Perfect Stranger [finished]

“So, how was work?”1

“Oh, you know … the usual.”2

“Mmh…”3

“How about your day?”4

“Huh? What about it?”5

“How was it, stupid?”6

“Oh,” a laugh, “It was fine.” The young man swirled his drink idly. “Same sh-t.” He took a sip, smiling, and pushed some stray hair from an azure eye. “As always.” His companion chuckled.7

“How’s the downtown area these days? Haven’t been about there lately. I mean, is it as dark?”8

“Well, of course, James.” The blue-eyed boy chuckled amusedly, smirking, running a finger along the edge of James’s countertop, eyes wandering to the blank walls of his friend’s apartment. “What do you think?”9

“I dunno,” James admitted, grinning, “I thought maybe by now it had gotten a little better, is all.” He lifted his own glass to his lips.10

“Better!” Tristan reiterated, “It’s been dark ever since the turnover. Remember the turnover, James? — ”11

“I remember, I remember,” he interrupted, waving away the sarcasm with an exasperated hand.12

“They dunno why it is. Starting to say God’s damned it to an eternity of darkness. And it doesn’t look like He’s about to change His mind about it.” Finishing his beverage, he motioned with his hands to indicate finality.13

“Didn’t used to be dark.”14

“I know. But,” he shrugged, “It has been for eighteen years. Think it’ll all-of-a-sudden let up, just like that?” He snapped his fingers.15

“Gotta let up sometime, Tris. Never know when.” He knocked back the last of his dark amber drink and offered the glass to Tristan, who didn’t take it, but watched with curiosity his friend of nine years.16

“You think it’ll simply go away someday?”17

There was a pause. “You’re not usually one for that religious spiel, Tris. God ‘n all.”18

He shrugged again. “I’m not saying it’s God. That’s other people. I just think that something happened down there during the turnover and it’s not gonna be fixed before too long, if at all. Unless there’s another one.”19

“That won’t be anytime soon.” He waggled the glass in his grasp.20

“You’re telling me.” Tristan took it and got off his stool, walking behind the counter to the sleek metal refrigerator and pressed a button on the side of the blank-faced steel.21

“Brown beer, again, Tris,” James noted. His friend nodded, and he went on, “I dunno. I just think eighteen years’re long enough, you know? I mean, go ahead: make it even at twenty or something; but I doubt it’s gonna stick around forever.”22

The box hissed and its center opened in its smooth, circular fashion, humming very softly. Of the assorted cartons and containers of varying colours and sizes revealed inside Tristan pulled out a dark brown glass bottle and clear bottle of milky white fluid, setting them on the countertop. “Well, who knows, James? Who really knows?” He resigned quietly, putting aside argument. He pushed another button – the fridge hummed closed again, and then reopened. “Do you want ice?”23

“No thanks. Here, just hand the beer over. I can open it. Thanks.”24

Without a word, Tristan passed him the dark bottle and a bottle opener before turning back to the freezer. He drew a few of the crystal squares from a drawer to the side, pressed the last button again, and the box closed, whirring gently. Picking a glass from the confines of the cabinet, he dropped the ice into it as James fitted the metal over the cap of his bottle and pulled, snapping the top off. He handed the bottle opener to Tristan, who did the same.25

“What about those bombers?”26

“Huh?”27

“The bombers in the downtown area. They been caught yet?” James took a large swig of his drink, watching Tristan’s skewed and careful glance.28

“No … the city looks terrible because of it, though. Half of whole buildings all but missing.”29

“Buggers.” His mouth was at his glass again.30

“You know, James," Tristan replied quickly, "They’re just trying to better the city. They’re vigilantes, maybe, at worst, but someone has to be.”31

“Vigilantes? How are they going to better the city by blowing it up?”32

“You hear about the bank manager and his employees? Been embezzling citizens’ money for over twenty years now. Whole life savings wasted away.”33

“And destroying the rest of the bank will help? It’s on its last legs, that building. The frame’s about to give in, thanks to those explosives the bombers set up so graciously.”34

“Someone has to take initiative and show these corrupt higher-ups that this sort of thing is unacceptable.” But he hadn’t actually answered the question.35

“And this is what they’re doing? They aren’t actually terrorists in search of cheap thrills?”36

“No, of course not.”37

“And you would know this how?”38

A slight pause, nearly nonexistent. “I don’t. It’s an educated guess.” Tristan’s eyes were on his beer.39

James didn’t say anything more.40

“So, where were you today?” Changing the subject, Tristan tipped the contents of his bottle into the glass. It fizzled, and then went silent.41

