Mila looks up at the man from her place on the floor. Her vision is blurred from the tears, her ears thump with each heartbeat. A mysterious liquid begins to soak through her jeans. Sad Boy looks down at the Mila with a sly smile. The city continues to move around them as they stand still for what seems like hours.

The cold liquid breaks her trans. The shock slowly begins to fade. She pushes his hand out of the way. “I’m fine.”

Sad Boy crouches so their eyes are at level with each other. She can see his bloodshot eyes and dilated pupils, even in this low light. “This ain’t like whatever nice ass apartment you came from. You won’t last a fucking day on your own. Those two runts aren’t even close to what worst this city has to offer. But if you stick with me, I can get you where you need to go. If you got the money.” He looks her up and down. His smile fades. “You got money right?”

Mila’s arm was still read around where the bruit grabbed her. Her skin still stung. The man in front of her smelled of stale cigars. She tries to swallow some of the shock and almost chokes. In her bravest, toughest voice she replies, “How do I know you won’t try to rob me.”

Sad Boy smiles. “You don’t.” He hands her the gun he had been stashing in his jeans. “But you can shoot me if I try.” The gun shines, even in this dim light. She reaches for the gun, but he pulls it away. “You have to answer my question first.”

“I have money.” Sad Boy hands her the gun. It feels heavy in her hand. She wraps her hand around the handle and is surprised at how well it fits. The danger of the power she holds excites and scares her.

Sad Boy stands. “So you coming or what,” again extending his hand at a distracted Mila.

Mila puts the gun in her bag. She picks up her item and stands on her own. “Where are we goin.”

“You hungry? We can go grab a bite and talk terms. I know a safe bar down the street.”

Mila wasn’t hungry, but a place where she could properly sit was better than this. “Fine. Lead the way.”

Sad Boy smiles. “Come on then!” Sad Boy makes his trek out of the alley, maneuvering expertly around the trash. They exit into a busy street, but no one seems to take notice. She follows him through crowds of people. “They call me Sad Boy,” he shouts over the crowd.

“Mila”

“What brings you to our delightful piece of paradise Mila?”

“I’m looking for someone,” she replies without thinking.

“We’ll you’re in luck. There is nothing in this city I can’t find. Who are you looking for.”

“Let’s just get to your bar first.”

“Well, it’s a hell of a place to be looking for someone. Especially for someone of you pedigre.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re clothes, your look, you scream privilege.”

Mila looks down at her outfit. Her clothes were dirtier than usual. The strange-colored liquid left reaches up her leg. Her hair was messier than usual, matted with dried sweat and possibly more of the mysterious liquid. She smelled like rotten garbage and while some people actively avoided it, most people didn’t seem to notice.

“Well not now,” Sad Boy corrects himself. “But you clothes aren’t made from the same synthetic garbage they use down here and your teeth are clean.”

Mila’s hand moves to her mouth. When was the last time she brushed her teeth? “How much farther?”

Sad Boy stops at the entrance of another alley. “Just through here!” He disappears through the alley.

Mila looks after him. There is a bright neon glow at the other end. She stops at the mouth of the alley. “I’m not doing any more fucking alleys.”

Sad Boy stops with a jolt and turns to Mila. “But it’s right fucking there!” He points at the other end in a feeble attempt to prove his point.

Mila shakes her head. “I’m not going through another alley. I’ll find someone else if you don’t agree to my terms.

“But it..you haven..” Sad Boy notices the tinge of fright that lingers beneath Mila’s stare. He growls in frustration. “FUCK! Fine! Follow me. But this costs extra.” He exits the alley and continues walking down the street.

The smoke starts to get deeper the farther they walk. Small camps and fires have been built between each entrance. They walk over dirty people who smoke at metal pipes, oblivious to the world that walks around them. They walk past a group in a heated argument that ends in blows. Half-naked men and women call from windows and doorways, soliciting clients. A woman walks up and locks her arm with Mila. “You looking for some company sweetheart?” She was a slender woman. Smaller than Mila with raven black hair. She wore an old revealing swimsuit. Her breasts heaved as she followed closely. She smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap liquor.

“Fuck off Minxie, she’s my client.”

“No reason we can’t share Sad Boy. Greed aint a good look for you.”

Sad Boy turns around. “I said fuck off Minx. I’m conducting busy.”

“Well look at who thinks they all important and shit.” Minxie moves closer to Mila till her lips almost touch her ear. She whispers, “I’ll be here for you if you ever change your mind baby. I’ll show you a better time than this fool.” She lets go and walks to the other stranger. He doesn’t take long to accept her offer.

They continue their trek through the redlight district. “It’s not my business what you do, and if that’s what you’re looking for, I won’t stop you, but we need to discuss our business first.”

“How much farther?”

“We’ll we would have already been there already, but you wanted to go the long way.”

“But how much longer?” Mila asks, nervously looking for an escape.

“Well…it depends.”

Mila grows more annoyed with each additional cryptic answer. “Depends on what?” she asks with a stern voice.

“Depends on how fast we can get through that.” Sad Boy points at a large rusting metal gate. Across the top, a sign says “Central Park” in faded letters. But this was no park. Behind the remains of a crumbling stone wall was a sea of tents and makeshift wooden houses. A shanty town that stretches for what seems miles. Sitting across the face of the wall are men, women, and children who star out into the void, lost behind their glazed eyes. There are groups of people who pace slowly around them with a similar glazed stare.

“Zombies?”

Sad Boy shakes his dead. “Drugs.”

“Lovely.”