Null was on yet another bus, this time heading to Dudley station in Roxbury going back to the squat in Mattapan. He boarded by Johnson gate in Harvard Square, going unnoticed except perhaps as being somewhat overdressed for the mild weather of the day. It wasn’t unusual for people in New England to either be over or underdressed for the weather, being that it was so changeably quirky. It was the usual diverse crowd of students, visible alcoholics, mental patients, old ladies and even a few businessmen clambering up into the bus.
Null was lucky to find a seat.
Despite being crowded in by an elderly woman with shopping bags in his dual seat, the blood that had stained his overcoat and hat went unnoticed. It occurred to him that his body was sending him messages he would have preferred not to receive. It was hard to move. His equilibrium was off. Phosphenes, like little colored ghosts, played before his eyes.
He realized this all amounted to being overtired.
He hadn’t slept for a few days, nor had he eaten. It was beginning to catch up with him.
Null determined that he actually felt fine—as much as could feel anything.
The sensations were there, however, but he simply had no mental connection to them.
He was great in his brain—it’s just that his body had a whole list of opposing ideas.
Despite the jerking, weighty stop-and-start of the bus in its hesitant progress toward Dudley Station, Null was swallowed by an enormous black shadow, far too big to fend off. It wasn’t painful, and it wasn’t pleasant; it was simply present, insistent, implacable and all-consuming. Null went with it, having no further choice to make.
Null’s chin dropped, shoulders slumped down, giving in to the weight of the Bushmaster, Heckler, Glock, machete and phone beneath his overcoat. He began snoring gently, his chest heaving, now heavy in sleep.
His slumber was dreamless, empty, as much a death as oblivion could approximate.
Null awoke to his hat being placed squarely on his head by sensitive hands.
A woman had put it there.
She wore no make-up, agate-eyed, strawberry blonde, dressed down to almost unisex in yoga pants and hooded sweatshirt, though her fully feminine shape was easily detectable beneath. She had a bright, clean smile. She sat down right next to Null in a curiously empty seat, as the bus was still fairly crowded. He noticed, blinking to clear his vision, that the bus had less than half the passengers it had when he boarded.
“Sorry to wake you up, mister, but you dropped your hat. I didn’t want to see it get messed up.” She had to shout a bit to be heard over passenger din and grumbling of the beleaguered bus.
“Thank you,” said Null.
“You must be very tired, Mr.—?”
“Null. They call me Null.”
“They call you? What do you call you?
“Null is fine.”
“My name’s Janis.”
“Thank you, Janis.”
“Well, this is my stop. Why not get off with me, unless you have other plans?”
“Not any that won’t keep.”
“Get off with me then, Mr. Null. You look all in and a bus is nowhere to sleep.”
“I think I need to sleep. More than I would have thought. It just didn’t occur to me.”
“Too much work, not enough play.”
“You could say that in one sense, then the reverse in another.”
“You’re a philosopher, I see.” The bus jerked as if to leave and she dragged him clumsily up, surprised by the uneven heft of the weaponry beneath his coat. “Let’s get off before he pulls away.”
“Fine,” agreed Null, awkwardly rising. The cumbersome settling of the weapons beneath his coat made him almost fall over. Janis grabbed him before he did.
“You’re really under the weather,” observed Janis as they descended the steps, leaving the still somewhat crowded bus.
“That could very well be,” replied Null. His footing was still unsteady and Janis took his arm to steady him as they walked off from the bus stop.
“My place is a block away. Maybe you’ll come up for a while?”
“You always invite strange men you meet on busses to visit your apartment?”
Janis laughed. “You’re not so strange, besides, you’re falling asleep on your feet. You don’t look too dangerous or threatening to me. Just worn out.”
“Again, you’re probably right.”
“What are you going to do? Slash me with a machete or something?”
“No, of course not. Absurd.”
“You’re not kidding it’s absurd. Now come with me. I won’t take no for an answer. You can have a bite to eat and take a little rest while you’re at it.”
“I’m not really hungry.”
“That’s not what your stomach says. I can hear the thing rumbling from here without having to strain.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad idea then.”
“No, Mr. Null, it certainly isn’t.”
Null actually had trouble managing the stairs to Janice’s walkup apartment in the South End off Clarendon Street, weighed down by the weaponry under his coat and immense fatigue. She grabbed him, uncertain as to whether he could handle the stairs without him, her arm around his slender waist, feeling the barrel of the Bushmaster.
The apartment was a comfortable, down-market affair with familiar furnishings from Pier One Imports and some odds and ends from Crate and Barrel. Without troubling him to remove his coat and hat, she sat him down at a table in the big center room of the place and served him a sandwich from the kitchenette, which was off to the side.
“It’s Italian cold cuts,” she said. “I was going to eat it myself, but you need it more than I do.”
