>From: aa687@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Keith Ammann)
Subject: STORY:  Law of the Pack  (SR)
Date: 29 Oct 91 22:29:20 GMT


                                Law of the Pack

      The gray October wind blew plastic wrappers up the street and some of
the brown haze out of the air.  The afternoon sky was thick with clouds.  The
street was empty of people except for a thin, white-haired young man wearing a
respirator mask and a goblin in a tan trenchcoat and spiked dog collar.  As
the thin youth covered his motorcycle with a plastic sheet, the goblin stared
at the sky.
      "So much for today's job-hunt," said the goblin, spitting on the ground.
      "Yeah, Arch, like we were goin' anywhere anyway."  The young man pulled
off his respirator and wrinkled his nose.  "Man.  This rain better wash some
o' the smog down."  The two moved into a nearby doorway and sat down on the
steps.  Thunder rumbled quietly to the west.
      "I don't know why you're hangin' around with me, man," said the goblin.
"You're the one with the diploma.  You could be out doin' somethin'."
      The human shook his head.  "The corps ain't for me, Archie.  I can't
live like that.  You gotta give yourself away, man.  They don't let you have
your own life anymore.  I'd rather stay on the streets."
      "Man, Corin, you always was the spooky one."
      Neither one said anything for a while.
      "How's your dad?" asked Corin.
      "Better.  He's finally gettin' the people organized.  They're gonna have
some kind of rally."  Archie kicked his heel against the concrete steps.  "I'm
glad he finally got that promotion.  'Bout time they got an ork foreman down
there.  Might make some real money now."
      "You think of applyin' down there?"
      "Naw, man.  Not on the line."
      "Why not?"
      "Because . . ."  Archie thought for a minute, rubbing his enlarged lower
teeth with his thumb.  "Because I wanna be someone.  Because I want a real job
and a real life.  I don't want people lookin' at me like I'm just another dumb
ork with nothin' but muscle and attitude.  That drek chokes, man."
      Corin looked down, then at Archie.  "They gonna think that anyway."
      Archie sighed.  "I know.  But down on the line, people fight you to
prove it.  Too much hate there for me, man.  I don't wanna get into all that."
      "I know what you mean," Corin said.  "But you gotta get somethin'
sometime."
      "Yeah."  Archie hadn't had a job since he'd left high school.  He hadn't
even gone for an interview since the disaster a year before, when he applied
for a counter job at the neighborhood Stuffer Shack convenience store, hoping
that he could eventually make it to manager.  Since that interview, he'd
always found excuses not to go to any others, fearing the rejection he was
sure he'd receive.

      "Name?"
      "Archie Santangelo."
      "How old are you?"
      "Nineteen."
      "Education?"
      "Two years at Jarman High."
      "Only two?"
      Archie hadn't thought it would be the right thing to say that he'd been
expelled his junior year for trying to stop a fight.  The fight had been
between two normals.  The security guard, seeing Archie shove the larger of
the two hard against a locker, assumed he had started the fight.  For some
reason, the dean didn't think it was strange that a B student with a clean
disciplinary record would assault two other kids at once.  "That's right,"
Archie said.
      "Program?"
      "College prep."
      "Not vocational?"
      The dogs in Archie's head woke up.  His voice took a hard edge.  "No,
not vocational.  College prep."
      The interviewer noticed the change in tone and looked up coldly.  Archie
had made his first mistake.  "What previous experience do you have?"
      "None yet."
      "None yet," repeated the interviewer, as if he had guessed the answer
beforehand and just been proven correct.  "What made you want to work at
Stuffer Shack?"
      "It's near home," Archie replied as Corin had coached him.  "I don't
have a car.  I can work night shifts.  I know how the stores are organized.
I'm not afraid of being robbed."
      The interviewer smirked.  "Do you know what to do in case of a robbery?"
      "Don't resist.  Get a good look at the robber so you can describe him
later.  Give him what he wants.  Hit the Panicbutton as soon as he leaves."
      The interviewer scowled.  He'd expected the ork to say something like,
"Jump the counter, maul the fragger, and give what's left to the cops."
Somehow he didn't like the fact that Archie knew the right answer.  He looked
up.  "Why the dog collar?"
      Second mistake.  He'd forgotten to take it off before the interview.  "I
just like it."
      "Can't wear it on the job."
      "I understand."
      "We have strict dress codes.  You wear the uniform and the hat.  No
scruffy clothes, no street clothes.  No dog collars."
      "I understand."
      "Good."  The interviewer looked down again.  "Any criminal record?"
      "Nope."
      "No assaults?  No vandalism?"
      "I said no."
      "Ever stolen from an employer?"
      "I told you, I've never been employed."
      "You drink?  Use drugs or chips?"
      "I don't have a jack.  And I don't use drugs."  The dogs began to growl.
      "But you do drink."
      "Yeah, some."
      "Ever drink on the job?"
      Archie jumped up.  "Goddamnit, I told you!  I haven't had any other job
yet!"
      The interviewer looked up slowly, icily, and closed the folder.  Strike
three.  "Thank you, Mr. Santangelo.  That will be all."
      Archie looked open-mouthed at the interviewer.  Gradually, disbelief was
replaced by understanding.  "You never intended to hire me at all, you
bastard.  You were just stringin' me along.  It's 'cause I'm an ork, isn't
it?"
      The interviewer said nothing.
      "Isn't it?"
      The interviewer pressed a button on his telecom.  "Liz, please show the
applicant out."
      "You goddamn bastard."  Archie shook his head and walked wearily out of
the office, ignoring the girl in the doorway who stared at him vacantly.  The
barking of the dogs was giving him a headache.

