Crow - The Awakening (32 page)

"Oh, that's so sweet." Steven was excited. Finally, a bit of good news. He unclipped his money bag and unzipped it. "How much?"

“Five fifty three for the week.” The clerk turned around to grab the printout and program the key and Steven started counting out the money and clipped the bag back on his backpack. He nodded to the person sitting in the reception room who had looked up from his magazine again and was currently staring at him. He went back to reading his magazine without any acknowledgement.

"Here we go." He put the cash on the counter and the clerk turned around with the key card and looked at it then up at him.

"I'm sorry, sir. We only take credit or debit cards for rooms and we need to see a driver's license," the clerk informed him, nodding to a sign on the counter that Steven had overlooked.

Steven frowned, reading the sign that basically repeated what the clerk said. "But, I have cash right here." He couldn't believe that his cash wouldn't be good enough. "I have a drivers license, too."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Since you are able to incur other costs with the room, we can only accept credit." He looked at him, not budging but politely firm. "That's our policy."

Steven was stunned. "I really need a place to stay tonight. Is there anything you can do?" He tried not to beg, but the forest was several
miles
away through strange streets.

"The hotels that take cash are on the other side of town. I can give you a bus route if you'd like," the clerk offered as he put the key card back in the pile.

Steven nodded, pocketing his money and sighing. Deflated, he slumped against the counter as he waited for the bus schedule. He had assumed that having cash would be enough to obtain simple housing and yet again his assumptions were being obliterated. He suddenly felt very unprepared for the stark realities of life on his own and strongly wished he had stayed back at the homestead. He heard the clerk behind him and turned and took the offered schedule and opened it on the counter.

The clerk pointed to the map on the schedule. "Take this line here and you'll find three motels that take cash here, here and..." he adjusted his reading glasses as he looked, "...here."

Steven looked at the locations. It seemed simple enough. Perhaps he was making things out to be worse than they were. "Thanks. I appreciate your help."

"No problem." The clerk sat back down and continued whatever task it was he was doing when Steven walked in.

Outside, Steven noted that the sun had set. He walked to the bus stop and sat on the bench, going over the directions to make sure he got on the correct line. Another person sat down next to him and he looked up briefly, smiled a greeting then returned to examining the map. He was getting a little hungry, too, and thought about digging in his backpack when he heard something.

"Steven. Duck!" a woman's voice seemed to whisper loudly, as if in his head. Asherah?

He instinctively bent down without thought even as he realized the ridiculousness of responding to an imagined voice, then felt a whoosh of air rustle his hair on the top of his head. Startled, he sat up and looked around at his assailant. The man from the hotel lobby had what looked like a short steel pipe and he swung at him again, hitting him with a glancing blow in the head even as he heard Asherah's screams in his mind telling him to run. He fell backwards over the bench, rolled over and ducked another blow as the man jumped over the bench, swinging multiple times. He grabbed his staff and blocked another blow and got up to run, instinctively looking for a tree, but finding only manicured grass.

"Where are you going?" the man asked as he tackled him around the legs, knocking him down to the ground. Steven rolled over as the man attempted to straddle him and hit him with the steel pipe again. Steven tried to raise his staff up but they were laying on part of it and the steel pipe glanced off his forearm as he struggled. Pain shot up and down his arm and he cried out loudly and rolled over hard, trying to buck the man off him and kicking out wildly.

"Oh, no, you ain't going nowhere with my money!" the man yelled at him, dodging Steven's kicking feet and hitting his leg with the pipe. More pain. And the cries in his head to run continued loudly. The only thing Steven could think about was getting to his feet and sprinting away. But there were no trees to climb, no underbrush to duck through. He was in a dead zone where there was no life to help him.

