One of the best pieces of advice that Fred gave me was: always have an emergency stash of cash squirreled away. Every time I got paid for scrounging through the trash, doing menial jobs for store owners, or pulling the gig with Deng, I stuffed a tiny bit of eddies in my shoes.

Fred called it the rainy-day fund and told me to only pull it out in case of emergencies. After Fred and I were beaten and my gun and cash were lost to Dennis, and all my work over the past few weeks seemed to be for nought, I felt justified in pulling the money out of my socks.

I only had 52 eddies to my name. Not enough to do much. It wouldn’t let me buy medicine to help Fred, ensure we were fed for the week or so it would take us to get back on our feet, or pay a merc to run Dennis and his crew out of Watson to ensure my safety. But the slightly soggy bills could buy me a Slaught-o-Matic from one of the nearby vending machines. The cheap plastic orange gun looked like it was ripped from a 1950s comic about aliens and space pirates and retro-futurism. I was never a big fan of the aesthetic, but I needed some form of protection, and it was the cheapest option available.

Deng would have been happy to learn that I understood the importance of holsters. If I had one, I could have dealt with Dennis back near the court. But my emergency fund could only stretch so far, and after buying the cheap one-use weapon I was tapped out. I promised myself that the next time I got a gun I’d spring for a holster. The Slaught-o-Matic was stuffed in my waist band and the weight there was a comfort as I sat outside Megabuilding 10.

Once word got around that both Fred and I had been beaten, a host of people descended on Fred’s camp to check in on us and make sure we were safe. I’m pretty sure most had come for Fred. His years on the street had made him much more popular than the new kid who had been following him around like a lost puppy for the past few weeks. But seeing so many people come by the camp lifted my spirits a little. It also drew a line under the promise I made to myself while sitting next to Fred, listening to him groan in pain: take care of you and yours.

Tomas had stopped by to check on Fred and we ended up talking late into the night. It was the first time we had really chatted since being introduced to each other at the stickball game. He always went out of his way to say hello to me when I stopped by the alcove, but try as I might, I never fell into an easy rapport with him the same way I did with Fred and Mor.

I think he saw me as something akin to a younger brother. Someone at the alcove had once told me that Fred enjoyed helping people who had been recently kicked in the face by the city; that he had a knack for finding those who had been shunted off to the wayside by life and picking them up and helping them survive their new circumstances. I think that was why Tomas was so friendly to me every time we saw each other. Perhaps he too had been saved by Fred and felt some sort of pseudo-family kinship with me. All I know is that every time we talked, I was always conscious of how aloof I was despite feeling bad about not opening up to him.

When he stopped by and noticed all my bruises he asked if Officer Kirk had attacked me too. I told him that Dennis was responsible for all my injuries and then explained that Dennis had been the guy who mugged me on my first night in the city. I recounted the whole story of how he’d attacked me after I left the metro for the first time, and how he found me walking by the basketball court near Lizzie’s and messed me up there too.

Tomas nodded his head as I finished my story. “Yea, I heard about him. He’s been expanding his crew.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He used to stick to simple robberies or beatings. But from what I hear, he’s moving up to selling black lace and glitter. That crew over by the half-court near Lizzie’s…those are Dennis’ people.”

A smile crept up my face as a plan started to form. I needed medicine to help Fred and I knew where I could get the eddies to buy it as well as gain a modicum of revenge on Dennis for what he put me through. All I needed was to do what I should have done earlier: rob the crew by the basketball court.

It was still early when I got to Megabuilding 10. The basketball team hadn’t yet emerged to head towards the court by Lizzie’s They were a vital cog in my plan to help Fred, so I just sat outside to wait for them. Nobody bothered the homeless kid staring at the entrance, deep in his own thoughts. They just left me to it as I ran through plans and contingencies in my mind. How was this robbery going to go? What happens if Dennis is at the court? What are the ways in which this could go wrong, and how could I mitigate that?

I kept an eye at the entrance to the megabuilding and as the basketball team finally emerged from the elevators and started walking in the direction of Lizzie’s, joking about what they had been up to last night, I slowly stood and fell into step several feet behind them. I let them build out a lead before plodding along in their wake, hoping that no one would notice that we were all walking in the same direction. They seemed in no hurry to get to the court, just lumbering their way down the sidewalk and laughing with each other as I silently urged them to move quicker from half a block away.

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Once they finally turned down the alley to the court near Lizzie’s, I slipped away. Tomas was a few blocks down from the court where he told me he’d be waiting, and I quickly ran through the plan I had pieced together last night.

After he had told me it was Dennis’ crew who were dealing on the court, he noticed my reaction. He knew that I was planning something, and I couldn’t shake him off. He finally pried it out of me that I was going to rob their stash and, once he heard my cobbled together plan, demanded to be cut in.

It was basically the same plan I had made to rob the crew before. The two dealers would be focused on the clients down on the court while the lookout would be drawn into the game. I’d sneak in and, instead of attacking the guard at the top of the stairs, just grab the stash he was supposed to be looking after. If everything went according to plan, nobody would notice the stash was gone for a good twenty minutes or so. That was plenty of time for Tomas and I to get out of there and fence the stash. Tomas claimed that he knew some people who’d give us a good deal on the stash, and that we’d be able to use the money to get Fred fixed up.

