by Jon Mills
“Spare any change?” A toothless black guy came up to Jack but he didn’t slow down to answer. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t have given him some money but you didn’t go flashing cash in this kind of neighborhood. Once one person saw you handing out bills, they would swarm around you like vultures. That’s the way it was in some of the poorest areas of New York.
As he passed by a tent belonging to a thin man who looked like an addict, he got all agitated.
“Get the fuck away.”
Jack ignored him and kept on moving. He had to be getting close. Blue and white tarps covered some of the tents. The people that stood across from them were no doubt the owners. They glared at Jack as he got nearer. He changed direction and crossed the street. Common sense ruled in places like this. Unless it was really necessary you didn’t stick around here when the sun went down. All manner of shit happened in sketchy neighborhoods full of desperate people.
Tents formed a perimeter around sections of buildings while men slouched against walls. It was depressing and heartbreaking to see so many people in dire circumstances. And yet Jack knew it was easy for anyone to wind up there. It all came down to decisions. A snort here, an unpaid bill there, or being kicked out of your home. Some might assume they were all drug addicts, bums, people who didn’t want to pay taxes but it couldn’t be further from the truth. If it was anything like some of the run-down areas of New York, there were many homeless who once had nice homes, families and lived way above the poverty line.
There were people of all ages, gender, and race here. Life showed no preference.
Jack walked on, passing by drug dealers and old men selling individual cigarettes out of open boxes in front of them. There was something for everyone here. Illicit activities, sex, social services, and religion. The air felt heavy, and the heat only made the streets smell like sewers.
It didn’t take him long to reach the address. Across the street was a center for community health. In front of him was a four-story building. The sign on the front said Unified Rescue Mission. Jack took a deep breath. He wasn’t into religion but he was curious.
He went inside. Immediately as he passed through two sets of doors he could hear babies crying and see all manner of people waiting in seats. For a few seconds he wondered if he should have even entered. What was he searching for? What was he hoping to find? For all he knew the guy could have been someone Eddie had met years ago while on vacation.
“Can I help you, sir?”
He was about to find out.
Chapter Six
Evie Cho sat huddled alongside her elder brother Zhang in a room with nine others. All of them were cold, hungry, and thirsty. The eighteen-day journey had been hellish. Five days locked inside a container before it was even placed on the ship. Nearly two weeks of enduring the worst seasickness she’d ever experienced. Not even the ginger tablets they had taken helped. While the container had lighting, the battery had died by day six. Flashlights were useless, they too ran their course and then it was unbearable. Like never waking up from a nightmare. Two men had died on the way over. The smell of their rotting corpses had made her even sicker than being tossed around by the worst wave. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Waste buckets had overturned on sleeping bags drenching them in feces and urine.
“We’ll stay together, won’t we?”
“Quiet,” Zhang said.
At thirteen, Zhang was two years older than her. She listened to his every word and clung to him the whole way over. Everything about America made her afraid. She’d learned some English from a foreign student who’d attended their school for a year but not enough that she felt confident to have a full-blown conversation.
Two men came into the room and begun ushering them out. As they exited the door one of them grabbed Evie.
“Not that way. Over there.”
“No, please. Zhang.”
Zhang tried to explain that she was too young to be separated from him but they wouldn’t listen. When her brother tried to protest he was smacked to the ground and told that if he tried again, he would regret it. Zhang gave her one final pitiful look as another thug forced him through a doorway. Tears streamed her face. Fear bombarded her mind as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Her father had told her she was going to work in a factory. That she would be taken care of and would soon come to love America.
“Move, now.”
Another girl took hold of Evie’s wrist and pulled her. She had come over at the same time. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen years of age.
“Do as they say.”
They were guided out of the building into the back of a truck where they spent the next twenty minutes on the floor. The ride was bumpy and several times she found herself coughing from the fumes.
“Where are they taking us?”
“What’s your name?”
“Evie Cho.”
“Lifen.”
Evie’s eyes drifted across the room to the other three girls who were all similar in age. All of them looked as petrified as her. When the truck finally came to a standstill, the back door flew up and again they were hustled and pushed forward like they were about to enter a concentration camp. It wasn’t that far wrong. She noted they were in an alley, somewhere in Chinatown as she saw banners and a sign for a restaurant. They were led into a steam-filled kitchen. Two cooks dressed in white yelled out orders. Fire flickered on a large metal stove and food sizzled in woks. Her stomach grumbled. It was the first time in over two weeks that she’d smelled hot food. As they were guided out into a hallway she caught a glimpse of tables and people eating. Led down into a storage basement, she felt fear crept over her. Adjoining the room was a small area with six mattresses. No pillows, a few thin blankets and that was it. One by one they were lined up and made to wait. For what? She didn’t know. She didn’t like this place. It was dank and musty.
