That wasn’t particularly unheard of in New York City; the locals weren’t exactly the friendliest of people and would always try to avoid being stopped by tourists or lost vacationers. Now people carried a different type of avoidance though; they weren’t keeping their heads down so they could get on with their busy day and escape being irritated, they were keeping their heads down because they were afraid of what they might see if they looked up. There was a fear amongst the people left in the city and it drifted through the air like an unpleasant aroma in the wind. New York was no longer a vibrant and pulsating place to be, it was a hellhole which those who remained were desperate to get out of, if only they could find a way.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Austin rounded a corner onto the street where his barbers and usual butchers had been. Pausing for a second, he found himself shaking his head at the sight ahead of him. there wasn’t a single window that hadn’t been shattered or a front door that wasn’t busted in.
This wasn’t a well-off part of the city, there wasn’t a Macy’s or Kohl’s for miles. These were small, locally run businesses – the owners knew each other and helped each other out when times were tough, they supported each other, they were part of a community. Living here, Austin had always been proud to be a part of that community; he knew it wasn’t the best part of the city but the people were all good to one another, they cared about each other. Looking around now, he wondered what had happened to that relationship – the sight in front of his eyes couldn’t be the result of the locals in the area. Something else had to have caused this, he was just at a loss as to specifically what that was[MP5].
“Oh jeez,” he said out loud as he stood in front of Harry’s – the barber shop he’d been going to for the last ten or twelve years. It was the place where he’d taken Bowie for his first ever haircut, the place he caught up on the football scores and traded details about which new college boys they thought were going to break into the big leagues. It held many happy memories for him, but looking at it now he could hardly even picture how it used to be.
The three chairs had all been ripped out of the ground, two of them just lying on the floor while the third was missing. The little desk where the cash register had been kept was entirely smashed to pieces, the register and safe that Harry had kept underneath nowhere to be seen. There were even a couple of holes in the wall at the back of the room, copper wiring ripped out of both of them as people had taken the place for all it was worth.
Austin felt a surge of disgust and embarrassment rise up inside of him. How had people stooped so low so quickly? There had been looting and rioting when he last left the city, he and Samuel even getting involved in order to gather the supplies they needed for their journey to Poughkeepsie. But that is all they had taken. They had stuck to a finite list of the items they truly needed and taken them with a heavy heart. Austin knew that if people only took what they needed, then there would be more than enough to go around. But that was not the case here.
People were greedy. They took what they could get their hands on and didn’t stop to question the morals behind it. Certain individuals – if they saw something they could gain an advantage from for themselves – took it, no matter what the consequences might be for other people. Places like Harry’s and the other small businesses on this street had been utterly ripped to shreds without a care in the world. Austin wondered where the old barber himself was and whether he’d been around to see his livelihood destroyed like this. For Harry’s sake, Austin hoped he was far, far away.
Every store that he passed was the same as Austin walked slowly down the street. When he came to the liquor store on the corner, he almost didn’t bother going in because he knew what it would be like. It was only the grumble in his stomach that convinced him to; the unopened packet of Takis he’d found in the gutter and wolfed down making him remember just how hungry he was. Plus, there was the tempting thought in the back of his head that a nice bottle of wine wouldn’t go amiss if he brought it back to the apartment.
The second Austin stepped into the liquor store he knew he had made a mistake. The heavy door slammed shut behind him with a bang and immediately Austin was swarmed by flies that buzzed aggressively around his face in the darkness. The smell of rotting meat made him gag and he covered his mouth with his sleeve, reaching into his back pocket for a flashlight with his other hand. Austin almost didn’t want to turn it on for fear of what he would find; the thin, yellow beam of light landing on a scene from his worst nightmares.
Slumped over the counter, protected by a wall of plastic that was designed to deter robbers, the liquor store clerk lay rotting in a pool of his own dry blood. Austin wretched and dry heaved onto the floor, orange-colored bile flying out of his mouth as the Takis he had only just consumed came back to greet him again.
The man had been dead for some time. His skin – the parts that hadn’t been picked at by animals or already rotted away – was taut against his skeleton, the stages of decomposition steadily playing their part. The closer Austin dared to inch toward the body, the stronger the smell grew, no longer just that of rotting flesh but of feces too. It made his stomach turn and for a second he felt like he was going to vomit again, bile rising in his throat and Austin just barely keeping his mouth closed.
Like many people, Austin had an undeniable fascination with the ugly. People naturally flocked to the weird and wonderful, it was why drivers slowed down on the interstate to catch a glance of a car wreck, or why Shark Week was undeniably the most popular seven days of television across the United States. It was a common human trait to be drawn to the things which should scare and repulse and so that was why Austin leaned closer to view the man’s body, despite his breath that hitched in his throat and his knees that wobbled underneath him. He desperately needed a closer look, he desperately wanted to know what happened.
