Saving Cory

Chapter 1“Did you get the license plate of the truck that hit you?” Cory groaned as he tried to move so he could see who’d asked. His ribs protested. Hell, everything protested. Someone put their hands on him to help him sit up. When he had, he saw an old man, obviously as homeless as he was. “They did a number on you.” “You could say that.” He looked around, panic stricken, sighing in relief when he saw his backpack a few feet away. “Punks getting their rocks off.” He eased over to pull the pack to him. “s**t like that happens, especially these days. Pissed off at the world and the way it is and using us as punching bags.” Cory nodded, assessing the damage he’d taken. Bruised ribs, bruised thigh, bruised, hell, everything. He touched his face and winced. “You’re going to be a rainbow of colors for a while,” the old man commented. “Can you get up?” “Think so.” It took a minute and the man’s help for him to get to his feet. He leaned against the alley wall until the dizziness passed. “Might want to hit up the ER,” the old man said. “I’ll be okay. Not like it’s the first time.” He reached for his pack, fighting off another wave of dizziness as he did, then thanked the old man when he handed it to him. “They take anything?” “What’s to take? A couple of shirts and jeans that—” Cory sighed ruefully. “That even a homeless guy wouldn’t be caught dead in?” “Know what you mean. Okay, if you’re all right, more or less, I got places to go and things to do.” The old man wagged a finger at him. “At least stop at one of those drop-in places for kids like you in the morning and let one of their nurses check you out.” “Yeah, I will, and umm, thanks.” “No problem.” The old man walked away, glancing back when he got to the end of the alley. “Do it.” Cory nodded and grimaced because even doing that hurt. Very carefully he slung the backpack over one shoulder and hobbled to the street, away from where he’d been attacked. It was still dark, but off in the distance he saw the sky was beginning to lighten with the false dawn. Closer to him, dim light came through the streaked window of an all-night diner. He didn’t have much cash, just what he’d managed to earn on his knees the previous evening, but at the moment he was willing to spend a bit of it on something to eat. When he entered the diner the counterman, who appeared to be around fifty or more, shot him a look that turned from disgust because of the way he was dressed, or so Cory figured, to one of concern. “You better sit yourself down before you fall down.” The man pointed to a stool at the counter. Cory did, easing off his pack, setting it on the floor beside him. Two men at the far end of the counter watched him momentarily before returning to their breakfasts. Other than them, Cory was the only customer. “Coffee?” the counterman asked, handing Cory a menu encased in yellowing plastic. “Please, and a scrambled egg with toast.” He figured that wouldn’t cost much. “You got it.” The counterman poured him coffee and went to the order window to tell the cook what Cory wanted. When he came back, he studied Cory, shaking his head. “Punks?” “Yeah.” “I’d ask if you’re going to report it but somehow I doubt it.” “No kidding. Not that the cops would do anything if I did.” The man nodded. “Ain’t that the truth? Not going to the hospital, either, I bet, ‘cause you’d need ID which I’m guessing you wouldn’t want to show, if you even have some.” Cory shrugged in agreement. “Drop-in place, when it opens, and hope the nurse is around.” “Better than nothing. Way you’re moving I’d say bruised ribs. Cheek looks dicey but more likely bruised not fractured. Before you ask, I was medic back in the day. At least your nose isn’t broke.” “Not this time,” Cory agreed. “Been on the streets long?” “Two years and counting.” The man shook his head. “Tough. Runaway or kicked out?” “Yeah.” The man chuckled. “Okay, I’ll quit prying.” He went to get Cory’s meal, setting it in front of him. “Sorry. I wasn’t…” Cory frowned. “I can’t pay for all this.” ‘This’ was two eggs, bacon, hash browns and toast. “No problem. Not like it’s going to break me to give you something to get you through the day after what you’ve been through.” “Thank you! And it’s okay. Prying I mean because maybe you care. I ran away after my dad whaled on me once too often.” “s**t. You should have hit back.” Cory snorted. “Look at me. I’m hardly fighting material, Dad’s wishes to the contrary.” The man eyed him, smiling a bit. “Yeah, you do lack a certain something, like bulk and muscle.” “No kidding.” After going down the counter to refill the other customers’ coffee cups, he returned, resting his hands on the counter. “Maybe way off base, but I know it happens too damned often, and you don’t have to tell me, but you’re gay and your dad wanted to make a man of you.” “Got it in one,” Cory replied after swallowing the bite of egg and hash browns. “On making a man of me, at least.” “Fucker.” “Not arguing with that.” Cory took another forkful of egg, eating it with a strip of bacon. “This is so damned good.” “Been a while since you had real food?” “Yep. Unless I spring for a cheap burger it’s pretty much what I can find in Dumpsters.” “Not exactly balanced meals.” The man shook his head before going to greet a new customer who took a seat at the counter. Cory finished the hash browns then used the rest of the eggs and bacon to make a sandwich with the toast. When he’d finished, the man returned, telling him he’d get him a container for it. It took a couple of minutes before he put a large carry-out box on the counter. Cory sucked in a breath when he saw it held a real sandwich with chicken, lettuce, and tomatoes showing around the edges. “You don’t have to…” “Yeah, I do. I had a kid, would probably be around your age now if he’d lived. Got killed in a car accident. Drunk driver. Not him. Anyway, I figure giving you this is sort of a way to…” He looked embarrassed. “A way to honor him, if you get my meaning.” “I do. I’m sorry you lost him.” The man nodded. “At least I didn’t kick him out, which is something, I guess. Put that in there, too.” He pointed to the egg sandwich. “Then go to that drop-in place, just in case.” “I will, I promise. What do I owe you?” “Two fifty for an egg and toast, which is what you ordered. The rest is on the house.” “Thank you, again!” Cory paid, which left him with seven bucks and change. With the man’s “You take care of yourself,” ringing in his ears, he left to go to the drop-in place. After all, I’ve promised two men who seemed to care that I would, so I sort of have