Page 3 of Generation Lost

“It’s not much, but at least we’re mostly dry,” said the woman. The small group of friends looked around at the rag-tag bunch of elderly people and frowned. “My name is Annie, but the others are all friendly, decent people who will be more than happy to introduce themselves to you. We try to help one another.”

“This isn’t right,” said Otto. “It’s just not right. We worked our entire lives to be able to live a quiet, peaceful life for our last few years. Hiding in an abandoned warehouse, begging for food, or worse, stealing food is not where I thought I’d be.”

“It’s not where anyone thought they’d be, Otto,” said Annie. “Not one person here thought they’d be living in poverty, begging for food. Some of these people are making weekly trips to the charity hospital just to get their medications to stay alive. But for what? For all of this luxury?” She scoffed, then shook her head.

“Some of these people are sick?” asked Marion. “Can we help?”

“If you have any medical knowledge, that would be great. I have two people who need medications that we can’t afford, and if they go to an urgent care, we might have social services called or worse. We’re waiting for daylight to go to Charity Hospital and see if they’ll give us another month’s worth. They want addresses, and we can’t give them that.”

“What about Social Security checks? How do we get those?” asked Jim.

“We use this P.O. Box,” she said, handing them a sheet of paper. “You’ll need to get down to the Social Security office and change your address. Hopefully, they won’t question why you all have the same box number. If they do, just say you’re pooling your resources. Everyone chips in a dollar a month to pay for the box.”

“That’s fair,” nodded Herb.

“You can set your things along that wall over there. It’s the only dry area for now. If you find some old wooden pallets, those work great to keep things off the cold floor. We’ve even managed to take a few apart and make beds.”

She was an attractive older woman with silvery hair cut short to her scalp. Her bright blue eyes scanned the room of more than thirty people. The youngest was sixty-nine, the oldest ninety-one. No matter how many people she asked for help, the doors were slammed in their faces. She even tried to get the parish involved, but the local government seemed more than willing to turn a blind eye to whatever was happening.

“We need food,” said another woman, walking toward her. “The last of what we got yesterday is almost gone.”

“What do we have?” asked Annie.

“A loaf of bread, a few apples, and Don got some cheese.”

“It’s not enough,” said her friend. “We’ve got more people tonight. There’s more than thirty of us now.”

“Annie, we can’t stay here. Someone is gonna find us sooner or later. Besides, the rain is making that end of the warehouse flood, and this is the rainy season. It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

“I know that, but it’s all we’ve got right now. I’m trying to find somewhere else for us to go, but I just can’t find anything.”

She looked at the myriad of people before her. Three were in wheelchairs, two had walkers, almost all of them had canes. The worst of them had varying degrees of dementia. It was a constant barrage of challenges trying to keep everyone safe.

She stood and headed to the door.

“Where are you going? It’s dark, Annie. You can’t go out right now.”

“I have to, or we’re going to starve. I’ll figure something out. Maybe a food pantry or something,” she said. “If I have to, I’ll shoplift again from that night market.”

“Annie, we have to find someone that can help us.”

“Who?” she yelled. The others stopped and stared at the woman they considered their leader. She let out a slow breath, shaking her head. She walked back toward the small group who was staring at her, begging her for direction and clarity. She’d been their leader, albeit unwilling leader.

“I’m sorry. But who will help us? Our children abandoned us, those who have children. Almost everyone has called, telling them of our predicament, that we need money or food, and they don’t seem to give a shit.

“Our spouses are dead or moved on to someone better. The government doesn’t give a damn. Healthcare workers couldn’t give a shit. Who? Who do you think will help us?”

“I-I don’t know, Annie. I just feel like there must be someone out there.” Annie hugged her old friend and then turned back toward the door, her own trusted cane at her side.

“If you figure out who, let me know. I’ll knock on their door personally.”

CHAPTER THREE

Miller and Angel laughed at the detective seated across from them. They’d been trying to explain to him how achimpanzeehappened to break the light on top of a patrol car. He wasn’t pissed about it, just curious.

“You know how Mama is,” laughed Miller. “She’s got all them animals out there, and the chimps are the most curious. Your man was out that way and left the lights rolling. The chimp was curious. He didn’t know what he was doing, and he didn’t hurt him.”

“No, but he scared the shit out of him. Literally. Boy had to go home and change his pants.” They all laughed, shaking their heads. “Look, just pay for the light to be replaced, and I’ll ignore all of this.”

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