Once Upon An Altered Time by Pete Bertino - HTML preview

She began to shake when the old woman brought her inside, though the building looked like a castle outside, the room inside looked more like the principals office at her old school. There was a pink faced woman sitting at a large desk behind a stack of manila folders filled with papers. Nancy walked slowly through the double glass doors as the old woman briskly walked to the desk before realizing Nancy was far behind.

She clicked her tongue in sharp disapproval and suddenly pulled Nancy forward by her left arm. She immediately shrieked in pain from her arm which felt like it had been soaked in boiling water

“What is that horrible noise?” asked the pink cheeked woman at the desk.

Her lips were were puckered as if she had bit into a lemon by mistake and had both hands covering her ears. The old woman grabbed Nancy by the lips and squeezed until her finger tips were white.

“Be silent child.”

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She had bent over and was nose to nose with Nancy. So close the old womans bad breath stung Nancy’s eyes a little, but the fingers holding her lips made turning from her impossible. She slowly released her lips and hardly above a whisper Nancy said desperately: “I’m sick.”

“Then perhaps the Lord will heal you.” she said with her toothy smile.

“Please,” she said “I want to go home.”

“You are home.” she said and started to pull her along.

“You are home.” she said and started to pull her along.

“NO!” she shouted.

Before Nancy could move the woman gripped Nancy by her left arm and pulled with great force. Nancy felt a moment of blinding fiery pain as flesh began to tear under her arm. She let out a horrendous scream as she tried to collapse to the floor but the bony old woman held on tightly and pulled Nancy close before slapping her across her damaged face.

The abscess burst on her face coating her eye in a grimy yellow film, she took in a breath with a low sounding hiss. She wailed again as more fluid poured out of her arm and dripped down her lower torso. The old woman finally let go of Nancy with a toothy frown.

“Diseased children.”

The skeletal old woman said with a sorrowful nod as she wiped her hands with a ivory colored handkerchief. Nancy sobbed and shook with a pain that made her body feel like it was roasting over a camp fire. The old woman stooped down over her with her hands behind her back.

“Are we through yet?” she asked in a soft tone.

Nancy continued to sob before asking for her mommy. The old woman just shook her head with a look that held nothing but contempt.

“Very well. Miss Harker, I’ll need a shot.”

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Miss Harker went into a desk drawer and took out a needle that was not the biggest Nancy had ever seen. She could hardly speak or move and held up little resistance, because of the pain she didn’t feel the injection.

After that things had been hazy for a few days, she slept in patches of thin sleep with acid dreams of the Wicked Witch of the East burning Nancy’s face and laughing as the witches green face changed to the skeleton like old woman with the horrendous breath. That had been just days ago, now she sat on her lumpy mattress wearing clothes that she had to scrounge from the community bin that was an old Army footlocker sitting at the entrance to the room which Miss Harker called the dormitory.

The clothes were donated from the TL and various churches in the county, and although there were only girls at the orphanage the clothes were a mix of mens, womens and kids. There were also toiletry items that were donated but they were handled by Miss Harker and were only given out during scheduled shower times, which was very other day at six PM

two hours before lights out. Even items that would clearly never fit any girl their were hard for her to obtain.

“Yo, girl. The fuck you doin?”

There were four of them sitting just a few feet away on one bed. The one who spoke stood up, she had frizzy blond hair and a chipped front tooth, she was tall and slightly pudgy with a forehead speckled with pimples.

She looked much older than Nancy, on her right fore arm were the words South West Philly Bitches scrawled in a blue ink.

Nancy held a jacket for a mans suit in her hand loosely, it was was cold at night in the dormitory, despite two large propane tanks hooked up outside for heat, and the blanket she used was thread bare and had large holes. She was hoping to find a sweater but was just as pleased with the

holes. She was hoping to find a sweater but was just as pleased with the over sized suit jacket that was blue with tiny gold pinstripes and a silky red inner lining. The frizzy blond walked to her and snatched the jacket from Nancy who didn’t resist.

“Why you want this?”

Nancy wished she had a hoody to cover her as the frizzy haired girl looked closely at Nancy’s deformed face.

“I’m cold.” she said hardly speaking above a whisper and sucking in hissing breaths as the pain from her leg and arm still racked her like smoldering embers.

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“Cold? Shit, we all cold.”

The other girls laughed when the frizzy blond looked back at them.

“I just wanna know why you so fuckin ugly? And why you breathin like that? You got air blowin out yo brain?”

Nancy began to walk away, as she felt her body begin to sweat, and that alone would cause hours of pain and leave a stink or her body that would be even more painful to wash away.

“Yo you stinky bitch, answer me!”

The frizzy blond walked over and shoved Nancy down where she was able to fall on her back and only moderately irritate her gaping wounds.

The other girls oohed and ahhed as the frizzy blond walked back to her friends getting high fives and shrieks of laughter when Nancy fell trying to

friends getting high fives and shrieks of laughter when Nancy fell trying to get up again. She tossed the blue jacket to one of her companions who grabbed it and gave Nancy the middle finger.

She didn’t want to get back up, she had just wanted to stay there and for the first time in her life wished for death. But a sudden gentle voice filled her ear.

“Let me help you.” said a girl kneeling beside her.

She was about the same age as Nancy with long black curls and a mocha colored face that was wide eyed with genuine concern. Nancy put out her good arm and the girl slowly helped her off the floor. It was slow work getting her to her bed, Nancy was shaking from the chill of being on the floor and the girl sat beside her trying to share her warmth with her.

“I’m Dorothy.” she said smiling.

“Nancy.”

They sat side by side, Nancy didn’t want to look over at Dorothy. Afraid of the disgust she might

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see on it. She held her left arm close to her body as the wounds beneath it excreted and destroyed her skin slowly, painfully. The skin on her cheek felt stretched and burned like a match was being held close to her face.

“I’ve been here a little while and that girl that pushed you did the same thing to me when I found a tie. It was a man’s tie, I mean as if.”

Her tone was light and giggly. Nancy turned and looked at Dorothy, who smiled brightly and showed no disgust, and caught a case of the giggles too. It was short though as she tried to smile and felt a lightning bolt of pain hit her face. She quickly put her hand to her cheek and felt the wound there begin to secrete its burning poison.

She felt the tips of her fingers tingle and pulled them away from her face and saw they were coated in discharge. Nancy felt deep revulsion as its sent hit her nostrils and felt horror that Dorothy sat beside her witnessing this. She expected her to go running to the other girls with bile running up her throat.

But instead she said: “Stay here, I’ll get you a wash cloth.”

Nancy felt a deep sense of relief but only nodded as she thought about Paul. Where was he? He was her doctor, why wasn’t he here to rescue her since she was sick?

‘You can’t always depend on a man, Nancy’ her mother said sometimes.

She had heard her mom say that numerous times when she had begged for a cellular and suggested borrowing money from Paul. She did get the cellular, though Nancy suspected Paul had helped pay for it. She had had friends in school with them and some would brag about the cost of them and felt a little envious.

She knew that Paul had helped when it came to paying rent. It wasn’t often, and it was a secret Nancy had pried out of her mother one night, and had sworn her to secrecy about it. Adults always had secrets, and it

seemed to Nancy that her mom and Paul had some. Asking her to go to her bedroom for ‘adult time’ like on her tenth birthday when West Philly got blown up.

She had closed her door but stood just beside it as her mommy and Paul spoke in voices that were a little louder than whispers. Nancy couldn’t hear exactly what they were talking about but 77 ONCE UPON AN ALTERED TIME

she thought she heard Paul say she was scared of Nancy. She had tried to lean out her door to hear better when her picture with the glass frame crashed to the floor when the bombs set by Move had exploded.

She assumed Paul had meant he was scared for Nancy. Why would he be scared of her, she wondered. If she were one of those people with the black arm bands that always seemed to be shouting on street corners and on TV she would understand that. Hell they scared her too, and her mommy would sometimes roll her eyes or sigh heavily when she would see the junior league outside her school.

She guessed Paul didn’t like them either though she never heard him talk about them. Dorothy returned with a large blue plastic cup filled with cool water and a wash cloth.

“Thank you,” she said weakly while dabbing the light green cloth in the water and carefully wiped her face. “how long have you lived here?”

“About four months. I got sent here because my parents were mixed.”

“Mixed?”

“My daddy was white and my mommy was black. They got sent to jail

“My daddy was white and my mommy was black. They got sent to jail because of Jim Crow, my aunt Bessie said.”

“Why can’t you live with your aunt? Is she your real aunt?”

“Yeah, but the TL told her no.”

“Why?”

“They said she was a Move sympathizer and a socialist. So the government said I have to be deported even though I was born here.”

“Whats deported?” feeling a deep sense of unease at the word.

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“It’s when the government wants to send you back to your own country.

My aunt Bessie showed the TL and the government my birth certificate but the government decided it could have been faked since it only had my mom and dad’s name on it. So I’m being sent to live with my grandmother in Trinidad.”

“I’m sorry about your mom and dad.” Nancy said.

“Thanks. What happened to your parents?”

“My daddy died when I was still a baby. My mommy was taking me to see Paul when she just fell down. The police said she was on drugs, but she wasn’t.”

Nancy felt an anger build inside of her when she thought about that, when she flexed her arm muscle from the anger pressing against the wound under her arm, a spike of fiery pain gripped her, she gasped quietly and nearly dropped the cup of water. Dorothy’s hands stopped it from spilling onto the floor.

“Who is Paul?” Dorothy asked when she was sure Nancy was OK.

“He’s my mom’s friend and he was my daddy’s friend too before he died.

He’s been my doctor since before I was born. The police told me he’s not a blood relative.”

“Maybe he’ll adopt you.”

“I thought I could only live with blood relatives?” Nancy asked with renewed hope.

“Not all the time. Who ever wants to adopt you has to be looked over.”

“Looked over? Like a check up?” Nancy asked hoping that since Paul was a doctor it might help.

“No, the government and police look at your background. Is your mom’s friend a criminal?”

Nancy though for a moment, but other than buying bootleg movie cartridges on Broad street and

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doing the South Philly slide occasionally at a stop sign, she’d never seen Paul so much as flick a butt on the side walk.

Paul so much as flick a butt on the side walk.

“No. How would I find out if he’s trying?”

“You don’t, you just have to wait and see.” Dorothy said frowning down at the yellowing floor.

Nancy had gone to bed that night still shaking from the chills in the room and the pain from her under arm and thigh and face. In the darkness she felt safer, more at ease. She hated looking at the fake wood panel walls that were meant to give the dorm a homey look but brought a look of dread in Nancy’s eyes.

She wondered if Paul was trying to adopt her, she tried to turn over on the lumpy mattress but the pain was too great on her right thigh so she put her only pillow between her legs to cushion the wound. When she was close to comfortable as she could get she thought about Paul again.

Thought about why her mommy didn’t make it so Paul could take care of her. There had to be some kids allowed to live with people not blood related. She had asked Miss Harker a few days later about it.

“It’s called a legal guardian.” she said shortly when Nancy tried to explain.

“Maybe if I could call him...” she didn’t know how to finish.

Miss Harker barked a short laugh and narrowed her beady eyes from her plump pink face, putting Nancy in mind of an ill tempered pig.

“Little girl, you’d do well to worry about today. The Lord could take you tomorrow and let us be freed of another diseased child with a drug addict of a mother.”

Nancy felt a stab of deep pain in her heart that rivaled the one under her arm. Her lip quivered for a moment as she tried to register the emotions that ran through her mind, sadness, anger, loss, hate pain, rage so much rage. She felt her bad eye well up with tears first and sting her wounded face. Miss Harker lowered her face down to Nancy’s with a smile filled with blackness.

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“You don’t like it, but it is true. You are an ugly witch child, you’re mother diseased herself with drugs. It is why you were born with illness, the Lord punishes those who defy him by desecrating their bodies. You should pray for forgiveness for your mothers sins and your own.”

You’re the witch, Nancy thought as she limped back to her bed. That was where she and Dorothy spent the most time. The only place outside they could go was in the buildings back yard which was a stretch of the term. It was a section of the parking lot that was squared off with a high wooden fence and iron gate that you could only access through the building, the top of the gate was lined with barbs. Other than the barbs and razor wire it did reminded Nancy of the playground of her school but smaller.

There was a pair of teeter totters and a slide meant for very small children and a rusty swing set with chains that screeched like a banshee when the chains swung in the breeze. The equipment was meant for children much younger than any that were currently residing so they were hardly ever used.

The frizzy blond girl, Donna she found out later was her name, and her friends would usually stay out there if the weather wasn’t too bad and sit on the swings, and smoke cigarettes they somehow always got though they never left the building ever. Sometimes a new face would arrive, but more often than not they would be gone. Nancy though they were lucky to have someone to adopt them.

“I don’t think they are getting adopted.” Dorothy said when Nancy mentioned that.

“Then who’s taking them?”

“Johns.”

“Who’s John?” she asked confused.

“They pay somebody to take us.”

“Adoption?”

“No, I think it’s like a sex thing.”

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Nancy felt grim horror twist her stomach and tried to argue.

“But they can’t do that.”

Dorothy only shrugged. Every night, right after lights out, Miss Harker would come in and check the beds. What was strange though was that she sometimes had someone with her, and when ever some one tried to get up to use the bathroom or turn on the light Miss Harker would begin screaming and charging at the offending girl. Nancy would make herself as small as possible and hide under her blanket.

One night though Nancy had seen Miss Harker’s rage, she was laying roughly on her side facing the girl who turned her lamp on. Nancy heard her coming over breathing heavily, practically grunting like a pig, pink face turned a deep plum shade, her nostrils flared and pulsated as she ran over to the girl and began slapping her with a brute force the girl cried out in breathless sobs with each meaty smack.

The lamp fell over during the attack and cast all of its direct light into her plummy face, the angle of the light had given her an even more pig like look to her face than Nancy thought possible. Nancy felt her body temperature drop fifty degrees when Miss Harker’s eyes saw Nancy watching. Nancy quickly shut her eyes and waited for Miss Harker to start beating her and slapping her.

But she didn’t, she heard the lamp, still unbroken somehow, placed back on the bedside table and clicked off and the soft quiet sobs of the beaten girl. After a few moments Nancy heard a whisper, and slowly opened her eyes to the darkness, after a moment her eyes adjusted. Nancy could see the figure of Miss Harker silhouetted in the moonlight coming in from a high window.

Miss Harkers was standing next to someone, but it was too dark to be sure who it might of been. Nancy closed her eyes tight anyway when she heard Miss Harker walk by with the other person. Another night she heard Miss Harker talking near her bed with someone. What had scared Nancy more about this night than the night of the beating she witnessed,

was that she heard Miss Harker talking about her to whoever she had with her.

“No, she’s deformed.” she said in a harsh whisper.

Then she heard either a grunt or a growl, followed by the sound of them walking away. She

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wanted to believe they were being adopted, and that they were keeping it quiet to keep from upsetting the other kids. But Nancy gave up that fantasy almost right away. This was one of the places older people warned children about if they thought a kid was being bad, or mean or ungrateful.

Like the subway. Places that were violent and scary, Nancy remembered hearing that when only six or seven in her first year at school, and feeling a little scared when ever walking by the steps leading into the dark maw that went under the pavement and into the bowels of the city were all kinds of vermin, both two and four legged, would be there to greet you.

To Nancy the Byberry was sad and malevolent like the Old Forest, but they weren’t being eaten by trees here.

Nancy closed her eyes again and thought about the opposite of this place the opposite of this time, the opposite of her. A lady of light, Galadriel of Lorien. No other character in the Lord Of The Rings gave her such chills as she did. A Lady of Light, Power...and yes, Beauty.

She let her mind wonder often at night, sometimes wishing she had her books. Other times wishing she could see her mommy again, she dreamed about her a lot. They would be walking from someplace or another, her mommy wearing that black and gray stripped hoody with her arm around her shoulder. These dreams always left her feeling dazed and sad because they felt so real to her, she would have sworn she could

and sad because they felt so real to her, she would have sworn she could feel the fur lining from the stripped hoody tickle her cheek.

Sometimes she dreamed of her daddy. He was a vague memory that had attained a mythical status in her mind from what her mom told her. She had a faint memory of him tickling her feet and making her laugh so hard she peed herself.

He was strong, not just because he was a boxer,’ her mommy would always say, ‘he was strong up here too.’ and point at her head.

He was one of the toughest fighters in south Philly she heard from Paul countless times who had a poster of one of daddy’s fights in his apartment. He looked like a giant in the black and white image, his light brown hair was cut very short and looked gray in the picture. It was much different than the pictures mommy had in her photo albums that were usually color and showed him smiling or in the middle of a laugh, eyes filled with joy.

‘Why does it say sledgehammer in his name?’ Nancy asked one night while waiting for mommy to come pick her up after work.

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‘That was just his nickname.’ Paul said but didn’t explain, perhaps thinking she was still too young to understand.

She knew why though, daddy had friends in the neighborhood still that had told her what the nickname meant.

“He had fists like concrete,” said an ancient looking Italian man that lived down the block who wheezed while he talked. “coulda gone pro but wouldn’t take a dive. Good man.”

“He punched this one guy, big ogre lookin bastard, I think he was a spic or a mulatto, anyway he hits’em so friggin hard the guy had to have his jaw wired shut.” claimed Joe Petrongola who worked at the Pizza Shack for as long as she could remember.

