Another ice storm crippled the city and the clouds kept the light dim while the wind churned the ends of the trees until minute shards would fall into shattering landings against curbs and sidewalks. Quill had called Hatchet at noon for a ride across town but it took him an hour of sliding and defensive driving to find the address. A failed chain link fence, a gnarled relic of the war against an expanding slum, surrounded the dark boarded over building. Lampblack shadows crowned all the third floor windows down one side and the brick façade threatened to tumble into the unknown. By now, the slum had even retreated from this pocket the city. Most of the old structures were gone, leaving barren lots filled with rubble and broken furniture. Only an ancient and precarious grain elevator, this place and the sounds of trains existed here.
Quill emerged in his uniform leather jacket and black jeans so tight that the seams unraveled in gaps at his ankles and hips, so dirty they shined. Got any electricity in there? Naw, not nomore. Want some? you need it. I could charge my phone? Yeah; what are you doin for heat? I got a bag. A good one? It’s a bag. I’ve got an extra one you can have; it’s a good one.
The plasma center? Hatchet said when he pulled into the parking lot. Yeah, dude, thanks for the ride. This is what you’re doing to feed yourself? Hatchet hadn’t parked but was rolling through the lot, making inventory of the different groups of people standing in the cold smoking cigarettes. Naw, Quill said, I walk checks to feed myself; this is my first time to do this; you can just drop me off, Hatchet, they say the first day takes a while. What have you been doing for money, Quill? I sold a bunch of stuff, a TV, a pool table, a motorcycle. A pool table and a motorcycle? where in the fuck did you get a pool table and a motorcycle? where the fuck were you keeping them? Then Hatchet remembered. He took care of everything, didn’t he, Teague I mean? Yeah, dude.
Hatchet found an exit and pulled away with Quill looking over his shoulder at the bright pulsing clouds of cigarette smoke and steamy breath. You ever had to deal with your own money, Quill? My own money? You work for me now. Hatchet wrestled his wallet from his pocket and drove with it against the wheel as he counted out the bills. Here, he extended the $100 at him, we’ll see what happens to this. Thanks, Hatchet, but what kinda work do you do? I’ll think of sumthin. Marcus paid for a month at the downtown Marriot and told Quill to shower and hit the dollar store on the corner for some clothes. When do we start? Just chill for the night; I’ll call you in the morning. Chill? Yeah, stay outta the bars tonight. Hatchet, I’ll go bonkers in here, dude. Hatchet grabbed the TV remote. Something educational? Hatchet said. His on-demand choices were Of Mice and Men and Killing Zoe. Jesus. What’s wrong, Hatchet? Nothing, here, watch Killing Zoe, watch it twice.
Hatchet slapped the remote against Quill’s chest and looked at him, his dumb cocked head staring back. He could see the wheels had finally turned far enough that Quill had a vague understanding of what was happening. Can I trust you? I aint never ratted on nobody, Hatchet. Can you keep your cool? I wanna help. I have to be able to trust you, Quill. Hatchet, you and me, we can get em. Look, this has nothing to do with Clancey; you have to forget about Clancey; that fool will get his eventually, you got it? Yeah. I’m fucking serious, man, you have to do exactly as I say. I can do that. I’m not fucking around, man; if you don’t do exactly what I tell you, this will get us both in deep shit; think of the deepest shit you can imagine and it’ll be worse than that if you don’t do exactly what I tell you. I do what I’m told, dude, and I won’t rat on you Hatchet; I aint never ratted on nobody.
Quill emerged in his uniform leather jacket and black jeans so tight that the seams unraveled in gaps at his ankles and hips, so dirty they shined. Got any electricity in there? Naw, not nomore. Want some? you need it. I could charge my phone? Yeah; what are you doin for heat? I got a bag. A good one? It’s a bag. I’ve got an extra one you can have; it’s a good one.
The plasma center? Hatchet said when he pulled into the parking lot. Yeah, dude, thanks for the ride. This is what you’re doing to feed yourself? Hatchet hadn’t parked but was rolling through the lot, making inventory of the different groups of people standing in the cold smoking cigarettes. Naw, Quill said, I walk checks to feed myself; this is my first time to do this; you can just drop me off, Hatchet, they say the first day takes a while. What have you been doing for money, Quill? I sold a bunch of stuff, a TV, a pool table, a motorcycle. A pool table and a motorcycle? where in the fuck did you get a pool table and a motorcycle? where the fuck were you keeping them? Then Hatchet remembered. He took care of everything, didn’t he, Teague I mean? Yeah, dude.
Hatchet found an exit and pulled away with Quill looking over his shoulder at the bright pulsing clouds of cigarette smoke and steamy breath. You ever had to deal with your own money, Quill? My own money? You work for me now. Hatchet wrestled his wallet from his pocket and drove with it against the wheel as he counted out the bills. Here, he extended the $100 at him, we’ll see what happens to this. Thanks, Hatchet, but what kinda work do you do? I’ll think of sumthin. Marcus paid for a month at the downtown Marriot and told Quill to shower and hit the dollar store on the corner for some clothes. When do we start? Just chill for the night; I’ll call you in the morning. Chill? Yeah, stay outta the bars tonight. Hatchet, I’ll go bonkers in here, dude. Hatchet grabbed the TV remote. Something educational? Hatchet said. His on-demand choices were Of Mice and Men and Killing Zoe. Jesus. What’s wrong, Hatchet? Nothing, here, watch Killing Zoe, watch it twice.
Hatchet slapped the remote against Quill’s chest and looked at him, his dumb cocked head staring back. He could see the wheels had finally turned far enough that Quill had a vague understanding of what was happening. Can I trust you? I aint never ratted on nobody, Hatchet. Can you keep your cool? I wanna help. I have to be able to trust you, Quill. Hatchet, you and me, we can get em. Look, this has nothing to do with Clancey; you have to forget about Clancey; that fool will get his eventually, you got it? Yeah. I’m fucking serious, man, you have to do exactly as I say. I can do that. I’m not fucking around, man; if you don’t do exactly what I tell you, this will get us both in deep shit; think of the deepest shit you can imagine and it’ll be worse than that if you don’t do exactly what I tell you. I do what I’m told, dude, and I won’t rat on you Hatchet; I aint never ratted on nobody.
Edit 12.31.2018