MIT Press Bookstore: Building E38, 77 Massachusetts Ave., Cam-bridge, MA USA 02139-4307 +1 617 253 5249Here's the email that went out at 7AM the next day, while Ange and Iwere spray-painting VAMP-MOB CIVIC7 CENTER -> -> at strategic loca-tions around town.
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RULES FOR VAMPMOB>
You are part of a clan8 of daylight vampires9. You've discovered thesecret of surviving the terrible light of the sun. The secret was cannibal-ism: the blood of another vampire10 can give you the strength to walkamong the living.
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You need to bite as many other vampires as you can in order to stay inthe game. If one minute goes by without a bite, you're out. Once you'reout, turn your shirt around backwards11 and go referee12 — watch two orthree vamps to see if they're getting their bites in.
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251To bite another vamp, you have to say "Bite!" five times before they do.
So you run up to a vamp, make eye-contact, and shout "bite bite bite bitebite!" and if you get it out before she does, you live and she crumbles13 todust.
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You and the other vamps you meet at your rendezvous15 are a team.
They are your clan. You derive16 no nourishment17 from their blood.
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You can "go invisible" by standing18 still and folding your arms overyour chest. You can't bite invisible vamps, and they can't bite you.
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This game is played on the honor system. The point is to have fun andget your vamp on, not to win.
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There is an end-game that will be passed by word of mouth as winnersbegin to emerge. The game-masters will start a whisper campaignamong the players when the time comes. Spread the whisper as quicklyas you can and watch for the sign.
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M1k3y>
bite bite bite bite bite!
We'd hoped that a hundred people would be willing to playVampMob. We'd sent out about two hundred invites each. But when Isat bolt upright at 4AM and grabbed my Xbox, there were 400 repliesthere. Four hundred.
I fed the addresses to the bot and stole out of the house. I descendedthe stairs, listening to my father snore and my mom rolling over in theirbed. I locked the door behind me.
At 4:15 AM, Potrero Hill was as quiet as the countryside. There weresome distant traffic rumbles14, and once, a car crawled past me. I stoppedat an ATM and drew out $320 in twenties, rolled them up and put arubber-band around them, and stuck the roll in a zip-up pocket low onthe thigh19 of my vampire pants.
I was wearing my cape20 again, and a ruffled21 shirt, and tuxedo22 pantsthat had been modded to have enough pockets to carry all my little bits252and pieces. I had on pointed23 boots with silver-skull buckles24, and I'dteased my hair into a black dandelion clock around my head. Ange wasbringing the white makeup25 and had promised to do my eyeliner andblack nail-polish. Why the hell not? When was the next time I was goingto get to play dressup like this?
Ange met me in front of her house. She had her backpack on too, andfishnet tights, a ruffled gothic lolita maid's dress, white face-paint, elab-orate kabuki eye-makeup, and her fingers and throat dripped with silverjewelry.
"You look great!" we said to each other in unison27, then laughed quietlyand stole off through the streets, spray-paint cans in our pockets.
As I surveyed Civic Center, I thought about what it would look likeonce 400 VampMobbers converged28 on it. I expected them in ten minutes,out front of City Hall. Already the big plaza29 teemed30 with commuterswho neatly31 sidestepped the homeless people begging there.
I've always hated Civic Center. It's a collection of huge wedding-cakebuildings: court houses, museums, and civic buildings like City Hall. Thesidewalks are wide, the buildings are white. In the tourist guides to SanFrancisco, they manage to photograph it so that it looks like EpcotCenter, futuristic and austere32.
But on the ground, it's grimy and gross. Homeless people sleep on allthe benches. The district is empty by 6PM except for drunks and drug-gies, because with only one kind of building there, there's no legit reasonfor people to hang around after the sun goes down. It's more like a mallthan a neighborhood, and the only businesses there are bail-bondsmenand liquor stores, places that cater33 to the families of crooks34 on trial andthe bums35 who make it their nighttime home.
I really came to understand all of this when I read an interview withan amazing old urban planner, a woman called Jane Jacobs who was thefirst person to really nail why it was wrong to slice cities up with free-ways, stick all the poor people in housing projects, and use zoning lawsto tightly control who got to do what where.