Nobody else had a problem telling her that. But Paul hadn’t told her. It was another secret, there was always another secret. Stupid adults and there stupid secrets. Stupid Paul and his secrets.

Where was he? What’s taking him so long? She thought desperately after a few months had passed. Do you really expect him to just adopt you because you were his patient? She asked herself.

No...just. And Paul had a lot of other patients besides Nancy. So your not so special to him. Her mind said as she tried to turn over in her bed with her body feeling on fire in nearly a dozen areas. But why did he always bring me presents on my birthday and Christmas? She argued with herself.

Why did he give me rides to school, or make my dinner when mommy was too busy working? Her mind could only respond with: Then why isn’t he here? She remembered falling to sleep one night with these bad thoughts, her mommy said once about having bad thoughts before bed time, and that they could give you nightmares.

Bad thoughts as seeds being planted into her brain that would soon grow into trees. Not lovely noble trees, like oaks or maples. Ugly trees like cypress’ or trees stricken with disease, a sickness that made its branches white and creaky and knobby like the bones of an old skeleton. The bad thoughts had grown into a nightmare tonight, when she awoke from it

sweaty and feeling clammy all over, something had grown on her head but it was not a diseased tree or cypress, it was another abscess.

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She sat up slowly in her bed and felt a circle of heat near the crown of her head. She slowly reached out her hand above her head and pressed the area lightly with her finger. An immediate bolt of pain ripped through her entire head. It felt gushy and hot to the touch, Nancy let out a moan of pain.

“Shut up, stinky bitch.” said someone, presumably Donna.

“Nancy. What’s wrong?” asked Dorothy who was sitting up in her bed that sat just across from her.

They stood in front of the bathrooms mirror, which looked more like a shiny plate of metal than an actual glass mirror, Nancy was kneeling at the sink while Dorothy looked at the abscess. It was the size of a walnut and stuck up nearly a full inch. It was welled up to bright red and was secreting a yellowish liquid through the skins stretched pores.

They had turned the light on but were quiet and didn’t know how late it was, fearful Miss Harker might happen upon them, perhaps with a John at her side. Nancy shuddered but didn’t argue, her head felt like it was on fire.

“It looks really bad, Nancy. Maybe it needs to be opened.”

“No,” Nancy said almost moaning.

She had seen what was accomplished by those measures, the secretions were already destroying her skin. The skin under her arm and in her thigh was changing into rope like tubular scar tissue that made stretching extremely difficult, the deformation of her face and eye which would twitch uncontrollably and the skin of her left cheek was tight and constantly being malformed by the secretions from the hole under her eye which had shrunken to small pinhole but never fully closed. It was painful for her to smile though she had little reason to anymore.

The skin of her face and tender parts of her body were being either burned away or plagued with lumps some just tiny hard red nubs that were small. And some that were big and they would grow and grow until they burst through the skin in a sickening flood of burning fluids. The feel of it coating her skin made her gorge rise. Her hair was all she had left that was not defiled by the sickness.

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“It’ll mess up my hair. I can’t...” Nancy said shaking with terror, with a tear slowly dropping from her corrupted eye and going into the pinhole size wound on her face.

“I just want my mommy,” Nancy said as more tears flowed though she was quiet.

Dorothy who was crying as well simply kneeled down and hugged Nancy and said the only thing she could think of to comfort her.

“Me too.”

The only sound was the winds of winter and the occasional siren of a police car or an ambulance far off in the city. They were still hugging when the sound of a voice came from somewhere in the dormitory.

when the sound of a voice came from somewhere in the dormitory.

Nancy was hoping it was just Donna and her friends maybe, but as she turned to look at the doorway Miss Harker appeared her cheeks were pink and her eyes were beady in the pudgy curves of her face.

“Are you two being dikes?” she asked in a horrid whisper.

Nancy didn’t know what a dike was and would have been too frightened to answer her. Dorothy, who later admitted she hadn’t never heard of a dike before but was still plenty scared, answered her.

“No, ma’am. Nancy is sick.”

They both trembled in each others arms as Miss Harker stared them down for a full minute before approaching them. She pushed Dorothy away and grabbed the back of Nancy’s neck like a wayward puppy and pulled her head close to her eyes. Nancy stifled in a scream of pain when Miss Harker poked the top of her head. She poked it again and Nancy let out a deathly moan.

“You’re hurting her.” Dorothy said quickly.

Miss Harker looked back to her and snapped: “Go to bed...NOW!”

When Dorothy left Miss Harker put her arm around Nancy’s neck and pulled her into her bosom,

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she could feel her breasts on the back of her head making her think of a pillow filled with meat. Miss Harker used her free hand and removed a short red object the length of a pen but wider from her skirt pocket, Nancy saw a red cross and thought it was a thermometer. But if she was taking her temperature, why would she be restraining her.

her temperature, why would she be restraining her.

She’s going to stick it in my butt, she realized with icy horror. When she saw Miss Harker use her thumb nail to flick one end of it and reveal a shiny blade, a different kind of terror took her heart with such great force she believed she was going to faint. Good, she thought I wont feel the pain, maybe.

She floated below conscious thought for a moment, then a searing pain like fire blazed across her head. Her eyes opened so wide she tore the pinhole opening below her eye and fluid began to drip down her cheek and cross over her closed lips. She wanted to open her lips and scream from the fire burning above her brow but was afraid the fluids would go in her mouth and kill her if she swallowed any.

Miss Harker had quickly poked the abscess and suddenly squeezed the growth between her bunched up fingers. Nancy finally gave up trying to keep her lips sealed and let out a scream as she felt her scalp being pulled and suddenly saw everything very clearly through her good eye.

The bathrooms white tiles were amazingly bright, she could make out all the black dots of mold

that were speckled between the tiles and the dusty orange scales of rust lining the drains under the shower heads that were coated in soap scum so thick the heads looked like they had been coated with sugar. She could see Donna standing beside a bed leaning over trying to see inside the bathroom.

She could make out every stain and hole on Donna’s ratty sweat shirt even though she was far away. The pain made everything bright and clear, her scream was muffled by Miss Harkers plump hand as she used her other hand to squeeze out the fluid. After what felt like hours to Nancy but was only ten seconds, Miss Harker released her.

Nancy felt to the floor moaning, the fluid deforming her head made her shudder and sob. Miss Harker was at the sink washing her hands and her knife.

“You’ll want to button that lip, missy, your screaming has given me an h e double hockey sticks of a headache. You are covered with those things and I’ll cut everyone of them right now if you don’t stop that blathering.”

she said without looking away from her hands and blade as she washed them.

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She turned from the sink still holding up the knife that was beaded with water and shined in the fluorescent light. Nancy cringed and swallowed her breath and made not a sound though her body shook uncontrollably.

Miss Harker fixed a small smile on her before folding the knife and putting it back in her pocket, Nancy cringed back as she walked by and left the bathroom.

Time passed and so did the faces at the Byberry, which had started out as a mental hospital she had found out from a new girl that was there one day and gone the next. Dorothy was gone, her grandmother had finally arrived and took her away. That had been the worse morning since her mommy died, she had woken up and saw Dorothy’s mattress had been rolled up and tucked under the frame. Without thinking Nancy ran as fast as her deformed leg allowed her to the bathroom and climbed a toilet that was just below a window that looked down on the parking lot many feet below.

Hoping but not believing she looked through the gated mesh and felt her heart jump when she saw Dorothy walking with Miss Harker and a tall black woman who had hair so white it glowed in the gloomy fog filled lot.

They spoke only for a moment before Miss Harker waved and headed back to the building, while Dorothy and presumably her grandmother

back to the building, while Dorothy and presumably her grandmother hugged her and began walking towards a brown VW bug. Nancy shook the iron mesh which rattled loudly, she did it again but Dorothy couldn’t hear her.

She felt her stomach ache as the bug started up and slowly began to leave the parking lot, its exhaust coughing out blue smoke as the brown body shuddered. The car turned with the

passenger side facing the window as it made its way to the gate with the booth. Nancy felt a hole in her heart turn into something bigger than an abyss. She watched it and blinked quickly as she saw Dorothy’s face appear in the back window and her hand went up on the glass in a goodbye wave, Nancy had been crying and though she wasn’t positive, it looked like Dorothy was wiping her eyes with her other hand. She felt good for a moment until she saw the man working the security booth.

It was too far away to tell if it was the same man as before. He was wearing coveralls and a black baseball cap. He was far away but Nancy could feel his eyes on her, she continued to look down at him convinced she was mistaken. She felt her stomach turn when he raised his hand looking up at her, and wiggled his two fingers in a way that made Nancy feel uncomfortable. He even appeared to be smiling as he twitched his index and ring fingers, Nancy wasn’t sure what the gesture meant but she could feel the sliminess of it, the horridness of the fingers snake like movement.

Nancy sat down on the toilet and cried, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of Dorthy leaving or the security guards wave. Dorothy had helped Nancy cut off her hair after the abscess on her head was cut in hopes of keeping the wound clean and free of debris. The scar tissue 88 ONCE UPON AN ALTERED TIME

hadn’t broken since first healing though the damage to her scalp had already been done. Her hair stopped growing from the crown of her head to the right side of her scalp. In the back of her head her hair grew in short swatches that looked like she had a been attacked with electric

razor by a drunk. The left side of her scalp had the most hair which she didn’t let Dorothy cut and used the long flap of hair to cover her twitchy deformed eye.

Her body was always wet and hot, her face felt like plastic in some areas that had been heated up and stretched. The skin under her arm from the secretions and burst abscess’ caused a webbing of scar tissue to form making it very painful to raise her left arm above her chest. Not all the abscess’ under her arm were big mushy sacs ready to pop, some were small and red and as hard as a rock. They were usually bright red and didn’t secrete fluid but were still painful to the touch, which made it difficult for Nancy to leave her arm down.

Because of that her left arm was more and more often bunched up and sitting partially on her left breast, the muscles of the arm would sometimes be racked with cramps from its awkward position. Nancy was grateful Dorothy was still around when Aunt Flo made her first appearance, when she saw the blood on her underpants that first time she thought for sure there would be an abscess inside her area.

The menstrual cramps were bad, but that pain was just a spark of flint compared to the raging inferno that was her skin. Parts of her body always felt clammy and unclean, like she had gone swimming in a pond of cold scummy water. Under her arm there was a putrid fishy smell, were skin was folding over itself were scar tissue didn’t form. One night Nancy had grit her teeth and

pulled up a flap of skin that had once been part of an abscess but had burst and saw a pink runny hole the width of her pinky gaping at her underneath.

Fluid began to gurgle out of the hole making a sick slurping sound followed by the stench of decaying flesh. The pain of the act was very great, but it was the almost perfect round hole that made her weep. Her right leg was only half as bad but walking was becoming more than

right leg was only half as bad but walking was becoming more than difficult, there was an abscess in her thigh that she couldn’t see but feel.

It was deep but felt big and buried in a muscle somewhere that wanted to flex when she put her weight on that leg. Things like dressing herself and walking were sometimes a great chore, though she always accomplished it, with no help, not since Dorothy left. That thought brought her back to Paul, she had figured out on her own one night that Paul was gay. It just hit her from nowhere one rainy afternoon not long ago.

She never thought about Paul never having been married or having his own kids, what child would think about such adult things. It had been an off hand comment her mother had made to

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her one summer when they had walked by St. Monica’s church on 17th street in her old neighborhood that woke her up to the truth. The church had white huge stone that was so clean it sparkled and steps on the left and right of the entrance that sat under another set of steps leading up to the stained glass double doors which were opened on that June day.

As they passed by, people dressed in fancy colorful dresses and shiny suits with top hats, began coming out clapping as pair of newly weds exited the church to a shower of rice and cheering. Even her mommy was clapping at the young couple that was making their way to a long white limousine waiting at the curb.

“Mommy, do you think he’ll be nice to her?”

Grace looked down at her daughter who was looking up at her with a serious look.

“What do you mean honey?”

“A girl in my homeroom, her parents got divorced cause her dad would hit her mommy and say mean stuff to her all the time.”

“Oh, well honey not everybody’s mean like that. Your father was never mean.” she said stroking her daughter cheek.

“Oh. How did you know he would be nice to you?” she asked looking at the couple getting in the limousine before looking back up at her.

“Well, I watched how he treated his mommy.”

“Why?” Nancy asked confused.

“Well if a man treats his mother with love and respect, than he’ll treat any woman he loves with love and respect as well. At least that's what I believe.”

“Was he nice to his mommy?”

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“Yes he was and he was very nice to me.”

The limo with the soapy letters stating ‘JUST MARRIED’ on its tinted back window pulled away from the church to more whistles and cheers when Nancy asked a question that caught her off guard.

“Are you and Paul gonna get married?”

The look on her moms face was of discomfort and humor.

“Oh I’m not his type honey. Aren’t those windows lovely?” she said rather quickly as they circumnavigated the gaily dressed crowd.

That was the secret, the reason Paul hadn’t come to rescue her. His Snow White, right? He was a handsome man with out a wife, and her mommy who to Nancy was very pretty was not his type. Though he heard them say I love you to each other on occasion but when ever Nancy heard that, it didn’t sound romantic. It was love, but of a different sort than her mommy and daddy had probably had though she was to young to remember what they were like together.

That was how she realized the reason she was stuck here, Paul was afraid she would rat on him. But in her heart she knew she would never do such a thing, she wished she could see Paul and tell him she would never say anything. If she was being drawn and quartered by the Horses of Rohan or being crucified by the TL she would never tell on him. Too late now, almost three years had passed since they brought her here and never a letter or a visit.

That would sometimes bring a great anger that would tighten her muscles, simultaneously sending great fiery bolts of pain from her left arm and right thigh. What if the TL found out you knew and decided to torture you? Was that why she had been brought here?

Because Paul was gay and she would talk. They could torture you if they thought you were lying. Her friend Amy from had told her about one it day walking home from school.

“They put this weird looking hat on your head, and it has all these little clamps and wires that they plug into this machine and they zap the bad thoughts out of your brain,” Amy had said.

“and if that doesn’t work they cut off your private parts.”

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“Yeah right.” Nancy had said in a small voice.

“For real, I heard my dad telling my mom one night when they thought I was in bed.”

Nancy could do nothing though to contact Paul or even leave the building. She hardly left the dormitory any more, except to use the bathroom or eat in the cafeteria. She dreaded leaving her bed because any time she had to leave she had to walk by Donna who wasn’t always physically mean but could always be counted on for a cutting remark.

“Hey bitch you hiss like a fuckin lizard and now youse look like a T-Rex with your arm, yo.” Donna said holding both her arms to her chest and walking with an exaggerated wobble. “Go wash you stink ass it smells like we having fish tonight.”

Her friends would always cackle and howl with laughter at whatever she said. She was like a leader to the four others, anytime they got a cigarette they got it from Donna. Nancy wondered though who Donna got them from. When Nancy found out how, she felt stupid for ever wondering. Nancy remembered the whole week prior to that night when Donna had told her from her own lips.

Each night that week after lights out Miss Harker checked the beds and every night that particular week she had someone with her, possibly the same person. Nancy would shut her eyes tight and was so afraid she

same person. Nancy would shut her eyes tight and was so afraid she couldn’t put her blanket over her head with out leaving her lower half exposed. Every night Miss Harker and the John would go to Donna’s end of the dormitory.

They spoke in harsh sounding whispers but Nancy could make out some of what they said.

“I want her...” said the John. “...don’t be that way...”

“I said I don’t wanna yo....” said Donna.

It was silent for a few seconds before Donna spoke again a little louder.

“You hurtin me ...aight, aight.”

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“...shh...shh...you little slut...” someone said in a tight voice.

It had happened again in almost the same way the next night, the night after that Donna protested again.

“No, he keep bitin me...”

“Lower your voice....” Miss Harker whispered. “I’ll...”

There was silence for almost a minute before she heard Donna get out of bed and the sound of footsteps followed by the sound of the door opening then closing. On the fifth night it all came out in a flood like the

opening then closing. On the fifth night it all came out in a flood like the fluids of her abscess when cut open. Nancy had been fast asleep when it had started but the sound of Donna crying woke her up.

She opened her eyes and looked at the far end of the the dormitory. The lights were still off, but Nancy could see Donna still lying in bed, Miss Harker stood at the foot of the bed while a man stood at the side of the bed pulling on her blankets. The man looked like he was wearing a hat, but it was too dark to be sure.

“No, fuck off me.” said Donna.

“Be still.” Miss Harker said in a half whisper.

“Get her up, I gave you what I owed.” said the man who kept pulling Donna’s blankets.

“No fuck outta here.” Donna said in a loud voice trying to hold onto her blankets.

“I want her or else I’ll tell.” said the man.

He let go of the blankets and walked to door while Miss Harker followed quickly behind. When the door opened light from beyond it cast a weak glow on the John. It was a man that looked much older than Miss Harker, wearing black coveralls with the gold badge and black cap covering salt and pepper hair with a face that was just past fifty, it was the guard that gave her the lurid wave. Nancy caught just the briefest glimpse of a holstered pistol on his hip.

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“No need, you’ll have her I promise.” she said to the security mans back as he left.

When he left she immediately ran to Donna’s bed, Nancy was surprised at the fat womans quickness.

“No, no...” Donna said beginning to cry.

