The Product Line (Book 1): Product (21 page)

That was the benefit of the Virus though. An understanding beyond your years and preternatural insight. Antonios had seen sickness spread through his village, had witnessed it ravage the passengers of numerous ships. Even without the tools needed to properly run scientific experimentation he was able to see very obvious patterns of how disease and sickness spread. He imagined that there could be something very small, hidden in his blood, co-opting his better intentions and compelling him to feed it. A parasite hidden within.

So with this assumption, and knowing that he needed to find a way to establish a life and fill it with purpose, he began to enact plans built over nearly a decade at sea.

He made his way to the homes of several people he had scandalous and damaging knowledge about. When they opened the door, most shooed the fair-skinned and meek-looking young man away dismissively. That was until he made it known that he had information that they would like to keep quiet. Then they listened. In all his visits, most acquiesced quickly to his requests. Wanting property, wanting money, wanting introductions into social life—all components of an expanding plan. He did however find himself at the end of a pistol of one of the more amoral men on whom he had information.

Wallace Andrew Baylor, a man who had laughed with a fellow conspirator about that last face made by a man they had murdered the year before. Apparently it was a look of shock. He had been a competitor in their shipping business and both had killed the man rather than innovate or take additional steps to remain competitive. Antonios knew that the man’s body had been walled up in the cellar of Lord Baylor’s manor, apparently with a perplexed visage and bullet hole in the chest.

When he brought this knowledge to Lord Baylor, Lord Baylor first acted in contemptuous denial, as most did, but he did eventually ask why Antonios did not involve the authorities. It was when Antonios was explaining that he required Lord Baylor transfer ownership of a parcel of land and the warehouse located on it currently used as storage for shipping that Lord Baylor shifted his focus from Antonios’ words toward his own preservation. Antonios was detailing that the property must be secured in the name of Lord Baylor’s murderous co-conspirator when a metal statue hit his skull.

Lord Baylor had withdrawn a cast-iron statue—an owl carrying a fieldmouse in its claws—from the fireplace mantel and heaved it into the back of Antonios’ head. The corner of the statue crunched through the skull plate and into the soft grey of Antonios’ brain. As he lay on the ground, his vision fading from blood loss, a bullet tore through his back and out the middle of his chest.

Antonios was temporarily knocked unconscious but the Virus worked very quickly to restore the damage to his brain and the bones of his skull. Mending the fractures and healing the soft tissue damage to his chest and lungs. Antonios awakened to his body being dragged down the stairs of the manor into the brick cellar. Lord Baylor was anticipating that he would once again be successful in hiding a body in the brickwork of the cellar. With each tug on Antonios’ ankle, Lord Baylor alternately cursed Antonios’ existence and expressed that he would kill his criminal cohort for this treachery, “just as soon as the mortar sets.”

Lord Baylor paused in his efforts ever so briefly to catch his breath. As he turned to check on Antonios’ corpse, he was quite surprised when the meek-looking corpse hoisted him in the air by his throat with only one hand. Lord Baylor choked out an apology before Antonios ripped into his throat and drank deeply from him, leaving only a shallow pulse and a greatly lightened supply of blood.

--Perhaps, Lord Baylor, you will be the first.

As Lord Baylor’s vision began to fade, small bursts of light like a swarm of angry fireflies exploded into the edges of his sight, then collapsed in toward the center of his vision. His last thought before being pulled from consciousness was the awareness of pain as a hole was cut through his cheek and a taste. A distinctly foul coppery flavor, most certainly from the warm blood washing down his throat.

***

Antonios was not certain if Lord Baylor would ever wake again. He imagined not, but was hopeful to learn more about his own condition. He had for years pondered whether he was inhabited with evil or more likely some sort of disease. He had witnessed disease make its way around many of the ships that he was on, spread by the unclean nature of sailors and the confined spaces of a ship. Regardless of who the first was to fall ill, those who came in contact with them would soon manifest similar symptoms. Within a short span, if the people infected were not confined to a specific area, all would soon carry the weight of fever or cough. It seemed only logical that his condition could also be similarly imparted.

