Here's the latest installment of my current dark scifi project. This is chapter 12. 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.
A blue sedan had started following Horace wherever he went. With classes still canceled due to teacher unrest, he attended more and more Strike 25 events, where he was treated like a celebrity, which made Domonique nervous. The strike had inspired a movement, and that movement had dug its heels in for a long fight. The opposing landlord coalition had brought the National Guard into eviction enforcement in several states, Illinois included, but the courts were so clogged that this coalition made little headway on speeding up the eviction process. In most major cities, it took up to six months for a landlord to secure a court ruling evicting a tenant for nonpayment of rent. To Strike 25, the moment felt like a stalemate.
Horace and Domonique were supposed to be paying two thousand a month for their one bedroom apartment, but Strike 25 had them paying half of that, as their combined income was just under four thousand. Ben Benson, their landlord, owned several buildings in Chicago. He did everything through a property management company and rarely met his tenants. But after seeing Horace on tv at a Strike 25 rally, he showed up at their apartment with two other guys, one carrying a baseball bat.
The landlord didn't knock. He had a key. Entering the small apartment, he found Horace at his computer on the couch and Domonique playing solitaire at a small table by the window. "What the fuck?" she shouted. "Horace, the gun!"
"Who the fuck are you?" demanded Horace, pulling a shotgun from next to the couch.
"Ben Benson," said Ben. "I'm the guy you're ripping off with this little strike. I own this place."
"You're gonna be the guy with no head if you don't get the fuck out of here," said Domonique.
"Stay cool, Mr Gomez," said Ben. "I'm just here to talk."
"Yeah, your goon with the bat looks real talkative," said Domonique.
"My associates are prepared for things to get ugly, but it doesn't have to go that way," said Ben. "Believe it or not, I came here with an offer that I think you'll want to hear."
"What's the offer?" asked Horace.
"The short version is that I want in on Strike 25," said Ben. "Between the short rents and the lawyers, I'm bleeding money. If you can make the bleeding stop, I'll come out in support of the Strike."
"So ... you're going to reduce the rents?" asked Horace.
Ben laughed. "Not exactly," he said. "What I'm thinking is to start with going back to the way it used to be. Firing the property management company and hiring someone from each building to be the super in exchange for free rent. For this building, I was thinking you'd make a great super, since everyone already knows you."
"Okay, but what about everyone else?" asked Horace.
"I can't reduce rents, but I could promise no rent increases for five years," said Ben. "But if I do that, I'd want to announce it at a press conference, surrounded by your people cheering me on. See, you might not know it, but I'm one of the good guys in all of this."
"Strike 25 will never go for that," said Domonique.
"Inside of a year, you'll all be out on the street and no one will ever rent to you again," said Ben. "Everyone loses in that scenario. What I'm offering is an alternative."
"I guess we could have a meeting about it," said Horace. "But I'll tell you right now, five years probably won't be enough. Ten would be better. And the movement will probably ask for other concessions."
"See, I knew you were more reasonable than everyone said you were," said Ben. "Set up the meet."
Once Ben and his goons had left, Horace took a deep breath and placed the shotgun back in its place with trembling hands. Domonique joined him on the couch and they sat there in silence for a long time. "Think he knew the gun wasn't loaded?" she asked finally.
"I thought it was loaded," said Horace, feeling nauseous. "If they made a move, I was ready to shoot. Fuck. Fuck! Why can't I just study engineering and get a regular job and have everything be okay?"
"You did great," said Domonique, hugging him. "You know, this could actually turn out to be a good thing. Bringing him to the table."
"Yeah, but how many Strike organizers do you think would even sit down with him?" asked Horace. "To them, he'll just be the enemy."
"So make some calls and see what happens," said Domonique.
A few days later, surrounded by Strike 25 activists, Ben Benson announced several major changes to his buildings' policies. He credited Horace with showing him the error of his ways, and described property managers, financial services companies, insurance companies, lawyers, crooked contractors, and City Hall as the true enemy of renters feeling the squeeze from high rents. "When I inherited this business from my father, I promised to always do right by people," Ben said at the end of his brief speech. "Today, I'll make you a new promise. I promise to always put my tenants first, no matter how many greedy middlemen come at me with their hands out for a piece of your rent."
Within a week, dozens of landlords followed Ben's lead by making substantive concessions to their tenants to end the Strike. The Chicago Post ran the story with the headline 'Small Landlords Break Strike.' No one was entirely happy with the deals being struck, but the Strike 25 leadership counted these developments as victories. The movement as a whole was more skeptical.
A major faction of Strike 25 was against any agreement with landlords that didn't include rent reductions. This faction favored a total rent strike and the organized squatting of unused properties. Five people in this group followed Horace one night as he left an organization meeting. "Hey sellout!" one of them yelled when they were half a block from where the meeting had taken place.
Horace stopped, turning to face the group, sensing what was about to happen. "Hey guys," he said. "I'm not trying to talk movement business without everybody around."
"Heard you got free rent in exchange for giving Ben Benson good PR," said the small group's leader.
"You're about to find out what that'll cost you," said another member of the group, punching Horace hard enough to knock him back into a wall.
As Horace recovered his bearings, he heard squealing tires and saw a blue sedan jump the curb to stop on the sidewalk. The passenger door opened and a shout came from it. "FBI!" came a commanding voice. "Hit him again and I start shooting!"
"Fuck," said Horace.
"Hey, we're all friends here," said the group leader. "Just having some fun is all."
"Well, go have your fun somewhere else," said the agent with his gun drawn. "Mr Gomez and I need to have a little chat."
(Feature image from Pixabay.)
Read my novels:
See my NFTs:
