Shelter

Damn, that was weird.

What did that chick want from me?

I had to keep peering over both shoulders. There was no doubt that I must’ve looked like an escapee to every passing drone with a short attention span, looking up from their ‘idiot For some reason, I kept feeling her eyes pinned on me and hearing her shrill, girlish voice, Waaaiiit!!

Dark clouds started to appear in the distance looking like the end of the world was among us. If it stormed tonight, there’s an unfortunate chance my squat would flood. I’d have to sleep on the street somewhere covered, which would be risky. I would be forced to sleep with one eye open throughout the night, to watch out for muggers or something much worse.

I made to it to my squat before those piercing eyes and shrieking voice could catch me. I was now safe under my bridge.

My home.

The squat I called Home was a huge dirt mound that started from the top inside of the bridge, where the street was, down to where the creek bed was underneath. There were no paved paths or dirt walkways to it. One couldn’t just stumble upon it, so either Vince or I would have to show you how to get down there. The only people in the area were college kids since it was considered to be on campus, thus they had no reason to come down there.

I sat in the makeshift chair I had made out of a broken, neon-green lawn chair and some pieces of wood I had found. Nobody ever stole it for some reason. I guess they knew if I had seen them sitting in it, Vince and I would kick their asses. Our group seldom took from one another. It was newcomers and other gangs we had to worry about.

I can’t believe I had told her my real name. Nobody had known that bit of information about myself except Vinnie, who gave me my nickname. My first day on the street, my shirt had stale coffee all over it, thanks to my mom, so he had lent me one of his worn, but not too worn shirts. It was an old Quick-Lube employee shirt. He had put an Anti-MPAA—Motion Picture Association of America—patch over ‘Lube,’ and wrote ‘I am’ above the word ‘Quick.’ Some people couldn’t get over the joke so I had to cover the ‘I am’ with the universal Nomad symbol—an ‘N’ with arrows shooting out from the two ends. I was by then considered a nomad by the group and my name was officially Quick.

However, many of the drag rats back then had hopped the train or bus and moved on and those who knew had forgotten, so only Vince knew my real name. So why did I just give it out so easily to that chick?

What was her name?

Alex?

Alex plural.

Alexis.

I gotta learn to stay away from people when I’m high.

She was cute. Though, there was something about her that got me talking and even joking with her. She had those dark eyes of sadness. I would recognize those brown eyes from anywhere. They were exactly like Heather’s sorrowful eyes. Experienced. Depressed. Have had the world shit on you kind of look. All us drag rats had it. If you didn’t, you were new and you would in about a week. Once you see the horrors of homelessness.

Now, I wanted to see her eyes again. If only to see if they were the same eyes as my lost girl. That Alexis had wanted to be shown the city for some reason, I remembered.

But why would she want a homeless, hood rat to show her? Doesn’t she know to stay away from people like me?

I could easily rob and rape her, just like old-boy had. Though, that’s not the way I roll, but she wouldn’t know that.

Two hours later, I awoke to the wind blowing immensely. All my magazines and newspapers were being tossed around, dancing with the bridge’s spirits in midair. The dirt that wasn’t covered from the bridge was black as opposed to the lightish-brown I laid on. That was my natural rain gauge. Also, whenever the creek was flowing harder than normal, I could hear it—this meant rain. If this weather kept up, I would have to find another place to squat for the night.

A few of the homeless kids would go to the shelter. That was not a plan for me, however. I would have to wait in line for hours, then have to sleep next to dumpster-diving derelicts who would stop at nothing to stab, rob, and rape me. I’ve heard too many horror stories about that place. So the shelter was out of the question.

I thought about that girl, Alexis.

Would she help me out?

I hoped so. For, if she didn’t, I would have to run to my dealer’s house. That would be another nightmare, just as worse as the shelter. My dealer has always had a thing for me. He would always ‘joke around’ telling me how sexy my ass was and how he’d like play with me from behind, then giggle like a creepy clown. He’s tried to make a pass at me several times when I was horribly dope sick. But I had fought through the sickness until I finally copped some dough.

I walked back over to the church hoping I’d see her there.

Nothing. Nobody.

Everyone was inside since it was lightly raining and looking like it was about to pour. Like a monsoon or tidal wave blocking the sun, it was dark out and humid, just about to spill down on all of the city.

There was an old tree right outside the church that covered the steps so I was protected for the time being. Nevertheless, I sat and waited for somebody I didn’t know or even know was coming or not.