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Log # ** Date ** ** ***
So it looks like I’ll be breaking up the usual monotony with something new: I rescued a kid off the streets today.
I was heading home, dodging around a stupid fast-runner who wasn’t looking where she was going, then I heard the weirdest sound. It was kinda like a mix between a trill and a yelp. There were also clangs and thumps and laughter. It was such a weird combo, I figured I’d check it out.
And it was a good thing I did, lemme tell ya. It was a bunch of kids, none of them older then seventeen or so. They were all crowded around something I couldn’t see. They were all shouting something about a freak and a thief. Nothing I wanted to be getting involved in, I figured. So I was gonna leave, when I saw just who they were attacking: A girl, just a kid, huddled against the alley wall. She was all beaten up, with cuts and bruises. So I turned right back around. I mean, I wasn’t about to let them kill her. She didn’t look like she could walk, much less steal anything.
Mom always said she raised a hero, and I don’t know if what I did was heroic or stupid, but I don’t think she’d complain about it.
I pulled out my gun and fired it into the air—I wasn’t about to shoot some stupid kids. It caught their attention, though, and they all spun around. A couple looked ticked, but most just looked startled and a little nervous. I don’t think they expected to be caught. The girl, though, didn’t move.
“A’ight kids, fun’s over, everyone gets t’ go home now.” I know I looked threatening, holding my gun. And I haven’t shaved in a couple days, so I’ll bet I looked something like a bear.
“We were just, uh, catchin’ a thief!” One of the older ones spoke up. A couple tried to just slide off without being noticed, and I just let them.
“A thief, huh? Looks like you’ve done more’n catch it.” I nodded past them to the girl, and a few shot self-conscious glances at her. They knew that that wasn’t the way we did justice here, and I was gonna remind them. “Why di’in’t you just take ‘er to th’ police? They woulda made ‘er give back everythin’ she stole.” One boy slipped a hand into his pocket, and I’m sure they all had already helped themselves to everything the girl had had with her. And I hadn’t gotten an actual answer besides. “Why don’t ya all jus’ go on home an’ this won’t be talked ‘bout again?” One kid, the biggest, looked like he wanted to challenge me. Woulda been a pretty stupid move, considering I had a loaded gun and was about twice his size. Fortunately for him, another kid managed to get him to with them.
Once they were all gone, I put my gun up and approached the girl. Throughout the whole thing, she hadn’t moved so much as a twitch. Cursing the whole lot of stupid kids, I crouched next to her. She was in pretty bad shape, way too skinny, cut up and bruised so bad I couldn’t tell the real color of her skin. She was filthy on top of that, too. I sat there for a moment, trying to decide what to do. I couldn’t leave her there. She’d get killed or used, and I wasn’t about to let that happen to her. With a sigh, I picked her up. She was way too light, and her skin felt way too cold.
Right now she’s sleeping on my couch, curled up in a tight little ball. She didn’t move at all on the way home, or when I put her down, tried to clean and dress her cuts, or put blankets on her. I don’t know what those kids did to her, but she’s in bad shape. I’ll have a doc come over tomorrow, maybe.
But it’s been a long day, and I need a beer.
-Lt. W. Barringar
 Faith-Hoping-Love · Tue May 05, 2009 @ 10:33pm · 2 Comments |
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