A few minutes passed before an older woman came down the stairs. She was short, and had her hair pinned back tightly. She walked up and down, lifted the chins of a few of the girls, and spoke to them in Chinese.
“You will get up at six and work until ten at night, at which time you will be given a bowl of food, be allowed to take a shower and then you will sleep here. You will do this seven days a week until you have paid your debt. You will sleep, work, eat and then do it all over again. If you have a problem with that, speak now.”
Evie wanted to say something but didn’t have the nerve to. She was close to bursting into tears. All she wanted was to get her brother back and to go home. But that wasn’t going to happen.
“Please. Can I speak to my mother?” a girl said.
“About?”
Her head bowed as a sign of respect. “I don’t wish to offend but I can’t do this. I…”
The woman didn’t show any sign of sympathy. She walked up to the girl and simply slapped her across the face. The girl didn’t burst into tears but she was on the verge. Her eyes bubbled up and her hands were shaking.
“You have a debt to pay. You aren’t going anywhere until it’s paid.”
Then she proceeded to walk up and down again in front of them while she spoke. “I’m sure they have already told you what will happen if you try to run, but for those who weren’t listening.” She glared at the girl. “Let me make it clear. You are here because your parents want a better life for you, and so you can send money back. If you attempt to run, it will not end well for you or your parents. Now enough talk about leaving. Go use the shower. Your work clothes are over there,” she pointed to a closet. “You start immediately.”
With that she turned and strolled back upstairs. All of them stood there unsure of what to say or do until Lifen headed over to the shower and removed her clothes. There was no curtain or privacy of any kind. Evie undressed in front of the others. All of them looked the way she felt. Freezing cold water burst out of the pipes as one by one they took a turn in the shower washing away the grime from the storage locker. With her back turned to t
he others and the rush of the water masking her tears, she sobbed quietly.
Chapter Seven
Jack had been waiting in the lobby for over an hour before John Dalton appeared. He was a short, stocky man that reminded him of Eddie. Light hair, brown eyes and with a smile on his face, he waved at a few families. He was heading in Jack’s direction when he got blindsided by a Chinese family. He couldn’t hear what they were talking about but by the look of desperation on their faces it wasn’t good.
“Janice, can you see to the Lo family?” he said to a young blonde that was behind a desk already overwhelmed by a large lineup of homeless individuals. John turned back and came over with his hand extended.
“Jack Winchester, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You have?”
He wasn’t expecting John to know him.
“Yeah, Eddie mentioned you a number of times. Come on, I’ll take you through to my office. It’s a little bit quieter. By the way, nasty cut on your lip.”
“Yeah, I tripped getting off the bus.”
Returning to the office was like trying to hack through a dense jungle. Every time John passed by someone they either had something good to say, or wanted to know how soon they could get into a program.
“We have a lot of programs here. Most of the people that come in just want a bed for the night, a hot meal, and a place to get away from the streets. We provide that but it’s only the tip of what we do. So how long are you in L.A. for?”
“I’m not quite sure right now.”
He cast a curious look at Jack. The truth was he didn’t know how long he was going to stay. Everything he had done since stepping out of Rikers had been driven by the need to find peace, solitude and create a new life. Whatever that looked like, it didn’t matter. It just had to be better than what he’d been in.
Inside the office, John gestured for Jack to take a seat.
“Can I get you some coffee?”
“Yeah, that would be nice.”
Jack leaned back into the comfort of leather and took in his surroundings while John ground beans. He looked at the desk. There was a photo of John, an attractive woman, and a small baby.
“So how did you know Eddie?”
He was placing a filter into the coffeemaker when he paused. “He helped my mother.”
After knowing how Eddie had got involved with his own mother, Jack had to wonder if the help he’d given hadn’t been somehow tied to a relationship.
“Your mother?”
With his brow knit together, he cast a glance back, and then closed the door.
“Did Eddie ever tell you what he did? For a living, I mean?”
“Eventually,” Jack said thinking about the letter.
“My mother was in an abusive relationship. The guy nearly killed her. Ten years ago she tried to get a restraining order placed on him. We were living in New York at the time. After my mother got into a housing project for battered women, a reporter did a piece on the place and well, it ended up getting published, but not before the guy showed up and beat her black and blue. When the article finally came out it had a slightly different spin on it than it originally had. Instead of discussing the benefits of battered women’s shelters, it highlighted the flaws in the justice system. My mother contributed to that article and… anyway, to cut a long story short, Eddie must have read that and contacted my mother. He said he could deal with the problem for a price.” He paused for a second to place a scoop of coffee in the filter, then he closed the top and it began percolating. “I was only sixteen at the time. Let’s just say we never heard from that guy again. I kind of figured what Eddie had done and as opposed as I am to violence, there are times when… well, the law only goes so far. Eddie gave my mother peace. We moved out here, she invited him out a few years back.”