      The clouds finally broke open.  A drizzle of pale yellow rain began to
fall, turning gradually into a steady shower.  Archie backed further up the
steps, pulling his longer legs out of the rain's reach.  The wind picked up.
Corin zipped up his heavy black jacket.
      "What time is it?" Corin asked.
      "Why don't you get a watch?" said Archie.
      "Can't afford one, drekhead.  What time is it?"
      Archie looked.  "Quarter after four."
      "Guess we're stuck here for a while."
      The rain continued on into the early evening.  When it finally stopped,
Corin took a sniff, decided the air was safe to breathe again, and walked up
the block toward his basement apartment.  Archie went down the block to his
own building.
      His family was already seated around the dinner table when he got there.
"Hurry, Archie, your food's getting cold," his mother called as he hung his
long coat on a peg, picked up his two sisters' coats, and hung them up too.
He sat down at the table between his father and his younger sister, Mary.  The
dinner was flavored nutrisoy, as usual.  No specials tonight.  He picked up
his fork and started shoveling it in.  His father was talking about the union;
they were going to have a rally the next night.  Archie made interested
noises.
      "Mommy, can I get a straw?" Mary asked.
      "Certainly, honey."  Archie's mother got up and went to the drawer that
had the straws.  She and his other sister, Anna, hadn't undergone the mutation
that affected Mary, him, and their father, making their muscles denser and
stronger, their frames taller, and their faces frightening parodies of normal
humans' faces, with slightly pointed ears and overgrown lower canines that
poked out between their lips.  Archie and his younger sister had been born
that way; their father, he was told, changed at puberty.  He'd spent three
weeks in the hospital, and come out more strong and stubborn than ever before.
Anna, being fifteen years old, was considered beyond risk.  She would probably
stay human the rest of her life.
      "Mom, why you gettin' Mary a straw?" Archie said.  "She's gotta learn to
drink from a glass some time."
      "Archie, don't be mean."
      "I'm not bein' mean, Mom.  Mean is gonna be the kids in high school
askin' why she don't drink out of a glass like everyone else."  Mrs.
Santangelo put the straw in Mary's glass with a resigned look at Archie.  Mary
drank the soymilk.  Archie shook his head and returned to his food.
      "Find a job today, Archie?" asked his father.
      Drek, thought Archie, having hoped that his father would talk about the
union until dessert.  "No, Pop.  Got rained out."
      "It wasn't raining this morning."
      "I wasn't up this morning."  Knots formed in Archie's stomach.  His
appetite fled.  The dogs howled.
      "Why weren't you up this morning?"
      "Pop, I'll go out tomorrow."
      "Answer me!  Why weren't you up looking for a job this morning?"
      "Michael, please."  His mother's face had a pained expression.
      "Paula, stay out o--"
      "Pop, I'll go tomorr--"
      "Don't shout --"
      "You will get up out of --"
      "Pop, I will --"
      "Can I head over to Rachel's?" said Anna.  Her soft, steady voice cut
through the shouts.  The argument lost what little continuity it had.
      "Yes, dear, go ahead," said Mrs. Santangelo.  Anna got up from the table
and went for her coat.  Archie and his father looked at each other once again.
      "Archie, hon, if you're not doing anything tomorrow, could you pick Mary
up from school?" asked his mother before the shouting could begin again.  The
front door opened and shut.
      "He's not--"
      "Yes, Mom," Archie said.  His father scowled angrily.  "Pop, I'll check
the ads tomorrow morning."
      Mr. Santangelo glared at Archie, pushed away from the table, and walked
into the TV room.