Jacobs explained that real cities are organic and they have a lot of vari-ety — rich and poor, white and brown, Anglo and Mex, retail36 and resid-ential and even industrial. A neighborhood like that has all kinds ofpeople passing through it at all hours of the day or night, so you get253businesses that cater to every need, you get people around all the time,acting like eyes on the street.
You've encountered this before. You go walking around some olderpart of some city and you find that it's full of the coolest looking stores,guys in suits and people in fashion-rags, upscale restaurants and funkycafes, a little movie theater maybe, houses with elaborate paint-jobs.
Sure, there might be a Starbucks too, but there's also a neat-looking fruitmarket and a florist37 who appears to be three hundred years old as shesnips carefully at the flowers in her windows. It's the opposite of aplanned space, like a mall. It feels like a wild garden or even a woods:
like it grew.
You couldn't get any further from that than Civic Center. I read an in-terview with Jacobs where she talked about the great old neighborhoodthey knocked down to build it. It had been just that kind of neighbor-hood, the kind of place that happened without permission or rhyme orreason.
Jacobs said that she predicted that within a few years, Civic Centerwould be one of the worst neighborhoods in the city, a ghost-town atnight, a place that sustained a thin crop of weedy booze shops and flea-pit motels. In the interview, she didn't seem very glad to have been vin-dicated; she sounded like she was talking about a dead friend when shedescribed what Civic Center had become.
Now it was rush hour and Civic Center was as busy at it could be. TheCivic Center BART also serves as the major station for Muni trolley38 lines,and if you need to switch from one to another, that's where you do it. At8AM, there were thousands of people coming up the stairs, going downthe stairs, getting into and out of taxis and on and off buses. They gotsqueezed by DHS checkpoints by the different civic buildings, androuted around aggressive panhandlers. They all smelled like their sham-poos and colognes, fresh out of the shower and armored in their worksuits, swinging laptop bags and briefcases39. At 8AM, Civic Center wasbusiness central.
And here came the vamps. A couple dozen coming down Van Ness, acouple dozen coming up Market. More coming from the other side ofMarket. More coming up from Van Ness. They slipped around the sideof the buildings, wearing the white face-paint and the black eyeliner,black clothes, leather jackets, huge stompy40 boots. Fishnet fingerlessgloves.
254They began to fill up the plaza. A few of the business people gavethem passing glances and then looked away, not wanting to let theseweirdos into their personal realities as they thought about whatever crapthey were about to wade42 through for another eight hours. The vampsmilled around, not sure when the game was on. They pooled together inlarge groups, like an oil spill in reverse, all this black gathering43 in oneplace. A lot of them sported old-timey hats, bowlers44 and toppers. Manyof the girls were in full-on elegant gothic lolita maid costumes with hugeplatforms.
I tried to estimate the numbers. 200. Then, five minutes later, it was300. 400. They were still streaming in. The vamps had brought friends.
Someone grabbed my ass6. I spun45 around and saw Ange, laughing sohard she had to hold her thighs46, bent47 double.
"Look at them all, man, look at them all!" she gasped48. The square wastwice as crowded as it had been a few minutes ago. I had no idea howmany Xnetters there were, but easily 1000 of them had just showed up tomy little party. Christ.
The DHS and SFPD cops were starting to mill around, talking intotheir radios and clustering together. I heard a far-away siren.
"All right," I said, shaking Ange by the arm. "All right, let's go."We both slipped off into the crowd and as soon as we encountered ourfirst vamp, we both said, loudly, "Bite bite bite bite bite!" My victim wasa stunned49 — but cute — girl with spider-webs drawn50 on her hands andsmudged mascara running down her cheeks. She said, "Crap," andmoved away, acknowledging that I'd gotten her.
The call of "bite bite bite bite bite" had scrambled51 the other nearbyvamps. Some of them were attacking each other, others were moving forcover, hiding out. I had my victim for the minute, so I skulked53 away, us-ing mundanes for cover. All around me, the cry of "bite bite bite bitebite!" and shouts and laughs and curses.
The sound spread like a virus through the crowd. All the vamps knewthe game was on now, and the ones who were clustered together weredropping like flies. They laughed and cussed and moved away, clueingthe still-in vamps that the game was on. And more vamps were arrivingby the second.
