Little Boy Lost

Chapter Seven

By GCS

What he soon found out was that the feelings he had as a boy were correct. The world was a harsh and cruel place.

Like most seventeen year olds, Johnny had no real plan. He just thought boldly that he could go out there in the world; find a job and a place to live. He never considered that his age would be a deterrent.

Things didn't go so well for him on his own.

At seventeen it was hard to find employment.

At first he stayed with a few of his friends from track, one night at one house and then another while he worked different jobs. But since he had graduated early and they were still in school he no longer had much in common with his friends. He soon moved on.

He had many odd jobs he'd been forced to endure, flipping burgers over a hot grill had sucked not to mention the burns from the popping grease that speckled his forearms and the awful stretchy uniforms and ridiculous hat that made his head itch, pouring concrete was hot and dirty and he had ruined his shoes, walking dogs, even though he loved animals, had been the worst, because the owners insisted that he scoop up all of their deposits which he never understood, and he'd mowed more lawns than he cared to remember.

The one job he had wanted was not to be, at least not now.

Johnny stared at the desk clerk at the fire academy. "You don't make any exceptions? My aunt would give her permission."

"No," the middle aged motherly woman looked back at the young man. She could see the longing in his eyes and determination set in his brow, but the rules had been in place since the beginning of the department. "I'm sorry. You have to be eighteen."

"Thank you." He said softly as he turned and slowly walked to the double glass doors that he had hoped would lead him to his future. As he walked by the rows of framed portraits a shudder ran down his back. It was as if the men were staring at him, disappointed in him for trying to bend the rules. He ducked his head and pushed through the doors, bound down the stairs and retrieved his things that he had stowed in the bushes. He squared his shoulders, turned back to the building and declared in a soft statement, "I'll be back. In a year…I'll be back." Then he turned on his heel and started down the sidewalk in search of something else.

He needed a job, something that would pay well enough to afford him a place to stay even if he couldn't get any landlords to allow him to sign a lease because he wasn't of legal age.

As he walked down the long road back on the side of the road he found a wallet. Stooping down, he picked it up and looked inside. There was no money in it. 'I guess it was stolen.' He glanced around to make sure no one was watching him. There was an ID in the wallet. It said the dark haired guy in the picture was twenty one. Johnny studied the small picture. 'If they don't look closelyit could be me.' He ended up using the ID to rent a motel room for the night, but that cost a lot of money. He wasn't able to stay there more than a few nights, which wasn't really such a bad thing. During one night Johnny awoke to a strange sound. When he flipped on the light and leaned over the side of the bed he saw several roaches scurry across the floor and beneath the baseboards. He'd already noticed that the room had a distinct smell of age mixed with stale body odor, and now with the unwanted visitors he knew he would be moving on by morning.

After a short time Johnny found himself living on the streets of Los Angeles, sleeping in door alcoves and in dark alleys or parking garages if he could slip in unnoticed before they closed for the night. He only did that when it rained, because if nothing Johnny was honest to a fault. He just didn't know what else to do.

He would go by and visit his aunt regularly at first, but after a while he lost weight.

"Either you've gotten taller or you've lost weight." His aunt looked him up and down.

Johnny shuffled under her gaze. "Taller I guess." He tugged at the waist band of his jeans pulling them up from where they puddled at his ankles from sliding down his too thin hips.

His aunt smiled at him. "Well you are staying for dinner this time aren't you?"

"Yes ma'am." Johnny's stomach growled in anticipation of one of his aunt's home cooked meals. But soon after dinner he made his excuses and left. He was too late for the shelter, so he would need to find a place to sleep.

He didn't want his aunt to know things weren't going well for him so he opted to call her most of the time instead. He had found out that there were places that fed the poor and sometimes he could get to sleep on a cot if he got in line soon enough, so Johnny would get out early to do the landscaping and cutting work he had become proficient at. That way he could finish early enough to get a good place in line at the shelter. He often washed in the yard hoses before rolling them back up and putting them away. One thing Johnny hated was feeling dirty.

He had come to know several of the other shelter residents, some older men who he had started eating dinner with, Gus and Bobby. Johnny enjoyed listening to their stories, and they always saved him a seat.

One night he was late getting back to the shelter and the line was cut off before he got to the front. Like so many each night he was turned away to fend for himself.

As he turned away from the place of refuge he had an uneasy feeling like something bad was about to happen, but he shook it off as silly. He could find an alley somewhere and hold up for the night. No one would find him there. He would just have to work faster tomorrow so he wouldn't get locked out.

With that in mind he set out in the darkened streets of the city to find a place to bunk down for the night.

Johnny found a diner that was still open and he went inside to get some dinner. He didn't need much, just enough to tide him over until he could go back to the shelter for breakfast, maybe a burger and fries. He looked up at the sign above the door "Jimbo's Diner" graced the sign face. He slipped inside and shuffled over to the nearest booth. He slid his knapsack onto the bench and sat down. An older woman came over and took his order. Johnny knew this would take more money than he needed to spend if he hoped to get a permanent place to stay when he turned eighteen in a couple of months, but he was hungry. Maybe he would be able to pick up a couple of odd jobs to make up the difference on the weekend.

When his plate of food was placed on the table he noticed there was also a small salad and a piece of pie. He looked up at the man who delivered the food. "Um I…this is not…I only ordered the burger and fries."

"Well kid…it's like this. I'm about to close and I have all this pie that won't be good tomorrow so I was hoping you might help me by eating some of it." And then the man smiled, turned and walked away. He was behind the counter before Johnny had time to think of a response. He did the only thing he could do. He ate every bite.

When he got up to pay the waitress told him that it would only be three dollars. Johnny knew that was wrong. The hamburger alone was two. He tried to protest, but she wouldn't change the price, and she wouldn't accept any tip. Stunned at their kindness Johnny decided that the alley behind the diner might well be a safe hideaway. He slipped around to the side of the building and found a dry spot behind the dumpster. He was tired and his belly full. He spread out his blanket and folded his clothes to use as a pillow. It didn't take long for him to drift off to sleep.

He was awakened by voices.

When he sat up to investigate he found several guys that he had hung out with before. They were all street dwellers as they liked to be called. "Hey guys what's up?" He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He noticed that it had started sprinkling. He began to gather up his things. He would need to find a place out of the rain.

The group of guys that had pretended to be his friends now only wanted the little bit of money Johnny had collected from cutting yards that week. He didn't keep much money. His aunt had opened him a checking account when he had moved to LA. He put most of his money there for safe keeping.

"Hand over the cash Gage!"

Johnny backed against the wall. "I don't have much. It's mine. I earned it."

He felt a sharp pain in his jaw when the first fist made contact; then several more fists slamming against his jaw. He bent over to try to deflect the punches only to feel more in his belly. Johnny fell to his knees. He could hear ringing in his ears. His eyes swam with the raindrops that had increased in speed and size. When he toppled to the ground he could feel the force of their feet against his ribs.

He moaned and swallowed trying to stop the acid wash that was making its way up his throat.

"Give us the cash you cry baby!"

Johnny could feel several hands holding him down while others rifled through his clothes in search of his money. He couldn't see their faces through the rain or his eye that had swollen shut. His jaw hurt and blood leaked from his split lip. Johnny fought hard lashing out and kicking with all he had. He tried bucking them off, but there were too many of them.

The last thing he remembered was several shadowed figures laughing at him as they counted his money. They left him there in the cold wet alley, bloody and barely aware. He slipped into darkness just as they turned the corner.