My Brother’s Keeper- 1

“Why are we doing this again?” Melodie looked at her boyfriend as if he was totally out of his mind.

“Because Mr. Moore wants us to take photos of something relevant to what works and doesn’t work in the city,” Tad told her for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the last few hours.

“And this,” she swept her arm around to encompass the empty alley below them, “is relevant to what?”

“Shush up and wait,” he muttered as he rested his elbows on the roof’s low brick parapet. He pointed his camera down one more time to make certain the settings were what he needed.

“Don’t you tell me to shush up, mister,” Melodie replied petulantly.

Angrily, he put a finger to his lips when he saw movement from the entrance to the alley. As they watched, two poorly dressed young men, one who appeared to be eighteen or nineteen, the other a couple of years younger, came into view. The older one held up his hand and then pointed to one of the dumpsters that sat behind a restaurant.

Tad could hear the younger one whisper, his words carrying in the clear night air, “Are you sure they’re not hiding somewhere?”

The older one nodded emphatically but when Tad focused his camera in on his face he could see that he wasn’t as certain as he tried to appear. Tad followed them with his camera, taking pictures as they made their way to the dumpster. Moments later they had the top open and were digging through the restaurant garbage. Tad took a shot of one of them lifting out a half-eaten roll with one hand to devour it, while still searching through the dregs of food with his other hand.

Several minutes passed as the young men accumulated the best of the thrown out food, which they put into a paper sack one of them had set on the ground between them.

Melodie, bored and restless, began playing with Tad’s hair in hopes of distracting him. Tad hissed under his breath as he moved away. He aimed the camera back down, intent on snapping off a few more shots before the young men left. As he did he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned the camera towards the far end of the alley. Three boys, all in their late teens, stood there. Each of them held some sort of weapon, a pipe, a baseball bat, a short length of lumber. As they began creeping quietly towards their intended prey Tad clicked off two pictures.

The two young men were so intent on getting the last of what might be edible out of the dumpster that they were oblivious to what was about to happen. Tad leaned over the parapet and shouted, “Run!”

The young men didn’t even hesitate. The older one grabbed the sack and they took off like the hounds of Hell were after them. The three teens hesitated momentarily, looking up at Tad standing three stories above them. One of them shouted, “You’re dead, man,” as they took off after their intended victims.

Tad sighed in relief when he realized that his warning had given the pair the head start they needed to get out of the alley onto the street. Even though it was late, there was enough traffic, foot and car, that Tad thought they would be safe from their pursuers. Apparently the punks felt the same way. They pulled to a stop at the alley entrance, their angry voices wafting up to where Tad still stood. With one menacing look up at him, they turned tail and ran back the way they’d come.