They crossed a
four-way intersection and maintained their route along E Street. There were no large buildings in this area of
the city. Here was an abandoned and
unkempt field enclosed by an ancient, chain-link fence; here was an empty, worn
billboard that towered above the trees; here rested a squat building of austere
design, untouched by man for a decade.
Clusters of homes with a Victorian flare rose up on his left and added a
sense of style to the otherwise dreary and rundown neighborhood. Most pedestrians or bicyclists passed by
Renardo without as much as a glance at him; when someone did notice him, he
thought that the swaggering youths would sooner rob him than shake his hand. He mumbled to himself, avoided eye contact,
and continued. The park that he and
Sancho frequented appeared to his left, so he crossed the street and stepped
onto the dirt path that cut through grass and under trees.
He passed a
homeless woman hugging herself for warmth and sat on a bench that stretched
beneath a thin oak tree. Sancho hopped
onto the vacant spot beside him and nuzzled against his arm. Renardo looked out at the park and could not
help but notice how its beauty contrasted with its unsightly surroundings. Even Consumo Tower, that brilliant new
skyscraper guarding the Sacramento River, could not compete with the effortless
architecture of nature. Patches of grass
reached up between masses of red and yellow leaves that served as an autumnal
floor for the park. The young man rubbed
his arms as a chill ran through his body, and he turned his head when he heard
a high-pitched cry to his right. A small
family was playing a game that resembled football; a boy was running circles
around his parents and shrieking with delight as they attempted to catch
him. Even when he tripped and planted
his face in mud, his pure excitement was not diminished. He leapt to his feet and proceeded to engage
in some sort of victory dance while his parents laughed with him.
“Stop being so
emotional, Renardo.” Sancho’s ears perked at his master’s voice. Sensing his sadness, the dog watched him
closely. “You’re like a woman
sometimes. Just stop.”
“I hope talking
to yourself isn’t a habit of yours,” said a voice coming from behind him. “If so, you need to get that checked.”
Renardo
smirked. “How ever did you find me,
Nate?”
His friend
petted Sancho and gently forced him off the bench. He sat beside Renardo. “Firstly, it’s Nathan. Secondly, you really
seem to like this park, for some reason.
It’s a little too close to the road for my taste. I went to your house, but you weren’t there,
so I thought I’d check here.”
“Yeah, I thought
I’d go for a walk. It’s better than
being inside all day.”
“And I see you
brought your sidekick, Sancho, with you.”
The dog cocked
his head to the side at the mention of his name. He stared at Nathan intently, hoping that the
young man would produce a hidden ball or treat.
“So, are you
still planning to go to Philadelphia? Or was it Pennsylvania? Whatever.”
Renardo chuckled. “Nate, Philadelphia is in Pennsylvania. You’ve
always been terrible at geography.”
Nate made a face
at him. “Dude, I’m getting my degree in
criminal justice, OK? I don’t need to memorize the states and all that
junk. Have you looked at a map lately?
There are like fifty of them now.”
“Since when?”
Renardo retorted playfully. He stared
blankly at the homeless woman sitting against a tree, about ten yards to his
left. Her face was hard and
contemplative as she observed her surroundings.
“But to answer your question, yes, I’m going to book the flight
tonight. I just had some things to think
about in the past few days. I wanted to
make sure I had all of my bases covered.”
“One of those
bases being that girl you told me about,” Nate pointed out.
“Man, don’t
remind me,” said Renardo, his voice sour.
“That’s going nowhere fast.”
His friend
frowned. “Didn’t turn out well, I take
it?”
“I’m sure we can
talk about that later. Unless you’d
really like to see me unleash my anger on an innocent tree right now.”
“That would be hilarious,” Nate replied, “but
I wouldn’t want you to re-bloody your scabbed knuckles.”
A small fleet of
black birds landed on the grass before them and began to peck at the
ground. Some of the creatures watched
Sancho warily, hopping back and forth in expectation of a sudden attack. The dog looked at them for a moment, and an
expression of incurable boredom marked his face. He lay down on the grass and planted his head
on the soft earth. The homeless woman
rose to her feet with sudden excitement and, after fumbling through a
weatherworn knapsack, she seized a ball of foil and approached Renardo’s
bench. With a toothless smile, she unwrapped
the foil and revealed the crust of an old hamburger bun. She broke the bread, handed a piece to
Renardo, and proceeded to throw crumbs on the grass. Renardo and Nate exchanged a nonplussed
glance; then, awkwardly, Renardo followed her example.
“Renardo, what
are you doing?” Nate asked dryly, failing to sound serious. “Stop feeding birds. You have to save the city from Malvin.”
“I know, really.” 
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