“It was the fall. Normally a fall won’t sever a spinal cord, but you landed with the small of your back on a revolver, according to the ambulance attendants.” Doctor Rosenthal adjusted his eyeglasses.

“You said a severed spinal cord.” Jason dreaded what was next.

“Yes. You’re paralyzed from the waist down.”

“Fer how long, doctor?” Sister Mildred couldn’t help but ask while wringing her plump hands.

“Permanently. There’s nothing we can do for that kind of spinal injury.” The doctor shrugged his shoulders. “There are also several fractured and herniated discs in your upper back. How are you doing for pain?”

“It hurts when I move.” Jason avoided Sister Mildred’s and Maureen’s eyes.

“I’ll up your pain meds,” the doctor assured him. “The upper back can be fixed, but it’s going to be a long process. Let the nurse know if you need anything for pain. Oh, and what’s with the butterfly bandage on your forehead?”

“I was boxing and got a vicious headbutt.” Jason started to reach up to point to his head, but a spasm of pain dissuaded him.

“How many days ago?” The doctor leaned in closer while pinching the frame of his eyeglasses to get a better view.

“Three, four. It was a Christmas Eve boxing match.”

The doctor peeled off the bandage above Jason’s eye, then walked to the door, where he stepped on a pedal to open the wastebasket. He dropped the rolled bandage into the basket, and let the lid fall. “The nurse will see to your pain meds.”

“Thanks, doctor.” Jason sighed, and just the slight movement caused a twinge of pain.

The doctor conferred with the nurse, who gave Jason an injection via his IV line. After the nurse and the doctor left the room, Sister Mildred and Maureen rushed to his side. Now that they were alone in the room, they pulled their masks down under their chins.

“I’m so sad ta hear it.” Sister Mildred shook her head. There were tears in Maureen’s eyes. “We’ll be prayin’ fer ya.”

“Thanks, sister.” Jason patted her hand. “Looks like you need to find a replacement for me.”

“Those er big shoes ta fill,” the sister said, and Maureen nodded in agreement.

“Not as big as trying to step into Father Milligan’s shoes.” Jason felt like he’d made a mess of things and wondered what the father would do. At least the late priest’s murder had been avenged, as well as the savage beating of Father Bannon. “You two should probably get back to the shelter. Did you even get any sleep last night?”

“We’re fine. We wanted to be here for you, even if…” Maureen’s breathing hitched.

“Thanks, ladies. I’ll be okay. I know you’ve got work to do.” Jason smiled weakly. “Oh, and give my guns to Frank Mulroney at The Punch Drunk Bar.”

“I’ll do that.” Sister Mildred patted his arm reassuringly, then made her way to the door. Maureen turned to leave, but suddenly whirled around and kissed him on the forehead, before joining her aunt at the doorway.

“Holy crap, is that morphine?” Jason wondered, because he felt a euphoric glow wash over him, and it was like he forgot that his back was killing him.

Someone knocked at the door, and Jason wondered if the doctor or the nurse had returned. Jason knew the man who entered the room was a detective before he even flashed his badge.

“Detective Bakker, New York P.D. Can I ask you a few questions about last night?” The detective was a tall, lanky man, with blonde hair, a rosy complexion, and most of his face covered with a surgical mask.

“Sure, but I’m all doped up right now.” Jason felt pleasantly cheerful.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened last night?” The detective took out his notebook and fountain pen.

“Five mandrills crept into my room in the middle of the night, all of them carrying butcher knives. They would have stabbed me like a pincushion in the garment district, but I wasn’t in my bed.”

The detective arched an eyebrow. “Where were you?”

“I made a platform above the window, where I could watch the bed, and where anyone coming in through the window couldn’t see me.”

“Why would you do that?” Suspicion crept into the detective’s voice.

“Because the mayor is a vindictive asshole.” Jason knew he probably shouldn’t have said that. It was probably better to keep quiet, but he felt happy.

