Fanfiction: Origin - Part One
The streets had not become any more populated since Faith had walked home from school. Nighttime in south Boston was exponentially more dangerous than the daylight hours, and Faith was very aware of this fact, having had it drilled into her over the years through constant lectures by her mother. Gangs, sometimes hesitant to attack, rob, or rape during the day when they could be caught in the act, showed little of the same timidity after the sun went down. Alleyways, shrouded in impenetrable darkness that the weak streetlamps could not affect, made perfect hiding places for all sorts of illegal activities. Jesse had done her best over the years to know, if not befriend, the more powerful gangs out of fear for Faith’s wellbeing, and the gangs responded to certain favors very well, generally leaving-and even protecting-the duo on certain occasions. But nothing was ever certain in this town, and Jesse had instilled a sense of natural wariness in her daughter for the day when their luck would run dry. For all her anger and unhealthy ways of coping with life, Jesse did love her daughter, even though she sometimes wasn’t sure how to show it. She did what she could to make sure that Faith would have more a chance for success than she’d had. That was part of the reason why she pushed Faith so hard in school-related matters; Jesse hoped that with good grades, Faith might keep herself on the right track.
Cool air, blown onward by an early autumn breeze, pushed the clouds silently across the dark sky up above, easily forcing the moon into exile. Had there been enough trees, leaves would surely have joined the wind’s quiet march, but the city government had a severe shortage of funds, and this prevented the presence of trees or plants of any kind. South Boston was a concrete nightmare, unfettered by simple ornamentations that should have been commonplace. The city was diseased, choking slowly on its own stagnation. Things never really changed. They just gradually got worse.
A car drove noisily by, drowning out footfalls, stirring up garbage in the street. Jesse kept her head down, fearing a confrontation while Faith was by her side. Knowing gang members didn’t always equal protection from their harassment, although Jesse had usually been able to keep them away from Faith. As for Jesse herself…she could handle things on her own. Usually. She’d lived in this town long enough to realize that being someone’s lapdog was infinitely worse than standing up and taking a beating every once and while. Jesse took shit from no one, but she wasn’t above selling herself to pay the bills; it was a harmful paradox, one that sometimes caused her pride to get her into trouble that she’d had a hand in creating.
“Mommy.” Faith was tugging on Jesse’s hand and pointing. “We’re here.”
The local grocery/liquor store was a permanent feature, having existed through gang wars, robberies, and general poverty for years. How it could manage to stay open every hour of the day was anyone’s guess; only the legally insane would risk working the graveyard shift, but there was always someone willing to work it, no matter the potential consequences. Either way, it was a convenient way for Jesse to buy alcohol and condoms…or groceries for Faith…without spending too much money. The prices were reasonable, the selection decent, and the clerks jittery enough to the point where they would give no customer a hard time.
Faith, true to her nickname, ran ahead and grabbed a basket, ready to carry all the groceries. Jesse figured that if the store was on the top of a high-rise building, Faith would probably run up every single stair just for the sake of running. She was going to turn into a handful as she got older, Jesse was sure of it. Rolling her eyes, but with good intentions, she walked through the open doors, leaving the darkened street behind her. Faith was literally bouncing up and down with her basket, smiling as if she were going to Disneyland instead of shopping for food. The clerk eyed the pair with a nearly tangible paranoia, eyes twitching back and forth nervously. But Faith and Jesse had already gone down the first aisle, leaving the clerk to pace behind the register, occupied with his thoughts that spoke of Jesse being a serial killer and Faith being her tiny ninja sidekick from Japan. When they did not reappear to stab him with samurai swords, the clerk relaxed slightly, grabbed his cup of lukewarm coffee, and drank deeply.
“What’re we gonna get, mommy?” Faith asked, her basket swinging back and forth as she regarded the rows and rows of food with wide, appreciative eyes. Even though she wanted to snatch half the things she saw, Jesse would know what they needed, so Faith restrained herself and kept her hands in check.
Jesse pulled out her wallet and counted the bills she’d taken from home. Wallets were the way to go for any females in south Boston. They were much harder to steal than purses. “I guess we can get a little more than last week,” she said, shoving the wallet into her back pocket, “…to make sure that we don’t run out again. You want some macaroni and cheese, kiddo?”
