Annie

First posted: 26 February 1996

Not e'en a wind to break the debilitated indifference o' th' sky.

Gods o' all me ancestors. Remind me again why i moved to this city? 'Tis not th' place o' my memories. So much has changed...

Old fool...

Damn.

Not even the ocean can be bothered today, it seems. Waves to tired t' crest. They merely bump apathetically 'gainst th' rocks near the warf.

Come on, old Girl... Show me ye still got th' juice. Give th' rage ye got bottled up. Just one white cap. 'Tis not much t' ask o' ye.

Damn.

Old fool...

I should know better, i should. Been through enough o' these "aniversaries". Various friends have given me their slant on how t' deal wi' th' situation. Ne'er fall in love, said one. Embrace life even though ye know it's not t' last, said another. Take what ye can an' be first out th' door, was the phlegmatic advice o' a third. Right bastard, he was. Is, maybe. Dunno... Dammit, old Dog. Life's a bitch. Can't even keep track o' yer friends. Such as they are...

Must 'ave been one awful mother fucker in a past life t' win this prize, i reflect wi' a bleak chuckle.

Ah well, so it goes. Jus' like i always knew She would, barrin' any unfortunate, an' final, mis-stroke on me own part. Still... It hurts.

Not getting anythin' from the ocean i start walkin' back toward the concrete canyons. Maybe the inside o' a bottle will do th' trick. Have a drink or two to remember.

Been a few years now. One would think it would get easier. Well, be fair, John, old boy, it has. Now yer only moribund one day o' th' year rather than th' whole fraggin' lot o' em. Fair 'nough trade, i suppose.

Damn.

***

Nothin' like th' back, nameless streets o' a giant, annonymous city t' help ye stay in just th' right miserable frame of shitty existence that yer lookin' for when all yer thinkin' 'bout is th' day ye burried Her.

Where th' fuck am i? I rhetorically ask meself, lookin' round for a street sigh. Ah well. First, i really don't care, second, looks like some enterprisin' soul or another has ripped them off. Gods only know if there be a market for used street signs. Heh. Trust th' weirdest things t' give th' small amusements.

Like those shadows o'er there that 'ave been followin' along behind me now for the last couple blocks, or so. Oh, come on, an' try somethin'. Please. A little distraction. A quick dance, yes? Wonder who's turf i'm on? Haven't learned all th' gangs yet. Quite a few o' them. Doesn't help not known where i am, either. But ask me if i care.

'Nother block. Pity. Shadow seems t' have taken himself away. What, don't i look good enough for a quick, easy muggin'? Maybe i'm tryin' to hard? Yeah, tha' must be it. Whacked in th' head. Sould know better than t' go out this o' all days...

Gettin' dark, to. Well, all th' better, t' be miserable in. Right? Oh, yeah, you be right there, Johnny me boy. Some times yer jus' to fuckin' smart fer yer own good.

Interesting how sarcasm is still relatively effective when ye use it on yerself. 'Course, carryin' on a conversation wi' yerself can't be a really healthy sign, neither. Hmmm...

***

Right. Charmin' neighborhood. Ripe for urban renewal. Like wi' a wreckin' ball.

Surely.

Nameless suburbia. The unknow sprawl. Yeah, people live here. After a fashion, i think, lookin' round more critical, like. Once a geer, always a geer. Give me a beer... Heh...

'Tis th' sort o' place where a person gets themselves murder'd on th' front steps o' their walk-up, in a loud an' unmistakable manner, an Danny Harmon's boys wouldn't be able t' find a single witness, nor a person who knew the oh so recently deceased.

Good place t' get lost.

In a sick, twisted way, i like it.

Old fool.

Somewhere down th' alley up ahead comes th' sound o' a breakin' board. I keep walkin'. Trash can goin' over. None o' yer business, Johnny. Come on, get into th' spirit o' th' neighborhood. Ignore it all... Hear a few catcalls and shouts. When Dan asks, John, did you see anything, i can say, "Didn't see nothin', Lieutenant Dan." Fuck...sound like Forest fuckin' Gump. Hated that movie... Feet slappin' pavement now. Lot o' them. Sounds like a right ol' chase. Social predation.

Guess i'll lean against this here post an' find out what gang or th' other's huntin' what prey or th' other on this dead-sky night. I wrap th' cloak tightly 'round me and make like a shadow. Not hard.

A single figure comes stumblin' out from 'round a buildin' an crosses th' alley. Long brown hair. Ripped jacket. Calf high boots. Woman. Not doin' too well, by th' sound o' things. Wrong place. Wrong time, looks like.

She stops for a momment. Heaves in a couple gasps o' stagnant air. Tries to assess her options. She's got three directions to chose from. She looks my way.

