Strays in the Time of COVID Read online

  Strays in the Time of Covid

  By Edward Kendrick

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2021 Edward Kendrick

  ISBN 9781646567218

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  To all the homeless teens, especially the ones who fixed up our basement as a place to stay for a while. I may not remember your names, but I'll never forget how you changed our lives.

  * * * *

  Strays in the Time of Covid

  By Edward Kendrick

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Guy slipped into the alley, staying in the shadows, searching to be certain he was the only one there. After a moment he moved farther in, coming to a sudden halt when he heard movement a few yards ahead of him, on the far side of a large Dumpster.

  Please, please let it be a rat or…or something. He was still recovering physically and emotionally from the beating he’d gotten from his father and didn’t want to become the target of punks who got off on hurting people who lived on the streets. That happened too often these days when so many people took their rage at the pandemic out on those who had fallen between the cracks.

  Like me, now, because there’s no way I’m going back home. Next time he’ll kill me. All because he won’t accept I’m not what he wanted in a son.

  He was lucky, he supposed, that he’d been able to avoid the punks, so far. Not his father’s rage though. He’d managed to stuff a few changes of clothes and some necessities, like his sketchpads and pencils and a couple of extra masks, into his backpack and had almost made it out of the house before his father caught him and bodily threw him into the backyard, telling him never to show his ‘pussyass’ face in the neighborhood again.

  That had been his father’s derogatory name for him because even at eighteen Guy was slender enough he obviously wasn’t a jock—at least according to his father. What really pissed him off was the fact that Guy wasn’t interested in sports and other such ‘manly’ pursuits like cars and girls. Instead, when he came home from school, he would go to his room where he spent his time reading, writing, and drawing—even more so when the high school went to remote learning because of the pandemic.

  “No real man does crap like that,” his father had told him more than once. “And get a damned haircut,” he’d add angrily, because Guy wore it longer than his father liked.

  “It’s not that bad,” Guy would protest, which was the truth. It just wasn’t a buzz cut like his father’s.

  Well, it is now. He ran his hand over his head and shuddered.

  That had happened when his father had returned from a business trip almost a week ago. He was in a foul mood because he hadn’t made as many sales as his boss had expected—and had gotten a dressing down from the man as a result. At least that’s what Guy had overheard him tell his mother, ranting about how unfair it had been.

  When Guy came downstairs for dinner that evening his father had taken one look at him and ordered “Get your ass to the barber in the morning. And don’t give me any sass about it’s not being safe because of Covid. We all know it’s no worse than the flu.”

  Taking a deep breath, Guy shook his head. “It’s my hair. I can wear it the way I want.”

  His father’s reply had been a brutal slap, which made Guy’s mother gasp in dismay, before he grabbed Guy’s arm and marched him up to the bathroom.

  “Sit your pussyass down,” he said, pointing to the toilet seat before getting the scissors from the cabinet.

  When Guy tried to escape, his father had backhanded him so hard he fell to his knees. Yanking him to his feet, his father forced him to sit and then proceeded to cut his hair close to his scalp.

  “Clean up that mess,” he ordered when he’d finished, meaning the hair littering the bathroom. When Guy didn’t move fast enough to suit him, he hit him again. That seemed to release all the anger he felt toward his boss, Guy, and the world in general. The ensuing beating had left Guy sobbing in pain, which further infuriated his father. Dragging him to his bedroom, he ordered him not to leave until he apologized for not being man enough to take a few well-deserved punches.

  Instead, Guy had packed what he could and then tried to sneak out of the house while his parents were in the dining room. His father had seen him and physically made certain he left. Scrambling to his feet when he landed on his ass in the backyard, Guy limped away, his father’s angry words echoing behind him.

  “And here I am,” Guy said under his breath, four days later, as he waited for whoever had made the noise he’d heard to show themselves. When they didn’t, he crept closer to the Dumpster, ready to run if necessary. As he reached it, he heard a low growl and froze. It’s only a dog. But still…What if it’s a big one, trying to defend its territory? Not an idea he liked, but not a scary as the thought it could have been punks waiting to waylay him.

  He took off his backpack, holding it defensively as he eased cautiously along the front of the Dumpster. He was almost to the far side when he heard another growl followed, unbelievably, by a meow. Cats don’t growl like a dog, do they?

  Steeling his nerve, he went around the corner of the Dumpster and stopped, his eyes widening in surprise. A large, mangy mutt stood there, with a small gray kitten between its front paws.

  Taking off his mask, which by city law he had to wear, he stuck it in his pocket and said softly, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to do anything to you.”

  The mutt looked as if he didn’t believe him, but made no move to attack, although it did growl again.

