Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis (55 page)

“Yo, where’s Etan?” Cory emerged from a sunken stairwell on the sidewalk, as calm as if he owned the basement apartment. He paused at the top, a red glowing dot brightened in front of his face for an instant before he entered the alley through a cloud of cigarette smoke. “He was supposed to be here.”

Everyone tensed at his sudden appearance; a few knives got put away when they realized who it was. Natalie shivered. Cory had a deep voice that sounded ten years older than he looked, the kind of voice they use to sell stuff on TV. He took another drag, laughing the smoke into a cloud. The collar of his long, dark coat flapped up against the back of his neck in the breeze; his eyes stood out against his dark face. He was either going for Wall Street or Blade.

“He’s in fuckin’ Jersey, trying to score some rocks. We need a cash infusion.” Kevin tapped his fingers on his arm as if prepping a vein.

Natalie flattened against the wall, heart pounding. She looked at Kevin, at his shitty impersonation of
The Crow
with spiked hair. Jason had the face paint too, but he skipped the overdone bit around the eyes. Cory frightened her more; he never liked her, too young, too white, too Jewish.

Jason pressed her into the cold brick, kissing. The smell of his makeup teased her anxiety into full-blown nausea.

Neck, cheek, lips. Hand on her shoulder, down her side.

She stood stiff as a mannequin, palms flat against cold stone.

“What’s wrong with you, Nat? You need some E? Relax, girl. It’s not like Rosario’s gonna call the police coz we hit his stash.”

Everyone laughed.

“No… If my mo―” A loud wooden bang from the street made her jump. She buried her face in Jason’s chest, trembling.

“Jay, man. You don’t got the green, man. That scrawny little JAP can smell your poverty.”

Natalie gave Cory the finger. “Fuck you,
Blade
.”

Her trembling lofted audible in her voice. Again, the group laughed.

“No thanks,” said Cory. “If I’m gonna bite on jailbait, it’s gonna have a shape. Ain’t suckin’ on four-to-ten for some flat-ass white bitch that thinks she’s street.” He whirled on Kevin, pointing two fingers. “No tits, no ass… shit, she wouldn’t know what to do with this monster.” He gestured at his crotch.

For an instant, she thought he went for a gun and gasped. Then she wanted to die of embarrassment.

Cory made a dismissive ‘pff’ sound, sidestepping. “Shit, man. Why the fuck you even bring her here? Bitch is gonna be nothin’ but trouble. She ain’t even real.”

Kevin leaned at him with a scowl. “You were a scared little punk ‘fore you stole that Brooks Brothers coat.” Cory glared. “Etan wants her to get her hands dirty. Gave her a choice of bendin’ over or pull a job, and she’s stiff as a rod. She ain’t wanna put out, she’s gotta do something serious.”

“You think I had to steal this?” Cory pulled at the lapels of his coat as he stepped up on Kevin. “None of you motherfuckers knows a damn thing about distribution.”

Natalie folded her arms and shivered into the wall, ignoring the continuing argument.
I’m no whore, I’m not gonna be another Traci. I’m not like Mother. I can do this. Just stealing drugs from a drug dealer, not like anyone’s gonna get hurt. Maybe they’ll respect me if I―

Jason ran a thumb over her bottom lip, no doubt removing a smudge of his black lipstick. “Relax, kid. No one’s home. We’ll be long gone before the cops even know what happened.”

Natalie met his gaze, calmed by the image of a gothic prince staring down at her. The look her mother would give her if she showed up with face paint and black lipstick would make just about anything worth it. All she had to do was find the nerve to actually
do
it. “Cops got me twice at the mall already, if this goes―”

“It won’t.” Jason winked. “Traci babysits for them, knows they’re out of town this week and right where they keep the shit. Dude’s got two pounds. Word is he’s the source for his whole damn brokerage.” Jason laughed. “And they got the money to get the
good
shit.”

Kevin stepped over and wadded her shirt into a fist, then lifted her on tiptoe. “Look, kid. This is big-girl time. You wanna go home to your mother, do it now before we get started.”

She punched him in the gut.

His lip curled into a grin. “Cute.”

Her boot scraped on glass as she shifted her weight.

“Any part of your leg comes within six inches of my junk, your face and that wall are gonna be good friends. We copacetic?”

Natalie glared. “Yeah… asshole.”

He let go; she stepped back and adjusted her shirt.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Jason got between them.

Kevin shifted his eyes. “Just a bad feeling. She won’t put out, won’t touch any shit, got trashed on two drinks, and almost coughed herself puking when she tried weed.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? She’s no cop.” Jason laughed. “She’s a kid.”

Natalie stepped up on Kevin. “Why do you think criminals always get caught? Coz they get fuckin’ high and then do stupid shit.”

“Cut her a break, she’s thirteen.” Jason pulled her back.

“Traci knew her way around a dick pretty good at that age,” said Ernesto, the grin of a fond memory on his face.

Corey made a dismissive wave. “Yeah, but that bitch from Jersey, not uptown like this J―”

“Something’s fucked.” The tip of Kevin’s finger hovered at her nose. “She’s just usin’ us to piss off mommy and daddy. She don’t wanna
be
here, just wants to be
seen
here.”

