A Long Way Down
By Edward Kendrick
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2020 Edward Kendrick
ISBN 9781646562619
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
For all those who asked for more of the ghostie boys.
* * * *
A Long Way Down
By Edward Kendrick
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 1
Despite the late hour the heat was still stifling, causing sweat to run down Daw’s face and soak into his shirt so that it clung to his body like a second skin. It brought back memories of the night, almost ten years ago, when he’d fled home in fear of his life. The ache in his left wrist added another reminder of what had happened as he started up the fire escape to the roof, hoping to find at least a bit of a breeze. He pushed the thoughts away, concentrating on making it to the top without anyone being aware of what he was doing.
“Don’t look up,” he whispered when he saw a man, obviously homeless, come into the alley. He froze, one foot on the next step, watching. The man shuffled along, finally seeing a darkened doorway he must have thought was safe enough to crash for the night. Daw knew it was. He’d been there moments before, until the heat drove him to look for somewhere cooler—if possible.
When he was on the roof, he turned slowly, checking to see if anyone else was up there. He spotted movement at the far end. In the pale light from the moon, he made out the figure of a girl he thought he recognized, looking up at the edge of the next roof a few feet above her.
“Need a boost?” Daw asked, strolling toward her.
She spun around, her hands raised defensively. Then she said, “Damn, you scared the shit out of me, Daw.”
“Sorry, Jamie. The question still stands. Need a boost?” Since Jamie was a good six inches shorter than Daw’s five eleven, it was a logical assumption.
“Yeah, if you would. I figure it’s gotta be cooler up there.” She tossed her backpack up and it thumped when it landed.
“Let’s hope.” Daw put his pack down, linked his hands together, the good one gripping his weaker wrist. “Step up, but make it fast.”
Jamie did as he said, grabbed the edge of the roof, and pulled herself over the edge. Then, lying on her stomach, she said, “Hand me your pack.”
Daw nodded, did, and then with a running start, jumped up to catch hold of the roof’s edge, and was on it seconds later.
“You okay?” Jamie asked, glancing at Daw’s left arm.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Daw told her as he bent to snag his backpack, which kept Jamie from seeing the pain etched on his face. “Not much cooler up here, but at least there’s a bit of a breeze.”
They moved to the parapet at the front edge of the roof and sat, leaning back against it.
“How’s things?” Jamie asked.
“How do you think?” Daw replied. “I’m here, I’m alive, so I guess it could be worse. Could be a hell of a lot better, too, but that ain’t happening.”
“Yeah, know what you mean. Guess there’s one thing to be thankful for. It ain’t snowing.”
“Right now, I almost wish it was.” Daw was tempted to take his shirt off, but didn’t, in deference to Jamie who, he knew, was leery of men to begin with. That she accepted his friendship still surprised him given her background, so he made it a point to tread carefully around her.
Instead he wiped his face with the shirtsleeve. “I sweat any more I’m gonna be like that witch in that movie.”
Jamie laughed. “I think she melted ‘cause Dorothy dumped water on her.”
“Sounds good to me right now. The water, I mean.” Daw turned to peer over the parapet. “It’s so damned hot people are staying in where there’s AC.”
“Yeah. Makes panhandling bad. When do we get a break?”
Daw snorted. “Never? At least not for guys like us.”
“Tell me ‘bout it.” They sat in silence for a moment, then Jamie said, “You hear ‘bout Wink?”
“Nope.” Daw shook his head. “To be honest, I haven’t seen him in a while and that’s fine with me.”
“Won’t be seeing him again, either. He took a dive off a roof.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah. Only rumor has it he didn’t do it on purpose. And he’s at least the second guy in the last month it happened to.”
Daw slanted a look at her. “No shit?” He frowned when what Jamie said sank in. “Like someone pushed them off?”
“Maybe? I hit up the soup kitchen at that church downtown, umm, two nights ago, to get something to eat.” Jamie chuckled. “Had to listen to a sermon before they fed us but…” She shrugged. “Anyway, some guys were talking ‘bout it. Saying maybe it wasn’t safe to crash on roofs anymore. Least not alone.”
“Then we’re good.” Daw pointed to Jamie and himself. “Guess you didn’t believe it, though, since you were up here on your lonesome before I showed up.”
Jamie smiled bleakly. “Hot as it is, I figured it was worth the risk. ‘Specially with the smell down there from the Dumpsters.”
Daw had to agree with that. They reeked so bad he’d given up Dumpster diving. It meant he had to figure out other ways to get something to eat—like on his knees in a secluded area of one of the local parks, where johns knew they could get a quick, cheap blowjob. Even after all of his years being homeless, he still hated doing that. But like Jamie said, sitting on the sidewalk with a cup, hoping someone would donate some spare change, wasn’t happening right now. “This heat wave better break soon,” he grumbled.