“Outskirts.”42

“Wow – a ways away.” They sipped at their drinks. James raised his eyebrows briefly.43

“Tellin’ me. Took me two hours just to get out there.”44

“What for?”45

“Little girl with the flu. I—” There was a tinny, gargling ring, silencing James as his eyes went quickly to the telephone hanging on his wall beside his door. But it was unblinking, providing momentary confusion: no one was calling him. He hadn’t immediately noticed that Tristan had reached frantically into his pocket, muttering an apology to him. Seeing the cellular phone Tristan drew, James nodded an understanding pardon. His friend stood and took a few paces, answering the ring:46

“Hello? …Speaking.” There was a pause as the caller assumedly spoke. Tristan was turned away, facing the faceless wall. “So you have it? Good.” James took a sip of his drink. “No, the City Bank. The big grey one … yes, I know they’re all grey … it says ‘City Bank’ on the front. Can’t miss it.”47

“On Main Street,” James offered, and with a hint of a laugh dripping with cynicism, “The one with all the holes in it.”48

“Yes, on Main Street,” Tristan quickly, impatiently implemented the new information. He was silent. “Um, yeah. I’m with an old friend … What? Oh, no. Uh, he doesn’t.” Tristan shot James a sheepish glance before looking away. “Anyway, do it tonight … Yeah, we’ll finish the job. Good luck.” He ended the conversation and slipped the phone back into his pocket, returning to his seat with a smile. “I’m sorry about that.” He motioned to mean the phone call.49

“No, no; it’s all right. Don’t worry.” James returned the smile and added harmlessly, “I don’t what?”50

“Huh?”51

“You said about me that ‘I don’t’ – what were you talking about? Out of curiosity, I mean.”52

“Oh, right.” Tristan let a bark of laughter leave him and scratched his head. “Uh, you don’t work with me. That was a co-worker.”53

James swallowed a mouthful of beer. “I see. And the job to be finished?”54

“We have, um, some reports on that bank manager and his team,” Tristan bit through his scorn, “That need to be collected and sent off.”55

“Oh.”56

“But, ah…” Tristan was getting back into the groove of the conversation. “You went out there for that? For a girl with the flu? Don’t they have any preventative medicine these days?”57

James was momentarily lost, retrieving where he’d left off, but answered the question. “Yeah – us.”58

Tristan waved him off. “They have capsules for the flu, James. Even the outskirts don’t need you for curing the flu.”59

“They didn’t tell me what it was for, Tris. I just went. What if it’d been some life-or-death situation – I dunno, extensive blood loss or something? They don’t have capsules for that. And the hospitals up there don’t provide transfusions – not to say there’re any hospitals at all.”60

“So what’d you do, wave your fingers, chant a magic spell, and she was all better again?” He laughed, but James wasn’t amused.61

“Don’t be stupid. Healers don’t use spells. That’s reserved for magicians and gypsies.” He turned away with a light frown, swallowing a mouthful of beer.62

“Right. Sorry.” Tristan sipped at his own beverage, quiet a moment.63

“Where were you today?” James returned, the offense all but forgotten with his expressionless face and curious intonation.64

“Same place I always am,” he replied with a straight voice, “Downtown office building sending away crime reports to those higher on the governmental ladder. Slow goin’, I can tell you that.”65

James sneered in response. “I bet. Sounds ludicrous. Who’d sacrifice their life to something so idealistic? Those fools will never listen, anyhow.” Tristan eyed him. “Pay’s not bad, though.”66

“Naw,” Tristan agreed. “How’re your salaries, though? Last I heard you were overworked and underpaid.” He smirked at the glance James slanted his way.67

“I know – ain't it the life?” He watched his friend nod, scoffing. “Hasn’t changed a bit. And, you know, it isn’t always as easy as it used to be. It’s getting tougher what with the cancers around these days. Getting so difficult to be goddamn healthy in this world.” Out of the corner of his eye, Tristan nodded. “Ah, well … all in the job, I guess.”68

“Yeah, yeah. But going out there for a little sick girl…” He trailed off.69

James beamed dimly. “You know, Tristan, she smiled at me.”70

Tristan stopped. His eyes followed James’s gaze to the wall and back, shaking his head. “The girl?”71

James nodded, turning back to his friend. “When she was all better, she smiled … thanked me, offered me some cookies she and her mother made … invited me to stay for dinner.” He scoffed, as though it were such an outlandish request, noting, “You would have melted. Her mother almost locked me in to make me stay. Like what I’d done was so amazing. Like I’d saved her girl.”72

