by Jamie Canosa
Maybe it was the way she stared wide eyed at everything around her that told him she didn’t belong here, or the backpack stuffed to the brim that announced she was here to stay awhile. Either way, she was a walking billboard for trouble, practically wearing a blinking neon sign that said ‘notice me’. Never a good thing here. She wasn’t going to last long if she kept up the doe-eyed routine.
Abandoning his pursuit of a morning cup of joe, he started to follow her, not really sure why. If she was stupid enough to get herself into trouble, what concern was it of his? But he couldn’t help himself. Something inside him needed to warn her, keep her safe from the dangers she would never even see coming but he could already sense. Maybe if he could just scare her off, she would run home like all the others and save herself from anything worse than him.
He was pushing his way through the dense crowd, still trying to figure out the best way to do just that when he noticed another body making the same approach from the corner of his eye. Herc. Crap.
The girl paused to scan a display of maps. Could she make it any more obvious? And she’d made the biggest idiot mistake of all. She’d dropped her bag on the table beside her. Never, ever let go of anything you don’t want to lose. That was practically kindergarten knowledge around here. This girl was definitely out of her league.
Herc was one of the biggest guys imaginable. No one knew his real name, but everyone just referred to him as Hercules, or Herc. He never talked, as far as Jay knew, but no one ever gave him any trouble for it, or stood between him and what he wanted. That would just be suicide. The guy was definitely on some kind of steroids.
He swooped in on the girl faster than anyone his size should have the right to move through a cramped space and, in the blink of an eye, her bag—and everything in it—was gone. Herc never paused, just kept moving through the crowd back toward Jay. It took the girl a moment to realize what had happened and then she started frantically scanning the crowd, those wide eyes practically bugging out of her head. Jay felt bad for her, he really did, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. It was already too late.
She must have caught sight of her bag because all of a sudden she started pushing her way through the crowd towards where Herc had disappeared. She was seriously going to chase him? This girl was dumber than she looked. She pushed and shoved and squeezed her way past men and women in business suits and skirts. Jay couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She must have some kind of death wish.
Without thinking, Jay stepped into her path as she tried to shove past. Not even bothering to glance in his direction, she attempted to sidestep him, but he put himself in her way again, refusing to let her pass. Again she tried to move, and again he moved with her. Finally, she looked up at him. Her eyes were like a summer sky and roiling with emotion, half desperate-half angry.
“What are you doing?” she cried.
“What are you doing?”
“He took my bag!”
“And what do you plan on doing about it?”
“I have to catch him!”
“And what are you going to do if you do catch him? Hear me when I tell you that he will kill you for whatever’s in that bag. Is it really worth your life?”
“It’s everything.” She seemed to deflate with her declaration, resigning herself to the truth. Whatever it was, it was gone now. “It’s everything I have.”
He felt for her. It hadn’t been so long that he couldn’t remember what it was like at first, but this girl was in way too deep. She shouldn’t be here. She had no business here. She was only going to be trouble with a capital T. And making any of this easier for her would only encourage her to stay. What she needed to do was learn her lesson, get back on whatever train brought her here in the first place, and go home.
“Well, that’ll teach ya to be so careless with your stuff.”
With that, he turned his back on her and left her standing there in the bustling crowd with nothing more than the clothes on her back and the tears beginning to pool in her eyes. No way she’d stick around now. Even knowing he was doing it for her own good, though, he couldn’t help feeling like a douche.
Chapter Three
Emerson
Gone. It was gone. All of it. Everything. Just gone. And so was the boy who had let the thief get away. Emerson was alone and terrified. A useless coward. How had she let this happen? How had she been so stupid? Now what was she supposed to do?
All of these thoughts pounded around inside her brain as waves of people continued to wash past her, oblivious of her turmoil. It wasn’t just a matter of things she lost. It was a matter of survival. The stuff she’d packed in that bag had been her only chance at surviving this place. Now how was she going to make it out here on her own? The thought was scary enough before, but now? Now it had her frozen in place, unable to even contemplate taking her next step.
Emerson shook her head tightly. Panicking wouldn’t help. She couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Not here. She was wasting time—killing daylight—and there was only so much of it left. Her circumstances may have changed, but the plan was still the same. The first step was to find a place to spend the night. The rest she could worry about tomorrow.
It was going to happen eventually. At least that’s what she kept telling herself as she pushed her way towards the station exit. The supplies in that bag wouldn’t have lasted forever. It was just sooner than she’d expected. She was going to have to step up her game. Really prove to herself that she could do this. There wasn’t any other choice in the matter.
Outside, things started looking up. And so did Emerson. The buildings were immense, disappearing into the cloud cover. The pictures she’d seen of this place hadn’t done it justice. This view alone was awe inspiring and she’d barely set foot outside of the station. She just stood there, letting the sights, and sounds, and smells wash over her. Bathe her in her new surroundings. Her new home. This was it. This place was her freedom, her reprieve, her sanity. She would make it here and everything would be better, she just knew it.
