“Uno!!!,” shouted D-Rock.
“Damn, again! How do you keep getting the good cards? “I complained.
“410, I may be homeless, but I’m still lucky,” he laughed as he said it.
That was my nickname. It wasn’t a very good one, but it stuck. D-Rock gave me that nickname because that’s the time of day when we first met. Not very creative, but I liked it. I didn’t want to explain who I was before I hit rock bottom. No one ever really talked about their past in the camp, except for D-Rock. He never stopped talking, but most were focused on the here and now, or at least in conversation. A number for a name; it was fitting.
“Hey fellas, I won’t to bring in another person.”
The group grumbled, complaining that we had a good thing. We didn’t need to mess up the dynamic.
“D-Rock, you are always making us vulnerable. We got a good thing. If you bring too many people in, the supply gets cut off.”
Captain was sort of the boss, the el jefe if you will. He had worked out a deal with a sympathetic teenager over at a family run grocery store. Billy was his name and instead of just throwing out expired food he would bag it and give it to Captain.
“She was raped while hanging out with another group, and they ain’t gettin rid of the guy. He’s going to do it again. They gave em a warning like that’s going to mean shit.”
Everyone grew quiet. It was a collective concentration on what needed to be done.
“I say we let her in,” Stew mumbled.
“I agree,” adding my two cents.
One more hand of cards and we were all off to bed. We had some tents and a couple of shanties, one for supplies and our own little clinic. If you were so inclined and needed a fix, we had built a safe shanty, as we called it. It had the only mattress in camp, and we took turns looking in to make sure everything was alright, if someone had decided to occupy it. Most of us though preferred alcohol. I didn’t really see the hard stuff that much. When I first started roaming the streets looking for somewhere to sleep, I got hooked up with D-Rock early on and the group he was with was more in line with my own problems. It’s weird to think that within the homeless community, there are cliques. Humans are the same no matter their situation. They’d rather be with their own kind. In this case, your own kind was akin to how you got to the streets. You didn’t have to tell anyone how it happened. It was easy to figure out. There is a myriad of reasons people become homeless. In fact, D-Rock didn’t become homeless because he was an alcoholic. Well, I guess that’s sort of not true. He became an alcoholic because he lost his nine-year-old son to cancer, and after that his wife left him. He couldn’t face reality and who could blame him. He started drinking and from that moment on he started stepping away from civilization and into the gutter.
My own story is a little different. I was a heroin addict. I had, of course, started like so many people, hooked on pain killers. I have a degree in business. I was promoted to supervisor and working my way up the corporate ladder as they say. My life was fine, I was doing well and then I fell off my ladder while I was cleaning my gutters. They say I fractured my spine in several places. I never really recovered, and the pain never subsided. They assured me it would heal in time. I think my doctor was an idiot. I tried to get a second opinion, but the result was the same. They said I was healing but I felt like I was getting worse. My doctor prescribed Hydrocodone and I loved that stuff. Oh man, it made me feel so good. I remember my ex-wife hated it. She did not like the feeling at all. If she was prescribed any, she would take only enough for the first day or so and I would always finish off the bottle.
Eventually, my wife left me. It got bad. I spent everything we had. I don’t blame her for leaving. It wasn’t fair for her to sink with the ship. I was the Captain, and I alone should go under. I hear people every now and then admit that they have a drinking problem, but they’ll say that they can handle it. They call themselves functioning alcoholics. I say bullshit; there’s no such thing. You’re an alcoholic and there’s someone at home, a wife, a husband, or a mom and dad, who makes sure you don’t miss work, who wipes your ass, and does everything possible to create the illusion that your life is in order, and everything is rainbows and sunshine. Yet, if that someone gives up on you, you’re living in a shanty town like the rest of us.
The next day we were going to meet the new tenant. I hadn’t really been close to a woman in a while and although there was not much I could do to improve my disheveled appearance I was going to try to freshen up a bit. I knew I smelled like a boy’s locker room after football practice and after someone had taken a dump. I smelled like sweat and shit. I went down to the creek but walked a little further than normal. I was a little embarrassed by the fuss I was making over meeting a woman. I didn’t want the guys to give me hell about it. I washed my face and hands. I plucked off some twigs from a Juniper tree and rubbed it all over my hands and neck, even lifted up my shirt and rubbed it on my stomach and chest. When I was done, I stood up and looked down the creek to my right and saw in the distance a cave. I had always heard there was a cave but had never seen it. I walked back to the camp and went up to Captain.
“Hey, did you know there was a cave not too far from here?”
“You went that far.”
My cover was blown. “I was just curious. Exploring a little bit.”
“Don’t ever, and I mean it, ever go near that cave. Bad things happen there.”
