King didn’t know how to use a trash can.

In just three months alone, my floor was covered with empty potato chip bags, smushed cigarette butts, beer bottles, and random papers. I didn’t even think it was possible for a soldier to have so much stuff in his haversack.

Every time I cleaned it up, there were more to be taken care of the next day. It was worse when he went out drinking with his buddies and would stumble back late in the morning, waking me up after I had just finished the night shift. Sometimes he brought home different women, and while I wasn’t at home, I didn’t want to imagine what he did.

I made sure to wash my bedsheets frequently after he left, when I found an earring and a dark red lipstick smudge on my pillow.

During weekends King was there all the time, but as soon as the first day of the week began, he left early in the morning to report for duty. I had to hide my food and water from him because it would always be gone. When I confronted him about this, he simply told me to do my part and support those who were risking their lives to serve and protect me. I told him that the only thing at risk was my sanity.

He got up and slammed the door, and we didn’t speak much after that conversation.

This was the only time that my fellow guests could step out of the storage room. Nobody could yell or talk loudly, and if someone had food, as soon as it was seven in the evening, they all had to take it with them before King came back. Kia and Malcolm appeared to be more haggard in appearance and kept arguing with each other, Toku looked sullen as usual, and Honda gave me a new sketch every night after reading through the books I lended her. Not only had she devoured every page, but kept copying the words with a pen. She had basically drawn everything in my room and was soon resorting to doing a portrait of the large oak tree outside my window.

If anyone had to go, there was a plastic bucket that I left in the storage room, since the toilet was useless. When it was full, I had to dump it out in the streets, which didn’t smell any better. As if it wasn’t hot, dark, and stuffy in there already, the fresh stench of piss made everyone more cranky.

I tried my best to clean it down when King wasn’t there, but the disinfectant I was using was slowly beginning to run out. The janitor had finally caught me stealing a new bottle and gave me a piece of his mind, mixed with a strong string of cuss words. So I had to resort to using a slab of soap.

I didn’t know how long we could carry on like this.

Buying water was a nightmare. I had to stand in line like everyone else and shut out the screams of the Khonie, fighting the civilians who were pulling them along for a twenty four bottle pack of water. Dozens of bodies were piled up, fresh ones over the more decayed corpses everywhere I turned. Whenever I handed my money over, I refused to look into the face of the soldier who gave me the bottles. Was he from the same platoon? Did we train in the same camp?

The stores were wiped out, and the further I walked out into the city find food, the darker it grew outside before I went back. A bag of rice, oatmeal, and some knobby apples usually sufficed. And then I had to padlock my fridge and couldn’t cook for anyone, because King would be back with beer stains on his uniform and would babble to me in some language I didn’t understand. He would bring his own food: hot pizza and barbecue wings, or fresh meat pies; dinner that he had gotten from the army.

And four Khonie, who were starving beneath him, would be forced to smell the aroma.

King often asked why I hid my face and wore baggy sweatshirts all the time. I said that I had a really bad skin infection that was contagious if he went too close. That seemed to deter him from putting his grubby hands in my stuff, but only for a moment. After he had stolen my water bottles again and tried to break the padlock to my fridge, I went through his belongings and took his gun, a Glock twenty seven, along with a lovely box of ammo. He had carried on and even threw a punch at me as he searched for his firearm.

The look of misery on his face was a sight to behold.

* * * * * * *

Early one morning, after I had gotten back from a especially long shift, King was sitting on the floor, leaning his ear against the carpet. The man was dressed in his uniform, which was buttoned up and neatly ironed. There were no girls tonight; he hadn’t brought any food either. He looked up, and for the first time in days, spoke to me.

“I think you have rats in here.”

Time seemed to stop as I stared at him. He knocked again the ground, twice, before shaking his head.

“You should really hire an exterminator. There was a scratching, no, it was more like a creaking noise. It’s not healthy for me and you to have these blasted creatures running around, infecting our food and getting into our clothes.”

Ah, shit.

