The jingling of the bell as the door opened was something all too familiar to most who entered this building, but to the boy, it was almost alien. It was a sound of hospitality to him, something he hasn't seen or felt for the longest amount of time. Regardless, the boy walked in and let the door close behind him, he approached the bar and sat down on one of the stools before it. He looked before him, and the entire time the bartender was watching him, from the moment he walked in to the moment he sat down, the bartender's eyes were glued to the boy. Watching his every movement, examining how he looked, everything. The bartender knew everything that happened prior to him walking in just by his appearance. The boy's shoes were bloodied with fresh blood, as were the bottom of his jeans and his hands. No matter what he did, licking or wiping, the blood stained his skin. He would have to wash his hands thoroughly if he wanted to get rid of the blood on his hands, but no matter how much he washed, he would have to live knowing he took another man's life.
"So what brings ye' here, youngin'?" spoke the bartender in a hearty voice. The bartender was smart, attempting to make the boy feel safe and welcomed. He knew that even if he were a murderer, he was still a child at heart.
"I-It's been... rough, to say the least. I was told to come here by a merchant selling ammunition in one of these buildings a few blocks down. He seemed positive you guys were kind hearted to those who returned the favor. I've been seeking a place to refill my supplies and what not for future ventures, l-like food." said the boy, his hand reaching to his face to pull his mask down so he was more clear when he spoke.
"Karl? Kalashnikov Karl, huh? Haha, that bastard! I thought he done hit the dirt, guess I was wrong! Well, listen here young blood, I can see that you'se a little distraught, somethin' prolly' on yer mind, aye? Tell you what." The man smiled, sliding a cup onto the table, grabbing a bottle behind him and pouring a drink for the young boy. "I got me an apartment upstairs, all these lil' businesses do, I'll let you stay a couple nights if you can help me run the bar for a couple days, yeah?"
The boy took the cup in hand, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip. The flavor was strong, and he coughed as he brought it back down to the table. Alcohol, he was never a fan of it.
"It... seems fair, I don't quite have anywhere else to go. I-I need a break from the city anyways."(edited)
"That's the spirit! Aye, by the way, what's yer' name, huh? Can't make friends if you don't got they names, yeah?"
"Jinx."
"Jinx? Hah, fake name I see. You think I'm a fool?"
"My name is Jinx. It's the name I gave myself."
"What's your actual name then, son?"
Jinx fell silent, breaking eye contact with the man. He could not recall his actual name, it had been so long since he even heard his own name. He looked back up at the man, who was awaiting an answer.
"I don't... know." Jinx said weakly, and the man leaned in closer to him, tilting his head.
"You don't know, huh? Well, 'ey, I don't wanna press you or nothin', if you don't wanna say nothin', then you don't wanna say nothin', I respect that." The man smiled, extending his hand to the boy over the bar. "My name is Darnell. Darnell James, if that rings a bell."
"It doesn't." Jinx replied.
"You ain't fun, but I ain't gonna take the shit out of you for it. Come on, get up, I'll show you around. There ain't much, but it's still helpful, ain't it?"
"Yeah, sure." Jinx said, getting out of his seat and adjusting the straps on his rucksack out of habit. Darnell walked around the bar and walked past all the seats to the back of the pub. Jinx followed as the man passed the bathrooms, the third door opening to a flight of stairs that went up. They both walked up the stairs, Darnell going step by step. He seemed to have a visibly bad knee, but he was making effort to keep going. Jinx admired that, Darnell was an old black man, worn away by time, but he was still alive and kicking. That was something Jinx really admired about old people, how they just keep living. He expected to die before he was ten, but Jinx overcame his own expectation and lived to the age of fifteen, and maybe there were more years to come. Darnell had reached the top of the stairs, opening the door and turning around, stepping back and gesturing for Jinx to walk in.
"Well? Come on in boy! Bed ain't gonna sleep in itself!" he joked, and Jinx shook his head, walking up the stairs and through the doorway past Darnell. He looked around, the apartment was seemingly well kept. Lights were on, not flickering, the paint was smooth, not peeling, and the furniture was nice, not falling apart. Jinx was in awe, he had never seen something like this, only in those books that he took in the library a few months back.
"This is... amazing." Jinx said, not able to keep his mouth shut. His jaw dropped in awe.
"It really ain't that big, youngin'. I mean, it's better than most of the shit you got lying 'round these parts, but it ain't what I envisioned when I first started out here." said Darnell, who walked up behind Jinx and offered to take his rucksack, holding his hands out. Jinx turned and shook his head.