I was a little skeptical, not only because I had never heard of this on the news but also because the Captain tended to exaggerate.
“Bad things, you mean like murder? I’ve never heard any news about that. The police never investigated?”
“You think I’m lying. Yeah, they investigated it, but it never happens to anybody important, so no one cares. It happens to us.”
I was still incredulous. “Then why are we living here?”
“Because we have a good deal here. We’re ok if we just stay away from it. Look, you don’t have to stay. You can leave.”
I didn’t respond. First of all, I didn’t believe it and second, I couldn’t leave D-Rock. He had become my best friend.
“Everyone, I like you to meet Dee,” D-Rock announced.
Surprisingly to me Dee was a little heavy set. She had long blonde hair and a nice round face. She had the look of a woman who had been living on the streets for a while. When she smiled you could see her teeth weren’t perfect and she needed some dental work. Her arms in places were scabbed over, but you could see that she once was a very beautiful woman. That was a common adjective in the homeless community- such and such ‘once was.’ He once was a successful high school baseball pitcher. She once was pursuing a career in law. I thought it was neat. It was less about seeing the person’s failure and seeing the missed opportunity, that they had the means to be successful but somehow life had robbed them of it. Of course, people acknowledged their mistakes, but justice isn’t always dealt evenly. Karma isn’t perfect, people suffer vastly different consequences for the same mistakes, especially when you’re on the margins.
Yeah, Dee once was beautiful, so I perceived her as beautiful. I was nervous but worked up the nerve to introduce myself.
“Hey I’m 410.”
“410? Is that a part of your Social Security number?” She chuckled.
“No, that’s the time D-Rock and I first met. It wasn’t my choice. You don’t get to choose your own nickname here.”
She smiled, “Well, let’s hope I get a good one.”
“Hey, tonight I think he should let Dee have the safe shanty. She’s not fixin or anything. I just think she’s a guest first and should get the finest we have to offer, but as soon as she becomes a member, she has to share in the shitty stuff like the rest of us.”
Everyone laughed and I could tell that D-Rock had taken a shine to her. I was a bit jealous because I really liked her and it seemed she was more into him than me.
That night I was hurting, hurting bad. I needed a fix. I hadn’t been on the corner collecting, and I needed money. How could it get it quick? I was dry heaving and that’s the worst, because there’s no relief. Normally, you vomit, expel what you have eaten, and you feel better. I had nothing in my stomach. It was empty but I kept heaving, straining more stomach muscles and irritating my throat. I was sweating like I was in an oven. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out and walk.
It was late in the night. There was no moon. The only light was the small streetlamp from the grocery store on the other side of the bank. You could look across from our camp and see the back door where we would get our supplies. I heard a rustle of leaves and saw the flaps of Stew’s tent fold into the interior of his tent as if something invisible had crawled through. The flaps moved now to the exterior and Stew’s body was moving across the ground. His feet were together and up off the ground, as if something was dragging him. His arms never moved but were flung up over his head. He was dragged over the top of a rock and his head bounced up and then violently back to the ground. Stew didn’t react. I couldn’t see if his eyes were closed or not. It was too dark.
“Stew. Wake up. Wake up,” I whispered. As silly as it sounds, I didn’t want to wake up everyone else, but then the dragging became quicker, and Stew was sliding across the ground like a human luge in an Olympic competition. It was then that I yelled. It was automatic.
“Stew! Stew! Wake up. Hey, something is happening.”
Captain came out of his tent. “What’s going on?”
I was dumbfounded and could only point in Stew’s direction. I know the Captain may not have seen it all but he caught a glimpse of it because I heard him whisper to himself, “Not again.”
“Not again? What the fuck are you talking about.”
“The cave.”
Everyone else had awakened and were asking what all the noise was about.
“Nothing. Everyone, go back to sleep. Stew and I had an argument and he’s probably going to leave.”
The group bought it and went back to their tents, but I stayed right where I was and waited.
“Why did you lie to them?” We have to go find and help him.”
“Leave it alone 410. There’s no helping him. He’s gone. The group is better off not knowing and you’re better off staying here.”
“I can’t believe you. You’re just going to pretend like nothing happened. What do you know that you’re not telling us.”
“Did you see anything? Huh, dumbass. Did you see anything? I bet you didn’t. You only saw Stew’s body. Doesn’t that tell you something? Doesn’t that say you’re dealing with something you can’t fight?”
I had been lost in our conversation and when I really started to think about it the whole affair scared the hell out of me.
“No, I didn’t see anything.”
