11. The Savior Of East Street

THE SAVIOR OF EAST STREET Winter came, bringing cold air, snow, and desperation. The city of Aneplex had a small island that extended its populous out to the Pacific Ocean. Even though the little island counted as part of Aneplex, the population there did not feel the same. On the island there was one school for all ages, one movie theater, and one bridge that led into the city. On the Eastern side of the island, a select few wealthy individuals built their estates in the hope of finding some kind of peace and quiet. It began to snow just as the final school bell rung for the day. The jovial children ran through the streets, making a great deal of noise as they went. A particular girl slowed down a bit to ensure that all of her books had been collected and arranged neatly in her bag. She looked at herself in the mirror after using the restroom. She resembled quite greatly Shirley Temple, and felt quite complimented whenever someone said so. Her academics were a little messed up, because she had to come into the year at some random point in November. She had to wear a stupid tag that said, “Hi, I'm Alex." She tore it off once she saw it again in the mirror. The truth was that everyone already knew who Alex was from last year. She was unnaturally smart, mature, and manipulative. In her eyes, one could sort of see the calculations going on in her head behind them. She was all filled up with wisdom from her Grandfather, who died two years ago. A year after that, both of her parents died while trying to fly to Los Angeles. Since her Grandmother was sitting her at the time, she ended up just staying there. A check came in the mail, and suddenly Alex's Grandmother could afford her medication, food was on the table, and all was fiscally well. She did not want to enroll for the sixth grade, but she got tired of her Grandmother acting so disappointed all the time. Alex walked out of the bathroom, then out onto the playground yard. A huddle of boys made up her peripheries on her left side. She observed the activity with curiosity. There were eight of them. Four were seventh graders, and the others were fifth. The larger seventh graders were pinning the little ones against the wall. The smallest two were whimpering and crying. The other two were trying to push back and act tough. The seventh graders pushed them in to the brick wall in intervals. Then they started to slap them, kick their shins, and spit on them. Alex walked up behind the largest seventh grader, grabbed his hair, and pulled him backwards. Since he was caught off guard, he slipped and fell backward. On his way down, she gave him an elbow to the nose, with such velocity that the nose was crushed. He was left writhing on the floor. The other three turned to see their leader in agony. One of them grabbed Alex and over powered her; while the other set himself up to hit her as she was being held. The last one ran away when he saw how badly hurt their leader was. He punched her in the stomach, perhaps not having the heart to hit her in the face. She swiftly kicked him in the crotch. He doubled over and moaned, then busted into tears. The most courageous of the fifth graders snuck behind the boy holding Alex and together they forced him off. Learning a new trick from her, they each had a turn kicking him in the crotch. All of the seventh graders were incapacitated. “Thank God for you Alex." said a boy, his face red and irritated from crying. “What is wrong with you all?" she asked, furious. “Cowards, I say!" Collectively they cowered, backs against the wall. “You each owe me your allegiance and respect. You each owe me a favor." she demanded. She put hand over her stomach and grimaced. They said nothing, but watched her, terrified. “Be at fifth and east, tonight at seven. Do not be late." Collectively they nodded. Alex turned and left. It was straight march home through the harsh wind and snow. Her grandmother's door was olive drab green with painted golden numbers on the front, over the peep hole. It was unlocked, because her grandmother was bedridden, and they never got around to making the extra key. The original one was lost in the clutter of the master

