by Sam Ferguson
I made my way down the street toward the nearest McDonalds. The morning manager never seemed to mind about me not having shoes so long as I made my order to go. I ordered a sausage mcmuffin with cheese. I split it with my dog, Dozer. Then we walked down to a shoe store and I found myself a pair of cheap Chuck Taylor knock offs. They weren’t perfect, but they were a whole world better than walking along the side of a busy road barefoot.
Me and Dozer finished off the day by visiting the local train yard. I found a caboose that was empty and unlocked. I went inside and took a nap on the bed there. Then, we made our way out to the pier and spent the rest of the day on the beach.
I watched families come and play in the water, young couples cuddle and kiss in the waves, and the occasional fortune hunter with his metal detector as the day passed me by.
It wasn’t much, and for the life of me I couldn’t remember all the decisions I must have made that led me to this point, but it wasn’t terrible either. I followed that routine for about two weeks before something started nagging at me.
It started as a throbbing headache. The back of my head would pound and pulse for a minute or two, and then go away. I assumed I needed more fluids. Southern California can be hot in the summer time. So, I made sure to buy extra water each day with the money I got from folks nice enough to offer me some help. Each day the headaches would get worse, lasting longer and pounding harder. Once I even lost part of my vision. That was probably the scariest thing I had ever experienced. I had reached down to pet Dozer’s head and then realized that I couldn’t see his face. It was just a blur of nothingness. I put my hand in front of my face, but could only see my wrist and the tips of my fingers.
I didn’t dare go panhandling that day. Instead, I went to the beach and stripped down to my boxers. I went into the waves and tried to relax. It must have worked, because my sight was back by the time I emerged from the water. Dozer and I fell asleep under the pier that day. I woke up to him barking on the beach and staring out at the water.
“Dozer! Knock it off!” I called out. Sleeping overnight wasn’t allowed on the beach. If he got us caught, it would mean jail for me and the pound for him.
Jail.
That sounded familiar. Had I been in jail before?
I stopped and looked down at the fingerless gloves on my hands. That’s right. I had been arrested for vagrancy before. I had been caught sleeping on a parked bus one time. That had not gone over well. K-9 units are wound fairly tight. I still had claw marks on my back from the stupid dog that had been unleashed.
“Dozer,” I called out again. “Shut it!”
A pair of headlights sparked to life, illuminating Dozer and the area around him. I froze. The red and blue lights came next. The vehicle started forward.
“Dozer! Come on!” I said as I clapped my leg with my hand.
The foolish dog wouldn’t turn away from the water.
I ran for it. I was not about to go back into jail. Dozer would survive a night in the pound. I could bail him out in the morning, but I had to get away from there.
I stumbled in the sand. It wasn’t easy running on the beach. The engine roared louder and the lights grew brighter. I knew they would catch me unless I was extremely lucky. I said a quick prayer for help.
Does god help homeless beggars who break minor laws?
Then I heard a yelp.
I turned around to see Dozer roll through the sand. He tried to get back up, but only flailed his head and tail.
“No!” I shouted. I turned back and ran toward him. He was the only friend I had in all the world. How could they have been so careless? He wouldn’t ever hurt anyone. “You sons of—”
The spotlight turned on me and blinded me. The engine roared and the vehicle shot forward, spraying sand everywhere.
“Stay there!” a voice called out over the PA system.
I stood with my hands up over my eyes. The truck was coming straight for me. At the last minute, I dodged to the side as the truck sped over the spot where I had just been standing. I heard the wheels lock up and the tires tore into the sand as the truck skidded to a halt.
They had tried to hit me too!
The passenger side door opened and someone jumped out.
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong!” I shouted as I ran for the pier.
Dozer was still whimpering helplessly on the beach, but I couldn’t get to him. One cop was chasing me on foot while the other worked the truck and turned it around.
“Don’t move!” the cop shouted.
Not likely! They had just tried to run me over. I was going to get out any way I could.
“Stop or I’ll shoot!” I heard the cop shout.
I dodged around a pillar to break line of sight and tried to catch my breath.
The cop came running up and I did the only thing my adrenaline-filled body could think to do. I jumped out and sucker-punched the prick right in the nose.
His head snapped back and he groaned as he hit the ground.
The truck was roaring toward me, but I knew I could get behind a pillar or two and try to hide.
I looked up and saw something flash out of the window. A blue streak shot out and slammed into my left side. I dropped to the ground, falling behind the pillar. Electricity coursed through my body as I convulsed.
Taser?
The truck got closer. I could hear the tires ripping up the sand and then there was a massive slam! The pillar broke out and nearly collapsed. Smoke and steam hissed around the pillar, dancing in the light from the sirens and headlights. I looked up and saw the front end of the truck wrapped around the pillar.
“Should have bought American,” I said as I pushed myself up to my feet. I walked to the side of the Toyota and saw the driver slumped over the wheel. Blood was pouring out from a gash in the cop’s forehead. I couldn’t understand it. What were these two thinking? They ran over my dog, and then tried to kill me. I wasn’t hurting anyone.