“I shouldn’t be taking your food.” Deadpan. No reaction. This strangely didn’t affect how Janis dealt with him in the slightest. She was smiling.
“No biggie. I can make myself another one later. Go ahead, it won’t bite you.”
“No, I didn’t think it would.”
He wolfed down the sandwich, which was entirely gone in under five minutes.
“All I have to drink is Diet Coke. Is that all right?”
“Fine. They say it tricks your body into craving sugar, so the diet effect is mitigated. I always thought the phenylalanine was more of a concern. Anxiety and hypomania. But everything kills you no matter what you do, so a glass of that won’t amount to much harm I think.”
“Are you a scientist?”
“No, just an amateur researcher of sorts.”
“Research into what, may I ask?”
“Into human depravity.”
“Sounds messy.”
“It actually is.”
He downed the entire glass in a single gulp.
Null’s eyes began to lose focus. Shadows encroached on the center of his vision. He wavered in his chair.
“I think you’re due for that nap,” said Janis brightly.
“I think you’re right,” Null replied, slurring his speech.
Janis ushered him into her bedroom, whereupon he threw himself across the bed in a spastic motion and fell asleep instantly.
Janis stood over him and laughed, shaking her head.
* * *
“Get the fuck up, shitstain!”
“Rise and shine, fuckstick!”
Null sat up, seemingly unaffected by events that brought him there. He felt himself for his coat and the weaponry that had been beneath it, not panicking that both were gone or even displaying dull surprise.
Three large goons fit awkwardly into the modest bedroom, hulking over Null on the bed. They all wore heavy topcoats, looked to be in their early forties, gray-faced, stubbled, bleary-eyed, exuding deliberate menace.
“Stand, piece of shit.”
“Sure. Looks like this is supposed to be my comeuppance.”
“Some very influential people want you dead, fucker.”
“My name is Null. Call me Null.”
“I’ll call you dead.”
“Many people have called me that—they weren’t wrong.”
“We’re going to make them right.”
All three had pistols of various kinds. Null identified a Glock and a Sig Sauer. The other was a revolver, maybe Smith & Wesson. It was an academic point. The reality he was facing was certain death.
“You’re working with that lesbian bitch from Boston PD. No other explanation. What’s the matter with her She didn’t quite get the message with what we did to the kid?”
“Oh, she got the message all right. Which one of you is Legere?”
“He ain’t here. I don’t think you’re ever going to meet him.”
“That’s a pity,” Null said, stretching as he stood before the three goons, defenseless, outmanned and outgunned. “People in your group were so eager to have me meet him.”
“This is as close as you get, shitstain. You’ve fucked with the wrong people. Now they’re fucking you back. But good.”
“Are you going to kiss me before you fuck me?”
“Antoine, Gustav. Tune this motherfucker up.”
Two of the goons socked their pistols away in coat pockets. The biggest of the three put Null in a full nelson from behind and his cohort hammered away at his face, chest, and midsection. Null didn’t utter a sound, not even a grunt of pain. They all saw Null go limp. The lead lit a cigarette and checked his watch. It was a long time before he ordered the two to stop.
Null was slack in the big man’s grip, obviously unconscious.
The lead pocketed his pistol, checked Null for signs of consciousness and found none. “All right, so that’s that. Let’s take the fucker back to the dump so we can finish up.”
Janis appeared at the door. The lead turned and noticed her, irritated. “What the fuck are still doing here? You finished your end. You were paid.”
She had shucked the loose clothes and was now wearing makeup, a black cocktail dress and some modest jewelry. “I just wanted to look in on you and see how you were progressing.”
“Like we need you to check on us or something? Get the fuck lost. Our business with you is concluded. Take a fucking hike.”
“Sure. I will eventually. But in the meantime, let the mook loose!” She raised up Null’s Bushmaster 90291 semi-automatic rifle, primed and loaded. “It’s one of the pieces I took off him. Guy comes prepared. I reloaded the clip myself. He even carries extra rounds in his coat.”
The lead went for his coat pocket and Janis fired a burst by his feet.
“Go for your gun again and I’ll cut you in two. I think I’m probably better at handling ordnance than you are, Buster Brown.”
“Are you fucking high, you stupid bitch? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“What I’m doing is setting this Null fuck free. What you’re doing is cooperating.”
“Pound sand, bitch. We’re going to grease this little prick and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
“I think putting some of this clip in your belly will stop it. And I have enough rounds here for both of your friends as well. So, big boy, just how do you want to play it?”
“Antoine, Gustav, go fling that piece of shit at the bitch.”
They obliged and tossed Null at her like a bean bag. Or tried to, for when they released him he opened his eyes and stiffened up, fully conscious, despite the obvious damage his now swollen, bloodied, scarred face reflected.