Miss Harker began slapping at her head though she tried to hide under her blankets, Miss Harker grabbed a handful of Donna’s hair and punched her in her cheek. Nancy heard the meaty smack of her fist and sounded like a hand patting ground chuck. Miss Harker pulled her out of bed and drug her halfway to the bathroom by her hair as she screamed before letting her collapse just in front of Nancy’s bed.

“You clean yourself, and hurry.” Miss Harker said before heading out the same way as the John did.

Donna sobbed to herself as she laid on the floor holding her face, her chin was lightly bathed in her blood. A few of the other girls were sitting up in bed but didn’t speak or approach her. Nancy however limped over to her and offered her her good hand to help her up.

“Get the fuck outta here,” she said in a watery voice as she slowly got up pushing her arm away.

“You lucky, yo know dat? My momma said cigarettes a bad habit to get into, fuckin crack whore knew more than I thought, shit. You lucky you all fucked up lookin. I ain’t no fucking Miss America, neither, just a fat blond wit big titties. A pack a smokes a stroke, 2 for for a bj, half a carton for

wit big titties. A pack a smokes a stroke, 2 for for a bj, half a carton for round the world.” she said without looking at Nancy.

She was still hitching and gasping as she went to the bathroom. She came out a moment later face free of blood and her hair up in a crooked tail, showing a fresh bruise on her cheek which was a deep purple. She walked out the door without a word or a look at anyone.

Nancy never saw Donna again, two of the four girls Donna had hung with had gone a few nights later and had never come back. The week of her thirteenth birthday there was only herself and three other girls, they didn’t speak to her nor did they speak to each other. It was Spring going on Summer but they were rarely let out into the play yard.

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Miss Harker did her bed checks every night still, though there hadn’t been anyone with her since the last of Donna’s crew left. Worrying about someone coming to take her had kept her awake almost as much as the pain from her sickness did. When sleep did come it was always thin and unrestful, though she would have the most vivid dreams and nightmares, there was always the underlying burning pain of her sickness and the impending doom of someone doing sex things to her.

It had happened only once, she was sleeping on her right side were the pain was more bearable and was uncovered because of the heat that night. She felt a large hand caress her backside slowly and gently. Nancy let out a short whine that froze the persons hand. Nancy kept her eyes closed as tight as possible and felt her body shake as her wounds began to ooze.

The man began his slow clockwise rubbing, Nancy whined again and began to cry though her lids were shut tight the tears found their way out.

Nancy gasped as the man gave her bottom a squeeze before letting go.

He was behind her and Nancy could hear him walk around her bed to face her.

face her.

She felt his fingers touch her face and turn it to one side then the other.

Nancy’s tears were flowing like a river though she was quiet as more liquid oozed out of her and burned her flesh, but still more afraid of what this man would do next. He was breathing deeply on her face, his breath was noxious and hot on her skin.

“Shit, you are ugly.” the man said in a slurred voice before walking out of the dormitory.

Nancy didn’t open her eyes but was sure it was the man in the coveralls.

It was clear to her what had happened to Donna and her friends now.

Donna was right, she was lucky. Her body was developing, but the disease had destroyed her beauty, her appeal. That though meant she was useless to him and he could kill her anyway.

Though by this point in her life, Nancy would have welcomed death for the simple reason that she would no longer be in physical pain. When Fall had come, a few more girls had been brought in and the nightly bed check by Miss Harker and her security detail resumed, it was not long after that when Paul finally rescued her.

It was mid October when Nancy awoke to a small abscess growing on her inner right thigh. Though it was the size of a finger nail three or four red lines radiated out of its center just below 95 ONCE UPON AN ALTERED TIME

the skin. They were less the an inch long and felt warm to the touch. By that night the lines had grown another inch.

Nancy touched her forehead and could feel the heat baking through her

Nancy touched her forehead and could feel the heat baking through her fingertips. Although her head was hot her skin felt like it was bathing in cold water even as most of her open wounds secreted their liquid fires she felt coated in ice. The following morning she could do no more than open her eyes and look down at her stomach as the lines continued their journey to her chest.

Once it reaches your heart you’ll die, and she realized she might see her mommy again. The thought brought her a perverse sense of comfort.

She knew the disease could kill her one day, and it appeared it was today. She moved only her eyes and looked towards a window lightly frosted from the evening chill.

The fever made her delirious, she saw the orange light from the parking lot glow through the glass, which began to change colors, orange, to yellow, to white. The dust motes that flew in the shafts of light became as big as basketballs and floated like bubbles on a soft breeze. The weak flimsy gleam of a nearby lamp became a lantern in a window of a cottage in Withywindle, Nancy began to laugh with excitement that she was going to meet Tom Bombadil and hear his wife’s lovely singing, she laughed even though it tore the hole in her cheek wider.

Faces appeared dozens, maybe hundred fast and swirling like water down a drain to fast to pick out many but she saw the ones that mattered most to her. One was her daddy another could have been her mommy.

It’s happening, she thought with a bitter happiness, I’m dying, that’s why mommy and daddy are here.

The faces looked faded as if seen through dirty glass, then Paul’s face suddenly floated above those other faces. Nancy could see him more clearly than she could her parents. He looked different in his face, older or perhaps very tired, though he looked solid and real enough to touch.

His eyes looked glossed over as if he was looking at her through tears, she saw his arms reach out to her and felt her body being lifted and enjoyed the slight breeze on her face from the sudden movement, though it appeared to have scattered the faces of her parents away.

“Paul...” she croaked.

“I’m takin you home, Snow White.” he said in a hoarse whisper.

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She felt a sleepiness come over her that she embraced willingly and was swept away into a dreamless slumber. She awoke some point in time later on a bed she did not know, wearing a clean pair of pajamas that were soft. The heat she had felt on her head and the deep chills were gone. She looked under her pajama top at her stomach and saw the red lines were gone as well.

On her thigh the small abscess that had cause the lines had been cut and cleaned, there was only a slight pinkness to the skin now. The other abscess’ that hadn’t been broken or cut were covered in some of cream the had a medicine smell, some had been applied to her face as well.

She slowly sat up trying not to upset her wounds.

The room was a small bedroom with four drawer bureau on one side and a vanity dresser on the other. Above the bed was a window with a red velvet curtain that was closed, she got up to look out through it when she heard crying. The bedroom door was just barely open, as Nancy limped closer to it she could hear gentle sobbing more clearly.

She opened the door to a large room that was half living room half kitchen with a high ceiling lined with wooden rafters. The kitchen was aqua green and blue tiled, and although the colors were ugly it looked very clean and appeared to have some working appliances. The living

very clean and appeared to have some working appliances. The living room was furnished with a love seat the color of wine, and an oblong coffee table, attached to the wall was a thin screen TV with a thirteen inch display, it was nothing like the big boxy TV’s with knobs on its face.

It looked more like a black picture frame with a sheet of black glass and didn’t appear to have and buttons or knobs to turn it on or change channels.

It was on the love seat were Paul sat with his face buried in his hands while he sobbed. Nancy felt him shudder under her hand when she touched his back. He looked at her and quickly wiped his eyes but he still sobbed.

The last time Nancy had seen him his hair only had a few gray hairs on his head, and his face was always clean shaven and eyes that had a light in them. His hair was now sporadic with white hairs on his head and considerably more on the beard he now wore. His eyes that Nancy always thought looked so bright were dull and surrounded by crows wings under a brow that looked plagued with wrinkles when he frowned.

“I’m so sorry, Nancy. I...I never meant for you...I would’ve adopted you...”

His eyes continued to shed tears, he would seem to gasp for air when ever he looked at her face, not out of disgust but out of self loathing.

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“Paul...”

She said only that and nothing else as she sat beside him and hugged him. He shuddered in her arms but his erratic breathing had stopped as did his tears.

“Did your mom tell you?” Paul asked after he regained himself and smoked a cigarette.

He stood by the kitchen sink flicking his ashes into the drain as he wiped at his eyes with a damp handkerchief.

“No I just figured it out on my own one day. It doesn’t matter, Paul.”

She got up off the couch and limped over to him, seeing it made his eyes get wet again but he held his composure, even as she gave him another hug.

“All that matters is you’re here now, and I’ll never tell on you to those TL

pigs or anyone else.” she said making the word pig sound like a swear.

“Can you do one thing for me, Paul?” she continued.

“Anything.”

“Tell me where we are.”

Paul had filled Nancy in on nearly every detail of what had been going on since her mothers death. She had learned that she was no longer thirteen and a half but fifteen and a half.

“Since your parents had you out of wedlock you couldn’t be born in a hospital and you were never given an actual birth certificate so I had a friend forge one.”

Nancy asked who but Paul said it was best not to name names, what he and his anonymous

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friend had done was highly illegal. The fact now she would be considered fifteen paled to the fact that she was now an adult as well.

“I’m confused, if I’m fifteen how does that make me an adult? I thought that was eighteen.”

“I got you emancipated, that’s why I had birth certificate made up to look like you’re fifteen instead of thirteen. Fifteen is the youngest age for someone to be considered old enough for emancipation in our great Commonwealth.”

The apartment was on a tiny side street called Kimball that branched off from 9th street. Nearby was the 9th street curb markets with its ethnic variety of merchants and grocers. Nancy thought it was perfect. It was a two story building but there were only two apartments on its second floor, one was Nancy’s. The other tenant, Paul said, was down the hall, an old woman that spoke broken English but seemed nice and said hello with her heavy accent when he first bumped into her.

“I held onto your old place for a while, but rent went up so I boxed everything I could and put it my place until I found another place for you.

It’s not a great neighborhood but it’s a short bus ride to my office.”

“Paul, I love it, but how am I supposed to pay rent?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

He had also bought her clothes and food as well as other basic items.

Paul went into her bedroom and came back out with a large box nearly overflowing with books.

“Almost forgot.” he said putting the box on the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t think I had this many books.”

“No, I’ve been adding to your collection. Some of the local libraries lost funding and had a going out of business sale. I just bought what they had to sell so you got a little bit of everything."

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Nancy picked through some of the paperbacks and hardcovers and found a copy of The Hobbit, she felt a warmth she hadn’t known for a while fill her. Beneath that was a familiar black hand held with an LED screen.

Nancy let out a little giggle as she picked the device out. Mnemonic The Wretchhog was what caused the government to outlaw video games as sedition in the eighties.

Mnemonic was an animal hybrid built by humans to create a super soldier, he turns on his captors and kills them and escapes the lab he was created in to murder all humans. The game was mostly knocking down buildings and crushing American soldiers and civilians into a bloody mess with the animals signature rolling attack, the ferocious hybrid kills his way to the US capital and murders the president who puts on a mecha suit in the final battle. Nancy though it was the coolest game ever.

“What’s this?” Nancy asked.

She held a gray plastic box the size of her had with a thin band of screen on one side. At one of its ends was a rubber button slightly contoured.

Nancy pressed the button and was greeted by a womans voice singing Kum Ba Yah, the voice of the women would fade and sometimes go out for a few seconds. Nancy pressed the button again and the singing stopped.

“It’s a radio player, there’s another one in there but it’s kind of falling apart. It uses an open WiI to get it’s signal.”

“WiI?”

“Wireless intranet, when you go outside most of the utility poles on the bigger streets are having routers built into them. The music won’t fade and go in and out like that once the city put up more of them.”

“Do libraries normally have radio players?” Nancy asked.

“No, no. I got this stuff from a bootlegger, including the TV. Your old movie player is in there too, I grabbed you some new movie cartridges some music one too. I know these are just things, but I want you to be comfortable and happy until...” he almost said until the end but didn’t

“you’re healthier.”

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Nancy had picked up on his pause and looked up at him, but smiled as best she could despite the pain it caused her face. The silence was awkward for a moment but Nancy spoke anyway.

“Did you take me to your office first? I don’t remember much. How’s Nurse Suzie?”

Paul grimaced slightly and sighed.

“She had to move upstate, her mother broke her hip in a fall and there isn’t anyone else to take care of her. The only thing I’ll be short on for you is medicine, in your bathroom are some at home surgical kits and I put in a medicine cabinet. It’s all antibiotics and steroids, and if the twitching under your eye is constant take the Gabapentin, don’t come to my office until you get a letter from my office or you wont be seen.”

“I don’t understand, mom never had to do any of that before.”

Paul nodded and said: “ I know, the nurse, my new nurse is a TL member and her husband is a police officer. She counts the highlighters and the TP rolls as often as the meds. If you don’t have an appointment slip she won’t let me see them, I’m within my right to tell her to knock it off, but ...”

“But what? Do you think she knows?”

She didn’t think Paul would respond, she doubted he rarely talked out loud about his homosexuality, probably not since mom died would have been her guess. After a moment he lit a cigarette before continuing.

“No, she doesn’t. But the way she looks at me, I feel like a bug under a microscope when she looks at me. I only gave away what I was allowed to, like the surgical kits.”

“I don’t think I could use that thing, Paul.” Nancy said covered in goosebumps at the idea of self surgery.

“Honey, you may have too if you have an abscess and no appointment slip. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you from having to do it yourself, I promise."

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Nancy limped back over to the couch and sat down facing the thin screen TV. No more rabbit ears either it seemed.

“How painful is walking? I can get you a cane.”

Nancy nodded but said nothing. She marveled that she was now a legal adult, she certainly felt like an old lady at times with her constant pain and sleep that was always thin and unpleasant. Now she would have to start using a cane like an old lady.

“I’ve got to head to the office today, I’ll stop back tonight and make us dinner. OK.”

“It’s a date.”

She got up and hugged him and tried to walk him to the door.

“No, just sit and relax.” he said handing her the TV remote. “If you feel nausea or feverish take two capsules of Bactrim.”

He kissed her on the forehead and said: “I love you, Snow White.”

“I love you, too.”

He smiled a sad smile down at her before leaving. When Nancy was alone she turned on the TV to the profile of a man past middle age with wavy brown hair being interviewed by and old man sitting across from him. Nancy watched for a few moments but got up and went into her bedroom.

Paul said it wasn’t much, but to Nancy it felt safe and she had no problem calling it home. She walked over to the large dresser and opened one of the drawers and Nancy felt her heart tug at seeing her mom’s striped hoody with its soft gray fur lining. She took it out and rubbed the lining on the undamaged side of her face and could smell the light flowery scent of her mothers hair.

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All at once the memories of her mother flooded into her mind like a broken dam. The crying hit her so hard and fast she collapsed on the bed as her legs came unhinged and tried to spill her to the floor. She suddenly growled with anger and squeezed her arm close to her side and felt a rush of fire as the pain made her shake.

The anger died as quickly as the tears had come, fluid began to drip down her torso eroding away her youth, her life, her beauty. She cried, wishing for her mommy but after many nights of crying herself to sleep she realized its futility and got up off her bed and limped to the bathroom to find a rag. This wasn’t a fairy tale world, wishes don’t come true now matter how unfair life becomes.

She didn’t want to go through the agony of a shower at the moment and thought maybe she would try having a warm bath later instead. The bathroom was a small white tiled room with a tiny window that let in sunshine making the room look brighter. Under the sink was a cabinet with bath towels and wash clothes and a few cleaning items. She wiped the ooze from her skin ignoring the deformed face above the sinks mirror.

She limped out to the couch and sat with a painful sigh as she adjusted her legs trying to stretch. On TV the middle age man was still being interviewed. The screen showed only his handsome face and a smile that was winning, a caption of his name beneath his face identified him as John Noah CEO Noah Real Estate

[John Noah: I mean if you look at how there has been a great reduction almost a seventy percent drop in this city of violent crimes but there is still a greater problem. People are scared of infiltration from Southern California, in the New England states now they’ve formed a Union and can destroy our own. People are afraid the criminals on those streets, my old neighborhood could be over run like out west and in New England.]

[Interviewer: Seventy percent isn’t good?]

The screen then showed both men. The man doing the interview wore a charcoal suit with a blue tie and looked the part of a reporter. John Noah however wore a suit that looked like the color of midnight with tie of a slightly lighter shade and very elegant shoes that looked more expense than the interviewers entire suit.

[John Noah: no and the reason why is the police are the ones getting killed instead. There needs to be better protection for our police. Look at

killed instead. There needs to be better protection for our police. Look at the facts, Move is gone correct?]

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[Interviewer: Correct.]

[John Noah: The police did it undermanned and under funded and they died by the hundreds some years when they were still terrorizing the city.

Over fifty officers alone killed the day West Philly was destroyed. I’ve been the only one trying to resurrect the neighborhood and have been fighting to get it done. Fighting against the Mayor, the TL, even though I’ll be creating more jobs than this city has seen since the annihilation of Vietnam.]

[Interviewer: The TL obviously has some apprehension about a casino opening in the city, they are afraid that allowing a jurisdictional area for drinking and gambling could allow for things that are most definitely a no no to their group, they say Philadelphia is plagued with speakeasy’s though,]

[John Noah: Prohibition is a double edge sword, the late great Senator Capone said as much.]

[Interviewer: other things such as promiscuity, sex crimes, interracial coupling they said it could lead to a gateway...]

[John Noah: Yes yes, but the casino resides on Petty’s Island a wasteland that I am turning into showplace and the fact that it is on an island and will be invite only for all patrons and let me make it clear here and now, it’s not a surprise that the TL and I or even the mayor and I for that matter don’t see eye to eye on this issue but I am making a promise to all of them now that this project will increase revenue for our city ten

fold. Revenue that will benefit the police, the TL and more importantly the citizens of this city....]