The man kicked him in the ribs and he lost his breath as his side cramped up. He curled up as the man kicked him again and again, then rolled over on his stomach and tried to scramble away again. The steel bar hit his backpack, bouncing off his clothes in the bag that softened the blow. Then the man hit his leg, tripping him as he was trying to get to his feet. "You just don't learn, do you?" He felt a knee on the back of his neck as the man tried to get Steven's backpack off. He folded his arms in front of him and tried to keep him from slipping the bag off. Frustrated, the man hit him repeatedly with the steel pipe and Steven put his hands over his head trying to ward off the blows. He kicked out angrily as the man shifted his knee off his neck to get a better angle and his foot struck something that made the man yell out in pain, cursing him loudly.

The blows rained down on him rapidly now, not hard but with a steel pipe the hits don't have to be hard. He rolled over to try to get away again and the man persisted in knocking him back down, kicking and hitting him with the pipe. Asherah's screams in his head were now of pain as Steven tried to ward off the blows and keep them away from his skull. Somehow he had not been knocked unconscious or incapacitated, which surprised him because of the ferocity of the attack. Nonetheless, he hurt all over as he curled up in a fetal position. The screams in his mind had fallen silent, but then he heard someone else yelling in the distance.

The repeating blows suddenly stopped and he felt his backpack being tugged again and he tried to wiggle so the robber couldn't get a good grip. Something on his backpack gave suddenly and he saw the man fall back hard on his rump then get up and start running as another man came into view swinging a walking stick at him and yelling at him as he scrambled off into the darkness. Steven groaned as he lay there, watching a bus drive by without stopping. He tried to yell for the bus to stop but it hurt him to breathe. There was a smell of smoke in the air that made his eyes water even more and he closed his eyes, trying to fight back the tears.

After a moment the bus drove off into traffic. Steven couldn't believe that no one stopped to help him. Were people really that uncaring? Surely they saw him laying there. Still trying to catch his breath, Steven rolled over on his back. He tried to get up on his elbows then fell back down in pain that seemed worse now than when he was being beat on. He couldn't think of a part of his body that didn't hurt and the pain all seemed to meld together into one agonizing throb of misery. He just lay there, still trying to hold the tears back but ultimately failing.

He saw a pair of ratty, old tennis shoes walk up to him through his tears and a man kneeling down. "Hey there, young man. Is anything broken?" It was a deep and gentle voice. He looked up and gazed into the weathered face of a gentle, graying black man. The man reached down and cradled Steven's shoulders as he gently pulled him into a sitting position. Steven winced in pain, as he sat there, but didn't think anything was broken. He was having trouble telling, however, because everything was so sore.

"Oh, I hurt," Steven groaned, holding his head.

"That fella gave you such a bad beating." The man felt Steven's arms and hands and looked at his skull. "Do you think you can stand?"

"Yes." Steven winced as he tried to get his feet under him. It didn't matter if he thought so or not, he had to get up. The elderly man put his arm under Steven's and tenderly helped him up. He supported Steven as he limped over to the bench. Steven sat down heavily, grimacing as more flashes of pain ricocheted around his body. He looked down at the ground and wiped his eyes.

"He ran off with a bag." The man sat next to him. Steven looked around, afraid his laptop had been removed. His backpack was still intact. But a bag was missing. Steven's stomach got ill as he realized that his money bag was gone, and with it most of his funds and his driver's license.

"Oh, no!" Steven looked up where the man had run off to. "He took my money!"

"That's terrible, son. But he left you your life." The man consoled him, patting him on the shoulder.

"But, that's all I had. I've been saving it up for years!" Steven was heartbroken, feeling utterly violated, as if those years were callously yanked away.

"Ah, son, you have so much more." The man gave Steven a genuine smile. "You're going to be just fine."

"How? I needed that." Steven couldn't imagine continuing on now. Everything had become a failure. "How will I find them now?" His parents seemed even more out of reach from him now than ever.

"You'll do okay because it's in your heart to, boy." The man put his hand on Steven's heart. "You may have suffered, but you just keep pushing forward, you hear me?" He smiled, showing his clean, straight teeth that contrasted with his rough appearance. "There is a lot you can do without money. Or a home. I should know."

Steven looked at him. His clothes were as ratty as his shoes. The man looked down, pulling at his shirt. "Yes, I'm homeless. But that just means my home is everywhere." Steven was speechless and the elderly man grinned at his reaction. "Now, take a deep breath and think ahead. Setbacks are just opportunities. Okay?"