I went back to my tent but of course I didn’t go to sleep. The only good thing is that the fear had beaten back my craving for a bit. I could do without a fix for the next hour or so. I laid there debating on whether or not I should go to that cave and look for Stew. We hadn’t always gotten along. There were times he would try to muscle me off of the corner of Hayworth Lane and Williams Pike. That was prime real estate for collecting and for some reason most people were more generous at that spot than anywhere else. Maybe it was because there was a church there with a statue of Jesus staring directly at traffic, like a warning that if you didn’t give, he would see it and record your greediness in his heavenly hall of records. I didn’t like Stew, but I couldn’t let him suffer.
I made my way out of the tent and saw Dee standing outside the safe shanty. I looked at her real quick and then started making my way to the cave.
“Hey, where you going 410?”
“Nowhere. Just stay there,” I said abruptly and in an angry tone.
“Well damn, in that case I’m coming anyway just out of spite.”
“Look Dee, it’s not safe here. Stew didn’t leave. Someone or something dragged him off. I’m going to look for him. Captain knows, but he’s not willing to tell the truth.”
“I’m still coming.”
“Holy shit, you’re so stubborn.”
“Yep.”
What could I do. I didn’t want her to make a scene. I didn’t want anyone else to know where I was going. The trek was easy at first but then the bank got steep and overgrown with a thick underbrush. In the midst of all that brush were large rocks with steep gaps in between. I luckily avoided hurting my leg, stepping into one of the gaps. I fell fast and hard up to my knee. If I would have had time to react, I would have unwisely twisted myself and ended up breaking my leg. Dee grabbed me by the arm and helped me out. The terrain made me think that whatever dragged Stew out this way must have been supernaturally strong. I was glad that we weren’t too much farther from the cave.
As we approached the mouth of the cave, I saw Stew’s clothes laying on the ground. I knew it was his clothes because I recognized his bright Daytona Beach tee shirt. I looked back at Dee and motioned to her to be quiet. With careful steps we slowly made our way to the mouth of the cave to see what was inside.
Stew’s nude body was lying on its back. He had been cut open from the bottom of his chin down through his pelvis. He was an empty shell, his body cavity scooped out of all internal organs. The interior cave walls were bathed in blood. All the sudden something invisible lifted Stew’s body by the ankles and violently smashed his head against the outside wall of the cave. His head imploded. And then again, he was smashed against the rocks. This happened about three more times. And as if to give up on its prior course of action, the spirit started to twist Stew’s head off. His head pivoted around in a circle, snapping the bones in his neck and then his head was torn straight up from his body.
Dee had already hauled ass out of there. I turned to run myself, but this spirit or demon grabbed me and slung me down the bank and into the creek. I sat up quickly. The creek at that point was only about two feet deep. I saw the tree limbs snapping, brush parting, and the forest floor compressed by something making its way towards me. I could tell that it had come to the edge of the bank. I didn’t move. I couldn’t understand why but I sensed that it would not come in the water. I heard Dee yell in pain. She had fell through one of the gaps. The spirit made a new path toward Dee.
“Dee. It’s coming after you! Hurry. Get in the water. It won’t get in the creek! Go dammit. Get in the water!”
I saw Dee struggling to get her leg free. The spirit was getting closer. She finally got free and headed towards the creek. She got about two feet away and launched into a headfirst dive. While she was in the air the spirit swiped at her, hit her feet, and knocking her into a tailspin. Instead of a graceful dive it turned into a belly flop. It wasn’t a ten in the eyes of a judge, but it got her to safety.
I waded up the creek to where she was standing. We looked at each other in bewilderment. I couldn’t help to think how sexy she looked with wet hair.
“You look horrible,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“Well 410 what do we do now.”
“I only know for now we’ll travel through creek.”
We waded up the creek and when we got almost to the bank under the campsite, I heard Captain yelling.
“You went to that cave didn’t you. I told you not to do that. I bet you didn’t like what you saw.” He walked down to the edge of the bank. “Why don’t you come up out of the water?”
“No, but I suggest you get in the water as well,” I said.
“Dad, what’s going on.” I looked up and saw Billy on the other side of the creek holding a shopping bag in his hand. “Do you still need these?”
“Dammit Billy. I told you never to come out here. Just leave the bags out by the dumpster.”
“Dad? Billy is your son?’
“Ok 410, you snooping son of a bitch. I guess the cat is out of the bag. I like you too. I gave you passage. I gave you protection.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Billy, go back into the store.” Billy did as he was told, and I could hear the store door clang shut.
“Captain, you’re not making any sense,” added Dee.