bedroom. She walked inside, then upstairs, and to her Grandmother's side. A strained face peered from behind old-lady glasses. “How was school, pumpkin?" she asked. “I love it there. Everyone is so nice, even the older ones. If it's all right, I'm going to have some of last year's friends over." " That's fine pumpkin. Now please bring me my dinner." After a bit of chores, she was off to the soup kitchen. It was a short walk from their little house, and much more comfortable now that she had an extra coat from home. The homeless and destitute were lined so far down the street that she could see them before she got there. She could see the clouds of hot air escape their mouths and noses, as if all of the hundreds were smoking invisible cigarettes. Alex walked around the line and ducked into the alley created by the small split in the two adjacent buildings. There was a door that presumably once was white, but for some reason now was yellowed. She let herself inside, and immediately felt the warmth of a dozen stoves. Volunteer workers, all dressed in aprons, and bustled about endlessly. They were cooking a million things at once. She found her red apron on the wall. A tall man came and smiled at her, and immediately he received a formal looking slip of paper. “I need you to sign my community service thing." she declared, as she handed it over to him. Work was nothing, knowing that a little bit of help would do a world of good. She worked on small tasks before she started to cook. There was stove with an unoccupied burner, so she started cooking soup. An older looking black lady came up to the other burner and did the same. The lady spoke to her in a smoky voice, saying, “There ain't too many young people around here anymore." “Well, what can I say?" Alex replied. “Why do you come here?" asked the lady. “Community Service." she answered, blatantly. “Why do you?" she asked. “I’ll tell you why..." the lady seemed to hesitate. " Well the way I see it, people are coming here more and more these days. The rest of them can't make it here, and they starve. They're starving all over the place now. That Mr. Rockdelong sits in his house on the East side and lets it happen." " What do you mean, ' he lets it happen'?" asked Alex. “Well, he owns all the grocery stores here. He jacked all the prices up... Now all the people want the cheapest thing... There's nothing left for the poor to afford. So they come here. We don't always have enough... In fact, we never do." She turned the dial counter-clockwise and took the pan of soup off the burner. Then the lady disappeared into the double doors that led into the cafeteria. Alex peered out of the door, and some of her golden curls fell into her eyes. In the cafeteria she could see a hundred men, women and children, stuffed into a box room. She looked upon their faces and saw their desperation. She saw the red noses, the coughing, and the skeleton figures of the malnourished. Outside the windows were clouded by the people waiting to get inside. It was a sad sight to behold, even though she had seen it before. She saw it now with new eyes. She thought of this Mr. Rockdelong, and tried to imagine his face. It was easy to picture a man in a suit, smoking a cigar and reading the Wall Street Journal. He must have been so uncompromising, so lacking in sympathy, counting his money there in his office. In her head, Alex was hatching a plan, one that was equally uncompromising and cruel. She walked home. The sun was beginning to set. The snow was setting in, packed on either side of the sidewalk. As she rounded the corner, she could see the small collection of friends waiting for her arrival. “What a glorious day for a meeting, eh comrades?" she said as she approached. Seven of them were girls, a few younger, and a few older. The other three were boys, the ones she had protected after school. One of them had skipped out, she thought, she'll get him tomorrow. “It is, Master." said one of the girls. The boys all looked at each other when the girl said “master." They began to wonder what they had stumbled into.

