Page 84 of Shadows Reel

“Leave it on channel twenty-two and keep the volume low,” Axel said. “Don’t talk on it unless you have something to say.”

“It’s raining out there,” Randy said.

Axel leaned into Randy so his mouth was inches from his ear. Randy could feel the full force of Axel’s menace in a way he hadn’t felt before.

Through gritted teeth, Axel said, “Go.”

Randy went.

—

Randy was ina foul mood because this wasn’t what he’d signed up for. He’d accompanied the Shaman to be his colleague, to learn from him. Maybe to bask in the glow of his dark celebrity.

Not to sit on the floor of a van breathing in hawk shit and stray feathers for hundreds of highway miles. Not to do all the physical work of loading heavy firearms into the van and stacking half of them in an alleyway just a few hours later. Not to be wet and freezing most of the day. Not to be talked down to and mocked by Axel and the Blade.

And now he was being sent to stand out on the street in the open during an epic rainstorm the likes of which he’d rarely experienced growing up in Denver.

He could hear Axel and the Blade talking behind him in the alley. No doubt, they were making fun of him again. They stayed back there, Randy guessed, because that’s where the cache of guns was located and because it was dry. The alleyway was covered on top back there.

Randy wished he had his phone so he could use the flashlighton it. There was something very weird about the alleyway they were in. The walls seemed to undulate with misshapen, multicolored globules. Like fungus growing—or acne on bad skin.

It wasn’t until he emerged from beneath the covered part of the alley into the open rain near the street that he got it: the brick walls of the passage were covered by hundreds of thousands of wads of used chewing gum. It repulsed him and he made sure he stayed in the middle of the alley away from either side, which were no doubt teeming with bacteria from the mouths of unclean strangers.

Disgusting.

Sothat’swhy they called it the Gum Wall.

—

Randy disobeyed Axelthe minute he emerged onto the empty street. Instead of standing there like a dutiful soldier getting soaked to the bone by the rain, he ducked into a dimly lit bodega whose windows and glass door were covered with iron bars. Printed in block letters on a piece of cardboard was:

NO PUBLIC TOILETS. DON’T EVEN ASK!!!!!

He pocketed the handheld and pushed his way inside. An electric buzzer signaled his entrance. It was hot and close inside and the aisles were so narrow he had to turn sidewise to get to the counter.

The cashier was an Asian man whose features were distortedby the thick plexiglass that separated him from his customers. Business was done through a small open slot cut from the bottom of the barrier.

“What you want?” the man asked. He sounded hostile, Randy thought.

“I was hoping I could buy a raincoat.”

“No raincoat! You antifa?”

“I’m just a brother trying to stay dry,” Randy said.

“Get out! No raincoat here. Soda, cigarettes, beer.”

Randy looked around. The shelves were packed with items on both sides. He smiled when he saw a box of thirty-five-gallon plastic garbage bags.

“I’ll take one of these,” Randy said. “I don’t need the whole box.”

“Whole box or nothing.”

“That’s robbery.”

“What? Get out if you don’t want to pay.”

Randy looked around for an alternative choice but couldn’t find one. He cursed and approached the counter.

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