Jake stopped in his tracks. The “For Sale by Owner” sign caught his attention just as he was chuckling at the hole in the wall beneath the eave. He hadn’t realized he was walking down the same street he’d passed nearly a week ago when he first noticed this beat-up blue house. This time, he was approaching from the opposite direction, but the house looked just as bad—if not worse. The grass was wildly overgrown, the hole in the wall looked large enough for a family of squirrels to come and go freely, and the shingles were in terrible shape.
On a whim, Jake pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number on the sign. Unsurprisingly, no one picked up. “Hey, my name’s Jake Carter. I was wondering what’s up with the blue house on Saint’s End—602, I think. How much are you asking, and what kind of shape is it in?” He left the message and pocketed his phone, continuing down the street.
As he passed the side of the house, he took a closer look. The rear porch steps were rotting and looked ready to collapse, and the narrow single-stall garage which seemed barely capable of fitting a car was leaning slightly as though it might topple over at any moment.
Jake’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see an incoming call. “Well, that didn’t take long,” he muttered before answering. “This is Jake.”
“Hey, you called about the house in Devil’s Peak? 602 Saint’s End?” the voice on the other end said.
That caught Jake’s attention. The guy had specified Devil’s Peak, which meant he either wasn’t local or had multiple properties for sale in different towns. “Yeah. How much are you asking, and what’s wrong with it?”
“It’s being sold as-is. Twenty thousand, but the roof needs work, there’s a hole in the upstairs wall, and the pipes froze and burst over the winter.”
Jake frowned thoughtfully. “Huh. I suppose you can’t sell it through a conventional bank loan without fixing it up first?”
“Right.”
“And you probably don’t have the money to handle that many repairs?”
“That’s correct.”
Jake nodded to himself. “Hmm. I’d like to see how bad it is.”
“I’ve got a guy who can 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’ve got a few other ideas that might work.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, long enough for Jake to guess that the guy was weighing his options. Jake had been upfront about not having the money yet, but he’d left enough of a maybe to keep hope alive.
“I’ll send Mike your number. He’ll reach out when he’s got time to show you the place.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.” Jake hung up, glancing back at the house one last time. It looked like a wreck, but something about it tugged at him. Maybe, just maybe, it was the kind of project he could turn into an opportunity.
***
Mike had time a couple of hours later. After a few back-and-forth texts, Jake found himself meeting a heavyset human man with a pudgy red face. He tried not to form an opinion too quickly. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Mike unlocked the door and gestured for Jake to step inside.
The front door opened directly into the kitchen. To the right was a countertop, its colorful veneer peeling away from the particleboard beneath, especially around the sink. The sink itself was still filled with dirty dishes, crusted over as if they had been there for months. The flooring consisted of peel-and-stick tiles, but to Jake’s surprise, it felt solid and level enough beneath his boots. To the left stood an old, faded yellow table piled high with mail. Four chairs surrounded it—one had a worn cushion, while the others looked like they hadn’t been touched in years.
“What exactly is up with this place?” Jake asked, eyeing the state of disrepair.
“Ah, Pete’s mother got real sick late last fall,” Mike explained. “She was in the hospital for months and didn’t make it through the winter. Pete lives in the city and hasn’t left it in twenty years.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Shit, that sucks,” Jake said, stepping into the living room. The ancient carpet was worn down to bare threads in a path leading from the kitchen to the bathroom. A bed sat in one corner, making it clear that the older woman had stopped climbing the stairs long ago.
The bathroom needed work. The floor was soft near the base of the toilet, and several tiles around the tub looked ready to fall off. Jake took note of the repairs as he continued upstairs, finding three small rooms. Two of them were filled with boxes, likely containing the remnants of the previous occupant’s life. The third room, the one with the hole in the wall, held a small bed, a truly ancient TV, and a rundown dresser. The plaster was cracked in several places, and the carpet was filthy, particularly around the hole, but despite the mess, the structure seemed stable.
