Animal Theater

Free Soup

"They'll shoot you if you go down there." Bet said. The dirty man was staring at a Dyson cold-storage facility. "It looks unprotected but it aint. There's buttons hidden down there with scatter guns."

He turned a squint, bloodshot eye to where Bet stood in the tall grass. "What do you know about it little girl?"

"I seen a guy shot." She said. "He got past the fence and down around the second building two buttons popped up and ripped him up with them scatter guns. Whyn'cha go down there an see if I know what I'm talkin' about?"

He turned his attention back to the buildings on the other side of the fence. "You know how much food is in there? Enough to feed an army."

"You hungry?"

He looked at her again. "Yeah, so?"

"I know where we could get some food."

"You tryn'a lure me somewhere?" He took a step toward her, looking her over. "I got nothin' worth taking," he said, "whoever sent you wont be too happy if you come back with me. Get outta here, leave me alone."

Bet laughed in his face. "You think I'm trying to rob you? Have ya been anywhere near a fuckin' mirror lately? Ya look like scabbed-over cuntmeat."

"Don't talk like that." He said. "It's not right for a girl your age."

"You don't know how old I am."

"Ok, how old are you?"

"Fifteen." She said.

Now he laughed. "Twelve at the most." He said. "Where's this food?"

"It's a soup room out near the beach, but a girl can't go there alone."

"Why, they afraid it'll turn into a pickup spot for whores?"

"It's not that." She said. "The guy who runs it has a buncha wives all covered up in sheets. Any single girl who goes in there winds up in sheets, so you gotta come with me an pretend you're my husband."

"What the fuck? Nah honey, I'll pretend to be your father."

"If you were my pa I'd run down there and let the buttons shoot the shit outta me."

"You wanna eat or not?"

"Alright then, come on." She said. "What's your name?"

"Miller." He said. "Yours?"

"Betina Majorca-Christophe Marino." She said. "Or just Bet."

They walked five miles to Pacific Beach, taking a long detour to avoid the Grand Avenue checkpoint. On a tarp someone had spray painted the words 'Free Soup' with an arrow pointing down to an open garage door. Bet and Miller climbed the wooden stairs and entered a small dark warehouse space. There were folding chairs set up in rows on either side like a church, and a stage area in front, made of cinderblocks. There were some sunburnt drunks sleeping near the back, and a couple of scrawny punks with skateboards near the front, sharing a smoke. Miller and Bet sat in the middle near the aisle.

They sat for a long time, not talking much. Miller was distracted by his hunger, he clutched his stomach and watched the door, looking for the soup. A mother with two small children came in, her eyes darting around, assessing the danger of the people in the seats. She sat as far as she could from everybody.

Finally five women in light blue burqas came in, the one leading the way carrying a suitcase. Bet stared at each one in turn. The lead woman set the down the suitcase at the front of the stage and opened it. She took out a long candle and lit it with a red plastic lighter. Each of the other women took a candle from the case and lit them from the first one's flame, and then they walked to the four corners of the warehouse, and put the lit candles in holders on the walls.