When he burst from the liquor store minutes later, gasping and panting for breath, Austin almost keeled over. He ended up bent over double in the street, his hands resting on his knees as he filled his lungs with air and recovered from the scene inside. The man – the liquor store clerk – had been shot point blank in the face. His left cheekbone and eye socket had been blown clean off his head, nothing but a gaping hole left where they should’ve been.
“Whoa dude – you haven’t just been in there, have you?”
Looking up, Austin’s head spun for a second as he tried to locate the source of the voice. Dark spots danced around in his vision, teasing him and threatening to plunge him into complete darkness. Taking a few deep breaths, Austin lifted his head again – slowly this time – and locked eyes on a teenage boy who stood on the other side of the street and stared at him.
“Is it true?” The boy asked, taking a step down off the curb and looking like he was going to approach, but then thinking better of it. “Is he really still in there?”
“Yup,” Austin replied. “It’s not pretty.”
Austin had no idea why the clerk had been shot; he’d barely even spared a glance at the shelves of the store, too preoccupied with the state of the clerk. He could guess at looting though, the man perhaps being the only one bold enough to stay behind and defend his property. Poor soul. Straightening up to his full height as he finally felt stable enough to walk again, Austin looked at the young boy and cocked his head to one side, recognizing something familiar about him.
“Do I know you?” He asked. “Do you live around here?”
“Uh-huh,” the boy nodded. “Down there.” He pointed vaguely down the road, in the direction that Austin had come from, but giving no real indication of where he’d come from. Austin figured he must have seen him about before the collapse, his face one that looked familiar but holding no significant resemblance to anyone.
“What happened here?” Austin continued to quiz the kid, keen to get as many answers while someone was talking. There was no one else around who had dared stop or come close to him, all others that he had passed before entering the liquor stor
e keeping their distance or fleeing out of sight. “How did it get this bad?”
The kid laughed. “You been living under a rock or something? The money’s gone. We’ve got nothing left to live off.”
“I know that,” Austin answered, slightly irked by the response. “I mean why hasn’t anyone stepped in to help? I was here in the days just after Trident’s collapse – there was looting and rioting then, yeah, sure. But surely it should’ve all stopped by now, someone should’ve stepped in to do something?”
“There isn’t anyone,” the boy shrugged. “There’s some cops trying to help I guess; they’ve brought out rations and stuff. But it hasn’t really helped. Where’ve you been? Why did you come back?”
“What do you mean rations?” Austin said, ignoring the boy’s questions entirely and just continuing with his own. “Surely the police can do more than that?”
The kid shrugged again, his expression changing and telling Austin that he was no longer interested in the conversation. Worried he was going to walk away; Austin took a step closer to him. The boy was maybe fifteen or sixteen, but far too skinny for his age. His clothes hung off his body like they were a couple of sizes too big, his sneakers scuffed up beyond what was just regarded as fashionable and covered in dirt and grime. It looked like he hadn’t washed or eaten a proper meal in several days, his cheeks gaunt while large, dark bags hung under his eyes.
“Where’s your family?” Austin asked, suddenly feeling his paternal instincts kick in and wanting to do more than just milk the kid for information. He felt like he needed to do something for him, to offer him some help at least. “You got a mom and dad?”
The boy huffed. “Course I do. How else would I be here?”
“Are they around?”
The tough exterior that the teenager was trying to put on slipped at little at the question, giving Austin the answer he hadn’t wanted to hear. No words came from the boys’ mouth, but Austin didn’t need any: the kid was alone. Despite how desperate his own situation already was and how thinly their resources were spread, Austin knew he couldn’t just leave this boy behind now, not after what he had seen.
“I’m Austin,” he introduced himself, hoping to put the boy’s mind at ease a little. “I live back in that direction too. Listen – you don’t have to or anything – but you can come back to my place if you want, get some rest. We’ve got some food and clean water. It’s entirely up to you,” Austin held out his hands to signify that he wasn’t trying to take charge or control the kid at all. “I’m just offering.”
“I’m not a charity case you know,” the boy said, sticking his chin up and trying to puff out his chest to appear bigger. Austin could imagine what was going through his head; he didn’t want to come across weak or pathetic, but the line between that and normality was scuffed out now. There was no weakness in asking for help.
“I know,” Austin nodded. “I’m not saying you are; I’m just being friendly. The city’s changed and even I wouldn’t want to be out here for too long. The offer’s on the table, if you want it.”
Without saying anything more, Austin started walking back up the street, heading back in the direction he’d come. He hadn’t really achieved what he’d set out to do that morning, but under the circumstances he was sure Dante and the others would understand. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Austin walked slowly, giving the kid a chance to make up his mind and start to tag along behind him, if he was inclined that way.
Chapter 7
“No way,” the kid gasped as he walked alongside Austin, the initial trepidation and fear he had felt about following the strange man a distant memory as Austin told him the tale of how he’d fled Poughkeepsie. “They really locked you away like that?”
