The Quarantine Chronicles: Day 7

I opened my eyes to the sunlight sneaking around the curtains and blinds. The morning crept through the peace of the night. I was still on the couch. I looked down and saw Brittany still sleeping with her head on my lap, hair covering most of her face, my arm draped over the blanket that she was burrowed under. I removed my arm and slid out gently placing her head down on the couch.

Looking back at her, I was overcome with this sense of feeling like scum. I was confident that Sara was waking up this morning alone thinking of me, as I usually wake up thinking of her. This felt … wrong. Like I’d lost the lead, lost the point of it all. Then again, not much felt right these days.

I’ve cheated on women before and felt nothing after. Mostly because the relationship had already come to an end by the time I was unfaithful. Today the act of just falling asleep with Brittany made me feel disgusted as if I’d betrayed Sara.

The morning nip was in the air as I exited onto the street. I tried not to look at the spot where I crippled the would-be robber yesterday. Through my peripheral, I could make out pieces of the brick and blood splatter glistening in the morning dew. In the sobering light of day, it felt like someone else had done that. I walked casually down the street but was well aware of the glare of the neighborhood. The curtains fluttering as the curious peered out from behind them. The neighborhood had become so quiet that you could hear when a door closed, every movement drew attention; any movement outside your own home was newsworthy. I straightened my spine a bit. The problem with going down a particular path was that you had to abide by the rules of that pathway. I couldn’t just choose to be a tough guy when it suited me. That was who I had to be now. It was what the pandemic had made me. Reasonable people would disagree on this point, but evidence of my lack of reason was as long as it was damning.

The random military check point had made its way to the end of my block. Undoubtedly the shots caused someone to call the police yesterday. They didn’t come, of course. I never expected them to. I wasn’t among the people who were slow to realize that we are on our own. The military who likely intercepted the message were making their presence known. Although, it was just for show, they’d be gone by lunch. Bigger fish to fry and all.

I showed my ID pass to the young gentlemen at the gate. The first one, who could be no more than twenty-two, seemed less interested in my pass than the chance at having some action.

“I heard there was some commotion here last night,” He said after barely glancing at my pass and handing it back to me.

“Yea, I think someone tried to burglarize a home on this block. There were some shots, but no one died,” I said casually.

“A couple of people got fucked up though from a sledgehammer right?” chimed the second man, clean shaven and also in his early twenties. They’d all heard the story apparently.

“It was an axe,” the first one corrected.

“Yes, yes,” The other recalled chuckling. “Axe man.”

I stood in silence and motioned to the gate asking if I could pass. The younger man waved me through dismissively, almost annoyed that I’d rather go to work than stay and join in on the gossip.

“It was probably a DeWalt axe. They’re heavy as hell,” I overheard the second one say as I passed.

‘Estswing’ I thought to myself as I hurried to the train.

---

I walked the empty streets after I exited the train. What was usually a major artery of the city’s lifeline, pumping hordes of people out of it to every corner each ten minutes, could barely qualify as a trickle at present. I was the only one to exit. Checking my watch, I realized there was enough time to take the five-block walk to the only newspaper stand I knew still open.

I dropped my money in the slot and it snapped shut. The newspaper slid out to my right.

"Later.” I called into the secured booth. I heard a muffled sound back and smirked at the contraption he’d made. Virus? It looked as if he could survive a bomb in that thing. I threw away most of the paper on the way back. The headlines alternated between depressing and terrifying. The ‘Liberate America’ terrorist group had carried out another bombing in the Midwest; the South had reconnected to their roots openly killing any black kid who they could find alone, Georgia and Mississippi leading the charge. I only kept the sports section and the real estate section. The only two sections that dealt with the future. Surprisingly enough it had been an eventful off season with the NFL. Unexpected trades, free agency rumors and a Draft that was taking place on a private Island. The real estate section stayed because of Warren Buffet’s quote, ‘When there’s blood on the street, buy property.’ Well there was enough blood now for anyone who was paying attention. The trick was seeing past the blood to the potential.