The detective was taken aback. “Just because a few primates go rogue…”

Jason laughed. “A few primates, like the mayor’s right-hand man, or chimp? He’s the one who shot me in the shoulder and the leg. He was going to shoot me in the family jewels, too, make it slow, but I turned the tables on him.”

“What happened to the shotgun?” The detective had his pen poised to write. “The mayor’s acquaintance was killed by a shotgun, but it wasn’t recovered from the crime scene.”

“Mayor’s acquaintance?” Jason laughed, and he was glad that it didn’t hurt when he laughed. “The mayor and Bedtime for Bonzo were as thick as Bonnie and Clyde, but now they’re trying to pass him off as an acquaintance?”

“Bedtime for who? Bonnie and Clyde?”

“Whoohoo. I guess the drugs are kicking in.” Jason looked at the wall, where he saw a butterfly flap its wings, and he could feel the breeze on his face, as though it were fanning him.

“Thanks, Mr. Whitlock. I’ll be back if I have any further questions.” The detective flipped the cover of his notebook over and closed the door behind him as he left.

* * *

The mayor sprawled over the couch, wearing just a pair of shorts. Peaches cautiously entered the room after peering around the corner to check on him. Normally, the mayor ranted, raved, destroyed things in the suite, and then threw them across the room, but this worried her, because it wasn’t like him. “Babykins, am I disturbing you?” she called out soothingly, not knowing how he would react.

“Nah, ‘course naht. I jus’ don’t know what ta do. He’s gone.” The mayor looked out the window, which featured a spectacular view of the city, but his eyes were sad, and his face heavy. “We was like bruthahs. Caesar was the best friend a guy could have.”

Peaches just finished curling her hair, so she smelled of Aqua Net hairspray. She laid a well-manicured hand on the mayor’s black, furry arm. With her other hand she reached up and smoothed the mayor’s brow. “Caesar was a good man, and a good friend. Maybe you should look for a replacement.”

“Replacement.” The mayor looked up at the ceiling and let out a low, rumbling sigh. “He ain’t even buried yet, and yer talkin’ replacement.”

“I’m certain Caesar wouldn’t want you to be without an assistant, a right-hand man, someone to help you get things done, would he?” Peaches ran her hand up his brow and over the hair at the top of his head.

The mayor said nothing, but stared at the ceiling with eyes set deep in his sloping skull.

“Would Caesar want you to be all on your own, even for a day?” Peaches’ other hand gently massaged the mayor’s arm.

The mayor looked into her blue eyes, and melted, as he always did. She was the most beautiful dame in the whole world. She was smart too; not in a bookish way, but she always seemed to know what to do. “Naw, he wouldn’t want dat.”

“I’ve arranged for a candidate to come in today.” Peaches had to be careful not to trigger the mayor’s temper. “I know it’s soon, but you’ve got a very big job, and a lot of responsibility, so you need someone to help you.”

“I don’t feel like seein’ nobody.” The mayor tossed on the couch, throwing his considerable bulk sideways, and stared out the window.

“Forgive me, Daddy, if I was too rash, but I invited a candidate here. He’s in the foyer.”

The mayor stirred, and then sat up on the couch with a groan. “You’s right, honeybee, I can’t just sit heah, mopin’ all day. Dis city needs me. Send him in.”

Peaches quickly padded to the foyer, which caused her curls to bounce. “The mayor will see you now.”

The candidate rose from his seat and entered the room, where the mayor sat on the couch, seemingly looking at the cityscape.

“Mr. Mayor, my condolences.”

The mayor slowly turned and studied the candidate, who stood in an olive green U.S. army doughboy uniform. He was a chimpanzee, with a folded cap on his head and a patch over one eye, a patch that couldn’t quite conceal all the scarring at the chimp’s temple.

“I’m Max Viglio. Caesar put the ‘great’ in ‘great ape’ and I’d be honored to pick up where he left off.” The chimpanzee had a military bearing to him, carrying himself with assurance.