[Interviewer: We’ll be right back]

The studio lights went down a little and there was a short babble of low talk as people began running back and forth.

“Three minutes, Mike.” a curly haired stage hand wearing large black ear phones said to the interviewer.

“OK, Brian. I want to thank you again, Mr Noah, for joining me today. I think you do great things for the city.”

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“Of course, Mike. You were always the best of them. I appreciate the fact your News Manager is always looking the other way when it comes to my brother. I love him dearly but he is always being irresponsible.”

An asshole, was more like it, John thought, but didn’t say. He was family and his underworld connections and associates helped. And while his twin brother Tom spent his formative years

getting educated at Eastern State, John had used that time free from his brother to pursue a formal education.

“Mr Noah, we all have problems with family, and the citizens know that.

This city loves you, and that's what pisses off the TL.”

John knew he was right but nodded as if this were news to him. He had been called South Philly’s favorite son and has on numerous years won

citizenship awards from the local police and government, and the press generally loved him. He was a rags to riches story, as far as everyone else figured, he hadn’t grown up rich but hadn’t been dirt poor either.

His father was dirt poor though, spent years repairing electronics like audio cartridges before they replaced vinyl and early model digital cameras. However it was guns and explosives that he built to earn his wages real wages. It was working for the Letuzzi crime family were he was hired for his bomb making skills.

John’s brother Tom had made use of that skill and his connections to destroy West Philly, though it was Move that got the blame. Yes it had been a strategic bombing alright, after the fires all that was left was vast empty land. It was that year John began to take hold of the city slowly but steadily.

“Thank you, Mike. I care about this city and it’s people.”

“You know I know I am not the first to suggest this but have you ever considered running for political office?”

“One minute!” the stage hand cried.

Laughing John said: “Well the idea has been proposed to me, but I prefer capitalism over politics...for now.”

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That was the standard answer for people who more and more often brought the idea up. He had the money to run a campaign, he didn’t have the TL in his pocket like so many other groups but he had name recognition. His humble beginnings in the mid seventies owning just few hundred square feet of real estate to becoming one of the richest men in

hundred square feet of real estate to becoming one of the richest men in country with a number of skyscrapers and high end apartment complexes with his name on them, and that he didn’t forget the neighborhood he grew up in that was what made people love him more, he embraced his roots.

Though he embraced it the way a spider embraces a fly in its web. He used that love and his natural ability to engage people, and they trusted him because he was a neighborhood guy. When the good Catholic whites in South Philly decried gun violence, he would send out people to provide refreshments or call in a favor to one of the local news affiliates or maybe even make a cameo with a bull horn decrying lack of police on the streets.

The guns that shed so much blood were mostly from a New Jersey based corporation, that he was a secret majority share holder of, that bought the governments surplus of weapons made for the American armed forces and resold them to the local police force as well as their criminal counter parts, but their serial number were always filed off before sale to that group. And when there was a surge in gun violence he got the added bonus of going on TV to shake his head and wag his finger at the mayor for the violence against the citizenry. The bombs that had been rocking different parts of the city for almost twenty years were built by his employees in another location in New Jersey, same corporation, who had been told it was being made for the National Guard stationed at Fort Dix.

He used it all to push out his enemies, and if that didn’t work he could easily play the other side and have the police do it for him. He wasn’t police commissioner, but Commissioner Williams had a drug problem and a tendency to grab ass teenage girls, he knew that because his brother Tom had video of the man smoking crack with a fifteen year old girl. As he acquired real estate gathered information slowly building connections from the bottom up.

After his brother got out of jail he was already a millionaire with a fistful of cops to use at his disposal. He currently had at least one cop on his secret payroll from every district there were also the dozen or so detectives and their direct superiors with either a dirty secret or wanted what anyone wants in this great capitalist empire, money. He had loaned money secretly to many great local men that had come to him begging as more buildings in the city bore his last name.

In the immortal words of President Rockefeller, prosperity is the foundation of the American dream. And the late President was right.

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“Well, Mr Noah you’d have my vote.”

“Thank you, Mike.”

“Five seconds...”

The stage had pointed to the Mike.

“Welcome back...

John left the studio an hour later through the back doors to avoid people.

It was a softball interview, the easy kind, and he always enjoyed talking about himself. The black Lincoln stretch sat in the alley, his driver had immediately jumped out to open the door when the boss came out.

“Thank you, Lou.”

He got into the car thinking about the interview and feeling good, he was known through out the city for his mega real estate deals and his charismatic way around people. Every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter he gave out thousands of hams and turkeys in the poorest neighborhoods of the city. He could afford to give out so much, he was believed to be worth between ten and twenty million dollars. It was much more.

“Where to next boss?” said his driver Louie.

It was closer to a quarter billion in actuality if he were to liquidate everything on a good day, but that wasn’t just the real estate. John Noah was also an anonymous majority share holder in a number of other ventures, including the golden goose that is Liberty Pharmaceutical, he bought the majority shares from a southern gentleman who was eager to retire and was selling at a cut throat price years ago.

The only thing odd about the sale was that the southerner sought him out about it, he hadn’t ever met him but spoke to him on a cellular and had the paper work faxed to his secretary. He had spoken to him one last time after the deal was finalized and asked this gentleman why he was giving all to him for such a low price.

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“Just for fun.” he said in a country drawl before hanging up.

Another of his ventures was black market electronics. He had Chinese slaves on Arch street building hand held gaming devices (much to the Chinatowns crime family’s disgust), Radio Players, Movie Players, cartridges, and the latest mini cameras. There was one camera that had been designed by a couple of Canadian hackers called a Net Cam. It was a black spherical object with a tiny lens on its front, built with a WiI router

for Intranet access, it was also wireless and could fit into a mans pocket.

It was one of these little balls that recorded the Commissioner’s crack binge. He had to hire Canadians because American law made it a crime to learn computer code under the Citizens Seditions act of 1969.

“Let’s go by Petty’s Island.”

Lou nodded and pulled out from the studio’s alley into Saturday traffic.

The day was still early and the cars were few and far between. They drove onto a larger avenue where there was more traffic building up behind a delayed red light. The Lincoln slowed to a crawl and stopped in front of a Korean grocery store.

The store front had a large showroom window with dozens of ads of many sizes covering the glass front. Some ads were in English, most were written in the proprietors home tongue. Though John knew the family running the store was Korean, they put him in mind of the Chinese families on Arch street. They were a lot tougher than the Letuzzi bosses and filled with a lot more ethnic pride.

He might be able to go out and hit the entire Letuzzi clan at once, and reign in the other wops, but those gooks, as his brother Tom called them, would sooner light themselves on fire that work for a white man. It would take nothing short of a miracle to keep the them in line no matter how many times the swat teams raided there opium dens.

They also ran guns and hookers and brought over cheep merchandise from their mother country and pawn it off as the straight goods that John’s people were selling. If it hadn’t been for Liberty Pharmaceuticals, John would have been hard pressed to push as hard as he could against the gooks. It costs money to clean up the streets the right way, especially

the gooks. It costs money to clean up the streets the right way, especially when you were footing the bill.

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He was the reason police deaths had gone up and crime had gone down, though violence still was apart of life in the city. But it had still improved drastically since Move had been wiped out.

He thought back to that May afternoon and smiled. He was in his downtown office at the time when the straw broke the camels back and a riot was happening. The reason the riot happened was still up for debate to this day, but there had been an undercover cop working as a member of Move and had kidnapped James Africa, Move’s leader as the chaos unfolded.

‘got him’ his twin Tom texted from his cellular.

John had his driver take him to a subway service station on Olney avenue as he sent out a mass text message to the half dozen of his people set up at various locations in West Philly to be ready. It was a quick trip and when he stepped out of his car, a gas works maintenance truck quickly pulled beside the Lincoln, that was being driven by an undercover cop dressed in coveralls with a belt of tools that looked new.

There was a uniformed cop sitting beside him who quickly jumped out and opened the door for John.

“Sir.” he said as he climbed in beside him in the trucks cab.

“Lets go.” John said.

The white truck turned and went behind the service station and down a private alley way behind 15th street that was gated off at the north end. A

private alley way behind 15th street that was gated off at the north end. A man in similar coveralls and a belt of new tools was opening the gate and revealed a large maw of darkness behind it, with an ancient yellowing sign that said service tunnel and another sign below that shouted a mute warning of avoiding the third rail.

They drove into the dark tunnel and began bouncing up and down on the tracks just below the truck. The first few minutes were rough but the driver turned off from the subway tracks and followed a tunnel on a flat surface that slowly veered west. The tunnel was dark even with the head lights blazing and high beams on.

After ten minutes the bright white lights of fluorescent bulbs shone in the distance, John could see the silhouette’s of a few people standing. The tunnel ended in a large cavernous room that was wall to wall blueprints of the many subway and sewer tunnels just below the city. The truck stopped and idled next to large black ORV with tinted windows and a municipal license plate.

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Against the far wall were large gray pipes with the letters PGW stenciled in white spray paint, one of the large pipes was fitted with a bright red valve. There were five members of a swat team as well as the undercover officer who had caught James Africa who was sitting on the floor. His left arm was cuffed to one of the smaller pipes.

He was slumped to his side and looked like a child’s discarded baby doll from the awkward angle of his cuffed arm, his body twitched from as he began to cough. The brown skin of his face was made darker by the bruise of his broken nose, his face looked like a purplish blue butterfly hand been painted on his face by a shaking hand.

“Mr. Africa.” John said pleasantly as he approached the man.

James’ head lifted slightly at that voice, he had only ever spoken to his brother Tom but the voice was eerily similar.

“Fucking Luddite.” James sneered through his mouth that was short many teeth and lips painted red with blood.

John laughed.

“Mr. Africa,” John said amiably. “you were warned repeatedly about rioting and causing disturbances. Wasn’t it enough you destroyed the symbol of this city’s freedom?”

“Ha,” James said with no humor and spit a blood filled loogie between John’s legs. “fuckin cracker freedom. We never set no bombs for them. I blow up the pig crackers but not no cracker bell. They wont sell us no seeds for food, we smash they white devil face in, we ain’t got no bombs anymore than we got shoes.”

“Now, Mr. Africa” John said in a tone that suggested they were having a friendly talk. “that’s the problem. You’re pissing in the devil’s Cheeri-Oats, and I am the devil. You might have been able to convince my brother you and your riff raff of niggers are just trying to survive with all the petty shit you do to keep West Philly uninhabitable for the working white man. But today that stops, and when the fires go out and you and your African brothers and sisters are nothing but ashes in the wind people will celebrate and not even the most compassionate TL members would piss on the flames to stop the burning.”

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James listened to with a disbelieving ear but felt a tight ball of terror creep into his stomach at John’s open and friendly demeanor. There were cops all around and they hadn’t arrested him, they just beat him around then put a sack over his head and took him to this place. James tried to ignore the sense of great doom filling him up.

“You a crazy cracker,” he said with a laugh that sounded weak. “you gonna kill us all?”

“Yes.” John said without a smile or hesitation.

John nodded to one of the swat officers who taped an object to the pipe just above Africa’s head. His eyes had gone all white when the officer walked away and saw the device had a screen that was counting down the time.

“This neighborhood will be washed clean in a river of blood and flames.”

John said walking away.

James sat below the bomb breathing more erratically as the officers began walking away. He started to pull on the arm cuffed to the pipe.

“Ya all crackers can leave me here!” he said in high voice with eyes bugging out in panic.

He banged the cuff fast and loud making a deathly echoing rattle that fell on deaf ears. Both vehicles left the tunnel that was filled with frightened echoes of James Africa. John was taken promptly to his car as the black ORV headed towards West Philly.

“Where to, boss?”

“Overbrook.”

Without another word Lou drove north a few blocks and then turned west on Route 1 bound for Route 30 which ran right through the Overbrook neighborhood. On the corner of Woodbine and Drexel road was an abandoned three story brownstone house with a flat roof, beside the house was another black ORV.

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This end of the road had been deserted but by the time the bombs went off it would be filled with evacuees. The house sat alone in a grass filled lot that was once the foundations for other homes that stood there decades ago. Lou pulled in behind the black ORV along side the brownstone.

A ladder had been put up behind the house’s back yard that extended all the way to the roof. John was over forty but climbed the yellow aluminum steps quickly as if he’d just turned twenty. Although the house was abandoned, the roof was strong.

As John reached the top he saw Commissioner Williams standing at the roof’s edge with a pair of binoculars on his face looking into the west. A number of helicopters were circling the center of the riot, mostly police but a few news choppers as well, which John was counting on.

Williams didn’t notice John until he was beside him, and jumped a little when he heard his voice.

“Lovely day. What are you doing about the rioters, Fred?”

“Do? I can’t make a move on this, you know that. They have hostages.”

“So they say.” John countered.

“I can’t negotiate with terrorists, not if they’re holding people.”

“You know, Fred,” John said taking the binoculars from the commissioner and peering through them himself briefly before returning them.

“sometimes you have to take the bull by the horns. Charge the enemy when he refuses to move out of the way.”

“But the mayor...”

“The mayor,” John responded curtly “is busy getting his knob polished by a tranny hooker in a motel room in New Jersey. We need action and we can’t wait any longer. They’ve staked a claim on the grocery store, all of them. Send in the cavalry and wipe them out once and for all, Commissioner.”

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Williams mouth felt dry and his tongue seemed to big for him to speak.

Members of Move were always armed and would kill without hesitation, police and hostage, before surrendering.

“It could be a massacre, we have no idea if they’re really all in there or not...”

not...”

“Massacre?!” John said with his head cocked slightly. “What do you suppose leaving those Move niggers alone may cause? They have caused a deadly cancer that has riddled the city with malignant tumors.

And the only way to properly fight cancer is with with extreme measures.

The police are the chemotherapy, so take care of it, Fred. You might wind up a hero in the end.”

John walked back to the ladder and before going down he said: “And we wont be requiring federal assistance, am I clear, Fred?”

The Commissioner turned back to John worried but slightly nodded agreement.

“Have a nice day, Commissioner.”

If the feds did decide to send in the Guard he didn’t really expect Williams to stop them, however a desperate man can be a great asset at times.

And John didn’t expect the federal government could connect all the dots as they were as incompetent at the state and municipal levels and it would only slow down his plan to rebuild there not stop it if the Guard did show up. And a significant loss of police to a terrorist bombing that was going to be bigger and deadlier than the one that destroyed Independence Hall would make even the man currently sitting in the Oval Office take notice.

It wasn’t vital that he send in the police before the bomb goes off but it would certainly bolster public attitude if lots of police were killed, he would loose some financially but there would be long term gains for him if it did come to occupation. He hadn’t been bluffing about the mayor, though he didn’t know for sure if the hooker was a tranny, he wanted to goad Williams into making a move quickly. He got into the limo and sent a text

Williams into making a move quickly. He got into the limo and sent a text to his brother and the others he had positioned around the neighborhood with just one word: GO.

And Williams had sent in the cavalry just as the first explosion went off and shook the city to its center in more ways than one, John considered it a miracle the National Guard didn’t show up with an order suspending habeas corpus. He thought back to that day as Lou drove off the Delaware expressway onto the road that brought him to Petty’s Island.

The wild forest like land

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that was mostly scrub brush and diseased oak was bulldozed and asphalted while civil engineers added another half mile of land to the island giving it a more square shape.

The casino, which was going to be called Black Beards Cove because the infamous pirate had actually visited the island, was just a wide foundation and some scaffolds but within eighteen months would be fully operational. However that didn’t mean they would be opening then, the TL would be fighting him tooth and nail because of the drinking alone.

This place on the surface would look much different than his casino in West Philly, which was mostly video poker machines a large bingo/keno parlor and an open bar for gamblers only,John had promised there wouldn’t be any prostitution on the island either, though he would have his brother make it available under an alternately titled service, which was not available in his West Philly establishment.

Nor was there a cage fighting arena in West Philly, behind the hotel would be an indoor arena that can seat five thousand for boxing, live music, and cage fighting. The same hackers that had designed his Net Cam were currently working on a larger version to broadcast from the arena via Intranet to the casinos hotel TV’s and maybe one day directly to peoples homes for a fee. John had come up with a similar idea for his

West Philly casino to have movies played into the hotel rooms TV’s by charging a fee on a per view basis, if most movies hadn’t been prohibited by law it might have made a large profit.

And building the casino had been a walk in the park compared to on the island. After the bombing most of the people were still in shock, but less than a week later he had a team of

bulldozers plow it all over to start a new. When the reporters asked him what he was doing, he gave them a quote that made the Daily News headline: Healing the city.

Park West Casino opened that fall and had been pouring in money everyday since. Black Beards was going to be center piece for the city.

The cove would have all the games you might find out of country including Black Jack, Roulette, Craps, none of that nigger alleyway shit either the cove would be high rollers. He told Mike that Black Beards would be invite only, meaning anyone with money would be invited on the island.

However this casino would have a minimum for gambling unlike Park West, Black Beards would cater to those that wanted to live large. The car stopped at the scaffolding were a 200 ton crane with a bright yellow arm that sat upon a flatbed was moving a large steel pole that was a story tall. John stepped out and was greeted with shouts of howdy, and hi boss, from the hard hatted men looking over blue prints of the high rise hotel that would be standing here soon.

