Here's the latest installment of my current dark scifi project. This is chapter 6. If you're just tuning in, consider starting with chapters 1 and 2. Be advised that this work considers difficult subjects, including suicide. If you're in crisis, please seek help. Help is available here.
Since 321, the news had become unceasingly dramatic. Today it was an attempted drone attack on the President, which was blamed on Russia despite it being a modified US military drone. There was also a terrorist attack that was thwarted by a hero cop in Danbury, Connecticut. And a fistfight that had broken out between various state representatives at a charity event.
Alone in her new used car, Anabelle shrugged and pulled into the underground lot of her new apartment building. Her recent past had been a whirlwind of activity, with Bonnie there every step of the way to help her through what had become a great transformation. First, Bonnie had helped her make a video about Pastor Jeff, which was then sent to every member of his church's congregation. Then Bonnie had helped Anabelle find a studio apartment in DC, giving her enough money for a year's rent and co-signing the lease.
Now, having helped Anabelle move in, Bonnie was headed back to Arkansas, leaving Anabelle feeling freer than she'd ever felt before. She was free, but she'd made a promise to Bonnie to stay off of the liquor, which scared her more than being in a new city and not knowing anybody. After parking her car, Anabelle didn't head up to her unfurnished room. Excited to explore her new surroundings, she left the garage and took a walk.
After a block, a man in a pressed blue shirt stopped on the sidewalk to talk. "Nice dress," he said. "But it would look better crumpled up at the foot of my bed."
"You talk to all women that way or just the ones young enough to be your daughter?" Anabelle replied, grinning.
"Sorry," said the man, frowning. "I ... I don't know what came over me."
Continuing on her way, Anabelle was repeatedly asked for money by beggars that seemed to be stationed about fifty feet from each other throughout the entirety of the city. There are more of them on one block than there were people in the town I grew up in, she reflected. Making random turns, she got lost on purpose and then found a park that she remembered seeing on a map. Brickle Park. It was a stupid name that was also kind of cute.
In the park, here and there, were people playing chess. Anabelle had always had a knack for the game and suddenly wanted to play. She walked up to a table where two men were taking turns making moves and hitting a clock. Having only seen such clocks in movies, Anabelle was fascinated. "Twenty bucks says I can take the winner," she declared.
"Easy money," said one player with a thick Eastern European accent.
"Check mate," said the other player with an unidentifiable accent after moving his bishop. "Sit, little girl, and let me take your money. We do five minutes."
Although she lost quickly, Anabelle found the game fun and engaging.
"Nice try, little girl," said Anabelle's opponent, accepting his winnings. "Come back any time with more money for me."
"See you soon!" said Anabelle brightly. Then she caught sight of the man in the pressed blue shirt and her face fell. "That fucking guy," she muttered, feeling a sudden and irrational fear. "What, did he follow me here?"
"Someone giving you trouble?" asked the chess player. "No one messes with you. You are my new cash cow! Which one is he?"
"It's just a guy who said something gross to me on the street," said Anabelle. "Probably nothing to worry about. He's the one in the blue shirt, talking to the couple on that bench over there."
"That one?" said the chess player. "He comes every few days to buy the drugs. If he's bothering you, you tell him that Victor has cut him off for bad behavior. He may work in the White House, but in Brickle Park, I make the rules. Go tell him right now, to make sure he's not following you."
"Thanks, but it's really no big deal," said Anabelle, reigning in her fear like Bonnie had taught her, by focusing on breath and the raw information coming through her senses. "Some people are just sleazy. But you'll be seeing me tomorrow, when I win my money back."
"We'll see," said Victor, his smile revealing several gold teeth.
Leaving the park, heading towards home, Anabelle needed a bathroom. Entering a random storefront, she encountered an open space with a large pile of stuff piled in its center and people in yellow shirts going through it. Behind this was a desk at which a woman stood, talking on the phone. Anabelle thought about turning around, but she really had to go, so she headed in that direction. "Excuse me," she said. "May I use your restroom?"
The woman pointed to a hallway and Anabelle found relief. When she was done, the woman at the desk was no longer on the phone. "So what is it you do here anyway?" Anabelle asked.
"We're opening a pay what you can afford thrift store," said the woman. "Part of a nonprofit so we're donor funded."
"I don't really know what that means but okay," said Anabelle. "You know, I just moved here and I'm good at sorting out old junk. In case you're hiring."
"What's your name?" asked the woman.
"Anabelle Jenkins, ma'am," said Anabelle.
"I'm Lisa but everybody calls me Hoot," said Hoot. "Can you lift forty pounds and use a computer?"
"Yes I can," said Anabelle, grinning at a prospect of the new job.
"I can start you at twenty-seven an hour tomorrow," said Hoot. "Be here at nine."
Anabelle couldn't believe her luck. The place was walking distance from her apartment and the pay was a fortune compared with wages back in Arkansas. Not that she'd ever get hired anywhere near her hometown after her Pastor Jeff video. "Oh my god thank you," she stammered.
"Just show up on time and sober and this'll work out," said Hoot.
Stopping for meat pies sold out of a food truck, Anabelle ate sitting on her new stoop. A minute later, a young man came out of the building and sat down next to her. "Hope you don't mind," he said, lighting a thin cigar.
"Smells good," said Anabelle. "I'm Anabelle."
"Ray," said Ray. "Tell me, Anabelle, what's your biggest dream?"
"I've never told anyone this," said Anabelle between bites. "But I want to be a singer. Like with a band. I want to be a star."
"You should do it," said Ray. "I make sick beats if you need beats."
"Yeah?" said Anabelle. "Can you play one on your phone?"
"Okay, but then you gotta sing to it," said Ray.
(Feature image from Pixabay.)
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