Legacies

2.

Alicia walked toward Columbus Avenue, hunting a cab. Rush hour was over, lunchtime was still an hour or so off, and if Upper West Side traffic had a lull, this was it. A few shoppers were out, but they were walking. Not much business for cabs here right now.

She saw one speed by, but it was occupied. She jumped as it screeched to a halt behind a white car that had stopped in the middle of the street. The cabbie sat on his horn until the white car pulled away.

She smiled: the music of the city…

But the smile faded as she thought about what Jack had said.

I'll have to check out a few things before I decide…

She had a bad feeling Jack had already made up his mind, and he wasn't interested.

Damn. She'd been counting on him.

She'd have to look elsewhere for an arsonist. The Yellow Pages wouldn't do. Maybe she could get a line on one through the progenitors of her little charges at the Center—not exactly paragons of society—but she would have preferred Jack. He'd proved that he could deliver. And even if he was stringing her along a little now so he could let her down easy later, she trusted him.

She scanned the streets. No gray sedan. Good. As she reached Columbus Avenue, she saw a taxi round the next corner and start toward her. She raised her hand to flag it, then noticed its off duty sign was lit.

Come on! She wanted to make a quick stop at the hospital and take another look at Hector before she became mired in the Center.

She pulled her coat closer around her against the chill. Maybe she should try calling for a cab. She opened her shoulder bag and hunted through its jumbled contents. Half her life seemed to be in here. Not much money, but her stethoscope, diagnostic kit, beeper, keys, and somewhere among the old charge card receipts in the bottom, her cell phone.

As she rummaged, she glanced back the way she had come—still looking for that damn gray sedan—and noticed three men huddled around the door of a shiny red sports car parked on Julio's block about fifty feet from where she stood. A motley crew—a pierced-up white guy, a black, and a Hispanic—the two darker ones were shielding the white from view as he shoved a thin flat piece of metal into the car's window slot and worked it up and down.

Alicia didn't know much about cars but had no doubt these three were up to no good: looking to steal either the radio or the air bag, or maybe the whole car. She glanced around to see if anyone was coming, but at the moment the sidewalk was deserted.

Maybe it would be safer to wait for a cab farther down the street. She'd call 911 on her cell phone once she was safely on her way.

But as she turned to slip away, she spotted Jack leaving Julio's. He was ambling in her direction, but if he'd noticed her, he gave no sign. His eyes were fixed on the men trying to break into the car. Alicia noticed a change in his gait as he approached them… he was moving like a cat now.

He's not really going to get involved in this, is he? she thought. He's smarter than that, I hope.

But sure enough, Jack sidled up to the three men and stood before the two shielders, hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels as if watching them change a tire.

She thought she heard him say, "Hey, guys, whatcha doin'?"

Curiosity got the better of Alicia's common sense. Fascinated, she edged closer for a better look.

The black guy—he had a fade haircut and looked like he worked out a lot—looked at Jack as if he couldn't believe somebody was stupid enough to ask him that.

"What's it look like we're doin'?" He pointed to the white guy. "Our friend here locked himself out of his car and we're helpin' him out, okay? That all right wichoo?"

"Can I watch?" Jack said. His posture was loose and slouched; his voice sounded high and nerdy.

"No. Move on."

"Why not?"

"Because like I'm gettin' my period and I'm real cranky, and you hangin' aroun' is disturbin' our concentration. So just haul your nosy white ass on outta here."

"But I've never seen anybody use a Slim Jim before," Jack said. "I mean, it's really convenient that one of you happened to have one. You know, so you could help him out and all. I didn't think they were legal."

Christ, Alicia thought as she saw the three car thieves freeze. Is he out of his mind?

"Hey, yo," said the white guy, straightening and taking a step toward Jack. He wore a studded black leather jacket and ultra-short blond hair. He sported rings in both ears, his upper lip, and his right eyebrow. "You some sorta fuckin' cop or somethin'?"

"Who me?" Jack said, smiling timidly. "Oh, no! Not me. I'm no cop. But that just happens to be my friend Julio's car. And none of you guys is Julio. So why don't you find yourselves another car to boost."

Now it was the Hispanic's turn. He whipped the Slim Jim out of the window well and waved it in Jack's face.

"Ay, you crazy, meng? This is my man's car, and we're helping him. Now you get outta here 'fore I shove this down your t'roat and pull your asshole outta your mouth!"

They all seemed to think that was pretty funny. As they laughed and low-fived each other, Alicia noticed Jack's left hand ease from his pocket.

Don't do it, she wanted to shout. It's three against one. You haven't got a chance.

But as she watched Jack, she wondered about that. She sensed something primal and electric radiating from him. He'd been so laid back, so low-key in her office and back at the bar a moment ago, but now… now he was a different man. He seemed to vibrate with intensity, with fire, as if his daily existence was merely a series of interludes he had to endure until he was allowed a moment like this.

"And after he's finished," the white guy said, taking the metal piece from the Hispanic and holding it under Jack's nose, "I'm gonna come in the back door and yank out your tonsils!"

Tension coiled through the air, tightening. Alicia had heard that people who survived lightning strikes spoke of a strange, hair-raising—literally—sensation just before the strike. Alicia felt that now, as if the air molecules were ionizing and polarizing in anticipation…

"You have such nice blue eyes," Jack said over the new burst of laughter. "Can I have one?"

Before anyone could react or reply, Jack's hand darted up to the white's face. The move was so fast, so unexpected, that Alicia couldn't follow it. All she knew was that one second Jack's hand was darting through the air, and an instant later the white guy was staggering back, screaming.

He dropped the Slim Jim and clawed at his face, almost knocking over his black buddy as he turned in a wild circle.