"Thank you, but no. I'm keeping the bag." Jinx said sternly, giving Darnell a cold and harsh stare as a punishment for even making the offer.
"Aye, was just tryin' to be considerate, ain't no need for that." Darnell said, chuckling almost, like it were a joke. It wasn't a joke, not to Jinx. That bag meant everything to him, it had all of his supplies AND his main firearm, losing that bag meant losing everything he ever worked for, and he'd might as well end up just like that man earlier. Jinx continued to stare at Darnell before breaking eye contact, walking off to look around the apartment. It was small but it had a welcoming atmosphere, it seemed a little dusty, but all of the furniture was well kept, all of the lights seemed to work, the water was running, all kinds of things that one would expect to be in a normal apartment was there. The house smelled a little musty, but that just made it seem more genuine. This was truly a safe haven, a place to come to forget about all of the tragedy and hardship that went on outside of a place like this.
Then, Jinx stumbled across a small room, in that room was a bed that was small enough to fit only one person. He examined the room closer, seeing a nightstand on one side, but a chair on the opposite side. Beside the chair was a children's book, and upon further inspection, a picture frame with a little boy in it rested atop the nightstand. It became apparent to Jinx that Darnell may have had a son, and he was no longer with him. Jinx heard footsteps behind him as Darnell spoke lowly, almost sad.
"Yeah, that was my little boy's room right there." He spoke softly, not like when he first greeted Jinx upon his arrival. "He was sweet, always up to somethin', I loved the little bastard to death."
"I don't wanna ask, but-" Jinx started, soon to be cut off almost immediately by Darnell.
"Yes." He said sharply.
"I'm so sorry."
"You don't need to apologize." Darnell said, before putting a hand on Jinx's shoulder and putting pressure for him to go forwards, in which Jinx did, walking into the room and taking off his rucksack, placing it gently on the hardwood floor. "This'll be your room while you stay."
"Please, respect it and treat it like you would your own."
"I promise you I will."
"Thank you, youngin'."
"Well, I suppose I'll let you get settled in, yeah? Don't worry much about sleeping in here, after all, he'd give it up for a youngin' like yourself if he was still here. He was such a thoughtful boy." Darnell spoke after the seemingly long moment of silence, his voice declining as he spoke. He sounded defeated, almost like he was about to break down bawling right before Jinx. "They shoulda' never taken that boy from me, they shoulda' never done it."
Jinx approached Darnell, putting a hand on his shoulder as Darnell's head dropped, his hands reaching up to cover his face. Jinx watched the man before him, who was so happy and cheerful, begin to break down. He realized that this man had went through the test of time, and he had much more under his belt than Jinx did. The hand on Darnell's shoulder soon pushed over his shoulder and wrapped around his back, Jinx's other arm wrapping around the other side as he embraced the old man.
"You're good man, you're good." Jinx said softly, trying to coax Darnell to stop crying. Darnell instead returned the embrace, pulling Jinx close to him. Jinx felt uncomfortable, but he understood the pain, he understood everything that this man was feeling, even if they weren't the same age, even if they were separated by several decades, he could feel that pain more than anything right now. Darnell sniffed, letting go of Jinx as Jinx let go of him, and wiped his nose with his coat's sleeve.
"I apologize, I... I really do. You shouldn't'a had to see me like this." Darnell said, his voice weak, he was no longer the jolly old man that Jinx had perceived him to be. He was just like everyone else, someone trying to make it by in this rough world, going through his fair share of pain and misery.
"It's fine, you don't gotta hide nothing from me. If I'm gonna live under your roof for however long, I'm gonna respect you as you would me, and I sure as hell wouldn't hide nothing from you. You're a kind soul, you didn't deserve any of this." Jinx said, his voice tinted with confidence. He was ready to do anything that this man asked of him. He may have acted cold when he had first met him, but he saw him through, and he knew that Darnell felt the cold of the world too. Darnell nodded, not speaking as he placed his hand on Jinx's head, ruffling his hair like he would've his own son. Then, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Jinx alone to himself for the time being.