He looked out over the Delaware river and back towards the city, a grin slowly forming on his

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face. He thought about Mike’s question again, about holding public office and his grin became a full smile. He wasn’t sure he’d be content with being mayor of this city, governor might be more to his style.

He had no official political affiliation, though because of his financial position he would be right at home with the BNP. That was fine to him, the GOP was a dinosaur now. If the GOP was lucky, it might be grandfathered out of government, unlike the Democratic party which was outlawed as a front for communism back in the sixties.

Though those things were not John’s concern, regardless of which party he’d join his name recognition would draw the voters on both sides. He knew what voters on both sides of the aisle wanted the most though, security. Being robbed and having no home and being told that that was the way the world worked and there was no one to blame.

That’s where John would come into the conversation, usually on TV, acting as disgusted and as frustrated as the people who rode a Septa line at five thirty in the morning to a low paying job to make rent. He would say off hand comments during more lively interviews about the corruption of government or the ineptitude of the city council to appropriate enough money for the public schools. He knew what was pissing the poor people off and how to get them to ring their hands and shake their fists when ever he needed.

He was usually a direct cause of their miseries, his brother ran the guns, drugs, booze and women in the city, instigating gang warfare between the wops and the gooks. That was also the reason John and his brother had not been seen together in public for years. Outside his inner 110

circle, it was believed he and his brother had a falling out and had never reconciled after he was released from prison which was almost true, he publicly rebuked his twin, while in private he embraced him and welcomed him home.

“Hey baby bro, what you got on your mind?” Tom asked when he saw his

“Hey baby bro, what you got on your mind?” Tom asked when he saw his brother for the first time since out of jail.

“I want it all, Tom. And you can help me to get it all.”

Between his brothers brutal street tactics and Johns will over the commissioner he wielded more power in this city than the mayor already.

John Noah had his sights set on something much higher but for now he was willing to let his fortunes grow.

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Nancy stood at the window of her living room watching the snow fall in watery flakes on Christmas eve. The snow didn’t cover the ground with white, it simply melted into the concrete pavements and would ice over by midnight. It was as close to a white Christmas as you got in a city that sat at the bottom of a valley.

On the TV was a promo for a new episode of Gunsmoke followed by a Christmas themed Royal Crown cola commercial. It showed Santa in his traditional red suit wiping sweat of his brow as kids jumped on his lap, then a buxom brunette dressed as one of his elf’s in a short red skirt appears, and winks at the viewer before bending over showing her considerably long legs to grab a bottle of RC buried to its neck in ice, getting the attention of Santa who stands up to rush over to the big chested elf who stands up with the icy bottle in hand to keep Santa from doing whatever the commercial was trying to imply. Pigs, Nancy thought to herself as she looked back out into the night.

“Hey Snow White, Merry Christmas.” Paul said coming in through the front door.

He carried a gaily wrapped box with a bright red ribbon the was damp and flat from the snow outside in one hand and a large black umbrella that was half coated with ice and dripping. His beard was frosted and

that was half coated with ice and dripping. His beard was frosted and looked very white.

“Merry Christmas, Paul. You look a little like Santa.” Nancy said with a chuckle.

He laughed brushing the frost away. “Here you go.”

He handed her the present which she thought was a book from its shape and size thought it felt lighter.

“Thank you, Paul. Is it a book?”

“Open it and see.”

It wasn’t a book but a movie cartridge, in an old clamshell container which was similar in shape to a book. It was the original animated movie Snow White movie, from the thirties or forties. On the cartridge was the Schlesinger Studio’s logo and the movie title. She had a few of the other princess movies the studio made but Snow White was the first ever and the hardest to find.

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“Thank you, I love it.” she said giving him a kiss and a hug.

It had been a little over a year since Paul saved her from the Byberry, she was fourteen though her birth certificate said sixteen but felt physically older. Her pain was still constant and abscess’ would appear sometimes often on her body, slowly eroding her flesh and her health.

She constantly had a low grade fever and was on many different

antibiotics and steroids, which had caused weight gain mostly to her lower body.

Many nights after her cool showers she would look at the white doughy flesh instead of the scar tissue surrounding her left breast or the vile liquid that would seep from wounds if the water was too warm. She looked at herself an saw a old woman, frightful and haggish looking, a witch. There were days when she felt OK, or well enough to go outside and take a walk though Paul was not so enthused. Even though she only ventured out during the day, Paul was wary of her going out.

“You’re OK with me going out to your office for an appointment. Are you afraid I’ll scare people?” Nancy said bitterly at the time.

“No,” he said looking to Nancy shocked at her words. “I don’t want someone...taking advantage of you.”

He said the last part blushing a little.

“I can’t spend the rest of my life watching TV and reading in this apartment, besides Paul, I don’t think I’m some pigs idea of a hot date.”

she said vehemently.

Paul seemed to shake at her words, he had never asked her if anyone had done something sexual to her while at the Byberry. She thought he didn’t ask about that because she thought he saw her the way she saw herself. But he surprised her with his fatherly love.

“Hey, don’t talk like that.” he said coming to her and hugging her gently.

“You are beautiful, Snow White.”

If he had asked she might have told him, but he never did ask and Nancy was fine about that. She just as soon forget her time at the Byberry ever happened, though she did miss Dorothy and hoped she was happy in Haiti.

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Nancy gave Paul his present a card she bought at a nearby Rite Aid, the only money she ever had came from Paul. He began giving her just a few bucks every couple of days when she put her foot down about never going out. Sometimes it was just a walk around the neighborhood, once in a while she could take a walk around the block without her cane if the abscess in her thigh wasn’t too inflamed.

It was a pain filled existence for them both, it was physical for Nancy but emotional for Paul. He always looked anxious and was coughing with a regularity when ever he lit up a cigarette. Nancy had seen Paul’s hands shake whenever he held a cigarette, making the smoke on its ember tip zig zag. She had met his new nurse, an white haired thing named Matilda.

She was tiny almost comically so, looking barely five feet tall Nancy thought she looked short enough to be one of Tolkien’s Dwarfs. Her face was bunched with wrinkles and a tiny mouth with little red liver lips that was always frowning. Her stark white nurses outfit contrasted brightly with her black TL armband. The first time she met Matilda, she felt the same kind of vibes from Miss Harker and shivered internally.

She had even cut Nancy’s appointment short by entering his inner office abruptly and curtly telling Paul he had another patient waiting treatment before giving Nancy an unfriendly stare as she closed the door without waiting for his reply.

“Bitch.” Nancy said.

It had been a difficult and pain filled road she and Paul had been through.

Nancy tried not to think about it as Paul held her. On TV the news played.

[News Anchor: ...council members are voting on a ban on the use of hoverboards within city limits after a record year of traffic death involving children and teens using them in the streets. The ban is expected...]

“You ever been on one, Paul?”

“Me? Love, I can’t balance a check book let alone proper weight distribution.”

Nancy laughed at the idea of seeing Paul or any adult, trying to quickly wiggle the board to

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generate enough energy so you could get off the ground. It took a lot of energy and muscle that seemed to be in the province of only the children and young teens which was the items best demographic. Nancy couldn’t imagine herself on it either, the idea of floating through the air, only a half foot of course, made her stomach tickle excitedly.

The feeling of wind through your hair and hip shotting around a corner with enough speed to high spin up a wall. She had been walking around the block just the other day and saw a young boy of thirteen or so riding one, it was purple with a skull painted on its underside. It was a cold day but he wore no shirt, his brown skin was covered with goose bumps.

He had been holding on to the back of a Septa bus that was turning a

He had been holding on to the back of a Septa bus that was turning a corner as he let go gliding through the air quickly, Nancy could hear the the boards hover engine, a sound like wax paper being blown through a comb. The young boy turned just the slightest as he went over the curb and lifted the board up as he came to a brick wall of five feet in height.

Instead of hitting the wall, the young kid glided up it cutting down his speed.

When he reached the top he simply grabbed the top of the wall and pushed back from it to land softly on the ground.

“Way to do it young blood!” shouted some one.

The boy just grinned slightly before kicking his board up and walking with it instead of riding. Nancy had felt exhilarated at the graceful beauty of the black kid on his hoverboard. It was always difficult for Nancy to smile without some pain, but Paul could always see when she was sad.

“You OK?”

“Yes, I just wish I didn’t hurt so much.”

“You want to watch Snow White?” Paul asked trying to brighten Nancy up.

“Isn’t it a little silly? I’m watching cartoons meant for kids that are my age even though I’m an adult.”

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“I know Nancy. It’s Christmas be of...”

“Be of good cheer. I’m trying Paul. I try to be of good cheer while my mother and father are dead. While my body is ugly and I never sleep more the a couple of hours at a time from the pain.”

She walked back over the living room window, the fat watery snow flakes had stopped falling. On the street just below a slow moving quiet march was going by. It was a TL march, rows and rows of it’s junior league was at its head, they were dressed in their winter uniform pea coats that was a navy blue with a black armband stitched on the right sleeve. Each passing column had a flag at its head.

The first was the stars and stripes with its usual cluster of forty five stars, followed by the city flag and flags for the TL and The Christian League also known as TCL, which was an off shoot of the former KKK chapters that were once based in the city. Some carried banners for the BNP’s hope for the White House next fall, she couldn’t recall his name but knew his face from TV. Other banners were more derogatory, one was a fairly well done drawing of a soldier crushing a rainbow daisy and a black fist with the caption: Help Support The War On Faggots

“My body maybe freakish and ugly, but that to me is disgusting Paul.”

She said pointing out the window with her good arm.

Paul stood next to her by the window feeling frightened but he led her gently from the window, putting her arm down before some looked up.

“How can you be of good cheer.”

“Because I’ve got you.” he said leading her to the couch.

She sat down as Paul put the cartridge in the player and then went into the kitchen to put a jiffy pop on the stove.

“They won’t let you be in love Paul. What good is it to live if you’re not allowed to love. Have you ever loved someone?”

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He turned away from the stove and looked at her with a sad sort of smile.

He wanted to tell her but had always been cautious more for Alf’s sake than his own anymore. They hardly got to see or speak anymore. He went to the couch and sat next to Nancy and put his arm around her, she leaned back on his chest feeling comforted by his heart beat.

“The lawyer who helped me, his name is Alfred, but most people call him Alf, he is or we were involved.”

“You don’t see him anymore?”

“No, he’s married, to a woman obviously.” he said with a nervous laugh the scared Nancy. “He bent some rules and helped me get your birth certificate changed.”

“Do you love him?”

“I think so, I’ve never been close to anyone that way. I always tried to make him feel better when he was depressed, I don’t know if that means I love him but I care about him.”

“Was he depressed because he was married?”

“Yes, well, no. I think he’s depressed because he doesn’t believe what he is, it’s the life he leads. His life is a lie, a lie that could be the end of everything if it were found out.”

“Are you depressed?” Nancy said looking up at Paul.

He was through lying to her and wanted her to know.

“Sometimes, but I accept it. Alf, he never really accepted who he was, that’s why he got married to a former beauty queen and is still trying to have kids.”

“It’s not fair.” she asked.

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“Sometimes life or love is unfair. He’ll always have to be with someone else he went too deep into his lie. Popcorn’s ready.”

Later after Paul left Nancy laid on the couch as the movie played over again. Not watching it but recalling the earlier conversation about love.

She got up from the couch and went to the kitchen to turn on the radio player, sometimes late at night if she put the player high enough she could get music from FAR stations.

FAR was the initials that stood for First Amendment Radio, it was out lawed in the United States as seditious propaganda and was popular out

lawed in the United States as seditious propaganda and was popular out West. Since the secession in New England FAR transmissions could now be heard on the East Coast. It played news from Southern California and all types of music like English Metal, Hip Hop and Nancy’s favorite Techno.

The music made her wish she could dance, sometimes if she were in good enough health and spirits she would bob her head. Tonight though she felt neither of good health or spirits. She shuffled her way into the bathroom to take a cool shower.

She looked at her body and felt revulsion and shuddered. No one would ever love her, even if she lived long enough to be an adult, a real adult, no one would love her. Her face twitched slightly as she gazed at her mauled face.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” she asked her reflection.

‘Not, you, dearie’ said a ghostly reflection of Miss Harker her face looking especially pink and piggy. ‘You are an ugly witch child. The pigs would sooner eat where they shit than trouble you my pretty!’ she cackled like the Wicked Witch of the East before fading away.

A lone tear fell down her distorted cheek. Her mother always told her never to depend on a man, which brought on more tears because she just wanted to be loved. Did that make her weak? Perhaps, but not as weak as her disease made her.

She turned on the shower knob to a low setting so the force of the shower head wouldn’t be too painful. She let the cold chilly water cover her body as spikes of pain from under her arm and thigh caused her to moan loudly. She though about the pigs and felt the anger rise, the anger

moan loudly. She though about the pigs and felt the anger rise, the anger helped her ignore some of the pain while she cleaned her self.

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The anger was there ready and waiting to flood her body with adrenaline so she could forget the burning away of her flesh and the spicy pain that would rack her body. Sometimes the anger was so powerful she would squeeze a surface abscess until it exploded, using the pain to keep from crying for her mommy when she was stuck using a surgical kit and the Novocaine wasn’t working properly.

It was an existence though, she reminded herself. She had freedom to read or watch TV or take a short stroll if she desired and had the strength. Paul never told her exactly how long she would live with the condition, but was to afraid to ask. She had asked her mom about it before she had died but never gave her a straight answer, more of the adults and their wonderful god damn secrets.

For a while there was a normalcy to her life. She would see Paul once or twice a week when he came to visit, usually on weekends. They would watch movies or go to the zoo or the library if her leg wasn’t too bad, once a month she would go for check up at Paul’s office under the eerie watchful eyes of Nurse Matilda. Then for a few weeks Paul stopped visiting, she had an appointment reminder come in the mail one day than the next day a letter telling her the appointment was canceled and to wait for a follow up letter to arrive with a new appointment, but one never showed up.

She had begun calling Paul’s cellular by this time sometimes three times a day but getting no answer. She hadn’t bothered leaving any messages, she knew something was wrong. One night she had been laying on the couch, half asleep watching TV when there was a brief rapid knock on the door.

She ambled over to the door and looked through the peephole at Paul, whose hair was almost all white and his face was pasty with fright. He was about to knock again when Nancy opened the door. He rushed in an gently but quickly shut the door, before looking around the room briefly.

He had back pack over his shoulder his bloodshot eyes were set deep in his sockets. A pair of large purple bags of exhaustion were under his eyes. He put both hands on Nancy’s shoulders looking into her worried eyes.

“Paul...”

“I have to go...somebody....The TL is looking for me, my name is on one of their warrants. I don’t know if it was Matilda but they know.”

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Nancy began to nod in negation as tears began to flow freely from her eyes in a waterfall.

“No,no, Paul I can’t lose you...no you can’t...”

But she knew he had too, he would be dead otherwise. He wouldn’t try to lie to them though that could possibly help spare his life but only for a life behind bars.

“I know baby...” he said crying freely now himself and looking down at his feet.

“I’m scared Paul...I can’t do this alone...”

She felt selfish saying she was scared, but she was terrified of being in this apartment day after day night after night alone, the idea sent her into hysterics.

“Shh...Snow White...shh...” he said holding her and gently rocking her.

“You don’t be scared, now. Take this.”

He handed her an odd looking key with an orange knob on its end. On knob was the number 116.

“This is a locker key from the greyhound station downtown. There is a back pack filled with cash and as many meds from the office as I could get my hands on, I didn’t want to leave all the stuff in it here since the cops or the TL will stop by asking you questions. I don’t know what they’ll ask you but it could be anything. Don’t go get it until you’re sure they wont come back to ask any more questions and don’t go to the bus station unless it’s day time. Do you understand?”

Nancy cried but wouldn’t answer or even nod, making Paul cry even harder.

“Please baby, do you understand?” he pleaded with her.

She nodded and collapsed into his arms putting both her arms around him even though it hurt her left side deeply. She couldn’t remember being this scared since her mom had died, Paul held her that way for a long time until they were both down to sniffles. He held her at arms length and smiled a horrible smile.

smiled a horrible smile.

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“I’m sorry, for leaving you, Nancy.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek before speaking: “Go, Paul. Don’t let those pigs get you, be free. If I weren’t the way I am I would go with you.”

Before he left he hugged her again.

“I love you, Snow White.”

“I love you too, Paul."

He was out the door and gone, it all was so quick she thought maybe it was just a vivid dream, that she had fallen asleep on the couch and was still slumbering. But the key with orange knob was in her hand, very much real as well as the hot tears burning her malformed cheek. Nancy slowly limped to the couch and sat down. She was still as the reality of it all washed over her and her body began to shake.

She closed her eyes to fight the salty tears that wanted to erupt again, she gritted her teeth and flexed the muscle of her left arm sending a shock wave of fire through her left side as the anger flooded her body and the tears away. A ghastly moan came through her lips as a torrent of fluid began to secrete from the wounds under her arm. She gritted down and took her right hand and began to squeeze her left arm sending more fluid down her heaving torso.

She gripped tighter still until a white noise filled her ears and white and black spots danced in her eyes, suddenly she felt a pop as a surface

abscess burst sending lighting bolts of pain so shocking to her nerves Nancy fell to the floor in a near faint as the world around her went hazy and out of focus.

