We walked until we came into an old dilapidated apartment building. It had to bealmost sixteen stories high with a rustic outside staircase that was missing a bottomlanding. The top windows were either boarded up or smashed in. Stubborn shards of glasslined the frames and the paint looked like it was shit stained brown. We walked closerand we could see that there was an abandoned park in the back yard with a kiddy sizeswing set. Crushed liquor bottles and crack vials littered the grass like confetti. A briskwind pushed the swing seat back and forth.
There was a chain-linked fence with curly razor wire wrapped on top. It lookeddeadly. I wanted to throw myself right into it and scream as a thousand bolts of electricitysurged through my body. Then, the old woman wouldn’t have to worry about meanymore. I would just be one less nigger in the world. Ali yanked on the chain and shookthe huge padlock. He raised his hand in frustration. He was a good thief, but he sucked atpicking locks. He was silent for a minute and then he rushed off to the back area of thebuilding. I followed him. I stumbled over huge dislodges of gravel. We stopped andstared at a small hole in the fence. Ali lit a match and told me to hold it. Ali started tocrawl through it like a one-ounce mouse.
The flame burned my forefinger and thumb. I threw it down and sucked on mycharred fingers to ease the pain. There was a thick coat of darkness. Ali lit a match, and Isaw him positioned on the other side of the fence. Suddenly, there was a flash, a visionthat was clear but fleeting. It was of flames, massive flames. I shook my head, and mystomach began to quell from a foul aroma that had entered the air. It was flesh, the smellof burning flesh. Then I heard the words, loud like someone was screaming them in myear. The water. The water. The water. I shook my head vigorously, trying to get the voiceout. I looked over at Ali.
“Come on, we don’t have all day,” he said.
I moved in slowly, resting my cheek to the ground and sliding my body under thefence. I got up and my pants and coat were filthy. Man. It sucked being homeless. I had anewfound respect for bums. Now, I could understand why they smelled so bad. Like pigs,they rolled around in filth all day, and it was just too burdensome to be clean whensurvival was more important. I tried my best to wipe the dirt off my pants, but it wasuseless. I looked at the apartment complex. It appeared haunted, liked there were witchesand ghosts inside of it. I shivered from fear.
The place was even creepier inside. It reeked of burnt wood from a smoldering fire.The floor was weak and unstable and we felt that at any moment, it would crumble underour feet. We were careful with our steps, fearing that the wrong one would send usplunging through the floor. I could hear Ali’s breath. It was slow and heavy. He wasscared too. It was getting dim. Ali lit another match and speckles of light flickeredthroughout the room. We were standing in a foyer, and to our right was an empty elevatorshaft. To our left was a frangible staircase made of decaying wood, lined with a banisterthat had missing poles. There were brittle paint chips on the floor, and termite eaten holesin the walls.
Ali grabbed my hand and led me up the stairs. We stopped at the first apartment thatwe saw. The door was left ajar. There was darkness again. I was silent. I couldn’t see oreven hear Ali anymore. I waited patiently, telling myself to stay calm and not panic. Ishifted my feet and puffed out an air of white smoke. Oh man. I hope that he didn’t leaveme here by myself. Then, there was another flash of light. Ali was standing in the middleof the room with a rolled up newspaper in his hand. He stuck it into an old jar and lit it onfire.
“Okay, come closer because I don’t know how long this fire is going to last.” I gotcloser and held my palms out. My goodness, my body was so cold.
“Stay, here. I am going to look around,” he said, lighting another roll of newspaperon fire.
I wanted to argue with him and convince him to stay with me because I was scared,but I knew that he would get mad. I swallowed back a knot of fear and looked around theroom. It was much prettier in the dark. I peered off in the kitchen. Old dishes werestacked and caked with grime. The tile on the floor that was once white was now pissyyellow with a pallet of food stains. Roaches, crawled around gallantly, and rats left theirdroppings wherever they chose.
“Hey, keep the fire lit.” He handed me a pack of matches. “And keep the food closeto the fire so they don’t come near it,” he said, handing me a plastic bag.
I knew what he meant when he said they. I shivered from disgust. I looked outsideand saw large cotton balls of snow blowing in the wind. They smacked into the windowseal and dripped down the paneling. Shit, could this day really get any worse? Ali cameback in, shivering while
