If You Fall

Forty

She'd been gone for two weeks on the tenth. The next day was stretching into evening as we sat around some previously frozen pizzas. I wasn't too picky about food, my past being as it was, but Digiorno did not compare to Reed's homemade delicious pies.

Dane had been texting all day with his sort-of-boyfriend, so when his phone buzzed yet again we paid no attention. Then he jumped to his feet, knocking over his beer and plate of pizza crusts. He held out his phone to Reed wordlessly, his eyes wide.

Reed also stood, taking it and reading. "Oh," he said. "Let's go then." He handed the phone to me and got his own phone and a couple of blankets off the chair where we stored clean laundry.

I looked at the screen. Several texts in blue reflected Dane's messages over the last two weeks asking where she was, begging her to call or text or answer somehow. A new one sat at the bottom.

come get her shes real sick

It was followed by a misspelled address not far from us, downtown.

I just got my purse and slipped on my boots without bothering with socks. I was the last one out the door and shrugged into my jacket as I got into the Jeep and pulled on my seat belt.

He turned onto the main road and glanced at me. "It'll probably be bad," he warned, not that he expected me to ask to stay behind or something.

I acknowledged his words with a nod and leaned over to tie my boots. It wasn't raining, which was nice, but the cold was chilling. The last of the light was draining from the day and the deep shadows appeared ominous as we drove through them.

"Fuck," Dane said from where he was hanging between our seats.

"She'll be okay," Reed assured him, his voice sounding calm. I could tell by the way he was white knuckling the steering wheel, though, that it was just for Dane's sake. "She'll be okay," he repeated.

It took us a little under ten minutes to get to the part of downtown the address was in. It was the worst part of the city, crawling with mangy dogs, filth and garbage everywhere, drug dealers blatant on the corners. 

I'd only been there once before, when I was lost, and had almost peed my pants in fear at one stop light when four or five skinheads with rotten teeth and swastika tattoos emerged from the shadows to surround my car. I'd gone through that red light and found a freeway entrance and stayed far away ever since.

Reed parked in front of a falling-down building. It had been a check cashing center at one point but had clearly been closed for a long time. There was no door, simply an open doorway where two people slept. A bedroll was discarded next to them on the sidewalk, guarded by a scrawny young pitbull.

It was dark now, and I looked to Reed for what to do next, anxiety tightening my chest.

"Okay," he said, turning off the Jeep and turning to both of us. "Okay. Let's make this quick." He looked at me, his eyes alert for the first time in days, it seemed. "Stay attached to me, chérie. This won't be pretty." He turned a little more to look at Dane. "At all costs, mon frère." He nodded at me, reached to get a flashlight from my feet, and opened his door.

"At all costs," Dane repeated, a vow. 

We got out and the dog was on his feet and growling low in its throat. Dane stepped in front of me as Reed came around the front of the car, clapping his hands sharply at the animal. It cowered back but its hackles didn't go down, and it continued to growl low in its throat. It was only as tall as my knees but that didn't make me feel better.