A boy leaning on the other wall stepped into the light. “Etan said it was time to―”

“Alright, everyone just shut up.” Kevin spun with enough force to flare his leather trenchcoat. He pointed at her again, then the street. “Since you’re still a
child
, you get the easy job.”

Natalie bristled. Indignation did little to trap the butterflies in her gut.

“Your skinny ass is goin’ through the window and lettin’ us in.”

“It’s clear,” said Lucas, from the street.

The others moved around front, leaving her and Jason alone in the dark.
I’m gonna throw up.
She shivered, huddled against the wall as he attacked a street-level window. The taste of freezer-burned meatballs and cheese came back. Natalie cringed each time his boot hit the glass, every crunch felt like it hit her in the stomach. Jason scraped his foot across the bottom to chase away the last of the shards and covered the lower edge with sheets of cardboard from the dumpster.

“You’re up, kid.”

Natalie wiped a line of bile from the corner of her mouth, and approached the window where she sank into a squat by the small opening. The butterflies got bigger as she peered into a half-basement full of dusty things covered in cloth. With one shaking hand on the cardboard, she slid her head through the gap and looked around. The floor waited about six feet down. It was dark, scary, and the opening was a tight squeeze, even for her.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Jason held her hand.

She peered into his eyes, closed hers halfway, and kissed him.
No.
“Y… Yeah.”

atalie crouched by the unsteady piece of cardboard, leaning her upper body through the gap. The floor was too far below. She backed out, turned, and stuck a foot through. Jason held her hands, and she let her weight dangle. Squirming, she wriggled backwards until gravity took her through the gap. A box of old computer parts made for a lousy landing, and she spilled over backwards. Pain shot up through both arms as her elbows and the back of her head hit the ground at the same time. She lay still as dancing lights sparkled above her. A moment later, she curled on her side moaning, both arms wrapped around her head.

“Ow…”

“You ok? You cut?”

When the room ceased flashing, she sat up. Shifting from side to side, she ran a hand along each leg to check her jeans. Aside from filthy with dust, there was only a small tear. “Yeah, just cracked my fucking head on the floor. Thanks for letting go, dick.”

“Uhh, sorry. I’m going out front with the others. Just find the door and let us in.”

Natalie stood up, looking around at a small basement. Shoplifting had been one thing―now she stood inside a house which did not belong to her. This was serious. This was juvenile hall. Boxes of old junk sat stacked atop some kind of game table, ping-pong, air hockey, whatever. She took a tentative step around the pile, making uneasy faces at a washer and dryer that looked older than she was. Exposed wood overhead had wires set off on tiny porcelain nubs caked with dust. She stopped breathing, terrified someone upstairs could hear it. Minutes passed without a sound.

Nobody is home. Come on, you can’t just stand here. You just broke into someone’s damn house.

She flicked her arms, pulling her sleeves down over her hands. Beyond the ancient appliances, a wooden stairway led up to a narrow door. Holding her hands over her face, she crept to the bottom and peered up at the speck of light coming through the keyhole. The sight of the door hit her as a reminder this was not her house; the urge to throw up flipped over in her gut. The police warned her once for shoplifting and arrested her twice after that. Fortunately, her father had some sway with the department and they were sympathetic.

“Next time, I’m gonna leave you there overnight… or longer,” screamed Mother, in the back of her mind.

Next time… If I get nailed here, I’ll do more than one day.

The night she was arrested had been terrifying enough when all the police did was take her home and yell at her.
At least they took the cuffs off before Mom saw them.
The idea of going to juvie almost left Hot Pockets on the stairs in front of her. It was too late to dwell on that, already standing in a stranger’s basement.
Come on, Nat. Who calls the cops to say someone stole their cocaine? Wait, some people
are
that stupid.
Swallowing hard, she eased her weight into the first step. One by one, she weathered the horrendous, loud creaks on her way to the ground floor.

Manipulating a brass doorknob with sleeve-covered hands frustrated her just short of the point of screaming. No way in hell was she going to touch anything.
They must be going crazy outside, wondering what the hell I’m doing in here.
She squeezed harder, the navy blue wool just slid over without grip. She grumbled.
I look like such a tool. Street punk in a Macy’s coat, really.
Natalie wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. Whining, she squeezed the knob between both hands, leaning her entire body around in a concerted effort to turn it.

When it opened, she stumbled through into a tiny kitchen. The scent of recent cooking wafted through the air, concentrated around dishes piled in the sink. She nudged the basement door closed with her boot and cringed as it clicked. Ignoring another door that led out to a cramped yard, she edged past a plain oval table toward the interior. As if tiptoeing over a minefield, she scrunched her shoulders and went through an archway into a dining room.

On the wall just inside, a blinking green light made her turn. The flashing came from a white box with a small LCD screen bearing the words ‘Fault 00C.’
That doesn’t look like a thermostat. Oh, shit! Shit… shit… shit…
From the back of the dining room, the front door was visible past a stairway along the right-side; most of the rest of this floor was open area divided by very wide arches, as if someone knocked out the wall between living and dining room and left a few inches of it just as a marker. As soon as she saw the exit, she sprinted for it. A throw rug on polished hardwood took her feet out from under her, and she rolled sidelong into a bookshelf.