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by stretches of contained rage. The Neeyanderthal was huge and hulking, a man who walked like he was forever on his way out of the ICU, moving each muscle with considerable care.
    Years ago the Neeyanderthal’s brother had died in his arms, on the way back from a nearby town: some kid had crossed the road in front of them, the Neeyanderthal jammed on the brakes, the brother flew through the windshield, the truck flipped and by the time the Neeyanderthal could get out from under it, his baby brother was dying on the white line and kept right on dying even as the Neeyanderthal held his face, sobbing into it saying Hold on, man, almost there little brother, as tho that could extend his life. It didn’t. Finally the ambulance came to pick up the body, by then so lulled and soothed it looked almost at peace.
    To the Redeemer it seemed the Neeyanderthal had been trying to off himself on blow for years. After the brother thing he launched into more honest attempts. Provoking police, street fighting. Then one time while he was truly looped he came right out and tried to shoot himself through the heart. Like it was no big deal, people were at his place getting trashed, and he got up, went to his room and fired a shot. His luck was so bad one of the credit cards he kept in his pocket to cut coke deflected the bullet, which flew up, barely kissed the top of his heart and came out his back. They found him standing unsteadily with a lost look on his face. Guess this ain’t a boneyard kind of day, he said, and claimed he was smiling when he said it.
    The Redeemer had never contemplated suicide, not even the time Dolphin had pulled him out of that black hole. Whenever he heard about someone who’d decided to cut their own life short he was shocked, especially if it was someone who had the strength to defend themselves; it surprised him not because he thought it was wrong but because he suddenly saw that person like they belonged to an entirely different species, and was astonished they inhabited the same planet. People who could make decisions they weren’t prepared for. So you want to inhale ammonia? You fuckin sure? Dead silence.
    He got to the Neeyanderthal’s place, rang the bell and went back to the Bug to wait.
    He watched a junkman pull his cart up the middle of the street. The junkman looked at the Redeemer in his mask, smiled with superiority, began hacking dramatically, then shook his head side to side and kept on his way.
    The door opened.
    What’s up, Neeyan? asked the Redeemer.
    Damn, man, not a tail to chase or a soul in sight, said the Neeyanderthal, staring out the Bug’s window at the empty streets.
    The Redeemer crossed an avenue with two military trucks down it and turned in another direction.
    First time there’s no traffic and I still got to take the long way, he said.
    At the next avenue they caught sight of a very small funeral procession: one hearse with two cars following behind, three people in the first car, only one in the last.
    Oh, yeah, said the Neeyanderthal, looks like people are real choked up over this fuckin corpse.
    Passing the procession the Neeyanderthal stuck his head out and said aloud, as if addressing the body in the hearse, You’re fooling yourself, man, you’re fooling yourself.
    He would say that about anything: a political argument, a lover’s secret, a soccer game. Afterward he’d add something smartass; in this case, once his head was back inside the Bug, he said Should’ve vacuum-packed your ass…
    Dependable as gravity, that was the Neeyanderthal. He messed with everyone like it was an obligation. Why was he the Neeyanderthal’s compadre? Was it because they’d once been real friends? Was it that he’d watched him grow sadder and sadder? Or that in him he saw something of his own black dog? That’s why we make enemies of our friends as soon as they start to drift, he thought, cos that way they get stuck with all our flaws, unlike when they’re shared. Maybe brief