8:16. It was time to bag another vamp. I crouched54 low and movedthrough the legs of the straights as they headed for the BART stairs. Theyjerked back with surprise and swerved55 to avoid me. I had my eyes laser-255locked on a set of black platform boots with steel dragons over the toes,and so I wasn't expecting it when I came face to face with another vamp,a guy of about 15 or 16, hair gelled straight back and wearing a PVCMarilyn Manson jacket draped with necklaces of fake tusks56 carved withintricate symbols.
"Bite bite bite —" he began, when one of the mundanes tripped overhim and they both went sprawling57. I leapt over to him and shouted "bitebite bite bite bite!" before he could untangle himself again.
More vamps were arriving. The suits were really freaking out. Thegame overflowed58 the sidewalk and moved into Van Ness, spreading uptoward Market Street. Drivers honked59, the trolleys60 made angry dings. Iheard more sirens, but now traffic was snarled61 in every direction.
It was freaking glorious.
BITE BITE BITE BITE BITE!
The sound came from all around me. There were so many vampsthere, playing so furiously, it was like a roar. I risked standing up andlooking around and found that I was right in the middle of a giant crowdof vamps that went as far as I could see in every direction.
BITE BITE BITE BITE BITE!
This was even better than the concert in Dolores Park. That had beenangry and rockin', but this was — well, it was just fun. It was like goingback to the playground, to the epic62 games of tag we'd play on lunchbreaks when the sun was out, hundreds of people chasing each otheraround. The adults and the cars just made it more fun, more funny.
That's what it was: it was funny. We were all laughing now.
But the cops were really mobilizing now. I heard helicopters. Anysecond now, it would be over. Time for the endgame.
I grabbed a vamp.
"Endgame: when the cops order us to disperse63, pretend you've beengassed. Pass it on. What did I just say?"The vamp was a girl, tiny, so short I thought she was really young, butshe must have been 17 or 18 from her face and the smile. "Oh, that'swicked," she said.
"What did I say?""Endgame: when the cops order us to disperse, pretend you've beengassed. Pass it on. What did I just say?""Right," I said. "Pass it on."256She melted into the crowd. I grabbed another vamp. I passed it on. Hewent off to pass it on.
Somewhere in the crowd, I knew Ange was doing this too. Somewherein the crowd, there might be infiltrators, fake Xnetters, but what couldthey do with this knowledge? It's not like the cops had a choice. Theywere going to order us to disperse. That was guaranteed.
I had to get to Ange. The plan was to meet at the Founder's Statue inthe Plaza, but reaching it was going to be hard. The crowd wasn't mov-ing anymore, it was surging, like the mob had in the way down to theBART station on the day the bombs went off. I struggled to make myway through it just as the PA underneath64 the helicopter switched on.
"THIS IS THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY. YOUARE ORDERED TO DISPERSE IMMEDIATELY."Around me, hundreds of vamps fell to the ground, clutching theirthroats, clawing at their eyes, gasping65 for breath. It was easy to fake be-ing gassed, we'd all had plenty of time to study the footage of the parti-ers in Mission Dolores Park going down under the pepper-spray clouds.
"DISPERSE IMMEDIATELY."I fell to the ground, protecting my pack, reaching around to the redbaseball hat folded into the waistband of my pants. I jammed it on myhead and then grabbed my throat and made horrendous66 retching noises.
The only ones still standing were the mundanes, the salarymen who'dbeen just trying to get to their jobs. I looked around as best as I could atthem as I choked and gasped.
"THIS IS THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY. YOUARE ORDERED TO DISPERSE IMMEDIATELY. DISPERSEIMMEDIATELY." The voice of god made my bowels67 ache. I felt it in mymolars and in my femurs and my spine68.
The salarymen were scared. They were moving as fast as they could,but in no particular direction. The helicopters seemed to be directly over-head no matter where you stood. The cops were wading69 into the crowdnow, and they'd put on their helmets. Some had shields. Some had gasmasks. I gasped harder.
Then the salarymen were running. I probably would have run too. Iwatched a guy whip a $500 jacket off and wrap it around his face beforeheading south toward Mission, only to trip up and go sprawling. Hiscurses joined the choking sounds.
257This wasn't supposed to happen — the choking was just supposed tofreak people out and get them confused, not panic them into a stampede.
There were screams now, screams I recognized all too well from thenight in the park. That was the sound of people who were scared spit-less, running into each other as they tried like hell to get away.
