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Mandy
Snitches getstitches and thrown into ditches, Mandy.
My younger brother’s words echo in my mind as I step over a broken glass pipe and make my way down the dark alley.
A cat screeches from up ahead followed by dark laughter. My stomach tightens, but I press on. If there’s even the slightest chance, I have to look. When I get closer to the end of the alley, the crying cat scurries past me, hugging itself to the building as it makes its escape.
“Stupid cat. I was only trying to feed it.” A girl’s voice lures me forward.
There’s too little light for me to make out more than a figure. Her eyes have adjusted to the darkness, though.
“Who are you? What do you want?” She stumbles back a step. The dull light from the single streetlamp hits her face. She’s not young at all, but my age.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I say cautiously. I don’t want to chance her running away before I can ask her what I’ve come here to ask.
“You didn’t.” She raises her chin with fake bravado. “What do you want?”
“Who are you talking to, Tammy?” A man staggers out of the darkness, away from a makeshift tent pressed into the corner of the alley. The stale stench of cigarettes and whiskey hits me as he gets closer. It’s mingled with his own body odor that hasn’t been washed away probably in days.
“Just some woman.” Tammy keeps her eyes on me.
“I’m looking for someone, actually.” I fish the photograph from my coat pocket and move closer to them. She stretches out her hand to take the photo, exposing the dark track marks on her forearm. My heart sinks. The scene is too familiar.
She takes the photo and looks at it intently, while her partner takes a passing glance and grunts.
“Why are you looking for him?” he asks, his eyes narrowing. “Is he in trouble?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m looking for him.” I sigh. “He’s my brother, Gunner. His real name is Percy. Sometimes he goes by Viper.” He never liked his real name, and I couldn’t blame him. He started going by Gunner in middle school because he said it was more manly and switched to Viper once he found too much enjoyment on the streets.
“The picture was taken three years ago. So, he’ll be a little older now, his hair’s probably a little longer, maybe has a beard?”
If he didn’t shave, he’d have a full beard within only a few days. And when he’s using, he forgets all about shaving. Or eating.
“I just want to know he’s okay. Have you… have you seen him?” It should get easier, waiting for the answer to this question. But no matter how many times I walk away from these conversations knowing nothing more, my breath still catches when I’m waiting for the answer.
“No. I haven’t seen him before.” The girl frowns. “He’s cute though.”
“Cute.” The man scoffs. “What do you know about cute?” He snatches the picture from her hand and shoves it back at me.
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes and takes a step back. “I’m tired. Good luck finding Gunner/Percy/Viper.” She walks away from me, scratching the back of her neck hard as she climbs into the tent.
“Thanks,” I say. He keeps staring at me, like he’s waiting for something.
“You got a few bucks?” he finally asks. I glance at his arm. His sweatshirt is pushed up enough that his track marks are visible. There’s a fresh sore on his left cheek that’s been scratched. Any cash I give him will probably go straight into a vein.
I shake my head. “No. I’m sorry. I have this though.” I grab the restaurant gift cards I carry with me when I go looking for Gunner and hand them over to him. “There’s enough for you both to have dinner. Maybe even breakfast.”
He squishes his lips together like it’s the last thing he wants, but after a pause he grabs it.
“Thanks,” he mutters and turns his back on me. “Hope you find him,” he throws over his shoulder.
The blast of a car horn greets me as I step out of the alley. Traffic has come to a standstill at the light thanks to a bus unloading. I pull out my phone to check the time. It’s barely seven-thirty, and it’s Friday night. If Gunner is around this area, he’s probably not hanging out in the alleys. Maybe I should be checking bars and club scenes.
It’s been three years since I’ve seen my little brother. I don’t know if he’s using again or if he’s alive, or if he’s safe. But until I know for sure what happened to him, I’m going to keep looking.
I’m his big sister. It’s my job.
Even with the Friday night traffic, it only takes me fifteen minutes to get home once I catch the right bus. I climb up the stairs to the two-bedroom apartment I share with Natalie. My feet hurt from a full day at the office and then walking around town chasing ghosts. I’m tired and could use a hot bath.