She laid there for a while crying only a little, it would be many years before she would cry again. It never helped and made her feel like a little girl. It was two days later when there was another knock on the door.

Nancy’s heart stuttered in her chest, the knock was brisk and authoritative, Nancy hobbled over on her cane and looked through the peephole.

There was a middle aged woman with mousy brown hair and long lizard like lips that were pink and chapped, she wore a TL armband. Behind her were two uniformed police officers. She

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knocked again as Nancy opened the door, wishing the land lord would put a lock on the front door downstairs.

“Can I help you?”

Nancy was nervous and felt her body breakout in a sweat though she shuddered as if chilly. The mousy haired woman wore a blue skirt and shirt. Her eyes narrowed on Nancy and widened just the slightest at her deformed face before giving her a thin mealy smile.

“Nancy Darrow?” she asked.

“Yes.” Nancy said feeling acid bubble up her throat like a shaken soda.

“I’m Pamela Angel Regina, with the TL Bureau of Immoral Investigations, we would like to speak to you about Doctor Paul Kenoff.”

we would like to speak to you about Doctor Paul Kenoff.”

Nancy asked them to come in, the policemen refused coffee and stood around looking disinterested while Pamela sat beside Nancy on the couch and gratefully accepted coffee though she only sat it down on the table and never took a sip. She sat too close for Nancy’s comfort and detested the womans chapped smile that would appear whenever she asked the more uncomfortable questions.

“Did he ever touch you in anyway sexual or discomfiting to you as a person?”

“No.”

The womans head cocked slightly as she put a hand on Nancy’s own.

Nancy felt revolted by the womans long icy fingers with nails that would’ve looked more at home on a mans hand.

“Don’t be shy. You can be forth coming with me. He can’t hurt you anymore.” she said slowly patting her hand.

“He never hurt me.” she said and pulled her hand away.

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The woman frowned slightly, perhaps with some suspicion. She pulled back slightly from Nancy watching her closely.

“How old are you, child?”

Terror flooded her heart as she realized she had been too brisk with the woman, she could wind up back at the Byberry if she wasn’t careful.

woman, she could wind up back at the Byberry if she wasn’t careful.

“I’ll be seventeen in May, I was emancipated at fifteen, ma’am. You’ll find the legal papers in that top drawer in the kitchen to your left, Officer.” she said softly.

The woman nodded at the police officer closest to the kitchen who opened the drawer and took out a manila folder that had her doctored birth certificate and a few other legal papers. The woman smiled a chapped smile as the cop looked over the papers and handed them to the woman. Her smile faltered slightly, Nancy felt her heart freeze when she regained it.

“Well,” she said almost reluctantly getting up from the couch. “there’s nothing here out of order. You’ll be relieved to know I’m sure he has been arrested.”

Nancy’s stomach twisted painfully. She had asked questions that were demeaning and uncomfortable but she had gotten through the womans ugly flapping lips, that last statement though had brought her close to tears. As the woman walked towards the door she stopped and looked around the room briefly.

Nancy felt terror steal her heart again, knowing what she would ask next.

How did she pay her rent, they would have an idea she was physically unable to work and she wasn’t married. She didn’t qualify for the very few social services available.

“May I ask...”

Was as far as she got, as a loud squawk from one of the officers mikes.

Was as far as she got, as a loud squawk from one of the officers mikes.

[10-71, patrol 12 needs back up, repeat 10-71 back up needed...]

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“Ms. Regina, we need to go.”

“Very well.” she huffed and rummaged in her skirt pocket.

She took out a card for the TL. It had the womans name and the TL’s headquarters address as well as the net address and a pair of phone numbers.

“If you should need to talk to anyone, child.” she said handing the card to Nancy.

She murmured a thank you as they left, and began to tear up the card after she heard the patrol car drive away. She tossed the pieces to the trash and removed the key from her pocket. She made the trip downtown early the next day as the sun was coming up, she hadn’t slept very well thinking about Paul being locked up in a deep dark jail cell.

Despite it being early morning the bus station was busy. It was a huge facility overflowing with people standing around in long lines to either buy tickets or to go through the security check points to get on a bus going out of state where there would be a border agent to ask the reason for your travel. The bus station walls were all made of glass and she could see the lines of buses grumbling and exhaling blue exhaust, most were the gray dog, a few were Peter Pan line buses.

The white laminate floor was nearly black from grime and dirt and was populated by mounds trash and the occasional person sleeping between islands of blue contour chairs bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. Others were lined up against the wall with a cellular in hand plugged to the random wall outlets lined low along the walls. One young man in his twenties was using the NovaX Tap Screen cellular.

It had no button just a screen that reacted to your finger tips. They did more than text and make calls now, and were expensive. What made them so special was that they ran like a computer and with WiI you could download programmable applications, nick named Proggies, to not only call and text but surf the net, take pictures, shop and anything else you could do on a PC but quicker. Nancy walked past the travelers and passed a row of vending machines and a claw machine that held no prizes. On her right was the counter to make ticket purchases, across from that was a wall with box sized lockers with orange doors.

Some were hanging open, unused with a orange knob hanging in them, the ones that were closed had no orange knob and could not be opened with anything short of a crowbar. The lockers were 128 ONCE UPON AN ALTERED TIME

numbered to 130, 116 was on the bottom row in the middle. The door was locked and she tried to pull the door but with out using the key there would be nothing to pull.

She stuck the key in and heard a click when she turned it, she pulled it open and saw a back pack crammed inside. Remembering that there was cash in the sack, Nancy quickly put the strap on her good side and left as discretely as she could. She felt sure she would be robbed of the back pack, even as she rode on a nearly deserted bus she waited for someone to walk by her in the bus aisle and snatch it away. She held the pack close to her as she quickly limped to her apartment, it was still early morning but she was paranoid of thieves.

She didn’t feel safe until the door was locked and bolted behind her. She sat down slowly on the couch, her right thigh was flaring up bad from her walk from the bus stop. She opened the pack and found a note pinned to the lining.

‘Snow White,

I think there is about 2k in fives, tens and, twenties all wrapped up in a pair of socks. Your rent’s paid up for the rest of the year. Use the cash only if it’s vital. There is a cellular in here, the service will last a few months before you have to pay for more, use it sparingly. On the other side of this note is a list of some food banks and a half dozen walk in clinics, they don’t operate half the time and only take new patients during certain times of year, but if you run out of medicine or the meds you have aren’t working go anyway and try to get in, you might get lucky. I’m sorry I didn’t have more meds to give you. The hospitals will turn you away no matter what and give you an at home kit for your troubles. Love, Paul’

His name had been in the paper, not the arrest but the execution.

Beginning the day after her trip to the bus station she watched the local evening news and every morning she walked to the corner market to buy the Daily News for thirty five cents. It was an expense she didn’t like to endure but it only lasted for a few days. It was a byline on the front page about the execution that had taken place the day before.

The article didn’t interest her, the list of names of the executed did. There were ten names listed in alphabetical order, in the middle was Paul’s full name and the charge he had been executed for: engaging in immoral and unchristian acts.

She felt the tears build and build, so she squeezed her right thigh and felt

She felt the tears build and build, so she squeezed her right thigh and felt the world go hazy as her leg screamed from the liquid fires burning it away. She ignored the pain and gritted her teeth until the white and black spots began to dance in her vision again. The tears didn’t come, she 129 ONCE UPON AN ALTERED TIME

went to the bathroom and undressed and stood under a down pour of cold water from the shower head for a long time.

Time had felt slow to Nancy, days had turned to weeks and a few weeks after her 15/17th birthday the flaring pains in her leg had been minimal, almost nonexistent. June had bloomed warm and inviting, the chirping of birds that morning made her smile despite the pain and exhaustion of little sleep.

The low grade fever always left her feeling groggy and slow witted but the bright sunshine and the smell of cherry blossoms cut through it well enough to make her get up out of bed. She looked out the window at a bright blue sky unblemished by white clouds, nearby she could hear the chatter of people on the 9th street market, the air was so calm she could make out some of the other languages being spoken.

She hadn’t planned on going out but the call of sunshine was hard to ignore and the idea of maybe walking to the park on Federal street had got stuck in her head, it was a little far but she had made it there easy enough with her cane sometimes. She was coming out of her apartment as her neighbor Mrs Fetuchi was coming in. She was a chubby widow at least seventy years old and as wrinkled as Nurse Matilda but she was infinitely more good hearted and treated Nancy like a real person and not act disgusted by her deformities.

If Paul was worried about Nancy starving to death, it would never happen as long as Mrs F was her neighbor, she was in the habit of making too much food and giving most of it to Nancy because that's what a neighbor is for she said in her broken English. She wore a pink house coat that

fluttered as she walked down the hall

“Nancy, how you?”

“Hi Mrs F. I’m fine thank you. How are you?”

She made a see saw gesture with her hand but rolled her eyes in feigned annoyance.

“I make a..a..sweet...” her brow furrowed trying to remember the word she wanted. “cookies...doctor tell me diabetes...I say A fanabla...”

Nancy laughed at the word that could only have been a swear.

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“So, he say no sweets the figlio di puttana, all guess work in butchers smock...you want sweets?”

They were always delicious and Nancy took them gratefully and put them in her refrigerator before leaving though she snacked on one as she descended down the steps to the front door slowly. She was halfway down the block walking with careful deliberate steps before realizing she left her cane in the living room. She thought of Bilbo just then, leaving Hobbiton without his handkerchief and figured she could do without if he could.

If she had gone back for it, things may have been different. She certainly had no idea some great thing was going to happen, nothing greater than death that was. She had been customarily waking up during muddy patches of sleep with the wish she could just go to sleep and never wake up again, to never know the feeling of burning eroded flesh and

wake up again, to never know the feeling of burning eroded flesh and being filled with poison that kills slowly, so slowly.

It was customary to her to have these thoughts but not daily, and she hadn’t had them today. She walked to the Capitolo park on Federal. An impromptu football game was being played on the parks open grass with mostly boys about Nancy’s age. On the side line stood a cluster of girls of the same age watching.

One them began to giggle nervously when one of the boys came over to them. He grabbed a blond by the ass, she shrieked but with excitement rather than annoyance. The boys playing the game had stopped and looked on enviously. Nancy growled and grinded her teeth in anger not out of jealousy but pity for the girl.

If a pig ever laid a finger on her again, she would bite it off like a wild animal. Though she doubted she would have to worry about being assaulted, pigs like clean meat. She felt the rage build again and gripped one of her pullovers draw strings, although the day was warm, she never left home without wearing a hoody, she always kept the hood up so as to hide her face from others.

She lifted her face briefly to the June sun and felt her anger go down a little bit with each step. She walked outside the park on its perimeter so she walked alone and free of people gaping at her wretched face. She saw a bright yellow mini sunflower growing under a large Oak tree near the playground equipment, if there hadn’t been so many young children on the nearby swings she would have picked it and planted it in a pot for her home.

But it was OK, just seeing such an odd beautiful flower in the clusters of crab grass in a city park

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was enough to fill her heart with a romantic type of mystery, wondering who planted it and why. She sat down at a bench between the baseball field and basketball court looking into the park. There were young mothers with toddlers near the swings sitting in the dirts grove chattering in their still babyish language that was mixed with real words.

On the jungle gym two young boys of nine or ten standing at its top like great explores that had just climbed Mount Everest. The only break in the illusion was one of the boys mothers telling them to get their god damn asses down from there. On the short fence that surrounded the park a squirrel pranced precariously down to the bench seats along the baseball field rummaging through empty sacks of peanut bags and cracker jack boxes sold from a nearby concession stand that was open only when there was an official game or concert being held at the park.

Today it’s steel shutters were down giving the stand a sinister look, it had propaganda graffiti for First Amendment Radio that said: ‘See Far, Listen Far’ written in runny paint. Nancy thought of the witch from Hansel and Gretel being shut in behind the oven door her nails slowly melting as she tried to claw at the baking hot metal door.

Nancy had the sudden desire to drag her nails across the shutter and hear the sound, wondering if it was what the witch heard before she died in the flames.

She resisted the bizarre urge and watched the world around her. She sat for a while, as clouds slowly began to build unnoticed by her. She got up and began her walk home, it had taken her more than an hour to walk to the park but she was in no hurry. The air was still warm though the occasional chilly breeze did whip by every so often she breathed deeply and strolled slowly.

She was two thirds of the way home when she noticed the dark clouds that had been slowly building. The chilly breezes had picked up in frequency but because she wore a hoody she barely felt them. The mist

frequency but because she wore a hoody she barely felt them. The mist of rain that had begun to form had made her realize a down pour was immanent.

She walked a slightly different route to cut down on time, she came to a short side street called Annin that was row homes except for a large section in the middle that was just an open lot where a pair of houses had once stood. Though the day was still young the darkness of the coming storm made the sky look inky causing the street lights to come on. As Nancy approached the gap between houses she could hear voices.

Without thinking Nancy immediately crossed to the other side of the street, the houses on this block were mostly empty with signs of Noah Real Estate in its traditional powder blue color tied to the railings or hanging in the windows. She felt suddenly very vulnerable as there were no cars

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parked along the houses blocking the view of who ever was in the weedy lot. She was walking quickly as pain flamed up her thigh while the voices in the lot became more pronounced.

She could make out a few words before whoever had been talking suddenly stopped as she was halfway passed. She suddenly felt very hot, like the temperature had gone up fifty degrees despite the ever increasing winds and the steady downfall of mist, her ears felt hot and she shivered when a cold breeze hit her face. She though she heard whispering but decided it was nothing and walked on before an ice pick of fright struck her as the sound of foot steps approached her.

“Hey baby.” said a voice just beside and behind her.

A slight laugh was followed by the remark.

“Leave me alone.” she said trying to sound disinterested and continuing to walk.

“Hey now baby. Don’t go you got the fat ass.” he said in screechy voice He was suddenly right beside her, his face trying to peek on hers. He was a greasy blond with bad acne scars and was panting as if out of breath though he looked like he was in his twenties and skinny.

She tried to pass by him but he kept up, side stepping with her walk that was slowly becoming a limping gait.

“Come on baby, I love anal.” he said and grabbed her backside and squeezed with brutal force.

“NO!” she shouted.

But he pushed her down and quickly had his hand up her shirt, Nancy felt a slight tear at her left arm as fluid began to leak from her. He smiled a lecherous smile with his rubbery lips, licking them like a vile mutt. Nancy moaned in regurgitation at his clammy palms.

“Yeah, lemme get them...”

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His face was suddenly clouded with confusion, as if pondering a philosophical question.

“Yo, Ken what’s wrong?” asked his friend.

He pulled out his hand, three of his fingers were coated in a reddish yellow discharge that stung his fingers.

“Damn, Kenny you made that bitch come out her pit. You better wash yo hands.” he said in a harsh donkey laugh.

He held up his hand looking at it with revulsion. He got up and looked down at the girl whose hood had fallen back. He felt the urge to vomit as he looked upon the ruin that was her face, and the erratic tick of the muscle below her eye that was twitching like a frantic heart beat.

“Uh eww,” he said then delivering a kick right in her left arm pit.

She let out a breathless howl as what felt like a bomb exploded under her arm.

“Dirty fuckin hag bitch!” he said kicking her again and wiping his fingers on her hoody before walking away into the jeering laugh of his friend.

“Shut the fuck up, Ray!”

Nancy laid there in the echoes of the laughter, her left side pouring out fluid and scorching her breast and torso. She moaned weakly as she tried to moved but a spike of fire shook her right thigh, she was leaking there as well. The hanging mist slowly began to fatten and become actual rain as the sky turned purple.

She dragged herself to the stoop of the nearest house pulling up on its iron railing with her good arm and pushing herself up with her good leg. It took a half an hour to perform the maneuver, by that time it was a real down pour, though the rain drops were cold her body was roasting. It was another forty five minutes before she was on her feet and moving again.

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It was full dark by the time she reached Kimball street and was crawling up the steps and through her door. She carefully and methodically removed her clothes, leaving them in a soggy pile by the bathroom door.

She went to the mirror to see how badly she had been hurt.

There had been three abscess’ under her arm, two of them had broken wide open leaving gaping maws the leaked what looked like a gallon of fluid that coated most over left breast and lower torso, the third was a fat red lump the size of her fist. She looked down on her right thigh, the man hadn’t kicked her there but the fall had agitated the once pea sized abscess into a large angry lump the size of an orange, one of the holes from a previous abscess was dribbling out sickish fluid.

She opened the cabinet below the sink and removed a plastic tray covered over with cellophane. In the tray were an adjustable razor knife, scissors, bandages and other random medical items. She opened it with her good arm and ripped the cellophane off with her teeth and took out a white tube the size of her pinky finger with the words Novocaine written on the side.

She pushed the cap down and a tiny needle protruded from its top. She took a deep breath and put the needle under her arm and squeezed, she moaned painfully but kept squeezing until the tube was empty. She took out another kit and did the same on her thigh.

She took the scalpel from the second kit and put it in her teeth as she turned on the cold water for the shower with her good arm. With that accomplished she dragged her self over the tub carefully putting herself into the icy down pour. She took the scalpel from her mouth with a shaking hand and prodded her abscess with the blunt end and was greeted with pain though the Novocaine dulled it some.

