days received blessed bullets through the head and heart.
Goss, a six-foot-seven black man with a pro wrestler’s body, handed Poe Black Belt Jones, Rally Round the Flag Boys, and a bootleg Pixies concert
DVD – all rare gems . He knew how much she loved Gloria Hendry, Paul Newman, and especially the Pixies, which was one of her mother’s favorite bands along with the Clash and Sonic Youth.
“Thanks, Goss,” she said as she patted his bulky jacket. “This is a h-hard-to-find Paul Newman! Four more and my Newman collection w-will be complete.”
Goss taped a perfectly cut Boondocks strip from old Sunday funnies on Poe’s busy wall. The comic strip was growing on her. It served up history through the point of view of children with attitude. She didn’t particularly understand the dated political angle, but the jokes were hilarious anyway.
“Hmpf! I told you what I think of that nonsense,”
the nun said, gritting her teeth and fingering the cross hanging upon her chest.
“Yeah, Sister, I heard you.” He carefully smoothed the taped ends to get the bubbles out. Goss was a tad fastidious. “I heard you say that it was nothing more than a racist piece of propaganda. But 12
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Poe needs to be infused with something other than the still prevalent white pop culture in these dark times –
even if she is the last one of her kind. She’s got to feel some pride.”
“Like Black Mama, White Mama or the other gems you’re so fond of bringing her? In case you haven’t noticed, she’s not black. She’s all kinds of other complicated things, God help us! Her mother was Japanese and Filipino and let’s see…her father was Scot-Irish and Mexican or something difficult like that.” She squinted at Poe whose long and deep diagonal facial scar turned white from the attention.
“Exactly! That constitutes multiracial, and therefore she qualifies as an honorary sista!” he reasoned, looking at Poe who stood mutely as her friends tried to outdo each other. It wasn’t the first time the two clashed. The girl held up her hands and silently conveyed, “Don’t look at me!”
“And really, if she gets captured up there, they might declare she’s not white enough to be cattle. Her black hair, dark eyes, and curious features, not exactly Caucasian and not altogether ethnic, might just get her in trouble. She might end up changing bedpans and wiping ass for dying vamp snacks and incinerating corpses like I did.”
“At the risk of sounding like a cold-hearted bitch,” Sister Ann stated with much strain as she tried her hardest never to swear. “I’d rather Poe shove bodies in furnace chutes than be laid narcotized on a cot getting bled and molested by leeches.”
“A nun, envoy of the most high, sound bitchy and cold-hearted? Never!” said Goss with a rancorous undertone. “I suppose you’re right. It would be better for Poe to be a custodian, but seeing that she’s light-skinned and pretty, barring the scars – sorry Poe –
chances are they’ve already busted out a cot with her 13
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name Sharpied on the pillow. And if she’s ever unlucky enough to meet Trench, he’ll surely poke a hole through her head. He’ll spit blood into it to turn her into a vamp and add to his retinue of pretty people.”
There were two ways of turning humans into vampires. The speedier method involved pouring vamp blood through a hole in the skull. The second was through repeated biting over several days.
Sister waited for the flesh of her face to stop jiggling. So upset was the nun that her entire body shook. “Everyone’s up for grabs, as we all know,”
Sister Ann said levelly when her composure returned.
“According to my contacts, many farms have started milking their minority custodians as their white cattle die off. Even you, Goss, with your inky blackness aren’t safe.”
“I’ve always thought I looked blue-black myself, Sister.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. Poe hated these moments when the subtleties of race and language divided her friends.
“Maybe these master vampires realize it’s not wise to have so many educated slaves running around.
They might revolt,” continued Goss. “This is California after all. Home of the black bear, Mexicans, movie stars, plastic surgeons, the tired, the weary, the huddled masses. I’ll be the last to go then since my skin’s so inky. The Last Chance Ration. Isn’t that right, Sister?”
Before Sister Ann could retort, the nun’s eyes bulged at the movie playing on Poe’s dented television.
Poe, who didn’t notice the nun’s discomfort until Goss nudged