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At least for now.
Astrid checked the street as she exited the homeless shelter. Skid Row was a well-known area in LA as a place for those seeking shelter or needing help to congregate. There needed to be more facilities, as the numbers were growing on a daily basis and space was limited. It was why she tried to bring down as much of the food she made as possible—anything to help the stretched thin facilities.
Not wanting to draw any attention to herself, she lowered the cap she wore and kept her gaze fixed on the cracked pavement as she hurried toward her car. She hadn’t been able to get a spot close to the shelter, so she’d driven back to a parking lot she’d used on a couple of occasions. Normally it was well lit, but tonight most of the lights were out.
Did kids still use slingshots? Had they used the lights as targets to practice their aim?
The sound of an argument reached her. They were speaking Spanish, and while she’d studied the language in high school, it had been a while ago and anything she’d learned had retreated to the far recess of her brain space.
The voices got louder as she approached and cursed. The argument was taking place in the lot where her car was parked. Astrid stumbled to a stop. Two men were badgering another man while another one watched it unfold. Everything in her screamed to walk away. This wasn’t something she needed to get involved in, but her legs refused to move.
The man being yelled at and held down wasn’t cowering, and it shocked her. If anything, his chin jutted in defiance as if to say he could take anything either one of them dished out. Neither of the men threatening him looked like they were there to play. An air of danger surrounded them all, particularly the man who stood to the side with his back to her. He had the most sinister feel about him and Astrid couldn’t even see his face, but he had a tattoo sleeve on his arm.
I need to get out of here. I should go back to the shelter and wait it out. I’ll be safer there.
Astrid took a backward step, only to freeze again as one of the men looked over his shoulder, right in the direction of where she stood. She wasn’t close enough to see the color of his eyes, but after witnessing the way he had been gripping the man, she imagined they were cold and heartless.
Shit!
Turn around!
At last, her internally screamed messages from her brain connected with her body. Astrid turned her back on what was happening and hurried in the direction of the shelter.
A shot rang out, followed by another, and they echoed around the area. Astrid yelped and then stuck a fist in her mouth before darting into the portico of a rundown building. The area stank of urine, and she swallowed down her gag reflex. Beneath the thumping of her beating heart, she caught the sound of rapid footfall and sank farther against the wall, hoping and praying she melded into the shadows.
Had they heard her cry of alarm? Was that why they were racing toward her?
One of them had glanced in her direction, but she couldn’t be sure that he was looking at her. He could’ve been looking at something else. Fear poured over her, and she tightened her muscles, as if that could make her seem smaller than she was.
Why hadn’t there been a parking spot out the front of the homeless shelter?
Why had she chosen tonight to drop off the food?
Why hadn’t she hung around for a little longer, and helped out those serving the food? If she had, then she would’ve seen and heard nothing.
Not that wishing helped right now.
The scurrying footsteps halted not ten feet from her. She waited.
Have they found me?
What do I do?
Are there enough shadows to keep me hidden?
Car doors slammed.
Astrid fought the urge to run. Doing so would give her position away. As it was, the angle of the portico column prevented her from seeing them. She pressed her lips together tightly to stop a yelp of despair from escaping.
The engine fired, and the tires squealed as they pulled away.
Astrid let out the breath she’d been holding and counted to ten. Then twenty, to make sure the car wasn’t going to come back, before leaving her hiding spot. Her legs shook, and she staggered over to the tree, clutching at its thick trunk until her muscles lost their elasticity and could hold her up again. She took in deep breaths to try to rid the lingering urine scent from her nose.
The street was still quiet. Too quiet considering what she’d heard.
Why didn’t anyone come out to see what was happening? Surely they heard the gunshot.
Why wasn’t there a buzz of conversation rising as they discovered the person who’d been hurt?
