Jake stopped. The “For Sale by Owner” sign caught his attention immediately after he had laughed at the hole in the wall just under the eave. He hadn't realized that he'd been walking down the same street he had nearly a week ago and looked at this same house. Today he had been coming from the opposite side of the beat up blue house. The grass was already overgrown, the hole was big enough that a family of squirrels could enter and exit comfortably, and the shingles looked like shit.

On a whim, Jake pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number posted on the sign. Of course no one answered. “Hey, my name is Jake Carter. I was wondering what was up with the blue house on Saint's End. 602 I think. How much and what all is wrong with it?” With the message left, he pocketed the phone and started back down the street. He looked the side over as he passed. The rear porch steps were rotting away and the very narrow single stall garage that looked like I wouldn't be capable of fitting a car, looked ready to fall over.

Jake pulled the phone back out of his pocket and looked down at the incoming call. “Well that didn't take long.” He said to himself as he answered. “This is Jake.”

“Hey, you called about the house in Devil's Peak? 602 Saint's End?”

That was interesting. The guy on the other end specified that the house was in Devil's Peak, which meant he either wasn't from the area, or he had multiple houses for sale in multiple towns. “Yeah, how much and what's wrong with it?”

“It's being sold as is. Twenty thousand, but the roof needs work, there is a hole in the upstairs wall, and the pipes froze and burst during the winter.”

“Huh, I suppose you can't sell it via conventional bank loan without fixing it up first?”

“Right.”

“And you likely don't have the money for that many repairs?”

“That's correct.”

“Hmmmm. I'd like to see how bad it is.”

“I got a guy who will show it to you if you're serious.”

“Yeah, I don't have twenty-k in my back pocket right now, but it's just a matter of time and I can think of a few other options that would work.”

There was a long pause on the other side of the line as the man no doubt considered Jake’s words. He had admitted to not having the money, but had left enough of a maybe in there to give the guy hope.

“I'll send Mike your number. He'll reach out to you when he's got time.”

Mike had time a couple hours later. A few back and forths via text messaging and Jake was meeting a heavyset human man with a pudgy red face. He tried not to judge the guy. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Mike unlocked the door and let Jake in.

It opened directly into the kitchen. To the right was the countertop, the colorful veneer peeling away from the particle board core around the sink. The sink itself was still filled with dishes. The flooring was of the peel and stick tile variety, but seemed solid and level enough. To the left was an old added yellow table complete with pile of mail and four chairs. One had a worn cushion on it, the others looked untouched.

“What exactly is up with this place?” Jake asked.

“Ah, Pete's mother got real sick late fall. She was hospitalized for several months and didn't make it through the winter. Pete hasn't left the city in twenty years.”

“Shit, that sucks.” Jake walked into the living room where the ancient carpet was worn down to near nothing in a path that led from the kitchen to the bathroom. A bed sat in one corner as the older lady likely stopped climbing the stairs years ago.

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The bathroom needed some work. The floor was a bit soft near the toilet and the tiles around the tub looked like some of them were ready to fall off. Jake moved up the stairs to find three small rooms. Two of them contained only boxes. The one with the hole in the wall had a small bed, a truly ancient TV, and a rundown dresser. The plaster was splitting in several places and the carpet was discussing, particularly around the hole in the wall, but the structure seemed stable enough.

“Where’s the basement?” Jake asked as he returned to the first floor.

“Ahh, over here I think.” Mike said as he walked back into the kitchen and pulled open a closet door.

The staircase was small and rickety. Jake lit the way with the flashlight on his cellphone. Calling it a basement would have been too generous. The floor dirt and Jake had to duck his head. The furnace looked old, but in reasonable condition. The water heater was a mess. It bulged out in places and the discolored area under it proved that it had failed when the water inside froze. The house had to be old and whoever had built it had clearly cut corners with the ‘not basement, not crawl space’. But for twenty thousand…

“Alright, I think I've seen enough. I'll give the guy a call back.”

“Chance you'll buy it?” Mike asked.

“Maybe. Money's the issue. Can't get a loan. I'll see if I can work something out.”

“Would you consider renting it out for six months?” Jake asked the guy on the other side of the phone conversation. He was leaning against the rickety shed/garage thing.

“What do you mean?” asked Pete, his tone of voice skeptical.

Not a lot of people have 20K in their pocket, plus the amount needed to get the house liveable. I'd like to rent it for up to six months, say at three hundred a month. After six months I'll buy it. I'd have to fix up the pipes to live in it anyway so even if I couldn't come up with the money, you'd have an easier time selling it.”

Jake waited for the decision to be made.

“I'll have to think about it.”

“Sure, you've got my number.”

***

Nickolette pulled out her chair, unfolded the thing, and slumped herself into it. She gave a glance over at Jake who was on his phone.

“Hmmm. I need money to replace pipes and fix the hole and such. How ‘bout four hundred… Right… I can get a contract drafted up… Sure, what's your address… Oh wow.”

Nickolette noted the look of surprise on Jake's as he wrote something down in the small notebook he kept in one of his pockets.

“Alright, I'll message you tomorrow… Sounds good… Bye…” He turned his attention to her. “What's up?”

Nickolette held a package of sausages up. “Wanted to use your camp stove if that's ok?”

“Yeah sure.” His head disappeared into his tent and Nickolette took a moment hlto admire his ass. Jake set the camp stove on a tote next to Nickolette and slumped into his own folding chair.

“So,” Jake started as Nickolette fired up the stove. “How's the cheap apartment search?”

“Eeh, the cheapest place I've found is 500 per month, but I need first and last month's rent and a security deposit. Why?”

“What about 200 a month and half the utilities?”

“Seriously? What's the catch?”

“Several catches. First, you'd have a roommate. Second, the place is a mess and needs a thorough cleaning. Third, there's currently no working water. It would basically be like living here, except in a building… For a little while.”

Nickolette leaned back in her chair and considered. Jake could practically see the math running through her head. 200 was less than two weeks renting together. Less than one week renting alone. She'd have to suffer subpar conditions for longer, but would save a considerable amount financially.

“I'm willing to look at it.” Came the measured response.

Jake gave her an accepting nod. “Will be a few days.”

“What did whoever you were talking to say? You looked surprised.”

“Oh, his address is in the city.”

“What city?”

“The city.”

“Helenapolis?” Nickolette asked with as much surprise as Jake probably had when he heard the name.

“Yep.”

“That's fucking crazy. Why's a guy who lives in an arcology got a house way out here?”

“His mom lived here.”

“Huh.”

Comfortable silence settled between them as Nickolette cooked and they both considered Arcologies.