The Strangers of Kindness Read Free

“Found it behind the bar,” he mumbled. “Sissy needs some.” Winnie knelt to feed the little girl.
    “Well, Mister, I’m sorry but Winnie’s right. Nobody gives us anything, and I suspect you’ll be in an orange jumpsuit pretty soon. Don’t fight me, okay? And we won’t hurt you.”
    Theo nodded, defeated. He couldn’t bring himself to kick at them again. Surgeon and Curt stripped his jeans off him and Surgeon took his own off right there—he was naked underneath and grubby all over—and put them on. He smiled a little, said, “Still warm,” and then had the grace to look ashamed. “Sorry, Mister. Hope you have better luck soon.”
    He held out his arms like a shepherd gathering the flock and said, “Come on, let’s go. The Vagrant cops’ll be around pretty soon.”
    “Surge, what’s a debbitor?” Theo heard the little girl ask.
    The group faded into the shadows of the alley leaving Theo shaking in the cold in his BVD’s. His feelings surprised him. He couldn’t feel angry with them. He was just abysmally depressed.
    The cold rounded off his exhaustion and at last he slept, restlessly, with book dust and the feel of books haunting, comforting his dreams. With the first bus’squawking brakes he roused, and immediately the thought came to him that surely someone would see to it that they put some pants on him at least.  
    Surely a mostly-naked man hanging around on a street corner was an affront to polite society that had to be rectified, even if they didn’t do it out of pity.
    Wrong again. “Forgot,” he thought disgustedly, “I don’t exist, so how can I offend them?”
    The second day was much like the first, except that a newspaper reporter came down to take some pictures and examine the set-up so he could describe it accurately. He didn’t look at Theo, either. “Your interviewing skills leave something to be desired,” Theo thought at him as the young journalist walked away, still jotting notes.
    Hunger, thirst, pain and degradation took their toll. By sunset Theo hung like a dead thing, insensible to anything around him. The evening was similar to the night before, except he was nearly raped by a drunkenly aggressive youth who was finally dragged away by a buddy who hissed, “You want people thinkin’ you’re a fag?” and managed to lead him off down the street.
    Deep in the night voices stirred his consciousness. It was the kids again. They were sitting against the building where he couldn’t see them. He listened wearily for a few minutes then decided they weren’t talking about or to him, so he let his head drop. Nightmare shreds of thoughts slid around in his mind, eluding his concentration. But he still heard them.
    “But why do we have to leave the basement?” Sissy implored.  
    “Because we gotta keep moving,” Surgeon answered. “The VO cops will find us. We’ll find another place. It’ll be even better,” he told her.
    “You don’t want the VO’s to getcha,” Curt said teasing.” They’ll send you to the orphanage.”
    “The work house,” Winnie’s cynical voice corrected.
    “Yeah, they’ll sew your lips together,” Curt said, pushing it.
    “But then I couldn’t eat!” Sissy objected.
    “Not those lips.” Curt’s shocking venom took Theo’s breath away.
    “Curt!” Surge barked. “Cut it out.”
    “It’s true. They don’t want ‘em to breed more poor people so they sew ‘em up.”
    “That’s crap. They might tie their tubes. It’s standard surgery,” he added, half to himself. Theo’s curiosity was piqued. That had sounded . . . almost like . . . someone rubbing a favorite stone. He wondered how Surgeon had got his name.
    They were quiet then, and Theo faded.
    Even when the crisp, bright workday broke with the bustle of commerce all around, he didn’t come to. When a fender-bender crashed at the corner right behind him and the tail-gating car’s headlight exploded shooting slivers of glass at him, he didn’t stir. There was a