A Flophouse—DAY
I am following Spike through the ruined apartment building and if I start to lag behind the strung out drug dealers and other no-goods lunge at me with switchblades.
Spike calls back to me. “I owe my dealer $2,000 and you will help me try every option to get it before I or we gets killed.”
I call ahead to him. “Your family wouldn’t have to live in this neighborhood, if it wasn’t for your legal fees.”
I pause in a well-lit area to catch my breath, and scan out the window. Outside, an old man in an electric wheel chair is crossing the street when a cop car pulls out. A cop jumps out, and yells, “Get outta the way!” The sound is muted from outside but I watch the cop run up and then kick over the old man’s chair.
When I turn back away from the scene, Spike is nowhere to be seen. When I look back out the window, I now see Spike trading blows with the cop.
But, not wanting to idle in the dangerous hallway, I inch my way down the dark hall, advancing on an open apartment door with a warm light coming from inside.
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