Chapter 3: Part 4, Wayward Derelicts

Note from the author: Well here it is! I hope this installment finds you well. I even had some time to do a little art for this one. I hope you like it! William Zedalis.

A cold dew collected on him as the predawn progressed into early morning. The rain had stopped but still fell from trees in fat droplets to the puddles far below. Curious crows gathered at the corners of his vision and awaited his departure. The prospect of a free meal of carrion was far more tempting then the ominous figure sitting nearby. A large crow landed on the headstone that marked Jonesy’s final resting place and questioned Patchwork with a shrill cry. Like a statue coming to life after long years in a motionless pose, he slowly stood and stoically walked away. Another shrill cry taunted him as he continued walking. A wry smile crossed his face as the cry was cut short with a growling crunch. The blurred form of the dog landed with a thudding roll and immediately stood with predatory reflexes, a bent wing hung limply from its jaw. Shortly after Pieces trotted up to Patchwork and proudly pushed a feathered lump into his palm. Its minuscule size teased him with its warmth as he swallowed it. Unspoken thanks passed between the two as Patchworks hand absentmindedly stroked the damp scruff on the back of Pieces neck.

The sun, still hidden in the East, was already causing his eyes to squint as atrophied nerves fired and misfired causing bright spots to appear in the center of his vision. He would have to find shelter from the brilliance as he realized that, at least for the time being, he was a creature of the night. Though he felt pulled in multiple directions the hunger was back and urged him onward, while a deep seeded need to find answers burned blue within him. The image of those haunting eyes remained etched in his fragile mind. There was also the more human need to remove himself from the bloody scenes that dotted the landscape of the cemetery which pounded in the back of his head. Finally, he didn’t know how he knew it but, someone was out there... looking for him.

Passing through the cast iron gates of the cemetery he paused as a thought grabbed a hold of him and infused him with a childhood fear. It was the fear of the unknown. Somehow the dark familiarity of rows of granite and small stone monuments comforted him. He belonged there, and now he was leaving his birth place in the search of things undefined.

With the emerging sun behind him he headed west towards the city outline which cut into the wide landscape before him. The tops of the Prudential and Hancock towers glowed orange as their windows reflected the encroaching dawn. That was his destination. He was sure that the answers he sought lay buried within those crowded streets, and even if they weren’t there... food was.

Sounds of activity started to crop up around him as early risers awoke from peaceful nights of slumber. Delivery vehicles passed by, too busy to pay attention to the bum that stumbled slightly in the street. They wiped sleepers from their eyes just as casually as Patchwork wiped the drying blood from his face.

Further down the road the dilapidated form of a school took shape from a dissipating morning mist. Its broken widows stared unhappily at him as he approached. Beneath its boarded eyelids, within those dark pupils, a shaded safety resided.

The outside world once again retreated as he crawled through a partially boarded window. A cool dampness met him as he crossed the windows threshold. He returned its cool embrace with his own clammy handshake. Pieces nimbly followed through the window. The only sound he made was the slight crunching of broken glass under the pads of his feet. Although there was no outward sign, Patchwork could tell that his large companion also needed rest.

He turned to face his new surroundings. Through a settling dust he saw a long row of doors on his right which vanished into the darkness. Each door lay partially illuminated by rays of light which intruded through the tightly boarded windows opposite them. Tiny creatures scurried around in the shadows as their quiet solitude now became home for two more wayward derelicts.

A metallic rumbling echoed in the street outside as a large box truck struck the numerous pot holes which pitted the road. The sound brought Patchwork back to the task at hand. He needed to find security in this crumbling sanctuary and he needed to blanket himself within its darkness in order to reclaim some of his shattered reality.

The sun, now high in the morning sky, threw its brilliant rays across the hallway. They drove blinding spikes into his eyes as he approached the first door. He felt, more than saw that he had reached it by the change in texture, as broken plaster gave way to the raised grain of aged wood. He grabbed the slick metal of the door handle as he tried to gain access to the room beyond. The handle turned with the sound of grating metal and came loose as he pulled to open the door. He gazed down in frustration at the long metal rod that protruded from the brass orb he now held. His knuckles cracked as he squeezed it tightly in anger. His arm whipped in anger, burying the long metal shaft deep into the old wood with a muted thump. The effect of the violent penetration quelled the sudden fury that itched beneath his skin. Pieces scuttled around him sensing his sudden agitation. Then just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, as Patchwork moved on to the second door.

Opening the door he knew he had found what he was looking for as the acrid smell of urine and spilled beer bit at him through the darkness. A quiet click echoed through the room as he latched the door behind him. He entered slowly with Pieces following quietly behind. Out of the pitchy black, scattered school chairs reached out menacingly with hooking desk like limbs. Patchwork’s eyes continued to adjust to the darkness within when a faint sound caught his ear. It was the lumbering breath of someone sleeping. There, lying in the corner on a begrimed mattress was the glittering glow of a body enshrouded in the warmth of a drunken sleep. The sardonic smile was once again upon his face as stitches pulled it in odd directions.

The cold metal knob in his hand slowly rose as he approached the slumbering meal. Breathlessly he mouthed the word "Me..."