And then the air-raid sirens began.
I hadn't heard that sound since the bombs went off, but I would neverforget it. It sliced through me and went straight into my balls, turningmy legs into jelly on the way. It made me want to run away in a panic. Igot to my feet, red cap on my head, thinking of only one thing: Ange.
Ange and the Founders70' Statue.
Everyone was on their feet now, running in all directions, screaming. Ipushed people out of my way, holding onto my pack and my hat, head-ing for Founders' Statue. Masha was looking for me, I was looking forAnge. Ange was out there.
I pushed and cursed. Elbowed someone. Someone came down on myfoot so hard I felt something go crunch71 and I shoved him so he wentdown. He tried to get up and someone stepped on him. I shoved andpushed.
Then I reached out my arm to shove someone else and strong handsgrabbed my wrist and my elbow in one fluid motion and brought myarm back around behind my back. It felt like my shoulder was about towrench out of its socket72, and I instantly doubled over, hollering, a soundthat was barely audible over the din5 of the crowd, the thrum of the chop-pers, the wail73 of the sirens.
I was brought back upright by the strong hands behind me, whichsteered me like a marionette74. The hold was so perfect I couldn't eventhink of squirming. I couldn't think of the noise or the helicopter orAnge. All I could think of was moving the way that the person who hadme wanted me to move. I was brought around so that I was face-to-facewith the person.
It was a girl whose face was sharp and rodent-like, half-hidden by agiant pair of sunglasses. Over the sunglasses, a mop of bright pink hair,spiked out in all directions.
"You!" I said. I knew her. She'd taken a picture of me and threatened torat me out to truant75 watch. That had been five minutes before the alarmsstarted. She'd been the one, ruthless and cunning. We'd both run fromthat spot in the Tenderloin as the klaxon sounded behind us, and we'd258both been picked up by the cops. I'd been hostile and they'd decided76 thatI was an enemy.
She — Masha — became their ally.
"Hello, M1k3y," she hissed77 in my ear, close as a lover. A shiver wentup my back. She let go of my arm and I shook it out.
"Christ," I said. "You!""Yes, me," she said. "The gas is gonna come down in about twominutes. Let's haul ass.""Ange — my girlfriend — is by the Founders' Statue."Masha looked over the crowd. "No chance," she said. "We try to makeit there, we're doomed78. The gas is coming down in two minutes, in caseyou missed it the first time."I stopped moving. "I don't go without Ange," I said.
She shrugged79. "Suit yourself," she shouted in my ear. "Your funeral."She began to push through the crowd, moving away, north, towarddowntown. I continued to push for the Founders' Statue. A second later,my arm was back in the terrible lock and I was being swung around andpropelled forward.
"You know too much, jerk-off," she said. "You've seen my face. You'recoming with me."I screamed at her, struggled till it felt like my arm would break, butshe was pushing me forward. My sore foot was agony with every step,my shoulder felt like it would break.
With her using me as a battering80 ram52, we made good progress throughthe crowd. The whine81 of the helicopters changed and she gave me aharder push. "RUN!" she yelled. "Here comes the gas!"The crowd noise changed, too. The choking sounds and screamsounds got much, much louder. I'd heard that pitch of sound before. Wewere back in the park. The gas was raining down. I held my breath andran.
We cleared the crowd and she let go of my arm. I shook it out. Ilimped as fast as I could up the sidewalk as the crowd thinned andthinned. We were heading towards a group of DHS cops with riotshields and helmets and masks. As we drew near them, they moved toblock us, but Masha held up a badge and they melted away like she wasObi Wan41 Kenobi, saying "These aren't the droids you're looking for."259"You goddamned bitch," I said as we sped up Market Street. "We haveto go back for Ange."She pursed her lips and shook her head. "I feel for you, buddy82. Ihaven't seen my boyfriend in months. He probably thinks I'm dead. For-tunes of war. We go back for your Ange, we're dead. If we push on, wehave a chance. So long as we have a chance, she has a chance. Those kidsaren't all going to Gitmo. They'll probably take a few hundred in forquestioning and send the rest home."We were moving up Market Street now, past the strip joints83 where thelittle encampments of bums and junkies sat, stinking84 like open toilets.
