Charlie Pt 01

I circled the block again, thinking if I could backtrack, I might be able to find my way out of downtown. No one tells you how many one way streets there are in a city, or how hard it was to tell where you were with all of the big buildings. A light came on the dash and I looked at it blankly. I had no idea what it meant. It was my roommate's boyfriend's car, he let me borrow it to drive into the city to see my grandmother in the hospital. Now I couldn't find my way back to the highway or out of downtown. His old beater didn't have GPS and my phone had died hours ago. My own fault for not bringing a charger to the hospital that I was spending 12 hours at.

I saw a building I thought was familiar and turned, hoping I was heading towards the highway now. It was dark and only one headlight was working on Allans car, so I took it slow. I was one of those people. The ones who turned the radio off and leaned as far forward in the seat as I could and drove slow when they were lost. I had been trying to find my way out of the maze for a good forty five minutes. The nurses had let us stay long past the visiting hours since my grandmother had not been expected to make it through the morning. She had though, and she was still going. We finally had to leave at midnight and I had stopped at the Denny's across from the hospital to have a late meal with my brother. When we left, I thought I had a clear way to the highway. I had not counted on all of the one way streets. This was ridiculous.

The light flickered and I looked at it again. What the hell was it? The engine made a gurgling noise, then started knocking loudly. My heart sank. I was on a dark street, no idea where I was, downtown, with no phone. There was no way it could be a worse time for the car to break down. Smoke began trickling out of the hood and I felt sick to my stomach. I saw a light from a building ahead, washing into the dark street and I made a slow beeline towards it.

It was a bar. Of course. What else would be open this late? At least they were open and they would have a phone. I started to ease into the lot, but the car gave a final clank and died right in the entrance to the lot. The only positive was that the lot was filled with motorcycles that could easily maneuver around the old chrysler that was now pouring smoke from the engine.

Just fucking awesome.

I sighed and tried to start it, but nothing happened. Not a noise, not a click, nothing.

Fuck!

I grabbed my phone and headed to the door of the bar, cussing Allan and stupid street designers who somehow thought it as a good idea to make one way streets. What was even the point?

I pushed the door open and had a real movie theatre moment. Everyone inside went still and started at me. Everyone. The bar was full of bikers, but that hadn't bothered me. My dad was a biker and the nicest guy in the world. These were all younger men, all large and tattooed and pierced. They all looked less like bikers and more like hipsters gone bad. Angry hipsters. Menacing hipsters. I noticed then that the ratio of men to women was ridiculously skewed. There were a full two dozen men and three women.

I blinked warily and looked around, then my eyes landed on the bartender. He was as tall as the other men, but he looked a bit different. He had tattoos up both sides of his neck and the sides of his head were both shaved. The top was long and light blonde, but in dreads that were braided in a loose french braid. His ears were pierced and gauged and he had contacts in that made his eyes look a bright, almost yellow green.

He smiled and it wasn't pleasant. "You lost little girl? I'm not sellin'."

"No sir. I mean, yes, I am lost, but I am not trying to buy alcohol. I mean, I could, I am twenty six... ummm... my car just broke down? I was hoping you had a phone I could use?"

"You don't have a cellphone?"

"I do, it's dead and I didn't bring my charger... I... I wasn't thinking about it. They called and said my Grammy was dying and I just borrowed my friend's car and came... ummm... anyway. Do you have a payphone or something...?"

The man chuckled and leaned back on his bar, crossing his arms and looking me up and down. "Bullshit."

"I'm sorry?"

"You ain't twenty six."

"I am, I have my license. I only want to use the phone..."

The tension in the room was almost palpable as the bartender looked around at the men in the room. The woman all had their heads down. Like they were afraid.

"Ok babe, see that doorway back there that says bathrooms? There is a payphone at the end of that hall. Pretty sure it still works. You can check."

"Umm. Thanks. Could I get some quarters?" I asked, handing him a five.

He smirked and pulled change out of his pocket and slammed it down on the five, then walked down to the end of the bar, dismissing me.

That was a sign of some sort, the other men in the bar went back to talking and moving, but most still watched me warily as I scooped the change up, leaving the five, and heading to the doorway.