She took another deep breath and began to cut, a wail left her mouth as the pain exploded under her but she dragged the blade through the infected flesh like a hot knife through butter. The clear water going down the drain had become a red brown color as pints of fluid escaped her.

She didn’t cry but was moaning and shaking with chills as she began to squeeze the rest of the fluid out of her armpit.

She was breathing frantically, as if she had run an up hill race. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears, she could feel each heart beat through her whole body. Her face was purple from her erratic breathing, she closed her eyes and waited for her heart to slow down.

“Just...one...more...” she gasped out.

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After a few moments she redoubled her grip on the scalpel and rinsed it off slowly from the waters of the shower head. She sluggishly moved her right leg high enough so her foot would be on the tubs edge. The skin stretched painfully but she bit down on her lip and with out hesitation she stuck the scalpel in and screamed and couldn’t move the blade.

“No!” she said and bit on her lip hard enough to draw blood and flick her wrist.

The side of the tub was immediately bathed in her fluids causing her scream to become a gag. She cried out through clenched teeth as she squeezed her thigh forcing as much out as she could. She wanted to cry for her mommy, but that thought only enraged her more making her squeeze harder.

“Stop being weak!” she scolded herself with another squeeze shaming herself because she didn’t bite off anyone's fingers.

Her mind wanted to go hazy but Nancy fought it by sitting up. She sat for a few minutes letting the icy water rinse her body, feeling too weary and pain ridden to wash. She slowly crawled out of the tub and saw herself in the mirror again, her body soaked and bloodied and starting to show a waffle pattern bruise above her rib cage.

She wrapped her self in a big red towel and walked to her bedroom, dragging her right leg she collapsed on the bed and pulled a large green comforter over her body and fell into an exhausted sleep. She awoke many hours later, it was still dark and the rain had stopped.

She was chilled to the bone so she got up and dressed, though her body felt hot she kept getting goose bumps. She limped to the living room and picked up her still sopping wet clothes and put them in the trash, looking at them made her feel weak. She went into the bathroom and disposed of the kits that she had left on the floor and finally turned off the shower.

She checked her temperature with a oral thermometer that said 100.8. It was low but her head felt like it was on fire. The latest holes in her body were still wet and red on the edges so she took a double dose of Bactrim and Biaxin and laid on the couch. She didn’t move for many hours as every movement was a chorus of pain that would come from either her

left arm or right thigh that would turn her whole body into a rotten tooth.

She passed in and out of sleep while her Thin Screen played on.

Sometimes it was westerns that seemed to be the only type of TV shows they ever make. There was a political ad for the next 136 ONCE UPON AN ALTERED TIME

presidential election. It was for the BNP hopeful from New York City, she kept seeing him on TV more frequently and though she had no idea about politics, she thought this man was a fat loud mouth asshole.

The next evening she felt a little better to move but her head was hot to the touch and her body was an icicle, she had frequent bouts of nausea.

She limped on her cane to the bathroom and took her temperature again, it was 101.3. She wanted to take another double dose but that was sometimes dangerous and could make going to the bathroom painful in its own right so she did two single doses of the B and B and put on an extra pair of socks over her feet that were blocks of ice.

She wasn’t hungry but made some chicken broth in hopes her nausea would cease, but it only made it worse and her stomach rolled over on her making her vomit. She slept on the couch again wrapping herself tight in her comforter trying to hide from the chills but having no luck, after laying for hours in a half sleeping daze she sat up and decided to watch TV.

She watched the moronic violent westerns and over sexualized commercials trying to lull viewers with their repetitive slogans and tunes.

Another commercial played that she saw often was for Liberty Pharmaceutical. A handsome doe eyed doctor with a blazing smile stood on a white background asking the viewer if they knew about the exciting things the company had done.

Then a boy appeared in a park wearing a baseball uniform, he was in

Then a boy appeared in a park wearing a baseball uniform, he was in profile and held a brown wooden bat that sat on his shoulder. He swung the bat and hit a ball, presumably out of the park, before running the bases he said to the screen: ‘Thanks to Liberty Pharmaceutical I don’t have asthma anymore!’ The screen then showed an old couple on a dance floor the man wore a lovely suit and tie while the old woman shook her body to a band playing happily. The old woman in her bright red dress smiled at the screen and said: ‘Thanks to Liberty Pharmaceutical I can go all night!’ she said giving the old man in the suit a wink.’ The doctor on the white screen returned again with the same devastatingly handsome smile.

‘Liberty Pharmaceutical for a better health!’ he said with a wink of his own before a message beneath him appeared that was read by a womans voice over. ‘Now accepting for the month of June walk ins at all Philadelphia locations! Limited time only, no referral or insurance for first visit, Liberty Pharmaceutical for a better health!’

If the medicine didn’t help, Paul said to find a walk in clinic. She had called some of the numbers he gave her before hand but none were accepting new patients until the end of Summer for whatever reason. And Liberty Pharmaceutical wasn’t a government operation, they might be 137 ONCE UPON AN ALTERED TIME

more efficient than any free clinic. She checked her temperature again, 102.2. It was steadily rising, the antibiotics were sickening her stomach and eating was impossible. She decided to wait until she hit 103 before she would go, Paul had been the only doctor she had ever had and wasn’t eager to have some stranger looking her over.

She felt flushed with fever and embarrassment at the idea of showing her putrid body to someone, but she understood she would have to get over it. It was almost sunrise when she woke up, the birds chirping nearby didn’t cut through her grogginess this morning. She felt like she had been baking in the sun and wondered if she would have the strength to get off the couch.

the couch.

She did, and lifted her shirt to look at the holes under her arm and was alarmed. Five or six red lines emanated from the hole just below the skin leading up and around her arm heading towards the shoulder. She looked apprehensively at her thigh and saw two thick red lines heading from the hole and ending just below her waist. She took her temperature again, 103.1.

The nearest location was Broad and Washington, it was too far to walk so she gathered three dollars in change for the trip there and another three for the trip back. It was a week day so the buses came every ten or twelve minutes, it was warm and sunny, but Nancy hid under her hoody and looked at no one as she limped onto the bus with her cane.

“Need assistance, ma’am?” asked the driver kindly.

No,” she said not lifting her head as she dumped the quarters in and sat alone in the back, away from prying eyes.

The bus bumped and joggled on its way, Nancy held tight to her cane as each bump made her grimace. The ride was short but painful, Nancy was breathing heavily when she got off at Washington avenue. The day was bright blue sky with a few wisps of clouds coasting along as dreamily as sail boats on a calm sea.

Across the street from a red brick office building that supplied the Marine Corps was the Liberty Pharmaceutical Plaza. It was a squat office building that was more modern looking than the supply depot, with reflective black glass on all sides and glass double doors at the entrance with the company logo which was a simple silhouette of the Liberty Bell and the company name below it in bold font.

Nancy limped through the front door and into a waiting room that was just rows and rows of

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steel folding chairs. The place was filled with mostly woman and children.

More than thirty people sat around either writing on a clip board or staring blankly at a phone screen as children some as young as two ran around screaming or crying.

All the faces that were in the waiting group looked weary and tired and sick, and ignored the shrieks of children. It was a private facility so they weren’t required to segregate the waiting room which would have made the wait even longer. A few looked in her direction closely but then went about either waiting or filling out paperwork. Along the wall was a door beside four windows, each window sat between two partitions with a chair in each for privacy when consulting with the nurse behind the glass.

Today only one window had a nurse behind it, where a long line had formed. The sign on that window said in a brisk manner: ‘New arrivals MUST sign in here and COMPLETE all paperwork or you will NOT be seen!’

The capitalized words had been underlined twice, apparently not signing in was a big problem here. The wait in line was short as the nurse was simply handing out clipboards with a few sheaths of paper and a pen chained to clipboard.

The nurse was a pudgy young woman who looked uncomfortable in her whites, her head was down as Nancy sat. She was writing something down and took a half minute writing before speaking, she wore a TL arm band and a silver crucifix around her plump neck.

“Fill...” she stopped suddenly and let out a short disgusted breath when Nancy put her hood down. “this out if you want to be see.”

She didn’t look away at Nancy as she handed over the clipboard, she was looking curiously at the twitch under her eye.

“See anything you like?” Nancy said staring back.

“Next!” the woman said looking at the person waiting behind her.

Nancy hobbled away and found an empty seat that was near a bathroom that had a sign with the same brisk tone that said a key was needed for entry. Nancy imagined that the TP rolls would be 139 ONCE UPON AN ALTERED TIME

chained to the wall in there. It took less than twenty minutes for her to fill out the paper work, but waiting to be seen appeared it would take all day.

Nancy didn’t care though, she wasn’t anxious to get on the bus again. As the hours passed the amount of people in the waiting room slowly dwindled. There were no magazines to pass the time so Nancy laid her head against the wall half dozing and half day dreaming.

Sometime in that late afternoon, with only a handful of people in the waiting room, a nurse came out and called her name. She hobbled to the nurse who led her through a door to a hallway with many little rooms. The nurse looked at her paper work and asked Nancy the same questions the form had asked.

The nurse wasn’t as bad as the one from earlier and wasn’t wearing a TL

The nurse wasn’t as bad as the one from earlier and wasn’t wearing a TL

armband. She looked at Nancy’s wounds and scar tissue with no fuss and had helped her put on the hospital gown and let Nancy use her shoulder to push herself on the bed. The nurse took her vitals and told her a doctor would be in shortly. It was forty minutes later when a middle aged man with cropped brown hair and wire rim glasses sitting on his face came in.

“Nancy Darrow?”

“Yes.” she said sitting up.

“I’m Doctor Baldino, Paul Kenoff was your former doctor?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, shame what happened to him.”

Nancy didn’t speak she just watched the doctor look back down at the papers in his hands.

“You have a high fever and with your condition I am going to give you an MRI to look for any abscess’ below the surface. OK?”

“MRI?”

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“Yes it’s just a machine we use to take pictures of your insides. It’s a little cramped but it will only take a few minutes and we’ll be able to see whats what. Sound like a plan?”

“I guess.” Nancy said suddenly feeling turned off by the doctors upbeat demeanor.

An hour later Dr Baldino had Nancy back in her room after the MRI. With the images in hand he went to the office of his associate Doctor Weissman. He knocked on the door an opened it to Weissman and a young red headed nurse with long legs looking creamy in her white stockings. She was smiling at the doctor as she twirled a lock of her hair as Weissman leaned close to her sharing a secret which made her giggle.

His eyes widened at Baldino in pleasant surprise.

“Can I steal you for a minute, W?” he said leaning through the doorway.

“Of course. I’ll be back.” he said to the red head.

She nodded and gave him a sexy smile that said wild horses couldn’t drag her away. She wont go anywhere, thought Baldino enviously.

Weissman was old enough to be sporting gray hairs but he was from a wealthy family and drove a blue Jaguar. Though Baldino gave him credit as one of the finest MD’s in America, hence his being one of the most senior physician on staff.

“So you hoping for threesome?” Weissman joked.

“Huh, oh no.” Baldino said blushing. “You did dermatology years back right?”

“Yes. Why?”

He took Weissman to his office and showed him the MRI scans and digital pictures of her right thigh and left arm.

“Hidradenitis Suppurativa, eh?” Weissman said.

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“Yeah, what the hell is it, leprosy?”

“No, no. This is more rare and deadly in certain cases. Something less than one percent of the worlds population suffers from it. Judging by the scans she’s got it awful.”

“You ever seen it before, I mean in person?”

“Once, 72 or 73 or there abouts. Guy had it almost as bad as this one, if his parents hadn’t been so well off he would’ve died at twenty instead of thirty. She has a fever I take it?”

“103. What would you recommend?”

“Well at this point if the antibodies aren’t working there’s nothing else left to do but wait for the inevitable. There is an abscess leaking in her body here, and here.”

He pointed at the MRI scans with a pen at a dark orb just below her right thigh and another above the glands in her arm pit.

thigh and another above the glands in her arm pit.

“She’s showing signs of it on her skin as well.” Baldino said.

“Yes I saw that. You could try giving her the LP biotic.”

The LP biotic was a pill made by the company years earlier. It was a five hundred milligram capsule of bright green. It wasn’t on the open market yet as it had only done two things when given to a patient, either nothing or kill them. The death was a sudden cardiac arrest or in one or two cases a severe stroke leading to a coma then death. It was developed by Dr Herman Fischer a German doctor.

He was an odd man with thick black rim glasses, and a wrinkly face with a pumpkin shaped head covered with longish white hair. He had developed the medicines that cured asthma and the female version of Viagra. All though Weissman had some weight, Fischer was indispensable to Liberty Pharmaceutical.

“Are you sure? It could kill her, W.”

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Weissman looked at the scans a moment longer rubbing his chin and slowly began to nod.

“At this rate she’ll be dead before July. If the biotic kills her it’ll be a hell of a lot quicker, Christ we would be doing her a favor.”

“OK.”

Nancy sat waiting for the doctor to return, but the nurse who helped her dress discharged her and gave her a bright green capsule still in its foil packet.

“The doctor said you have an internal abscess’ that's causing your fever.

Take this when you get home, OK.”

“Will it make me nauseous?”

“Well, Doctor Baldino didn’t say, but it is like an antibiotic so you may want to wait to go home before you take it. Also we'll send you a form to fill out in the mail if you would like to make another visit. OK? ”

Nancy went through the waiting room that was now deserted, save a black woman in a graying maids outfit vacuuming the floor. The sun was beginning its westward descent as she stood waiting for the bus, her brow coated with sweat from the heat of the day and her fever. She left the pill in her pocket and leaned drunkenly on the bus stop sign.

When the bus arrived, a gush of cold air from the bus’ A/C sent her into chills as she put her hood up and limped on her cane to a nearby seat, no one offered her assistance this time. The

ride going back was slightly altered and less bumpy. She looked up from her feet briefly at a ghostly set of eyes staring back at her, it was a sign warning people the TL was watching you.

“Pigs.” she muttered and put her head back down.

The bus droned back into her neighborhood and was empty despite it being the peak of rush hour. She hobbled slowly to her door and up the steps groaning each time she had to lift her right

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leg. She dropped her cane to the floor and collapsed on the couch and laid there for a moment to catch her breath.

She slowly removed her shirt and saw the red lines had thickened and crept farther along her shoulder. Down on her torso the two lines from her thigh had reached just below the navel. She hobbled to the bathroom and took her temperature. 103.7, possibly a new record for her.

She limped to her bed room and put on a t-shirt and fished out the biotic from her right pocket, and dry swallowed the pill. She went back to the couch and put on the TV, but she had a hard time concentrating on the images displayed on the screen. On the table was a copy of The Fellowship Of The Ring, she picked it up to try and read but the words wouldn’t stop swirling in her eyes.

Sweat poured from everywhere, bathing her wounds in acid, her forehead sweat dripped into her eyes making her blind momentarily. She wiped her dripping brow, and licked her lips with a tongue that was sandpaper. Water, cold water would be great right now, but the kitchen looked miles away.

She tried to stand but fell back down on the couch, her breath was short and hectic. Her heart was trip hammering in her chest like the worlds loudest drum. After two minutes she stood up again, the idea of getting a glass of icy water was calling her like a dream. She had a cube tray in the freezer filled with ice, cold clear refreshing ice.

She stood and almost fell back to the couch again but held on the arm of it waiting for the dizzy spell to subside. She walked at a snails pace, dragging her right leg which was nothing but burning fire. She was within reaching distance of a drinking glass on the dish drainer when a sudden

reaching distance of a drinking glass on the dish drainer when a sudden pain exploded inside her right leg.

The pain was so great and immediate Nancy screamed and fell into the make shift bookcase made of bright colored plastic milk crates. She fell to her side bringing down crates filled with books upon her, she gasped painfully as a large hardcover book bounced off her head. She laid still for only a second when an explosion of pain erupted from her left arm pit sending daggers of fire through her chest.

“Uh!” she screamed as the lightning hit her again.

Each explosion was followed by an after image of green lines and spots in both her eyes. She

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laid on her back breathing in great big swallows of air, she tried to rise up but bolt after bolt after fiery bolt racked her body. The muscle under her left eye began twitching quickly as more green spots and lines impeded her sight briefly.

Another agonizing bolt of pain shot out from under her left arm, again and again and again it felt like she was being stabbed, she could feel the spongy walls of her heart expanding with each gasp, she let out a sound that was filled with anger and pain. As the adrenaline coursed through her body, she grabbed the collar of her shirt with her right hand and tore it open revealing her chest and lower abdomen. With a great horror she realized she was about to die.

The red fingers reaching over her shoulder were now green like the pill she had taken. What was chilling was that she could see them growing and reaching for her face. On her torso four or five green lines were slowly reaching her heart, in the corner of her left eye she could see tiny green lines coming from her wounded cheek and heading up to her head.

green lines coming from her wounded cheek and heading up to her head.

No,no,no,no!” she said in a heavy panic.

She tried to wipe away the green racing across her body but stopped as another stabbing pain hit her. The world around her and gone to a deep foggy haze as the liquid flooded her blood stream and invaded her heart.

In the far reaches of her brain fuses sparked and a memory flooded her consciousness.

She was eight and riding a twelve inch bike, a two wheeler, for the first time. She was going slowly down the sidewalk in front of the old apartment. Too slowly as mommy had warned her would result in falling over and bumping your head. She had fallen over but had only scraped her knees.