He also claimed he’d be a better decoy than just relying on a basketball team to keep the attention of the dealers. With the game going and Tomas grabbing as much attention as possibly by arguing with the dealers – complaining that prices were too high or something – I should be able to waltz in and snatch the stash easily. I was a little hesitant to work with Tomas for the simple fact that we hadn’t pulled any jobs together. But he assured me he dealt with people like Dennis’ crew all the time and could make enough of a nuisance of himself without putting either himself or the plan in jeopardy. I finally had to relent and allow him to come on the gig with me, if for no better reason than I couldn’t think of a way to turn him down.

With our final preparations made Tomas moved towards the alley and I quickly circled the block. He promised to give me some time to get into position before he acted, but I decided to hurry just in case. As I circled the block, thoughts of my failure the previous day kept plopping into my mind.

Every step forward brought memories of me standing behind the lookout with my shiv drawn, doing nothing. What if I froze again? What would happen to Fred and me? I reasoned that I wasn’t trying to stab the lookout in the back this time, and that would make all the difference. I’d just be nabbing the stash. I could do that and get away. There was no need for violence, and no need for me to blank. If everything went according to plan, I’d be in and out without any of the dealers knowing I was there.

My heart beat a tatu in my chest, the sound growing louder in my ears. I tried arguing with my brain to calm down, that the plan would obviously work. Dennis wouldn’t change up the security around the crew. He probably didn’t even know that I was scouting them when he attacked me. He didn’t need to fix the deficiencies in the security that I had spotted because there was no pressing need. I was just some kid who was an easy target for him to exploit, not a man plotting to steal from him. I was a target of opportunity, not a threat. Hell, he probably didn’t even know that his lookout was too focused on the game to protect the stash. It was just bad luck that I had been there while he was stopping by to re-up his crew’s supply and pick up the cash.

Bad luck. If it was really bad luck that caused me to be there at the same time as Dennis, then my bad luck was of epic proportions. Dennis had probably used the cash he stole off me a few weeks ago as start-up funds for his little foray into the drug business. And now that he had taken even more cash from me, along with the gun I had dropped when he attacked, he was better defended and had a cushion for his burgeoning drug empire. I was like a pinata. The more Dennis beat on me, the more gifts I dropped for him.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I needed to focus. Get my head in the game. I needed to be calm and steady, so I didn’t have inane thoughts worm their way into my head and mess everything up out of fear. I ran through the plan one more time, reciting it like a mantra.

Sneak up behind the lookout, grab the stash, get out without anyone seeing, sell the stash for eddies, buy medicine for Fred. Sneak in, grab the stash, get out, sell the stash, buy the medicine. Sneak in, grab the stash, buy the medicine. Sneak in, stash, medicine. Sneak in, stash, medicine. Sneak in, stash medicine. The chant calmed me as I turned the corner and spotted the lookout.

I crouched down and pulled the Slaught-o-Matic from my waist. My pistol wasn’t going to slip down my pants this time. I pulled the cheap plastic toggle at the top of the gun, priming it to fire, and crouch walked towards the lookout. As I got closer, I could hear Tomas begin his distraction. I scanned the lookout and the area where he was standing and found a small box. That was the stash.

Tomas’ voice started rising, complaining that the crew was trying to rip him off and, at their prices, he’d only have enough eddies for one dose. I slowly moved forward, reaching my hand out to try and grab the stash. Should I open it here and grab everything inside? Should I just take the whole thing and get as far away as possible? I heard Tomas yelling at the dealers on the court, asking if they wanted him to walk across town to the Tyger Claws where they’d give him two doses for the same price.

I was directly behind the lookout on the stairs, my left hand reaching out to open the stash, when Tomas’ mention of the Claws seemed to spook everyone. So, they did know that they were operating in Claw territory. My eyes fixed on the lookout’s back and I saw him turn to check the apartment block behind him, saw his eyes go wide at the sight of my left hand reaching for the stash and my right hand closed around the grip of my pistol, saw as he panicked and reached for the gun I knew he carried at his waist.

I came to a second later. The lookout was on the ground, blood pooling around him as he gasped for breath. My right hand was hot, and I glanced over at it to figure out why. The Slaught-o-Matic barrel looked deformed, the plastic melting from the heat escaping the gun.

My eyes snuck back to the lookout who was still staring up at the sky, feebly moving. His hands were shaking as they clutched at his chest and his breaths were labored and sounded more like gurgles. Why wasn’t anyone helping him? I looked down the stairs and noticed a few people running away and something in my brain shouted at me. Stash, medicine, Fred. Stash, medicine, Fred.

Oh right, I was here to rob this guy. I tossed my now useless gun and rifled through the lookout’s pockets, but my hands were clumsy. What was happening? Why aren’t my hands listening to what I tell them? Stupid hands. I accidentally ripped open the lookout’s pockets and grabbed at whatever was in them, then stood and bolted. Stash, medicine, Fred. I needed to get back to Fred. I had the stash and I’d give it to him and he’d get better. I ran in the direction of Patrick Street. He’d be there. That’s where his camp was and that was where I had left him this morning. Get the stash to Patrick Street.

I ran until my legs were jelly and the taste of batteries filled my mouth. When I finally turned down Patrick Street and reached Fred’s little camp, he wasn’t there. I looked around, still clutching the stash in my hands. No Fred. No Deng. No one around. Fred’s supposed to be here so I can give him the stash.

My hands were starting to shake, and I was getting weak in the knees, and I felt like I was going to vomit. Was that a normal feeling after running only a couple blocks? I stuffed the items I grabbed from the lookout into my pockets and sat down on the mattress to wait.

I had the stash. But I don’t have Fred. Now what?