The Deadly Streets by Harlan Ellison

Author:Harlan Ellison
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2003-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

“Come on, Petey,” the first boy said, soothingly.

“Yeah. Petey,” chimed in his friend, a meatball with curly hair and bad teeth, “Don’t give us no trouble. We want that gun, and we’ll take it whether you give it or not. Steel like that don’t come along very often…”

Petey Cosnakof watched the three boys. He watched them carefully as they advanced, and the past year flowed back around him terrifyingly.

A full year of being beaten up in the gutters, of having his pocket money stolen from him, of being made the butt of involved and cruel jokes, of having them constantly call him “Little Petey Polack.” The year flung itself back upon him like a damned soul, and he cringed further against the wall, hoping it would leave him alone.

They’d been beating him up ever since he’d moved into the neighborhood, and they wouldn’t let him join the Knifemen. He was on the outside, and they didn’t like him. His name wasn’t Carter or O’Donaghey or even Smith. It was a bastardy-sounding thing like Cosnakof. He was a dirty little Polack bastard!

So they’d shoved him around, and taken his money, and called him names, and made fun of him. But now, suddenly, it was different—now he could protect himself.

Now he had the gun, and it felt warm and firm in his grip. But they wanted it, and they’d take it from him if he couldn’t be a tough boy. You had to be tough in this block—or get stomped.

He felt his shoulders smack up against the brick wall at the end of the alley. The three boys stopped momentarily and grinned at one another. The first boy—slim and wiry, with a feather-line scar across his right cheek—the boy called Snake, reached into his pocket, saying, “I’m sick and tired of this little crapper, anyhow. I’m gonna show him what a Knifeman stud can do when he don’t like somebody.”

He came up with the long switchblade, and flicked the weapon open with a sharp movement of his hand. The blade leaped up and Snake came on once more.

“Get back…get the hell back or I’ll cream ya!” Petey screamed, running the back of his hand across his mouth nervously.

“S’help me, I’ll plug ya if ya don’t get away from me!”

Snake put out a hand, palm up. “Gimme the rod, Petey. Give it here or you’ll be sorry. I got this shank starin’ at ya, kid, and if I don’t getcha, there’s thirty studs in the Knifemen, and they’ll get to ya if ya bother us.”

Farmer, the fat, greasy one, and Arnie, the thickset gorilla of a boy, stood back and watched as Snake moved on Petey. They wanted that gun; it would be real diggin’ murder in a rumble with the Golden Hawkers, but they didn’t want any holes in their skulls getting it.

“Get away from me, Snake!”

“You can’t go no further, kid, so you better come up with it and stop givin’ me any trouble before I’m forced ta slice ya! I’m

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