The idea of illness being transferrable had been around for decades, but he had the benefit of his expanded mental capacities and determined that his condition—be it curse or be it disease—was caused by coming in contact with blood.

But regardless of his own ponderings he had no concrete evidence. He had never met another person like him, and he had no idea if he could pass on the condition to another person. All he could do was hope that he could learn something from Lord Baylor, whose shallow breaths had started to stabilize. The wounds in his neck and face had completely scabbed over.

This is a good sign,
Antonios thought to himself. He was unfamiliar with what a normal human body could recover from, since he had discovered that he could recover from just about anything, and it had been a lifetime since he had experienced any illnesses or lasting injury.

***

Two days had passed since Antonios first made Lord Baylor’s rather unpleasant acquaintance. Sure, he had first gone to meet with him to extort something from the man, but still, he had not expected that the man would simply try to kill him. Antonios had killed hundreds over the years, but was not happy about any of them. He was acting out of necessity, acting out of the need to survive. Lord Baylor was simply acting to preserve his wealth and station in life, nothing more. This garnered him no sympathy from Antonios. He mused on how his perceptions on the character of men had grown and changed in the years since he was first touched by the demon.

It was in the midst of that thought that Antonios watched as something spectacular began to happen. Lord Baylor, a pale husk of his former self, barely clinging to life, covered with scabbed-over lacerations on his neck and with a deep hole in his face, stirred ever so slightly. Then as Lord Baylor let out a pained moan, the scabs in his neck began to be absorbed into the skin, and the hole in his face filled in like sand poured slowly into a divot in the ground. The thinned hair of the aged Lord Baylor thickened, with wisps of dark hair erupting from the skin on his head. Age spots and scars faded until all had simply disappeared, leaving healthy, radiant and youthful skin in their place. After the last vestiges of old age were taken, Lord Baylor was transformed into a younger version of himself.

Just this bit of information on how the disease brought youth back to this old man, as it had similarly brought Antonios from a small child to a young man in the same mysterious and rapid manner, filled Antonios with a sense of hope and purpose. He knew that with Lord Baylor he would be able to learn a great many things. Excited by what he had witnessed, Antonios pressed a fireplace poker firmly into the skin just below Lord Baylor’s Adam’s apple. With this he opened his eyes, taking in a panic-filled gulp of air.

***

Lord Baylor had not expected to be tied to a chair in his own cellar, nor had he expected to have his feet and legs completely immobile, but more than anything, he had never expected to open his eyes again. So when he did, Antonios could tell that he was confused by the volume with which the world was now operating, and terrified of Antonios.

Leaving him untied would have been a mistake—if he had even a fraction of Antonios’ own strength then it would have been an unnecessarily difficult night of study. So Antonios had stripped the old man of his clothes, tied him firmly to a chair in the cellar and then meticulously bricked his body up to the middle of his torso and poured the brickwork full of mortar. From his navel to the ground Lord Baylor was virtually entombed by brick and mortar, which had only recently set, just in time for him to show any signs of healing.

Antonios was not interested in creating another like himself, but rather in understanding his own condition, using Lord Baylor as his best possible subject of study. It was time that he know the demon inside him. It was with this intention that he began in earnest to study Lord Baylor, to learn all that he could about his condition, with his newly acquired laboratory rat fixed with permanency to the ground of the cellar floor.

Chapter 24

Tayvon moves swiftly and nimbly through the tunnels, using every opportunity that comes up to test his physical prowess. He was always physically adept. Though not a true fighter or a tough-as-nails badass like some of the others in the crew, he was still impressively agile, able to navigate with ease many areas of the concrete jungle that are too dangerous to entice others. Now he is deep in thought as he alternates between running on the overhead beams and skittering along the ground like a caged animal recently loosed.

