Shrouded

.III.

The thunder was still rolling when I woke in the damp darkness of the abandoned room. My limbs were heavy and my head was lost in fog. I sat up slowly and rubbed my aching neck. Lumpy backpacks do not make good pillows.

My teeth felt fuzzy and I could barely stand the taste of my own breath, so I reached into my bag and pulled out my toothbrush, a mini tube of mint toothpaste, and a half-empty bottle of water. The cool sting of the mint woke me up a bit. It was quite dark outside; charcoal clouds blocked the sun, but I guessed it was maybe 12'o'clock. I placed my toothbrush back in it's baggie, and left it and my toothpaste on the floor where I slept. I figured I'd stay for a while.

I stood slowly, my legs trembling a bit, and steadied myself with one hand on a dusty window-well. A wave of darkness washed over me, and when it left, I was stuck with a throbbing headache. Still, I picked up my backpack and made my way out of the room and down the hall, poking my head into the room that Jude and I shot up in last night. The man was there, lanky body curled up on the grimy blankets, snoring softly. I decided not to disturb him. I'd be back tonight, anyway.

I stood in the empty doorway, staring at the driving rain, dreading going out in it. I knew I needed food, and Jude was always a prick after he came down from a high; cold and rude and bristly, so I made my way out into the downpour.

The dimness was intermittently lit with bolts of white lightning, and I rattled the change in my pocket, belly growling for fries and a cheeseburger. I bent my path towards the McDonald's in the next neighborhood. It took me roughly 45 minutes to hoof it to the place, and I was drenched by the time I got there. Before I stepped into the fast food joint, I shucked off my coat. Even cheap places discriminated against people that looked shady, and my grubby, too-small coat was a neon sign labeling me an urchin.

I looked at the jacket, and almost shoved it in my backpack like I always did, but in a flash of lightning, I saw the ground-in dirt, the protruding, moldy feathers poking through the fabric, the too-short sleeves and the busted zipper, and I stuffed it in the trash can beside the door instead.

It was chilly without the coat, but it wasn't unbearably cold. I still had my long shirt on, and resolved to find another coat as soon as I was able. I pushed open the glass doors and was greeted with warm air and the smell of grease.

My mother had taken me to a McDonald's exactly once. She didn't like fast food, loved to cook, and wanted our meals to be healthy and fun. A few days after dad left, though, she picked me up from school, looking tired and careworn, and pulled into the parking lot under their golden arch sign.

She ordered a salad, and got me a cheeseburger Happy Meal with a chocolate milk. We ate in a sad sort of silence. The food was okay. I liked mom's cooking better.

-

I ordered a cheeseburger and a small fry, and got a water cup for free, which I sneakily filled with Sprite when the cashier wasn't paying attention. Although, judging from his apathetic stare, broken only by a 'customer service' smile whenever someone was in sight, I doubt he would have cared, anyway.

I tossed my pack into an empty booth at the back of the sparsely attended restaurant, and dropped into the bench myself, shoving hot, salty fries into my mouth a few at a time, until I remembered to stop and savor them. I was down to those short little nubby fries at the bottom of the box, and placed them on my tongue one by one, sucking the oil and salt away before slowly chewing and swallowing.

The raging hunger in my belly quieted after I'd eaten the last bite of my burger. I sat back and sighed contentedly, my pants, for once, feeling the tiniest bit tight.

I sipped on my sprite as the thunder rolled relentlessly outside the McDonald's. I was warm and dry and safe, and began to hum softly to myself. At first, it was nonsense with no tune, but my mind soon slipped into the lyrics of my mother's favorite hymn, and I sang them softly to myself, picturing her sweet, heart shaped face, raven hair tumbling out of it's confined braid, as she sang while gently stirring pasta or stroking my cheek.

"A message came to a maiden young, the angel stood beside her... in shining robes with golden tongue, and told what should betide her..."

I hadn't been to church in ages, since mama took sick, and honestly I wasn't sure of my beliefs anymore, either. It seemed to me that any god who would take someone like my mother out of the world and leave me alone in it wasn't someone I wanted to worship. Then again, nothing that mama had been so certain about could be just stories, right?

Either way, the hymns and the memories of my mother's voice were still nice.

I looked towards the counter, and saw one of the workers glaring at me and whispering to a tall, hefty, bald man. The manager. We'd had run-ins before, and he didn't like me much. When he started marching over to me, I snatched my bag and hustled through the nearest exit, back into the heavy rain. My clothes were still damp from my earlier walk, and I was immediately soaked again once I stepped outside. Fat drops of water landed on my nose and cheeks, and I relished in their freshness for a moment before the chill of the air started to seep through my wet clothing. Will this rain ever end?

I started the long walk back to the apartments. I told myself I'd get another hit and then sleep again. I was starting to get a little jittery, and my hands were twitching and shaky.

When I got back, the sun was still hidden, but I guessed it was late afternoon, maybe 3 or 4. I started to head around the back, and when I got to the doorway, I heard muffled shouting.

Curious, I slipped quietly into the building, and crept heel-to-toe through the hallways so that my feet made no sound. The voices were becoming more clear, and I identified Jude's strained tenor, as well as another, lower voice that I didn't recognize.

As I cautiously snuck through the apartments, passing musty, empty rooms and skirting piles of rat droppings, the argumentative voices raised, and the fight seemed to reach a fever-pitch. The voice I didn't recognize screamed something, the indistinct echoes bouncing back to me. I finally slid close enough to hear Jude, harshly shouting.

"When you can pay me, you can have the product. I'm not giving you any more freebies because you never fucking pay me!"

"I'm good for it this time, man," the other voice said. "Just this last time, and I'll give you the money as soon as I have it!"

I peeked into the room that the voices emanated from and saw Jude, nearly nose-to-nose with a lanky, dark skinned man.

"And how many times have I heard that?" Jude shoved the stranger.

The man stumbled, tripped on his own feet, and met the floor. I watched him push himself up and dust himself off, wiping his hands on his dandelion-yellow shirt. Though his actions were calm, I was terrified of the intensity of the anger and hate in his eyes.

"Here's how it's gonna go," the stranger said. He walked closer to Jude, and his skinny frame suddenly seemed quite intimidating. "You're gonna give me what I want, or I'm gonna fucking take it." He spit the curse at Jude like it was acid.

I was unsure of what to do. I couldn't run into the room. What chance would I stand against a grown man? I didn't want to run away, either. What if Jude got hurt and needed help after the man left? I stood rooted to the cracked concrete floor.

The stranger shoved Jude, and he fell into the pile of blankets. Jude shook his head at the other man. "Not until I'm paid for this hit and the last four I gave you." I saw him shove his hand under the blankets, his arm moving nearly imperceptibly as he searched for something hidden in those rags.

The other man was too preoccupied to notice Jude's searching, and in a sudden surge of anger, he drew his fist back and slammed it rapidly into Jude's face, once, twice, three times.

I'm not entirely sure how the next events even happened; I saw them in a blur, and it was over so quickly.

The stranger drew back his arm for another punch, I heard a metallic little click, and a rough bang echoed through the room. The stranger fell back, toppling to the floor, with red blooming on his yellow shirt.

I made a small sound like a whimper in the back of my throat, and Jude jerked his head up, spotting me in the doorway as he stood over the other man's body, a small, silver pistol in his hands, bright blood dripping from his nose.

His blue eyes found my brown ones, and I watched him shift through fear, anger, guilt, sadness... and finally grow cold.

Jude started walking towards me.