The Shelter
By SunHi Mistwalker
Copyright © 2011
www.sunhimistwalker.com
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the author.
Cover art created using a Flickr creative commons attribution license.
Image by cgaphoto.
Published by Dark Tales Great Lives, LLC
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Ten-year-old Sunni Brown lies upside down on a tweed couch with her head hanging over the side and her feet thrust into the air. Wearing pink ballet slippers and a white tutu, she flutters her pointed toes through the five positions. A television blares a short distance away and a dust covered fan blows lukewarm air across the girl’s face.
“Food riots have broken out for the second time this week,” the newscaster announces, but Sunni doesn’t pay much attention. Her ears strain to hear another conversation only a few feet away.
Shannon, a slender woman in her early thirties with dark red hair and an anxious, demeanor paces the kitchen floor. “He thinks he better than us, is that why he den’ went and disappeared?” she shouts into the phone. “Well you tell that bastard….”
Sunni listens briefly and then shuts out Shannon’s words. Discussions of her father always have a way of making her feel bad. If her father is a bastard, loser, cocksucker and a good-for-nothing like her mother insists he is, then what does that make her?
“Five more people have died in this week’s heat wave,” the newscaster says.
Sunni freezes her feet at the second position. Still topsy-turvy she reaches for the remote and flicks through the channels, finally settling on a cartoon. She resumes her ballet exercises as she watches the upside down images flicker across the television screen.
There’s a loud banging noise at the door. Sunni’s fluttering stops at fifth position. She spins herself upright and peers over the back of the couch. The curtains are closed to keep the hot sun from invading the apartment; but Sunni can still make out the silhouettes of several people just on the other side.
As Shannon lowers the phone and slowly makes her way to the living room, a squeaky voice on the other end of the line continues to ramble, oblivious to the distraction. Shannon snaps her fingers at Sunni and motions for her to turn off the television. The girl obeys, fumbling for the remote. But through her fright she fails to turn it off and instead turns the volume full blast.
The banging continues, this time louder and more aggressive. Shannon rushes the couch and snatches the remote from the girl’s hand. Silencing the television, she flings the remote to the floor and returns her wild, fearful eyes to the door. Creeping closer to the apartment’s entrance, Shannon tries to discern the identity of the figures on the other side. But before she can formulate a theory the banging intensifies, this time on the door and windows.
“It’s the sheriff! Open up!” a male voice shouts from the other side.
It’s happening, it’s really happening, Sunni fears as she bolts from the couch and sprints down the hall.
There is a loud thud and the apartment door strains on its hinges. Shannon drops the phone and begins to back away.
“Hello? Hello?” the voice on the other end of the line pleads.
Another thud. The door’s frame begins to splinter.
Shannon runs into the kitchen and yanks open a drawer.
A sharp deafening crash and the door’s locks loosen.
Shannon rifles through the kitchen drawer in a frenzied panic.
A loud smash bang and the door blasts open, spilling four burly men and a rush of hot air into the living room.
“Get the hell out of my house!” Shannon flashes a butcher knife, her face covered in sweat and her eyes feral and desperate.
His pistol drawn and pointed in Shannon’s direction, the sheriff wears a tired expression, “Don’t make this hard Ms. Brown.” His cautious forward movements mirror those of a battle worn soldier. And it is like war, the endless jobs, desperate people and hopeless situations have all conspired to rob him of his vitality. Three sentinels hover nearby, but not too near, lest they get caught in the crossfire.
“Start with the big stuff first…we ain’t hauling nothing today. This is a curb job,” the sheriff barks his orders to the men while keeping his eye on Shannon.
“They said I had till the end of the month!” Shannon argues feebly.
Two men lift the couch while another unplugs the television. The sheriff continues his slow, careful advance while his sentinels quickly move the furniture to the curbside where they sit it out like so much trash. “Put the knife down… ain’t no good going to come of it,” the sheriff says.
A towering man with long shaggy hair and a rigid posture makes a beeline towards the bedroom door. Shannon rushes him with her blade, her lips strained into a snarl, “Get the hell…,” she grunts. But the sheriff stops her. Hooking her arm and slamming her to the floor, he shakes the weapon from her hand. Shannon lets out a painful cry as she is rolled onto her stomach and cuffed.
“It didn’t have to be like this,” the sheriff grumbles as he yanks Shannon into a sitting position and shoves her against the wall.
“Don’t want them touching my stuff!” Shannon protests as men continue to remove her belongings from the apartment.
Only slightly rattled by the commotion, the tall man wipes his sweaty palms on his blue jean jumper. And with a deep breath and a forceful huff he disappears into the bedroom. He makes a quick visual inventory of the room. “Got two beds back here, gonna need a bit of help,” he yells back to the living room as he opens the closet door. Hanging pants and dresses cascade over Sunni’s head as she stands in the closet hiding her face behind her hands.
The tall man’s shaggy hair frames his toothy grin as he peers down at the girl. “Now look at what we got here,” he says as he pushes back the cascade of clothing.
But Sunni doesn’t move, she squeezes her eyes tight and clutches her face as if doing so will make her invisible.