Oh. Shit.

Annie...

No. No. No. Not Annie. Too young. Too fuckin' young, Johnny. Get a grip. Ye burried Her. Ye got her killed, then ye burried Her. But...this girl's got th' same eyes.

A male voice shouts out. Primal call. Th' pack's closin' fast.

Th' girl moans once, then runs straight cross th' alley. Between another couple buildings.

Of all th' nights... Old Dog, yer a fool. Should ha' learned by now just t' stay indoors on this o' all days.

Get it together. Dammit.

Th' first o' th' gangers, as it would seem, jumps into th' alley. Four more follow him. Somethin' metal crashes across th' way an' they snap t' attention.

"Got her! Dance her bones now!" chortles one o' them, swingin' what looks to be a tire iron 'round his 'ead.

"Big time wriggly! She dead ended. Lit!"

"Shut holes, 'poles," snaps one of them who's wearin' newish lookin' leather. He cuffs another o' th' gangers in th' back o' th' head an pushes him after th' girl. Got some Amerind in him. Looks like a couple o' th' others, too."First jive to catch her. Then we get skoodles predacious."

Lean an' mean. That's th' way th' street breeds 'em. Tough little bastards, "lit", as th' one o' them said.

I uncurl from against th' post. Well. That's life in th' city... Some live, some die.

I head off in th' opposite direction, back th' way i came, actually.

Behind me glass breaks and a high pitched voice screams.

Nobody ever said evolution was fair t' th' individual.

But she looks so much like Annie...

Fuck it...

***

"Hey, Sugarpop... Outta flyway," says Gink.

"Take an extra toll for makin' me tear treads so hard," growls Jammer in agreement, slapping the tire iron against the palm of his left hand.

"No. No," begs Leena, backed up against the wall, her eyes darting frantically around the dead end that she ran into. "Look, i, i didn't know i was in your area, ok, ok." Oh shitshitshit. Why me God? Leena wants to shout. "I'll give you my money and cards. You just let me go, ok?"

"Oh, we'll take your shingle, Twin Peaks Sweet Meats," drawls Spear as he pushes past Gink and Jammer to stand in front of the girl, cowering away from him. She's clutching some keys in her hand, he notices. Heh. Spunky slot. Fix her good... Spear shakes his head, making his friz coif dance around. His new leathers creak. Sounds spiff, he thinks. Like a leaderman should, neh? "But your shingle just isn't going to be enough, oh no." Oh man, i'm enjoying this, thinks Spear. My turn. Old Short Time always used to be center stage. Yeah. My turn now. Now that i'm in charge. Should have done Short Time in long time before i did, he muses briefly, as he drinks in the girl's terror. "I'm thinking you've got some tres pink in your Vi's."

"No..." moans Leena, moving sideways, feeling along the wall. Looking for anything to use as a weapon. Maybe i can get in at least one good hit with the keys. Get Leathers there and make it by the others...

"Oh, yeah, Twin Meets Sweet Peaks. I'm going to peel you good and make you like it. Leave you begging for more. And," exclaims Spear brightly, "you'll be in luck, because there's four more of the Paths to peel you after i'm through with you."

"Heh. I don't think so," says a strange voice from behind.

***

"I think you're all goin' walk out o' here an' find some dark pit t' jack your own flags," i say as i walk into the dead end courtyard formed by a weirdly shaped tenament building an' some sort of corrugated metal storage garage.

"Hey, Grump, you just made a big mistake messing with the Pathologists," shouts a ganger who has "Whitefish" scrawled across the front of his denim jacket in black marker. His voice is a high pitched drone.

"Yeah," snarls the ganger who first spoke earlier, moving to the side to flank me. "Dance your bones first, then little miss Peelbait gets hers."

Looks like th' evenin' isn't going to be a complete loss after all... You see, when you stop trying so hard it all works out... Sick, old Dog, sick...

"That wha' you say, too, Leaderman," i ask Leathers, the amerindian with th' friz haircut, as i step closer towards them. My greatcloak unfolds itself from around me. Ripples, tentatively, outwards. Hungry-like.

Leathers looks at me shrewdly for a couple momments. Huh. Some potential in this one. Maybe.

"Yeah, that's what i say."

"Uh...hey, Spear, you sure, man?" whines the littlest of the gangers off to the right. "I mean, he's pretty big...and he seems into it."

"Shut hole, Weed!" shouts Spear. "Don't know why Short Time didn't fuckin' spike you out long time ago..."

The one with th' tire iron suddenly launches himself at me. Huh!

