White as Ivory

Reference to Monster at Midnight by Julia123 for credit in this continuing story. I really was proud of my work. And depending on the reception I could consider this piece for the Emerald Author challenge.

The blizzard subsided after a short 36 hours.

Though for a ten-year-old kid trying to traverse such a barren, hostile tundra roaming with predatory authority figures, waiting for the city to clear off all the excess became a must.

Lucky for Caleb it was doubtful that Donald and Delilah would even bother to report him missing. Their next check was due in another two weeks, that meant for at least ten days they could put off making a big stink, come up with excuses, get into character, and get the stories straight. That is, if they'd been recovered alive from that fire.

Then again, it didn't matter either way did it?

The best course of action would be to leave the city completely.

Just a few streets down there was a library whose computer he could use and a thrift shop just around the corner of the motel to get some cheap extra clothes.

Looking out the window Peter was salting the sidewalk, bundled in a hideously burnt orange parka, unspooling wool scarf, and gloves with the pointer fingers poking out on both.

"Things are gonna get a bit harder from here on out," he said apologetically to Midnight. An adorable little stray pretty beaten down by life and uncaring older people a lot like he was.

She'd softened some of the broken pieces so that memories of Mother's strawberry scented hair were less melancholy than they were before.

Meanwhile, he could do his utmost to make sure she was loved and cared for. Not that he could do much compared to that Ivory dog he'd dreaded she used to be.

That was probably a terrible thing to think. If only she could be that lucky.

To have a home to call her own, an owner who looked out for her, someone who would care if she were caught by some sick high schooler who was probably the reason old-school asylums from horror movies were thought up.

If anyone were to deserve strap-down beds and some good shocks it was jerks who couldn't care less for the little things like dogs and boys who slept in a basement. Motherless and unwanted.

Pete pursed his lips when Caleb would make his round trips to the library or picking up groceries with the money he was trusted with.

Always too much for the meager things Pete said were necessary for his own little kitchenette or in making breakfasts for the motel guests.

These were the times he was forced to leave Midnight in his care, though if there was an adult to be trusted with the job it may as well have been the one taking him in all this time.

Pete probably had an inkling of what Caleb wanted to do.

When he'd first came in to check on the lodger in Room 216 he'd been using a stolen notepad to chart out bus ticket prices and dog food as well as a leash.

Either way, the friendly drunk didn't voice his concerns or try and get all stern like some teachers would have or start harranguing him like his social worker to "make this work for once."

What if when he did book it out of here, wander around for a bit, he was found by those outcast superhero groups from Teen Titans or Gifted comic books? The notion was a ridiculous one but, hmm. Would a gang be so bad really? If not a superpowered justice brigade, why not be the villain? Those origin stories often started like this.

Too bad comics weren't reality. As much as a group might be nice Caleb had had his share of bad neighborhoods. Gangs often wanted money and something called Coochey. Which sounded like some drink. Probably alcohol.

He thinks some man who ran a group had been pretty blunt about those things. Saying the word hadn't gone over well when he'd tried asking a teacher what it was. Then presto, social worker coming to collect false smile on and sympathy dripping sweet from her lips of the trouble Caleb must have caused.

He could be a handful.

His money was really starting to get low. As expected few people asked questions about a ten year old in a motel, Pete had made sure of it.

Heck, it was no one but two or so clients a week coming in for a one-night room. Pete said a couple were a bit like Caleb. Crazy in love and ready to tie it. Elope was the word he'd used.

Then gone on a wistful tangent about being young and to have some fun if the chance ever arose. "Are you sure you wouldn't want to hash it out with your worker? If anyone deserved to just pop off on the social care system it is you. I dunno you have to be old enough now right, where you can decide what you want?"

"I want for Midnight and me to be together. Foster parents hardly want me around, the social worker never wants to have to see my face."

