Scavengers {#Wattys2016}

Chapter Eleven

The next morning was another rainy morning. But it wasn't a friendly drizzle. It was a downpour. Outside I could hear the rushing and hissing of the water as it created a small thin layer over the streets. Later if the rain's pace kept up it would only get worse. I was up before my father this morning which was usual.

Though today, I couldn't go outside. I wasn't allowed to. I didn't want to either. However someone had to collect the jugs outside and empty them.

    I pulled my hood over my head and opened the door. The rain was shattering down upon the stairs but gravity pulled it back down to the streets where it would just continue to fill up. The gutters well, they haven't been cleaned out in a long time.

By now all the junk, and gunk is stuffing the holes. I picked up two jugs and carried them inside. Next I resumed to gather the rest. As I picked up the last one another hand reached for it and I looked up to see Michael already soaked. He picked it up though without a word and headed back inside.

    I followed and we resumed to carrying the jugs to the fifth floor and leave them there in the hallway and headed back down to the fourth floor to the room. It was an awkward silence. Kinda like one of those you have with a person you don't enjoy too much.

    As I put my hand on the door knob I turned looking back at Jordan. I sighed as he stared debating with those hard Russian eyes. He looked really serious all the time. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. Probably thought I was a silly girl.

Jordan crossed his arms. He looked at me for a solid good minute and I was expecting him to say something. He then blew through his cheeks, "I suppose I need to apologize--!" "No", I said turning around and about to open the door.

"No....you don't have to. You asked a valid question", I said and went inside quietly and was careful not to wake anyone other than my sister who was supposed to be keeping watch. 

I sat down in a flimsy wooden chipped chair at the table. Jordan sat on the other side within the second one. We never used the table. It was unsanitary, but then again everything here was anyway. The table was decorated with the scars of countless tally marks. Each representing a day. I took out a pocket knife and slowly added another to the collection. So we wouldn't lose track of time we had a girly pink kitty calendar hanging above one of the counters. At least it used to be pink. Now it was mush but still useful. Each year we would calculate the dates for another new upcoming 365 days.

Jordan watched was I slowly dragged the knife screeching slightly. Dragging on and on for some many drooling moments. He could see the pocket knife had a dull and faint stain upon the tiny blade.

"How long has it been?", he asked suddenly very quiet.

I stopped and began to rock my knife with the tip of my finger.

Left.

Then right.

Left.

Then right.

So on it rocked at the edge of the tally mark slowly shaving off bits of splinters.

"Too long", I replied staring at the knife and the way it slowly drilled in.

"How many years?", he asked.

"14 years",  I replied not stopping my blank stare.

"What happened?", he asked.

    I was silent for a long while just staring at the knife was I rocked it was if day dreaming. My head leaned carelessly with exhaustion upon my second hand which supported on my cheek.