The Nirvana Plague by Gary Glass Read Free Book Online

back to the hospital?” she said.
    He turned back. “What about your car?”
    “They’ll bring it round here eventually.”
    “That’s a long tow, isn’t it? Can you afford it?”
    That’s getting personal, she thought. “I can afford you.”
    “Then you may as well pay me as pay the tow service,” Marley answered.
    “Sorry.”
    He smiled, a little victoriously, and went on: “So, have your car towed to the nearest service station for a recharge. When Roger comes back, you call me, and I’ll come talk to him and drive you both down to get your car. All right? Doctor’s orders.”
    She acquiesced, and shut the door, magnetic locks snicking tight. From the window she watched him get back into his Mercedes and drive off.
    Time for that drink, she thought, and headed for the kitchen.

Chapter 5
    Late at night on the north side of Chicago.
    A man walks unhurriedly down a darkened street. The empty shells of dead shops mass against either curb, their fading grey faces cross-painted with ribbons of colorful graffiti. The man does not wonder where he is or why he’s here or where he’s going.
    Presently he comes upon a small pool of light and bare warmth in the emptiness of the desert neighborhood. On a street corner, five men huddle round a flame in a trash can, shoulders hunched, nodding and talking little jets of language at each other.
    “The fuck you did.”
    “I’m telling you.”
    “Bitch, ain’t got no such thing.”
    “I’m telling you.”
    “Man says he got a place down the Loop.”
    “Yeah? So’s my left nut.”
    “Right.”
    “Left, I said.”
    “Who the man got working it then?”
    The wanderer smiles vaguely as he nears the group. He walks so quietly, they don’t notice him till he’s quite close.
    “Who this?”
    “Fuck I know.”
    “Want something, man?”
    He walks on saying nothing.
    “Swallow your tongue?”
    “You lost, silent sam?”
    “Quiet, ain’t you?”
    “Man, I’m speaking at you, fuck.”
    “Let him go.”
    “Asswipe sombitch.”
    “Forget it.”
    Beyond the cold men and the barrel fire, two women stand in the crooked glare of an open door. Cigarette smoke and hard music drift from within. The women watch him approach and smile in welcome.
    “Hey, baby, how you doing?”
    “What you doing out here all alone?”
    As the wanderer passes by them, they step in front of him, and he stops. His eyes look calmly into theirs.
    “Want to come inside, hon?” says one.
    “Or do you want to come inside this?” says the other, opening her coat a little.
    The wanderer’s vague smile remains unchanged as he turns to go around them.
    “You lookin for something special, hon?”
    The wanderer walks away without speaking, but the two women follow him.
    “What’s your problem, man? You too good to speak to me, mister?”
    “Yeah, what’s wrong with you anyway? You see something you don’t like? That your problem? You don’t like what you seen?”
    He walks on without answering. They follow him closer, one on either side of him, their shoulders bumping his shoulders.
    “Maybe you got no money? Maybe that’s your problem?”
    “How much money you got on you, man? Maybe we can work something out. How much you got?”
    He stops now and turns. The women press close to him, breasts against his arms, and their hands grope his body.
    “How much money you got, I said.”
    “You got a wallet, baby, or’s that just your lumpy little ass?”
    “What’s this?”
    “He got a roll?”
    “Fuck no.”
    As they search him, the women push him back into a dark doorway. He does not resist them. They open his coat, and search all his pockets. They unzip his pants and put their hands inside.
    “You like that?”
    He watches their faces as they fumble with him.
    “Ain’t you got nothing on you? What you doing out here anyway? What you looking for? Who are you?”
    “Can’t you talk?”
    “What the fuck’s wrong with you, man?”
    “Hey, stupid!”
    “You lookin at me? What