It wasn’t long before he heard the door to the barn creak open followed by the sound of muffled voices. Footsteps sounded on the plank flooring.
Then there was a crash as something was overturned. Jack heard curses.
Then another crash.
“You got your machine pistol cocked?” one husky voice said.
“What’d you think I am, stupid?” another replied.
Jack heard footsteps approach. He held his breath, tried to contain his shivering, and fought the urge to cough. There was a pause, then the footsteps receded. Jack allowed himself to breathe out.
“Somebody’s in here, I’m sure of it,” a voice said.
“Shut up and keep looking,” the other answered.
Without warning the cover to Jack’s hiding place was whisked open.
It happened with such unexpected suddenness, Jack was totally unprepared. He let out a muffled screech. The black man looking down at him did the same, letting the lid slam back into place.
The lid was quickly yanked open again. Jack could see that the man was holding a machine pistol in his free hand. On his head was a black knit cap.
Jack and the black man locked eyes for a moment, then the man looked toward his partner.
“It’s the doc all right,” he called out. “He’s here in a box.”
Jack was afraid to move. He heard footsteps approaching. He tried to prepare himself for Twin’s mocking smile. But Jack’s expectations weren’t met. When he looked up, it wasn’t Twin’s face he saw; it was Warren’s!
“Shit, Doc,” Warren said. “You look like you fought the Vietnam War all by yourself.”
Jack swallowed. He looked at the other man and now recognized him as one of the basketball regulars. Jack’s eyes darted back to Warren. Jack was confused, afraid this was all a hallucination.
“Come on, Doc,” Warren said, reaching a hand toward Jack. “Get the hell out of the box so we can see if the rest of you looks as bad as your face.”
Jack allowed himself to be helped to stand up. He stepped out onto the floor. He was soaking wet from the broken water pipes.
“Well, everything else looks like it’s in working order,” Warren said.
“But you don’t smell great. And we’ve got to get these cuffs off.”
“How did you get here?” Jack asked, finally finding his voice.
“We drove,” Warren said. “How’d you think we got here? The subway?”
“But I expected the Black Kings,” Jack said. “A guy by the name of Twin.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, man,” Warren said. “You’ve got to settle for me.”
“I don’t understand,” Jack said.
“Twin and I made a deal,” Warren said. “We called a truce so there’d be no more brothers shooting brothers. Part of the terms were that they wouldn’t ice you. Then Twin called me and told me you were being held up here and that if I wanted to save your ass, I’d better get mine up to the mountains. So here we are: the cavalry.”
“Good Lord!” Jack said, shaking his head. It was unsettling to learn how much one’s fate was in the hands of others.
“Hey, those people back in the house don’t look so good,” Warren said.
“And they smell worse than you. How’d they happen to die?”
Influenza, Jack said.
“No shit!” Warren said. “So it’s up here too. I heard about it on the news last night. There’s a lot of people down in the city all revved up about it.”
“And for good reason,” Jack said. “I think you’d better tell me what you’ve heard.”
Epilogue
* * *
THURSDAY, 7:45 P.M., APRIL 25, 1996
NEW YORK CITY
The game to eleven was tied at ten apiece. The rules dictated a win by two, so a one-point lay-up wouldn’t clinch it but a long two-pointer would.
This was in the back of Jack’s mind as he dribbled upcourt. He was being mercilessly hounded by an aggressive player by the name of Flash whom Jack knew was faster than he.
The competition was fierce. Players on the sidelines waiting to play were loudly supporting the other team, a sharp contrast to their typical studied indifference. The reason for the change was the fact that Jack’s team had been winning all night, mainly because Jack was teamed up with a particularly good mix of players that included Warren and Spit.