Masha guided me to a little alcove85 in the shut door of one of the stripplaces. She stripped off her jacket and turned it inside out — the liningwas a muted stripe pattern, and with the jacket's seams reversed, it hungdifferently. She produced a wool hat from her pocket and pulled it overher hair, letting it form a jaunty86, off-center peak. Then she took out somemake-up remover wipes and went to work on her face and fingernails. Ina minute, she was a different woman.
"Wardrobe change," she said. "Now you. Lose the shoes, lose the jack-et, lose the hat." I could see her point. The cops would be looking verycarefully at anyone who looked like they'd been a part of the VampMob.
I ditched the hat entirely87 — I'd never liked ball caps. Then I jammed thejacket into my pack and got out a long-sleeved tee with a picture of RosaLuxembourg on it and pulled it over my black tee. I let Masha wipe mymakeup off and clean my nails and a minute later, I was clean.
"Switch off your phone," she said. "You carrying any arphids?"I had my student card, my ATM card, my Fast Pass. They all went intoa silvered bag she held out, which I recognized as a radio-proof Faradaypouch. But as she put them in her pocket, I realized I'd just turned my IDover to her. If she was on the other side…The magnitude of what had just happened began to sink in. In mymind, I'd pictured having Ange with me at this point. Ange would makeit two against one. Ange would help me see if there was somethingamiss. If Masha wasn't all she said she was.
"Put these pebbles88 in your shoes before you put them on —""It's OK. I sprained89 my foot. No gait recognition program will spot menow."260She nodded once, one pro26 to another, and slung90 her pack. I picked upmine and we moved. The total time for the changeover was less than aminute. We looked and walked like two different people.
She looked at her watch and shook her head. "Come on," she said. "Wehave to make our rendezvous. Don't think of running, either. You've gottwo choices now. Me, or jail. They'll be analyzing91 the footage from thatmob for days, but once they're done, every face in it will go in a data-base. Our departure will be noted92. We are both wanted criminals now."She got us off Market Street on the next block, swinging back into theTenderloin. I knew this neighborhood. This was where we'd gone hunt-ing for an open WiFi access-point back on the day, playing Harajuku FunMadness.
"Where are we going?" I said.
"We're about to catch a ride," she said. "Shut up and let meconcentrate."We moved fast, and sweat streamed down my face from under myhair, coursed down my back and slid down the crack of my ass and mythighs. My foot was really hurting and I was seeing the streets of SanFrancisco race by, maybe for the last time, ever.
It didn't help that we were ploughing straight uphill, moving for thezone where the seedy Tenderloin gives way to the nosebleed real-estatevalues of Nob Hill. My breath came in ragged93 gasps94. She moved usmostly up narrow alleys96, using the big streets just to get from one alleyto the next.
We were just stepping into one such alley95, Sabin Place, when someonefell in behind us and said, "Freeze right there." It was full of evil mirth.
We stopped and turned around.
At the mouth of the alley stood Charles, wearing a halfheartedVampMob outfit97 of black t-shirt and jeans and white face-paint. "Hello,Marcus," he said. "You going somewhere?" He smiled a huge, wet grin.
"Who's your girlfriend?""What do you want, Charles?""Well, I've been hanging out on that traitorous98 Xnet ever since I spot-ted you giving out DVDs at school. When I heard about your VampMob,I thought I'd go along and hang around the edges, just to see if youshowed up and what you did. You know what I saw?"261I said nothing. He had his phone in his hand, pointed at us. Recording99.
Maybe ready to dial 911. Beside me, Masha had gone still as a board.
"I saw you leading the damned thing. And I recorded it, Marcus. So nowI'm going to call the cops and we're going to wait right here for them.
And then you're going to go to pound-you-in-the-ass prison, for a long,long time."Masha stepped forward.
"Stop right there, chickie," he said. "I saw you get him away. I saw it all—"She took another step forward and snatched the phone out of hishand, reaching behind her with her other hand and bringing it out hold-ing a wallet open.
"DHS, dick-head," she said. "I'm DHS. I've been running this twerpback to his masters to see where he went. I was doing that. Now you'veblown it. We have a name for that. We call it 'Obstruction100 of National Se-curity.' You're about to hear that phrase a lot more often."Charles took a step backward, his hands held up in front of him. He'dgone even paler under his makeup. "What? No! I mean — I didn't know!
