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[01-
FOOD] Winter had come early to Baswell
this year, the snows falling almost a month earlier than expected,
and the snow and ice now encrusted the small town
of perhaps 20 thousand in a white crust and Grey-brown slush. Despite the
early onset of winter, it wasn’t an exceptionally bitter one, the temperature only just low enough
to stop the snowfall from thawing, but only just. All this was lost on an old stray Tomcat, as it
weaved it’s way through the garbage piled up behind Jerry’s
Fry and Grill, looking for any morsels of gristly
steak, which was the main item on Jerry'’ menu, and the bulk
of the old Tom’s diet. However, business was slow the evening before, and
the pickings in Jerry’s Dumpster were slim. So the big, scarred tabby decided to go and find the young human
whom he had “adopted”, and the dilapidated, abandoned office building she used as a home. The old Tom leapt down from the Dumpster, an action
of such grace and fluidity; it belied his age and bulk, not a small amount of which was fat. The cat meandered
through the Baswell back streets, out to what had been the old commercial/industrial area before the
wool mill closed and Baswell’s economy collapsed under it’s
own weight 12 years ago. Since then, very few skilled young people came to
Baswell to fill specialist positions, and more and more of the companies, big and small, pulled out
of the ailing town. Now, if you were graduating from Bas U. you had two options for career. Leave for
another city, or flip burgers at one of the 3 Macdonal's Baswell supported. The average age of Baswell’s
population was getting older with each graduation. But this fact, too was lost on the Tomcat, as he
headed into the dusty, crumbling, and moronically small office building, and went straight for an office
up the back of the building’s only floor. There, under a pile of dirty blankets, huddled a
girl of about 15-16, in the far corner from the doorframe. (From which the homeless, looking for firewood had
removed the door, along with the cheap desk in he office itself, many years ago.) The Tom ambled up to the pile of blankets, and nestled
itself in a nice warm spot, kneading the fabric with its claws, and waking the sleeping girl. The
girl blinked the sleep from her eyes and gave the cat a scratch behind the ear. “Hello Mr. Sagat...”
she mumbled sleepily as she sat up. Cammy yawned and stretched, pushed her braids back over her shoulder
and rubbed at the crick in her neck. In her mid-teens, Cammy was most notable for her
long blonde hair, which she still managed to keep reasonably clean and orderly in two long pigtails,
despite the lack of hot water or even a shower, and her exceedingly blue eyes. Her physique was that of
someone who was obsessively fit, but was notably thin around the ankles and wrists, a sign that she was
eating far less than she should be. The dirty blue outfit she wore under an old woolen jumper and some too-big
track pants was noticeably loose around the bust and waist, where it used to be form fitting. Cammy stood up, much to Mr. Sagat’s irritation,
and went to the window, where the tangled and broken blinds dangled uselessly in front of the cheap chipboard that
covered the broken dirty window. She peered through the hole she had made in the chipboard at the outside
world. “Or should I just say morning…” she scowled at the snow laden clouds above Baswell. Cammy shuffled down the short hall to the only toilet
the building boasted, a small affair, with just one toilet and a sink. The door was gone from here, to, but
thankfully both the tap and toilet worked, although the gas and electricity had been turned off long ago, so
there was no hot water, a luxury Cammy daily missed. She used the facilities, still feeling nervous about
the lack of a door even after the two months she’d been here,
and washed as best she could in the tiny basin,
using the little soap and deodorant she had stolen sparingly. After her morning ritual, and satisfied with the
results, Cammy prepared herself to go out into the midmorning Baswell streets. It was early December, and Christmas shopping was
in full swing, parents dragging children from store to store, the children bleating “mommy, I want
THIS for Christmas!” Teenagers, on their winter break, were hanging out
in groups at the cinema, the arcade, and at the several fast food joints around the city, gossiping, goofing
off, and making out. All of this was very alien to Cammy, who had only
memories of her hard training at Shadoloo, but at the same time it tickled something at the back of her
mind…something almost familiar… Cammy shook her head, clearing her thoughts. The
first thing to think about was food. As she headed to a nearby bakery, her stomach made a loud gurgling
noise. The little bells chimed as she pushed open the door,
and a thin old woman came out of the back. “Yes? What do you want, MISS?” Cammy
wandered over near the cheese & bacon rolls, taking her time. “Oh
nothing, just – THIS!” With that, Cammy grabbed two connected rolls, and
sprinted for the door, flying down the street, the old woman’s screeching voice fading behind her.