Jack took out the photo and glanced at it. “This was it?”
John came over and took a look. “Yeah. I had just got started here at the mission. I guess he wanted to make sure that everything turned out okay. I also think my mother was a little fond of him.”
“So you’re not related?”
He let out a short laugh. “Oh no.”
“But you look like him, a little.”
“You think?”
He seemed to take it as a compliment.
“Anyway, enough about me. How is the old dog?”
Jack dropped his chin. “I’m afraid he’s dead.”
“Oh my god.” He breathed in deeply and took a seat. “How?”
“Mafia related.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “He was a good man. I told him he should get out of what he was doing. It was too dangerous. But he wouldn’t listen…” he trailed off lost in his memories of someone he barely knew. But that was Eddie. It didn’t matter how long people knew him, they could never forget him. He had this way of leaving a lasting impression on you — whether good or bad.
John rose to his feet as the coffee finished brewing.
“Take milk or sugar?”
“No, just black.”
He poured out two cups and handed one off to Jack.
“You mentioned he spoke about me?”
He swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “Yeah, he brought you up in conversation.”
“When?”
“When my mother asked him if he had any family.”
Jack felt his chest become heavy. Eddie had never referred to him as family, even though that’s how it felt growing up around him, and ultimately that’s what he was in the end.
“He was my father.”
“Really?”
He studied Jack’s face. “Yeah, I can see the resemblance, now that you mention that.” He paused. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
They sat there drinking coffee. “So you have a place to stay?”
“Not yet, maybe you can suggest somewhere.”
“Oh, you can stay here if you like. We have beds.”
“No, I couldn’t. I have money, at least for now. I would feel bad taking up a bed when someone who doesn’t have anything could use it. No, I’ll just find a cheap motel in the area.”
“Well, that you’ll find. The place is full of welfare hotels. There is the Madison, which is on the corner of Seventh Street. You can’t miss it. It’s a six-story cream building.”
“Right. I’ll be sure to check it out.”
“What do you for a living, Jack?”
Jack took a sip of his drink and felt the caffeine awaken his senses. “I haven’t quite decided yet.”
“How long are you staying in L.A.?”
“Again, I’m not sure.”
John sat his cup on the side. “There are over eight thousand that are homeless in L.A. County; most of them wind up living on Skid Row and at some point show up on our doorstep. As you can imagine I tend to see a lot of people every day. One thing they all have in common is a look in their eye. Like they are lost. Lacking a sense of direction.” He paused. “Forgive me if this is a little out of line, but you have that same look.”
“I guess you can—”
Before Jack could finish what he was saying, he was cut off by a commotion outside. John jumped to his feet and rushed to the door. Outside in the hallway were two heavyset men dragging a young man. Hard features, dragon tattoos across their arms. They were wearing jeans with white T-shirts and both were packing.
“Hey,” John shouted rushing towards them while at the same time calling for security. Both of them were yelling in Chinese. Upon seeing John approach, they pulled out Desert Eagles from the front of their pants. John tossed his hands up.
“Whoa, I’m just trying to help. What’s going on?”
The two men didn’t speak a word of English. They just kept ranting while one of them tugged on the shirt of the young kid. He looked scared out of his mind. As much as Jack wanted to intervene he had no idea what was going on. The last thing he needed was to be brought into a heated dispute and wind up with a bullet in him. John backed up and the two me
n pulled the kid out through a door and then disappeared.
“What the hell was all that about?”
John didn’t answer him. “Janice, where is Jamal?”
“He quit two days ago.”
“What?”
He sighed and stared off in the direction of the door where the men had gone, then returned to the office as though it was just another day on the job.
“Care to tell me what that was about?”
He slumped down into his leather seat, resigned to the fact that he could do nothing. “Often we get Chinese immigrants who show up here looking for help. Of course we bring them in and try to help but it’s getting harder and harder. The snakeheads keep taking them back.”
“The what?”
He cast a glance out the window, a look of despair in his face.
“Snakeheads. Smugglers that bring them into the States in cargo containers and then force them to work off large debts. We’re talking anywhere from fifty to seventy thousand dollars. Most of them can’t pay it. They put them to work in restaurants in Chinatown, the unlucky ones end up in prostitution. Most of them are under sixteen.”
“There’s nothing you can do?”