"I know I am the last person to be harping on it but, geez kid," he moaned, "you look so angry. Please, I-- I don't want to see you like this. Anger like that," Pete shook his head in reproach, though it looked, "you make bad decisions. Piss poor choices about making the pain behind it stop." That Pete was hating and mad at himself most of all.

Caleb couldn't exactly grasp what he was saying. Another one of those adult things then.

"Just Caleb, never forget that Midnight'll need you then and y'know, just knock on doors until someone answers you okay."

"Wha?" "Something I read online. Was I wrong then?"

Was I wrong. Such a question was always a trap. Just waiting for the excuse. To call the child impudent, smartass, ass.

Caleb was all packed up. His hands stroked soothingly at Midnight's neck and between her ears, catching each tremor at knowing what the thing hanging off her owner's-- friend's-- hand was.

Caleb spoke softly when explaining that the leash had to be on. Locking it to her throat and sternum. "First opportunity." He'd take it off.

Until then he held her in his arms, shuffling with an extra duffel bag on one shoulder.

Morning didn't start for the motel until six-fifteen on the dot. It had always been like that and hadn't shown any chance of changing within the eight days he'd been here.

Change from groceries let him save up for bus fare and an extra eight dollar cushion. The rest had become non-perishable foods, a blanket, and basic toiletries. Toothbrush, floss, and toothpaste. Turning in his room key at the empty desk Caleb ended up running a hand through the wood.

Unbidden, he thought of the days Pete would drink his-- actually had he seen him drink in the times they'd talked lately?-- and get Caleb a Pop from the vending machine. He'd let Caleb sit up on the front desk. When had he gotten the gall to do that!

Midnight whimpered, beginning to scratch at the desk. Big, dark eyes seeming to say what he didn't want to admit. "Don't go."

"I don't want to."

And that was ridiculous.

"At least get a ride to the bus stop." Caleb whirled around, undiluted terror pumping through his veins to realize he wasn't alone.

Pete stood there. In awful, stained boxer shorts, a shirt, and fluffy grey collared black robe with open-toed slippers. "Going out alone right now is a virtual game over." And though he really didn't have to, accentuated that point to Caleb with a thumb cutting across his own throat.

Looking to Midnight then to the likely hungover man, gave a dourly apathetic look.

"Now I know your ticket's for eight in the am but look, earlier bus stops goes the same route. You just have to get off at a lovely little park near a pharmacy and wait for the yellow lane. Plus, cheaper fee before the work hour rush."

Caleb still couldn't retract his skepticism.

"I promise you I am sober kid and am not doing this to get a fix for booze." Midnight, didn't seem perturbed as her owner did. Heck, when he picked her up, the first time he'd ever seen such a thing, the puppy leapt up like nothing to lick his face.

Sly old dog.

Traitors the lot of them.

"Fine. But I don't wanna talk."

"Alright then, let's go."

And from somewhere Pete took out his keys. But Caleb didn't want to think from where. The robe had no pockets. There was only one delay for Pete to get some pants on, knowing he'd "forgotten something," but smiling much too widely and goadingly for Caleb to believe otherwise. Still a fifty-fifty on the sober bit. Buut, he walked just fine either way.

When putting his key in or his seatbelt on he didn't fumble around about it. Overall it was a smooth, meandering drive through the streets for the Central bus terminal as sun began to rise in power from the sky. Pete put on the radio to fill the silence at around six thirty. With only forty minutes to reach their destination.

And when they did Midnight was the first to peep out the window and bark, alarming Caleb just about to doze off. Head in distant memories that were already fading from importance of a basement and rickety heavy shower head for a low-floor bath.

Peeking out he realized what had Midnight's hair stand on end.

A woman waiting where the bus would come.

She wore a smart pantsuit in aqua marine with chunky blue ball earrings and running mascara. From rubbing at her eyes, muttering to her self and cleaning with a kerchief.

Just when Pete took out his phone so did the woman. Caleb leveled a glare toward the drunken motel owner.

"I can't see your pupils that's not good."