“Um-hmm.” Jamie yawned as she settled on her stomach with her pack under her head. “Might see if I can sleep.”
“Me, too.” Daw stretched out on his back, using his pack as a pillow, staring up at the dark sky. It took him a while to fall asleep as his thoughts went back to what Jamie had told him. He listened for any signs someone else was on one of the roofs. The only sounds he heard came from the occasional car or truck passing on the street below them. Eventually, he fell into a restless slumber plagued by nightmares of being pushed off the roof, mixed with ones of his last day at home. Those would never leave him alone for long, but he’d learned to deal with them, as he had with everything else in his life since he’d become homeless.
* * * *
There was no sign that the heat wave would
break anytime soon, at least according to a story in a discarded newspaper Daw retrieved from a trash container outside a convenience store two days after he’d run into Jamie.
He’d spent the daylight hours seated in the shade in front of one restaurant or another along a street where he often panhandled, his cup between his feet as he read a paperback thriller he’d boosted from a table in front of a used book store. Once the sun went down, he’d moved to a park where it was minimally cooler, hoping to hook up with a john looking for a blowjob. He got lucky, once, and spent the money the guy had paid him on a burger and fries at an all-night diner, relishing the cold from the AC almost more than the food and the chance to use the restroom to clean up and brush his teeth.
He decided it was time to hit up a shelter for another hygiene kit. A necessity since he only had one condom left, and the small tube of toothpaste that came with the kits was almost empty. In general he had no use for shelters. He didn’t own much but what he had was his and he didn’t intend on losing it to some punk who decided to walk off with his pack while he slept. That, and the bugs and diseases rampant in some of them meant he’d rather take his chances sleeping rough.
The only advantage of the one he headed to the following morning was that it had a walk-in clinic. The nurses who ran it accepted the fact that a lot of homeless guys had no other recourse than selling themselves to keep body and soul together, so they handed out the kits and condoms without questions or lectures.
While he waited his turn in line, Daw listened to what the other men were saying. Mostly it was pissing and moaning about the weather, which didn’t surprise him. Then he overheard two guys talking about another man who had apparently jumped off the roof of a building about a mile from the downtown area of the city.
“Jumped or was pushed,” one of them said.
“Yeah, I hear you,” the other guy replied. “Not that the cops give a damn, even if it was the third one this month. They figure the less of us the better, and I bet they’re writing it off as a suicide or to the dude being drunk or high and stupid.”
“No shit.”
Daw frowned, wondering if he knew who it was. Not that he had many friends on the streets, but he’d been around long enough to know names, if nothing more. He’d known Wink—and had decided he didn’t like him. The feeling was mutual. Still, that’s a hell of a way to die. And if you didn’t, you’d probably be handicapped for the rest of your life. If I decided to kill myself, sure wouldn’t take that route.
As horrible as his life had been since escaping the terror of his final night at home, he had never once considered killing himself. It’s not me. Someday things will get better, I hope. I won’t find out if I’m lying in some unmarked grave.
He walked out of the shelter with two kits, thanks to a nurse who took one look at him and said, not unkindly, “I’ve got the feeling you’ll need them if you’re going to make enough to put some meat on your bones.”
She had a point and Daw knew it. He’d never been a heavyweight, but now he was more scarecrow than lion, to hark back to Jamie’s reference to that old movie. At least I’ve got more brains than the scarecrow.
That evening, he got lucky again—If I can call it that. Two johns approached him, guys he’d dealt with before so they knew the routine and what it would cost them. With money in his pocket, he went back to the diner, had a real meal—meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and corn, with a soda—and still had some cash left. He stuck it under the insole of his well-worn tennis shoes, and then decided to return to the rooftop he and Jamie had used a few days previously. He didn’t expect to find her there, so he wasn’t disappointed when he clambered up the fire escape and found he was the only one around. He was a bit surprised about that, however. On a normal night there would have been at least a couple more homeless guys, or women, staking their claim to a section of the roof.
“On the other hand,” he said under his breath, “this is the first time I’ve been on one since Jamie told me about guys who’d fallen or were pushed to their deaths. Over-cautious, maybe, but why take a chance?”
He went onto the higher roof, savoring the thin breeze that had sprung up. He knew it wouldn’t last for long but he’d take what he could get. Crossing to the parapet, he dropped his pack beside it, knelt, and leaned over, looking at the street several stories below. It was late enough that there was minimal traffic and the only people he saw were a group of four men wearing dark blue slacks and shirts. Daw figured they were janitors, heading home from cleaning one of the buildings below him.
He was tired, probably because he’d had a full meal for the first time in forever. Turning away from the view, he took a short metal bar from his pack then laid down, using the pack as a pillow after he’d put the bar under it where he could reach it instantly in case of trouble. Closing his eyes, he fell into a fitful sleep.
