, who was workin' over at the church?"
"The one you kicked in the balls?" Tyrone laughed, braying like a donkey.
"I remember," Whip nodded.
"Get this," Tyrone interrupted Russell, spreading his hands dramatically and jumping in between Whip and the older boy. Russell looked like he would cold-cock the kid, but he stepped back, shaking his head and muttering. "Word's out that the feds wanna get a hold of that kid for some reason, and they got a cash offer out. You're not gonna believe the price, either!"
Russell slapped the back of Tyrone's head:
"Already told her, that, fool!" He looked at Whip: "Anyway, girl: we're talkin' 50K. You get that: Fifty-thousand bucks!"
Whip's eyes widened. The girl licked her lips, and she exhaled a slow breath.
"Got 'er speechless!" Tyrone teased. "Me too, at first!"
"What do the feds want him for?" Whip asked.
Russell shook his head:
"Dunno. Probably somethin' to do with that priest's killin'. Maybe the little prick snapped, you think?"
Tyrone again brayed like a donkey, slapping Russell's side:
"Yeah, right! Nah: kid probably saw whoever capped the priest. Bet he shit his pants and ran off, and the cops have just run out of crap on the ground to chase him by!"
Russell nudged Tyrone out of the way and addressed Whip:
"Listen, girl: you were in kinda tight with that kid, am I right?"
"Not exactly," she said.
"Or at least you talked to him, some. Look: ol' Ikey wants the kid, and once he turns the prick over to the feds Ikey's willing to kick a friggin' grand apiece to each of us, if we bring the little prick to him."
Whip stared down at her shoes.
"Come on, girl! You gotta have some idea where the runt went off to. Doncha?"
Whip mulled this over in her head. She thought about everything Penance had told her, and everything she'd actually seen him do. He was in trouble, so he claimed, and really big trouble, too. But wasn't he also 'trouble'? Sure he was: big trouble, too. Would it really be so bad having him in custody with the feds? He'd be safer with them than on his own, right? God knows everyone else would be safer with him locked up, too.
Still, the thought of betraying the kid ran raw with her. It was just too distasteful, until Whip found a suitable analogy: this wasn't really 'betraying' the kid, was it? It was more like calling animal control on a dangerous animal. And a dangerous animal is a dangerous animal, period.
Even if you really liked the thing, you can't just allow it to roam free, can you?
No, of course you can't.
So, really, this was her civic duty, too, wasn't it?
Well, of course it was. Sure.
Whip looked up at Russell, and her eyes were resolute:
"Are we sure these are feds? Absolutely sure?"
Tyrone scoffed:
"Who else would want a scrawny little white bread bitch like him?"
"Just tell me, guys: are we completely sure these are real feds?"
"Guys in the 'hood have seen one of the feds scrounging for him," Russell explained. "I met him, too. Even saw his badge, Whip. And it looked legit."
The girl crossed her arms and rested her back against the wall. She looked up into the sky, again drawing a slow breath.
"Whip," Russell said, "if you know where he went off to, maybe we got time to track his ass down. But we need to hustle! C'mon: let's go!"
Russell gripped Whip's hand but the girl pulled away from him, shaking her head.
"No," she said. "We're not doing that."
"Why the hell not?" Tyrone got in the girl's face (standing on tiptoes, naturally). "What part of a grand apiece did you not get, Whip?"
"We're not going after the kid," she said, "'cause we don't have to."
Both boys tilted their heads like dogs, gazing at the girl incredulously.
"Why not?" Russell asked.
Whip motioned up to her penthouse apartment:
"'cause he's a lot closer than you both think."
X
X
X
Penance sat in the exact middle of Whip's open-air room, legs crossed. He wore a new pair of khaki shorts, courtesy of Whip's little shopping trip, and also a new shirt. Turns out it was yet another Cal Ripkin Jr. jersey. Only this one was black instead of the usual Orioles orange. He didn't like the color mismatch at all, and black was never really 'his' color, so to speak. Still, when Whip pulled it out of that bag for him and plopped it down in his lap— saying nothing— he couldn't help but smile a little. Even now, as he stewed in a melancholy little funk, thinking about the ugly black shirt lifted his spirits just a little bit.