Steven suddenly felt ashamed, worrying about his money when the man that saved him likely didn't have two pennies to rub together. But he still looked in the direction the man had run, wondering what he was going to do.

The man followed his gaze then looked back at Steven. "The birds of the air don't fret over money and they still eat and find a home. You just need to keep taking life a step at a time and never give up."

Steven started to calm down. The man was amazingly logical and calm and his voice was soothing. Steven found the positive attitude infectious as he started to assess his situation. He was still alive and that was the most important tool he had. "Thanks." Again someone came to his aide, a repeating motif in this journey that Steven couldn't help but wonder about.

"I'm Brian Jones. What's your name?" Brian asked.

"Steven," he said as he removed his backpack to inspect it. It was a rugged backpack that was made to withstand romps through the forest, which was why the robber was unable to rip it off him. None of the seams were even stretched. The moneybag was something he purchased to clip to the outside of the backpack. He regretted that now. He peeked inside and noted his laptop was still intact. It was carbon fiber and machined titanium and quite resistant to abuse or even water, another design of his to forest-proof it. A couple of his flashdrives were smashed but most of them were intact as well. He found a bag in the backpack and remembered stashing some extra cash in it from his bedroom. That would help. He remembered the cash he put in his pocket and put his hand there to make sure it was still there. A week's rent for the hotel.

"I have a little bit of money." He felt relieved. He could get a hotel and clean up. "A week at the hotel here but they wouldn't take my cash." He zipped his backpack up. "I can still get a hotel room down the road."

"Hold up there, friend," Brian tugged on his sleeve. "If you have enough for a hotel for a week, what about the other things you need?"

"Like what?" Steven stopped.

"You don't look like you're here to stay at a hotel then go home."

"I'm hoping to find work," Steven said.

"Then you need to save that money for the absolute essentials. Look at it as an investment. A suit for job interviews, for instance," Brian instructed, sounding confident. Steven had decent clothes, but no suit.

"But what about housing? A shower?" Steven asked. Those did sound like essentials.

"You can shower at the Y and there are homeless shelters you can bunk at. Prioritize, kid. That's how you'll make it."

"Forgive me, but it doesn't seem to be working well for you," Steven tried not to be rude but had to point that out.

The man chuckled. "Son, some of us are homeless because we're sick and drunk, others because we can't find work, and there are some of us that are just burned out from the rat race. Me, I used to be a financial consultant. I tell you, Steven, that profession will eat you up and spit you out." He sat there looking at Steven with a humorous twinkle in his eyes.

Steven felt stupid all of a sudden. "Sorry. It's been a rotten day."

"It's just a day like yesterday and tomorrow. It's only bad or good if you let it be." Brian grinned. Steven couldn't really argue with a happy homeless man.

He looked at the bus schedule. He had missed the last bus for that area. "I need to find a place to sleep." He looked up and down the street.

"When it's nice out like now I usually crash under the bridge," the homeless man offered, pointing down the street at an overpass. Steven noticed a park down the street in the other direction. Bushes, trees, that appealed to him more. "I think I'll sleep over there."

"Okay, but they have a curfew for that park."

"Not a problem." Steven grinned. Staying out of sight in forests was his specialty.

"Well, when you're ready, let me show you where a good homeless shelter is." He opened Steven's bus schedule. "It's down the street a ways but the people there are fair." Brian pointed on the map. Then he pointed on another part of the map. "You can shower there, and there."

"Great. Thanks." Steven meant it.

He was sore and bruised, but was starting to feel like he was getting things back under control again. It was time to move forward. But for now, the only thing he wanted to do was to climb a tree and tuck in for the night. They parted ways and Steven made his way into the park, found a large tree, and scaled it, tenderly favoring his many bruises. As he got high up in the canopy, out of site from people below, he found a nice thick pair of branches. He folded over thinner branches between the two, used his staff to brace them and lay on them, quickly falling asleep in utter exhaustion.