This question met with lots of nodding and smiling on Faith’s part, so Jesse reached up, higher than her daughter could, and got a few boxes of the stuff. Faith liked it because it tasted good; Jesse liked it because it was cheap, and it was also fairly simple to make, meaning Faith could cook it herself if Jesse was occupied with something else. Faith gladly took the boxes from her mother and put them neatly into the basket, making sure to stack them side by side, right side up. Organization was not something that had been driven into her by her mom, unlike most of her habits. She’d simply learned that having things neat and orderly helped her in school, and she applied this knowledge to the rest of her activities, as well.
They continued along the tall aisles, Jesse directing Faith towards essential items such as milk, butter, and cereal. Some soup and canned fruit was added, along with plain pasta; the easier and cheaper the item, the more of it Jesse allowed Faith to grab. After a few minutes, Faith was clearly struggling with the basket, little as she was, so Jesse took it while her daughter fairly ran about, obviously amazed at the diversity of the potential meals before her eyes. Not that she had ever tasted most of them, but that only added to their mystique. For the rare occasions when she was allowed to go shopping, she always had a plethora of new questions to ask about the seemingly exotic cans and boxes.
“What’s shrimp?” Faith called from a few meters away, where she was appraising a blue can with large, red letters. “Is it good?”
Jesse gazed up the aisle at Faith as she reached for a little can of pasta sauce. “Nah, you wouldn’t like it, Firecracker. It’s kinda gross. All eyes and legs.”
“Eww.”
“Yeah.”
“How about…” Faith leaned in close to sound out the word. “…sardines?”
“You just love seafood in a can, huh?” Jesse gave a short laugh, grabbing Faith’s hand and leading her around to the next aisle. “Sardines are like…little fish that they shove together.”
“Fish in a can?”
“Uh-huh.”
Faith decided that sardines and shrimp weren’t worth any further explanation. If fish could be put into a can, who knew what else was sitting on the shelves? She made up her mind to stick with macaroni and cereal for the rest of her life.
As they walked down the final aisle, Jesse snatched a flask of whiskey and put it in the basket when Faith turned to examine some bright green bottles. No reason why Faith should have to learn about alcohol at seven, and Jesse, though she couldn’t help her habit, tried to protect her daughter from it.
“Ready to go?” The basket was almost completely full, and it held more groceries than Jesse usually allowed herself to purchase. But what the hell, she thought, Faith deserves a treat. “I think it’s almost your bedtime, isn’t it?”
Faith gave up trying to decipher the green bottles with their long, confusing words. “I guess so. But I’m not very tired.”
“You’re never tired,” Jesse said with a smile, wrapping one arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Let’s go home.”
Just as they were about to round the aisle and head towards the clerk, Jesse heard a commotion at the front of the store and instinctively pulled Faith back. She kept her arm around Faith while she quietly set the basket down and listened to what was going on. She couldn’t see anything because the tall aisle was effectively blocking her view, but she could hear angry words being exchanged.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble, man,” someone said. From the tremble in tone, Jesse figured the voice belonged to the jittery clerk.
“Then you’ll give me the fuckin’ money, punk,” a second man retorted. “Now let’s see it, or I blow your brains out the back of your head.” A click. Probably a gun being cocked.
It was obviously a robbery. Jesse had heard and seen enough of them to know that the best plan was to just sit still and let things work themselves out. Putting her index finger to her lips, she instructed Faith to stay silent, and they both sat down. Faith, without a hint of fear, just nodded, eager to please. For now, at least, the situation didn’t seem to be too out of control. The guy with the gun, though dangerous, sounded calm for the moment.
Jesse heard the register open, heard the clerk scrabbling to get all the money out.
“There, that’s all of it.”
A moment of silence.
“This is only fifty bucks, you little shit! Where’s the rest? Are you fuckin’ with me?!”
So much for being calm.
“No, man! That’s it, I swear!”
“Get the fuck over there!” the robber shouted. A second later, the clerk appeared directly in front of Jesse, apparently having been shoved across the front of the store. His eyes widened when he saw Jesse and Faith. Jesse desperately made motions with her hand, imploring the clerk to keep his attention on the robber. If that guy finds out we’re here, this is going from bad to worse! Look that way, you idiot!
“What are you staring at, asshole?”
God damn it, Jesse thought.
“Uh,” the clerk stammered, forcing his gaze back to the other man. “It’s…a spill. That’s all.” He was shaking, terrified of the gun, terrified of his own mortality.
“First you lie about the money,” the robber said, his voice normal once more. “Which I can understand.” Footsteps, getting louder, getting closer. “But two lies? Now you’re fucked!”
