Kill Whitey

“We must get out of building,” Sondra said. “Must get away!”

“Not until you finish telling me what the fuck is going on.”

“But we will be killed!”

“Fine by me. Perfect end to a perfect fucking day.”

Crawling across the dirty concrete floor, we avoided broken glass and rusty screws. The machine shop was a mess, even worse than the warehouse had been. Piles of junk and debris lay everywhere. It was murky, but not dark. Enough daylight came through the broken windows and holes in the roof, so we could see pretty well. There were signs of water damage on the ceiling, and pools of sludgy, oily water covered the floor. The oil slicks glittered like rainbows on the surface of the puddles. Black mold clung to the walls and pipes.

We made it to the center of the room. Behind us came the sound of breaking glass as another window was shot out. I searched the room and saw a gray door at the rear of the building. A greasy, broken sign above it advised us that safety goggles and hearing protection must be worn at all times beyond that point. I giggled at the warning. Too late. My hearing might already be fucked and goggles weren’t going to offer much protection against Whitey. The sound of my laughter scared me. It must have frightened Sondra too, judging by her expression. She wasn’t crying anymore. Instead, she looked terrified.

“Come on.” I tottered to my feet, pulling her up with me. “There’s a door over there.”

“You can walk?”

“I don’t know. Let’s find out together.”

A third bullet crashed through the wall, ricocheting around the machine shop. Shouting, we both ducked low and waited for it to pass.

“Yeah,” I said when the coast was clear. “I think I’ll manage.”

The doorknob was greasy and slick, but it turned in my hands, unlocked. I hurried Sondra through the doorway.

“Do not push, Larry. You are hurting me.”

“Then we’re even. You hurt me, too.”

I closed the door behind us and then looked around. We were in another empty room, this one darker than the first. There were only a few windows, and all of them were boarded over with thick sheets of plywood or painted shut with black paint. The only source of illumination was from a single dirty skylight. A row of tool benches and work stations lined one wall. Brackets were drilled into the floor at various points, indicating where machines had once been—die presses, drills, vices, and who knew what else. A patch of sawdust covered one section of floor, the remnants of an ancient oil spill. Little piles of mouse shit and dangling spider webs filled the corners. We could still hear the chaos outside, but with the door closed, it was muffled. At the back of the room was a dark, narrow hallway and a stairway leading down to a basement level.

My head started to throb again, and the pain swept back into my joints and muscles. The hole where my tooth had been was starting to clot, but my mouth tasted salty and felt like it was coated with slime. Leaning against the door, I slid to my knees. Sondra crouched next to me. She reached for my cheek but I brushed her away. Her face saddened again.

“You are angry.”

“Goddamn right I am.”

“But I tell you truth. Whitey is to harm my baby. What am I supposed to do? To let him eat stem?”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Sondra. What the hell is this stem?”

“He needs them from the baby.”

“Needs what?”

“The stems. You know, like your President Bush?”

I sighed in frustration. “You’re making less sense than before. What does that idiot Dubya have to do with this?”

“Your President say nyet to them. He sign bill that say no using stems to make people better when they are sick.”

“A bill that…stem cells? Do you mean stem cells?”

“Da!” She clapped her hands together. “Stem cells. That is what I tell you. Whitey needs them. That is why he wants to kill baby. To eat.”

“H-he…Whitey wants to eat your baby?”

“Not whole baby. Just the stem cells. He eat them and his body use them to fix itself. This is how he is able to keep living when he is hurt. Was same way with Rasputin. Can take a lot of hurt. Lot of damage. But needed stem cells to keep alive after that. Is how Rasputin stayed alive for so long. When he was finally put in river, he drowned. But maybe he drown only because he have no stem cells to eat.”

I clenched my jaw, disgusted by what she was saying. My fingernails dug into my palms, drawing blood. It was a minor pain compared to the rest.

“How do you know all this? Did Whitey tell you?”

“Not all. Some is old rumor in my country. Some Whitey tell.”

“Can’t they find another source? Does it have to be from their own…” My voice trailed away. I couldn’t finish the sentence.

Sondra shrugged. “I do not know. Some say the stem cells could come from anyone, but Whitey seem convinced it had to be from his baby.”