Jezebel

"Ugh. This city." Jez kicked at a discarded can, sending it skittering away down the cracked, grimy sidewalk.  Jamming her hands deeper into the pockets of her ratty green hoodie, she spat into the gutter and turned down a side street. "People don't even try to clean up after themselves anymore." She skirted the shattered remains of an old TV, heavy motorcycle boots clomping on the warped concrete. Her cell phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans, but she ignored it.

She turned into the convenience store on the corner, nodded to Kale, the owner's son, who was lounging behind the counter, feet up, reading the Enquirer, and grabbed a can of soda from the cooler. As she perused the selection of candy bars, another person entered the small store. She had decided on a Butterfinger and was reaching for it when she heard something hit the floor near the register. Turning to look, she saw a massive man in a black leather jacket towering over Kale.

"What do you mean you don't have it, punk?" she heard him growl, staring in horror as he grabbed Kale by the collar of his dorky red-and-blue uniform shirt and almost lifted him off his stool.

"I-I-I don't know what you're talking about," Kale stammered, visibly trembling. "I think you're in the wrong place. P-please leave now."

"Wrong answer," the giant said, shaking him like a rag doll.

Jez suddenly realized she couldn't just watch Kale get murdered. Walking as quietly as she could in her clunky boots, she slipped around the candy bar shelf to approach the giant from the side. When she had a clear shot, she let out a bloodcurdling shriek and charged straight at him. Startled, he released his grip on Kale's collar and turned to face her.

Which was a mistake.

One steel-toed boot came down hard on his foot as she drove the other knee into his groin. He howled in pain and swung blindly at her. She ducked, feeling the blow whoosh over her head.

"Kale!" she hollered. "Don't you have a gun?"

The giant went pale and bolted from the store, hobbling awkwardly on his hopefully well-bruised foot. She watched him until he turned the corner, then wandered back to the cooler to grab a fresh can of soda, as she had dropped the one she had and it had rolled out of sight. On her way past the candy bar rack, she grabbed a Butterfinger, then continued up to the counter.

Kale pulled himself upright, rubbing his neck. "T-thanks Jez," he squeaked. "This one's on me, I think."

"The fuck was that about?" she asked, popping open her soda and taking a swig.

"No idea," he said, shaking his head. His shaggy brown hair fell in his face and he absentmindedly brushed it back. "That gorilla just assaulted me. I don't know what he was after, but whatever it was I guess he thought I had it. Heh, maybe he was high on something."

"Wouldn't doubt it, not the way this neighborhood's going."

"That was awfully brave of you to attack him like that. He could probably have killed you, you know."

"Eh, it was no big deal. I thought he was gonna kill you, and you have a hell of a lot more to live for than I do, kid."

"Don't call me kid, Jez, I'm not that much younger than you!"

She laughed, a surprisingly sweet sound from such a tough exterior, and play-punched him in the arm.  "Take care of yourself, Kale. And call the cops if the gorilla comes back. He probably is a junkie, and you know how junkies get."

"B-bye Jez. Thanks again."

She pushed through the glass door and back onto the darkening street. There were no cars for a few blocks, so she cut across in the middle of the block and sat on a bench next to one of the few trees that was still clinging to life amid the concrete.

Settling into a comfortable position, she peeled the wrapper from her candy bar and took a bite, staring up at the buildings looming around her, upper floors shrouded in smog. "Fuck this city," she said to nobody in particular, not that anyone was around.  Not many of the city's residents ventured outside anymore unless it was absolutely necessary. "I may have lived my whole life here but I'll be damned if I die in this hole."

Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed. She sighed, closing her eyes. "I remember when it was different, when there were parks and outdoor restaurants and kids playing in the streets. I remember when you could leave your house after dark without having to worry about getting stabbed or shot or kidnapped and sold for parts. I remember when breathing the air wasn't bad for your health."

When she opened her eyes, the sun was setting. "But all that's different now. I wonder if there's any places like that left… surely there must be somewhere. But where?"

Her pop can was empty, and the candy bar long gone. Dropping can and wrapper into a recycling bin, she zipped up her sweatshirt and pulled the hood over her short red hair. Looking like a boy could have its advantages, especially when it came to walking the streets at night. Statistically, women were almost six times as likely to get mugged as men. She jammed her hands in her pockets again and set off down the street, hoping to get home before full dark.