I checked the cop’s pulse and then tried to reach in for the radio. I was a fighter, but I wasn’t heartless. I tried to call in. I pressed buttons and turned the dial until I got someone on the radio.
“Officers need assistance,” I said.
“Who is this?” a surly voice grunted on the other end.
“Officers got into a wreck down under pier seven. They look hurt. Hurry!”
“Who is this? Identify yourself!” the voice shouted.
Not a chance! I had called in for help. That was all the more involved I was going to be. I ran over to Dozer. He was barely breathing. Panting in short, frantic breaths, each one ending in a whimper. There was nothing I could do for him, but I wasn’t about to leave him behind. I scooped the old lab into my arms and picked him up. I then sprinted away from the scene as fast as my cheap knock-off shoes would carry me.
It was morning by the time I stopped running. Big guys were never meant to run any distance longer than from a couch to the kitchen. My knees hurt, my shins hurt, my lungs were on fire, and my arms were all but dead from carrying Dozer. He had long since given up his last breath, but I didn’t have the heart to dump him anywhere. He deserved a proper burial. On the south side of town, there was an old mine. I had been there before. I found an old abandoned shovel and began to dig in one of the shafts.
It took a long time, but I was able to dig far enough down that I was sure nothing would bother my friend. I climbed out of the hole and then went back to Dozer. I put my hand on his head and tried to think of something fitting to say.
“I’m not real good with words,” I whispered to his lifeless body. “But, you were a good friend. Best a man could ask for.” My eyes filled with tears as the sound of his yelp came back into my mind. “I don’t know what those guys were thinking,” I said. “There ain’t much I can do about it now, but they got a little taste of what they deserved before we left. It isn’t justice, but it will have to do.”
I gently placed him down into the hole and then filled it with dirt. I didn’t leave a
marker. I knew where he was. That was enough.
I exited the mine to find a tall man wearing a checkered shirt and faded blue jeans.
We both jumped a bit upon seeing each other. The man held his hands up and eyed my shovel.
“I don’t have anything worth taking,” the man said. “I own the mine and someone said they saw someone coming in. I thought it might be teenagers skipping school and getting drunk, so I came to check is all.”
I set the shovel down. “Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would mind if I was here,” I said.
“You won’t find anything in there,” the man said. “The mine has been dry for decades. Ain’t nothing valuable in there.”
I smiled and nodded. Little did he know that there was something worth more than gold buried in the shaft now. “Sorry. Would it be all right if I left and you didn’t tell anyone I was here?” I asked. “Been having a bit of a rough time lately.”
The man nodded. “Yeah, I can see that for myself,” he said. “Tell you what. I have twenty bucks back in my truck. Would that help you out?”
I shook my head. I still had twice that left over from the last time I panhandled. “No, thanks. I have enough for now.”
“How bout a bus ticket, then?” the man said. “I have a colleague who might have work for you,” he said. “It ain’t easy work, but it pays well. Ever been to Dallas?”
I shook my head again. “No thanks,” I said. “I best be on my way.”
I started to leave, and the pounding came back into my head. This time, it sounded like drums.
CHAPTER 11
It was more than a week before I made my way back to my park bench. Worried that the cops might be able to identify me, I had tried to look for a new place, but to no avail. I couldn’t find a corner worth working with my sign. Eventually my hunger forced me to go back. For the first week back at my spot I jumped every time I saw a cop car. After that, I was able to calm my nerves a bit. The employees were happy to see me again, asked about Dozer and gave me a full day of food for free when I explained he had been run over by a truck.
I took my hamburgers back to my park bench and ate while I watched joggers and moms with strollers pass by on the track. I didn’t sleep well that night. Just kept staring up at the few stars I could see through the light pollution from the city and tried to fight the nagging feeling that there was something more I was supposed to be doing.
For the life of me I couldn’t remember what that was.
When I finally did fall asleep, the sky was already brightening. I barely got any rest at all before the sun hit my face and the pounding of drums returned to my head. I got up, fighting the stiff aches that sleeping on park benches will give a person, and made my way out to the street. To my surprise, I saw a woman with a sign already working my spot. I shrugged it off and turned to go up the street. After all, I had had a full three meals the day before, so I could stand to miss a day if this lady needed some extra cash.
I hadn’t gotten far when I heard shouting.
I turned to see a blue BMW stopped at the corner. The driver side door was open and a man was standing on the street berating the panhandler. When I looked closer, I realized it was one of the two men that scammed people for money at that spot.
I’m not sure what it was, but something inside said that the man’s time was up. I was not going to walk away while someone was in trouble.
Cars passed the arguing couple as the light at the intersection turned green. Some people honked, others pretended not to notice, but nobody stopped to help the woman.
I sped up my pace and was only about fifteen feet away when the man slapped the woman and shoved her to the ground.
No. That isn’t right.