Then, reality came crashing down with one inquiry from a little boy standing with the family gathered behind her. “Which way?”
Good freaking question.
The group—a woman and three children—was rounded up by an older male and marched west along the sidewalk. At least someone seemed to have a destination in mind. She sure didn’t. Choosing a direction at random, Emerson moved east away from the station. Mostly so that she wouldn’t be tempted to keep following that family.
It was incredible. All of it. The streets, the buildings, the people. All moving a mile a minute, never slowing down, never questioning their progress. Just going, going, going. Emerson wished she had that kind of direction in her life, but confidence had never been something she’d had in spades. He’d made sure of that.
Dusk was settling over the city and one thing she was sure of was that she didn’t want to be out on the streets when night fell. She could only imagine the types of people the darkness would bring out to play. Walking endlessly, she chose streets and directions largely at random. Gradually, the enormous buildings and jam-packed sidewalks started to fade away, revealing smaller shops in neglected neighborhoods.
The crowds had given Emerson a sense of security she’d been loathed to leave behind, but there were men in uniforms everywhere, guarding doors and blocking entranceways. She still looked put together enough to get inside—unlike some others she’d seen turned away—but there wasn’t a chance in hell any of them would be letting her spend the night. No, if she was going to find a place to crash it would have to be away from the well-guarded hub of the city center.
As the sun sank below the buildings, long shadows stretched out across the pavement like skeletal fingers reaching out for her. At the end of the block, a group of about ten girls loitered in short skirts and shirts too tiny for the rapidly cooling temperatures. A guy with a leather coat and slicked-back hair leaned up against a brick wall chatting with a couple of them.<
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As Emerson drew cautiously nearer, the chat seemed to escalate into something more like an argument and she drew to a stop. Without warning, the grease ball shoved one of the girls violently into the wall and then hit the other so hard she fell to the sidewalk when she tried to intervene. Emerson’s pulse pounded in her ears as she scanned the streets for anyone who might step in, but no one else seemed to even notice what was happening.
The grease ball just watched while the second girl peeled herself back up off the concrete and the first adjusted her top. When they were both situated again, the two of them moved to the corner to join the others. Grease-ball struck up a conversation with another girl and that seemed to be the end of it.
Emerson was stunned by everyone’s easy acceptance of his abuse, but she wasn’t about to be the one to say something and risk putting herself on the receiving end of his next flying fist. Instead, she turned around and headed back in the opposite direction like the useless coward she was.
It was almost full dark when she found herself in a park, thinking that maybe she could get a little rest on a bench somewhere. Just inside the gate, however, she ran into a group of teens about her age—a girl and two guys—but it wasn’t their gender, or even their age that attracted her attention. It was what they were wearing.
The guys both sported torn jeans and stained t-shirts even though it was starting to become a bit too chilly for that. One of them even wore a studded collar and several spiked leather bracelets. The girl also wore jeans and a t-shirt, all of which were way too large for her thin frame. At least she had on a jacket. A large tear ripped up the back of it and white fluff poked out like an early snowfall, but she didn’t seem to mind.
A shiver rippled through Emerson. With the failing daylight, she was becoming cold herself even with her heavy sweater and t-shirt underneath. For a moment, she thought about putting her coat on, before remembering that she had stuffed it in her bag. The one that was now ancient history. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she tried to get closer to the group as inconspicuously as possible. The last thing she wanted was to start trouble—especially with dog collar boy—but if anyone would know of a good place for her to spend the night, it would probably be them.
“We can’t go there,” the girl argued, her golden blonde braid flicking across her back as she shook her head. “You know they raid that place.”
“No, I’m telling you, not tonight.” For someone rocking that much leather and scary jewelry, his voice was rather high pitched and whiny when he spoke. “The place was under renovation, but they ran out of funds. No one’s gonna be there. It’s gonna be the perfect crash pad for the next couple months, at least.”
“I don’t know. You remember what happened the last time we followed one of your hair-brained ideas?”
“It’s not like we’ve got any better options.” The second guy draped an arm over the girl’s shoulders. “The old place is out, you know that, Al. Can you think of anywhere better to go?”
She shrugged off his arm before admitting defeat. The decision seemed to have been made, and that decided it for Emerson as well. Wherever this place was, if it was good enough for them, it was good enough for her.
She did her best to be discreet, but she was hardly James Bond. If they had bothered to pay her any attention whatsoever, it would have been painfully clear that she was following them like some kind of creepy stalker. They didn’t, however, seem to notice or care about her presence.
As they entered a warehouse district, large, windowless, concrete buildings lined both sides of the street. They passed by several before finally pausing outside of one that looked—to Emerson, at least—exactly like every other one. It was going to take her some time to figure this place out.