Galabeg sat before him, its lifeless eyes leering up at the boy. Penance looked down at the fox head and scowled:
"No: it's the thought that counts," he mumbled.
Soon the door behind him opened and Whip walked into the room. She slowly circled the boy and stood before him. For a moment she didn't speak, and when she opened her mouth Penance interrupted her:
"I've worn out my welcome, I know," he said. The boy shook his head and laughed a little. "I mean: I shouldn't even be here, now. It's a mistake, staying so long. A big mistake."
"Does Galabeg think so?" Whip playfully nudged the fox head with her shoe.
"She thinks everything I do is a mistake. But I've been making mistakes, lately. Lots of them. So, so many..."
"Like?"
Penance shrugged:
"Where to start? Staying at the church was the first one—"
"You couldn't have known that Father Kenaz was... well, one of whatever you are—"
"Doesn't matter," Penance shook his head. "I should've been long gone from here a long time ago. I should be in New York or even Canada by now." He smiled. "You ever hear about a place called Ellesmere Island?"
Whip shook her head.
"It's up in Canada. It's a long, thin stretch of land. Supposed to be really pretty, not a soul around for miles. I had it in my mind to travel up there— I've never been, you see— and maybe spend a few years living with the muskoxen herds." He shrugged. "Of course they smell really bad, I'm told, so I'd have to get used to it. Doesn't matter; I've got time..."
"Gotta be really far north, right? Lots of ice, and all."
Penance nodded.
"Winter'd be setting in by the time you get there, you know. You'd probably die."
Again the boy shrugged:
"Maybe. Maybe not. But I'd thaw out in the spring. I dunno. Maybe I wouldn't go there, but I know that I need to go north. Going north right now is very important. I kinda feel it in my blood. In my bones. Can't explain it, but I've run on my instinct for so long that I know to trust it. And I didn't, here. I stayed because..." he shook his head.
Whip knelt down:
"Because why?"
"I wanted someone to talk to, I guess. First you, and then Kenaz. He seemed to get me pretty well; I felt good talking to him. Now I know why he got me so well. But I should've known sooner. Way sooner. I've been careless. I knew there was another Immortal at St. Hubertus, but I was sloppy sussing them out. This creepy old guy kept paying attention to me..." Penance stared down at the floorboards and shook his head, laughing. "I can tell when there's another Immortal near me, but I gotta pay attention to do it right. Well, I haven't been paying good attention. I thought it was that creepy guy 'cause he kept following me around, handing out candy bars, offering for me to come work at his house. I thought the worst about him, but the poor guy was probably just an innocent pedophile..."
Whip's brow contorted to a nearly impossible degree; the look on her face was hilarious.
"You know what I mean," Penance mumbled.
"Listen, Pen, I—"
The boy's brow suddenly ticked. Penance whipped his body around and chucked his little knife with one effortless motion. The blade sailed through the air like a streak of lightning and struck a small mouse scurrying along the corner of the room. Ironically it got him in the neck, and the mouse came apart in two clean, macabre pieces.
"Jesus!" Whip jumped up and backed away from the boy.
Penance absently held up the bag of Rice Krispies.
"It's just a pest," he said. "A filthy little good-for-nothing Rice Krispie eater..."
The boy got up lazily, popping his spine, and he sauntered over to the dead mouse. He retrieved his little knife and wiped the blade down with a dirty fast food napkin from his pocket.
"He was a problem, and now he's not. Pretty simple." The boy explained.
Whip sighed and approached the boy. She looked down at the now-headless mouse as she spoke:
"The feds're looking for you, kid. They're aiming to bring you in, and they've got a good description of you. I know someone who can help you; they can... they can get you out of the city lickety split."
Penance looked at the girl, his face noncommittal:
"Who, exactly?" He asked.
"A guy named Ikey Boggs. He runs a curios shop about three blocks from here."
"How's a Tchotchke peddler going to help me, exactly?"
"His shop ain't exactly on the up-and-up. He deals in more than just worthless trinkets, and he uses people like me to collect and move his merchandise."
"He's a fence, you mean?"