“Well, you did, James.”73

James looked up at his friend, pausing, tapping his fingers on the counter, and looked away again with a dubious smile. “Hardly.” He breathed. “As you said, it’s just the flu.”74

“I’m sure to them, in the outskirts especially, someone like you – someone like the benevolent healer you are – is worshipped like any God.” When James scoffed, shook his head quickly, Tristan grabbed his friend’s arm to draw his attention. “I’m serious. You must see it in their eyes.” But he laughed lightly then to pass off his sudden passion as momentary insanity, seeing the confused look in James’s face, and let go of his arm. “You spend way more time out there than me to be certain, but I know they must see you as some angel or something – know?”75

James took a moment to answer, digesting this. “Yes,” he admitted slowly. His eyes were glued to Tristan’s, who was almost in that moment like one of those mangy feral dogs caught in the headlights of the speedy automatics on the roadways, unable to turn away and feeling quite uncovered. Soon enough, Tristan ran away from James’s headlights, quaffing the rest of his creamy-looking drink, obstinately avoiding the bright eyes, yet so inconspicuously it might have been overlooked had James not heard what Tristan had said previously.76

“Look,” James began loudly, “You don’t have to hide it from me. God knows why I haven’t brought this up before—”77

Tristan sputtered a bit, covering his mouth with his hand. He coughed. “What?” His blue eyes were narrow, focusing bewilderedly on his friend and his outburst.78

“Don’t play the fool, Tris. No shame in being an outskirter.” But James laughed as he said this.79

“What! How dare you accuse me of being so lowly!” All of a sudden the eyes were hugely round and screaming of obscenities and panic.80

“An outlander outskirter, too. I can see why you hide it!”81

“I can’t believe you! I’ve known you nine years and now you call me an outskirter? an outlander? Of all things–!”82

“It’s true. Why haven’t you ever told me yourself? What does that say about our friendship?”83

“It’s not true!”84

“Look here.” He reached over the countertop towards Tristan’s face, who flinched gently, and James stopped. But, stilling, the young man watched as his friend’s hand came closer, lighting just before his ear. He looked up and away out the corner of his eyes at the ceiling. “These freckles aren’t from Nouveau M’nHatten. But normal people wouldn’t know that – then again, I’m not normal.” He traced his finger up the side of his friend’s face. “And the black dot, here – now it’s grey –” He pointed to Tristan’s temple, brushing hair away meant to cover the mark, “Means you were apart of the outskirt town west of the river. Or was it east? I can’t remember now. You know better than I do.”85

Stunned, Tristan slapped James’s hand away, his eyes darkening at his laughter. James sipped at his beer. “How do you know these things?” Tristan demanded.86

“Healer Extraordinaire at your service if you please,” James recited dramatically, sniggering again. “It’s my job to know other people’s bodies. Out of curiosity, how many years did you spend rubbing that black dot away?”87

Tristan looked at his drink, closing his eyes, a deep frown on his mouth. “I thought it was gone already.” He sighed morosely, a look of utter defeat creasing his face. James didn’t respond. It was quiet for a while, each listening to the other breathe. There was a deliberate pause on Tristan’s part, a stagnation in the air that caused James to pay instant attention to his friend. He waited patiently for dialogue.88

“You aren’t going to turn me in, are you?” Tristan’s eyes were still closed. James peered at him carefully, as though solving some puzzle, unlocking some secret as carefully as though there was no secret. Silently, he reached out over the counter to grab Tristan’s shoulder and squeeze it, almost too comfortingly, almost jokingly. The blue eyes found his. James was smiling, but it faltered, hand drawing away as James inspected Tristan’s shirt.89

“You’ve got some dust on you!” He observed, drawing his hand away to wipe it on his knee. Tristan eyed him with a smile.90

“Yeah. Those files can get real filthy, know?” Soon the smile fell away, though. James’s did not and he chuckled.91

“Yeah, tellin’ me.” He looked back to his companion. “But do you truly think I’d turn you over?” He steered the conversation back on track. “Well? Do you?”92

Tristan glanced away again.93

“Come on, what do you take me for?” His voice was playful, poking fun.94

Tristan looked back.95

“You think your best friend would turn you over to those blood-sucking police? They don’t know what the f-ck they’re doing half the time.” James laughed at Tristan’s smile. “Don’t be so goddamn frightened.”96

“I’m not frightened.”97

“Good.”98

“Just, it’s … I mean, if you can tell I’m not from here so easily—“99

“Yeah, after ten years of learning every nuance of the human body.”100

Tristan watched him with big blue eyes, idly touching his glass. James’s gaze went quietly to Tristan’s blackened fingertips, the careless little burns on his hands, but quickly returned the stare and grinned.101