Alicia gasped and backed away as she caught a glimpse of bright crimson flowing down his left cheek before his hands covered it.

Christ in heaven, what did he do?

"What the fuck—?" said the black guy, his head pivoting between Jack and his buddy who had dropped to his knees now and was pawing at his eye with bright red fingers and screaming, screaming.

The Hispanic crouched to look at his buddy. "Joey! What he do?"

"My eye! Oh, shit, my eye!"

"I like eyes," Jack said in a strange, garbled tone. His own eyes had a strange, unfocused look, and Alicia noticed with a start that his mouth was smeared with red. "Blue eyes are especially delicious."

And then he opened his mouth to reveal a bloody eye clenched between his front teeth.

Alicia's stomach lurched. She'd seen traumatic horrors beyond most people's wildest nightmares on her ER moonlighting stints during her residencies, but never anything like this. She was sure the gaping shock on the faces of the black and the Hispanic mirrored her own. She wanted to turn away but couldn't. She had to keep watching.

As a child, she'd once had the misfortune of being in a pet shop when it was feeding time for the snakes. She'd been passing the cage of a large garter snake swallowing a frog headfirst. She'd been repulsed, especially since the frog's legs were still kicking, but she'd stood rooted to the spot until the poor frog was gone from view.

That was how she felt now. Only this time the frog was eating the snakes.

No… not eating.

Jack spit out the eyeball. Alicia felt her gorge rise as it splatted against the side window of the car. The bloody, gelatinous mass stuck there for a heartbeat or two, then began a slow slide down the glass, leaving a glistening red trail.

Joey's screams devolved to moans as his two buddies watched the misshapen eye come to rest at the bottom of the window.

"But brown eyes are tasty too," Jack said with a bloody grin as he took a step toward them.

Both men jumped back, the Hispanic almost knocking over the black in his haste to get out of Jack's reach.

"I'm outta here, meng!" he said as he backed away.

"Yo, Ric! What about Joey!"

"Fuck him!"

The black tried to grab him, but Ric slipped from reach and backpedaled down the sidewalk.

"That guy's fuckin' crazy!"

Jack took another step toward the black. "You have such big brown eyes."

That did it. The black guy turned and hurried to catch up with Ric.

"Yo, Joey," he said to his fallen buddy. "Catch you later."

But Joey didn't seem to hear. He was bent far over, his head almost on the pavement, wiping at his face.

Jack watched them go, then pumped his fist toward the car.

"Yes!"

As Jack spat red into the gutter and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, Alicia began backing away. Slowly. She didn't want to attract Jack's attention. What had she got herself into? She was glad she hadn't hired him to burn the house. She didn't care if he'd found the stolen toys, she wanted nothing more to do with this maniac.

But then Jack turned and spotted her.

"Did you see that?" he said with a bloody grin. "It worked! Worked like a charm!"

And then his grin faded. Maybe he'd seen her expression. Alicia was trying to hide the fear and revulsion roiling within, but she doubted she was doing very well.

"Hey, wait!" he said. "You don't really think—"

He started toward her. Alicia turned to run but felt a hand close about her upper arm after two steps.

"No, please," she said as he pulled her to a stop. "Let me go! Let me go or I'll scream!"

"Just give me a second," he said. "I just want you to look at something, then you can go. Okay?"

He sounded so reasonable, so… sane. The nerdy voice was gone. She glanced over her shoulder at him. That vacant look from a moment ago was gone too.

But his mouth was still smeared with red.

"Look," he said, and extended his free hand toward her.

Hesitantly, Alicia glanced down.

Eyes… two eyes… one brown, one blue… soft, glistening, sticky looking… rested in his palm.

She recoiled at first, ready to scream, then noticed the lack of blood. A closer look and she realized…

"They're fake."

"Of course they are," Jack said. "You can buy them in any of the funkier novelty shops in the Village."

Alicia glanced over Jack's shoulder at Joey who was sitting up now, but still hunched over, cupping a hand over his eye.

"But what did you do to him?"

Jack showed her a little plastic squeeze bottle filled with red liquid. "Just a little squirt with this. It's Hollywood blood mixed with ten percent capsicum—you know, that pepper extract they use in those defense sprays? I fill the eyeballs with non-spicy fake blood so when I bite down on them I get red in my mouth. Excuse me." He turned away and spat more red into the gutter. "Looks real and tastes awful."

"Looks real is right. I could have sworn—"

Jack's eyes were bright as he looked at her. "Really? You bought it too? A doctor and all? That's great! I can't tell you how long I've been waiting for a chance to try this out."

"For a minute I thought you were going to start a fight with them."

"One against three?" He shook his head. "That's movie stuff. You might get away with it if you take them by surprise and you've got a weapon of some sort. But most times, you try something like that in real life, you get your face rearranged. I'm not into pain. And this is so much neater."

He stepped over to the car and retrieved the faux-bloody faux eye from the window.

"It worked," he said, more to himself than to her. "It was perfect."

He's like a little boy, she thought. A little boy who made something—a wood block car, or a slingshot, maybe—and is delighted to find that it really works.

She watched him grab the ring in Joey's eyebrow and haul him to his feet.

"Come on, Joey," he said, turning him toward Alicia. "I don't think the lady really believes me. Show her your eye."

"I believe you," she said.

But Jack didn't seem to be listening. "Come on, Joey. Open up and show her both baby blues."

Joey's red-smeared left eyelids parted to reveal a teary, very irritated but intact eye.

"Good boy," Jack said, then turned Joey and pushed him off in the direction his friends had taken. "Go find your buddies."

Jack watched Joey for a moment as he stumbled away, then he turned to Alicia.

"I'll be in touch."

He waved, then turned and walked off.

Alicia stared after him. She hoped he decided to help her out. This was someone she wanted in her corner.