“You sure, man?” Al’s anxious voice resonated with the swarm of butterflies doing loop-de-loops inside Emerson’s gut. What if she was crashing some kind of private party? What if everyone out here had the same quick temper and violent tendencies as Grease-ball on the corner?
“Yeah, trust me. It’ll be fine. Let’s go.”
Without further argument, they followed dog collar boy across the street and through a rusted metal door hanging open on the side of the building, leaving Emerson standing alone on the sidewalk. This was it. She’d come this far, there really wasn’t any point in turning back now. And it wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go. Night had arrived and it was time to take a chance.
The rusted door squealed in protest as she wrenched it open. Emerson recoiled at the blatant announcement of her arrival, but few faces turned her way. Those that did quickly lost interest once they determined she had nothing of interest. Easy to do since she had nothing at all.
The warehouse floor was littered with people—some clustered in small groups, others alone like herself. They had all laid out blankets, towels, even newspaper, claiming most of the floor space. The only available space left was near the large bay doors at the front of the building.
Emerson didn’t have anything to make a bed out of, but she was more than willing to sleep on a concrete floor as long as she could sleep. It had been a long, strenuous day, both physically and mentally, and she was beyond ready to crash. She would live and learn. Tomorrow maybe she would collect some supplies from somewhere before returning. According to dog collar boy, this should be a decent place to crash for the next couple of months. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad here, after all.
Easing into her newfound confidence, Emerson settled into an open area beside the bay doors. It didn’t take long to figure out why everyone else had avoided them. While the doors were closed and locked, there was still a brutal draft blowing underneath them. It whipped in and wrapped around her as she stretched out on the freezing, hard floor. She didn’t care. She refused to let things like a little cold wind and the lack of a mattress bother her. She’d made her decision, and now she had to live with it. No matter what that meant.
***
Emerson woke with a jolt, unsure of what it was that had caused the sudden and unwelcome onslaught of consciousness. She groggily glanced around the warehouse, but everything was quiet. Soft breathing broken up by the occasional snore and joined by the rumble of thunder from above were the only sounds, but something felt . . . off.
She sat up looking around for what it was making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It was difficult to see in the intermittent light, but still she searched. Then it hit her. It wasn’t anything in the light, it was the light. Not the steady glow of a street light, or even the brief flashes of lightening, this light was sweeping rhythmically across the room in a circular motion, and it was red and blue. Over the deluge of rain slapping against the concrete on the other side of the bay doors, Emerson could barely make out the sound of voices and radio static.
No! No, no, no. The police were there and she was most definitely breaking and entering, loitering, and probably about a dozen other illegal things. If they caught her here it was over. They’d figure out who she was, and they’d send her home . . . to him.
She briefly toyed with the idea of sending up an alarm, alerting the others and joining a race for the closest exit, but she quickly swept it aside along with her guilt. If she was going to make it out of there, it had to be quietly.
The soles of her boots creaked slightly against the concrete floor as she picked her way along the wall, but she didn’t dare take them off in case she needed to make a run for it. Stepping over and around dozens of prone bodies, she made her way toward the back of the building. She had no idea where she was headed, but with the police out front, it seemed like the best direction to go.
The rear wall had a partial second level that looked like raised offices. The darkened windows were a tempting hiding spot, but if the police checked that far into the building, she’d be trapped. No. Getting out was the only option. There had to be another door. Somewhere.
The further she got from the windows, the darker it got. Sleeping bodies turned into darkened lum
ps. Using the wall as her guide, Em slid her hands along the roughened concrete surface and shuffled along. Tiny steps to avoid— Ah, crap! To avoid exactly that.
Em gasped as her feet caught on something, bringing her down to her knees. Silently cursing her clumsiness, she worked to untangle her feet. It was a sleeping bag she’d tripped over. And inside . . .
“Mmm. Watch it.” The girl from earlier—Al—rolled over in her sleep.
Emerson couldn’t believe it. This girl had literally been put right in her path. How could she ignore that? With a quick glance to the front of the building to be sure the raid hadn’t begun yet, she shook her awake.
Al shot up so fast—fists flying—that Emerson stumbled backward.
“Hey. Shh. Relax.” Apparently, Al had a serious aversion to being woken up.
“What the hell?”
“The police are here.” Emerson kept her voice low.
“What?” Al scrubbed at her face, dragging herself the rest of the way back to consciousness.
“The police. They’re outside.”
“Shit. Goddammit, I knew this would happen.” Al started rolling up her sleeping bag, suddenly wide awake.
“Should we wake the others?”
“There isn’t time. We gotta go. Now.”
“What about them?” Emerson gestured to dog collar boy and the other boy from earlier still sleeping soundly on the floor beside them.
“They got me into this mess in the first place. Let’s go.”
Al scooped up her bag and started to the left before drawing up short.
“Dammit all to hell.” She turned around and with a swift kick, connected with both boys.
“What the fuck?” One rolled over to glare at her, while the other only groaned. She’d hit dog collar boy a bit lower than the other.
