Eastside Riders : The Catkiller

Chapter Two: Food Delivery, Bike Thievery

"So, you do this all the time?"

Red was walking with his bike alongside Darren, the pair hauling bags of canned food into an abandoned mall. Darren gave a simple nod in response, kicking the stand of his bike out before walking to a covered door and kicking it lightly. It cracked open, and a short dog, probably in his late forties, stepped out before looking the pair over.

"You here for Arthur," He asked, his voice raspy and low, soon coughing up phlegm and spitting it off to the side. His fur was tattered in sections, with lesions left from unhygienic self-care and likely years of drug abuse.

"Yeah, we brought some stuff for him," Darren replied, and before the man could ask anything further, he dug out a couple cans and handed them to the man. "Go ahead and eat. We'll bring more in a couple days for you."

The man's eyes lit up, and he thanked the boy before moving aside and even barking out orders at the other occupants inside to move out of the way for them. Red followed alongside Darren through the inside of the old mall; an unwelcoming aroma of smoke - wood and tobacco - and excrement hit their noses, and while Red wrinkled his nose at the smell, Darren maintained an excellent poker face. Storefronts were lined with shanty homes made up of scrap from crumbled buildings and tarp. The roof had numerous holes, mold from rainwater seepage spread out form them akin to that of soot from a fire.

In fact, Red realized it probably was soot from the fires inside.

Darren once again showed little regard for the poor and cramped conditions. He was kind to anyone who walked up and asked them what they were doing, even when some of them got rambunctious, despite the fact they were much older and larger and if they truly wanted robbing them completely wasn't a difficult task. Red felt his heart jump a few times when someone would pop out of nowhere and question him about the bags, and his throat knotted.

"Pup, I'm asking about the food, are ya deaf," One of the men asked, a goat, holding his hand out towards Red.

He thought to himself that he didn't know what to do; should he give them a can of food, or maybe just run, but they were surrounded.

"Here you go, Tony," Darren interjected, his hand having dug through one of Red's bags for a can and currently handing it over. "Sorry for my friend, he's still getting used to things."

"Well, no problem, D," The goat replied, a sudden calmness to his tone. He backed away with nothing else to say, and Darren managed to calm the others as well.

"I'll bring more food," Darren explained loudly, "Just give me the chance to give some to Arthur first."

In a weird turn of events, the homeless crowd backed away and gave them a clear path outside. Some muttered about Arthur always not giving a fair share, but others argued the man was fairer than the complainant would be. Darren pulled Red further alongside him just in case, and as they walked he whispered to the tod.

"You did good back there, a lot of people freak out and try to run."

Red didn't reply, but he was proud that he did better than whatever number "a lot" meant for Darren.

They made their way outside and were in the middle of a quad area filled with sturdier makeshift buildings. The turf and concrete that once outlined and defined the old court of the mall was now ripped and torn to make way for run-off ditches, pipes, and holes used to throw away trash or relieve themselves in, explaining the stench. Darren guided him up the path and over some small wooden "bridges" over the aforementioned ditches, all the way until they reached a single "house" built in the center with much more room.