Alex led them into her cramped living room, and sat them all down. She played hostess, bringing them all a drink or something to eat if they wanted it. Sitting on the love seat next to her, was her right-hand girl Margaret. She could be trusted to the fullest extent, at least according to Alex. She was also the prettiest, which set her apart from the others. When Alex was talking, the boys generally were looking at Margaret instead. “I have brought you all here," began Alex, “Because I am hatching a plan. Part of that plan involves these new boys. So please, boys, make yourselves known." " What do you mean?" asked a boy. “Well how about you introduce yourselves?" asked Alex. “I am David." said one. He was the biggest, and also the bravest. “Timothy." said a kid with curly red hair and freckles. “Wes." said the last. He was the only black one. This made him uncomfortable. ”Good to meet you comrades." Alex said. “Why don't you move along to the point that we are all here for; the plan that you are hatching." said Margaret. Alex shot her a look, her eyes demanding apology for the insurrection. “OK, fine." said Alex. The rest of the room had their eyes fixed upon her. “I have heard of a man who lives on the East side of this island named Mr. Rockdelong. He is a man of money... Money that we could certainly use to help people out." she explained. “What do you mean money that we could use? How could we get him to give it to us?" asked Margaret. “He wouldn't give it to us, we would steal it. We could break into his house and steal all of his stuff." " That sounds like a good way to get into a world of trouble." declared Wes. “What would we do with the stuff anyway?" asked Margaret, “We couldn't keep it. That's not why we formed this club." " I know that! We would bring it to separate loads to something called a pawn shop. There are two of them here on the island." " How could we get inside his house?" asked Margaret. “I don't want to do this. Is it too late to back out? I'm glad you helped us after school, but seriously, you can't expect us to do this for you. I'd rather get beaten up than go to that juvenile hall place." said Timothy, with his face turning red from anxiety. “One thing at a time, please!" said Alex, and held up both palms as if she were at gun point. There was a pause before she continued, saying, “I will think of a way for it to work out before the day comes. As for Timothy's question: No, you cannot back out, you already know what we're going to do. If you really don't think that what I did for you was enough, that's fine, I will do something else for you. But you can't be trusted unless you're at equal risk." said Alex. “Show some courage," began David, “Alex could have been hurt very badly. Let's not forget that." " What are you going to do with the money from the pawn shop?" asked Margaret. “It’s simple really." Alex said, “We’ll buy food from his very own stores, then give it to the people who need it, like the people in line at the soup kitchen." There was another moment of hesitation and a look of anxiety on all of the faces except for Alex's. “We didn't make this club to commit crimes." said Margaret. “And I didn't make this club to hear your mouth all day." said Alex. “We made this club to make a change on this island- a change that Adults are incapable of handling. One that they'll never even try to achieve for themselves." Their heads lifted from gazing at the floor. Her speech had awoken something inside of them. Margaret just frowned. The night passed as they moved onto other subjects, more lighthearted topics. They talked about ' silly' things, and made fun of the boy who did not show up., but was rescued by Alex. She continued to play hostess until it was late and they were all yawning. She showed them all out, and walked a few of them part way home. Upstairs, Alex's grandmother was sound asleep and snoring. Alex snuck as quietly as she could inside the room, and then ducked down on all fours. She made her way to the closet, doing her best not to disturb the multitude of contents that surrounded her. In a shoe box, buried way down under a pile of old clothes, she found a Luger pistol. It reminded her greatly of the first time

that she had seen it, when her Grandfather was telling his stories. “When the fighting stopped we were real comfortable in their village." He said. Alex rejoiced in the opportunity to listen. “Then they hinted to us that one of those, what do you call it? A ' Concentration camp' was on the other side of the forest. So the unit moved up there very carefully. I moved out ahead, faster than the rest of the unit. There was only one of those krauts guarding the poor Jews. I saw them all, starving to death. I looked at their faces through my scope. I had never seen anything like that before, and I hope I never do again. I was so overwhelmed, that I shot the officer right there in the head," he said, and poked her in the temple playfully, "and I kept his pistol for all these years. Couldn't tell you why." Her grandfather's voice faded in her head, for all she had of him was his memory. She took the pistol and a box of ammo, and stuffed it all into her pocket. She quietly slipped out of her room and into her own bedroom. She slept quite soundly. As the days passed, Alex grew in confidence, until the day had come. She reached the peak of her zealous leadership. The boys and girls were gathered outside of her house again. It was midnight, and the snow was pouring down. “Let’s go." she said