THE HAMMER OF SCHULTZ

A Broad Street Urban Fantasy

There are cities that bury their dead.

Philadelphia gives them season tickets.

It remembers everything.

Every brick knocked loose from Independence Hall. Every factory whistle along the Delaware. Every trolley spark. Every union hall argument. Every fist thrown behind a corner bar because somebody insulted somebody’s mother, neighborhood, football team, hockey team, sandwich, parking technique, or interpretation of the word jawn.

Philadelphia remembers victories especially.

Those become religion.

And religions leave relics.

That was how Gabriel Santiago came to possess the Hammer of Schultz.

He found it in a dumpster.

I. TWO MINUTES FOR EXISTENCE

Gabe did not believe in violence.

This was inconvenient because violence believed enthusiastically in Gabe.

At thirty-two, Gabriel Santiago had spent most of his adult life trying to become the sort of person who could walk away.

Walk away from arguments.

Walk away from drunks.

Walk away from men screaming at traffic.

Walk away from customers who ordered food through an app and then blamed the bicycle messenger because their cheesesteak had cooled during a…