The goddamn rats. My arms shook underneath the weight of the rice bag I had brought in as I placed it on the table. King stood up and gave me an eerie look. He was inches away from the awkward lump in the torn carpet beneath it. I kept on moving, wishing that he would leave already. Had my guests finally lost it, becoming so restless that they couldn’t stand it in here anymore? I couldn’t recall how many times I told everyone to not make a sound, especially during the evenings when I wasn’t here.

“It’s the rats, isn’t it?”

I looked up. My throat went dry. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Why do you have so much food for yourself? What do you even need that huge bag for? What else have you been hiding from me, hmm?”

“I need it. I don’t really know what to say about the rats.” With one hand, I fished out a cigarette from my pocket and put it in my mouth. “Plus I can’t afford an exterminator.”

“Well do something. Just wait until I tell the general about this. Do you know how disrespectful it is for a lowly civilian to treat a Red Mamba so poorly? Honestly, you’re disgusting.”

King stormed past me.

* * * * * *

He didn’t come back for four nights.

During that time, my guests came out and began to walk around and stretch their legs. Janice had surprisingly given me a day off from my usual late shift and told me to go home, because I looked like I was about to drop dead. When she asked about how Honda was doing, I told her she was still sick. It was a half truth, although she was holding down her food.

It seemed like things started to finally look up into my favor, and we all had a feast of rice and chicken one night. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits from the food, and even Toku was cracking jokes with everyone. Kia and Malcolm roared with laughter, and Honda couldn’t resist a smile.

I just wanted to sleep.

On the fifth night, as I was clearing up the empty paper bowls from our table, there was a squeaking sound from my glass window. Honda stood huddled on top of the sill, swinging her long bare legs over the ledge, holding an old, rusted soup can in her hands. The shorts and sweatshirt she wore, which I had given her, were streaked with dirt. My heart skipped a beat, and I dropped the bowls to the ground as I rushed towards her.

She gave me a large smile.

“Are you crazy?” I signed, trying to help her down. Somehow, she still had one hand covering the top of the can. “How did you even..... you went out? At this time? No, no, no, not yet. We’re all going out together when it’s safe. Together, not alone! Don’t leave yet, there are soldiers all around.” I sighed. “I’m doing fine with the food, okay? You don’t need to worry about—“

Honda shook her head eagerly, still grinning. Quickly, she ran to my backpack, grabbed one of the books I had taken with me, and set the can on the table with it placed on top. Then, after taking a broomstick and one of the quilts I had on the floor, hoisted it up into a makeshift tent, before turning off the lights, leaving my apartment quite dark.

“Surprise,” she eagerly signed.

I stared at her, confused, until she picked up the can and crawled underneath the raised blanket, beckoning for me to follow. My back and legs felt sore as I crawled behind her, feeling like a child entering a pillow fort. Honda sat in the very middle, her knees folded underneath as she slowly lifted the book from the opening of the can.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

A glow of yellow and green lights suddenly surrounded me. They lit up the entire tent, almost like stars against a dark canvas. Many rested on the quilt. Honda reached into her pocket and pulling out a large red apple. She held it out to me.

“Eat,” she signed. “It’s fresh. Like chocolate.”

“Fireflies?” I whispered, lying down on my stomach by her side, burying my chin into my arms as I slowly accepted her gift. The fruit had a cold, marbled surface. With one hand, I made sure to close a revealed space of the blanket to prevent some from escaping out into the open. “What do we do when they die on my sheets in the morning?”

“They are pretty,” she wrote, before resting on her back. “I do this all the time. Me and my brother. I want to give you something special. You work much. Relax.”

I was shocked by how much she improved with her letters. But then again, she had plenty of time to practice, being stuck in that hot little storage room all day. I split the treat in two with my hands with a loud snap, before giving her one of the halves.

“Here.”

Dismay spread across her face as she stared at the chunk of apple. “You don’t like? I can get different next time. I am sorry.”

“No, no, please don’t be! Of course I do,” I softly replied. “It just wouldn’t taste all that great without sharing it with you.”

