Gunnar had an okay time sleeping until the only standing bed in the rundown house turned into a brothel.
"For Christ's sake!" he cried out as the bed continued to rock.
"Go in my jeans pocket bro," Rob said.
Gunnar grimaced. "Ya can wrap your own shit. I ain't getting ya a rubber." He stood up and got out of the bed in a hurry.
"I scored a-" Rob's voice broke off with a moan, "good dime bag from Xavier."
"Oh yeah?" He shoved his hands in his jean pockets, feeling the reassuring cool metal of his pocket knife. "Is that why you came back empty handed for food again?"
"Relax bro, I'll find us some food in the morning. You're so wound up. Just smoke a little to bring you back down."
Gunnar stormed off to the balcony and slammed the door behind him. He had to get out of here fast; he wasn't stupid enough to get weighed down by a couple of deadbeats. His whole life up to now had been making up for other people's problems that they were too blind to see. Drugs and alcohol dug graves as fast as the infection did nowadays.
Rob helped through a rough patch or two back in the day, but friendship didn't mean anything when he needed to survive. Soon enough his pothead roommate would figure that out, or he'd drink himself dry.
Gunnar went down to the main floor, ignoring the end of their bang session. He snagged a couple bottles of water, cans of vegetables and the stale rolls to shove in his bag. It was his food after all. Rob had done nothing to help.
Leaving the living room, he spotted the two corpses half obscured by a grand piano. He imagined the winds had thrown the giant instrument through the air. They would have been crushed against the wall by their own wealth. It was a good thing Rob's family was too musically challenged to own a hunk of wood like that. Or else, Gunnar just might have had the same fate. He swung the door open and took to the streets, only lit up by trashcan fires and the stars.
Running through the streets, his feet kicked up flakes of mud, caked on during the rainstorm. He wasn't sure if he could call it rain anymore; it felt like someone had emptied a whole damn swimming pool on his body. But water wouldn't stop him, nor would wind or sinkholes. He needed escape and he would run the streets until the result was his again.
He couldn't look back now. Rob and Vita were just a part of the beginning of this new life. He didn't need them, their company or their pity. Strong men walked alone; they stood tall when life got real hard. He wasn't going let those two nut jobs bring him down. Progress meant avoiding mistakes he had already made.
Cheers from a small group echoed through the light patter of the rain. Loads of drunks roamed the street at this hour and Gunnar shoved past them all. The feat only required the threat of a blade a few times. He rounded the corner and darted into a dingy minimart. The fully stocked water section caught his eyes. He stepped past the busted up glass where the liquor used to be. Lot of good that'll do you out in the world. His mother had thought it would be a good solution, boozing away her years left with him and his sister Aida. Only the weak used liquid or powdered escapes; he was better than that.
His dead cell phone weighed heavy in his pocket as he thought of Aida. Weeks ago, her call was a complete mess of crying and screaming as she had to watch their mom bleed out. He tried to fight the memory, but it washed over him again like the dollar machines in the basement of his old apartment building.
"Gunnar," she cried into the phone.
"Aida, where are you? Are you safe?" His eyes shot around Rob's porch. as he watched the winds tear at the limbs of the trees.
"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.