Whip shrugged:
"Helps pay the bills, white bread. Ikey's the best around, though. They call him 'Babysplitter Boggs', because he's always up for whatever deal comes his way. Even if his merchandise were a newborn baby, he'd sell it by the limb if he could get a better price than sellin' it in one piece."
"Swift of him," Penance shuddered. "But why would he wanna help me?"
"'cause you're with me," Whip tapped her own sternum. "I'm one of the best talents ol' Ikey has. Believe me, kid—"
"I'm sure you're a very artful dodger," Penance grumbled.
"—and he owes me more'n a few favors." Whip took a few steps toward the boy. "He can help you, Pen; he can get you up north, if that's what you want. All you gotta do is meet with the guy."
Penance crossed his arms and stared down at the floor. When he looked up at the girl he bore a sarcastic smirk:
"You're willing to pull in favors like that just to get me out of your hair, Whip?"
"Selfish of me, you think?" She winked at him.
Penance ground his teeth together and rubbed one shoe against the floor.
"I don't know," he grumbled. "I can't make any more mistakes, Whip."
"But you gotta clean up the ones you have made, kid. Ikey can help you do that. If you're scared—"
"I'm not scared of a goddamn thing," Penance growled.
"I mean if you're worried, then don't. Ikey's no fan of the police, local or fed. And trust me: he doesn't care about why they want you, or what you may have done to deserve it. He's a businessman, plain and simple."
The boy looked up at the girl, lips scrunched. He sighed through his nose. Whip smiled gently and pulled the pack of cigarettes from her pants. She dangled one of the cigarettes in the air in front of the boy:
"C'mon: would you do it for a Penance-snack?"
The boy smiled, and then chuckled. He snatched the cigarette out of the air faster than the girl could react to, and then shoved it into his pants pocket.
"I'll meet him, I guess," Penance said. "No harm in that, really."
Whip nodded. She motioned to the apartment door:
"Listen, Pen: I got my friends outside. Well, not friends, really, but they were the ones that helped me... you know..." she motioned to Penance.
"Rob me?" Penance scowled. "Why're they here?"
"They're helping me to convince Ikey to help you out. This is a big favor I'm calling in, Pen, with the heat on you like it is. We all go see him together, and he'll be more likely to agree to help you."
Penance looked away from the girl, staring down at Galabeg's lifeless head. He grit his teeth again, and when he started shaking his head he felt Whip's hand touch his shoulder. It was a gentle touch, and it startled him back to the here-and-now:
"I'm not going to lie to you, kid: I think you'll end up being a whole lot safer if you follow us to Ikey. I ain't gonna say I know all there is to know about you— 'cause I don't— but I will say that going to see Ikey is the best thing you can do for yourself right now."
He looked Whip in the eyes. Those big brown orbs didn't waver once. Penance was no lie detector— that was for certain— but sometimes he did know when people were telling the truth. And, at the very least, he thought Whip believed what she was saying. And her belief, he thought, went further with him than it probably should have. He absolutely couldn't make another mistake, but he couldn't dismiss the girl, outright.
"Okay," he said. "I'll meet the guy..."
Whip smiled gently and gave the boy's shoulder a little squeeze. She went to the apartment door and opened it. The short, stocky boy and his older accomplice stood just outside. She walked out to meet them, and Penance bundled Galabeg into his pocket before doing the same. The taller boy extended a hand to Penance when he came out and gave him a toothy smile:
"Listen, kid: sorry about that whole thing from before. See, it was just—"
Penance walked by the boy without meeting his hand, and he didn't look him in the face.
"Go fuck yourselves," he said. He approached Whip and nodded to her. "Let's get this over with."
The shorter boy crossed his arms, scowling at Penance: "Yeah, lets," he growled.
X
X
X
A pungent must filled the curios shop. Rows of wooden shelves plunged into a dimly-lit gloom, like a troll's cave in some fantasy story. All of the shelves were littered with cheap oddities and garish trinkets. Everywhere there was dust, and it billowed through the air, kicked up by the building's air conditioning, weaving strange patterns under cold, sterile light bulbs hanging from the ceiling.