I was trying to help!""The last thing we need is a bunch of high school Junior G-men'helping' buddy. You can tell it to the judge."He moved back again, but Masha was fast. She grabbed his wrist andtwisted him into the same judo101 hold she'd had me in back at CivicCenter. Her hand dipped back to her pockets and came out holding astrip of plastic, a handcuff strip, which she quickly wound around hiswrists.
That was the last thing I saw as I took off running.
I made it as far as the other end of the alley before she caught up withme, tackling me from behind and sending me sprawling. I couldn't movevery fast, not with my hurt foot and the weight of my pack. I went downin a hard face-plant and skidded103, grinding my cheek into the grimyasphalt.
"Jesus," she said. "You're a goddamned idiot. You didn't believe that,did you?"My heart thudded in my chest. She was on top of me and slowly shelet me up.
262"Do I need to cuff102 you, Marcus?"I got to my feet. I hurt all over. I wanted to die.
"Come on," she said. "It's not far now."'It' turned out to be a moving van on a Nob Hill side-street, a sixteen-wheeler the size of one of the ubiquitous DHS trucks that still turned upon San Francisco's street corners, bristling104 with antennas105.
This one, though, said "Three Guys and a Truck Moving" on the side,and the three guys were very much in evidence, trekking106 in and out of atall apartment building with a green awning107. They were carrying cratedfurniture, neatly labeled boxes, loading them one at a time onto the truckand carefully packing them there.
She walked us around the block once, apparently108 unsatisfied withsomething, then, on the next pass, she made eye-contact with the manwho was watching the van, an older black guy with a kidney-belt andheavy gloves. He had a kind face and he smiled at us as she led usquickly, casually109 up the truck's three stairs and into its depth. "Under thebig table," he said. "We left you some space there."The truck was more than half full, but there was a narrow corridoraround a huge table with a quilted blanket thrown over it and bubble-wrap wound around its legs.
Masha pulled me under the table. It was stuffy110 and still and dusty un-der there, and I suppressed a sneeze as we scrunched111 in among theboxes. The space was so tight that we were on top of each other. I didn'tthink that Ange would have fit in there.
"Bitch," I said, looking at Masha.
"Shut up. You should be licking my boots thanking me. You wouldhave ended up in jail in a week, two tops. Not Gitmo-by-the-Bay. Syria,maybe. I think that's where they sent the ones they really wanted todisappear."I put my head on my knees and tried to breathe deeply.
"Why would you do something so stupid as declaring war on the DHSanyway?"I told her. I told her about being busted112 and I told her about Darryl.
She patted her pockets and came up with a phone. It was Charles's.
"Wrong phone." She came up with another phone. She turned it on and263the glow from its screen filled our little fort. After fiddling113 for a second,she showed it to me.
It was the picture she'd snapped of us, just before the bombs blew. Itwas the picture of Jolu and Van and me and —Darryl.
I was holding in my hand proof that Darryl had been with us minutesbefore we'd all gone into DHS custody114. Proof that he'd been alive andwell and in our company.
"You need to give me a copy of this," I said. "I need it.""When we get to LA," she said, snatching the phone back. "Onceyou've been briefed on how to be a fugitive115 without getting both ourasses caught and shipped to Syria. I don't want you getting rescue ideasabout this guy. He's safe enough where he is — for now."I thought about trying to take it from her by force, but she'd alreadydemonstrated her physical skill. She must have been a black-belt orsomething.
We sat there in the dark, listening to the three guys load the truck withbox after box, tying things down, grunting116 with the effort of it. I tried tosleep, but couldn't. Masha had no such problem. She snored.
There was still light shining through the narrow, obstructed117 corridorthat led to the fresh air outside. I stared at it, through the gloom, andthought of Ange.
My Ange. Her hair brushing her shoulders as she turned her headfrom side to side, laughing at something I'd done. Her face when I'd seenher last, falling down in the crowd at VampMob. All those people atVampMob, like the people in the park, down and writhing118, the DHSmoving in with truncheons. The ones who disappeared.
Darryl. Stuck on Treasure Island, his side stitched up, taken out of hiscell for endless rounds of questioning about the terrorists.
Darry's father, ruined and boozy, unshaven. Washed up and in hisuniform, "for the photos." Weeping like a little boy.