Jesse saw an arm swing out, one that held a silver revolver. The butt of the gun collided with the clerk’s head with a sickening crack, and he fell limply to the floor, where he lay still. Please no, please no. And the robber stepped out from behind the aisle, where he saw a woman and a girl huddled on the floor.
“What do we have here?” He was glaring down at the pair, his eyes darting back and forth with barely restrained mockery. Jesse saw that he was too tall; she couldn’t fight him and hope for a win, but she would throw herself at him if he threatened Faith. Muscles stretched out his white t-shirt, and a backwards hat on his head accented completely unremarkable features. He put the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “Guess I have time for a little fun before I leave,” he laughed, approaching Jesse with outstretched arms.
“Fuck off, you piece of shit!” Jesse screamed, kicking out and pushing Faith away in the same instant. Her foot connected with the man’s stomach, but he only grinned, completely unhurt by the attack. “I said fuck off!” She kicked out again, but the robber caught her foot in his large hands.
“Shut up, bitch, before I…”
His reply was cut short by a green and gray blur that hurled itself across Jesse’s field of vision, knocking the robber to the floor. Not caring what it was, she immediately crawled over to Faith, who was sitting on the floor, absolutely enraptured with the drama unfolding before her.
This was way better than TV.
Hugging her daughter close, Jesse spared a glance back to the front of the store, where the would-be robber and rapist was getting to his feet.
“Hope you’re ready to die for that!” he snarled, reaching for his gun, murder in his eyes.
But before his hand got halfway there, the newcomer lashed out with a kick that caught the robber directly in the chest, sending him sprawling back to the ground. Jesse saw that her savior, a young man dressed in green camouflage pants and a light gray t-shirt with black letters that said U.S.A.F., was more than a match for her antagonist. He spared a quick glance down the aisle, flashed a fleeting smile, and turned his attention back to the fight. Moving in close as the robber struggled to get up, the unknown man reached down, deftly recovered the gun, and then threw it across the store. But he oddly did not press his advantage, instead choosing to back up and invite the robber to fight. Having no other choice, the robber got up and rushed his assailant, who was more than ready. Jesse winced as the robber got a knee in the stomach for his troubles, then an uppercut to his face. Blood sprayed up as his head rocked back, painting the floor with drops of crimson, but he miraculously kept from falling. He did finally fall a moment later when the guy in fatigues smashed an elbow into his face, shattering the fragile bone structure. A gurgled scream of pain was uttered as the defeated robber collapsed. His head smacked loudly on the tile floor when he fell, and he didn’t get up again.
“Hey,” fatigue-guy called, standing over his fallen opponent. “Are you two all right?”
Faith was already on her feet and beginning to walk towards the carnage when Jesse grabbed her arm, pulling her back once more. Kid’s got too much curiosity for her own good. Jesse struggled up, still holding Faith’s arm.
“Yeah,” she answered, “we’re okay.” She picked up the basket full of groceries and allowed Faith to drag her forward. Up close, the violence was even worse: blood was everywhere, coating clothing, the floor, and some food on the shelves. The clerk, with a nasty gash near his temple, got off light compared to the would-be robber, whose entire face had been precisely demolished. Luckily for him, he was unconscious; otherwise the store would’ve been filled with sounds of agony. Regarding the man in fatigues once more, Jesse realized he was probably even younger than she was. His black hair was cut short, apparently to adhere to military regulations. He stood nearly half a foot taller than Jesse’s 5’6”, and she immediately took a liking to his cleanly-shaven, attractive features. “Who are you, anyway? And thanks, by the way.”
He extended his hand promptly. “I’m Chris, and you’re welcome.” Though his voice was not unique in the least, Jesse liked it, and offered her own hand in return.
“Jesse. This,” she said, motioning towards her daughter, who was still straining to get closer to the bodies, “is Faith. Faith, come and say thank you to Chris for saving us.”
Faith stopped struggling to wriggle free of her mother’s grasp for a moment and turned to face Chris. She tilted her head back to compensate for the height difference, uttered a quick, “Thank you, Chris,” and then proceeded to finally break free and approach the blood-spattered spectacle.
Chris wiped some sweat off his forehead and regarded Faith with an odd look. “Seems like a nice kid. Got a lot of spunk. She’s your daughter, I take it?”
“Yeah. She’s seven. I…”
“Hold on for a sec, I have to check the cashier.”
Faith moved politely out of the way when Chris came over to the clerk. She used it as an excuse to go examine the robber’s prone form while Chris examined the clerk’s head.