Eager to get to the site early and settle in with what remained of the paper with some coffee I quickened my pace. A piece of the asphalt broke and popped up in the air in front of me making me jump. Then another piece roughly the size of a squash ball broke and jumped up eight feet high. I finally heard the shots. Three more shots exploded around me and I froze raising my hands high and dropping the paper which fanned open immediately.

“Don’t move!” Came the direction. They needn’t worry, I couldn’t if I wanted to. Within moments I was surrounded by fatigues.

“What are you doing here? Who are you?”

“I’m E3 personnel! My pass is in my pocket.”

“What Pocket? Don’t you dare move! What pocket!”

“Right. Jacket pocket. Right!”

One of the men reached in and retrieved it giving it to the man in charge.

“At ease.”

The men relaxed their aim.

“He’s not who we’re looking for,” the man in charge said into the radio on his shoulder. “Sweep in twos. Fan out,” he said to the men who immediately hurried to their duties.

I picked up my newspaper which luckily hadn’t blown away. He handed my pass back to me.

“You need to wear this around your neck,” he said. I was guessing that’s as close as I was getting to an apology. He turned on his heel and jumped in a jeep that had sped to retrieve him. I watched them rush away. The entire event must have taken all of five minutes, but I felt I had to overcome a century of inertia to continue walking.

Back in the office, I put the coffee pot on. I was obviously wired but I didn’t want to crash once I finally calmed down.

I opened the paper and was immediately annoyed. It was a takedown piece by a Mike Florio. Matt walked in and saw the look on my face.

“Not liking the stories?”

“This guy is upset that, apparently the Quarterback for the Cowboys and the Wide receiver were working out together during the offseason.”

“So?”

“Texas is also under a house arrest order. This Mike guy thinks he should reprimand them for working out. Even though it was obviously a private gym and, in the video, they are standing over six feet apart.”

“Basically, this guy is mad because he’s stuck at home and the harsh reality that rich and famous people live by different rules is finally setting in.”

“Mm,” I grunted, “Maybe he’s just a sanctimonious prick.”

I closed the newspaper. Matt never came in here to chat, no one did really.

“What’s up?” I asked.

Matt fidgeted. My guess was he wasn’t ready to jump into it just yet but I’d rather he be out with it.

“Finn’s mother… She’s dead,” Matt said. I pushed the paper aside and leaned forward. “Virus got her.”

I sighed. I admit that my first wasn’t about Finn or his mother. She was in her eighties, neither of my parents lived past their seventies, to me this was natural. Granted Matt was a good guy, but I knew that’s not why he’d told me.

“We should expect half the manpower tomorrow once word gets out…. Maybe less.”

“Shit,” I uttered under my breath.

“You think Mr. Rennet will keep us operational if you’re working less than half crew? When does it financially make more sense just to close?” Matt asked. I didn’t have the answer.

“I can’t afford to not work, boss.” Matt said sincerely. His eyes peeked over his mask as he fidgeted with his gloved hands. I knew what he wanted to say. It’s what most people who are working were thinking. The government assistance was a long way away and no guarantee if it was coming at all. When it came, it would be barely enough to cover the increased price of groceries. Besides, men like Matt who came from a blue collar military family in Staten Island didn’t like government handouts. They’d rather earn a living. I could relate.

“I’ll keep us afloat.” I said keeping eye contact. “Don’t worry.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the absolute certainty that my tone let on. “In the meantime, get with Roberto if you want to make some extra money; tomorrow evening… 50 Trinity Pl.”

Matt left and with him all the oxygen in the room. I unbuttoned the top three buttons of my shirt. The disgust I’d felt earlier paled to what I felt now. I’d done this, I thought. I’d killed her. Of course, there was no way I could prove it, but deep down I felt it. Had I just folded like the rest; Finn’s mother would be alive. The guilt blew into the room like a gale force gust threatening to knock me over. I gripped the edges of the desk, breathing deeply, waiting for it to pass. Letting the culpability whip around me. I released the desk and sunk deep into my chair. There was no going back. I was right about one thing; once you chose a path, you chose everything that comes with it.