      Archie got up early the next morning, mainly because his father woke him
up.  That day he browsed through the want ads on the newsfeed, made a couple
of half-hearted phone calls, and didn't write down the information he got.
      Early in the afternoon, he went out to find Corin.  He was hanging
around on the corner with Martin Megistus, the street magician.  Martin was
popular with all the kids, but only Corin had stayed interested in the old
man's tricks as he grew up.  He was learning the stuff himself.  Martin had
always told Archie he had the talent as well, but Archie could never stay
interested.  Most of the things the magician said went over his head.  Any
time he thought he understood something, the dogs would get restless, and he'd
lose his concentration.  Corin could focus his attention on something for
hours at a time.  Archie didn't care about things if he didn't understand them
right away.
      Corin, as usual, was completely wrapped up in what the magician had to
say.  Archie tried to look interested but couldn't.  His efforts to get
Corin's attention away from the magician came to nothing.  His "Sayonara" as
he left barely got a nod.  He checked his watch.  It was a little after two-
fifteen.  He headed off to pick up his sister.

      Archie walked up the drive to the front door of Milton Elementary.  He'd
gone there too, when he was little.  The lobby always looked really small
compared to how he remembered it, no matter how many times he came back.
Watercolor paintings from the art classes covered the fake-wood-paneled walls.
Children milled noisily about.  Parents bumbled through the crowd, calling
out, trying to find the ones that were theirs.  Carefully and gently Archie
pushed his way over toward the auditorium doors, next to that weird metal
thing that was supposedly a sculpture.  It had been there forever.  Corin had
always been fascinated by the metal thing, with its small, intricate shapes
and moving parts.  Archie had never gotten the point.  He craned his neck and
scanned the lobby, looking for Mary.
      When he spotted her, the dogs started barking in his head.  She had been
crying; there were dark circles under her eyes.  A big black smudge of dirt
covered one side of her new jacket.  Her long, brown hair was messed up.
Considerations of politeness aside, Archie plowed through the crowd toward his
sister.
      "Mary, tell me what happened."
      "No."  Her lip trembled.
      "Who did this, Mary?  Tell me who did this?"
      "No."  She shook her head.
      "Dammit, Mary, what happened?"
      "Nothing."
      Archie felt ready to explode with frustration.  "Come on.  Let's get
home."  He took her hand and started walking, too fast, toward the door.
      As they walked out the door and down the drive, Archie's questions were
answered.  A group of human kids, standing at the bus stop, pointed and
laughed.  Archie stopped in his tracks and put a hand on Mary's shoulder.
"Stay right here, Mary," he said.  Mary stood as still as a fencepost.  Archie
strode toward the bus stop kids.
      "What're you starin' at?" he shouted.  "What the hell you think you're
starin' at?"  Most of the children stopped laughing.  One whispered, "I don't
know, but it's u-u-ugly!"  Another giggled at that.
      "Who said that?" demanded Archie.  The dogs strained at their leashes.
"Who was it?  Was it you?" he shouted into on child's face.  The child was
petrified.  Archie straightened up.
      "That," he said with fierce restraint, "is my sister.  You hear me?  My
sister.  And if I find out that any of you little snots are messin' with her
again, teasin' her, pushin' her around, callin' her one single fraggin' name
that's not her own, then I hope you got the bus fare to get back from where
I'm gonna kick your snotty little asses to.  You got that?  One word!  One
word and you're meat."  The children stood frozen, speechless.  Out of the
corner of his eye, Archie saw a teacher walking over.  He nodded to her and
turned to walk back toward his sister.  The teacher continued walking,
approaching him.  He gritted his teeth.
      "Can I help you, sir?" the teacher asked accusingly.
      Archie turned his head and gestured to his sister.  "No, but maybe you
could start helpin' her.  'Bout time someone did."  He shut himself off from
the teacher, took Mary by the hand, and walked her home without a word.
      On the way, his head was full of angry thoughts.  Three of those kids
had been African.  Forty years ago the rest of the world had been treating
them the way they were treating his sister.  Nobody seemed to remember that
anymore.  Archie hung his head.  He wondered if he actually could bring
himself to do anything to those kids if they bothered Mary again.  He wondered
if he'd ever be able to live with himself if he did.  His hand gripped Mary's
tightly.  The dogs remained awake, watching.

