Scab

Scab sat on the edge of the pipe looking down into the street below gleeful of his discovery. He barely even noticed as the desire to brag about his new home was quashed by an already sharply honed sense of self-preservation. There were so many things that he could remember from home that weren't available to him anymore, from telling people about his successes through to basic things like his name.

He had long since given up trying to get people to call him James. In truth, the only person who had ever called him by that name had been his mother. Her various boyfriends, the ones that had acknowledged him anyway, had generally referred to him as 'the boy' or other less pleasing epithets. His mother had however always called him James and treated him with respect (although he had never understood at the time, only that he felt warm when she called him that). Scab (for that was how he thought of himself now) struggle to contain the tears that his memories brought with them and forced himself to focus only on the present.

This was definitely a prime piece of real-estate. He was about two stories up and had a clear view down the one way alley that led up to the pipe. Anyone coming into the alley would be seen or heard well before they would be in a position to do him any harm. The area was reasonably built up but if he stayed further back than light came into the pipe then he would not be seen by any of the other residents of this area. Best of all though, the pipe had been protected by two strands of mono-wire. It had taken him hours to work out a way of removing them so that he could climb in without hurting himself but now they provided the ultimate security measure, none of the other kids would ever be able to catch him up here. With the pride of someone who had ensured their survival for another day keeping him warm, and the pipe (ironically it was previously a mains water pipe) keeping him drier than he had been in months Scab slipped quickly into the light sleep of a street kid.

Several hours later he awoke to the muffled screams of someone becoming a victim in his alleyway. Being twelve and not at all inclined to self-analysis, it did not strike him as at all unusual that having been here a matter of hours he considered the area his. Hard won caution warring with his naturally curious personality Scab slow and very cautiously edged his way towards the end of his pipe hoping to get a view of what was going on. Finally reaching the end of the pipe he was excited to note that his luck was definitely running hot, down below a pimp was working over some guy, a scantily clad woman pleading for mercy stood to one side.

The pimp stopped kicking for a minute to yell obscenities at the woman then growing more angry by the second yelled.
"You think you're gonna go away with him bitch? I own you, no way are you backing out on me."
By this stage the woman was sobbing and promising to be good if only he would let the man go. The pimp, well known locally as a man not to mess with, laughed nastily pulling a wicked looking knife made sure that his competitor wouldn't interfere again. He then dragged the woman, now screaming in hysterics, from the alley and up the street.

Knowing that he didn't have much time before competition arrived, Scab quickly disengaged the mono-wire and scrambled down to street level. Without so much as a pause he rushed over to the dying man and ignoring the wet sounding pleadings for help, removed the mans warm leather jacket and some miscellaneous items from his jeans pockets then scampered back up to his doss. It had been a fine cut thing, within seconds of his having reattached the mono-wire a non-descript van pulled up at the end of the alley and a couple of rough looking men ran down the alley and having grabbed the corpse, surely the man was dead by now, rushed it back to the van then piled in themselves and drove away, casual as could be.

Scuttling back on his stomach Scab emptied all of the jacket pockets and put on the jacket. It was much too big for him, but the added warmth was a welcome relief from Seatle's crisp mid-November air. Using the growing morning light Scab looked through the items in front of him. His suspicions had been right, this was the find of a lifetime. Not only had he secured a warm jacket to ward him against the evening chill, he had also gained several pieces of paper that he might be able to sell and joy of joys a flick knife.

Perhaps now the older boys would leave him alone.