“Where’s the basement?” Jake asked as he descended back to the first floor.
“Ah, over here, I think,” Mike said, walking back into the kitchen and opening what looked like a closet door.
Behind it was a narrow, rickety staircase leading downward. Jake turned on the flashlight on his phone and carefully made his way down. Calling it a basement felt generous. The floor was packed dirt, and the ceiling was so low he had to duck his head. The furnace looked old but functional. The water heater, however, was in terrible shape, bulging ominously and surrounded by discolored stains that indicated it had failed when the pipes froze.
Jake scanned the space, taking it all in. The house was old, and whoever built it had clearly cut corners, especially with this half-basement, half-crawl space. Still, for twenty thousand, it might be worth the gamble.
“Alright, I think I’ve seen enough. I’ll give the guy a call back,” Jake said, turning off his flashlight.
“Think you’ll buy it?” Mike asked, locking the door behind them as they stepped outside.
“Maybe,” Jake replied with a shrug. “Money’s the issue. Can’t get a loan, but I’ll see if I can work something out.”
***
"Would you consider renting it out for six months?" Jake asked, leaning against the rickety shed/garage thing.
"What do you mean?" Pete’s voice on the other end sounded skeptical.
"Not a lot of people have twenty K in their pocket, plus the extra cash needed to make the place livable," Jake explained. "I’m thinking I could rent it for up to six months—say, three hundred a month. During that time, I’ll fix up the pipes and handle whatever’s necessary to live there. Even if I can’t come up with the full amount to buy it after six months, the place will be in better shape, and you’ll have an easier time selling it."
There was a pause on the line as Jake waited for Pete’s response.
"I’ll have to think about it," Pete said after a moment.
"Sure, no rush. You’ve got my number," Jake replied, keeping his tone casual. He ended the call and glanced back at the house, already weighing the risks and possibilities in his mind.
***
Nicolette pulled out her folding chair, snapped it open, and slumped into it with a tired sigh. She glanced over at Jake, who was engrossed in a phone call.
“Hmmm. I need money to replace pipes and fix the hole and such. How about four hundred... Right… I can get a contract drafted up… Sure, what’s your address… Oh wow.”
Nicolette noticed Jake’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he scribbled something in the small notebook he kept in his pocket.
“Alright, I’ll message you tomorrow… Sounds good… Bye…” Jake ended the call and turned his attention to her. “What’s up?”
Nicolette held up a package of sausages. “Wanted to use your camp stove, if that’s okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” Jake ducked into his tent to grab the stove, giving Nicolette a moment to admire the view of his ass before he re-emerged and set it on a tote next to her. He slumped into his own chair, stretching out his legs.
“So,” Jake started as Nicolette fired up the stove, “how’s the cheap apartment search going?”
“Ehh, the cheapest place I found is six hundred a month, but I need first and last month’s rent plus a security deposit. Why?”
“What about two hundred a month and half the utilities?”
Nicolette arched an eyebrow. “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 no working water right now. It’d basically be like living here, except in a building… for a little while.”
Nicolette leaned back in her chair, considering the offer. Jake could practically see the gears turning in her head. Two hundred was less than two weeks of renting a camping spot together—less than a week renting alone. The conditions wouldn’t be great, but financially, it made a lot of sense.
“I’m willing to look at it,” she said after a thoughtful pause.
Jake gave her a nod. “It’ll be a few days before it’s ready.”
“What did the guy on the phone say? You looked surprised.”
“Oh, his address is in the city.”
“What city?”
“The city,” Jake replied, as if it should have been obvious.
“Helenapolis?” Nicolette asked, her voice reflecting the same surprise Jake must have felt when he heard it.
“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.”
A comfortable silence settled between them as Nicolette focused on cooking, and they both found themselves contemplating the sheer absurdity of arcologies and the strange lives of the people who lived in them.