      When Archie got home, Corin was waiting outside.  "Sorry I wasn't --"
He noticed Mary's condition and broke off.  What happened? he mouthed.
      Archie motioned Corin to come on in.  He glanced at the elevator; broken
again.  It's not fair to make a ten-year-old kid walk up four flights, he
thought.  He carried Mary up the steps.
      His mother told Mary to go change and wash up.  "Mom," Archie started,
"a bunch of kids were --"
      "It's okay, Archie.  She's fine.  She just needs to get straightened
up."
      "Mom, she's not fine.  The kids are knockin' her around.  You gotta talk
to the teachers there."
      "She'll be fine, Archie.  She's not hurt.  Just a little dirty."
      "What if she gets hurt?"
      "Archie, don't worry.  Everything will be okay."  Mrs. Santangelo turned
and followed Mary.
      Archie swung his fist at the air.  "Nothing.  Not a damn thing I can
do."
      "C'mon, Arch.  'Sko over to my place."  Corin motioned Archie to leave.
      They went out the door.  Anna was coming up the stairs.  "Hoi, Anna,"
said Archie.  Corin waved.  She smiled at the two and turned into the
apartment without a word.
      Corin walked down the stairs.  Archie stomped.  "I can't take this
anymore," Archie said.  "Kids pickin' on Mary.  Guys at work givin' Pop the
screws.  Pop givin' me hell for not bein' perfect.  Day after day with nothin'
to do.  I can't take it."
      "Get a job."
      "Slot off, man, I'm serious.  I am goin' absolutely nuts.  I live on a
street with squatters, chipheads, people with dead-end jobs and unemployed
bums like us.  And there's not a fraggin' thing I can do about it!  I can't
even get a fraggin' job--"
      "You tried lately?"
      "That's not the fraggin' point!" snapped Archie as they walked out the
door.  "Even if I tried, I wouldn't get nothin'.  They're keepin' me out.
Don't want me.  Don't want a fraggin' ork doin' somethin' they could get a
normal do to.  Don't want me nowhere but on the line or on the street, where I
can't do nothin'.  Christ, I gotta do somethin'!"
      "What can't you do?"
      "I can't change nothin'.  I can't stop people from messin' with my own
goddamn sister.  I start maulin' people, what does that do?  Nothin'.  I'm
just what they want me to be then, see?"
      Corin nodded quietly.  "Yeah, I get it."
      "I don't wanna hurt no one.  I just can't stand to see all this drek
goin' on around me.  I gotta do somethin'.  God, they won't even let me
protect my own goddamn sister."
      Corin gave Archie a moment to cool down.  "Let's get somethin' to eat,
man."
      "Got no appetite," said Archie.
      "You can buy mine, then."
      Archie laughed.  "You take me to Stuffer Shack, you're meat."