A look of wonder settled on her eyes as she gestured at the fireflies. “I love them.”

”Me too.”

“They are like…” She frowned as she tried to figure out how to write the word. “Stars. Stars. Twinkle lights. Have you ever seen them before, Sandwich King?”

“What did you call me?”

“Sandwich King.”

Fighting back the urge to laugh, I turned my head to the side and took a large bite of the fruit. One firefly had landed right on the tip of her small nose, and her gray eyes were full of mischief.

“Really?” I signed.

Honda then snorted at my expression, before clutching her sides from cracking up so much. I studied her brown freckled face in the glowing lights around us, as her finger gently traced my hand. When she grinned at me, I noticed that her buck teeth were large and crooked, appearing to be more visible from beneath her cleft palate. The thick curls stuck out around her head like a halo. Her lips looked like a single rosebud, and her fingers were inches from mine.

For some reason, I couldn’t stop staring. My face flushed as butterflies rose in my stomach. I had to pry my eyes somewhere else.

”Why do you call me that?” I whispered.

“It sounds nice.”

Her letters had gotten more round and smooth. She began chewing the apple. The neon green light broadly highlighted the side of her face.

”Ya think so?”

”Mhmmm,” she grunted.

“You haven’t eaten a single sandwich since you’ve been here. Come on now. If anything, it belongs to you, especially with how many you’ve stolen from me. You owe me ham and cheese. Do you know how many nights I had to work with just two slices of bread? Just bread.”

“You have the ham and cheese. Inside this world,” she spelled out slowly. “Just use your royal status and get some more. Because all of them will gravitate towards you. You have the power alone to do such great things.”

I had a feeling she had memorized the complex sentences from one of my books, since she’d been reading a ton. “You think that ham and cheese are naturally attracted to me?”

“Absolutely,” she signed. “Types of bread too. Brown, rye, wheat...”

“You know, I’m starting to think that the rice and chicken we had for dinner was spiked, or there was something in there. That is the only reason why you’re telling me these ideas now. How much did you eat, anyways?”

Honda shrugged. “Three bowls.”

“Figures. No wonder you’re quite inspired.”

”So are you. You had seconds.”

”Oh, really?” I signed, smiling.

“Snap your fingers. They will come.”

“That’s not how it works. You have to go to the store and buy all this stuff. And I can’t fit all of that bread here. I.... why do you think I’m rich? I’m not. I’ve been wearing the same clothes for months, and I can barely afford to buy a toothbrush. It’s called being broke.”

“But it is true. This is where you’ve been hiding the sandwiches from me. I knew it was only a matter of time. Where’s your stash?”

We both began to laugh like fools. I supposed things were a lot more amusing in this exhausted state of mind. For once, it felt amazing to be stupid. With a quiet sigh, Honda scooted closer to me to reach for my palm. Her breaths were soft, sweet and smelling like apple. I felt her warm leg accidentally brush against my own for a moment. My cheeks burned. Strands of wild hair hung down her face. The brief touch of her skin was heavenly, and I sudden had the urge to lightly wrap my arm around her hip.

I didn’t.

“Know it?” she wrote, before pointing to me, wrinkling her brow in concentration. Once more, she had forgotten how to spell a word. “You know something?”

“What?” I whispered. “Tell me.”

“You’re still a king to me. Even with no sandwich.” Honda yawned and pushed a stubborn curl from her face. “After we go to the beach, I take you to Benny and Papa. Yes, why don’t you meet my family?”

I wanted to touch her hair. “I would love that.”

“Really? Then we can you Deli for short, instead? Sandwich King is a mouthful. It suits you.”

”You know what—“

Honda grinned. ”Adlai?”

“Yes?”

Her face went real serious. “Thank you. You help all of us.”

Thank you.

The words made me feel bubbly inside. Her eyes were halfway open, and she curled up into a ball and yawned, her bare toes slightly twitching. Gently, I reached out and held her hand. Her ink covered fingers stained mine, but I didn’t care. She had already dozed off by the time I tried to respond, her hair sprawled out on the floor. Sleep never usually came to me, so I quietly watched her in the shadows, letting my fingertips memorize the unique indentations on her palm.

