FicWad

1979

“Hey, Oliver!”
“Hi Dave, the usual?”
“Yeah and a... uh, what do you want?” Dave asked Zoe.
“Oh, I'll have... a beer?” she wasn't sure what one was supposed to drink in a pub of ill repute like that. Something strong, probably, but she wasn't used to drink liquors and didn't want to get drunk.
The barman served them their drinks as Dave asked him about Spade. Zoe scanned the grubby, shady room fogged by heavy cigarette smoke; the customers looked like the kind of people one wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley. She tried to act at ease, not to show how much of a fish out of water she actually was.
“Let's take a seat.” Dave said, elbowing Zoe. “Spade is a regular of this pub and should come here in about thirty minutes.”
He put a plate full of sandwiches on the table and grabbed one. “I don't know you, but I've got a fucking hole in my stomach. That burrito a few hours ago didn't do much.”
Zoe had plenty of doubts about the hygiene standards of the pub, but skipping lunch had left her hungry as well, so she grabbed something that looked like a ham and cheese sandwich and sank her teeth into it.
“Not bad. Better than you would expect, actually.” she said. “How much did you pay for them?”
“Don't worry, it's on me. It's the least I can do for all the mess I've put you into.”
“Damn right.”

“Why did you decide to become a dealer?” Zoe asked after they finished eating. “I mean, you said you don't want a career as a smuggler, so why even start?”
“I need money, simple as that.”
“There's plenty of legal jobs you can get to gain money.”
“Not if you're an underage kid without a diploma.” Dave said. “Selling drugs pays better than any other job I can get for now. But I hope to find a job as a mechanic after I graduate, I'm good with cars.”
“Don't take this wrong, but I'm surprised that someone like you cares about graduating.”
“What do you mean someone like me?” he growled. “Do I look like a fucking lowlife to you?”
“No, I mean... with your bad boy act and...” she stuttered, unsure of what she to say. “I'm sorry, I don't even know what I wanted to mean by that.”
“Let me help you, what you meant is that I'm the kind of guy who ends up dead or in jail.”
“No! Just... not someone who cares about school.”
“Well, I don't, but you have to be a total fucking loser not to graduate from high school.” Dave snorted, a bit placated. “By the way, I have bigger plans than spending my life in a workshop.”
“What's your dream job, then?”
“To be a rockstar.” he smirked. “Sounds crazy, uh?”
“Well, a little.” she tittered. “Are you talented, at least?”
“You have a guitar god in the making in front of you, baby.”

Zoe was about to answer to that bold statement, when a man stepped in front of their table, cutting her breath. It was a middle-aged dude, tall and stout, with a harsh face and a long scar on his left eye. He put his big, callous hands on the table and looked at Zoe.
“I've heard that you kiddies have been waiting for me.” He said. “What do you want?”
Zoe couldn't talk, she was paralyzed, so Dave took the floor. “We have something for you.”
“Oh, really? And what would that be?”
“Money.” Said Dave, “From... the crazy cat lord.” He tried to laugh, cursing himself for not remembering the old man's name.
“Wasn't that Curtin's job? Why did he send you?”
“He couldn't make it, that's why he asked us to do it for him.” So even Spade didn't know that Arnold was missing. Dave sighed internally. “He also charged us with a special delivery.” He added, hoping that the man would understand what he was hinting to.
“I see.” said Spade, taking his eyes off Zoe for the first time since the conversation had started; he had been staring at her breasts the whole time while talking to Dave. Zoe was used at men taking too much interest in her ample bosom and crudely looking at it even at the most inappropriate moments. Her usual reaction was raising her hands in front of her breasts and flipping the bird, but she didn't know how a man like Spade would react to that, and was too scared to find it out.