Tayvon the man is gone. So what is he now? More than a man, less than a man? Clearly he is capable of horrors, but this is not new. Is he now Tayvon the monster? Tayvon the superhero? Not likely. The supervillain? Maybe. The god?

His mind is awash with all the potential of his new abilities and the life that it can make for him. How to use them to benefit himself, where to go, who to tell. What to say when telling someone. It’s as if he’s won the lottery somehow. He’s fast, strong, and able to heal from any injuries. The options are so vast and so exciting to him that he can’t stay focused on any one topic. His life has been hard to this point, and he has never been one to put much effort into affairs of the mind. At best he could hope to be just another soldier in the NHP army. But now, hell, he can be the general. Fuck it, he can be his own one-man army.

As excited about his new skills as he is, he’s also still concerned over how he was the night before. Unable to break past the glass wall holding him in silent observance of the horrors his body carried out. Scared of the hunger that he felt. Regardless of his fears, he is certain about one thing. He is not happy with how things played out with Dit-Low and Endo.

They are supposed to be like family now; NHP and Lobos. That was the deal when they changed colors; it came with protection. But that was a lie. In his determination to settle the score with Endo and Dit-Low he is willing to pay the toll in blood to exact his revenge, for a betrayal by supposed brothers.

They are about to find out that this dog bites back. And that he’s not just some kinda fool they can beat around on.

Tayvon continues west on the number 2 line heading downtown toward Harlem. Jumping up into the supports or hugging tight against the brick work within the wall nooks to avoid oncoming trains when needed. As he becomes more and more familiar with his body and his heightened senses he no longer slows at all when trains pass by, he simply tumbles and adapts in stride, his pace remaining constant… and fast.

Today he is going to be engaging in a hostile takeover of sorts, and Endo and Dit-Low are getting an early retirement. He knows they will be at the Chapel. He knows it with such certainty that he doesn’t for a moment question it.

***

Dit-Low and Endo know it is a dangerous prospect to gather all the higher-ups in one place, not just from a standpoint of physical risk, but because everyone’s hands are dirty and police are salivating at the chance to tie one person to all the others. Also, other gangs might have eyes on them and recognize that having all the NHP and its captains in one place at one time can make for a quick way to eliminate the threat altogether.

But, regardless of how things have worked in the past, the meeting is necessary. Captains from every crew and corner are in attendance, leaving their turf without a perceptive set of eyes connected to a functioning brain to look after them.

The idea does not sit well with any of them, but the rumors of Chubbs and the others getting touched all in one night—now that is something to perk everyone’s ears and have them disregard the remnants of convention.

As the final members make their way into the Chapel they are hit with a blast of refreshingly warm air. Most are soaked from head to toe, having had to walk through one of the rare downpours in the city. Their clothes and shoes leave wet tracks on the crackling linoleum flooring.

As the bustling group settles into various makeshift seats around the Chapel Dit-Low prepares himself to speak.

--Ya’ll need to settle. I know everyone got questions, and shit, I got ’em too.

A questioning voice interrupts his words.

--Shit true? About Chubbs? Mothafucka get killed by some kinda wolf-dog or whatever? Shit’s fucked up!

Dit-Low shakes his head.

--Ha. I wish it was that easy to explain. Me and Endo, we was there. Saw it with our own two, and that shit weren’t no fucking poodle.

He smiles awkwardly.

--I need to know who here knows Tayvon. From the old Lobos crew. Who’s rolled with him before? Who knows his family? Who has info on the kid?

Cincinnati, one of the captains from the newly acquired Lobos, steps up, his face puzzled at the questions.

--Tay? From Morris Side? Skinny nigga? Man, what’s this got to do with Chubbs and them other boys?

Endo chimes in.

--You know the nigga?

--Yah, man. He’s just a punk kid. Grinds on the corner there with some of them other boys. His momma is a local staple though. Been known to offer up her cookies for a taste now and again. But he ain’t nothing.

Dit-Low nods.

--You heard from any of them boys on the corner?