Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

quickly became clear to me where Chlo had learned her stuff. Even as the man behind us fired, striking him in the shoulder, Jake lifted his right foot above his head and swung his left arm out toward Sartorius. The thug in the music room fell backwards, a huge red blot in the centre of his face where his nose had been – it appeared – kicked directly into his brain. Sartorius sank toward the floor, clutching his crushed throat; Jake’s fingers must have caught him right on the adam’s apple. I started to think Jake was upholstered in the same coating Chlo wore until I saw his jacket’s shoulder turn red. As he grabbed Sartorius by the forelock, slamming his German noggin against the new refrigerator, cracking it like an egg, Jake picked up the unbroken half of one of my records and winged it past my head. I felt something warm on the back of my neck as the thug behind me relaxed his grip, and as I turned I saw him trying to pull the record out from beneath his chin; it was slippery, and he couldn’t get a solid grip. It was fascinating, watching my ex-ghost do what he was clearly best at; everything seemed as slow-moving as it had been under the influence of Pi, and I couldn’t help but think I was having some kind of breathtaking flashback. The one behind us managed to get off another shot as he collapsed, striking Jake directly in the stomach; he leapt into the air towards Bennett, trailing streams of red and yellow. He caught my would-be druggist by the collar with one hand, picked up my cheese grater with the other; raked it across Bennett’s face, slowing him down long enough until Jake could take my corkscrew and plunge it directly into B-boy’s temple. He twisted, as if seeing what might come out.
    I huddled with Eulie, crouching in the corner. Jake stood in front of us for a second or two as if admiring his handiwork, holding his stomach. Bright and dark red blood oozed between his trembling fingers. When he looked at us he smiled; terrible teeth, but they didn’t seem to bother him.
    »Thank you,« he whispered; paused there for a second, and then fell backwards, landing heavily upon the floor.
    »Eule,« I said, wondering if anyone could hear me. »You there?«
    She nodded, and squeezed my hand in hers. As thrilling as it had been to watch, the moment it was over I began feeling as if I was going to shoot every cookie I had. Both of us stared at the five bodies on the floor. I heard doors opening elsewhere in my building, and footsteps. As we looked on, the corkscrew in Bennett’s temple vanished, replaced by what appeared to be a professional chef’s meat thermometer.
    »Let’s go,« both of us said. Stepping over Jake’s leavings, we made it out into the hall, pushing past the old lady who lived upstairs from me. We’d made the third floor landing before she began to scream. We ran into no one else before we got outside; and the moment we hit the sidewalk we took off toward Third Avenue, toward the El. I didn’t hear any sirens yet, but they’d be starting up soon enough. I was amazed by how much wind power I had left, considering. As we got close to Third I heard a train’s brakes grinding against the rails as it slowed, pulling into the 18 th Street station. With luck, I thought, we’d be able to barrel upstairs and get on, whichever direction it was heading. That didn’t happen, however; for just before we reached the stairs leading up to the station, they disappeared – the stairs, the train, the El itself; all gone, just like that.
    »Walter –«
    »I know.«
    We both looked up, and saw the same benign blue sky. As we lowered our heads we watched the tenements at the corner, fully visible for the first and only time, vanish; at once it was supplanted by some white-brick thing with sashless windows, fifteen storeys taller. I glimpsed the light changing from orange to blue, and then to red; and then to green.
    »It’s happening here, too,« I said. »But it’s different –«
    »Walter,« she said, »walk. Don’t run.«
    »Shouldn’t we –?«
    »As you note, it’s different.« She took my hand, and deliberately slowed our pace to a gentle amble. »I’m tired of running.«
    So was I; we stopped long enough to catch our breath, and watch what ensued. No one appeared to notice, or mind, anything that was happening – and there were considerable transformations in progress. We continued on, towards Park Avenue. The long whirrr of a siren turned, as we listened, into a whoop