After sprinting down several streets and alleys, Cammy jogged to a halt outside an arcade where some sort of argument
or fight was going on. Oblivious, Cammy stood, caught her breath and stared
at her glorious prize, fresh cheese and bacon rolls, two of them! She savored the thought of how they
were going to taste for a moment, and brought the rolls, still connected by the melted cheese, up to her
mouth for a bite… And was knocked off her feet by someone careening
into her from behind. Cammy fell hard into the slush filled gutter, the icy muck soaking her clothes
instantly. The teenager who had tumbled into her had fallen into the
gutter, too, and was also covered in the muck. But Cammy did not notice
him, her cold, wet clothes, or even the burly guy who had pushed the kid in The gutter with her. She had eyes only for the two
rolls… As they sat in the gutter, soaking up the grimy
filth…. Her two rolls, her beautiful, delicious rolls. The big youth walked over, laughing. He was probably
17 or 18, not overly tall, but heavily muscled. He
wore a bomber jacket with the number 32 on the back, had short brown
hair, and obviously thought a lot of himself. He leaned over the teen on the
ground, sneering. “Should watch where yer goin’ sport.
You knocked over this girl here, an’ she landed in the mud.”
He leaned over further and grabbed the fallen guy’s
collar, hauling him to his feet. “ Think you should apologize to the dirty little skeeze,
don’ you?” the frightened youth started stammering an
apology, as Cammy was getting herself up out of the mud unhurriedly.
“Not like that, loser! Say ‘sorry I
knocked you over, skeeze girl.” Even though he was obviously
scared, the kid stood his ground. “N-no. I w-won’t
say-“ “Say it! Say I’m sorry I knocked you-“
The bully never finished that sentence, as he was
busy getting his jaw broken by Cammy’s right fist. “SCUMBAG!” He flew practically 8 feet through the air, landing
in a pile of dirty snow, unconscious. The guy he was holding up by his collar fell back into the gutter,
grunting with the impact. The others gathered around took
one look at the fierce, wild look in Cammy’s eyes, her breath
steaming in the cold air as she panted with rage, and decided elsewhere was a good pace
to be right now. All except two who went over to the unconscious
bully in the snow and three around Cammy’s age, two boys and
a girl, who came over to Cammy & the kid in the
mud, who was also around Cammy’s age. One of the boys helped
up the guy in the mud, and the other turned to Cammy,
who was staring forlornly at the soggy bread rolls. “Thanks for helping Mark, he’s always
getting into trouble with those guys.” He introduced himself
and the others. ”I’m
Jason, and this is Sam and Jess. And you already met Mark.” Mark, now on his feet, also turned to Cammy. Mark
had short brown hair, was what one would call gangly, all elbows and knees, had a slim, almost feminine face, with a
dark, tanned complexion in contrast, especially considering the month. ‘Yeah, thanks. And
I’m sorry for knocking you over, too. If there’s anything
I can do to
make it up to you…” GYUORRP! Mark was interrupted by a loud noise emitting
from Cammy’s empty stomach. Cammy went a deep crimson, mortified, as the others looked not
a little shocked. “Uh, you wanna get some lunch with us? My
treat to thank you for saving my butt.” Mark asked. “Uh, ok.” Cammy replied, just noticing
she was wet, filthy and cold. “But I need to change first”
“We could pick up some stuff at the bakery
near here, and you could clean up at my place, if you want.”
Mark offered. “Sure,” Cammy agreed, “But can
we get some food somewhere else? The bakery might not be a good idea.
The old lady there doesn’t like me much…” The others looked at each other, a little confused.
“Yeah, not a problem. What about Jerry’s grease joint?”
Mark asked everyone. Everyone gave assent, and they
headed off, chatting amongst themselves. As they walked off, Sam turned to Cammy. “Hey,
what accent is that, by the way? British or Australian or something?” “Err...” having no memory of her past,
Cammy was unsure of what to say. “You idiot!” Jason exclaimed. He turned
to Cammy, and then back to Sam. “It’s British, right?
Australians are always saying ‘she’ll be right mate,’
and shit like that, you moron” “Ah, bite me.” Sam responded, all this
was just good-natured banter between friends, and had the air of long practiced tradition about it.
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[INDEX] |
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