  Dropping to one knee, Guy held out his hand, ready to pull it back if the dog tried to bite it. The dog remained where it was. The kitten, however, bounced toward Guy, meowing happily as if it had found another friend. The dog woofed what Guy thought was a warning, which the kitten ignored as it rubbed against Guy’s hand.

  “Aren’t you the cute one?” Guy told it, scratching behind the kitten’s ear. That earned him a loud, happy purr in reply. “See.” Guy looked at the mutt. “I’m safe, honest.”

  The dog relaxed enough to sit back on its haunches, warily eying Guy. The kitten bounced back to the dog, still purring as it leaned against his front leg, looking up at him and then back at Guy, as if to say, “I trust him.”

  “I won’t hurt you, I promise,” Guy whispered, reaching over to tentatively pat the dog. F
or a second he thought the dog would at best pull away, and at the worst attack. He sighed in relief when he did neither, allowing Guy to run his hand over the coarse hair on his head. Taking a closer look, Guy thought from the markings on his face that the dog might have some shepherd in him, mixed with some other long-haired breed. Now that he had relaxed, he didn’t seem quite so fearsome.

  “Who do you belong to, and why are you hanging around alleys?” Guy asked, running his hand over the dog’s neck, searching for a collar under the thick hair. He didn’t find one, and the kitten didn’t have one, either. “Runaways, like me?”

  Obviously neither animal answered, but he had the feeling they might be. Either that or someone had dumped them on the streets to fend for themselves. A lot of people had done that after the pandemic had struck, fearful their pets would catch the virus and pass it on to their owners, despite the experts saying that wasn’t possible.

  “Did the same person own you, or did you make friends because you’re afraid of people? Though you don’t seem too afraid of me, now, especially you, cat.” Guy sat down with his back against the Dumpster so he could pick up the kitten, settling it between his crossed legs.

  The dog watched, his eyes moving from Guy to the kitten, and then back to Guy. Slowly he eased closer to them, pausing to sniff Guy’s backpack.

  “I don’t have any food in there,” Guy told him, figuring he was probably hungry. After all, a dog can’t dig in the trash. Well, he probably could if he found a trash can, but if what I’ve discovered means anything, the only places to find something to eat are in Dumpsters or the trash bins outside of fast-food joints and no way could he knock them over. “Hold on,” Guy said, getting up so quickly that the kitten skittered back between the dog’s feet. “I’ll be right back.”

  He walked down the alley to a Dumpster that belonged to a restaurant, hoping there’d be something edible in it—for him and the animals. He hated the idea of digging through the remains of other people’s meals, looking for his dinner, but he had quickly figured out it was the only way to survive without spending the few dollars he’d left home with. He wanted to hang onto the money in case of emergencies. Not that fending off starvation isn’t one, but who knows what’ll happen before I get up the nerve to start begging. He’d read articles online about street people for a class assignment and knew that was one way to make money for food. There were other ways, too, but he swore to himself that there was no way he’d sell drugs, or his body, no matter how desperate he was.

  The restaurant leavings were scanty but he managed to find several slices of bread, a bit of steak, two partially-eaten hamburger patties, and lettuce and tomatoes he figured had once been a couple of salads. He used the bread to create two sandwiches of a sort, which would make it easier to carry the food back to where he’d left the animals. When he turned around, he found he wouldn’t have to do that. The dog was standing there, with the kitten right behind him, their gazes locked on Guy’s hands. He gave the steak to the dog and some of the hamburger to the kitten before returning to where he’d left his backpack. As soon as he sat, they were there, watching him.

  “Hell, I can deal with veggie sandwiches,” he told them, dividing the rest of the hamburger between them. It was gone before he taken two bites of his own meal. He smiled when the kitten pawed his knee, shaking his head. “I don’t think you’d like bread, lettuce, and tomato. You, on the other hand…” He tossed the dog half a slice of bread. “That’s it for now, you two. Maybe we’ll get lucky in another alley. Well, if you stick around.” He wondered what the chances were of that. Sure, they followed me to the Dumpster, but that might be it.

  “Or not,” he said a minute later when he got up, put on his backpack and mask, and started down the alley, keeping a cautious eye open for anyone who might be interested in him in a bad way. They passed a couple of homeless men sitting in doorways, who pulled back into the shadows when the dog growled at them, but thankfully didn’t attack.

  By the time they reached the end of the alley, the dog was walking beside Guy. The kitten, being much smaller, was trying its best to keep up. Guy paused long enough to pick it up and then check the street. It was getting late enough that there weren’t many people around, but those who were seemed harmless. Or at least they’re not paying any attention to me.

  Still, he wasn’t taking any chances. He waited for a break in traffic then hurried across the street to the next alley. When they got there, the dog trotted ahead of him, swinging its head right and left, for all the world like he was making certain it was safe to go down it. Apparently he thought it was because he kept going, although he stopped partway down to growl at someone huddled in a doorway. Then he looked back a Guy as if asking, “Are you coming or not?”