Jinx looked back to the room, sighing as he took off his hunting vest, placing it gently atop the mattress in the bedframe. He wondered if Darnell cared that he had weapons on him, probably not, Darnell must've known, because once Jinx looked down at his boots, he saw that the wheat-colored work boots were stained with blood and black smears of gunpowder residue. Jinx shook his head in disappointment. He was a mess, most definitely, his jeans were dirtied with dust and dirt, his black hoodie seemed faded, and the vest that laid on the bed had a bullet hole in the back of it, some blood stains surrounding it as well. He sighed, walking out of the bedroom to find Darnell once again. As Jinx peered out from the bedroom, he saw that Darnell was nowhere to be found in the apartment. Jinx soon left the bedroom, walking to the stairwell door and opening it. He walked down the stairs to the bathroom hall, into the bar, where Darnell was back behind the counter, cleaning a glass with a rag. He immediately noticed Jinx, putting the glass down on the table and giving him a smile.
"Already wanting to work, huh?" Darnell said, placing his hands on the table, the glass between his arms.
"Yeah, guess so. What do you want me to do exactly?"
"See that mop n' bucket over there?" Darnell pointed to the corner next to the front door, and there it was, a mop and a bucket. "Pick that up n' get to moppin', ain't really that much for you to clean, and I ain't lettin' you touch my precious glasses, you heard?"
"Yeah yeah yeah, I heard you." Jinx said, followed by Darnell's cackling. He seemed to have completely forgotten that he was bawling his eyes out maybe ten minutes ago. He mustn't be depressed or something, if losing his son can't ruin him, then nothing can. Jinx made his way to the mop and bucket, taking both items and walking around the bar, placing the bucket under the faucet and letting it fill up. Once it was about half-full, he picked the bucket up out of the sink and took it to the center of the room. Surrounding both himself and the bucket were a couple tables with chairs and a pool table. It was your every day bar, just empty, which is odd. The bar was usually a little more active, it was a gun-free zone, most people respected the bar and dared not to raid it, with the exception of the U.S. military. The military would occasionally storm New York City and raid all of the buildings, looking for weapons of mass destruction.
They also ran sweeps through the city looking for Russian factions in hiding, as well as North Korean factions and other enemy factions that were operating inside of the U.S. The U.S. was paranoid, going through places as dead as Detroit looking for ammo stockpiles or camps. Even after the war, after everything had happened, after the world had went to utter shit, they continued fighting. It's nothing more than a waste of time to Jinx, but to the rest of the country? Being any of the nationalities mentioned before is akin to being Jewish during World War II. Jinx sighed, as he day dreamed he was mopping the floors of the pub, pushing it forwards and sweeping from side to side, taking steps and what not, trying to be careful not to slip. As he continued to sweep, he thought about everything all over again, he thought about the man that he watched die a while back, and he thought about the man that he had murdered before showing up to the bar. Everything seemed so fake, but deep down he knew it was all real.
This is all he knew, and it's all anyone ever knew nowadays. Only the wealthy were able to live without the thought of somebody sneaking up on them as they slept, putting a gun to their head and killing them in their sleep. They were also the same people running the country and keeping the war alive, funding the military and sometimes even offering their skills to assist the military to fight a war that everybody had lost. There was nothing good to come out of this war, everyone lost everything. Slowly the country was dying, and so was everyone in it. Jinx sighed as he put the mop back inside of the bucket, looking to Darnell who had finished cleaning the countertop and all of the glasses that came with it. Darnell smiled at Jinx, and Jinx gave him a blank stare in return.
"Good on ya', Jinx, ain't you one helluva janitor, huh?" He joked, and Jinx shook his head, swatting his hand at Darnell from the other side of the bar.
"Oh shut it." Jinx replied, walking away from the mop and bucket, leaving it in the middle of the room as he walked to Darnell, awaiting some kind of order. Darnell simply gave him a confused look for an answer.
"What? Your done, youngin', you ain't gotta work no more. You can go n' sleep." Darnell said, gesturing for Jinx to the bathroom hallway, where the stairwell to the upstairs apartment awaited him.
"Alright, suit yourself." Jinx said, stepping down and walking on off to the bathroom hallway.
He wondered to himself if anyone truly ever visited the pub. They must have, after all, that old man would have never said anything about it if it weren't such a hot spot, right? Jinx stopped in the hallway, looking back to Darnell, who continued to stand behind the bar, but instead of cleaning, Darnell had taken one of his freshly cleaned glasses and a bottle of liquor from the shelf behind him. He poured himself a drink and downed it as if it were water. Something was off, but he couldn't judge. Nobody was normal anymore, if anything, weird was the new normal. Jinx had decided to ignore his thoughts, and began to walk upstairs to his new apartment.