BRG/TNL/500: 9 Basement Tarragon

9. INSIDE THE CHURCH MEN MADE OF THEMSELVES FORGOTTEN ICONS: on cobbled ramparts mounted weapons poked through bashed out glass.  Three men lapped the improvised corridor they made from church to fire station.
The Lead Beard walked her to stone steps down.
This is the rectory.  He said.
I've never been in a church.
His eyes darker than the dark, his thin eyebrows furrowing under a moonbeam.  She came closer looking for the rest of his face, and he bumped into her as he pulled back on the door, and opened it.
THE TUNNEL they entered was strung with white Christmas lights.
Never been to a wedding?  He asked.
Not in a church.
MEN WERE ABOUT, playing cards at long wooden benches, napping on cots.  It was a pleasant smell down here, like split firewood; flowered tarragon drying, hung along the walls.
Men nodded at the Lead Beard as they passed.
They ducked in under another doorway into what was the pantry: two long tables were walled in by twin colannades of stacked cans.  Gooey pastas and beets, scavenged over time.
He plucked up two cans with one hand, and sat down with them.  Popped them open, and pushed one in front of her.  He pulled ravioli with his fingers.
Eat.  He said.
What's your name?
He smiled.  Got up.  Back over to his cans.
You look like a Lance.  Sven?
He showed her baby bottles of vodka.
Jim.  He said.
She felt courageous and in charge, getting his name, and so reached into her coat for a stick of dope.  She made to light it, and looked over for his reaction.
He was gulping booze this Jim.  A fox-eyed, red-bearded Jim.
My Daddy says booze is for smart people looking to get dumb, and dope is for dumb people looking to get smart.  He said.
Your Daddy sounds like a rube.
A doctor.  And a drunk.
She put the marijuana away.  Picked a ravioli that resembled a dead jellyfish, and chewed it.  She unscrewed her vodka bottle, and drank it.  It should have been with the beets.
You got to do what my guys tell you, and we'll get you there.  They'll wait until your business is done, then walk you back.  Sound good?
What is this business?
My job's walking you.
Jim watched her hands.  His eyes went lazy again.
Why did you come here?  She asked him.  What is this to you?
Work.
Tell me something real, Jim.
No thank you.
Tell me why Roger lied about being with you on Saucy J.
He found another baby booze in his coat pocket:
Ain't like he told you he ran the job.  It ain't that bad a lie.  Roger was okay, it just wouldn't have happened.  Up at the park those outfits stand guard, they ain't walking down here because down here their advantages fall away.  These bugs down here in the garbage are clever.  We don't walk south-east-north popping rounds off, yelling and cussing -- we walk a careful path.  We don't fight south of this church.  Those boys come down and start it all up again in the hive with these bugs, the shit is going awry, and they'll have to call up the hill, and then they'll be in trouble, because, as is, the bugs let them dump the garbage, so the Army leaves them alone, the ones that live in the shit.  They swat the ones get too close to the park and where y'all live up there, but they don't want to stroll down here less they're in a dumptruck.  Bugs that live in shit get shit-smart; they like it.  You know who dozes the garbage?  The bugs.  Smell it down here.  That's advantage number one: they like the smell -- so, "come on then, give us that garbage" --  that's fortification, and we're building it for them.  They own it.  Now you take Henny; he goes straight away to it, now he's down a year and what else, and they're funneling him supplies, but they CAN'T check in on him, cuz they can't climb the dunghill without starting it up with the real bugs.  Our bugs up here, they're passive how they hate us: they protect Saucy, shit like this, but they ain't gonna fight - they chuck a frag in a window once in awhile, what have you, but they still living Uptown, they're tuned in to Skillet economy, like the noodle Japs; down at the dump they hump a different stroke.  And that's why High Office is looking a new way to Henny, and that's why they asked us to walk -- We know the path.  You and the Roger-types sit uptown and chew your noodles, and think you're real sweet rebels.  Shit.  Henny is surrounded by a mountain range of garbage, and the kind of sickos that can live in it.  So they want a meeting, and for whatever reason you got picked for the role.  What else can they do?  Drop a bomb because they got conned by Hollywood Henny?  The answer is Roger and them got no experience with the south-east-north.  Stick with guard duty; let us squat and buffer.