I ran over and sucker-punched the man square in the nose before he had time to see me coming. His head jerked back and blood trickled down his face. He grunted and reached up to grab his nose, but I didn’t let up. I came in with a hard left hook that blasted his jaw and dropped him to the ground. I then reached down to help the woman.
“It’s all right, come with me,” I said.
She took my hand and then let out a gasp as she looked back toward the car.
I looked up to see the passenger side was now open and a man was coming at us, baseball bat in hand. Fear rippled through my stomach. Cars passed us by. I was amazed that no one stopped. The man was shouting a string of curse words as fast as his breath would let him. With one hand I gently pushed the woman away from me, placing myself between her and the man with the bat.
“Go,” I told her. “You need to go, now!”
The woman turned and ran, her sobs fading as she left.
The man with the bat came in hard and fast, swinging for my head. I ducked and stepped back out of the way, then, as the bat’s momentum carried his arms up and to the side, I came in for the opening. Two quick shots to his exposed ribs. The man flinched, but answered my attack with a head-butt. I shook it off and managed to get my arm up just in time to stop the second swing of the bat. My forearm was going to be extremely sore, but at least my skull wasn’t smashed in. I brought a knee up to the man’s gut, but it had little effect. We pushed back and forth for a couple seconds, and then I managed to wrestle the bat free from the man. The man threw his hands up defensively and cowered away from me.
“Get outta here, and take this puke with you,” I ordered as I pointed to the unconscious man that had assaulted the woman. The man nodded, so I turned and tossed the bat toward the park.
I was about to turn and offer one final parting shot at the thug, but something hot and heavy punched me in the gut. Blinding, searing pain ripped through my body and my legs went weak. I fell to my butt and looked up to see the man towering over me, gun in hand. I saw a bright flash and heard a loud, thunderous boom. I heard some frantic shouting, followed by screeching tires and a roaring engine. I dropped down to my side and tried to breathe. Something about the flash of the muzzle seemed familiar. The bright light opening up before my eyes. Had I seen something like that once before? Everything went black after that.
When my eyes opened next, there were bright lights above me. Dark greenish-blue figures were moving around me. I could hear voices, but didn’t understand what they were saying. My lips were numb and my mouth wouldn’t move when I tried to call out for help. A flash of pain made me squirm, and then something clamped down on my face and the darkness returned.
It was the beeping that woke me after that. It took a few minutes to cut through the drug induced haze and realize I was in a hospital. I was in a shared room. The other three men were either asleep or unconscious. I tried to reach for the remote on the side of my bed, but my stomach hurt too much to twist. I looked down and saw blood seeping through a thick layer of gauze. I tried twice more to grab the remote, and then I gave up and laid back, letting sleep take me.
The next thing I knew, I was in a house in the middle of a forest. I was in my room, filled with fantasy novels, an old super Nintendo, and a playstation. I heard someone scream. I walked out from my room and saw the house was empty, but the front door was open.
I walked outside. The sun was shining bright, but there were no birds singing in the trees around the house. There were no squirrels. Nothing. Not even a breeze. Everything was still. I exited the house and walked around to the back. My movements were slowed, as if stuck in some sort of unseen pool that held every motion back. Another scream filled the air, the panicked sound of a young woman terrified. Not just any young woman, but my baby sister. I had to find her. I stormed into the woods, doing my best to run, but held back by the heavy air around me. I wound my way through the trees. I saw a figure in black robes flash through the trees. He was terribly fast, and he was chasing my sister.
The only good news was that he hadn’t seen me yet. I was slow, but I had the element of surprise.
I moved through the trees as quietly as I could. I rounded a grove of aspens and then a large pine tree. The figure nearly ran into me. His face was covered
by a mask, a white one just like the one worn in the movie Scream. In his hand he held a long chef knife. He tilted his head to look at me, as if he hadn’t expected to find me in the forest. Suddenly the realization came to me that I was also holding a chef knife. Knowing that he was hunting my sister, I plunged my knife into his chest. The blade ripped and tore through the flesh and sinew, slipping between the ribs and puncturing the tender organs deep within. The masked man let out a hiss, like air escaping a tire, and then collapsed to the ground.
I turned around triumphantly, calling out to my sister and telling her it was all right.
Then I remembered that I didn’t have a sister. I had been an only child.
My face began to itch, so I reached up to scratch it and found something hard over my skin. I pulled at it, only to find that I had been wearing a mask identical to the one worn by the strange figure in black robes. I then felt a pain in my stomach and looked down.
A bloody chef knife was protruding from my stomach, just a few inches left of my navel.
I woke with a start as pain ripped through my abdomen.
“Easy now, we’re just changing your bandages,” a young nurse said as she pulled at the gauze on my bullet wound.
A male nurse moved in and forced me back down to the bed. “Try to relax buddy,” he said.
I passed out again before they finished.
I woke once again sometime after the sun had gone down. A tray of food sat at the side of my bed, only everything had been eaten, except for the salad.
I scanned the room and found a man sitting in a chair next to my bed, drinking chocolate milk from a container that was surely supposed to have been on my tray.