Nancy could still feel the scream piercing her own ears in this memory, her mother hurried over and tried to get her on her feet again. Nancy had wanted to quit, it had hurt falling, she didn’t want to hurt anymore.

“If you get up it will stop hurting, Snow White.”

The memory was different in some way this time, because her father was there too, and he was dead years before this, and Paul was there. They all wanted her to get up, but she didn’t want too and embraced the end as the memory went from white to green, then black.

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I’m dead. She thought blankly not feeling her lungs expanding and taking in air. Death is green, she thought for some reason. If I’m dead, how can I think? You’re a ghost, her mind answered. Then why am I thirsty?

She felt her tongue, dry and slightly thick, rub the back of her teeth. I’m alive, oh boy here comes the pain. She stayed still waiting for her body to wake up, sometimes it took a minute before the fires of her wounds were stoked. She didn’t open her eyes, afraid that if she did another shock wave of pain would barrel through her.

She opened her eyes after a minute anyway, too disorientated to realize her left eye was no longer showing a world slightly brown. She saw a litter of books cast about and slowly remembered the fall she had taken.

Where’s my cane she thought disjointedly.

She looked around but didn’t move her head, her right cheek was to the floor facing nothing but a pile of books and a pink milk crate on its back.

She waited for the pain to awaken before moving, she counted to thirty but still the pain was sleeping. She had landed on her back but was now on her right side, the seizure or whatever had happened to her had almost flipped her completely over.

I could have suffocated if I hadn’t turned over she though distantly, still waiting for the pain, but it still was dormant. I can’t lay here all night she thought, and suddenly remembered the odd dream she had of falling off her bike and how daddy and Paul had been there. The dream had given her enough courage to try and get up without waiting for her pain to stop her.

She took a breath and sat up quickly taking slow methodical breaths as if nothing happened. Her eyes had been closed tight, her left arm was curled instinctively above her breast to ward off pressure. She felt nothing as she opened her eyes and looked at the wall in front of her that was bare red bricks.

She looked down at the hole she had made in her shirt and gasped so deeply she could not breath. The skin of her left breast had been a distorted pink orb from the side nearest her wounds, continuously becoming folded, stretched and deformed as she developed, now though it was normal.

Nancy regained her breath and put her arm down, then lifted it higher, heart beating with fear and

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ecstasy. She looked below her left arm and gasped again but not as deeply, the flesh below her arm had healed, no healing was the wrong word Nancy thought. Healing left scar tissue or imperfections even with good stitching, here the flesh was as creamy as her skin had been on unaffected areas.

She touched her armpit briefly and felt a tickling sensation and gasped yet again. She rubbed the area slowly in amazement and quickly got up to look at her arm in the bathroom mirror, ignoring the itchy heat and tickle of hair upon her head. She limped to the bathroom out of habit, not realizing she was no longer in pain from the excitement and terror filling her, so she gave her self quite a scare as she looked in the mirror.

“UHHH!”

She ran back out of the bathroom with her back on the door in heart squeezing terror away from the blazing green eyed woman in her mirror.

Her hair was wild and black, and she looked at the hair touching her shoulders, and touched the left side of her face and found a smooth soft cheek. She opened the door back up and walked in the bathroom again and faced the mirror. Her eyes were now green, no longer the deep dark blue she inherited from her mother, emerald green that had looked like

blue she inherited from her mother, emerald green that had looked like search lights when she first barged in here.

Her hair had grown back, grown back to a length she hadn’t had since before her time at the Byberry, just below the shoulders. It was disheveled but when she touched the strands they felt soft and clean, it was the color that was enchanting her though. She like her mother had raven black hair, thin but strong.

Her hair now, felt thicker and was a deeply rich black, so black in looked like a void. She put her fingers in the strands and pulled expecting tangles but found none. As she pulled her fingers through some strands shined in the bathrooms light just the slightest green hue but was then gone, she tried to catch the light again but didn’t get that odd green hue.

What was also odd was that she had grown a pair of very long bangs.

They grew right from the top of her hair line, one on each side in what looked to be a million strands for each giving both the width of a heavy rope, they went down to the top of her waist line and were as soft and as thick as the rest of her hair. She had never had bangs when she still had hair, she was still in too much shock to think long on the idea. She removed her sweat pants and was able to keep from gasping when she saw her right thigh had changed as well.

There were other changes than just repaired flesh, her body had been improved in a way she

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didn’t notice right away. The white doughy flesh around her buttocks, thighs and stomach were gone, the twenty five pounds from fighting her illness with steroids had vanished. Even her stomach which had only been a little big had been tightened, Nancy rubbed her flat stomach and felt the hard six pack under neath.

“Holy shit.” she said pulling her hand from her body as if it were a hot stove.

She looked around the bathroom, not sure what to do until she saw the shower gleaming wetly behind her and looked at it with a slowly growing smile. For nearly an hour, with the radio player playing FAR music, Nancy sung in the shower feeling deliciously alive for the first time since she was a child. She laughed as she thought back to a memory of Dorothy saying one of the things she missed most was singing in the shower.

“Why did you sing in the shower?” Nancy asked giggling at the idea.

She giggled back and shrugged: “Just felt like the thing to do.”

Nancy now understood what her long ago friend had meant, though the hot water ran out after ten minutes, the sensation of water cascading away all the dirt and grime and stink. Every pore of skin happy and healthy accepting the water without a symphony of pain. Although she couldn’t carry much of a tune she sung the lines to a techno song that was the top hit in the Republic Of New England by an artist called Doctor Lady.

‘do you think you’re better off alone, talk to me ooh, talk to me’

Nancy finally got out when the pressure was low and dried off with a towel, a big fluffy white towel she had hardly used. She had no brush but her hair was still soft and tangle free despite having been washed with ordinary anti bacterial soap. She went into her bedroom when she realized her clothes would no longer fit her.

She opened a drawer and felt a grimace looking upon her clothes, they were all stained and she didn’t want to get sick again if it was possible, she’d have to burn them.

“I can’t walk around naked.”

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Then she remembered something Paul had brought her from his place not long after she moved in. It was under her bed which was the only place it could fit, a footlocker filled with random things that belonged to her parents some of which where clothes. She never had the strength to pull it out so was rarely was in it. She tucked the towel around her tight as she knelt down and pulled it out. She flipped the latches and opened the lid which gave a slight squeal.

There was a pair of photo albums put together by her mom, A baby book written by an oddly named doctor, and a pair of dusty red boxing gloves.

There was a pair of well worn Dr Martens and a pair of jeans and a couple of black and near black t-shirts that wear faded but whole. The jeans, gratefully had been her mothers, though the legs were a little tight so she cut them into shorts, but not too short. The t-shirts were her fathers but that was OK, she had no problem wearing one of her daddy’s shirts. The boots were a little loose so she tied them extra tight.

She went to the bathroom again and looked at her self, her new self. She looked at the wiry muscles under her arms and flexed them watching the skin pull tight then release when she relaxed. She looked down to her well scalped calves and saw the muscles there bunch easily. Every part of her body was filled with an energy she could hardly contain.

She gripped her hands into fists and felt the flexing muscles on her knuckles moving over them smoothly like strong silk. She wanted to go

knuckles moving over them smoothly like strong silk. She wanted to go outside and breath the air. She rummaged in her bedroom drawer and found her mothers striped hoody and put it on before heading out to the roof in much the same way as she had when West Philly blew up and they wanted to see.

The fire escape here was no where near as safe as her childhood homes, the ladder leading to the roof was rusting away to dusty orange and black crumbs. It held her weight though and she climbed the ladder, since she had moved here she had wanted to see the view up top from here, and she wasn’t disappointed. In the north was the city skyline with skyscrapers glass sides reflecting the black night sky and glowing lights of all the streetlights surrounding it all like stars in a distant galaxy.

She walked forward on the tarred surface towards the building next to it, where the roof was five feet above her head. She looked at its hard wall surface leading up and thought: I wonder if I could climb it? She would have to jump high just to grab the edge with her hands. The idea felt intoxicating but dangerous.

Even if you do grab the edge, what will push yourself up on? She asked herself, but she didn’t care and made a dash. She didn’t plan on being able to grab the edge, but she didn’t have to as she jumped a dozen feet above the wall and landed almost perfectly on the other side. She got up quickly frightened again.

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She had jumped and nearly cleared the entire building. Her heart was beating rapidly as she took in the great distance of her leap. Across from her was the row of other buildings on the other side of the street, before she could let terror seize her she ran to the edge and leaped. She landed easily on the roof across from her which was at a lower angle, she stood up and turned and leaped to the next street ahead, she glimpsed down and saw a Septa bus drive below her.

She landed on her feet again and felt a rush fill her body and flood her muscles with a restless energy so she ran and leaped again across another street above the asphalted lane dotted with orange street lights.

The air rushed through the locks of her regrown hair and caressed her scalp with lovely touches, some people walked about below, unaware of her leaps. She leaped from roof top to roof top before coming to the end of the block were Passyunk avenue cut across making the distance between this roof and the next three times longer.

A late breeze ruffled her hair as she looked across Passyunk and the roof she would aim for. It was at the same height and had a large billboard that had no lights and was adorned with graffiti. She walked back a few feet and ran to the edge and with as much force as she could she leaped high. The wind soared in her ears as the neighborhood flew under her feet but as she got closer to the derelict sign she realized she might miss.

She saw the sign edge closer but felt the momentum of her jump leaving.

She was relieved when she landed on the tiled edge under her feet but her footing was awkward and her body was falling backwards to the street below.

“Shit!” she said frightened as gravity pulled her down.

She had the urge to reach out and she had, but it was her hair that had reached. Both bangs suddenly extended and shot out to the abused billboards steel legs and wrapped tightly around them and just as suddenly pulling her up on the roof she almost fell from. As she regained her footing her bangs were shortening and returning to their original length. She held up one of the bangs in her hands looking at it closely.

The strands of her bangs were all of equal length and had neither a split end nor a flake of dandruff. In front of her was a cluster of tennis balls

end nor a flake of dandruff. In front of her was a cluster of tennis balls and a few half balls from children playing over the years. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing, she tried to imagine her bangs as arms reaching out. She didn’t expect it to work but it had as she secretly hoped it would and her right bang extended growing in length towards a green tennis ball that was washed out to a gray color. The strands of hair went around it twice and she brought the ball back and placed it in her open hand.

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As midnight wound around, Nancy walked the roof tops back towards her neighborhood but not rushing. She enjoyed the breeze and had come down from the high of good health and was overcome with an almost reverent silence from the view around her. As the lights of the skyline when dark she found herself on the roof of a row home in a residential neighborhood that was mostly without residents.

Her legs hung lackadaisically off the edge of the house high above the dark street below, the street was familiar to her because she had been attacked here the other day. It wasn’t a conscious decision, she felt drawn to it the way she had had felt drawn to the mini sun flower in the park. In the middle distance at her eye level was a lightening bug going slowly down the street.

Nancy extended a bang out to the creature, which landed promptly and stayed even as she drew it close. She lifted a finger and it hopped on smartly to her finger tip, its back end glowing a hyper green that reflected in the shine of her hair. She pursed her lips and blew gently and the creature flew off into the late spring night.

The act had filled her with a peace she didn’t believe possible. She was brought out of her peace when she heard a screechy high pitch voice echo from below her. At the end of the block a street light fluttered and stuttered as the greasy blond and another man walked towards the weedy lot just across and below her. There was a homeless man sleeping by a steel barrel that was blackened by fires, tonight it was just a bed a red embers minus the flames.

bed a red embers minus the flames.

The blond man had chased off the homeless man with a partially broken baseball bat laying in the weeds. He swung the bat over his head like a mace and screamed in a high pitch as the homeless man scrambled from his make shit hovel that was a couch cushion and a cardboard box.

“WHOOP WHOOP, TL FAG PATROL! WHOOP WHOOP!!!!”

“Hey now come on!” the man said defensively holding up his arms as he ran away.

The blond mans friend laughed as he had the other day at her, and Nancy felt a darkness fill her body like a poison. She got up and walked slowly into the shadows of the roof top unnoticed.

“Whoop, mother fucker!” the blond said with another swing of the bat.

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“Shit I thought that niggers head was gonna bounce of that wood. Crazy mother fucker.” he said with reverence.

“Aw shit, Ray” the blond said with an aw shucks grin. “been a bitch though, her ass woulda been bouncing off my balls.”

He stuck the bat between his legs and began to gyrate angrily. He was horny and there was nary a bitch in sight as he usually said.

“Man I want a pussy, a big fat wet pussy, with some pussy on the side!”

“Man I want a pussy, a big fat wet pussy, with some pussy on the side!”

he said and hit the burning barrel with the bat which bonged musically.

“Nah I want me some fucking egg rolls. You wanna hit the gook store around the block?”

“Not unless they got a pussy roll.” the blond said gripping the handle of the bat tight.

“Aight, I be back.”

“Whatever, get me an RC motha fucker!”

He waited for Ray to leave before lighting a cigarette, he hated giving them out though he had plenty. He walked to the barrel and pissed through the hole he made with the bat enjoying the sizzle of embers being doused by his stream, putting a childish smile on his face that was almost handsome. He was zipping up when he saw her, her finely shaped leg up on short stack of ruined white walls.

Her fingers worked the knot of her boots slowly, making him wonder what those hands would feel like around his shaft. He flicked his cigarette away and approached her as she put her leg down. She didn’t walk away though, she stood there as if waiting for him. He could see her ass just below the hem of her hoody, a perfect upside down heart shaped ass.

“Yeah, baby I know you right?” he said dropping his bat and putting his hands in his pockets.

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He stood just behind her, lighting another cigarette so he didn’t look like an idiot with his hands. He didn’t want to come off like a retard.

“Hey sweet ass, you wanna smoke? I got some green, baby, some of that good stinky shit.”

She stood with her back to him, barely moving with her hands at her sides. Her hood was up but was opened and swayed gently. She made no sound, he couldn’t hear anything except his own beating heart. A thick coat of sweat began to emanate from his pores. The sound of his own breathing was too high and ragged in his ears.

He had the sudden urge to cry and run away but wasn’t sure why. The crack and pop of embers in the barrel near by were as loud as gunshots, his body jumped each time he heard it, he was pouring out nervous sweat. The whole time she stood there, never moving, not even breathing but she was laughing inside his head louder and louder.

Laughing at his tiny penis. His skin felt too hot for his body, the pockmarks on his face were itching horribly, like when he was a boy. He could feel the divots on his cheeks and temple getting wet as if refilling with pus and blackheads thick and greasy. He wiped at his face expecting to see whitish goo splattered across his hand but his fingers came away bathed only in sweat. He shook the unpleasant image from his head trying to remember why he walked over here.

He saw her again and her long legs and felt a little more there again and decided to quit daydreaming and make his move. He only pulled gently on her elbow, with little if any force, slowly feeling like he was moving underwater. As her face entered his view, and those preternatural glowing green eyes fell upon him, he knew he would die.

The eyes brightened with a liquidity that made his bladder release in a stream down his leg. Her hand was suddenly on his forearm, she smiled slightly as she twisted and a blinding white pain erupted in his arm. A flash flood of blood soaked his lower body as he let loose a milk curdling scream staring at the horror of his left arm which had been bent into an unnatural angle.

He collapsed to his knees, using his good arm to hold himself off the ground. The hooded woman walked around him and a few feet away from him as he crawled away. He only saw her face once more as he cast back a frightened glance when he heard a loud crack.

She had found the baseball bat and had broken it over her knee, she held the handle that held just

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quarter of the fat end on it which had formed a splintery and rough spear.

When she looked at him he began crawling faster, using his right elbow and both knees to go faster as he had not the strength to stand.

“Please,no...no...no.” he slobbered and cried.

“Come on baby, I love anal.”

The woman said in a whisper, on the word anal she shoved the shattered bat up his rectum right up to the handles end burrowing all the way to his heart, his dying screams were drowned out by his own blood and shit filling his lungs. She stood up from the blond and at the other end of the lot stood his friend, he dropped the food and soda he had been carrying on his feet but didn’t

notice as his hands still tried to grip what wasn’t there. In her eyes she saw a halo of red smoke surrounding the man with the fainest tinges of

saw a halo of red smoke surrounding the man with the fainest tinges of black at its edge which would flash dark blue with every breath he took.

She had a thought in her head that was as sure as it was real, this man murdered someone close to him and had gotten away with it, he felt guilt about it still though it happened many years ago. The man suddenly ran as he felt that old memory being brought up seemingly by it’s on volition.

He ran away and didn’t look back.

Nancy felt sure she could have caught him, but looking down at the body and seeing the blood on the ground left her feeling dizzy. She felt a panic take over her mind, she had wanted to confront the man but she had lost control and gave the man a bigger asshole. The cops will be here to arrest you, she thought with a mild flutter in her heart.

There were no sounds of sirens or of people but she left quickly and found herself back on the roof tops feeling sure no one would see her up there. She thought about what she had done, what she had seen. She saw the mans thoughts, his thoughts appeared in her mind like a slide show, with each picture showing more of the man than the last.

Pictures with a smoky color hanging over each like a shimmering fog, Nancy felt sure if she kept peering into his thoughts, the pictures would have started to move hearing the spoken words as if she were watching a western on TV. She made her way back down to the streets when the sky brightened with the promise of sunrise.