“Don’t look at me like that.” James pointed accusingly.102

“Like what?”103

“Like that.”104

“—Won’t other people be able to tell, too?”105

“Where’d you come from?”106

Tristan frowned. “You didn’t answer my question.”107

“You didn’t answer mine, either,” James remarked, using his forefinger.108

“Answer mine first. I asked before you.”109

“I will after you answer mine.”110

Tristan’s frown deepened, his eyes wandering. “Up North.” And, when James looked at him expectantly, he rolled his eyes behind their lids. “I crossed the bridge, all right? Sib’riah.”111

“Long way, man.” James raised his eyebrows, taking a swig of his beer.112

“Now you answer my question.”113

“Only if they look closely enough. Outlanders aren’t very welcome in North America, but they aren’t unwelcome, so the freckles’ll only get you some stares. Don’t worry. Just hide that dot of yours. Keep rubbing it and it ought to go away eventually. No one’ll notice it if you don’t give them an opportunity, Tris.” He sipped at the bottle again, watching Tristan’s silence intently. With a swallow, he softened his gaze. “Look, Tristan: I’m not going to send you off to jail. I promise.” The only response to this at first was a deep breath and equally deep exhalation. “I promise you. Do you understand?”114

“You’ll be sorry if you go back on your word, James, I swear you will.”115

James laughed. “So, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t from here, again?”116

“It was a slip of my mind.”117

“Uh-huh, sure.”118

“No, really. When I first met you, it was too risky. The bounties for illegal outskirters in the cities these days have always been too high to pass up, know?” He continued when James nodded. “So I didn’t trust you – nothing personal. And then it faded from memory. Something you don’t think about every day.”119

“How high are the bounties, again? I mean, I haven’t been listening to the news.”120

“I think it’s something like five hundred grand now. American dollars, that is.”121

“Mm-hmm. So, hypothetical situation: if I decided suddenly that I was going to be a liar and point a gun at you like so—” He pulled a pistol from his belt, the barrel finding its way in between Tristan’s eyes immediately, the poor boy not even having time to move or squeak, “—What would you do?” Very nonchalant, James took a look at the extremely astonished Tristan before grabbing the bottle of beer and taking a sip. “I mean, considering the high bounty ‘n all, I’d have the motive and the means and still be totally justified in killing an outskirter illegally masquerading as a middle-class citizen. They still take the bounties dead or alive, right?”122

“Yes, that’s right…” Tristan replied distantly, detached, trying to ignore the barrel at his forehead.123

“So, what’d you do?”124

“Where’d you get that from?” Still so quiet, still so faint.125

“Oh, this?” He pulled the gun away from Tristan’s head, turning it over in his hands for his friend’s benefit. The glazed blue eyes went to the gun and back to James. “Weaponry. Forget the name of the store.”126

“When was this?” Tristan squinted, unsure.127

“A while ago. Ever since they started putting me out in the outskirts I’ve liked to have this with me. I mean, never know what you can run into up there.” He replaced the muzzle. “So, Tris, what’d you do?” There was a pause. “Don’t worry, you nut, it’s not loaded. You think I’d pull a loaded gun on you?”128

“My God…” Tristan’s eyes closed, taking a deep breath. “You -ss.”129

James smiled and downed the rest of what was in his bottle. “Yes, I know. But, anyway,” he said, swallowing, “Go on.”130

“What?”131

“What would you do if I pulled a gun on you?” There wasn’t an answer at first. “With the full intent of shooting you?” He added to drive the point home.132

“Nothing.”133

“Aww, come on. Don’t be so boring.”134

“Well, whaddaya want me to say? Something like ‘Please, James! We’ve been friends for nine whole years!’ ” Without thinking, he’d stepped into the role, beginning to play along.135

James grinned and laughed, motioning for him to continue. “Go on.”136

“ ‘You wouldn’t do this to your best friend, would you? Come on! We’re best buds!’ ” He clasped his hands together, catching quickly onto the game.137

“ ‘I dunno, man…’ ” James joined in, contributing his part of the coldhearted traitor.138

“ ‘ C’mon, James! Please spare me!’ ” They were laughing, now, smiling, fooling around. Tristan moved his hands meaningfully, dramatically, his facial expressions wildly exaggerated. “ ‘After all we’ve been through, you wouldn’t kill me, would you?’ ”139

