Deamons

Chapter 15 Angels are people too part 1

Angels are people too

Starke heads toward the light of the Inner Harbor like he is a lost soul reaching for the lights of heaven. He walks around looking like a refugee with his old military laundry bag over his shoulder. The bag is heavy now with all the adrenaline spent. It is getting colder but he does not want to stop and fish through his bag, to many people are staring at him. Fancy dressed business people and tourist, he does not want to look homeless by stopping and letting people see what is in his bag.

He spots a payphone and fishes through his pocket for a quarter. He dials the only number of a person who he thinks may help him, Craig. "Craig man," Starke starts. "Where are you? Your parents where here looking for you. Man, my dad almost knocked both of them out," Craig says. "Oh no I don't want your dad getting in any trouble," Starke says. "Don't worry about them," Craig insists. "Where are you?" "I am in downtown Baltimore, I don't have anywhere to go," Starke answers. "Come here." "No, I don't want your parents to get in trouble." "Then we won't tell them. I will hide you in my room. You can come through the window," Craig insists. "No to risky," besides Starke thinks he does not think he could stand just sitting there quiet all day while Craig was in school. "I was thinking if I could get down by them woods by your house. Could you bring me some blankets and food?" Starke asks. "Man, you will freeze out there. Let me check something. Call me back in ten minutes," Craig says.

Starke keeps moving mentally trying to pace the time. The food smells wonderful coming from the tourist traps. All of it to expansive for him to buy something to eat. All the same his stomach does not seem to know that churning and begging to be fed. Fatigue is coming fast too. He has no idea what Craig has in mind but he needs to find somewhere to sleep. He can see his breath now. He has seen homeless sleep over top of warms grates in the city. I bet they are all claimed by now, he thinks. Maybe an alley but once he falls asleep, ooh, he shakes his head. The image of an old lady with chunks of flesh torn from her calf runs through his head. It is a memory of a dead body he saw once. The lady had lived alone, well she had several cats. He went with his father to pick her up off the floor when she died. Starke grabbed her legs with his bare hands as always. His fingers pushed to far in. He could not let go though, his father was lifting at the head end too so he had to hold on until she was on the cot. Once she was on the cot he pulled up her pant leg and saw the damage. He showed his father. "That happened after she died, look no blood," he said.

His father figured the cats got hungry after she died and had no choice. It was just survival. No point in telling her family. It would only upset them. He understood. It upset him and he was not her family. All the rats around. Always hungry, always on the hunt for food. He pictured what they might do if he slept in an alley alone.

Time must be up. He finds another phone and calls Craig. "I called my grandfather. He lives in Riviera beach. He said you can stay with him, but you've got to get there. He does not drive at night. He can't see in the dark so good. He is a veteran." A veteran? Starke chuckles what does that have to do with anything. "Ok great I will call you when I get there," Starke says and hangs up.

Riviera Beach is a part of Pasadena he is familiar with but it will be a far walk. He will not make it there tonight. The best he figures he can do is start walking that way and hope he can get out of the city and find a place to hide and sleep. He walks by a big glass front hotel. Cabs line the front of the building, waiting for fares. "Starke." He turns to see who knows his name. It's an elderly black man. He does not recognize the face. "Come on get in," he says holding the cab door open. Faced with the alternative of freezing to death or waking up to find himself gnawed on by rats, he accepts the invitation and gets in.

"Where you going," the cabbie asks as he pulls away. "Riviera Beach," Starke answers. The are on their way. Starke is watching the meter. The dollars click by quickly. He checks his money. Thirteen dollars. Well, he figures, I will just ask him to stop when he gets close to that amount. "Hey I don't have much money so if you can just drop me off in the next mile or so." It will still be to far to walk that night but at least he is almost out of the city. He can walk a few more miles and find somewhere to sleep.

"It doesn't work like that," the cabbie explains. "Fares that far are a set rate. I need to call in and see how much it is to Riviera Beach." The meter reads ten dollars and is clicking on fast. He figures he won't have enough either way. "Just let me out up ahead," Starke requests. It is really dark up there. No houses. It is near an old dump once used to bring all the cities trash. "Just take it easy son. Set fairs are cheaper."

He figures he will just have to leave the money he has on the seat and run. He is tired. He might have to leave the bag behind when he takes off. Then the answer comes back across the radio, "Rrr-Thirteen dollars-rrr." He is relieved. He does not even wonder about the amount or how he ended up in that cab at the time. He is just grateful to be warm and safe.

The cabby pulls into a McDonald's restaurant in Riviera Beach. "Ok this is the drop off point. Sorry I cannot take you right to where you are going. The flat rate doesn't cover that," the cabby says. "No this is ok," Starke says. It is far better then anything he hoped for. There is a payphone just outside the door of the restaurant. Lucky thing too because they lock the door as he approaches, it is closing time. He calls Craig. In the background he can hear Craig's mother asking who is calling so late. "Shut up ma!" Craig screams. Then whispers the address of his grandfather to Starke.