sat beside Lila and began loosening the cords of twine still biting into his ankles, plucking them away one by one and dropping them to the floor. After doing the same with each of his wrists, he bent over and rubbed a hand across the deep indentation above his right ankle.
Scott said, “What happened here?”
“I was out hunting for food and I ran into the midget. He said he had plenty… he seemed nice enough. Next thing I know I’m tied to the bed and he’s beating me like there’s no tomorrow.”
“So you don’t live here?”
“Nobody lives anywhere anymore, not people like me, anyway. You roam around and try to keep from getting got, and hope you can make it another day.”
“Where’re your parents?” Lila asked him.
“Gone.”
“Gone where?” Scott said.
“Just gone. I came home one day and nobody was there. Nobody ever showed up.” The kid started to rub his other ankle, and Lila asked his name.
“Davey.”
“How old are you, Davey?”
“Fourteen.” He leaned forward and grabbed a faded, light blue t-shirt off the floor, pulled it over his head and down over his chest. On the front was a cartoon rooster riding a skateboard across the side of a high-rise building, holding a disproportionately large hand high above his head. His blown-back cheeks rippled like flags in a windstorm while a pair of fingers extending from each end of his white-gloved fist pointed toward a billboard sign. Faded multicolored letters adorning the sign spelled out Go For It!
Davey turned to Lila, and said, “I gotta have something to drink.”
“No shit,” said Scott, his stomach growling as the thought of food and drink drifted over him like a slowly settling mist.
Lila sheathed her knife and returned it to her pack. Then she stood up and the three of them made their way across the hall and into the bedroom. Scott propped the shotgun against the bed, and fell down on his knees in front of a gallon jug of water like a lost soul at the Holy Altar of God himself, and when that lukewarm water slid down his throat, it feltlike a religious experience of the highest order.
“God, I’m so hungry,” he said, and then guzzled another mouthful of water.
Davey, who had taken a seat at the foot of the bed, snatched a can opener off the floor. “Pick yer poison,” he said, waving a hand at the jumbled mess littering the bedroom floor.
“Beef stew. Beef fucking stew,” Scott said, his voice full of whimsy as he shook his head at a measly can of stew, that not so long ago would’ve looked like dog food, yet now seemed like manna dropped straight down from Heaven. “God damn, I’m hungry!”
“How about you…?” Davey said. “You never told me your name.”
“Lila, and that’s Scott. And I’ll just have some Spam.” She laughed. “Boy,” she said. “Never thought I’d hear myself say that! ”
“I never thought a lot of stuff,” Davey said as he fastened the rusty old utensil onto the narrow edge of Scott’s beef stew and began twisting the handle. “Never thought I’d never see my parents again, or my brothers and sisters or any of my friends. Never thought I’d be scavenging around dumpsters to keep myself from starving, or sleeping under houses or run into somebody roasting somebody else over a flaming pit, much less eating—”
“My God,” said Lila. “I’m so sorry you had to see something like that.” She stroked a hand across his head, and Davey pulled away. He handed over Scott’s meal, staring out at the billowing curtains as if he were watching past misfortunes play out through the side window. “Saw that and a whole lot more.”
Scott watched Davey pick up a container of Spam and go about the business of opening it. He really felt for the kid, and felt a certain kinship to him. Davey, a lost and lonely boy who may never see his family again, was not much different than Scott, who at that moment was just as lost and lonely as anyone anywhere on the face of this godforsaken
Scott said, “What happened here?”
“I was out hunting for food and I ran into the midget. He said he had plenty… he seemed nice enough. Next thing I know I’m tied to the bed and he’s beating me like there’s no tomorrow.”
“So you don’t live here?”
“Nobody lives anywhere anymore, not people like me, anyway. You roam around and try to keep from getting got, and hope you can make it another day.”
“Where’re your parents?” Lila asked him.
“Gone.”
“Gone where?” Scott said.
“Just gone. I came home one day and nobody was there. Nobody ever showed up.” The kid started to rub his other ankle, and Lila asked his name.
“Davey.”
“How old are you, Davey?”
“Fourteen.” He leaned forward and grabbed a faded, light blue t-shirt off the floor, pulled it over his head and down over his chest. On the front was a cartoon rooster riding a skateboard across the side of a high-rise building, holding a disproportionately large hand high above his head. His blown-back cheeks rippled like flags in a windstorm while a pair of fingers extending from each end of his white-gloved fist pointed toward a billboard sign. Faded multicolored letters adorning the sign spelled out Go For It!
Davey turned to Lila, and said, “I gotta have something to drink.”
“No shit,” said Scott, his stomach growling as the thought of food and drink drifted over him like a slowly settling mist.
Lila sheathed her knife and returned it to her pack. Then she stood up and the three of them made their way across the hall and into the bedroom. Scott propped the shotgun against the bed, and fell down on his knees in front of a gallon jug of water like a lost soul at the Holy Altar of God himself, and when that lukewarm water slid down his throat, it feltlike a religious experience of the highest order.
“God, I’m so hungry,” he said, and then guzzled another mouthful of water.
Davey, who had taken a seat at the foot of the bed, snatched a can opener off the floor. “Pick yer poison,” he said, waving a hand at the jumbled mess littering the bedroom floor.
“Beef stew. Beef fucking stew,” Scott said, his voice full of whimsy as he shook his head at a measly can of stew, that not so long ago would’ve looked like dog food, yet now seemed like manna dropped straight down from Heaven. “God damn, I’m hungry!”
“How about you…?” Davey said. “You never told me your name.”
“Lila, and that’s Scott. And I’ll just have some Spam.” She laughed. “Boy,” she said. “Never thought I’d hear myself say that! ”
“I never thought a lot of stuff,” Davey said as he fastened the rusty old utensil onto the narrow edge of Scott’s beef stew and began twisting the handle. “Never thought I’d never see my parents again, or my brothers and sisters or any of my friends. Never thought I’d be scavenging around dumpsters to keep myself from starving, or sleeping under houses or run into somebody roasting somebody else over a flaming pit, much less eating—”
“My God,” said Lila. “I’m so sorry you had to see something like that.” She stroked a hand across his head, and Davey pulled away. He handed over Scott’s meal, staring out at the billowing curtains as if he were watching past misfortunes play out through the side window. “Saw that and a whole lot more.”
Scott watched Davey pick up a container of Spam and go about the business of opening it. He really felt for the kid, and felt a certain kinship to him. Davey, a lost and lonely boy who may never see his family again, was not much different than Scott, who at that moment was just as lost and lonely as anyone anywhere on the face of this godforsaken
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