“Bitch shut up! I didn’t want you here anyway!” he yelled. “Yes, I own the grocery store and I own the land with a cave on it. The land on up from the cave encompasses a farm and my lovely half a million-dollar home. I’m not homeless, never have been. The man I bought the house and land from had a little secret. You see back in the old days you couldn’t really keep people from squatting on your land. Dogs could work but they could only patrol so much area without getting bored and go after a squirrel or something. There’s not enough time to build a fence to surround so much land, so much wealth if you will. Yet, someone learned that you could summon a protective demon. A demon beholden to the owner of the land. It would guard your boundaries and leave you alone. There’s nothing more efficient. It was a previous owner, not the old man, someone as far back as the colonial times. The old man told me that no one knew how to stop it or get it to leave, so he made sure that he performed the little ritual that gave any visitor he wanted safe passage. Although, he said one time he got curious. Some young man had camped out on his land. He was hunting and a stray bullet hit his house. That angered the old man. You come on my land and hunt without permission, and then to top it off, you hit my house where my wife and kids are sleeping. Oh, he said what that spirit did to the young man was terrifying. I, on the other hand, was amazed by it.”
“And you’ve been bringing homeless people here to feed the beast.”
“Not everyone 410. If you are really down on your luck and its not your own fault then I leave you alone and eventually force you to leave, but if you’re a worthless piece of shit, I let the beast rid the world of your helplessness, sucking on the teat of everyone else’s hard work. Stew was an accident. I didn’t mean to let it get so close to the camp. That happens sometimes. Haven’t figured out how to set new boundaries.”
“That’s why the spirit can’t come to the creek. Asshole here don’t own the creek,” said Dee.
“That’s right, but you can’t walk in the creek forever.”
“But we can get to land you don’t own.”
“I thought of that Dee.” Captain pushed his flannel shirt aside and pulled his pistol from his holster. “Sorry guys, but this too good of a thing to have a couple of junkies ruin it.” He aimed and shot, hitting Dee in the arm. Out of nowhere D-Rock tackled Captain from behind, knocking the gun out of his hand. The gun was slung far down the bank but not close enough for me to grab it.
Captain kicked D-Rock in the face and turned to come after the gun. The spirit grabbed D-Rock and threw him into the air. D-Rock started to scream in fear. I could hear his agony. I knew that something bad was happening, but I was focused on the gun and while the spirit was occupied with D-Rock I figured I could grab the gun and somehow save him. I climbed up the bank and grabbed the gun at the same time that Captain did. I had the stock, but he had a firm grip on the barrel, and it was pointed away from both of us. I punched him in his face with my left, but it wasn’t very powerful, given that I’m not a lefty. This infuriated him and he began doing the same to me, but his punches weren’t weak. They were devastating. He broke my nose and blood was flowing like water out of a faucet. My eyes were watering, and I was about to pass out. At that point, I saw a rock hit the side of his head. Dee had hurled a rock at him, and it was a magnificent throw, pin-point accuracy. He fell back and I secured the gun.
He wasn’t out cold, but he was weak. “Ok 410, you got me. I’m done. You can get in on this. I didn’t tell you the whole story. I can also share ownership of the spirit.” I gather that was bullshit and he was just making that up. His story wasn’t convincing, I just didn’t have the nerve to kill another human being, no matter how evil, and especially one with a child to raise.
D-Rock’s body was thrown in the creek, splashing Dee and I with water and blood. His body bent in half, back broken and head missing.
“Oh D-Rock,” I heard Dee whimpering.
I grabbed Captain by his pants around the ankles with a strength I didn’t know I had and dragged him to me. I aimed the gun at his face and shot, but I didn’t stop until I had emptied the gun and as I was shooting, I lowered the gun to cover more of his body. I hit with every shot, exploding his face and peppering his torso. There was no way he was leaving that spot alive. I tossed the gun into the water.
Dee was crying and I was about to break down myself. That was my best friend tossed aside like garbage. We stayed in the creek not daring to leave our safe passage. We didn’t know how much land Captain owned so we walked at least a mile or two up the creek until we saw a small biker bar. There were some people standing out back talking and having a good time.
“What in the hell are you guys doing in the water?”
“Who owns this land, or that bar?”
A man stepped up and motioned to himself. “I own this bar. Why?”
“You don’t have a nephew named Billy, do you?”
“No.”
“Do you own the land all the way down to the creek?” asked Dee.
“Yes mam.”
We climbed out the creek and made our way up to the bar.
“You guys look terrible. Do you want something to eat? It’s on me.”
“Yes, thank you,” I responded.
We walked to an outside picnic table and sat down. We were filthy with mud, caked all over our bodies and we smelled like nasty old creek water, but the food they brought us was delicious and one good thing about living on the margins, you learn not to give a damn about what people think. What do they know. Absolutely nothing. They can’t judge. They don’t know why you are where you are and the reasons for it. Hell, there’s a demon guarding some land right up the road from where they live, ripping folks apart and stashing their bodies in a cave and they don’t even know it. Ignorance is bliss, until it shoves its claws right up your ass.