“What happened to yer eye?” the mayor asked, referring to the conspicuous black patch Max wore over his right eye.

“Grenade in Gallipoli.” The soldier removed his folding cap and tucked it under his arm.

“You’s from deh home country?” The mayor’s voice rose on a hopeful note.

“My mom and dad are from Genoa.”

“Paysan!” the mayor stood up and embraced Max, who returned the hug. The mayor looked at his girlfriend and smiled. “Ya done good, sweet-haht.”

The two apes broke off the embrace, and the mayor threw an arm around the veteran. “Max, I’d like you’s to meet Peaches, she’s both beautiful an’ bright.”

“Pleased to meet you officially, ma’am.” The chimp nodded slightly but kept his military bearing.

Peaches beamed. “If it’s okay. I’ll just run along and let you two gentlemen get acquainted.”

“Shore, you’s just go on ahead.” The mayor waved her toward her room.

“Ma’am.” Max bid her farewell with a nod.

“Finally! Mugs is always askin’ me if I’m from Africa. Fahkin’ Africa.” The mayor threw a thin hairless hand up into the air as a gesture of frustration. “What paht of Buttafuoco sez Africa to you? Is it ‘cause I’m black?”

“I know the feeling, sir.”

“Joey, please,” the mayor said. “I gots some limoncello heah. My grandpa knows how ta make deh stuff, I’m tellin’ you. So you got any plans?”

“I’ve got plans for you and the city.” For the first time since they’d met, Max smiled. “Big plans.”

* * *

So Jason was paralyzed from the waist down. As he came to, he thought about what the implications were. So where did that leave him in the game? How does a paralyzed player participate in a video game? If you had a paralyzed Mario or Luigi in the Mario Brothers video game, you essentially had no game, or at least not one that any sane person would want to play. None of the first-person shooter games had a player shooting from a wheelchair.

If Jason was paralyzed from the waist down, why would he return to the game? Even if he was super rich in the game, what was the point of having money if he was an invalid? And by invalid…There was the other part of being paralyzed from the waist down, the part he didn’t want to think about. Unlike being a broke teacher, in the game Jason had a sex life. He thought of his experiences with Sisters Belinda and Jamie, the kinky nurse Betty at Dr. Steinman’s office, Jane Goodall, and the wives with impotent husbands who came to him. If he was paralyzed from the waist down, then he might as well be a eunuch, because his sex life in the game was over.

So what was he to do now? Say “buy and hold” and leave the game? He’d hate to give the game peripherals back to his grandfather and say, “I’m done”—that would crush him. The old man had poured his heart and life savings into the game. Maybe there was some kind of reset, where Jason could start over. Although he wasn’t eager to return to being a penniless bum, he felt like he had learned a lot in the game and could return to his current status much more quickly. Still, it had taken him a long time to climb to where he was now in the game, getting to where he was a leader at a men’s shelter, had women, and guns and weapons, including a talisman, for the first time. “Wow,” he thought sarcastically, “what fun it’ll be to use my talisman from my wheelchair, assuming I can even get into a wheelchair—my back is killing me.”

Then something occurred to him: if his dad’s surgery didn’t work out, or there were complications, then his father would be paralyzed, almost exactly like Jason was. All this time Jason had been pretty cavalier about a 20% chance of paralysis, but now that he was paralyzed, he realized just how crushing it was. A guy like his father might be hopelessly alone, but there always remained the slim hope that he might find a woman. If that same man were paralyzed from the waist down, though, the situation became hopeless, because what would be the point in even meeting a woman? A paralyzed man getting a woman into bed is like the dog who finally catches the car he’s chasing, and realizes he’s overreached, because he’s not equipped to handle the situation he’s put himself into.

The cute Puerto Rican nurse entered the room. She had chubby cheeks poking out from behind her surgical mask, and he liked that, but then he caught himself. What was the point?

“Well, Mr. Whitlock,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “it’s time for your sponge bath.”