to. * * * * The nurse was there when Cory arrived. She did all of what he considered ‘nurse’ things, checking his eyes to be certain he didn’t have a concussion, telling him there was nothing to do about bruised ribs except let them heal, and that his other bruises would fade in time. She also gave him the strongest pain medication allowed that didn’t need a prescription. Finally, she bandaged a couple of places he hadn’t even been aware of where the skin had been broken by the beating, and then gave him a couple of hygiene kits, telling him to be more careful where he crashed next time. Deciding, since he was there, to get some new-old clothes, he checked out the donation room. He found two pairs of jeans and three sweatshirts that fit relatively well, and a pair of hiking boots that were in decent shape. At least I can kick back and do some damage if some other bastards decide to make my life more miserable than it is already. He left feeling marginally better since he had more clothes and the pain meds had kicked in. Having spent some of his small horde of cash on breakfast, he walked a mile to the place where he sometimes set up on the rare occasions when he panhandled. He took the empty can from his backpack, and settled down with his back against the wall of a shop belonging to a man he knew wouldn’t hassle him. The clink of an occasional coin in the can did nothing to relieve his mental state, however. He watched the men on the street, wondering if he’d recognize his attackers if they were around. Or would they or someone else show up to make his life hell on earth, again, when he found a place to crash? Possible, he knew, no matter how careful he was. “I need to find a safer place,” he murmured. “Maybe a new city, if I could find a safe one that doesn’t have SOBs getting off on beating on people like me? Or…” He looked down the street, seeing the mountains far in the distance. “I wonder…” He decided to think about it. About taking off in hopes of finding some really nice, small town where he could…Could what? Get a job looking like this? Hasn’t happened down here. For sure it won’t up there. Find a vacant cabin to use as a squat and then what? Shoplift and dig in garbage cans to have something to eat? For sure I’m no hunter even if I had a shotgun or whatever it takes. Still, it might be worth going up there. He chuckled low. “Summer vacation in the mountains?” * * * * It took him two weeks to come to a final decision, although when he thought about it later, he figured he already had. After all, why spend every night giving as many blowjobs as he could stand while keeping an eye out for trouble from punks and cops. The cops didn’t worry him too much. All they’d do was hassle him, telling him to move on and find some other way to make money. Punks on the other hand…He shivered, vowing to fight back for once if any of them showed up. By the time he was ready to put his plan into motion he’d made enough to at least give him a cushion when he got wherever he landed. He refused to spend it in the city, even for food, opting to scrounge what he could from Dumpsters and trash cans as always. He did pay another visit to the drop-in place to get a warm jacket. “After all,” he told a guy he knew who was there looking for a new sleeping bag, “I have no idea how cold it gets up there at night, even in the summer.” At his friend’s suggestion, he picked up a blanket as well, rolling it into his sleeping bag. It was early on a Monday morning when he made his way to the highway leading into the mountains. It was taking a chance, hitchhiking, not only because who knew who would pick him up and what they’d want in exchange, but also hitchhiking was illegal and if a State Patrol officer saw him, he’d end up in jail if he couldn’t make bail—something that was out of the question given his finances. Luck was with him when a car pulled onto the verge. He hurried over, leaning in when an older man rolled down the window. “How far are you going, young man?” “As far as I can get into the mountains, I guess. Well, into one of the towns.” The man raked his gaze over Cory. “Running away?” Cory started to say no then decided on honesty, up to a point. “Sort of, sir. My parent’s kicked me out and I’ve been living hand-to-mouth, but it’s dangerous and…” He shrugged. “So I’ve heard. I’m a salesman, on my way to visit one of my clients about forty miles up the road from here. If that works for you, hop in.” “Boy, does it. Thank you!” Cory settled in the passenger seat. Once they were moving, he asked what the man sold. The conversation went on from there, talking about inconsequential things, until the man turned off the highway into a medium-sized town, parking in front of a hardware store. “End of the road for me.” “Thank you for the ride.” “No problem. It was nice to have someone to talk to.” The man got two cases from the trunk of his car and went into the store. Cory wandered down the main street, looking into some of the shop windows, using one of them as a mirror to tuck his dark hair behind his ears to try to hide how scraggly it was. He wondered if he should stop at one of the restaurants to get a sandwich, and decided not to, in deference to his bank account or lack thereof. There were several roads leading out of the town into the mountains. Since he had no idea where they went, he walked to one of the gas stations to ask if they had maps of the area. “Kid, we haven’t carried maps since they came out with those fancy phones that have them built in,” the old man behind the counter said. “Where you trying to get to? Looks like you’re planning on hiking wherever.” He gestured toward Cory’s backpack. “I am, but I don’t have a destination in mind, and all I have is a throwaway phone.” Not the truth. He didn’t even have one of those. “It doesn’t have a map app, which is why I’m asking.” “Hmm. Try one of the gift shops. I think a couple of them carry those fancy tourist maps of the area.” “I will. Thank you.” He found a shop that did, and although it wasn’t much, it did show him that a couple of the roads went deeper into the mountains to small towns and beyond. By then it was well after noon and he was hungry, so he went down an alley behind a couple of the restaurants. While what he found in the Dumpsters was hardly gourmet quality, he did end up with something edible, as well as a couple of partially eaten sandwiches that he wrapped in a piece of newspaper so he’d have something for supper. Then he set out to follow one of the roads, hoping he’d get to the town shown on the map before it got dark.