It Never Rains (But It Pours)

Like A Gift From God

Before long, Adam was forced to slow down by a painful stitch in his side. But he refused to stop walking. The sun set quickly, and soon darkness fell. With it, the scant heat of the day quickly dissipated. Now, Adam could see his breath. He kept moving, and before long, he had entered the city.

Soon, Adam was deep in the city, and not the best part of it. Out of necessity, he'd slowed to a brisk walk. The sidewalks were crowded. When Adam had first arrived in New York, he'd honestly believed that the city was designed to confuse tourists and newcomers. There were so many streets and alleys, so many ways Blake could have gone. But Adam continued going straight ahead. Please, Blake! Please, let me find you!

The city swirled around him, oblivious to what he was thinking or feeling. Buildings loomed overhead, casting a perpetual shadow on those below. The wind whirled and eddied, broken by the buildings. It picked up bits of rubbish in the streets, tossing it about in little whirlwinds of debris that rose up like birds on wing, only to fall once more and be trampled. The flow of people on the sidewalk never ended. Like a continuing river, nameless people passed Adam in the street, each lost in his or her own world, paying no attention to the lonely stranger or his frantic search.

Adam came to a dead end and looked around, desperate. The city filled his senses with confusion. He could hear the chatter of conversation, scattered bits of music, horns, engines, and the sound of heavy equipment from construction from down the street. The air was ripe with the cooking smells from various restaurants he passed. For a moment, the smell of food would cover the scent of exhaust and pavement and motor oil, mixed with the unavoidable aroma of too many people living closely together. Sometimes, the food smells from competing restaurants mixed together to create something mouthwatering. Usually, it just clashed. A couple pushed past him, babbling together in a foreign tongue. Adam turned in a slow circle, jostled and bumped by people going by, scanning for a tall figure among the masses.

But he saw no sign of Blake.

The air quickly grew chill. Adam zipped up his jacket, glad he'd had the presence of mind to grab it on the way out. But what about Blake? All he had on over his flannel shirt was a faded jean jacket. Was he cold? Had he ducked into a shop for warmth? As he hadn't eaten anything all day, surely the big man was hungry. But Blake had no wallet, no money. He was illiterate and couldn't really count past ten. Even if Blake had a wallet full of cash, would he understand how to buy food? Would he know where or how to seek shelter for the night?

Somehow, Adam didn't think so.

But now he had a problem. The sidewalk he'd been following, the straightest path from his apartment, suddenly came to an end as the entire street was closed off for construction. Adam could turn left or right, but couldn't go straight ahead. Which path did Blake choose? Picking the correct path could bring him closer to the missing man. But choosing poorly would only take him farther away.

Flashing lights to his right drew his eye. Adam turned in that direction. It was as good as any other.

The flashing lights turned out to be an ambulance and police cars. A figure was on a gurney, about to be loaded into an ambulance. Adam saw cowboy boots sticking out over the bottom of the gurney from the man's long legs, a head of gunmetal hair... Blake!

"Blake! Wait!" Adam yelled, bolting for the ambulance. But as he approached, he caught sight of the man's face. The man, it appeared, had been in quite the scrap. His face was swollen, battered, bruised and bloody. But it wasn't Blake. Adam breathed a sigh of relief, even as his anxiety returned. If that wasn't Blake on the gurney, then where was he?