It’s after midnight and the streets are nothing but empty cabs. We’re driving in circles, jockeying for worthless positions, waiting for the smallest crumbs to fall.
“I’ll let you know when we get there.” A trace of an accent, a bit of a drawl, way too much attitude.
“Why not?” Straight out of The Wild Bunch. William Holden: Fifty thousand dollars cuts an awful lot of family ties.
“Probably all dead,” he says.
“Too bad,” he says.
“What are you afraid of?”
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
He’s got a point. There’s nobody on the street. Most of the buildings are gone. Moonscape and rubble, and junk dumped directly under NO DUMPING signs nailed to thriving stink trees. Trees of heaven, the cockroach of horticulture. It’s the perfect tree for West Madison. It needs almost no nourishment. It’s the gangbanger of the prairie.
