Mexico City Noir Read Online Free Page A

form, the memories escape from his brain. He extracts yet another butt and lights it with the previous one. Yes. Fernando ran into me. I didn’t see him. I didn’t see the others either. No, chief, I swear it. I didn’t see the plates. Or the uniforms. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t hear anything. I’m nobody. Not even the shots in the belly. Goodbye, Big Chief. I’ll visit some other day, when it’s calmer.
    He takes another glance at the bell tower, at the church doors, and pushes the cart. A step. Another. Then one more.
    A black cloud passing in front of the sun makes him think dusk has arrived. Vikingo has a moment of joy and sighs. He reaches for the bottle and caresses it tenderly. He doesn’t open it; he’ll wait to get to the government parking lot later tonight. He lifts the bottle to get a good look at it. Street liquor. How did it end up in his hands? He scratches his head and his nails run into a clump of flat and sticky hair. He smells his fingers: dirt and blood. The bottle was a gift, he remembers now. A gift from Fernando. Poor Fernando. He ran into me and fell. He was already falling. Yes. It’s his blood. Poor man.
    When the clouds let the sun’s rays through, a mordant restlessness seizes Vikingo. He picks up his step. He walks. Pushes. I have to get to the lot entrance. I didn’t see anything. The street liquor. No. The dead guy didn’t give it to me, it was the others. The guys behind him, the ones who were after him. I’m nobody. I don’t know anything. The street ends at another street. Vikingo looks for a sign at the corner until he sees it: University. The public square is there to the left. The entrance is a little further. But it’s still daytime. He has to keep walking. Just like when he lived around Parque Delta. Always walking. Why? Because otherwise the guys in blue wake you up, the tecolotes, they called them. And why would they wake you up? Because that’s the way it is. Because they’re the law. And if they take you in, they beat you to a pulp just to amuse themselves. Better to keep walking. A step. Another. Then one more.
    A woman crosses his path. She looks at him. Vikingo thinks her face looks familiar. He thinks he remembers her scolding him for being so dirty and stinking so badly, shooing him from the sidewalk, threatening to call the police if he didn’t go away. He wants to go around her but the woman stops to block him. He thinks about going backward, but he can’t remember how to do it; he only knows how to walk forward. The woman is so disagreeable. She comes toward him, grabs the cart, the wire grid.
    “I knew you had to come this way, smelly. You’re not going to get away from me. I already know what you did last night. C’mon, show me what you’ve got in your cart.”
    Last night. It wasn’t me. I’m nobody. Vikingo freezes. His legs buckle. His heart races wildly. The image of this Fernando in a bloody pool flashes in his memory. Fernando. That’s what the others called the guy they were after. “Fernando! Stop right there, cabrón! You want protection but you don’t want to pay for it? We’ve come to collect, you son of a bitch!” That’s what the guys in uniform were yelling at him. Then the shots. “And you, get outta the way, you fucking bum! And if you open your mouth, you know what’s gonna happen to you!” The images jump to Vikingo’s mind out of order, as if the woman’s scolding has triggered them. Fernando running. His belly spilling blood. I pushed him and I got covered with it. Fernando on the ground. Blood on my hands. And the bottle … They gave me the bottle. “You haven’t seen anything, you bum.” “No, chief. I didn’t see a thing. I never see anything. I don’t hear anything. I’m nobody.” “That’s how we like it, cabrón. Here, take this bottle. It’ll help you forget.” “Yes, chief.” “But we’re always going to remember you. And we’re the law. We can take you whenever we want. You