The tall man kneels and softens his voice, “You a ballerina?” he asks her.
Sunni doesn’t answer; instead her hands begin to shake uncontrollably. The tall man’s thick fingers gently pull at the girl’s hands, “My little girl a ballerina too,” he tells her as she slowly opens her eyes.
“She is?” Her voice is hesitant but curious.
“Yep,” the tall man nods. “Well? You gonna show me a little dance?”
Sunni’s attention shifts to the door as she hears her mother’s voice; but the tall man nudges her chin so that her gaze is on him again.
Sunni smiles and nods eagerly, “Okay…” she places her feet into first position and then flutters though all five. Sunni beams with nervous pride at the conclusion of her brief performance.
The tall man chuckles, “You just as good as my little girl is.” But then he puts on a mock serious expression and presses his index finger to his lips, “Shh…that be our little secret, alright?”
Sunni grins wide and once again nods eagerly. Like a drug, the man’s approval soothes her fears. The father of a ballerina can’t be so bad. The tall man cups the girl’s hand into his own and leads her into the living room. Still bound on the floor, Shannon’s fury is aroused when she sees them hand-in-hand. She thrusts her torso towards Sunni, “Get your butt over here…now!” Sunni’s instinct is to obey. She tries to pull away from the tall man; but he squeezes her hand tighter. It’s impossible to leave his side. With a gentle tug, the tall man redirects Sunni
towards the front door and they step into the searing afternoon sun.
Shannon sucks her teeth with indignation at her own lack of power. The sheriff pulls her to her feet, “Don’t you worry about her now. We all just going right out here.” He leads her out the door and to the curbside where human vultures plunder her personal belongings.
Sunni watches helplessly as the looters pick over her possessions. She squeezes the tall man’s hand as her mother becomes increasingly agitated.
“Stop it!” Shannon yells at the looters, her hands still bound behind her back. She gives the sheriff a pleading looking, “Do something!”
The sheriff can barely look Shannon in the eye. He offers only a sympathetic glance as he uncuffs the woman, “Sorry ma’am that ain’t my job…can’t do nothing about it.” He turns and heads back into the apartment.
Shannon rubs her wrists and launches into a verbal battle with the looters.
The tall man glares at the pillaging. He depends on good pickings to supplement his income; but it doesn’t look like there are going to be good pickings today. He hooks his hands into Sunni’s armpits and hoists her onto the lid of a trashcan. Sunni interprets his actions as protective. It reminds her of her own father; but when the tall man begins to remove her ballet slippers she looks confused. “I don’t want to take them off.” Sunni pulls her feet away.
“These shoes ain’t good for outside walking,” the tall man says as he yanks off one of the slippers. “Don’t want to mess them up do you?”
Sunni sulks and her eyes well with tears; but she doesn’t do anything to stop the man.
The sheriff and two sentinels emerge from the apartment carrying a queen size mattress. The sheriff carefully lowers his end of the mattress when he notices the tall man removing Sunni’s ballet slippers.
“What the hell are you doing?” the sheriff demands.
The tall man pauses but doesn’t remove his hand from Sunni’s feet, “We ain’t’ getting enough for this job sheriff….” He lowers his gaze, “Hate to see a good thing go to waste.”
The tall man’s words catch Shannon’s attention; but before she can launch her own attack, the sheriff pulls his pistol.
“Get your fucking hands off her now,” he points the gun at the tall man and swiftly makes his way to the curb.
Hands up in the air, the tall man backs away from the girl, “It’s just shoes boss…just shoes.”
The sheriff aims his gun at the looters, “Get back!” Finally fed up, he has reached his limit.
Sunni hops off the trash lid and hides behind her mother. Her eyes are wide as the looters cast off their bounty and quickly scatter.
* * *
Two Days Later
Their red, peeling skin bakes under the midday sun as Shannon and Sunni drag two suitcases and a backpack through a cluttered alleyway. A seven-story parking structure looms ahead, its concrete banisters adorned with long rows of tattered clothing hung out to dry. The scent of unwashed people, cooking food and raw sewage drift out of the entrance. Two guards clutching semi-automatic weapons stand on each side of the entrance as Sunni and her mom approach. One of the guards, Adam, tightens his grip on his weapon and gives the woman an unblinking stare. Shannon motions for her daughter to remain behind her as she gazes into Adam’s stony face.
“Excuse me…” Shannon’s voice is dry and shaky. The Shelter is the last place she wants to go but two days on the street have left her with no other option.
Adam shifts his gaze from Shannon to the luggage, “Ain’t no vacancy.”
Sunni’s parched lips quiver as she gazes at The Shelter, longing for its vague promise of relief and security.
“Don’t mind sharing,” Shannon puts on her best southern manners despite her foul smell and soiled clothing.
“I said there ain’t no vacancy….” Adam’s stare is unflinching.
Shannon glances at Sunni, unsure of how long the girl will last on the outside. She allows her gaze to fall upon Adam’s stern face again, “There must be something you can do…”
Adam stares straight ahead, not looking at Shannon or her frightful daughter, “Maybe…”
It’s a bribe. Shannon figures she can handle bribes, she’s use to it.