Outside our tent, I could make out Toku’s shadow in the room. His green eyes, contrasting sharply with the dark, stared at our silhouettes for a moment before he disappeared in the storage room. How long had he had been sitting at the table; I did not know. I heard his footsteps descending below.

* * * * * * * * *

The Glock fit snugly in between my jeans and underneath my sweatshirt. Not only did I carry it wherever I go, but I made sure it was loaded every day, and that the magazines were stored deep into my backpack. It felt so strange towards being able to hold a gun again, almost reminding me of training at Fort Hill, and the drill sergeants’ destroyed, raspy voices.

I did not miss those days.

It was a rainy afternoon when I came home to King standing in my apartment with another man. He seemed to be a wealthy civilian. And he was in my house. Both of them were.They didn’t seem to hear me as I stepped through the doorway and started poking around the carpet, tearing it up. To get rid of the rats, they said.

It was so hard to breathe that I felt I was going to pass out. King’s speech was slurred in my mind, tiny droplets of saliva exploding from his mouth whenever he pronounced a word. Had he been drinking again? His feet came closer and closer to my table until they finally pushed it aside, where my deepest secret was separated by only a thin piece of fabric. King reached for the torn lump, his eyes widening in realization at the exposed door. As he reached for the latch, my stomach sank.

All those long, hard nights had been nothing. The effort to keep my guests safe and fed were wasted because of rats. The damn rats. When they would be dragged out of my home and forced to be sent back, I would be in chains and hung. Maybe it was better to die than to live in shame for failing not once, but twice.

Good people don’t exist in this mess of a world.

My left hand slid by the waistline of my torn, muddy jeans, the metal barrel of the gun feeling shockingly cold against my skin. King’s hand rested on the latch, lifting it up slightly so that he could stare into the faces of four human beings that had done nothing to him. Yet he had to destroy them, because they existed. Because they lived and breathed and had laughed a long time ago with their families.

Because I existed.

I slowly drew out the Glock, my fingers curling around the trigger. When he looked up at me, I released it, a bright explosion of life liquid splattering in the air around him. His body landed on the ground with a thump, and there was shouting coming from the man who knelt behind him. King laid still, the dark red substance pooling around his head.

The barrel of the Glock was still smoking.

With one swift motion, the man whipped out a pistol. I dove behind the table and knocked it over as he fired at me, bullet holes appearing against the wall in the spot where I had been standing moments before. My elbow slammed against the floor.

“You're sick,” he yelled, crouching behind a piece of furniture. “Attack a man in cold blood, eh? You think you can just walk out on me?”

I peered out, my heart racing against my chest. Another gunshot rang out, ripping a deep hole into my fridge. As I buried my head in my arms, dozens of bullet shells littered the floor around me. He kept aiming at the table, his beady eyes wide with fury. It was only until he crawled out into the open hallway did he take off running.

I fired two more shots and missed.

My mind was swirling, and I could not look at King as I stepped over and yanked open the latch. The heavy trap door swung open, and the faint scent of soap met my nose.

Everyone was huddled together with fear, except Toku, who was standing far in the back. He glared at me and my blood stained boots. I picked up my backpack and swung it across my shoulders, before tucking the gun back into my jeans. Nobody said a word as I dragged the table against the door, hoping to keep it shut.

Already, I could hear more yelling and footsteps coming down to my room. My chest felt so tight I couldn’t breathe, and King’s lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling. I ran to the window and pushed it open, the warm afternoon sun starting to stream in. As Honda looked at the corpse before staring back at me, anxiety spread across her face. It tore me in half inside, but I didn’t dare show it.

I wished they understood, but I knew they wouldn’t. Not for a while, at least.

“What’s going on?” Kia asked in a shaky voice. Toku’s eyes scanned my destroyed room, and the holes in the table.

I didn’t make eye contact with anyone. It was impossible to.

“We need to go,” I said softly, even though my arms were shaking. “Now.”