Underground

“Hey Q. Miss Thing.” I guessed he was feeling a little more sociable than last time but hadn’t quite forgiven me for apparently accusing him of lying.

“Hi, Tanker,” I said and held out the packet of leftovers. “Mind if I give this to Bella?”

He eyed the wrapper. “What is it?”

I peeked into the wrapper. “Its a… meatloaf sandwich.” I’d forgotten about Quinton’s unfinished lunch—he’d switched packages on me.

Tanker laughed. “Damn, woman, you go

“She’s a good dog. She won’t spoil. Can she have it?”

He waved a casual hand at the dog who was looking in every direction, trying to figure out who she should be paying most attention to. “Sure. Go ahead. She don’t like to eat out of hands, though. Gotta put it down in front of her.”

“OK,” I said, crouching down near the dog with a creak from my knee as Quinton stood up and moved closer to Tanker, pulling out the leftover burger and offering that to the man, getting back into his good graces.

“Hey there, Bella,” I murmured. “Got a treat—I think.” I’d never had a dog as a kid and as an adult I’d never had a lifestyle that lent itself to the kind of care dogs need. I took my neighbor’s pit bull for walks once in a while, but that was about the extent of my dog contact. I was just a little nervous of Bella’s powerful jaws as I put the opened wrapper down on the brick alley floor in front of her. The dog licked her lips and wiggled, looking at the food, but didn’t move to snap it up.

“It’s OK, Bella, eat,” Tanker said, eyeing his own leftovers.

The dog let out a happy yip and dove in on the food. I scratched her ears as she ate and I listened to Tanker and Quinton talk.

“Tank, I’m kind of worried. Do you remember when Tandy disappeared?”

“Why’d you be worried about that old drunk?” Tanker asked around a mouthful of burger.

“Just bothered. I mean… bad shits been happening, and I think I haven’t seen Tandy since before it started.”

“Man, Tandy ain’t smart enough to do nothing but raise a bottle.”

“Not much, I agree, but have you seen him—or Bear or Jolene?”

Tanker swallowed a bite of burger. “Hmph! I think I saw Bear a while back before Christmas. Jolene I don’t know—she don’t stand out much. And I don’t give a crap in a paper bag about Tandy. Him and Lass drink together all the time. You should ask that peckerhead where his friend is, ‘cause I don’t know and I don’t care. He could fall down a sewer and drown in shit and I couldn’t care any less than I do.”

Quinton nodded as Bella finished off her sandwich with a joyful smacking of her jaws, her master only a few bites behind on his own food.

“Huh,” Quinton grunted. “I wonder if something could have happened to them. You think anyone would hurt one of them?”

“Everybody likes Bear and Jolene! And nobody give enough of a damn about Tandy to do him hurt. I don’t know why anybody’d kill poor ol’ Je

Bella felt I needed my face washed with meatloaf-scented doggy tongue.

“Bella, off,” Tanker said. “Don’t go slobbering all over the lady.” Apparently the food had bought some goodwill from the owner as well as the dog.

Bella stopped licking me and gave me a half-apologetic look with her tongue hanging out one side of her mouth.

“That’s all right,” I said, getting back to my feet after a final scratch behind the dog’s ears. “She’s a nice dog.”

“I trained her myself,” Tanker said with pride.

“You did a good job.”

“Dogs like to know who’s boss, else they get in trouble. But if you’re a good boss, they’ll do anything for you. Anything. I swear, I’m go

Quinton patted Tanker on the shoulder. “Bella’d get a stomachache from Lass. Better not let her get a good bite.”

Tanker snorted. “Keeping away from him, for sure.”

Quinton nodded. “You seen Sandy tonight?”

Tanker scratched his head through his hood. “Yeah… Round on Second Ave. Extension by the Quick Mart. She might have gone back to the park, though—it was getting cold and I think she was watching someone.”

“We’ll find her. Thanks, Tank.”

“Yeah. You the same.” Tanker nodded at us awkwardly and clucked at Bella, “C’mon, girl.” We walked back out of the alley as he continued deeper into it.

We slunk around to Occidental Park, staying out of the sight lines to my office building. Quinton pointed at the bear totem.

“John Bear used to like to sleep under that. That’s what Blue Jay meant when he talked about Bear sleeping with the bears. You can see there’s no one sleeping under it now.”

Just beyond the totem, a trash can fire burned to warm the hands of a small circle of homeless. The obese woman at the foot of the other carving scowled at us as we passed and pressed herself into the dark. I couldn’t see much of her in either the Grey or the normal, cowering as she did in the black fold of the totems shadow. It occurred to me it wasn’t a nice totem—Nightmare Bringer. I wasn’t too surprised it cast a very dark shadow and I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to sleep near it with such an association. The woman pulled a black blanket over herself and hunched into a shapeless mass.

We walked on down to the burning trash can and found Zip, Sandy, and the man I often saw pacing and talking to himself. We were offered cigarettes by Zip and drinks from an unseen bottle in a paper bag. Sandy nodded and the talking man told us the voice of the turtle would be heard in the land.

“God, Twitcher. In’t no turtles here ‘bouts,” Zip complained. “In’t likely to be talking noways.”

“Even the End of Days must have an end,” Twitcher replied.

“I think that’s supposed to be the Final Judgment,” Sandy said. “I don’t think we’ve quite got to that yet.”

“Aren’t the dead supposed to rise up and be counted or something?” Twitcher asked.

“Yes,” Sandy replied uneasily, giving him a sideways glance.

“Ah. Then I guess it’s not time after all, or the streets would be full of ‘em.”

Twitcher nodded to himself and settled into nervous jiggling from foot to foot and flapping his arms.

“Perhaps,” Sandy said.

“Hey’m, Harper,” Zip said. A waft of beer and rotting teeth made me turn a little away as I answered.

“Hey, Zip.” I put myself closer to Sandy and upwind of the incredible stench Zip had acquired.

“Hows your case?” Sandy inquired.

“Could be better. How’s yours?”

“Gone to ground for a while I think. Lost him earlier today. Hope to pick up his trail later tonight, maybe tomorrow. What brings you here?”

“Trying to find out who was down by the hotel construction in the last few months.”

“We’ve all been down around the hole,” Sandy said, but she had a thoughtful frown on her face.

“Yeah,” Zip added. “Sometimes t’ey got wood scraps we kin winkle out. Lockin’ up t’garbage since that leg were found, though.”

Quinton poked Twitcher in the ribs. “Hey, Twitcher. You know anyone’s been down there, or who had a mad on for any of the lost?”

“Not to mention all of them,” Twitcher replied. I noticed that he stopped jiggling if he was talking or doing something, but when he had nothing to say, he twitched. His spasms were less controlled when he tried to stand still and I realized he walked and muttered to keep some control over his body’s incessant movement.

“Try that again,” Quinton requested. “Are you saying every one of them was someone someone else wanted to hurt? Who?”