Eventually, as was my nature, my conscious course corrected. It was a reprehensible streak that I hid, but it forced its way out in other ways. There was a vicious and unrestrained quality to my ambitions. I excused it most of the time, concluding it was the only way a guy with my background and education could get to where I was professionally. It was inevitable at this juncture, that I would ask myself: Had I gone too far? Was there a such thing? Did it even matter? I was too far in to shut it down now. I’d made promises, to the men, to my family, to myself. The logic didn’t help at present. I held onto the arms of the chair until it died down. Then I did the only thing I knew how to do: push forward.

---

I finally made it back into my neighborhood after a long day. The effort to suppress the news about Finn’s mother was draining. Some subcontractors wanted to walk immediately; others just finish the day. I had to threaten, bribe, and coax all afternoon. I did maybe an hour or two of actual work.

I turned on my street and saw the BX22, as they called themselves, crawling up and down my street like rats in the subway. I quickly located my door, no one was there. I breathed a half sigh.

Per usual, the guy who seemed to be the head of this rabble leaned against the hood of his car on the phone. I made a beeline straight to him. Somewhere deep down I realized that my bravado could only mask the truth for so long and this all-in bluff I was making wasn’t for some chips on the table but for my health and the health of those closest to me. Nonetheless, my reason was outnumbered and taking a beating from my frustration, my stress, and my impatience. So, I continued… straight to him. As I approached, I noticed the members of his gang pause what they were doing. Out of sheer curiosity they stood and watched. The neighbors they were collecting from halted their protests to observe. As I got closer a few of the cohorts instinctively formed a semi-circle around me, protecting their Alpha. I saw my brother, who must have been watching the whole thing from the window, open the door and come outside.

The guy on the car finally looked up. He smiled at the sight of me, almost as if he was expecting it. By the time I reached him I was practically surrounded by five or so guys.

“E3, huh?” He said nodding to my pass which hung around my neck ever since this morning’s mistaken identity, “Guess that means you’re still working,” he said pointedly.

“I’m London,” I said not extending a hand more out of spite than the virus.

“Ched,” He responded. His tone was aloof, callous even. “Here to pay for your collection in person?” He said turning back to his phone, “You can just give it to one of the guys.”

“Where was all of your protection when those men came to my house yesterday?” I countered loudly. Ched put the phone in his pocket.

“Ah but you didn’t pay for my protection the first time, did you?” I was suddenly aware Chris was nowhere to be found. Internally I shook my head. I tried to warn him that this was not the place for him. “When you don’t pay, these things happen.”

I stepped forward, the circle around us tightened slightly. I saw my brother through my peripheral draw closer, ever reckless and ready. I could take one or two. My brother maybe more but where did that leave us? The implication was clear and threats to my daughter could not go unanswered, but this was not a situation to handle with brute force.

I reached in my pocket and handed him a fist full of cash. He took it with a smile. It made me want to vomit. He turned to get into his car and circle of goons loosened around me.

“Hold on,” I called after him and reached in my pocket slowly retrieving a business card. I went over, glancing around to gauge who was in earshot when I handed him the card. “Text me for a meet from now on. The next person who comes to my door uninvited won’t be leaving,” I said pushing all my chips to the middle of the table.

Ched regarded me for a while. Perhaps wondering if it was worth his time to put me down. The neighborhood had just seen me pay him, it wouldn’t help him collect if the same thing happened to you whether you paid or not. Still, he could probably sense being under someone’s thumb was not going to work for me for an extended period of time. Finally, he took the card, nodded at me, and smiled.

“Ok,”he said as he got in his car and drove off slowly. I looked at the rest of the thugs meandering around my block, then glanced back down the street at Ched’s car. I caught his eye in the rear-view mirror looking back at me. We both knew that we were going to be a problem for each other. A problem that was going to come to a head sooner rather than later.