The hall was long and dim, but I could see the black block payphone hanging on the wall. There was an old barstool tucked into the corner next to it like it hadn't been sat on or moved in a decade. I hurried down to the end, passing the restrooms and two more doors, then picked up the receiver. It hummed expectantly. Relief coursed through me and I shifted the change in my hand, ready to feed it in.

I froze. I did not know a single number by heart, not one. They were all programmed into my phone and I always just hit 'call'. My phone was dead.

Fuck.

I turned to head back out to the bar, but the bartender rounded the corner and leaned on the frame. "Work?"

"Yeah... umm. I don't know any numbers. I don't guess there is an off chance anyone has a charger I could use?"

He half laughed and looked over his shoulder back into the bar. He took a step further in and looked at me again, his eyes blatantly looking me up and down. "I doubt you'll want to ask any of the boys for a favor. I have the number for a tow company in my apartment upstairs, but I doubt they are open this late."

"Do you have a charger I could use?" I asked warily.

He grinned again and leaned on the wall. "I use the landline. I'm not so good with newer tech. None of us are. So you just happen to get lost and break down in front of the only open establishment in the Low."

"The Low? I was downtown, trying to get to the highway from the hospital?"

"You are a long ways off from downtown. This is all industrial around here. Only our kind come out here to the Low, especially this time of night."

"Umm. How far am I from downtown?"

"Not too far, twenty minutes, but it's a rabbit warren down here. So many shipping trucks on narrow streets, they are all one way. You have to know the trick of it to get out of here."

"I guess I don't feel so stupid for getting lost then? Umm. Is there anywhere else close to here I could walk to and find a charger?"

He laughed out loud. "Little girl, you do NOT want to go walking around in the Low by yourself at night. Or in the day. Or ever. You don't belong here."

"I'd love to leave... I guess I should get that tow number? Or maybe, do you think a cop would come help me?"

His grin this time was dark. "Cops don't come to the Low, little girl."

I was feeling more and more stressed. How the hell was I supposed to get out of here?

"Could you maybe help me? Call AAA or something?"

"Why would I do that?" he asked, his voice low.

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering in my chest. "Umm, actually, I think I remember my moms number," I said breathlessly, spinning to the payphone. I put my body between him and the phone and punched in 9-1-1.

Silence. No hum, no ringing, nothing.

I looked over my shoulder and he was smirking at me from the doorframe. I hit the little catch, but there was no sound now. It had just been working!

I turned back to him. "Umm... is there another phone? A landline I could use?"

"Up in my apartment. That door there. It's unlocked."

I looked at the door he was pointing to and felt sick. I was pretty sure I did NOT want to go through that door or up to his apartment.

"Actually, I think I will just go out to my car and see if I can find a number."

"And then what? Stare at it till morning? You'll still be in the Low. And you will have to walk out there through the boys again. They let you pass once, not sure they would let you pass twice," he said with his smirk.

"We won't!" someone yelled from the bar. There was laughter and I was starting to panic.

"Look... umm... Mister, I just want to go... I will find my way home..."

"No. You won't. Come on Little Red, head up those stairs."

I blinked at him and stepped back. There was no place for me to go, I was trapped back in this corner.

It was time for a new tack.

"Umm. My name is Charlie. What's your name?"

"Little girl, how about you trot up them stairs before I take you on up there myself. Or would you rather stick around till my boys decide they are done waitin' to get their hands on you?"

I swallowed hard and glanced at the entryway. What the hell was wrong with these people? I pressed myself to the wall and moved to the door, then opened it and darted up the stairs at a sprint, hoping to find a way out before he got up the stairs.

It was pitch black when the lower door closed and there was no more light coming up the stairs. I had seen the top door and I took the last couple steps more slowly with my arms in front of me. I fumbled for the knob and pushed into the room, but it was dark also. Blinking, I paused, trying to adjust to the dim light coming in the window. My hand searched for a switch and I finally found it several feet from the door.

The room wasn't very big, but there was a window and I rushed to it, fumbling at the lock. I froze, looking out. The window was barred. I turned to look around and darted into the closest room. It was a bathroom. That wouldn't work. I turned and went to the next door. The bedroom. I darted to that window, but it was also barred.

Fuck!