  Guy followed him, feeling safer than he had since leaving home. Not that he thought the dog would really protect him in case of trouble despite his reaction to other homeless people in the alleys, but having him around might give a punk second thoughts. The dog paused beside a Dumpster, sniffing, moved on to the next one, and stopped.

  “You smell food?” Guy asked. Putting the kitten down, he lifted the lid. “Jackpot, well sort of.” There were cans of food, mostly tuna, ravioli, spaghetti, and soups. It took him a moment to realize he was behind a small grocery store, and that the cans were all past the ‘sell by’ date marked on the lids. “Now all I need is a can opener. It there’s a convenience store anywhere close…” He hated digging into his small funds but decided this did constitute an emergency and one can opener wouldn’t break him.

  Putting the cans in his backpack he dug around, looking for what had caught the dog’s attention in the first place. Under a couple of bags he found two one-pound packages of raw hamburger, also past their ‘sell by’ date. He wasn’t about to eat it, but he knew the dog and kitten would with no hesitation. Unwrapping one, he dumped the meat on the ground and used the Styrofoam tray to cut off a quarter of it for the kitten. To his surprise, the dog seemed to know he wasn’t to touch it, leaving it for the kitten while he gobbled down his share. Guy found an old newspaper and wrapped the other package in it before putting it into his backpack.

  As soon as the animals finished eating, Guy picked the kitten up again, moved down the alley to the street, then turned left and walked to the corner of the block. Looking both ways, he spotted an open convenience store. When he got there, he found a dark corner in the parking lot, put the kitten down, and told it and the dog to wait. Whether they understood the word or only his tone of voice, they sat, watching as he went into the store. He roamed the aisles, well aware that the clerk was keeping an eye on him. Bet he thinks I’m going to shoplift something. He hated the idea, but knew it was realistic. Finally finding a can opener, he took it to the counter, picking up a bottle of water from a cooler on the way.

  “You homeless?” the clerk asked from behind the Plexiglas barrier separating him from customers. He sounded sympathetic, not demeaning.

  Guy nodded at he took out his wallet.

  “Tell you what, that water’s on sale. Buy one, get one, so go get another.”

  Although he hadn’t seen a sign on the case saying it was, Guy didn’t hesitate to do what the clerk said. He paid for his purchases and thanked the clerk for his kindness.

  “Eh, no problem. I was there once, way back when. I’d throw in a couple of candy bars but they keep track of the inventory.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have let me have the water.”

  The clerk shrugged. “I’ll tell them I drank it, if they figure out they’re one short.”

  “Thank you!”

  “No problem. Grab some of the plastic spoons from the service counter, and some condiments if you want.”

  Guy did, thanked the man again, and left, returning to where he’d left the animals. He wondered if they’d still be there and was very relieved to find they were. He scooped up the kitten and with the dog right beside him walked a couple of blocks before turning onto a street where he knew th
ere was a vacant house two blocks down that he could get into through a broken window in the basement.

  He’d found it the previous night, climbed inside, and felt his way to stairs leading to the first floor, hoping there wouldn’t be a dozen other street kids crashing there. There had been a couple, but they’d ignored him so he returned the favor. Using the meager illumination that spilled through the dirty windows from a streetlight, he’d made his way to a spot where he’d felt marginally safe—a small, debris-strewn room he thought had once been a pantry. He was glad it was summer as, unlike most of the other homeless people he’d seen, he didn’t have a sleeping bag or even a blanket to cover himself.

  * * * *

  When they arrived at the house, and the broken window, Guy stuffed his mask in his pocket before telling the dog, “We’re here.” The dog looked singularly unimpressed and Guy wondered if he’d balk at going inside. He hoped not, because he liked the sense of security the dog gave him. He put the kitten down before climbing through the window and then reached up to get it. Holding it against his chest, he looked at the dog who was eyeing him dubiously. “Come,” he whispered, taking two steps back. A moment later the dog jumped down beside him. Guy patted his head and then walked cautiously through the dark basement to the stairs.

  When they got to the top, the dog gave a deep growl, followed by a warning bark. Guy heard rustling and then someone called out, “Keep the dog away from us.”

  He wrapped his hand in the long hair at the dog’s neck, knowing it would do nothing to restrain him if he decided to attack whoever was there. “Behave,” he said firmly. The dog looked up at him and relaxed…marginally…as they walked through the empty kitchen into what had probably been the dining room. Three teens sat on sleeping bags along the far wall.

  The dog growled, again, but didn’t leave Guy’s side.

  “He gonna attack if you tell him to?” one of them asked, pulling back into the shadows against the wall.