“He’ll be fine,” Chris announced, more to himself than anyone else. “Hey. Hey, buddy.” A few light shakes later, and the clerk’s eyes woozily fluttered open. “Can you sit up?”
“Huh? Where’s my coffee?”
Chris, startled by such a strange response, glanced over his shoulder at Jesse, who went behind the counter and retrieved the requested cup. It was nearly cold, but she handed it over regardless. The clerk propped himself up against a shelf, took a tentative sip, made a face, then drank the rest of the contents in one gulp.
“Thanks. I feel like shit,” he told everyone and no one, gingerly poking the side of his head.
“You took a nasty hit,” Jesse said.
The clerk, as if suddenly remembering the incident, turned his eyes to where Faith was prodding the robber with one of her tiny feet.
He asked, “But you guys kicked his ass, right?”
“Something like that,” Chris responded, suppressing a laugh.
“Good. Fucker deserved it.”
Jesse couldn’t agree more. Neither could Faith.
“Yeah, fucker!” the seven-year-old said, giving the robber another tiny kick. She grinned, showing white teeth.
“Faith!” Horrified and somewhat embarrassed that Faith would say something rude in front of Chris, Jesse stormed over and led her daughter away from the still-unconscious man. “What have I told you about language like that? I’m sorry, Chris.”
But Chris was laughing. “I’ve heard worse, believe me.” He knelt down in front of Faith. “Plus, he is a fucker, right?”
Faith nodded vigorously in response.
Jesse rolled her eyes.
“Almost time for you to get home and into bed, anyways,” she sighed. “What a night. Where can I pay for these?” she questioned the clerk, holding up her basket.
“It’s on the house, lady. Army guy, you go grab some stuff, too. I owe you guys.”
Chris hauled the clerk to his feet. “Thanks, man. Pay for officers in the USAF ain’t what it used to be.”
“Hey, no worries,” the clerk said, dusting himself off. “It’s the least I can do. I’ll call the cops, get them to sort this thing out.” He moved behind the counter, grabbed a large paper bag, and began stuffing Jesse’s groceries inside.
Momentarily disappearing down an aisle, Chris returned a moment later carrying a bottle of rum, some pasta, and paper plates.
“That all you want?” The clerk was clearly confused. Booze and noodles wasn’t exactly the most nutritious of meals.
“That’s it.”
The clerk shrugged and put the items into another bag. “You folks have a good night.”
“Thanks,” the two adults said simultaneously. Faith had found some new object to attract her curiosity and wasn’t paying attention.
Outside, a somewhat awkward silence ensued as Chris and Jesse struggled to continue their conversation.
“So…what’s USAF?” Jesse finally said. “Is it like the army?”
“United States Air Force.” Chris gave a mock salute with his free hand. “At your service.”
“You fly planes?”
“Helicopters, actually. I’m a Lieutenant for a helicopter squadron at Westover Air Reserve Base. Heard of it?”
Jesse took a moment to reply. “The place about an hour from Boston?”
“That’s the one.” Chris seemed happy that she knew the base. “I’m on leave right now.”
“Why come here, though?” Jesse asked, incredulous. Who the hell would choose to come to this part of Boston? There were much nicer areas in the northern district.
Chris gave a nonchalant shrug. “Aimless driving?”
“I see. So what do you think of our little slice of paradise?” Barely concealed sarcasm.
“Uh…” Chris pretended to look around, as if he’d never seen any of his surroundings before. “It’s five by five, I guess.”
Before Jesse could get a sentence in, Faith interrupted.
“What’s that? What’s ‘five by five’ mean?” she asked, staring unflinchingly up at Chris.
“Whoa, calm down,” he laughed. “I guess not everyone knows pilot-speak. You know how radios work?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, pilots and air traffic personnel rate radio signals. One is the worst, and five is the best,” Chris explained. “So when I say ‘five by five’, I mean that things are good.”
“Okay.” Faith paused. “Thank you.”
“Sometimes I just forget I’m out in the real world instead of at the base,” he rather sheepishly told Jesse.
Jesse made a decision. “Would you want to come have dinner with us?” The question seemed to appear from nowhere, but she’d been working up to it for a few minutes. Good guys were hard to find, especially in this area, and she intended to make sure that Chris was hers. He’d only been courteous and courageous so far; Jesse figured he was the best thing to happen to her in a long while.
“I’d love to,” he said. “Where do you live?”
“This way, about half a mile.”
“Let me grab your bag, then.”
Almost blushing as Chris took the bag, Jesse reached for Faith’s hand once more, and the trio began walking.