PERILS

Chapter Six

August evenings in New York can be quite pleasant. If you don't wish to be disturbed, the wee hours can be even more pleasant, but the Doctor was not worried about being disturbed. What little sleep he'd achieved had not refreshed him, the bus stop bench on which he slouched was uncomfortable and he hadn't eaten for about 15 hours. When emptying the Doctor's coat pockets the previous day, Colie had retrieved whatever perishable food the Doctor had accepted at the picnic, but dropped into the sack anything that could be left for his later enjoyment. That food, along with the rest of his possessions, was now back in his pockets. (He had folded up the sack and stuffed that into a pocket too, without even realizing what he was doing.) He didn't think to look. His stomach told him he was hungry but he just wasn't in the mood. He couldn't have described his mood. He was at once numb and agitated. His nightmare, which he could not remember beyond an intense sense of despair, was still clinging to him like a layer of sweat. His experience upon awakening from it had been so unexpected that he was still off kilter from that, too.

It was five-thirty in the morning when the Doctor was awakened, again unexpectedly but much more gently, by not-Annie, who'd just arrived (by bus) to start her work day.

"Mister Doctor! What are you doing out here?" She sat down next to him. "She did it again!"

"Again?"

"The only difference between the two of them is he goes out for it and she brings it home. But she didn't bring you home. So she made her play for you and… you bit? You didn't bite? I'm guessing you didn't bite. You're different, Mister Doctor. I don't know why or how, but you're different."

"What's your real name? Not Annie, so, then, what?"

"My name is Claudine Williams, I have a husband and two children of my own at home, and we're going to move to Atlantic City as soon as we can. There's jobs there. What's your real name?"

"It really is just 'the Doctor.'"

Claudine sighed. "All right, Mister Doctor…"

"Just 'Doctor,' please."

"All right, Doctor. I have to go be Annie now. You go on to work too. Oh, how're you going to get to work anyway?"

The Doctor stood up and stretched. "It's not that far. I can walk."

"You got paid on the truck, right?" He nodded. "Well, you'd better ask the foreman to pay you if you're not going to be on the truck."

"Thanks. I was wondering that." He hesitated before asking, "Claudine, in the Royces' home you speak… differently. You're quite well spoken outside of there…."

"We all do what we have to do." She got up to go, then turned to the Doctor. "Where will you sleep tonight?" She reached into her handbag and pulled out a purse, from which she took some coins, gave the Doctor a few and put the rest back into the purse. "Bus fare," she apologized, "or I'll be as stuck as you."

*0*0*0*

The foreman was not thrilled to see the Doctor, as he had not come on the truck and could represent one more day worker than planned, but when the truck did arrive, carrying the appropriate number of workers, one of them had passed out from the heat and was unable to work. The Doctor himself was overdressed but determined to work, and the foreman grudgingly agreed to pay him if he worked the full day. Off he ran, delivering materials as needed, hoping to run into A.J. again. He didn't run into him all morning, but A.J. sought him out at lunch time. The Doctor didn't have a bag lunch but he had random picnic items in his pockets: olives, Saratoga chips, peanut sandwiches and more jelly beans. He munched on all that while A.J. frowned at his no-longer-clean and terribly hot clothing.

"You're boiling," observed A.J. "What happened?"

"I got kicked out of my digs," murmured the Doctor.

"You need a place to bunk? I might be able to help." He left the Doctor a third of his soup as well; the break was almost over so the Doctor scoffed that down and stood on the girder, where several of the skywalkers sat and ate. "All right, Burning Sky, or I should call you Boiling Sky today - you're 'jack' again for the rest of the day, but meet me in the back, where the truck goes, after you pick up your pay. Don't you forget to pick that up, now!"

"I won't."

Having eaten seemed to make the 94-degree heat worse, but there was no place to leave his clothing, so the Doctor had to keep it on. By the time he caught up with A.J. at the end of the day it was somewhat cooler but he was still nauseated and feared he might be suffering from heat stroke. To his surprise, A.J. lived within a few blocks of the job site, in a small room on the third floor of a boarding house full of other Mohawks, and by the time they reached it (first stopping off at a little eatery), the Doctor felt much better. "Twenty-five cents a night with breakfast," said A.J., "and thirty if you want supper too, but supper ends earlier than we get off work. You stay with me tonight and tomorrow we'll see if you can get your own room." The chair in which the Doctor slept that night was a lot more comfortable than the bus stop bench, and his sleep was undisturbed by dream or damsel.

The Doctor used the sack he'd unwittingly stolen to store his jacket and jumper in A.J.'s small, neat room, and the two walked to work together with full stomachs and decently packed lunch bags. The temperature was down to 80 degrees and without his jumper and coat, and with his sleeves rolled up, the Doctor was as hot as everyone else but no hotter. The foreman had put him on his list so there wouldn't be any confusion about his right to work that day; the Doctor thought the foreman probably wasn't supposed to do that but was grateful that he had thought to do it. (He didn't know that some of the regular metal workers had specifically requested that he be kept on, as he was the fastest jack they had!) The morning flew by and it was a relaxed and happy Doctor who sat on the girder with the skywalkers, enjoying his bag lunch, listening to the conversations around him, many of which were in Kanienʼkéha and some of which mentioned him; A.J. had gone to the "shade" and would be back shortly.

"He shouldn't be up here with us," one skywalker asserted. He was voted down rapidly:

"He is special, and under our protection."

"How do we know he is special?"

"Weren't you here the other day?"

"No, my sister was sick."

"Well, then!"

"He is respectful and doesn't do that woo-woo thing they all do."

"I think he is an ancestral spirit."

"No, he is a white guy, but he is different. Special. There's no denying that."

"Special how?

"All right, leave him alone; he's not hurting anyone."

Rather pleased with what he was hearing, the Doctor didn't at first notice that A.J. hadn't come back. When he did notice, he was slightly alarmed and looked down, something he'd avoided doing, was immediately dizzy, looked up and around at the others on the girder and regained his composure but still felt a twinge of unease; where was A.J.?

When the group broke up to return to work, the Doctor followed them, was immediately called ("hey jack!") and sent down to fetch some materials – and saw a brown bag, someone's lunch, by the nearest hoist. He knew right away it was A.J.'s. Before he could process that, he found himself being pushed back toward a girder. He tried to fight back but there were two people pushing him and one was holding his arms tightly behind him. He found himself on all fours, his arms having been freed, clinging to the girder, still atop it but barely.

The Doctor fully expected to be pushed to his death in the next moment, but that didn't happen. He turned, carefully, quite slowly, and stood up on the girder. One of his two attackers – the skywalker who hadn't seen him traverse a girder on his first day – was being restrained by his coworkers. The Master, pointing his tissue compression eliminator all around him, was keeping them all at bay; clearly it was some kind of weapon, even if they didn't know precisely what kind. "Walk, Doctor," commanded the Master, "or fly. Whichever you prefer."

The Doctor fully expected to be pushed to his death in the next moment, but that didn't happen. He turned, carefully, quite slowly, and stood up on the girder. One of his two attackers – the skywalker who hadn't seen him traverse a girder on his first day – was being restrained by his coworkers. The Master, dressed in A.J.'s clothes and pointing his tissue compression eliminator all around him, was keeping them all at bay; clearly it was some kind of weapon, even if they didn't know precisely what kind. "Walk, Doctor," commanded the Master, "or fly. Whichever you prefer."