Step towards him...
Interesting.
Left arm snaps up...
Was that tactic or accident, the argument
Me forearm connects wi' th' ganger's wrist, rather than th' tire iron...
between Weed an' Spear. If planned as a
Cloak snaps around the ganger's arm, tangles with th' iron...
diversion it suggests these pups are better social predators
Pivot in closer to get me right leg behind th' ganger's...
Than i would have
I slam into him wi' me right 'and an' he goes backwards, across me leg...
expected. I may have t' re-evaluate me opinion o' th' level o' development these
I drop down o'er th' ganger, me great cloak spreadin' out around us like great, black wings, hidin' us from sight...
gutter snipes have achieved.
I grip, then twist in opposite directions with my hands...
Interestin'.
Muffled as it is by th' cloak, an audible SNAP is clearly discernable...
"Ahhhghhhhhhh!"

Elapsed time, one and a quarter seconds...thereabouts.

Planting me right boot i thrust up, launching meself towards th' girl, leaving the ganger writhin' on th' ground behind me. A nice distraction, i do say so.

Spear swings backhand at me, an' i grunt in pain as he catch me a good one on th' right shoulder as i leap past 'im.

So i don't complete the move very gracefully an' stagger upright. Sue me...

"Try t' stay behind me, lass," I say to the girl. Don't look at her. Don't think o' Her.

Leena, says Dog. Her name is Leena.

Not now, old Hound. Don't distract me...

"I might have t' move sudden-like, so don't be crowdin' me, either," i add still not looking at...Leena, surveying th' four upright Paths instead. Not very good odds, really, considerin' that i've got someone t' guard besides meself.

Leena just makes a funny sound, sort of from th' back o' her throat, sounds like.

The one ganger's still rollin' around, clutching his right arm in his left hand. Jagged bone projects between his red fingers.

"Now," i say to Spear, "Why don't we be tryin' this again. I think ye should be leavin'. Don't you?"

Spear glances back at th' git on th' ground and at the rest of his mates. "Grump, you just won yourself a world of scuz," he growls as he reaches into the side pocket o' his jacket an' pulls out a snub nosed pistol.

Oh.
          Fuckin'.
                    Shit.

I left th' fuckin' U.S. of A. t' get away from this sort o' crap. Well, an' for a few other reasons...

He's ten feet away. This is definitely not good.

I sweep behind me with my left leg, knocking Leena to the ground as Spear shouts, "Suck this, mammyjammer!"

The three shots are snapped so close together that they sound practically like one.

The first two hit me square in th' chest, knockin' me back against th' wall. I manage t' stay up, over Leena, tryin' to shield her at least. The recoil of th' gun throws Spear's aim off slightly an' th' third shot smashes brick t' fragments next to me head."

Damn, that hurts!

I grunt in pain as i double over, trying to brace meself on me right arm, me left arm clutched across me chest. I concentrate on the pain. Ah...good. No, not really, but it serves as a focus...

Damn.

Old fool...

Slow, says Dog. You too slow. Too old?

Fuck off Mutt...

"Man, Spear gone berzerker, Gink," i hear Whitefish exclaim in admiration.

"Tres deadly," Gink agrees.

"Ahhh..." grunt as i exhale, leaning on my arm.

A few drops of blood trickle past my sleeve to the pavement.

Am i getting too old for this?

Ah! Feel the power! I burn!

Am i getting too old for this? Heh...not yet...

As i straighten up from me crouch me cloak slides across the ground. The drops of blood are sucked away, absorbed.

Spear's back is turned to me. He's basking in the admiration of his peers, no doubt.

"Hey!"

"What tha!"

Ah, looks like someone's noticed i'm not flatlined after all. Sorry, young Spear...have t' wait on all th' glory 'til ye actually do something successfully.

"How...?" i hear from behind me, from Leena.

I pull me left hand out from within me shirt and flip a little pebble o' lead towards th' gangers. It's still warmish. Save th' second one for later.

"Believe this belongs t' you." Never miss an opportunity t' leave th' opposition in confusion. Plus, th' looks on their faces are worth it.

General confusion reigns for a couple of momments.

"Chill, 'poles, Grump's just wearin' a vest!" Spear announces.

Great. Just what i need... Spear decidin' t' take th' next shot at me head. That would be...messy.

"Ah, right," i say mockin'ly. "How many people do ye know that wear high impact kevlar vests that'll stop a .38 slug from less than five meters?"

"Cops..."

"Do i look like a cop? Noooo...

"Let's burn, Spear," whines Weed.

"Chill, mammypanzy! I'll just plug him in the head. No vest there." Sometimes i just hate smart kids...