The sturdy man took the money and counted the bills two times before pocketing them. “Follow me.” He said, taking Dave and Zoe to his car. At his nod, the two teenagers got in, hoping they hadn't just signed their death sentence. They rode in complete silence; Dave tried not to look as scared to death as he felt and Zoe fought hard to keep her tears from running down. They had no idea what was going to happen to them or where they were being taken, but they prayed to arrive as soon as possible because anything they would have to face seemed less frightening than the waiting.

Spade parked his car and invited Dave and Zoe to go after him; they were in the poorest district of the city, formed by a cluster of dilapidated buildings that made Dave's house look grand. After a brief walk, they stopped in front of what looked like an abandoned house; the front door appeared to be nailed shut, but Spade easily removed the planks and unlocked the door. He pushed in Dave and Zoe, then repositioned the wooden boards and closed the door behind him.
“Carl! There's two kids here who's got to do a delivery.”
The small house was bare and shabby; in the middle of the main room there was a little old man, sitting behind a pallet wooden desk with a big red leather register and a ham radio on it.
“They have a package from Arnold.” said Spade.
“Do you work for him?” the man asked them.
“No.” Dave hastened to clarify. “He just asked us a couple of favours.”
“Tying his loose ends, eh?” the man sneered. “You can leave now.” He said to Spade, waving his hand.
Once Spade left the building, the man opened his register and browsed the pages, mumbling something under his breath, until he found what he was looking for.
He beckoned Dave to give him the package, then he cut the twine and ripped out the brown paper covering it. He opened the box lid and looked inside of it, but neither Dave nor Zoe could see what it was hiding. Finally, the thin man closed the box with brown Scotch tape and stamped it.

“Here, put this on.” He said, handing two pairs of fishing waders to Dave and Zoe, who looked baffled at each other but didn't dare asking any questions.
Carl gave the box back to Dave and told the two teenagers to exit from the backdoor. He looked around to make sure that the alley was empty, then lifted a manhole. “Here's the flashlight.” He said. “Go down, walk up to the water and wait, I'll make a call and they'll come to get you.”
Dave and Zoe lingered in front of the open manhole, unsure of what to do. They were very well aware that they had gone too far to walk out of it, but going down the sewers and meet God knows who terrified them.
The first one to snap out of it was Dave. “Well, it's time to put an end to this story.” He said. “Let's go.”
“About damn time.” grumbled Carl. “Goddamn kiddies.”
Zoe followed Dave down the manhole and the man closed the lid, leaving the two teenagers in complete darkness.
“Oh God.” sobbed the girl. “We're gonna die inside the fucking sewers.”
“Turn on that flashlight.” said Dave. “We're not gonna die, I promise you.”
“That's even worse.” replied Zoe. “Because it means that we'll have to spend the whole Sunday writing a paper about the proper conduct to keep at school.”
“Oh, fuck it.” Dave cursed, walking straight ahead as he had been instructed. “I forgot about that shit.”
“Well, I haven't. I hoped to finish it today, so tomorrow I would be free.”
“What were you planning to do? Go to church? Make flower crowns? Rub a puppy's tummy?”
“Do I look like fucking Pollyanna to you, dick?” she grinned.
Dave laughed. “No, not really.” The two kids stopped in front of a drainage tunnel with water in it. “What were you planning to do?”
“I was planning to do a translation. A month ago an exchange student from Argentina brought to the comic book club a science fiction comic from his country called 'El Eternauta'...”
“You're a member of the comic book club?!” asked Dave astonished.
“Yes, why is everybody shocked by that? Anyway, I'm the only member of the club who's fluent in Spanish -except for the Argentinean kid, but he doesn't speak English very well- so I've been appointed to translate it. ”
“Sounds boring.”
“No, I'm enjoying it a lot; it's an excellent comic, one of the best I've ever read.” Zoe explained. “Besides, it gives the club guys a reason to keep me in. When I confessed that I don't like superheroes, they wanted to tar and feather me.”
“A fan of comics who doesn't like superheroes? That's fucking preposterous!”
“Oh, shut up, one day I'll become a comic artist and finally show you people.” she laughed. “There are so many stories you can tell that don't require dudes in tights.”

