A million souls in this City of Night, and Jerome finds himself alone in an alcove jutting off from one of those deep underground corridors designed for walking but mainly used for things illegal or illicit.\u00c2\u00a0 He sits on a stone bench carved into the curved wall.\u00c2\u00a0 He sits, he clenches and unclenches his fists, he catches his breathing just before the panic leads to hyperventilation.\u00c2\u00a0 His insides get knotted and taut every time he comes down here.\u00c2\u00a0 There are houses.\u00c2\u00a0 He could get his fix on a somewhat comfortable couch, surrounded by dim red lights and smoke and exotic women and men in fashionable jackets.\u00c2\u00a0 He could be home now, sleeping a regular sleep, dreaming of things like sunlight and beaches, all those things Midnight never sees.<\/p>\n
He remembers sunlight.<\/p>\n
He sits in shadows.\u00c2\u00a0 In Midnight, you find shadows everywhere, in parks and cemeteries, outside bars, police stations, around the corner from high-rise apartments and the low-rent projects.\u00c2\u00a0 Shadows infiltrate the subways and the highways, bus routes, parking lots, schools, prisons, office buildings, City Hall, the Historical Society Building.\u00c2\u00a0 After a while, the shadows infest your soul.\u00c2\u00a0 It starts when the blackness sneaks in through the cracks of your heart, whether caused by heartbreak or loneliness or uncomfortable memories of other places.\u00c2\u00a0 When the darkness spreads, it leaves your limbs numb, your fingers cold, your eyes unfocused, and you might as well be on something.\u00c2\u00a0 You\u2019re not.\u00c2\u00a0 You think you\u2019ll be okay.\u00c2\u00a0 You start with maybe wine, spiced cigarettes, cheap sex, then slip into harder and harder stuff, seeking some escape, some salvation you know can\u2019t possibly exist.\u00c2\u00a0 But you look anyhow.<\/p>\n
You look, and like Jerome, you end up in an oft-forgotten corridor waiting for a guy you know only as Freak.\u00c2\u00a0 For all you know, that might be what he calls himself at home.\u00c2\u00a0 His girl might call him Freak, and his children if he has any.\u00c2\u00a0 Daddy Freak, Daddy Freak, they say, and he gives them gifts with the money you shoveled over.<\/p>\n
The money\u2019s already gone.\u00c2\u00a0 Jerome\u2019s foot taps out a quick staccato on the concrete ground.\u00c2\u00a0 In his fist, he\u2019s got a small baggie, and inside that, three red pills.\u00c2\u00a0 Three hits of Scarlet.\u00c2\u00a0 Three tiny trips to heaven.\u00c2\u00a0 Carefully, he fishes one out.\u00c2\u00a0 It stains his finger red as he places it on his tongue.<\/p>\n
Ask ten people what Scarlet does for them, you\u2019ll get ten different answers.\u00c2\u00a0 Is it a hallucinogen?\u00c2\u00a0 Certainly, it sends the heart into overdrive.\u00c2\u00a0 The chest pounds with inconceivable rhythms, sometimes skipping a beat, sometimes three, sometimes ten.\u00c2\u00a0 Hands like balloons.\u00c2\u00a0 Stroboscopic lights.\u00c2\u00a0 Everything moves really fast, or in slow motion, or not at all.\u00c2\u00a0 The City of Night is yours to command.\u00c2\u00a0 Men and women alike will bend to your will.\u00c2\u00a0 Ravens will flock to you.\u00c2\u00a0 The gypsies, out in the forest, chant your name as they dance their pagan rituals.\u00c2\u00a0 Creatures of legend bow before you, with names like Uncle Knuckles or the Wandering Reverend.\u00c2\u00a0 Three hours later, Jerome hasn\u2019t left the stone bench, has barely moved.\u00c2\u00a0 His eyes are closed, his heart furiously attempting to beat, striking once, twice over the course of seconds.\u00c2\u00a0 His blood is cold, his skin moist, and he stinks something awful.<\/p>\n
Sometimes, in the corner of your eye, if you know the city well enough and know what should be where, you\u2019ll sometimes see a person who shouldn\u2019t be there, maybe a ghost, maybe only one of those shadows, an agent of someone or something you\u2019d rather not consider.\u00c2\u00a0 Sharply dressed, rigid, imposing, and fleeting.\u00c2\u00a0 One such man stands beside Jerome now.\u00c2\u00a0 Sadly, he shakes his head.\u00c2\u00a0 He forces Jerome\u2019s fist open and takes the little baggie with the two Scarlet pills still inside.\u00c2\u00a0 He checks the pulse at the throat, then wipes his fingers clean with a white handkerchief.\u00c2\u00a0 He finds a payphone–there are thousands in Midnight, in the valley of two mountains, a place where mobile phones simply fail to find any signal–and makes a call.\u00c2\u00a0 Not to the police or an ambulance.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cFound another.\u00c2\u00a0 Good as dead.\u00c2\u00a0 Send someone to gather him.\u201d<\/p>\n
After he hangs up, as he walks crisply away in his crisp shoes, he drops the Scarlet pills on the street.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"