Null drove a flat black painted Ford Escort from back in the 90s to University Place off Beacon, to the retrofitted help center—multi-service center it would have been called decades ago, with new MSWs and humanities graduates dealing with social awareness of issues of alternative sexuality, STDs, runaways, drugs, all for a pittance or a stipend long ago when youth was far more epidemic. Now, the parcel of prime rental real estate was occupied by the Dapper O'Neil Shelter and Service Group, a final stopgap before the street for dispossessed gay men. But he wasn’t even sure it did that anymore. Ever since the death of Kenny Embers, he no longer knew exactly what social service Dapper O’Neil provided but he knew one thing:
Ruth Coelacanth was still there.
The replacement institutional door was mismatched with the concrete façade of the building with a window cross-hatched by chicken wire. He had to be buzzed in by some weedy looking graduate student with stringy hair, a slouching gait and hollow eyes. Null elbowed past him and some older looking volunteers to where he remembered Ruth Coelacanth’s office should be.
The door was open.
The hour was late, especially for a halfway house, social services stopover for the doomed, but there she was, hunched over at her desk typing on a generations-too-old laptop. He watched her for a moment, silent and still, and he remained invisible to her. He broke the silence in a small voice.
“Mrs. Coelacanth.”
She started in her seat, then rose up abruptly from the desk.
“You!” she scolded, approaching him warily.
“You remember me?”
“Yes, Mr. Null. I remember you.”
“It’s been awhile.”
“Not nearly long enough.”
“It seems a lot of people feel that way about it.”
“Your protégé left us long ago. I can’t tell you anything about him.”
“I know what happened. He’s dead.”
“I can’t say that’s unexpected from what I see here every day.”
“No, it wasn’t unexpected.”
“May I ask?”
“I ripped a knife out of his chest and he bled to death.”
Silence and obvious disquiet affected Ruth Coelacanth as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She took a hard breath.
“You didn’t kill him?”
“I made it happen, but there was no way it wasn’t going to happen. And the ones that took him out don’t walk the earth anymore.”
“What in God’s name do you want from me, Mr. Null?”
“I need to know what to do with some children.”
Her face was deeply perplexed, as if she were waking from an absurd dream.
“I don’t understand.”
Null seemed patient, relaxed. “It’s simple: I am going to have a bunch of children and I need to find a place to put them.”
“What kind of children?”
“All kinds.”
“Are you taunting me, Mr. Null?”
“No, honestly, I’m not.”
“Where are the children and where are they coming from?”
“I don’t know exactly where they are, and they’re from a kiddie porn business that very soon is going to go belly up.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“It’s a fact.”
“Mr. Null, do you know what you’re talking about? Do you know what you’re actually saying?”
“I’m not sure I do, when you think about it.”
“You mean when you think about it—I’m not about to!”
“No need to get excited.”
“Well, it’s monstrous.” Beads of sweat had collected across her furrowed brow just below the hairline where the hair was a grim, grayish white. Her rimless glasses hung heavy on her face. She looked frumpy and tired, but her eyes burned.
“From where are you getting these children? This really isn’t a set up for children, you know. They can’t stay here.”
“You’re the only person I know who might be able to help me. I travel in a much different circle than you do.”
“I don’t want to know about that.”
“You don’t.”
“How many children are we talking about, and knowing the age range would be helpful?”
“All ages, but none in their late teens, I think.”
“You think. Finding an available bed these days just for one child even for one night is an exhausting problem.” She let the silence mount as Null considered what she was saying. “It’s all about beds,” she said wearily, shuffling over to her desk and sitting back down at it. “A bed means a place to stay, period, not just a place to sleep, although sometimes it can mean just that.”
“Then you’ll be needing some beds.”
“And how many beds would that be, Mr. Null?”
“Approximately two-hundred-twenty-five of them, give or take.”
Silence again glissading over palpable shock. Mrs. Coelacanth blinked once, swallowed something back and sputtered, “That can’t be real. Give or take.”
“Granted. It’s an approximation. There very well may be some attrition involved. I don’t know how many of them have died since the last headcount was done. The comptroller wasn’t able to get very specific when I—”
“I don’t really need to know that, do I, Mr. Null?”
“No, I suppose you don’t.”
“What happened to so many children? Have you seen them, evaluated them, even spoken with them?”
“No, I only saw them accounted for in a spreadsheet. I’ll have to take inventory myself when I find them. I don’t know where they are. I only have the corporate books.”
“Corporate books? What kind of corporation does such things?”
“A profitable one.”
“Well, if you know the company name, and the particulars, why not let the police handle it?”
“Because they’ll be too fair to those involved. Give them a shot at justice, plea deals, or maybe just blow the whole thing on clumsy forensics, bad evidence chain of custody and legal technicalities. I can’t allow that.”
“It’s how justice works, Mr. Null.”
“Not this time.”