“ ‘It’s a lot of money, Tristan. Mighty tempting.’ ”140

“ ‘You wouldn’t kill someone for just money!’ ”141

“ ‘When is it ever for something different!’ ” He laughed.142

“ ‘Ah, James, how material!’ ”143

“ ‘Well, see you in hell, Tristan.’ ” He cupped his chin. “Or should I say something more eloquent? ‘Ah, fair Tristan, I knew him well.’ Or thought I did.” They smiled.144

“ ‘May God have mercy on your soul!’ ”145

“How very fitting, Tristan! I wish my last words to you had been so flawless!” He snickered.146

“Oh, just shoot me already.” They laughed.147

“Goodbye, Tristan.” He pulled the trigger back.148

There was a flash of light and, silenced as the pistol was, there was no noise save for the whisper of the bullet piercing Tristan’s skull. All was quiet and soundless for a moment, the shot too straight and the aim too perfect. An equivocating eternity passed James before what remained of his friend’s body hit the floor with a sickening thud. Drawing the weapon back towards him, James blew the smoke away, the smell of gunshot invading his nostrils pleasantly and with familiarity. With ease and calm, he replaced the pistol in its holster, drew a cell phone from his pocket, and dialed a number. 149

*150

“Would you go over that once more, sir?” The detective had his notepad out, a pen ready in his hand.151

“It was a trap. I’ve told your officers already: I knew he was posing as middle-class; I just needed the proof. I gave you the sound byte chip. Once I got it, I shot him. Simple.” James was busy wiping blood off his hands with a dishtowel.152

“Sounds open-shut, sir. But, just to be safe, would you mind remaining in Nouveau M’nHatten for a week? Consider the temporary ‘house arrest’, if you will, over in exactly seven days from now. It’s much easier for us if you cooperate, so we’re able to contact you, don’t have to chase you … your word may be useful in further investigation of this young man.”153

“I’m actually inclined, officer, to suspect that this man has been part of a bombing team that’s recently been terrorizing the downtown area of your fine city.” No harm in adding a little flattery. “There are burns on his hands and his fingers are black from powder.”154

There was a moment’s apprehension. “I see. We’ll look at it as soon as we bring the body to the morgue. We will investigate further as to whether these allegations are true.”155

James nodded and smiled thinly.156

“If you’re right, it’s a shame you had to kill him; we might have gotten some information out of him.” He glanced towards the corpse. “Well, sir, thank you anyway for the phone call and helping us to cleanse our streets.” The detective tipped his hat in light gratitude. “We’ll just be taking that away, now.” He pointed to Tristan’s immaculately-clean-white-sheet covered body. Immediately, the precinct photographers ceased to flash as two policemen placed the body on a stretcher and carried it out the door. “The clean up crew will be by soon enough to restore the apartment.” He pulled a plastic card from his side pocket and offered it to James, who abstained from accepting it. “Your reward, sir,” the policeman prompted. James stood for a moment, pensive.157

“There’s a bonus for tip-offs, right? Especially on the numerous … vigilante bombers you’re having trouble with … correct?”158

The detective paused for a moment, digesting. He began to think, decided against it, and pulled his hand back, digging something from his inner breast pocket. He drew another plastic card and held it out to James, who took it. “The bounty you are entitled to, sir. Double the normal bounty, one million American dollars.” He did not seem all that pleased and did not hide his confusion well, though that appeared to be all it was. “Thank you for keeping our streets safer.” A recited line. A smile. James nearly scoffed.159

“Thank you.” James held up the card.160

“No, thank you, sir, for your cooperation.” He tipped his hat again, grinning. Have an excellent day, sir.”161

“You, too.”162

The police were gone.163

Slapping the card in his hand a few times, James turned around, humming to himself softly as he walked into the bedroom. Quieting, he pulled a drawer open and placed the gold and blue card carefully on top of the mass of hundreds of other green bounty cards he’d received over the years. Admiring his work, James leaned against the chest of drawers. One million American dollars; what wonders he could do with that. Smiling, he shut it. And, resigning himself to the bed nearby, he sat, dug out of his pants the cell phone he had purloined from Tristan’s pocket, and set it on his bedside table. He’d check the caller history later on; the wealth of possible tips and rewards it was lingered in his mind with satisfaction. Laying back, he laced his fingers up behind his skull and closed his eyes.164

‘Yep. All in the job, Tristan, all in the job.’165

“It’s been a long day,” he said to himself, “Just sleep now…” Immediately his breath began to deepen, the grin relaxing into his face. He seemed to fall into deep sleep, but once more he stirred, turning over on his side.166

“May God have mercy on my damned soul and Amen.” He smiled. And, with that, James faded to slumber.