Survival

Chapter 4 Alone

"It's mom, she's-" Aida broke into sobs. He had no idea how a twelve year old could survive out there, regardless of how much of the spitfire the girl had become lately. He had to do something for her. Their mother sure as shit wouldn't be useful.         

"What's she gone and done now?"

"She's... she's dead, Gun."

It took a minute before those words made any sense to him. For years, he'd come home throwing curses as he wiped the vomit off her face and calling on their next door neighbour to see if she was alive. The woman couldn't be taken down with a parade of semis, but now...  If she was dead and Aida knew, his sister had to get the hell out of there before she was next.

"Aida, listen where are you?"

"Gun," she sobbed, "there's a piece of wood... it's right there, through her body. Like a giant wooden knife. There's blood, even on my hands," her voice grew fainter, "on my face."

"Aida, you need to get out of there now. You need-" but his words were cut off by a loud crash and a hollow dial tone. "Fuck!" he screamed as he tossed the cell at the wall. He let a few deep breaths.  

Mischa, his friend from fourth period pre-cal, came into the room, hair wet from being outside, dripping down her light pink top.

"Gunnar," she said softly, wrapping her arms around him, "is everything alright."

"No, it's not fucking alright, Misch," Gunnar said, kicking the wall. "It's my sister, and my mom."

Mischa held him tight, pressing her cold body against his. Any other day he would have dreamed to turn to face her and crash his lips against hers, but today was not any other day. It was the day he realized that no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't fit to protect the ones he loved.

Mischa... he had kept thought of her away for so long. He took a long drink out of the plastic bottle but the taste was as empty as the heavy space in his chest. The bell chimed as the door opened and he pushed away the thoughts. No need to get robbed over things he couldn't change.

"Balls!" cried out a female voice.

She stood at the liquor section, mourning the loss of her salvation. Gunnar gave her a once over, ratty black hair pulled on top of her head like a nest, tattered clothes and she reeked of booze.

"This your work?" she grumbled.

He held up a water bottle in explanation and headed to the door. No need to make matters difficult.

"Un-fuckin'-believable," she said and he suddenly cued into the two men standing outside the door.

"Water's in the fridge; food on the shelves." That should pacify her.

"I know I ain't living long, hun." She lifted her pant leg to reveal a leg swollen with yellow and green puss, blackening toward her foot. He almost mimicked Vita's constant puking, but choked it down if only for a moment. The raunchy smell filled the air. "I don't need a damn health lesson."

"This hood's been pretty stripped. Ya won't find much you're looking for."

Instead of another outburst, the girl tilted her head and looked Gunnar up and down a couple times. A smile grew on her face. His stomach tightened and his eyes shot back to the door where the two men still stood outside. "Want to make a dying girl's wish come true."

Her eyes shone with the same predatory gleam he had seen in men growing up in a house which doubled as his mother's under the table business. He wanted no part in their game. A quick reach in his pocket revealed a blade and her lustful eyes dried right up. He steadied the cool blade as she shrunk away.

"Do I look like a charity? Take your desperate someplace else."

He shoved the doors open and flashed the knife to get past the two men. Neither bothered with him. Instead they focused on the girl in the shop. With maybe forty five minutes left until sundown, he found an old coffee shop. The overturned tables and stools reassured him this could be a solitary space. A few coffee beans had spilled behind the counter along with a girl his age, stiff from the touch of death. He grabbed a couple of the beans in hopes that it might mask the smell if he slept beside them. He flipped the couch back onto its right side and covered its brown stained cushions with a table cloth. A noisy sleep sure beat a moldy one any night.

That group, it could have been him Rob and Vita doing the same thing. Vita selling herself for god knows what, the two of them trying not to disturb crap more than it needed to be. He never understood that girl. First she was in hysterics over Mischa's disappearance into thin air, blaming him. Like he wanted his only real friend out of the picture to be stuck with those dead beats. When they weren't trying to tear each other's head off, she was off being Rob's little play toy. And sure, Rob was pretty low on the scale of human beings, but he still looked out for Gunnar, and that was probably the reason they had stuck together for the past two years.

He still remembered how they met. Gunnar had the guts while Rob had the smarts to help him get away with it. Smarts never came easy to Gunnar so naturally he wanted to learn as much as he could from the guy. They had first met in a grocery store. Rob had watched him pocketing food and CDs and laughed at him, telling him to put the CD back.

"Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?" Gunnar snapped at Rob. His cold glare rested on this stranger.

Rob laughed and looked him right in the eye. "I'm the guy who's saving your ass from ending up in that office." He tilted his head towards the security office near the front. "CDs have labels that set off the security system. Don't be stupid, kid. No one even listens to CDs anymore."

Gunnar put the CD back on the rack without drawing any attention. Rob was right; he didn't need the music. Aida was the one who cared about that group anyway. He should have known better than to think families like theirs could celebrate birthdays like people on TV.

"And you're going to have to buy something. There's no way a kid like you is going to make it out without getting searched."

"A kid like me," Gunnar spat, eyeing the guy's striped shirt that made him look like he belonged at a country club.

"It's a compliment kid. Just buy a bag of chips or something and you'll be fine."

Gunnar's eyes sunk to the ground and his hands went back into his sweatshirt pocket. "I don't have any money," he muttered. He wasn't here to steal for shits and giggles like other bored and stupid kids looking for the rush. He'd take what he needed and sell the rest to come back to buy food.

"You what?"

"I don't have the money," he said, only a little louder.

Rob dug in his pocket. "I'll lend you five, but you're paying it back. I'll make sure you do."

Gunnar nodded, not minding as Rob had helped him walk out with nearly fifty dollars worth of goods, unnoticed.

But Rob wasn't always that guy and the help didn't come without a price. Every time he screwed up and Gunnar took the fall, he'd retell that story. The details got fancier each time. Suddenly Gunnar was walking away with a new iPod and Nikes. He would agree, but his respect for the guy fell a bit lower each time. It was for the best that they split last night. It had to be.