“Yeah,” Austin half laughed, remembering the madness with a different outlook and managing to smile at how ridiculous it all seemed. He’d finally managed to get the boy to open up with him and had learned his name. He was called Miles and after just a few short minutes of conversation, Austin had warmed to him a great deal. “Those people were whacked out. I was half scared it was going to have spread back here before we came back.”
“It’s getting there,” Miles retorted. “I haven’t told you the latest thing they’re trying to roll out. It’s not just rationing now; they’re saying they’re going to divide the city into zones. Like lock people down in certain areas. It’s crazy.”
“They’re what?”
“Yeah!” Miles continued, “I don’t think they’re gonna build walls or anything like you said, but people have been saying they might try.”
“Hang on a minute,” Austin stopped and turned to face Miles, the two of them now only a couple of blocks away from his apartment. “Who even are ‘they’? Who’s supposedly in charge now? I thought the whole government had shut down?”
“The cops,” Miles replied with a shrug. “That’s who I’ve seen anyway, and what I’ve heard down at the rec center. Apparently they’re all operating out of some place over in Brooklyn, I’m not sure where.”
Austin exhaled and ran his fingers through his growing beard, trying to make sense of what Miles was telling him. Despite his appearance, it was obvious the kid got around the city and had managed to take care of himself well enough since losing his family. Miles hadn’t yet told Austin the details of what happened there, just that he used to have a mom, dad and an older brother and now he was out on his own. Austin hadn’t pushed the subject when it came up, noticing immediately that Miles didn’t want to talk about it and leaving it at that. It wasn’t his place to go sticking his nose in, if the kid decided he wanted to share then that was fine, if he didn’t want to talk then it made little difference either way.
It was easy to warm to Miles as they made their way back through Queens, neither of them stopping at the wall of letters but both glancing in its direction. Austin wondered whether Miles had searched the notes for a message from his family, or left one for them. Again, he didn’t ask, but there was something about the forlorn expression on the boy’s face that told him he might have.
As they entered his apartment building, Austin felt momentarily guilty about returning to his family empty handed. Instead of bringing them food he had acquired yet another mouth to feed; it wasn’t going to be easy, but he stood by his decision, unable to just leave Miles out on the street by himself. It seemed like a fair trade off; Austin and his family weren’t much of an upgrade for Miles in terms of resources or a place of safety, but Austin figured it was more the not being alone anymore that had tempted the teenager. New York City had always been frightening when you were on your own and being alone throughout all this didn’t bear thinking about.
“Austin? Where… Oh,” Dante paused as he saw Miles standing behind his husband, tilting his head to one side in a questioning manner. “Err, who’s this?”
“I’m Miles,” the kid introduced himself before Austin could, stepping forward and holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Austin couldn’t help but smile. Now that he had gotten over his nervousness, Miles was a friendly and exuberant character. Austin figured he must have been really missing having people to talk to, hardly able to keep the boy quiet once he opened up. Dante looked at Miles for a few more seconds before nodding and holding out his hand to shake, welcoming the teenager into the apartment so Austin could close and lock the door behind him.
“I found him on the street,” Austin explained in a hushed tone. “I couldn’t just leave him out there.”
Dante looked at his husband and smiled. Even with everything that was going on and how desperate their own situation was, Austin could never resist helping out someone in need. In fact, the altruism extended past just people, Dante could hardly remember how many stray animals had been brought into their apartment over the years. Birds with broken wings, dogs who had been kicked out by their owners and left in the street. They’d never had the facilities to keep pets themselves, but Austin had always re-housed the animals or if that wasn
’t possible, at least taken them to a shelter or animal hospital.
He was a kind man and Dante couldn’t fault him for being that way, it was one of the many factors which had made him fall in love with him in the first place and he was glad to see it was still there. He stood by with a smile on his face as Austin introduced Bowie to the new arrival, Miles crouching down and talking to Bowie face to face, encouraging him to make friends with him.
That was one clear positive straight away, Dante realized. He had been worried about how what they were living through would affect Bowie later on in life. The last thing he wanted was for Bowie to be scarred by the events, shying away from strangers and never feeling comfortable around anyone but his family. As Miles interacted with him, Dante saw his little boy smiling and nodding along, proving that he wasn’t heading in that negative direction just yet. Much like Austin, Dante worried about Bowie far too much – it was one of the side effects of being an adoptive parent – when you’d done literally everything in your life to have a child, the responsibility was often overpowering to carry.
“So, he was just hanging around on the street?” Dante asked as Austin came and stood next to him again, both of them watching over their son and Miles who had already struck up a bond. Miles was flying one of Bowie’s plastic airplanes through the air, making engine and passenger noises and causing Bowie to splutter with laugher. “Did you manage to find any food or anything?”
“No,” Austin replied. “I went into this liquor store which,” Austin paused and grimaced, “is a whole other story. And then when I came out, he was just there watching me. I think he was scared at first, but now he’s come around he seems like a decent kid. I don’t know what’s happened to his family, but they’re not around anymore. I couldn’t just walk away from him.”
Wipeout | Book 5 | Foul Play Page 5