My own father, and the way that he had been changed by my disap-pearance to Treasure Island. He'd been just as broken as Darryl's father,but in his own way. And his face, when I told him where I'd been.
That was when I knew that I couldn't run.
That was when I knew that I had to stay and fight.
264Masha's breathing was deep and regular, but when I reached with gla-cial slowness into her pocket for her phone, she snuffled a little and shif-ted. I froze and didn't even breathe for a full two minutes, counting onehippopotami, two hippopotami.
Slowly, her breath deepened again. I tugged119 the phone free of herjacket-pocket one millimeter at a time, my fingers and arm tremblingwith the effort of moving so slowly.
Then I had it, a little candy-bar shaped thing.
I turned to head for the light, when I had a flash of memory: Charles,holding out his phone, waggling it at us, taunting120 us. It had been acandy-bar-shaped phone, silver, plastered in the logos of a dozen com-panies that had subsidized the cost of the handset through the phonecompany. It was the kind of phone where you had to listen to a commer-cial every time you made a call.
It was too dim to see the phone clearly in the truck, but I could feel it.
Were those company decals on its sides? Yes? Yes. I had just stolenCharles's phone from Masha.
I turned back around slowly, slowly, and slowly, slowly, slowly, Ireached back into her pocket. Her phone was bigger and bulkier, with abetter121 camera and who knew what else?
I'd been through this once before — that made it a little easier. Milli-meter by millimeter again, I teased it free of her pocket, stopping twicewhen she snuffled and twitched122.
I had the phone free of her pocket and I was beginning to back awaywhen her hand shot out, fast as a snake, and grabbed my wrist, hard, fin-gertips grinding away at the small, tender bones below my hand.
I gasped and stared into Masha's wide-open, staring eyes.
"You are such an idiot," she said, conversationally123, taking the phonefrom me, punching at its keypad with her other hand. "How did youplan on unlocking this again?"I swallowed. I felt bones grind against each other in my wrist. I bit mylip to keep from crying out.
She continued to punch away with her other hand. "Is this what youthought you'd get away with?" She showed me the picture of all of us,Darryl and Jolu, Van and me. "This picture?"I didn't say anything. My wrist felt like it would shatter.
265"Maybe I should just delete it, take temptation out of your way." Herfree hand moved some more. Her phone asked her if she was sure andshe had to look at it to find the right button.
That's when I moved. I had Charles's phone in my other hand still, andI brought it down on her crushing hand as hard as I could, banging myknuckles on the table overhead. I hit her hand so hard the phoneshattered and she yelped124 and her hand went slack. I was still moving,reaching for her other hand, for her now-unlocked phone with herthumb still poised125 over the OK key. Her fingers spasmed on the emptyair as I snatched the phone out of her hand.
I moved down the narrow corridor on hands and knees, heading forthe light. I felt her hands slap at my feet and ankles twice, and I had toshove aside some of the boxes that had walled us in like a Pharaoh in atomb. A few of them fell down behind me, and I heard Masha gruntagain.
The rolling truck door was open a crack and I dove for it, slitheringout under it. The steps had been removed and I found myself hangingover the road, sliding headfirst into it, clanging my head off the blacktopwith a thump126 that rang my ears like a gong. I scrambled to my feet, hold-ing the bumper127, and desperately128 dragged down on the door-handle,slamming it shut. Masha screamed inside — I must have caught her fin-gertips. I felt like throwing up, but I didn't.
I padlocked the truck instead.