      The dogs started barking later that evening.  Archie couldn't shut them
up.  They drove him to distraction.  As he and Corin approached his building,
the barking became more and more insistent.  Archie stared at the building.
In his mind, the dogs barked disaster.  A dreadful intuition overcame his
reason.  He bolted away, up to the building and through the door, bounding up
the steps two and three at a time, hitting the stairwell wall once as he lost
his grip swinging around the rail.  The dogs barked incessantly.  He burst
through the apartment door without turning the knob all the way, nearly
ripping the bolt slot from the frame.
      His mother sat on the couch, holding Mary.  The girl was crying in
terror and grief, tears streaming down her face, gulping in air and expelling
it in horrible wails of anguish.  His mother sat still, her face pale, her
eyes sunken, staring straight ahead, mechanically stroking the girl's hair.
Anna sat on a chair in the dining room, tracing a finger around in circles on
the table.
      "What's wrong?" screamed Archie.  "Someone fraggin' tell me what's
wrong!"  His shouting intensified the young girl's crying.  His mother shrunk
back against the sofa.  Neither spoke.
      The only answer came from the other room.  "The Humanis Policlub crashed
Pop's union rally," said Anna in a melancholy monotone, not looking in
Archie's direction.  "They came with baseball bats and shotguns.  They said
they were there to punish the local that hired goblins as foremen."  She
paused.  "They beat Pop to death."
      The dogs were going crazy, barking, pulling at their leashes, jumping
and cursing and yelping in every direction.  Archie's head spun.  "They what?
Who were they?  Who did it?"
      "The police broke it up," said Anna.  "Pop was already dead.  They
arrested a bunch of them."  Anna looked at Archie, a strange, puzzled
expression on her face.  "Mom won't press charges."
      "WHHAAAAGGHHH!"  Archie had meant to confront his mother, but instead of
words came an inarticulate roar.  His mother's face was devoid of emotion,
almost devoid of life.  She spoke like a ventriloquist's dummy, like the words
weren't her own and she was only the medium.  "I don't want any more trouble,
Archie.  I don't want any more trouble.  Everything will be all right.  It has
to be.  No more trouble."
      In his anger, Archie brought both his forearms down on the end table,
smashing it into jagged fragments.  His mother closed her eyes tightly.  Mary
wailed.  Anna turned back to staring at the table.  The dogs broke free, the
pack charging off on the hunt.  Archie, running, followed them out the door,
leaping down the stairs.  On the second flight he turned his ankle painfully
as he landed.  The pain only added to his rage as he stubbornly and unevenly
ran down the rest of the stairs and out into the street, screaming
incoherently all the way.
      Corin saw his friend tear out of the apartment building, yelling his
guts out, loping along with a face that could give a mercenary a heart attack,
and was instantly struck still with shock.  Archie never even saw Corin as he
ran through the streets in agony, flailing his arms, barely maintaining his
balance.  The dogs had been loosed to the hunt.  Hunting normals.  Archie was
part of the pack, being driven along with them.  The pack would find their
quarry, and Archie would join them as they chased and cornered and tore it to
pieces.  He charged down the streets with the pack, looking for the one that
would pay for the crime of what normals had done to his family.
      Suddenly something caught him and he wasn't running, he was falling. . .
His body slammed against the pavement, his jaw scraped against asphalt.  His
hands were torn by gravel.  He tried to get up but couldn't get his limbs to
obey his commands.  He was losing the chase.  As he lay on the ground,
screaming pleas to the darkness, the pack charged off and left him behind.  He
collapsed down and sobbed helplessly, unable to do anything.
      Combat boots appeared next to Archie's head.  Corin was kneeling down
beside him, his face painted with nervousness and every limb shaking.  "You
go-g-gotta ch-chill, Arch," he stuttered out.  "You g-gotta t-tell t-t-tell me
wh-wha-what ha-what happened."
      Archie's voice was choked with anguish.  "They got away . . .  The
fraggers got away. . . ."
      "Who-who did?"
      "They're gonna pay," sobbed Archie.  "I'm gonna kill 'em . . . kill 'em
all . . . every fraggin' one. . . ."
      "Archie, what are you talkin' ab-bout?  You're n-n-n-n--"  Corin
scrunched his eyes shut and bit his lip.  "You're . . . not . . . going to
 . . . kill anyone."
      Archie's scream tore ruts through the street.  "I KNOW!!  They'll never
let me . . . won't let me defend my own fraggin' family. . . .  Don't you see?
All this goddamned drek . . . I can't do anything . . . they won't let me. . ."
      "Archie, you can't kill anyone.  You said it yourself.  You can't become
what they want you to be."
      Archie exhaled a deep sob and dropped his head.  His forehead hit the
asphalt, jarring his senses.  "I can't be anything," he breathed out.  "I
can't do anything.  All I can do is lie here and take it."  He paused.  "All I
can do is lie here.  Corin, why can't I move my fraggin' arms?"
      "My fault, man."
      Archie suddenly felt free to move.  He sat up dizzily.  "What the hell'd
you do?"
      "Somethin' Martin taught me.  Said your anger'd run away with you
someday.  Told me to do that if I ever saw it happen."
      "Do what?"
      "Never mind, man."  Corin took a deep breath.  "C'mon, let's get you
cleaned up.  You're a fraggin' mess."
      "Gimme a sec.  My head hurts."  Archie lay back down, propping himself
on his forearms.  "I dunno what to do, man.  I feel so fraggin' helpless.
Muscle an' attitude, an' I can't use it.  Not without becomin' somethin' I
can't stand to look at."
      "You can use the attitude, Arch.  You know what's right.  You got the
fight in you.  Just gotta fight with your head, not your fists."
      "My head don't work as good as my fists."
      "Your head works fine, man.  I can't stand stupid people, but I hang
with you."
      "You think they'd let me back into Jarman?"
      Corin thought.  "Doubt it.  Maybe another school."
      "Got no car."
      "We'll figure somethin' out.  Come on."
      Corin steadied the ork's arm as he got to his feet.  They walked and
limped up the block.  "Hey, Corin," Archie asked.  "How come you got so many
books?  You won't buy a TV or a fraggin' watch, but you buy books?"
      "You wanna read any of 'em, you're welcome to," was all Corin said.

--
justify your existence - question authority - be excellent to each other
think for yourself - think for someone else - aa687@cleveland.freenet.edu
keith ammann - eat too much spaghetti and spin around as fast as you can
tell someone you love 'em - go easy - listen to the kinks - live with honor