• I’m running. It’s all I know; I run from danger, I run to shelter, I run for food, I run for life. I have no name. When you don’t talk to people names have no need. I’ve been on my own for as long as I can remember; years before the war started, when the country began facing the depression. I like it this way, being alone.
    The street in front of me breaks, splitting into different directions. The road on the left is the darkest. These days, dark means empty. People might say that alleys like this are home to criminals and muggers, but they’re wrong. I’m not a criminal. I only take what I need to survive from those who have way more than they need. Criminals take from anyone because they want, not need, what they steal.
    My feet slow as I begin to climb over broken glass and strewn trash. The darkest corner is where I’ll make my home tonight. Home, a stupid word that has no relation to me anymore; I don’t know if it ever has. A while ago I found an old dictionary and began reading. The first half of the book was gone; “god” being the first word on the torn pages that were left. The one definition that I’ll always remember is that of home. Home: a place offering security and happiness with a family or social network that occupies it. If that’s what a true home is then I guess I’ll forever be homeless.
    My feet fall from under me as I sit on the ground, my back against a rundown brick wall and my head resting against the side of a reeking dumpster. Blackness fills my vision as my eyelids close. I ignore the pain in the pit of my stomach that never leaves and let sleep overtake me.

    “Wake up.” A light voice brings me from my dreamless night. I open my eyes to see a young girl leaning over me. Her dingy red hair hangs in short wisps in front of her small face. “Come on, the soldiers search today. If they find you, you’ll be lucky to survive.”
    I hop to my feet, searching the gray alley for any other presence. No one else seems to be here, which means the girl is most likely not with the soldiers. As I rise, I find that the girl can’t be much younger than me, maybe fifteen or sixteen. She stands a couple inches shorter than me; five foot three is my guess. Her clothes are the same color of grime as mine and we share the same thin body. She is not with the militia; she’s a survivor like me, trying to make it through the day.
    “Where are we going?” I ask as I follow her down the alley into the street filled with dim sunlight. Long shadows stretch out over the broken concrete in front of us.
    “There’s a camp not too far from here. A lot of us stay there during the nights; sometimes they have meals. It’s real low key, though; don’t tell anyone.” She checks the street before running across. I follow quietly behind her, careful as not to waken anyone in the old buildings around us.
    I’ve heard that people can get rewards for turning in my kind. We’re just no good losers who take from those that actually contribute to society. Personally, I’d rather be dead than be working for the failed excuse of a government. I don’t want to make guns and other weapons of mass destruction in order to survive. I don’t want to know that what I’m doing is killing people in other countries. What I’m doing now is just fine with me, running the streets, hiding from the heartless, surviving off of only what I need.
    “Watch the door,” the girl whispers to me as she steps through a dark threshold. I take the door from her and gently close it behind me as I enter the building. Her hand wraps around mine as she pulls me behind her.
    I can barely make anything out. Everything is black and quiet, causing the hair on my arms to rise. I’ve never trusted anyone enough to let them take my hand and lead me into a dark building, I’ve always been afraid they may be undercover. Anyone could be undercover, that’s why I don’t trust anyone but myself. We begin to make our way up a set of stairs. I walk slowly, careful not to miss a step and pull the girl after me as I tumble down the stairs.
    “Almost there, sorry it’s so dark; we just have to make sure no one comes in here looking.”
    “Okay.” My voice sounds odd to my ears. I’ve never talked much; I’ve never had anyone to talk to.
    Light quickly fills my vision, causing my eyes to squeeze shut in an effort to keep me from going blind. The girl releases my hand and holds the door open, waiting for me to enter the candlelit room. Hesitantly I step forward, taking in all of my surroundings with a quick glance. Other people are here, other people like me.
    “Hello.” An older man, probably about fifty-five, rises from his seat next to a wood covered window. “How are you?”
    I take a quick look at myself. My shoes have holes, my clothes are covered in dirt and rips, my hair hasn’t been cut or brushed in weeks, and my lousy attempt at a beard probably has dirt trapped in it. Yet, despite all that, I’m not doing too bad.
    “I’m good, you?” I glance over him as he speaks, taking in every word he says. His hair is gray and balding, his face worn, his clothes in worse shape than mine, but he replies with the same words as me.
    “So, what’s your name?” the redheaded girl asks as she hands me a piece of thin bread. She bites into hers as she awaits my answer.
    “I don’t have one,” I answer evenly. I hold up my hand, “thanks for the bread.”
    “What do you mean you don’t have a name?” she asks in disbelief.
    “I don’t talk to anyone, therefore I don’t need one.” My words are muffled by the small chunk of bread in my mouth. It’s delicious, better than molded crackers.
    “Well you’re talking to us, therefore you need one. Make one up for yourself. I’m Kelly Crystal Brown, you can call me Kel.” She holds her hand out to me as if waiting for me to introduce myself with my made-up name and shake her hand.
    “It’s nice to meet you.” I shake her hand and end the conversation at that. I can see her eyes roll in the candlelight.
    She looks me over for a moment. “I’ll call you James, James Adam Jones.”
    I nod once. James. James Adam Jones. I can’t help but smile, I’ve never thought any name could fit me, but James is about as plain as I am. The name works great. Having someone actually do something nice for me feels amazing. Who would have thought a name and a piece of bread could make someone feel this good?
    “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” She pulls on my arm, leading me around the room to meet all the others like us.
    Many of them are like me; they don’t want to talk, afraid I might be undercover, here for some quick bucks. On the other hand, those like Kel cheerfully take my hand and give me a friendly clap on the back. The friendliness makes me feel like I belong. For the first time in my life I actually want to stay in a place. I want to stay here, to have friends.
    “So, what do you say James, are you going to stay?” Kel looks up at me, nibbling on the last bit of crust in her hand.
    “Yeah, I think I will, at least for a while.” The corners of her mouth pull up at my words.
    “That’s great. Come on, I’ll show you to where we room. The beds aren’t that great, but it’s the best we can get.” She leads me from the lightly lit room back out into the dark hallway. After a few steps I can hear the creak of a door and we take a turn to the right. She spreads her arms out around her as she says, “This is it.”
    Hole infested mattresses line the walls, a blanket folded neatly on top of each. A candle is placed in between every two or three beds, giving off just enough light to see. She leads me down the isle toward the end of the room. We stop at a small, dingy bed.
    “You can have this one. The person who used to sleep here got caught a few weeks ago.” She pauses as if reminiscing. In an effort to lighten the mood she claps her hands together and begins speaking again. “That’s my bed right there. Cory sleeps on your other side. Any questions?”
    “Why are you helping me?” I ask, staring at her intently.
    “Because I know what it’s like not to have anyone. I know what it’s like to eat but still feel a hunger in my stomach. It’s an ache that can only be cured by love.” She pauses before laughing. “Sorry if that sounded corny.”
    I laugh, too, for the first time in a long time. “No, it’s what I needed to hear.”
    “Right.” Her mouth widens into a bigger smile. “Well then, welcome home.”