"Yeah, sure. Be goin' right ahead, lad," i drawl out. "Wont make no difference. I'll jus' dig those bullets out o' me skull like i pulled tha' one out o' me chest. Actually, i lied...there will be just one difference. I'll be pissed off at tha' point. Then i'll kill every one o' ye nice an' slow, just fer th' hell o' it!"

Whitesnake takes a couple steps back, makin' some sort o' weird hand passes in front o' him. Religious ganger?

Time for th' follow-up.

"Here...let me return th' second bullet to ye," i say quietly taking a step closer to th' gangers. Spear snaps his gun up. Lookin' threatenin' for me, or for his gang? Losin' face is bad ju-ju...

I clear my throat loudly, as if dredging up a load o' crap from me lungs. I hack somethin' up, then spit at the ground infront o' Spear. The second flattened bullet goes "splotch" in a blob of spittle an' blood.

Yech...

Th' Paths just stare at it for a moment, then look back at me, grinnin' evil-like at 'em all.

"Amazin' what you can do when ye sell yer soul off to a deamon lord," i say softly, staring hard at Whitefish.

That does it. Whitefish breaks and runs. Weed is close on his heels. Gink jerks the ganger whose arm i broke to his feet and starts edgin' backwards.

"Yeah...ok, ok, Grump. Fine. You take the skirt. Not worth nothing to me anyway," mutters Spear, as he too backs away. Trying to keep a little of that bravado. Not easy t' do in a situation like this.

"Tres, Spear," i say sarcasticly. "Been wriggly."

Spear steps out of the courtyard and vanishes back down the alley.

I drag meself back to where Leena is at the wall. She's up and standing now.

"Damn old fool," i mutter to myself as, with a grunt and a wince of pain i drop down to the ground and lean back against th' wall.

I open me eyes to find Leena crouched next to me with a rather worried expression on her face. Annie's face. Sort of. Seeing it up close like this i can tell it's not Her. But the eyes...and the hair. Easy to see how Leena reminded me of Annie.

'Course, on today th' Lock Ness Monster probably would 'ave looked like Annie...

Old fool...

Did good, says Dog.

Yeah, yeah...damn subconscious...

"Allow me to introduce meself, miss. Me name is John Stewart. At your service."

"I...I... Thank you doesn't really seem to cover it, does it?" Leena says with a funny little smile.

"Oh, i don't know," i say with a bit of a grimace of pain, "actually i think it does. Just tell me one thing. Why by all th' gods were ye wanderin' around out here?"

"My car broke down. I was trying to find a phone and then..." Leena stiffles back a sniffle.

"Ah, there, there, lass, 'tis all right now," i say, puttin' a hand on her shoulder. "Nothin' me tailor can't fix, i joke, indicating th' new holes in me shirt in an attempt to elicit a smile.

Actually, i get a puzzled expression.

"How *did* you do that? Oh my God! You didn't actually dig that bullet out of yourself, did you? We've got to get you to a hospital, or something!"

"Calm down. Of course i didn't. I've known marines' who've done some pretty nasty battlefield self-surgery, but i'm an engineer by profession. Internal self-exploratory surgery isn't me bag at all."

"So...how did you..."

"Kevlar vest."

"But you said..."

"Yeah, i know. And, generally speakin', you won't find people in Vancouver wearin' bullet proof vests around town. But i recently moved up here from California, where bullets fly around pretty much like rain does here. Also, i had a contract as a civilian consultant with the UN mission in Bosnia. Nasty. Let's just say i haven't yet quite adjusted to th' idea that people i don't know aren't going to shoot at me in a spontaneous act of agression."

"Fortunately for you, apparently."

"Yeah. Here, give me a hand up," i ask Leena. "Me adrenalin high is crashin', and even with th' vest, i'm goin' to have some wicked blunt impact trauma t' deal with. Ah, thank you, lass," i say as she helps me upright. "Let's get you out of here and back to where ever it is you belong," i add as we leave the courtyard.

"But...if you were wearing a bullet proof vest, how did you cough up that bullet?"

"What, ye want me t' give away all me secrets? Oh, all right. Got th' idea from some film or other i saw 'bout vampires. Ah, yes, called "Near Dark". One o' them gets shot in th' chest an coughs up th' bullet. Put th' scare into th' good guys. When i was doubled o'er i peeled both bullets off th' vest an put one in me mouth. Nice trick. 'Course, if it hadn't worked...well, no sense thinkin' 'bout that. Where's yer car?"

"Uhm...i don't really know, now."

"Ok, ne'er mind. Worry 'bout that later," i say as i reach into a pouch on me belt and pull out me cell phone. "First thing is to get us a taxi. I've got a friend on th' metro police force. I'll see if i can get him t' do something about your car."

What a night...