Then, he didn’t know how much later, he felt a hand covering his mouth right before he was pulled to his feet. All he could think of was how he’d been dragged from what he’d thought was a safe hiding place, the second night after ending up on the streets, and like then, he fought back. Whoever had him released their hold and he dropped to one knee, scrabbling under his pack for the bar.
“Looking for this?” The man’s voice was cold and angry as he pulled Daw up again. Then, he swung the bar. It hit Daw across the side of his head, dazing him. The next thing he knew he was flying, headed straight to the pavement several stories below.
Chapter 2
I survived? Daw shook his head in disbelief. He saw the street, looked up, and saw the edge of the roof where he’d been seconds before, and then looked down again. In front of him was a body, bloody, broken, the arms and legs bent at impossible angles—and he knew in that instant that he hadn’t survived.
“What the fuck? No way.” He held up his hand, and he could see through it. “It can’t be. I don’t believe in…in ghosts?”
Then he realized someone was screaming. A woman, obviously homeless from the look of her, in the alley across the street. He heard footsteps racing toward him, saw a man with a phone pressed to his ear. “Yeah, he fell from the roof,” the man was saying. “No. No way is he alive. Yes, sir, I’ll wait until the cops get here.” He pocketed the phone and took off running.
“Scared they’ll blame you?” Daw spat out, even though he knew no one would hear him, even if anyone was around other than the screaming woman.
Slowly he began to assimilate the fact that he must be a ghost. He took a couple of steps back, away from his body. He meant to lean against the door behind him to wait until the cops arrived. It didn’t happen. He went through it, ending up inside a shop filled with women’s clothing.
If that doesn’t prove I’m dead, nothing will. Now what? I’m stuck here forever unless they find my killer? Lots of luck. They’ll put it down to…to suicide or a fatal accident, like with the others.
He reached for the door handle, wanting, needing to be back outside when the cops showed up. Two things happened at almost the same time. First, he found he couldn’t grip the handle, even though he used both hands. They went right through it. Second, he discovered his wrist didn’t hurt. He rotated it to be certain. One perk to being a ghost, if that’s what I am?
It took a second to put two and two together. I moved through the door to end up in here. I should be able to leave the same way. He did, returning to the sidewalk just as a squad car and an ambulance came screaming around the corner, pulling up to the curb next to his body.
Men piled out of both of them, the EMTs hurrying to examine the remains.
“Dead as a doornail,” the male EMT stated, as if it wouldn’t be obvious if he hadn’t pointed it out.
“Looks like he must have fallen from up there,” one of the cops said, pointing.
“What was your first clue?” Daw muttered, not expecting a reply. He didn’t get one.
“My bet is, at this hour, no one saw it happen,” the cop continued. “The guy who called it in
probably saw the body and did his civic duty before taking off.”
“A homeless lady over there might have,” Daw said, even though he knew they wouldn’t hear him. Besides which, she was long gone from what he could tell.
By then, the EMTs were putting his body onto a stretcher, which they shoved into the back of the ambulance. “We’ll drop this off at the morgue,” one of them told the cops.
Daw wanted to shout, “It’s not a ‘this.’ It’s me. I was alive until…until…” He didn’t. Why bother? He watched the ambulance pull away. The cops spent a few minutes checking the area and taking notes, probably to file some sort of report on the death of another homeless person, Daw figured.
One of them did go up to the roof, returning a couple of minutes later to tell his partner there was nothing that indicated if the ‘the victim’ had jumped or fell accidentally. “Probably an accident,” he said. “Had too much to drink, although there’s no bottle, or was drugged up.”
“I don’t drink, and I wasn’t on drugs. I was thrown off, you idiot,” Daw said angrily, but of course they didn’t hear him. Moments later, they returned to their squad car and drove away.
Now what do I do? Hang around here until the cows come home because I’m stuck where I died? I’ll die again, from heatstroke. Or not. He realized, along with no pain, he didn’t feel hot, and he wasn’t sweating. That didn’t solve his problem, however. He sank to the pavement beside the store, thankful that he didn’t go through it, although he wasn’t about to lean back and end up inside the store again.
I wonder what the chances are of getting back on the roof. My stuff is still up there. Okay, it should be, if the guy who threw me off didn’t steal it. Not that it’ll do me any good. If I can’t open a door, for damned sure I can’t pick up my backpack. Still…
He got up, walked around the corner to the alley, and down to the fire escape. Getting onto the first step meant jumping to catch it as it was above arm’s reach. He’d done it more often than he liked to think about. “Here goes nothing,” he said under his breath, bent his knees, leapt—and ended up halfway up the first section. “Shit! Are you kidding?” He expected to go through the step, and didn’t, which was a relief. Staring up, he thought about making it to the next level and seconds later he was there. “In for a penny, as someone said.” Squinting at the edge of the roof, he willed himself up and found himself floating a few inches above it. He sank down until his feet were on the roof.
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