The Lives of Tao by Wesley Chu

well past 10pm by the time Roen left the office. Heels dragging, he trudged out of the building and made the lonely walk to the parking garage. The clouds were out in full force tonight, common at this time of year, and a stiff breeze came in from the lake. Roen picked up the pace a bit as he walked the six long blocks to his car. He had the option of parking closer at the Grant Park garage, but parking there cost thirty bucks. That’s like two pizzas, so he was resigned to making the long trek to the further away but cheaper garage. He continued south on Wabash and crossed the street, hearing the rumbling of the train as it passed nearby.
    Roen’s highly attuned sense of self-preservation began to let him know it was unhappy. Something didn’t feel right and he fidgeted as his eyes darted up and down the street. It was deserted except for a homeless guy crossing the intersection towards his side. There was no one walking behind Roen either. This part of the Loop was poorly lit and was a bit rougher than the business district just a few blocks north.
    Then the homeless guy changed directions and moved onto an intercept course. Roen sighed. He had learned to always keep a few dollar bills on hand to give to beggars. It was the easiest way to get rid of them. Roen handed a buck over before the homeless guy even said a word. “Here you go,” Roen said hastily, and tried to pass him.
    “Thanks, boss,” the homeless guy replied, shifting to his left to block Roen’s path. “Look man, I’m hungry. Dollar ain’t gonna buy much. Let me get a few more for a meal.” He stepped in really close. Roen could smell faint traces of liquor and the stale aroma of unwashed clothing.
    “Sorry,” Roen mumbled and tried to pass him again. Again, the homeless guy blocked his path, more insistently this time. “Hey, back off,” Roen stuttered, trying to keep the homeless guy at arm’s length.
    The homeless guy pushed him hard, causing Roen to stumble a few steps. “Why you gotta push me? I’m just asking for a couple bucks to eat.”
    Not one for confrontation, Roen turned into a side alley and immediately regretted his decision. Alleys were where bad things happened and he just did the exact thing the Idiot’s Survival Guide to the City would tell him not to do. It was a dead end. He turned around and faced the homeless guy, slowly retreating. “All right, how much you need for a meal?”
    The homeless guy grinned. “Price just went up, boss. You gone hurt my feelings.” Then he became a mugger as he pulled out a knife. “It’s going to cost you your cash, your train pass, that bag you carrying, oh hell, everything you got.”
    Roen fought the rising panic climbing up his throat as he stumbled backwards. How did he get himself into these situations? He thought, Damn you, Musday!
    “Look,” he stammered, barely getting the words out, “let’s talk this over. I can give you my money, but this is my work bag. I need the stuff in it. I’ll get in trouble.”
    “You don’t think you’re in trouble now? This ain’t no negotiation, asshole.”
    Tell him that he can have the money, but you are keeping your bag.  
    Roen looked confused. “What did you say?”
    “What’s wrong with you, boss? God, you dumb. Give me your stuff or I stick you.”
    Roen retreated until his back bumped against a garbage dumpster. He began to hyperventilate.
    What kind of a mugger uses a knife? It is almost insulting. Listen carefully, there are some wine bottles at your feet. Pick them up.  
    “Who is this? What’s going on?” Roen cried.
    Your feet. Bottles. Pick. Them. Up. Now!  
    The mugger advanced. “I’m losing my patience with you, tubby. You’re going to be a fat dead man any minute.”
    Roen looked down at the ground and saw several empty wine bottles. He picked up one in each hand and brandished them in front of him.
    Hold them by the neck. The neck. The skinny part.  
    Roen hastily switched his grip. “Stay back,” he