Sui Generis – 2

 

As Brand moved down the alley, looking for a likely rooftop, he heard someone call his name. Turning, he smiled slightly at the middle-aged man coming toward him. He and John had become friends of a sort when their paths had crossed at a now defunct local shelter. They'd spent a few early evenings panhandling on the Mall then bedded down at the shelter, if there was room. When there wasn't, they'd find a safe place in some alley or down by the creek. John had considered himself Brand's protector, probably because he stood several inches taller than Brand's five-ten. Not that Brand needed a guardian—but he never said that to John. At that point in time, he was happy to have John's company. 

"Hey, kid, I swear you don't look a day older than the last time I saw you," John said, giving Brand clap on the shoulder before stepping back.

"I could say the same about you," Brand retorted, eyeing him.

John snorted. "A nice lie, but I'll take it. So what you been up?"

Brand shrugged. "Not much. You?"

"Same old, same old, kid. Keeping it together best as I can since my brief stint in jail."

"I heard about that. Sorry, man."

John waved his hand in dismissal. "A bed, three squares a day… made it almost worth it. Still…" He looked up and down the alley. "Guess the cops haven't been down this one yet tonight."

"They have," a voice piped up from behind a dumpster. "Came, kicked us out, but we're back." A girl about sixteen, if that, came out to stand in front of John and Brand. "Should be safe enough now, if you're looking for a place to crash." She grinned, introducing herself as Doll. "Too few of them, too many of us. It's a losing battle for the cops once it gets dark."

"Still, be careful, Doll. They see you too many times, they're gonna stop giving warnings and jail your pretty little self," John said.

"Yeah, I know. But I'm…"

Brand had moved away as the two were talking, so he missed the last of what she was saying. He liked John, but had other things he needed to be doing and having the man hanging around with him would make it that much harder.

Scurrying farther away, Brand slipped into an unlit doorway, pulling back into the shadows. John walked by a minute later, still chatting with the girl. Brand wondered if he was even aware it was just the two of them now. Probably not.

Inching forward, he watched the pair turn the corner out of the alley onto Eighteenth. Then, spotting a dumpster next to a convenient fire escape, Brand leapt onto it and from there made his way to the roof of what he knew was a restaurant popular with the baseball fans. He sprawled on his stomach, looking over the edge, watching as a pair of street kids sidled in off the street. They were obviously keeping a weather-eye open for the cops or trouble from anyone who had already taken up residence for the night. 

An hour passed. Things quieted down as the people who had come downtown for the Fourth of July fireworks made their way to the parking lots and from there, home. No cops visited the alley. Those stragglers looking for a place to spend the night moved on when they realized all the viable spots had been taken. One man came up to the roof, saw Brand and beat a hasty retreat when Brand scowled at him.

Best that you do. Brand smiled darkly as he continued his surveillance.

Forty minutes later he spotted his prey. A tall, blond man came into the dark alley. He was dressed in slacks, a dark blue shirt, and a battered leather jacket. The build, the pale blond hair… The man's head turned right and left as he surveyed the area, the streetlamp highlighting his features for a moment.

It's him.

Brand kept his gaze locked on Fedor while he reached for his backpack. When his knee came down hard on a sharp bit of debris, he hissed softly in momentary pain.

Fedor must have heard him because he looked up. His thin, aristocratic lips curved in a grisly smile as he started toward the fire escape.

Suddenly, the headlights of a police cruiser flooded the area when it pulled into the alley. For a moment Fedor froze, then, giving Brand a mocking salute, he turned, walked swiftly to the corner and vanished from sight.

Seconds later, backpack in hand, Brand was jumping from the bottom rung of the fire escape to the alley floor. Ignoring an officer's orders to stay where he was, he raced to the street but it was too late. Fedor was nowhere to be seen. Not that it surprised Brand all that much. The man was as slippery as an eel, as Brand's mother used to put it. Most predators were and Fedor was on the top of the food chain when it came to preying on the innocent and not so innocent.

With a sigh of disgust, Brand hoisted his pack over one shoulder and continued his search. It was close to dawn when he finally gave up and headed back home. Tomorrow is another night, to paraphrase some movie line.

Sui Generis – 1

 

(This story was previously published, twice, over ten years ago. Both publishers are now out of business.)

Brandon 'Brand' Huxley whirled around when he heard footsteps behind him. A man stood at the top of the fire escape on the far end of the roof, silhouetted by the ambient city lights. Given that Brand was wearing tattered jeans and a well-worn, sleeveless black T-shirt, he had the feeling he knew what the man was and why he was there.

"Move it, kid. It's illegal to sleep or store personal possessions on public or private property without permission. I'd really hate to have to arrest you."

Hissing in a breath between his teeth, Brand nodded. "I know, officer. I was just enjoying the view." He pointed to the flare of a firework as it lit the night sky.

"Uh-huh. Well enjoy it somewhere else. Okay?"

The officer stood there, obviously waiting for Brand to get moving. So Brand did, hiking his battered backpack over his shoulder then walking quickly past the cop and climbing down to the alley.

"Psst."

Brand looked around, spotting a kid about fifteen, maybe sixteen, peering at him from between two dumpsters. Brand held up one finger, pointed to the cop who was on his way down the fire escape, and then touched his lips to warn the kid to be quiet.

Moments later, the officer walked by Brand, saying, "Find a shelter. It's your best bet. That or hike it out of the city."

Brand nodded, resisting the urge to tell him the shelters were always full. He was certain the officer knew that.

When the man was out of sight around the corner, the kid stepped into view. "I know a safe place," he said.

"Thanks, but so do I. I was just having a little R&R up there watching the fireworks." Brand pointed to the roof of the building.

The kid shrugged and wandered away, calling back over his shoulder. "Don't say I didn't offer."

Brand chuckled. "I won't," he muttered, while going down the alley in the opposite direction.

Five minutes later he was on another rooftop. From his vantage point, he had a clear view of the alley running off in either direction between Fourteenth and Twenty-second. A pair of bicycle cops came down it, checking darkened doorways and around dumpsters, shooing off any transients they found. That didn't sit well with Brand. Not because of why they were doing it, although he found the law repressive at best. Even the homeless had the right to find somewhere to sleep, if they could—like the rooftop he was on at the moment. He pulled back as the cops got closer, not wanting to be rousted again.

When they had passed, he checked the alley one more time, cursing the cops under his breath for clearing it of its human denizens. "Go after the rats and the stray dogs," he muttered. "They're more dangerous than a street kid or a man who's lost his job and his home."

He chuckled softly. "Maybe I should get a job as a homeless advocate, handing out food and advice to those who need it. God only knows I'm out on the streets every night myself. Might as well do something useful while I'm looking for Fedor." He pondered that idea for all of a minute. No, I need my freedom to move around when and where I have to. I'll never find him otherwise.

Resting his hands on the low parapet at the back of the roof, he leaned over again, his gaze searching the length of the alley. The bright flash of another firework eerily lit it up in shades of green and blue. It was—as far as Brand could see—empty, except for the ubiquitous mangy dog sniffing around a dumpster two blocks down. 

Time to move on. Fedor's not going to come down here. Not when he'd be the only person in the alley, thanks to the cops. I'd see him before he saw me. That is not his intention, I'm sure.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulders, Brand made short work of getting off the roof. From there he moved to the alley between Lawrence and Larimer. It was quickly apparent the police had been along it as well, so he kept going. Three blocks later he found an alley that had either been missed in the cops' sweep, or where the people who regularly used it as their 'home' had returned once the cops were well away from the area.