I hurried back out and ran across to the kitchen, but there was no window. Instead I went to the drawers and searched for a knife or something to use as protection.

I realized as I turned, weilding a steak knife, that the man hadn't followed me. The door was shut and I was alone. I was panting and watching the door, but it stayed closed and quiet.

I tried to ease my breathing and slow my heartbeat as I looked around. I saw an old phone, the kind with a rotary dial and went to it, picking up the handset. No tone.

I looked around for something else, maybe a charger for my phone? No, there was nothing. I started looking through his things and found some invoices for the bar.

Luke Hadley.

I went back to the kitchen and searched for a larger knife, finally finding one inside the dish drainer. I took it and went to the bathroom, locking the door and wedging it shut, then climbing in the tub and holding the knife in front of me, listening and waiting. I grew tense and sore sitting there, my muscles knotting up.

In movies people climb in the tub and sleep, lay back, get comfortable. That's bullshit. Tubs are hard and cold and uncomfortable. I shifted again and again, but couldn't get comfortable at all. I finally got out once I started shivering and sat down on the toilet. There was still no noise and it had been over an hour. Maybe two, I had no way of knowing. The bar had to be closed by now? Should I peek out? Was he out there waiting for me?

As loathe as I was to do it, I got on the floor and pressed my ear to it, trying to hear the bar below.

Silence.

I crept to the door and pressed my ear to it.

Silence.

This was ridiculous! I unwedged the door as quietly as I could and unlocked it, then peeked out. The light was out, but I could see a way's out from the light of the bathroom. There was nothing. All the lights had been turned out, but no one was there.

I moved quietly to the door and turned the knob, but it was locked. Of course it was. I slipped to the door to the bedroom and opened it slowly, peeking in. He was there, in bed, laying across it on his stomach with nothing but a pair of boxers. He looked like he was passed out facing the opposite wall. I lifted my knife and looked round for his pants. My ex always used to leave his keys in his pockets when he got undressed. I tiptoed closer, moving around the bed.

"You stab me, you better kill me. If you don't, I will take that steel to you and I promise you won't be breathing when I am done."

He had never turned or looked at me, how did he know I had a knife? I swallowed and hovered there. Could I reach his jeans before he reached me?

"I left a blanket on the couch," he growled.

I blinked. He expected me to sleep?!?

I looked down at the knife, then his prone body. Could I stab him? I licked my lips nervously, then inched closer to his jeans piled on the floor. I knelt and caught the edge and pulled them closer, then rifled through the pockets as quietly as I could.

"Keys aren't anywhere you'll find them, or where you could reach if you did. Go get some sleep." He still hadn't moved or turned over, just spoke sleepily.

I backed up to the door and stood trying to figure out what to do. The keys were up high somewhere, at least that was what he had intimated. Maybe he had just said that to throw me off?

"If you don't go lay down and sleep, I will put you there myself," he said grumpily. "And you will not like it."

I backed into the living room and looked around. I could see a pillow and blanket folded on one of the couch cushions, but I ignored it, trying to figure out where he might have put the keys. I could obviously rule the bathroom out. Maybe the kitchen? I hurried to it and turned the light over the stove on, then started looking as quietly as I could.

"Red," he snapped from his bedroom door. "Lay down. Now."

Feeling sick, I turned off the light and went to the couch to sit down. I was gripping the knife so hard my hand was shaking. He stood there a moment, watching me, then finally went back into his room. I heard the mattress springs squeak as he threw himself back into bed.

That was twice he had called me that. 'Red'. I wondered why? My hair was as brown as my eyes, I wasn't wearing any red clothes? Maybe my face had been red when I had come in?

"Sleep!" he yelled angrily.

I jumped and put the pillow on the opposite side of the couch and pulled the blanket over me, but I sat mostly up against the pillow. I was facing his door, holding the knife and waiting.

Movement made me jump awake with a yelp. Daylight pierced my eyes, making me wince before I realized it was morning and he had plucked the knife from my hands as he had walked past me to the kitchen.

I scrambled up, looking around. I hurried to the window, hoping there were people out there. Maybe I could open it and yell for help?

There were men out there. I could see down into the parking lot and Allan's car. It had been moved to the back of the lot. There were two men, I was pretty sure some of the bikers from the night before, hunched over the open hood. Were they fixing it? Had I overreacted about everything? Misunderstood somehow?

