4] There goes the neighborhood

I finally tore myself away from the computer when my stomach started making noises again.

Of course, I had to wait a half hour again after taking the insulin and all the pills before I could eat anything, but after twenty minutes I figured I could at least start putting things together.

The last chicken breast that I had cooked on Friday got cut up into long slices on the cutting board rather than the countertop since Beryl had gotten me to stop doing that. I even still washed the big plastic board every week.

Then the meat got microwaved to warm it up with a thin smear of barbecue sauce on each slice since baking the meat and dumping the grease out into a tin can didn’t leave much in the way of flavor to the chicken.

Long ago that grease would have been made into a gravy to go on the chicken and some potatoes, maybe even some stuffing. Those days were gone.

On the side, I cut up most of the same vegetables that had been on my sandwich earlier, minus the onions but with some cut up carrots instead, to go with some discounted garlic flavored store brand hummus.

A hand full of low salt mixed nuts for more protein got scooped out of the plastic cannier and dumped into a black plastic dish leftover and cleaned up from one of the side dishes that had come with a fried chicken meal in days long ago.

There wasn’t much in the way of carbs to all this, so I had taken a smaller dose of insulin earlier, and even then I might end up with funky low blood sugar vision problems later that night which would mean another slice of toast with peanut butter to balance things.

I almost hoped for the hazy feeling and difficulty seeing if it meant justifying a snack later on instead of going to bed hungry.

It was two hours later that the knock came on my door.

Loud, insistent, and obnoxious. Must be the cops.

“What the hell?” It had been years since I had chased those kids down the street with a running chainsaw, why were they bothering me now? It’s not like I had caught any of them.

Two of them, cops not kids, were on my front porch, they flinched when I flipped on the light and cracked the door open.

The older fatter one had pulled open the screen door to knock and was glaring at me through the narrow crack I had opened up on the door that the chain latch allowed. Well, that and my door stopper, a foot long piece of two by four with two metal rods stuck through it and then into the holes in the floor half a foot in from the doorway.

It was there since it wasn’t that hard to kick a door in with enough force to snap a chain. This wasn't the best neighborhood, I just couldn't afford to move to anyplace nicer. And I didn't want to.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

This is my home, no one got to drive me out of it.

Case in point.

“Sir, we’re evacuating the neighborhood. We're going to need you to come with us. We can escort you back tomorrow to pack up a bag. Just grab your identification, some money, and any medications you need.”

The skinny black kid behind him had his hand on his gun, but not for me, he was looking around, nervously.

I gave the cop a long look, long enough that he began to look impatient. Which meant he was going to begin threatening me to get me to do what he wanted. I rolled my eyes. Cops.

“What’s been attacking people?”

He flinched again and gave me a dirty look.

It wasn't that hard to figure out. Dungeons are letting loose monsters, and the only way to stop them is to send in the geezers. And no one was ready to send their parents or grandparents off to die.

Yet.

The powers that be needed to show people they are doing something, even if it was pointless and ineffective, and since anyone who gets hurt if they did nothing will be seen as their fault, dragging people out of their homes in the middle of the night suddenly must have seemed like a great idea.

He frowned, and began to say “Sir.”

I held up one hand and nodded at him, then quickly shut the door with the lock turned before yelling, “Fuck off!”

Then I moved my door stopper into the holes that put it right up next to the closed door where it would keep it securely shut before I twisted the knob for the deadbolt.

The cop started yelling, and I yelled back. "Go help someone else. I'm over seventy five, I got one of those Classes to keep me alive. The youngsters need you more than I do. Just go serve and protect somebody that wants that."

They moved off of my porch long enough to have a quick discussion, and then the fat guy came back up and knocked again, more politely this time, while his partner stood guard at the bottom of my front steps.

I didn’t answer the door, but after a moment the cop started talking anyways. "They look like monkeys, but with no hair and a lot of sharp teeth. Their skin is a bright red color.”

He turned his head from side to side to take a look at the front of my house. “I don’t think they can get in your house past the security glass or the bars, so you should just stay inside for now. The military is supposed to be on its way, or at least the national guard. The mayor is trying to get some construction crews to bulldoze dirt over the hole the things are coming out of and seal it up with cement. So just stay indoors for a few days. Okay?”

No threat to drag me off to a police station? Either he’s managed to still be a decent person after working long enough as a cop to get that fat, or he’s just too tired to give a damn anymore.

I know which way I would bet, but I still say “Thank you.” through the door. I even say it loud enough for him to hear me.

A seven in Grace my ass. I can be nice.

The fat cop seems to appreciate it and nods at the door before the two of them get back into their car and drive off. The police car is dented on all four sides, has cracked windows, and the front has smears and droplets of something orange all over the front bumper, grill, and hood.

Looks like the monsters can be killed with things other than bats.

After a few more hours online, I head off to bed. Without the sound of videos playing or a screen to distract me, I can hear the sirens and gunshots in the distance.

Not just the sirens from cop cars, but ambulances too.

I got some sort of healing ability, I think, even if it didn’t help the tree much. Should I be out there helping?

...naw.

It isn’t safe to go out, and I can’t be the only person with a healing ability. Can I?

Speaking of which. I lay my hand on my elbow which is hurting even more after hours of working a mouse.

[ Do you wish to channel Life to heal yourself?]

[ Yes / No ]

This time it’s different. I can feel the warmth flow down my arm and out of my hand, and feel it as it seems to flow into my elbow joint and coil around inside it for a while.

The pain fades away, mostly, and then the warmth seems to leak out from my elbow as if looking for the next spot to coil around.

I slide my hand over to my heart.

The flow of warmth followed over with my hand and began coiling around my whole upper chest.

I’m not entirely sure what all is getting fixed up in there, but it must be doing something good since the dizziness from my blood sugar being this low at night faded away into just being tired.

The warmth being pulled from all around me begins to tire me out, and I drift off still feeling the warmth coiling around in my upper body.