Page 49 of The Guy in the Alley

Wait, what?

“You want me to give him food or…?”

That made no sense. Cliff had overdosed over a month ago, and I’d assumed a shelter had taken the dog.

“I’ll handle it,” I replied absently and headed for the hallway. He was dead, wasn’t he? I was sure of it. I’d woken up to the sound of sirens down in the alley, and it was unfortunately not the first time. Cliff had spent more than a few nights outside my apartment over the years, but he’d been one of those people you knew would never get rid of his addiction.

I grabbed a larger flashlight in the hallway, just in case, and shoved the door open. Greasing the hinges was on the list, ’cause the snow melting wasn’t enough, evidently. We’d had nice weather the past couple of weeks, and spring was in the air.

A second or two before I’d flicked on the flashlight, I heard a dog barking, and sure enough, it was Cliff’s shaggy little Ziggy.

As I descended the stoop steps, I shifted the light so I could—never mind. I saw a man on the ground farther in. Curled up like that, he could be drunk or high off his ass, he could be asleep, he could be dead, or he could be ready to pounce.

“What’re you doin’ here, Zig?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the man. This was no sneak attack on my part; I wanted the man to hear my voice.

Ziggy barked again, tail wagging, and he ran over to the man.

I approached more cautiously. “Is everything okay here, sir?” Or ma’am? I supposed it could be, but I was playing the odds here, and it would be a very, very large ma’am.

Ziggy had zero qualms and even licked the man’s face, which caused a reaction. Good, he was awake. He grunted something and batted Ziggy away, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the dog was anxious. He wouldn’t leave the man’s side.

I came to a stop some seven feet away, and I dimmed the light just a bit. The man didn’t pose an immediate threat, so there was no need to blind him. But—nuh-uh. It wasn’t him. Was it? No. This guy had a beard. He was scrunching his face together and his beanie was pulled down to his eyes, but it couldn’t be.

Oh, I’d fucking kill him.

I took a couple steps closer, and I cursed to myself. That parka looked exactly like the one I’d given Ben.

“Go away,” he slurred, his voice thick with raspy disuse.

Ben wasn’t a drunk. It couldn’t be him.

I breathed a sigh of relief and closed the distance some more, and Ziggy wagged his tail faster, as if rescue had arrived. The question now was, did someone need rescuing?

“Sir, can I call someone for you?” I asked. “A new twenty-four-seven shelter just opened up over there by?—”

“No,” he croaked.

I frowned. Something about his voice was off, and it still reminded me too much of Ben.

I noticed he was shaking, and I wondered if he was sick.

Fuck it. I had to do something. I couldn’t leave him like this. So if he wouldn’t come inside, I’d have to call an ambulance. Having spring around the corner didn’t mean it was warm, and if he was sick or going through withdrawal…

I made a second attempt to get a look on his face, and I squatted down a couple feet away from him.

Motherfucker.

I clenched my jaw, a storm of a million thoughts and emotions surging up within. It fucking was him. What’re you doing back here, asshole? Had he started using? That seemed unlikely. You’re here. I don’t have to wonder if you’re dead. You’re alive. I swallowed hard. Now you can fuck off again, ’cause you fucking hurt me, you fucking piece of shit. Great, I’d boarded the crazy train.

Since it was him, I lost my patience, not to mention the need to ask questions. I pocketed my flashlight and went over to him, and I bent down and tried to get a grip so I could help him up.

“Quit it,” he groaned. “Stop.”

Something had to be wrong. He wasn’t reacting the way he’d told me he usually did. He’d shared a couple anecdotes about how he always had to be prepared to be jumped. And right there—he’d been holding a small pocketknife, but it fell from his hand when I yanked him into a seated position.

I instinctively pushed off his beanie, and I felt his forehead.

Fuck, he was burning up.

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