“How much we talking?”
“How much you got?’
Shannon searches his face for a moment. Is he trying to get much more than what the place is asking for? “Ain’t got much,” her voice grows tough and cold.
“I ain’t asked what you don’t got, I asked what you do got.”
“I’ll give you $25 to get us through that door.”
“$25 for you and $25 for your daughter.”
“You got to be kidding me…”
“Do I fucking look like a joke to you?”
Shannon doesn’t answer. The look on the man’s face warns that she is playing with fire.
For a moment she considers appealing to his compassion or sympathy by pointing out that Sunni is just a kid; but so many kids are on the street that few people care anymore, “$30 for the both of us.”
“Forty.”
“Okay.”
Shannon digs into her bra pulling out two $20 bills. Adam slings his weapon across his back and plucks the money from Shannon’s hand just as a black sports utility vehicle approaches the entrance. All eyes are on the dark tinted window as it slides open. A fat cigar protrudes from the lips of the portly man behind the wheel.
Adam tightens his fist around the cash and straightens up like a soldier.
The portly man motions for Adam to join him at the driver’s side window.
“Afternoon sir,” Adam says as he approaches the vehicle.
“What you got there?” the portly man asks.
“Yes sir?”
“Don’t yes sir me, you idiot. What you got in your hand?”
Adam hesitates, his fist still tight around the money.
The portly man removes his cigar from his lips and grabs Adam’s wrist. Adam doesn’t resist; but he also does not open his hand. Skimming off the top could have disastrous consequences. The portly man presses the hot end of his cigar into the flesh of Adam’s fist. Adam cries out and finally releases the cash.
“Pick it up,” the portly man retracts his cigar as the bills float to the asphalt. But before Adam can comply, Sunni scampers towards the car and scoops up the money, the asphalt’s heat radiating through the thin soles of her ballet slippers. She offers the cash to the portly man. And he smiles at the girl, her unkempt ballerina costume and gentle eyes remind him of why he prefers the company of children.
“You hold on to that now…,” he tells Sunni. “Take them down to lower level two…,” he orders Adam who still nurses his burnt hand. “And the next time you steal from me, I’ll burn your fucking eye out.” The portly man gives Shannon a final glance, “Welcome to The Shelter.” The window slides closed and he drives into the parking structure, a place where he is more than a mere landlord. In The Shelter he is both God and Savior.
The Shelter - Day 1
A chaotic roar surrounds Sunni and Shannon as they follow Adam down a dimly lit ramp. Destitute lives crammed between the white lines of parking spaces. Inoperable cars, tents, cardboard boxes and sleeping bags provide primitive shelter. Numbers 15, 16, 17 and so on are the only addresses for the displaced masses of humanity. People yell, cry, cook, eat, fuck, shit and sleep in the open while some only stare wistfully into the distance.
Sunni stays close to her mother as Adam stops at parking space #202. A family of three squats on a quilt and eats from a single can of beans. John Robinson, the patriarch of the family, lifts his tired gaze to rest upon the muzzle of Adam’s gun. Margaret gives a nervous smile, while her thirteen-year-old daughter’s demeanor darkens.
“You got roommates,” Adam jerks his head towards Shannon and Sunni. “Rent due on Fridays. Pay the attendant on the upper level,” Adam tells Shannon as he marches off towards the exit.
Margaret scrambles to her feet as her hus
band stares into the can of beans. He looks like a man on the verge of defeat.
“Why don’t you make yourself at home,” Margaret says as she shoves her family’s belongings to one side of the tiny space. “I’m Margaret,” she extends her hand, a warm smile slowly replacing her anxiety. Shannon cautiously accepts the handshake.
“Shannon,” she says. “And this is my daughter Sunni.”
Sunni stares at the beans. Just the sight of them makes her stomach growl.
“Well…don’t mind the dust…,” Margaret gives a dark chuckle. “This is my husband John and my daughter Jennifer.”
John offers no greeting. He silently pulls himself to his feet and begrudgingly helps his wife rearrange their living quarters.
Jennifer gives Sunni a wiggly finger wave as her heartbeat slowly returns to its normal rhythms.
“You hungry?” Jennifer motions to the can of beans.
Sunni nods and sits next to the girl while the adults continue arranging the space.
“Never had roommates before,” Jennifer says handing Sunni the can of beans and a clean spoon.
Sunni greedily shovels the food into her mouth.
Jennifer giggles softly. “Slow down,” she warns.
Sunni slows her eating, careful to chew each morsel before swallowing.
Jennifer giggles again, “I like you already.”
The Shelter - Day 14
Sunni and Jennifer lean over the concrete banister on upper level four and stare down at the busy street below.
“Daddy says we just camping here till we can get north, that’s where there’s some work for him,” Jennifer says.
Sunni gives a disappointed look, “Oh…” Sunni and Jennifer have grown very close in the two weeks since the girl moved into The Shelter – she doesn’t want to lose her friend.
“Daddy say they opening back up them steel mills up north. You ever seen a steel mill?”
Sunni shakes her head in the negative; she doesn’t even know what a steel mill is.