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Nature was in a fury, and we all would suffer because of it. The rain came down hard, washing away all that was in its path: filth, hate, greed, shame, love, death, and life. All these were nothing compared to the power of the torrential rains before me.
I raced through the city, my companion in my arms, hoping the mighty rains would also wash away the blood. His hands were reaching up to my face, pleading, begging for surcease from the pain. He grasped at my mask, and I said nothing. I offered him no words of relief, knowing there was little I could say that would help. All I could do was take him where the situation might be changed.
There were few others foolish enough to be out on a night like this. Few enough had been out last night, when the face of the weather was far less furious. Today, though, only mad dogs and foolishmen would be roaming the streets. Two less would be out soon, as I reached my destination.
My hands full with blood and my companion, I kicked at the door before me. I kicked and kicked, but no one responded. Knowing there was no time to lose, I smashed through the jamb and entered his apartment.
"It hurts," my companion said, as Bart finally came to the door.
"Pol?" he said, a yellow bath-sheet around his hips. "What is going on?"
He saw the collapsed mass in my arms, and rushed into action.
"Get that dripping body off my floor!" He called, dropping his towel beneath my companion.
"You've gotta help, Bart," I said, "He's in bad shape, and he needs to get to the hospital. Call an ambulance!"
"What's wrong?" Bart asked, diving into some shorts as I lay the body down.
I looked out Bart's window, to see the angry empty street below. "I don't know," I replied, giving my back to my old friend, "But I do know this. I still have work to do. And I'm going to have to finish this little dance alone."
Bart walked up to me, hesitantly. His reflection shimmered in the sweating window before me. "You mean..." He said.
"Yes. I have to go out again, and put an end to this. Tonight," I said with a flourish and a turn, "The Dark Apple will rise again!"
Some words of explanation:
When ringing Arnie's doorbell served me not at all, I opened it for myself. Not for the first time did I serve as my own doorman, certainly, especially after the raucus evening Arnie had enjoyed previously. What was before me was a sight to behold.
Cake was everywhere. Chairs were severed, windows multi-hued, records shattered. A generation of chaos was strewn before me.
"Some party," I commented to the creaking walls, before searching for that party's host.
Arnie was eventually found crumpled beneath a pile of stained magazines.
I slapped him until he woke up.
"...Pol..." Arnie said through blinken eye.
I nodded.
"Came to clean up. Where're the others."
Arnie took my hand up, "Thanks, buddy."
It was one o'clock. I'd been asked to arrive at noon to try and get Arnie's place together before his parents showed up to disown him. I figured at least some of the work would've been done by now. Should've known.
"Where're the guys?" I repeated, thinking our bosom buds would be here, scurrying about, considerate and responsible, cleaning up all the messes in sight. Should've known.
"Bart called a few hours ago," Arnie groaned, "Had to cancel. Had a... hangover."
I nodded. "Steve? John? Kris?"
Arnie leaned on the wall for support. He grabbed onto the corner to support his immense weightlessness. "Steve and John disappeared during the party. Locked themselves in my bathroom, last I saw of them."
"Kris?"
"Never showed up," Arnie replied, and stumbled to the bathroom.
For want of anything better to do, I started shoving everything in sight into huge black garbage bags.
I'd left early last night, sickened by the drunken idiotic debauchery surrounding me. Also, John had just arrived. My friend John is a frightening experience. Especially when he falls in love or dances. And things were getting fairly wild, besides. When I'd so gracefully exited, Bart had only just begun blithering, and Arnie had stopped professing undying love for his ex-girlfriend.
With a flush, Arnie returned, wiping his mouth dry.
"Some party, huh?
"Any sign of Steve in there?"
Arnie seemed confused, until reason coalesced on his brow.
"None that I could see," he said.
I shrugged, and continued cleaning.
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