I went to his room and looked out that window to the street. There was a warehouse across the street and a large semi truck slowly ambling up the street. He had been right, two cars would not have fit on the narrow street, not with a truck that size.

"If you need a shower, I have a tshirt you can wear. Here." I spun to him and he was holding the knife out to me, hilt first. I took it warily. "I needed it to make breakfast. Towels are in the bathroom, t-shirts are in the top drawer." He turned and left, headed back to the kitchen.

I swallowed and took another last look out the window before moving back out to the living room. I went to the far side so I could see him in the kitchen from a distance, then moved closer as he fried something in a pan.

"Omelette. You want one you can make it yourself. Everything is in the fridge."

"Luke? Is that your name?"

"I see they still teach reading in school," he answered blandly.

"Umm... Luke... are they fixing my friend's car?"

"What does it look like?"

"Umm... What is 'the Low'?

"A place you shouldn't be."

"Can I go down to the car and get my things?"

"There's nothing in there you need."

"Look... I really need to get word to my family. I need to get to the hospital. My Grammy is dying, I want to be there for her!"

"You gonna walk, Red?"

"I thought I would just go to one of those buildings across the way, there has to be people working in them, right?"

He laughed. "People. Right."

"Is it all machinery? There has to be someone working, it can't all be automated!"

There was a knock at the door and he pushed past me roughly to go answer it. "Dave, hold on!" he hollered, then went into his room. He came out with a key and unlocked the door, then stood between me and the small opening. "This is it?"

"Yeah boss. You make a decision?"

"Not yet. Link here yet? Skulking around anywhere?"

"Aint caught a whiff. I'll let you know if I do. You need anything else?"

"Yeah. Clothes for her and some pads or something. Ask your sister what. Her blood is about to come on her. Underwear. Small. I don't fucking know. Just, ask Lynette."

"Sure man. You know what that's gonna do to the boys?"

"I'll figure it out. Just go and hurry back."

He shut the door and locked it, then turned back to me as he slipped the key into his pocket. He had my wallet in his hands and he opened it to go through it.

"Hey! That's mine! Why do you have it? Give it to me!" I demanded, trying to take it from him.

His eyes lifted from my wallet to my eyes and he stared down at me. I took a step back. It was not a pleasant look at all. I swallowed as he went back to rifling through my cards and ID's.

"Charlotte L Roedecker."

"Charlie. Yeah. What do you..."

"You're from the Ruskin?"

"Yeah?"

"Fucking gentrifying cunt. What makes you all think you can push out people who have been in their homes for generations?!?"

I felt my face go red. "I was one of those people being pushed out. My great grandfather had that house built. Don't assume you know me!"

He gave me an assessing look, but I was too angry to be afraid.

"You have a platinum card."

"Because I got a scholarship and became an industrial engineer!"

"You really are twenty six. This ID isn't fake."

"I told you."

"Alright Red. Go make yourself some breakfast."

"Not hungry, I want to leave."

"No place for you to go. Go eat."

"No. I don't eat breakfast. I drink coffee."

"Don't have coffee."

"I know. I didn't see a coffee maker. I haven't seen hardly anything electric. Not even a TV."

"David put your laptop downstairs for now. I will bring it up once I head downstairs. No internet. You read books?"

"How long do you plan on keeping me here?"

"As long as I want. Fine, sit here and be bored to death. Go eat."

"I don't eat breakfast!"

"It's lunchtime. I am not asking, Red. Go. Now."

"Why do you call me Red?"

"You think you are smart, you figure it out," he growled, then went back to the kitchen. He came out with his omelette and sat on the couch to eat.

"Please, Luke, can you take me home? Or to the hospital? My brother can give me a ride and..."

"Shut it Red, go eat. Last warning."

With a sigh of frustration, I went into the kitchen. I scrambled a single egg, then went back out to the living room. He was reading a book. He had the cover curled back so that it was smaller in his huge hands, like some kind of animal.

"You are cracking the spine! And breaking up the glue binding!"

He looked up from the book, giving me a flat stare. I glared back. I was pretty confident at this point that for all of his bluster, he wasn't going to actually hurt me.