“And why is that?”
“This is not about judgment. This is only about execution. Guilt is presumed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I am going to kill them all. Every single last one of them. Down to the zero.”
She raised her hands to her ears reflexively but did not cover them. “Don’t tell me that, please. I can’t hear that. Don’t tell me that. I don’t want to know anything at all about that.”
“Okay, Mrs. Coelacanth. That’s my business. Finding beds is yours.”
“I have no idea how I’m going to do it.”
“But are you going to do it?”
She sat back and sighed, removed her glasses and wiped the lenses thoughtfully with her sweater. “Yes, I’m going to do it. If what you’re saying is true, someone will have to do it.”
“And it might as well be you?”
“Who else have we got?”
“That is exactly my point, Mrs. Coelacanth.”
“Do you know anything about kiddie porn, Mr. Null?”
“No, I don’t think I do beyond the basic idea.”
“Well, for the children, it’s the deepest kind of hell. They come from abuse, torment and rape, from terrible parents who should be criminally prosecuted. Some of them are kidnapped, lured in by the Internet by some kind of catfishing game. Some younger ones are kidnapped right out of their bedrooms at night and never heard from again. The rest tend to be fall-offs and runaways from the overtaxed foster care system, which is likely where you’re proposing we put these children if and when we get them.”
“I know all that I think,” Null said flatly.
“Do you, Mr. Null? Because these are not going to be easy, happy children grateful for your rescue—they’ll fight you tooth and nail.”
“But why?”
“You’ll be taking away from them the only stability they’ve ever known. It’s all they trust as much as they trust anything at all.”
The shadows gathered from the darkening windows as the late spring sun was setting at last throughout the spacious, dusty office with books and papers and archival boxes scattered hither and thither. “They certainly won’t trust me,” replied Null coldly.
“Why would they? You’re a murderous intruder taking away the only protection they have.”
“The protection of their abusers, their rapists, their—”
“Family, Mr. Null. We’re talking about their family.”
“How can they be that?”
“Because the monsters bond with them, imitate kindness and affection. The little ones give in, and the big ones too. The monsters then claim the child wants sex with them, is happy about it, more than complicit, insisting they were asking for it. It’s a twisted thing where even the once innocent child doesn’t understand the difference between good and evil anymore.”
“I’m not sure I do,” said Null, pondering what she had said.
“Well, I’m sure you do.”
“You’re saying this is a lost cause, Mrs. Coelacanth.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“The system can’t absorb them.”
“There is no system anymore, Mr. Null. The Republicans cut it all away. It’s been going on for the past thirty years since Reagan chucked all the Federally funded mental patients out onto the street and singlehandedly created the homeless population. There’s only scattershot remains where we can try and put them, maybe even some places out of state.”
“Maybe you could do that then, Mrs. Coelacanth. Maybe you’re just the person to handle it. I don’t think I could. My interpersonal skills are a bit—lacking.”
“I can see that.”
“Just get the beds. I’ll do the rest. Can I bring them here?”
“I don’t know. They have to go someplace, although I have no beds here at the moment.”
“Some other place?”
“There is no other pace. Frustrating man. Yes, bring them here.”
“At all hours?”
“The last set of volunteers leave at 10:00 p.m.. After that, call my cell. You still have the number?”
“I do.”
“Try not to call.”
“I won’t.”
“There’s something else you need to think about before you go.”
“What is that?”
“They’re all drug addicts.”
“They drug the kids?”
“They say they don’t, that the little ones tire out easily and become complicit, but the truth is they keep them all drugged as much as possible. Heroin and fentanyl are a cheap deal on the street, a quick score, makes it easy to give in, and I’m sure you know all about the meth that keeps them lively. This city has a meth problem as you know.”
Null registered a look of surprise at her statement. “You’re saying I contribute to this?”
“What do you think, Mr. Null?”
“I can’t control that.”
“Exactly, Mr. Null—no one can control it. It touches everyone in the same way or other. You can’t stop it, you’re not going to be the one who ends it. No doubt it will end you.”
“You could be right. But I have a lot of luck with things like this.”
“You’re going to need it.”
“Nevertheless, it’s got to be done.”
“You’ll never be able to do it. And it’s bigger than just Boston.”
“I know, but I can at least make a dent. What have I got to lose?”
“Your life, for one,” Mrs. Coelacanth sighed, shaking her head.
“It’s not much of a life and it won’t be much of a loss.”
“I wish you luck all the same, Mr. Null.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” Null began to blend in with the shadows as he turned and walked to the door. Before he shut it when he was out of the room, he heard her voice behind him yet again.
“Mr. Null, wait.”
He turned to her. “What?”
“When you do what I know you’re going to do, will you do something for me as well?”
“Sure. What is it?”
Her voice was cheery and she blinked once.
“Kill every single one of those goddamn bastards you find for me too!”