This place was more a mausoleum than a store, Penance thought.
"I'll go talk to Ikey," one of the boys escorting them said. "Y'all just sit tight here for a little." The taller boy disappeared into a back room, while the squat, younger boy stayed out in the shop with Penance and Whip. Penance milled through a few of the aisles, absently surveying the shelves.
"Lotta junk, right?" Whip smirked as she followed the boy.
"Pretty random, I'll give him that," Penance nodded. The boy came to a certain object on top of one of the shelves: it was a large circular chain made of interlocking pieces of rusty metal. Cruel-looking spines rose off the thing at regular intervals, radiating out in a daisy-chain like some fearsome monster's teeth turned inside-out. He pulled the thing off the shelf and bobbled it about, making it clang noisily in the otherwise soundless shop.
"What the heck is that?" Whip asked. Penance smirked as he turned the thing over in his hands.
"This is a Spanish thing. It's called a carlancas."
"What's it used for?"
"They're worn by dogs. Usually sheepdogs, or other animals that protect livestock."
Whip touched one of the spines and shuddered a bit:
"Lemme guess: you'd put 'em on dogs that you don't like?"
"Just the opposite," Penance again bobbled the thing in his hands, and he looked over at the stocky boy:
"How much would Ikey want for this, you think?"
The boy gave Penance an overly-sunny smile; he waved a hand:
"Aw, shucks, kid! Ikey doesn't care about any of this stuff. See something you like? Well, you just go on and take it. Within reason, 'course."
Penance nodded, and he dumped the thing into his backpack. Soon the stocky boy was called into the back office to join his older compatriot, and that left Whip and Penance alone. They sat on two benches in the back of the store near the office door, facing each other.
"That collar ain't gonna be as useful as you think," Whip noted. "I mean, you got away with wearin' that little black dog collar around your neck, yeah— and people just thought you were a weirdo, I guess—"
"Thanks for that," Penance mumbled.
"—but that big 'ol Carl Manca you got—"
"Carlancas."
"—ain't exactly subtle, is it? I mean, you can't wear that in public, can you?"
Penance shrugged and nodded. "No, I guess I can't," he said. "But it's always good to be prepared. That's kinda how I've lived so long in the first place."
"That and you're a real animal in a fight."
He smiled, looking away from the girl.
"That helps. Mostly, though, it's also that I don't ever trust anyone, as a rule. It usually doesn't end too well for me." He looked Whip in the eyes, and the girl looked him square in the shirt: "Uh, listen, Whip: you didn't have to go and save me from Daniel like you did. And if you didn't, well..." he shook his head. "I just never thanked you for that, and I guess I should. So... you know... thanks."
The girl stared at his shirt; she said nothing.
"It's how I was taught to survive, you know. By that guy I told you about— Uallas. He beat it into me pretty hard, and it's been good advice on the whole. Sometimes, though, it isn't, and I'm gonna be honest: it gets really tiring. Following it, I mean. But Uallas: he taught me more than anything how important it is to follow his advice. See, as it turns out he and his, uh..."
Penance's words slowed. He stared down at his lap and clasped his hands together. He smirked, trying to give off a small chuckle. It didn't really work.
"I'm doing it again, aren't I?" The boy shook his head. "I keep wanting to talk. I don't know why. And I don't know why I'm making so many mistakes, lately. One after the other. I don't know why I'm so sloppy. I don't know why I feel so tired..."
The office doors swung open, and both the stocky boy and the tall one emerged.
"Ol' Ikey wants to see you, kid," the taller boy said, motioning into the office. "He's got a plan for you..."
Penance looked at Whip, who finally returned the boy's gaze. They both slowly got to their feet at the same time, and Penance took a few steps toward the office.
"Penance," Whip called.
The boy turned to face the girl.
"Yeah?"
Whip's lips trembled, but she willed them still. She licked her lips and gave the boy a small smile:
"You're welcome," she whispered.
Penance reciprocated the smile, and then the pair walked through the door into and the office. They were followed by the two boys, who shut the doors behind them. They made a soft boom as they closed, and echoed in the stale air like the lid of a coffin snapping shut.