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1
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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high-tech
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| adj.高科技的 | |
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4
hacker
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| n.能盗用或偷改电脑中信息的人，电脑黑客 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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6
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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civic
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| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
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8
clan
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| n.氏族，部落，宗族，家族，宗派 | |
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9
vampires
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| n.吸血鬼( vampire的名词复数 )；吸血蝠；高利贷者；（舞台上的）活板门 | |
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vampire
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| n.吸血鬼 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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12
referee
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| n.裁判员．仲裁人，代表人，鉴定人 | |
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13
crumbles
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| 酥皮水果甜点( crumble的名词复数 ) | |
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14
rumbles
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| 隆隆声，辘辘声( rumble的名词复数 ) | |
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15
rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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16
derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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17
nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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18
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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19
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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20
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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21
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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22
tuxedo
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| n.礼服，无尾礼服 | |
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23
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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24
buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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25
makeup
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| n.组织；性格；化装品 | |
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26
pro
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| n.赞成，赞成的意见，赞成者 | |
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27
unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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28
converged
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| v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的过去式 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
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29
plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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30
teemed
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| v.充满( teem的过去式和过去分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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31
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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32
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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33
cater
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| vi.(for/to)满足，迎合；(for)提供饮食及服务 | |
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34
crooks
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| n.骗子( crook的名词复数 )；罪犯；弯曲部分；（牧羊人或主教用的）弯拐杖v.弯成钩形( crook的第三人称单数 ) | |
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35
bums
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| n. 游荡者，流浪汉，懒鬼，闹饮，屁股 adj. 没有价值的，不灵光的，不合理的 vt. 令人失望，乞讨 vi. 混日子，以乞讨为生 | |
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36
retail
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| v./n.零售；adv.以零售价格 | |
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37
florist
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| n.花商；种花者 | |
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38
trolley
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| n.手推车，台车；无轨电车；有轨电车 | |
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39
briefcases
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| n.公文[事]包( briefcase的名词复数 ) | |
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40
stompy
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| n.跺脚，重踩；顿足爵士舞v.跺脚，重踩；践踏 | |
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41
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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42
wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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43
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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44
bowlers
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| n.（板球）投球手( bowler的名词复数 )；圆顶高帽 | |
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45
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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46
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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47
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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48
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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49
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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50
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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51
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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52
ram
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| (random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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53
skulked
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
tusks
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| n.（象等动物的）长牙( tusk的名词复数 )；獠牙；尖形物；尖头 | |
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57
sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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58
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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59
honked
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| v.（使）发出雁叫似的声音，鸣（喇叭），按（喇叭）( honk的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
trolleys
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| n.（两轮或四轮的）手推车( trolley的名词复数 )；装有脚轮的小台车；电车 | |
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61
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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62
epic
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| n.史诗，叙事诗；adj.史诗般的，壮丽的 | |
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63
disperse
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| vi.使分散；使消失；vt.分散；驱散 | |
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64
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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65
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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66
horrendous
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| adj.可怕的，令人惊惧的 | |
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67
bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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68
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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69
wading
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的现在分词 ) | |
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70
founders
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| n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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71
crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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72
socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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73
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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74
marionette
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| n.木偶 | |
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75
truant
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| n.懒惰鬼，旷课者；adj.偷懒的，旷课的，游荡的；v.偷懒，旷课 | |
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76
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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77
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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78
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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79
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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80
battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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81
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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82
buddy
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| n.（美口）密友，伙伴 | |
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83
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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84
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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85
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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86
jaunty
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| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
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87
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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88
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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89
sprained
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| v.&n. 扭伤 | |
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90
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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91
analyzing
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| v.分析；分析( analyze的现在分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析n.分析 | |
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92
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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93
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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94
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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95
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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96
alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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97
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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98
traitorous
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| adj. 叛国的, 不忠的, 背信弃义的 | |
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99
recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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100
obstruction
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| n.阻塞，堵塞；障碍物 | |
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101
judo
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| n.柔道 | |
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102
cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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103
skidded
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| v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的过去式和过去分词 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
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104
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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105
antennas
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| [生] 触角，触须（antenna的复数形式） | |
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106
trekking
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| v.艰苦跋涉，徒步旅行( trek的现在分词 )；（尤指在山中）远足，徒步旅行，游山玩水 | |
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107
awning
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| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
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108
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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109
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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110
stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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111
scrunched
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| v.发出喀嚓声( scrunch的过去式和过去分词 )；蜷缩；压；挤压 | |
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112
busted
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| adj. 破产了的，失败了的，被降级的，被逮捕的，被抓到的 动词bust的过去式和过去分词 | |
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113
fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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114
custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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115
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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116
grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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117
obstructed
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| 阻塞( obstruct的过去式和过去分词 )； 堵塞； 阻碍； 阻止 | |
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118
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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119
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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120
taunting
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| 嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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abetter
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| n.教唆者，怂恿者 | |
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122
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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123
conversationally
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| adv.会话地 | |
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124
yelped
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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125
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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126
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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127
bumper
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| n.(汽车上的)保险杠；adj.特大的，丰盛的 | |
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128
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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