“You’re conscious,” said Janis, nonplussed and a little unsettled.
“I always was. This was no big deal. Drop in the bucket.”
“How about saving your ass? Was that a big deal?”
“You could say that it was.”
“You could say thank you.”
“I could. You’re right. Thank you.”
“As you say, it was nothing.”
“All right, lovebirds, what’s next in this comedy of errors?”
Null grabbed the Bushmaster from Janis, who smoothly produced a nickel plated twenty-two from her purse. “It’s a small gun,” she said wryly, “but there are those who love it.”
“Been to Dartmouth?” asked Null.
“Made it to junior year, but life intervened.”
“It always does. Better than death.”
“Okay, you two, what’s it gonna be?”
“I think I’ll be leaving that up to Mr. Null.”
Antoine and Gustav were heaving with silent anger behind the lead at the door. While Null stood there holding the Bushmaster on them, Janis slipped the machete lanyard around his neck, the topcoat about his shoulders and the porkpie hat atop his head.
“You’re probably going to need some first-aid for that face,” Janis observed.
“Probably too late for that. Doesn’t matter—just more scars.”
“You’re a tough nut, Mr. Null.”
“He’s a fucking nut,” observed the lead. “And he’s destined for the grave.”
“Aren’t we all,” said Null. He turned his head toward Janis, the Bushmaster still well aimed at the three goons. “This your place?”
“Are you kidding? I outgrew that kind of thing long ago. No, it’s just a pied-a-terre for company use. God knows what shit’s gone down within these walls.”
“Well, more of it’s going to go down very soon.”
“Listen, you fucking cunt,” shouted the lead. “You welshed. People who sent me aren’t gonna be too happy they paid you a chunk a change for nothin’.”
“But it wasn’t for nothing,” Janis replied brightly. “I was paid to deliver you Null, which I did. That’s it. There was nothing in the agreement that said I had to allow you to keep him.”
“We’ll be coming for you next, chickadee, you better bank on that!” The lead just about growled that statement.
“I’ll take that bet. Because I think you’re on your last errand right here and now.”
“So, you’re good if I do what I have to do here, Janis?”
“That’s right, Mr. Null. I’m out of here.”
“Got a hot date?”
“No, you might say he’s a cold one.”
“You better think twice about what you’re doing, bitch.”
Null cooled the lead quickly with a burst from the Bushmaster right to the gut. Then he obliterated the hand that came up with the pistol, which thudded to the hardwood floor.
“Seems to me she’s thought it through already.”
“That’s my exit cue, Mr. Null. I put my card in your coat pocket along with the cell phone and the Glock. Call me sometime. You’re an interesting guy.”
“I may not be your type, Janis.”
“You’re a tough goddamn motherfucker, which is exactly my type, scars be damned. Gives you character.”
“Pretty that you think so. Paraphrasing Hemingway.”
The lead was writhing in a gathering pool of blood on the floor.
“You’ll get yours you traitorous fucking bitch!”
“Maybe, but you’re getting yours now. I know what you assholes are involved in. I know what your disgusting business is. I may have suspect morals, but I draw the line at what you do. No, I won’t stand for that. I know what Null is doing. He’s eradicating the filthy infestation that you are. Frankly, I’m on the side of that. You have to be stopped.”
Gustav screamed, “You’re done in this town, you fucking cunt. Nobody’ll hire your ass ever again!”
“Maybe, but it’s such a pretty ass I may get away with it.”
“You’re on the side of a goddamn mass murderer!”
“I am. And I’m proud of it. Maybe by the time Null’s done, there won’t be enough of you left to fuck with me. Either way, I’ll take my chances.”
“See you in fucking hell!” screamed Antoine, whose hands were held up in the same way Gustav’s were.
“Could be,” said Janis with a shrug.
“I think I can handle things from here, Janis.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Null. I have no doubt you can. But before I go, let me tell you something.”
“Tell me what?”
“No matter what anybody says, no matter how they come after you, I think you should know. I’m pretty sure you’re actually one of the good guys.”
“I don’t really abide by good and evil. Just ethics, situational dynamics.”
“Doesn’t matter, Mr. Null. You’re still one of the good guys in my book.”
“Okay. But I really need to turn my attention to the three stooges here.”
“See you around, Mr. Null.”
“It’s a possibility,” said Null.
Janis left and didn’t lock the door behind her.
“Now, gentlemen, we’re going to have a little discussion about the meaning of child abuse and how it affects our lives.”
“It doesn’t fucking affect my life, shitstain!” boasted Gustav, whose face was dotted with beads of sweat, rivulets of which cascaded down his high forehead. Antoine looked seasick, his rough stubbled face having gone pale.
“Well,” said Null equably, “it may not affect your life. But I guarantee it’ll affect your death.”