The Girl Who Kept Running

3. The Girl who Slept in the Jasmine's Shade

22-23 September, 2050

Sometimes she felt she had been running all her life. 

It hadn't always been like that, but the persistence of a refugee life felt never-ending sometimes. 

Today's run felt good, however. In her pocket, she held fifty dollars that she had promised Caleb she'd take back one day as they were hers. 

After a long run away from the theater, she had at last found a bus stop but decided on a little culinary detour. While that digression - a little Polish joint hidden among the shabby buildings in view of the inundated beach - was much needed, it had delayed her. 

She couldn't reach a stop in time for her bus and had to embark on a longer route with two bus changes and one lengthy stop at a recharging station for the vehicle's electric battery.

Now, she would be arriving at Vera's house by midnight.

She had to get off before the bridge into Corkscrew Colony. As she strode onto the main street of the half-deserted town, she slowed down. There was something very creepy about this place tonight. It felt quieter than usual, almost sinister. She could feel the down alert on her arms, pulling at her muscles. 

It was the homeless row.

They were lying on cardboard strips, torn blankets, or plastic sheets, at the base of a small post office building. One had a sleeping bag wrapped around his legs, but his feet were peeking through a tear. 

They were too fast asleep, dozed off in nanoseconds, their heads or necks awkwardly positioned. Their legs had the reclining postures of a wakeful rest magically paused in the moment, rather than oblivious sleep. Some even had their arms up, angled on elbows as if they forgot to put their limbs down lost in thought. 

Had they all fainted? Had they all ... no, she could see the chest of the man nearest to her rise and fall, breathing. And why would they be all dead? That would make no sense. 

A bad feeling made its way up from the pit of her stomach. But the only thing she could do at this late hour was take out her phone and take some pictures.

As she made her way into the town, she found a General Access Portal painted on the narrow wall of a strip mall and uploaded the pics to the Homeless Tracker website. 

***

"Why in the world did you guys move to this God forsaken town?" she asked Vera, whispering in her backyard. 

"Shush, I don't want any of them to wake up!" Vera pointed through the open window to the sleeping figures on her bedroom floor. Cousins a dime a dozen had decided to descend that very day on Vera's home for a sleepover. Meaning, Vera won't get her coveted, clandestine sleepover with her dear Chanbeli tonight, unlike the last two nights. 

She smiled at Vera's use of that old nickname, about the only thing in the world that carried the flavor of home. 

Vera hugged her again. "Are you sure you would be okay?" 

"Vera. Your friend is very resourceful. Don't worry. Climb back in and go to sleep. I'll be back when they're gone." She hid her worries well to keep her voice reassuring for Vera.

"I'll text you," Vera nodded her head with a sad but warm smile. After another hug and a kiss to Chanbeli's cheek, Vera climbed back inside and shut the window pane. With a morose wave of hand at the sight of her childhood friend standing outside without a roof on her head, Vera let the curtain fall.

***

Chanbeli. 

The echo of that name won't let her sleep tonight.