calmly. The eleven of them walked in unison with their faces to the East, their hearts fluttering like butterflies. It was about six miles away, with another mile or so of private trail leading up to the manor. There was a formidable stone wall surrounding the perimeter of Mr. Rockdelong's property. The stones weren't by any stretch uniform, so it was easy to climb over. “How do we get in?" Margaret whispered, as the group collectively hid themselves in the foliage around the house. “The other day," said Alex, "I managed to speak to one of his servants, and he said he'd leave a window cracked for us, and leave the alarm off." “When did you speak to a servant of his?" Margaret whispered. “The other day at the soup kitchen. It doesn't matter, let's go." replied Alex. The kids circled the base of the building looking for the open window. Once it was found, all eleven of them were inside, patiently waiting for Alex to guide them. “Take only the most valuable looking things," she said, and took the Luger out from her pocket, “Anyone caught keeping things for themselves will answer to me." Their eyes all widened. “And don't follow me upstairs." David and the boys led the now terrified girls through the house and took, as instructed, everything of value. They put things in pillow cases until each of them were hauling around two or more bags full of stuff. Alex slipped up the grand staircase, and quietly popped her head into each room until the master bedroom was found. Mr. Rockdelong had no wife, so he was sprawled out, sleeping well on his bed. Alex walked up to the left side of his bed. “I have come for you..." she said her voice low and steady. Her hand brought the pistol up to point at his forehead. Mr. Rockdelong's eyes opened, and he squirmed on the bed, terrified. “Who are you? What do you want?" " Equality has come for you... One day everyone will be well fed and happy, because there won't be any class division... Everyone will care for the essential needs of their fellow man before they indulge in excess... Kids will play in the street no longer fearing the faceless manifestation of crime... You will view the world you helped create crumble and make way for my new vision, all through a little glass window in Hell." His eyes were locked upon her; his thoughts were racing and fragmented with panic. Who was this girl? Where did she learn to talk like that? Alex pulled the trigger; the back half whipped back then fell back in place, as the bullet rocketed out of the barrel and into his head. In a blink of an eye, Mr. Rockdelong's blood splashed across the pillow. All the kids downstairs stopped dead in their tracks when they heard the gunshot. “No!" cried Margaret, “No! No! No!” the tears streamed down her cheeks. The other girls took notice to her, but didn't know how to react. “Let’s get on with it." demanded David, as Wes and Timothy lined up behind him.

The children fled the house and scurried about the city. They carried out their plan, selling each thing they sold at pawn shops around the island. In the morning, the snow subsided as the children walked to separate grocery stores. Alex prepared herself for the day in the usual manner. It was Saturday, a good day, a bright day in winter. It was time for Christmas to come early for the people on the island. It was time for her walk to the soup kitchen, and see the happy and well fed faces of her people. When she arrived, she found broken glass and splintered wood in the street. The inside of the building was vacant. Her heart pounded, and her breath went short. She ran outside in confusion. David wrapped around the corner at the same time. “Alex!" he said, and she turned to him. “What’s going on? What happened?" she asked. “All of the grocery stores were shut down this morning! The sign said something about ' in observation of tragedy'" he explained. “So you could not get any food?" she asked. “No," he said, "and neither could the soup kitchen... the poor are rioting in the East!" “Let’s go!" she said, mustering herself up for the long walk. When they arrived, crowds of people were gathered in separate mobs. They were breaking out windows and taking the groceries for themselves. A smile crossed her face when David looked at her. “This is justice. This is change." she said. “Should we join in?" asked David. She nodded, and they lost themselves in the mob. There was a gas station that had the windows blown out, so Alex decided to head inside. She started grabbing all of the chips and candy she could hold. A form dropped in behind her. “Where is your pistol?" said a voice. “In my house." she said, recognizing the voice. Alex turned and saw Margaret pointing the Luger at her. “Behind your unlocked door?" asked Margaret, with a strange and satisfied smirk on her face. “Don’t-" “You killed him in cold blood, and you started this riot... The only change you have made has been for the worse." " Please, no." whispered Alex. The gun cracked and the bullet hit Alex in the chest. Her knees folded, and she hit the ground, dead. Riot police crossed the bridge and tear gassed them all. The riot stopped in a hail of rubber bullets and wood batons. The group never met again, and the island laid in ruins. Margaret left the island and found a new home in the real city. Her conscious never bothered her, for she believed she had administered justice. The raggedy group dispersed. But somewhere, David collected pieces of metal, stone and glass. He was building a statue of Alex, the Savior of East Street.