The noise of a small motor cut off their conversation, and they spotted a light at the bottom of the tunnel. As it got closer, they saw it came from a rubber raft steered by a guy not much older than them.
“Arnold's package?” He asked, stopping in front of Dave and Zoe. They nodded, and the guy made them sign to hop in, dragging them into a trip through the sewers.
The awful smell, the scarce light and the overall sense of claustrophobia filled the two teenagers with both fright and wonder for the underground adventure they were living.
After a while -it could have been minutes or it could have been hours; they had lost the sense of time- the kid killed the engine and stepped out of the raft, inviting Dave and Zoe to do the same. He guided them inside a pipeline, small enough to make them crouch while walking; their feet splashed into a rivulet of sewage and they had to lean on the dirty walls not to lose their balance and fall face down into it.
A second before they emerged into a bigger space, the guy turned off the flashlight; the dim light of a lamp hanging on the wall barely allowed the three kids to see their hands.
“You got my package?” asked a sudden voice, startling Dave and Zoe.
“Yes, here you go.” said Dave, giving the box to a shadowy silhouette standing in front of him.
The figure took the package and handed a cash roll to Dave. “Well? Don't you want your money?” the voice asked, as the boy was taking too long a time just staring at the cash.
“Of course.” Dave answered, putting the roll into his backpack.
The kids slid back into the pipeline and returned to the raft.

Zoe and Dave were sure they would be taken back to the manhole from which they had come, but their guide dropped them in front of another pipe and left.
“Oh, great, where are we supposed to go now?” Zoe asked, shaking like a leaf. The perspective of getting lost inside the sewers was worse than anything she had faced since then.
“Don't be scared, we just have to follow this tunnel to the end. It must bring somewhere outside.” Dave tried to reassure the girl. He hoped his voice didn't betray his own fear.
The two teenagers headed inside the pipeline, talking and cracking jokes the whole time to distract themselves.
“You know, once we're out of here, I really think I don't want to see your face anymore.” Zoe said, only half joking. “You are a trouble magnet.”
“My, you wound me.” replied Dave. “All right, it's totally true, but my sex appeal should turn it into an attractive trait.”
“Does it ever work? On someone whose brain isn't fried by drugs, I mean.”
“More often than what you think, darling. The fact that it doesn't work on you is quite insulting, actually.”
“Sweet little baby, did you cast one of your spells to gain that power? Because they don't seem to really hit the target.”
“I don't need magic to bring a girl to her knees.” Dave said with a smirk. “I have three sisters, I know what women want.”
“Oh really?” Zoe chuckled. “Come on, hit me with your best shot.”
“Seduction is not about 'shots', only Casanova wannabes think like that.” replied Dave. “But usually girls like romantic phrases like: You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”
"Lawdy, Miss Scarlett, I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies!" Zoe squeaked, startling Dave. “I hate that atrocious movie, never made it to the end of it. And I'm sure I'm no exception.”

When a faint light announced Dave and Zoe that the end of the tunnel was near, they started running as fast as their ill-fitted waders allowed them, ignoring the discomfort, the fatigue, and the splashes of dirty water hitting them. The two kids emerged from a drain ditch and looked around, trying to understand where the hell they were; the sun had already gone down, making it difficult to recognize their surroundings.
“We're somewhere on the outskirts of the city, apparently.” Dave said. “That's fucking priceless.”
“Look, there's a house down there, we can go ask for help.” Zoe exclaimed, pointing at a small wooden house not far away from them. The light on the porch made it the only noticeable thing around there.
“This looks like the beginning of a gory horror movie.”
“C'mon, at worse, we're gonna hit the headlines of the morning paper.” Zoe replied, dragging Dave by the hand toward the house.
“Looks like a giant-size wooden pisser.” the boy grumbled.
Sitting under the porch, a tall, slender man was cleaning his shotgun. When he raised his head, he saw the two teenagers discussing wildly between themselves.
“Hey kids!” he shouted. “Stop chit chatting and come here!”
Dave and Zoe slowly approached the man, greeting him politely. “I've never seen you before, are you new in the business?”
“No, we only covered for a friend.” explained Zoe. “Listen, we really need to go back to the city...”
“I take care of that, weren't you told?” the man said. “Tomorrow morning I'll take you there with the others.”
“Can we go to sleep? I really need some rest.” asked Dave.
“Not so fast. Take off the waders first, they need to be cleaned.” He said, pointing at a basin. “You're not getting inside with those on.”

