It got pulled down from the Cloud, Joey is sure, only because Detective Lopez asked Zack for what he knew. If Joey hadn’t come after Zack, had not followed him out of the GreenGirl, Detective Lopez wouldn’t have been involved at all.

Things might have been wildly different. Joey would just continue to be out and around. Zack would have never risked pulling the data down. Would never have taken the chance. Would never have risked Joey’s wrath and fury. Would never have risked Joey’s revenge.

They would each have left the other alone. Live and let live.

But no, Joey couldn’t leave well enough alone. He had to tie up loose ends. Tying up loose ends is what has put Joey into this position.

His fateful, dumb decision to follow Zack out of the GreenGirl. More evidence of Joey’s idiocy. Of his inability to read the situation.

That’s why he always gets pissed off thinking about Zack. Zack is a reminder to Joey of how dumb Joey is. Of his mistakes.

Zack is a reminder of how close Joey was to getting away with it. And didn’t.

Three thousand.

Probably just enough to get him to the end of his life, thinks Joey grimly. Just enough to feed him until he gets the details of the “assignment.” His final assignment.

He finds a cheap room. Stows his carton one last time.

And then, as always, he has to just kill time. Killing time before killing time—one more time. One last time.

He pops the television on but can’t focus on the news or on a movie. He tries some porn, usually a pretty reliable distraction, but can’t even sit still for that. Can’t sit in the room. He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

So he hits the streets again. To walk. To wander.

It’s like prison, he thinks. Worse, actually. Because in prison you know what your days are. There is predictability, relative safety, routine, clarity. You can shut down, go into yourself, whenever you want.

But this has none of that. The call from Karloff could come at any time. So it is all you can think about. It eats up your energy. You can’t go inside yourself.

This is a prison of walking around. A prison that looks to all the world like freedom but is in fact the opposite. It’s a prison of buildings and earth and blue sky and activity and all the bustle of city life. Joey trudges up and down the streets as if they are prison corridors. Keeping his head down, shuffling along. Marking time. Dead Man Walking. Counting down to his doom.