Rage Is Back (9781101606179) (33 page)

“You don't have to be scared of me.” He laid his hands on the table. “There's nothing I could do to you now, even if I wanted. Your father and his friends took care of that.”

“The ones who are still alive,” I said.

Bracken stared into his lap. The smell was slow in coming off him, bound to his body by a shroud of grime. I knew it well. It was the stench of the underground, of depth and blackness, fire and fear.

You can't walk off one map without walking onto another.

He raised his eyes to me. “I have to see Billy.”

“That's a good one.”

“Please. I need his help.” Bracken's lips trembled. He started to speak, changed his mind, leaned back. Changed it again, bent over the table, and hissed the words.

“I need to be
free
.”

“From what?”

Long pause. Slow dissolve into silence.

“You know something, Bracken? He'd probably give it if he could. I want you to think on that.
Billy Rage would help you if he could.
”

Behind the counter, the barista and the café's owner were conferring in hushed, agitated tones. It seemed like a good bet that We Reserve the Right to Refuse Service to Anyone would be invoked shortly, if Bracken stayed.

“I need his help,” he said again, and slumped lower in his chair.

“I have no idea where my father is. He could be anywhere. He could be dead.”

We stared at each other for about a minute, and then his eyelids started drooping, lower and lower, until at last they closed. His head lolled with an agonizing slowness that ended when chin met chest. Anastacio Bracken had passed out. Of all the goddamn things. I packed my shit and bounced.

My father
could
be anywhere, I guess. I tell myself that. But there's only one place I can imagine Billy going, and that's back to the jungle. The thought terrifies me. I can't dwell on it for long, or I start feeling sick. At the same time, though, I understand. I get why. I get him. I didn't have that before.

I try to hold that close.

—

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

hanks to the following writers, without whose vast understanding of graff history and practice this book could not have been written: KET, LORD SCOTCH, TRUE MATH, BOM 5, ZEPHYR, PART ONE, FABEL, UPSKI, Jacob Kimvall and Tobias Barenthin Lindblad. I'm doubly thankful to KEO, a font of knowledge with a knowledge of fonts who drew the jacket and the illuminated letters that begin each chapter. I'm grateful to Daniel Alarcón, Vinnie Wilhelm, Theo Gangi and Alain Maridueña for their invaluable notes on the manuscript, to Eugene Cho for his design expertise, to Joel “J.PERIOD” Astman for proofreading and mixology, and to Victoria Häggblom and Vivien Mansbach for their love and support throughout the writing process. I'm also indebted to my agent, Richard Abate, and my editors at Viking, Amber Qureshi and Liz Van Hoose.

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The End of the Jews

Go the F**k to Sleep

Nature of the Beast
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