While Dave went to bed, Zoe stayed outside in the chill air and stared at the dark sky; the moon was big and pale, almost full. She thought that the stars looked brighter out of the city, and that it was definitely too late to call home, so she'd better start thinking of some good excuse for her parents. She hadn't made Dave's name to them, so maybe she could turn him into Daisy and not have them freaking out that she had spent the night with a boy.
“So deep in thought, young girl, what's inside your mind?” asked the man.
“Nothing important.” she shrugged. “But I may be in trouble with my parents.”
“Hanging around bad companies, uh? Being a bad girl.” He smirked lewdly.
The raven-haired teen shrugged again, trying not to give too much confidence to the man.
“Naughty girls need someone with a strong hand to keep them in order.” he said, getting closer to Zoe. “Someone who knows when and how to discipline them.”
She stepped back to put more distance between them, but the man didn't relent. “How do they say...'Thou shalt rule them with a rod of iron'. Ever tasted the rod, little girl?”
Yeah, I'm sure that sex with you must feel like a punishment. Zoe thought, trying to find a good answer to put off the man without angering him.
“Lord, I'm not worthy.” she finally replied, quickly walking inside the house.

There were eight beds inside the house, four for each room, and five of them were occupied by sleeping men. Dave was lying on a bed next to the window, shifting uncomfortably. “How are we supposed to sleep on this fucking torture device?”
Zoe sat on the mattress. “This whole day has been a fucking torture, and my parents are going to kill me. God, they must be so worried, and I cannot even call them.”
“Worrying is what parents do, isn't it? Relax, it all went well.”
“Define well.” Zoe said flatly. “You know, I should make you write that stupid essay all by yourself.”
“I'm not sure if you deserve it.”
“But I'm sure that you deserve to be punched in the face. Do I have to remind you that this huge mess is your fault?”
“Yeah, but I'm still offended that you didn't succumb to my charm.” He said, crossing his arms behind his head. “It was a huge blow to my masculinity.”
“Oh, your poor fragile ego.” Zoe replied, clasping her hands an batting her eyelashes. “I'm not even your type, you don't really want me to drool over you.”
“What would you know about my type?”
“Judging from flower girl, I thought you went for the Farrah Fawcett lookalikes.”
“Actually, I'm more of a Lynda Carter kind of guy.” He replied. “You look a little bit like her.”
“A very little bit.” She chuckled. “For your information, I don't fall for flatteries either.”
“All right, listen, I'm sure we can come up with a good excuse for your parents. I'm a master of deceit, trust me.”

Zoe lied on the bed next to Dave, who shifted to give her more space.
“You know, in the end, we still haven't found Arnold.” She said. “I knew that your tracking spell thing was bullshit.”
“Shut up, at least the fucking package problem is solved.” He replied. “One way or another, things worked out just fine. And we made money out of it; half of it is yours.”
“Dirty money. Let's make an agreement: you keep all the cash but write the essay.”
“Oh, for fuck's sake, all right, I'll do it. Bitch.”
“Mind your language, young man, you're not talking to your mother.”
Dave snickered. “Go find your own bed, girlie. It's time to sleep.”
Zoe went to the nearest free bed and took off her shoes. Maybe there was some truth behind the infamous bad-boy charm, she thought, smiling to herself. But she still wasn't sure it was worth the trouble.