No Dominion

– Pull over.

– Know what that is?

– A park.

The Hummer is pulled over on Morningside Avenue at 123rd.

– Look like a park, don’t it?

– Yeah.

– But it ain’t. That a outpost. That a Coalition outpost.

The park is overgrown and abused. Dirty snow from our last big storm is dotted with unclaimed dog crap.

Digga points.

– Look.

I look. He’s pointing at the paths that climb up the park, climb up a cliff face like the one that backs Jackie Robinson. But it’s different here. At The Jack, the cliff is native stone, raw and worn from when it was first cut. Here, the heights of the park are defined by a massive barrier. Huge blocks of dark stone are masoned into a wall topped by an iron fence. Two paths cut back and forth across the park, climbing to two great staircases, one at either end of the park.

– See what they got up there?

Morningside Drive runs atop the wall, lined with luxury apartment buildings and a tower of Columbia student housing.

– That was part of the treaty Luther made when we got independence. Had to leave them this turf. They settlement. They Gaza Strip. They presence up here so no one forget this was all theirs once. All those sweet blocks around Columbia, that still Coalition turf. That where it comin’ from.

– What’s that?

– That shit. That poison they pumpin’ into our blood. That shit you say croppin’ up downtown, too. You think that a coincidence? Some dangerous-ass new drug, only drug can get a Vampyre hooked, just happenin’ to drop on Society an’ Hood turf? That sound likely to you, Pitt? Or it sound like a conspiracy?

I look behind us to the east, where the sun will soon be rising.

Digga grabs my face and turns it back toward the park.

– Don’t you be worryin’ ’bout that sun. It rise all on its own. This what you came up here for, ain’t it? This what Bird sent you to look into?

– Nobody sent me. I’m here on my own.

– Uh-huh. Up here investigatin’ this shit cuz you got a social conscience.

– I care about the little people.

– Uh-huh. A’ight. That good to know. Mean you won’t mind doing a little service for yo black bruthas and sistas. Let’s stretch our legs.

Timberlands and the rhinos stay by the Hummer while Digga leads me to a bench.

– Percy talk to you?

– He said some things.

– He one alchemical niggah.

– If you say so.

– Trust me on that, he is. So, you got a little picture ’bout the political climate up here?

– Volatile.

– Volatile. You got some words on you, son. Yeah, volatile. Right now, it more volatile than usual. That because of you. Word out you on the loose. I put that word out. While you rappin’ with Percy, I been talkin’ with Papa Doc, tellin’ him how you busted out. Now he say you a Society agent. Cross Coalition territory without no passage, come up here with an enforcer on yo ass; do all that to create friction when he be wantin’ ta make peace with our neighbors to the south. Wants to call Dexter Predo, tell him we got nothin’ to do with somethin’ nasty happened to his man. Wants to call Terry Bird, tell him we want compensation for the trouble you cause us. Whatever you up here for, Predo and Bird? Neither them muthafuckas go

He looks at the sky.

– ’Course, soon enough they go

– Any ideas?

He turns his face to the heights above us.

– Go up there.

I look up at the old, well maintained buildings illuminated by ornamental street lamps and security lights.

– You go on up there where the white folk live.

– And when I’m up there?

– See if you can’t get taken in. Them settlers got people watch that border all the time. They spot you, probably got yo picture in a face-book. Go

– Then what?

He faces me, lays his arm along the bench behind my shoulders.

– Get me some fuckin’ proof they sendin’ that shit down here. Find it. Bring it out. Do that? I fix all this other shit. Get me proof and I put Papa where he belongs. And I put you on yo way back home. Don’t say boo to Predo or Bird ’bout shit.

– Or?

He takes his arm away.

– You goin’ up that hill, Pitt. We go

I take a look at Timberlands and the rhinos. They’re not far enough away for me to kill Digga before they can get to me. I think about what Percy said about propositions. Guess this is what he meant. Nice of him to give me a heads up. Sort of.

– Being awfully generous with me, Digga. Why’s that?

He shrugs.

– Different reasons. Mostly, you white. Need a white boy ta go up there. Other than that, Chubby Freeze vouch for you.

– Yeah, imagine my situation if he hadn’t.

Digga laughs.

– That no lie, muthafucka. That no lie.

He stops laughing.

– So what it go

I look at the sky again. Getting lighter with every minute.

– Well, like you say, I’m going up that hill. Once I’m up there, we’ll just have to see what happens.

– That right, we will see what happen.

He stands up and heads for the Hummer. I follow him.

– Say. One thing.

He has the door open.

– What that?

I point at Timberlands.

– Suppose I could get my jacket back?

Digga creases his forehead.

– Doan ask me, it his jacket now.

I look at Timberlands.

He looks at me.

– Fuck off, it my jacket now.

– Uh-huh.

I look at Digga.

– How ’bout my gun and my knife?

Digga looks at me, looks up the hill, looks at Timberlands.

– Man should not go unstrapped.

Timberlands shrugs. He hands me my switchblade and I slip it in my back pocket.

– My piece?

He takes the.32 out of my jacket’s pocket. He weighs it in his hand.

– Gat a piece a shit anyways.

He hands it to me. I take it from him and stick the barrel in his mouth.

– Suppose I could have my jacket back?

The rhinos take a step. Timberlands stays where he is, but his eyes go to Digga.

Digga shakes his head.

– Me, I’d give him the jacket, niggah.

Timberlands takes off my jacket, carefully. He holds it out. I take it, remove the barrel of the.32 from his mouth and wipe it on the front of his shirt. He and the rhinos close in.

Digga holds up his hand.

– Uh-uh, no time now. Sun go

The rhinos get in the Hummer. Timberlands walks around to the driver’s side.

– Go