Charity Case

Start "So stupid"

Eyes locked with the popcorn ceiling and in too much pain to move, it was unclear if the woman in the bed was talking to herself or the cloth covered mound of grief huddled over her bedside.

"They took the locket you gave me."

"I don't care about the locket."

The mound speaks, a middle aged African American man in his mid 20s, with clear signs that rough times had aged him considerably, although none before will affect him as dramatically as this.

"They were… punks. Kids. I could have taken them but… I couldn't get what you've been saying out my head."

Dirty rooms where common place in the times we were in. Few stayed in one place but there were still standards when it came to medical needs. When it came to the sick or the dying, people took the effort to create clean rooms. At least when it came to making someone who was cared about comfortable.

When it came to the current bedridden resident all of the emminities in the world couldn't make having a bullet lodged in your side more comfortable. Just give you less to complain about. If you somehow got bored of complaining about the bullet.

The woman laying in the bed, while slimmer and shorter than the man, was similarly aged and yet appeared at a glance to be the tough one of the two.

"You're right. I think. It… sucks. What all of… this. Has turned us into. We were better. We could still be better. If people like me weren't holding us back… hey."

A request for attention cut through all lingering thoughts of impending loneliness like a knife. His gaze lifts to meet hers.

"Don't let this change you." The woman settles down and starts to fall asleep. The man blinks and sees her again, this time swarmed by a fog of warm colors and knows that despite not being gone yet, it'll be the last thing she'll say.

It's years later now and the man is alone. But it's not a depressed loneliness. He's sitting laid back, hands behind his head, listening to music blaring from am old mp3 player. He's relaxed. Too relaxed to notice the figures that have crept up behind him. One points the muzzle of a gun inches away from his face.

The man looks at the barrel, then to the boy pointing it at him, then to the second boy. He flips his headphones from his ears with a finger.

"What's up fellas?"

"Hands up."

Shoulder height was all the man had energy for. As he does he looks the boys up and down and eyes a familiar looking heart shaped locket on the boy pointing the gun on him.

The boys check his pockets, finding nothing.

"You got any supplies?"

"I got some lunches in the cooler and-"

"We'll take those."

The man points to the mini fridge in the corner of the room. They both break eye contact with the man to glance at the fridge, missing the reactive wince from how fatal a mistake that would have been if he were a different type of person. The man blinks, his eyes turning purple and he can tell the boys are both hungry and seem terrified of him but it's a terror they’re used to managing. As if they feel it every time they meet another person.

The boys realize their mistake simultaneously only to lock eyes with the man position and face unchanged. One heads to the cooler while the other keeps the gun trained on the man.

"You all need supplies? I got fire starter kits and some water filters too."

The boys were becoming increasingly frustrated that they hadn't managed to instill fear in the man. Despite giving them all they had requested he was keeping his composure, as if he were in control of the situation. And if you weren't the one in control of the situation you were the one in danger.

"Don't you understand what's going on, man? We're robbing you!"

The boy jabs the air with the pistol, rattling his thin frame and jostling the piece of jewelry around his chest. The man takes a brief glance at it again before regaining eye contact.

"No you're not."

"The hell you mean we're not? See this gun? See us taking all your shit? The hell we're not!"

".... guys. This is a charity. This stuff is free. Take what you need."

The boys pause everything trying to process the man's words. It'd been so long since they'd heard the words "free" and "charity" used non-ironically that the very meaning had changed to them and they were initially confused by what he had meant. Clearly he meant to say that this wasn't a charity before a rain of bullets pelted them. Or that nothing in life was free before trapping them in a big net and selling them off to slavery. But none of these things happened and they were left to just sit there and reevaluate the meaning of free and charity.

This pause gave the man another glance at the pendant. Same one, for sure. And there's no way he would be wearing it if he hadn't earned it. A trophy from getting one over on someone famous.

"We don't need no charity."

"Then put the sandwiches back?"

They were not going to put the sandwiches back. But couldn't argue with the logic either. The boy holding all of the sandwiches changes the subject.

"How you got so much food you can afford to just give it away?"

"We got a community of folks down the road. Got people who farm, raise animals. Stuff like that. Some beds to sleep in if ya need em. We could find some work for you if you want."

Sandwich boy pipes up.

"Yall need some guys on guard duty?"

The man doesn’t literally say the words "If I had a nickel for everytime someone asked me that I'd be a millionaire" but the elegant combination of eye rolling, head tilting and exasperated sighing sent the message just as well as the exact verbal expression and in a quarter of the time.

"No. We've got enough people running security. What we could use is people who can sew or maintain what machines we got running. Electricians and plumbers and stuff like that."

"We don't know how to do none of that."

"We got people who can teach you. Are we done with the gun yet? Come on guys I ain't about to be shot in the head over some turkey sandwiches and matches. You know gunshots attract them, right?"

The boy with the locket lowers the gun but doesn't put it away.

"So what you guys just… all get together sharing and caring and stuff?"

"It's the bedrock of civilization."

The boys look toward each other and back to the man.

Sitting a ways away a woman with short hair eyes the checkpoint with her sniper scope. She spots the boys coming out, slightly heavier with sandwiches and supplies, followed by the man who sees them off at the door.

She sees him wave goodbye to the boys and lifts up a walkie talkie.

"Aye Jamie. Couldn't get them to come back to the town?"

She sees him take out his own radio and lift it to his mouth.

"Naw but hopefully they'll be back. They look like roast beef type of guys so maybe once we switch the meat out we'll get em"

"Ha. Ya know there's way more useful mutations out there but yours isn't too bad. Those kids were looking rough I was ready to put a bullet in both of them on sight."

The first boy with the gun turns around, giving Jamie one last look at the heart shaped pendant around his neck.

"...Naw, it's cool. They're fine. You can relax next time they come back."