City of Destruction

Not One of Us

    My father’s friend found me within all of ten minutes, and I climbed into his rusty old blue pick-up truck once I was reassured that my father had indeed sent him for me.  After a short drive, the man pulled up to a tall brown wooden fence below a viaduct. He pointed at the gate. “That’s a McDebbie’s there,” he said.

    I looked warily at the gate.  “That doesn’t look like a McDebbie’s,” I said.

    The man shrugged.  “That’s the way we do things here,” he replied.  “You go through that door.”

    Nervous but hungry, I got out of the truck and went through the gate.  There were brown and green dumpsters lined up on each side, but still I continued walking toward the back door of the restaurant.  The screen door across the back door was closed, but the door itself was open, probably to let some of the heat out.

    I stepped through the screen door and timidly tried to ask one of the employees for help.  His head jerked up toward me in surprise and anger. “What are you doing back here?” he demanded.

    “I – I’m sorry.  I’m just looking for some food, sir,” I explained.

    “You’re not supposed to be back here,” the man insisted, grabbing a meat cleaver and taking a step toward me.  His agitation caused several other employees to look our way.

    “I didn’t know.  I was told it was alright,” I said.  “I’m not from here, you see.”

    “Intruder,” one of the other employees seethed.  I noticed that all of them were now approaching me, many of them holding dangerous weapons – knives, sticks, mallets, glass.

    Taking a couple of steps backward toward the front of the restaurant, I lifted my hands in plea.  “Please. Please, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just hungry, that’s all.”

    “We’ll show you to barge in where you don’t belong.”

    “You’re not one of us.”

    “We’ve got to kill him.”

    “You should have never come here.”

    By now, I had backed up to the front of the restaurant, its employees in pursuit.  Seeing that there was about to be trouble, the other patrons immediately began rushing out of the front door.

    “Don’t let him get away.”

    One of the employees reached out a hand to grab me, but I lunged back, turned and ran for my life out of the front door and into the streets.