R-Zero

Will Martin tightened the tattered and snow-crusted wool scarf around his face as he defied the snow and wind.  The streetlights cast a golden glow as the occasional passing car hurled icy slush toward him.  The smell of exhaust from the bus parked at the corner, the occasional humming of overhead electrical transformers, the tinny Christmas music blaring from the speakers mounted to the various storefronts he passed and the clanging of the bell being rung by the Salvation Army Volunteer all contributed to the pounding in his head.  But tonight there were other reasons for Will Martin’s suffering.

He pulled his stocking cap down further, exposing only a slit to see in the bitter cold.   Madison had several men’s shelters but demand was strong this Christmas eve.  Tonight’s headache threw off Will’s sense of timing and he arrived at St. Mary’s just minutes after the last bed was filled.  There was no choice but to look elsewhere.  He knew of a heated garage on the university campus, about a half-hour walk on a good day, in this storm at least an hour.  He’d have to warm up somewhere or he’d never make the trip.

A few bocks away where some of the city’s homeless gathered, there would likely be a fire going where he could warm up.    Although he would have preferred otherwise, it was his only choice since it was late.    Will cut through the churchyard. In some spots there were drifts and he lumbered through knee-high snowfall.  He crossed the street and then turned into the dim alley, immediately feeling some relief from the freezing wind.  At the end of the alley between two stores, a group of men huddled around a fire blazing in a rusted and scorched barrel. These were the tougher ones, mostly criminals, addicts, and alcoholics  They all stared at Will and grew quieter as he walked toward them. 

“What you want?” one of the leaders yelled.

“I’m not staying, just need to warm up if that’s okay.” Will replied as he pulled the scarf down.  Letting his face be seen was a gesture showing that he meant no harm.  The leaders called the shots, but still responded well to the slightest of courtesies. 

The man who was heating up food looked Will over.  “Hey, you’re that guy aren’t you?”  Will ignored the question.  The man continued to look at Will suspiciously.

“Yeah, yeah you’re that guy.”  Now, Will could feel the stares from each of the men. 

The leader then produced a spoon from his pocket and walked a few feet away from the fire as he began eating.  The other men watched as he gulped his food, gasping in air to cool the piping hot stew.

Suddenly the pot clanged to the concrete as the man held his throat, choking uncontrollably.  Will ran to the man and tried the Heimlich maneuver to dislodge whatever it was that cutting off this man’s air.  The man awkwardly collapsed to the concrete, his eyes bulging as his legs kicked at the air.  Will struggled as he held the man’s mouth open and probed his fingers into the man’s throat.  The man clawed and swung at Will frantically.  Most of the men now ran from the alley not wanting to be witness to what they thought to be a man’s agonizing death. 

Will yelled, “Give me your knife – now!”  The man took his knife from his pocket, tossed it to within a few feet of Will and ran from the alley.  One last man stayed by the fire and stared, spellbound by the unusual display.  With remarkable speed, Will looked around at the garbage barrels a few feet away and spotted a discarded beverage straw still in its plastic lid.