Homeless #3

By Christopher Lee Cousino

Randy Hudson has lost everything. His wife and children have been murdered and ripped from his life. The gang responsible has fooled everyone into thinking it was a random robbery gone wrong, and the police not only believe it, but are partially involved in the cover-up. Numb to it all, Randy has decided to give up on everything and has gone off the grid, disappearing into the streets of Detroit and into the bottom of a bottle. But the past never stays buried for long. Soon, Randy will realize there is only one thing he wants buried...his family's killers.

This is the 3rd story in the ongoing Homeless series, chronicling the origins of a brand new superhero.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Lee Cousino
• Release date: Aug 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370573004

Christopher Lee Cousino

By day, Christopher Lee Cousino is a Licensed Practical Nurse at a group home for special needs adults. But by night, he morphs into Super Writer, an author with the ability to lose sleep and create fiction for your enjoyment. He is hard at work on many novels and stories, so stay tuned. Christopher lives in Hudsonville, Michigan with his beautiful wife, three wonderful children, two free-loading cats, and his brave, loyal chocolate lab. www.christopherleecousino.com

Book preview

HOMELESS

By Christopher Lee Cousino

HOMELESS #3

Homeless Short Story Series

By

Christopher Lee Cousino

PUBLISHED BY:

BSIC Publishing on SMASHWORDS

Homeless #3

Homeless Short Story Series

Copyright © 2016 by Christopher Lee Cousino

SMASHWORDS Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

HOMELESS is a work of fiction.

Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

FOR MOM

THE ONLY SUPERHERO I’VE EVER KNOWN, AND ALWAYS AND FOREVER, MY FAVORITE ONE.

Billie Sue Cousino

R.I.P.

10/21/54-----7/16/11

Show me a hero and I shall write you a tragedy

Unknown

Chapter 1

Six months later

Zeke Cline stood close to the trash can fire, trying to stay warm. It was November in Detroit, Michigan and it was a bitterly cold night. The gaunt elderly man pulled his ratty old trench coat shut tightly as the whipping wind tried to blow it open. Hugging himself and rubbing his arms, he cursed to himself, wishing he lived in Florida. Unfortunately, though, when you’re homeless you don’t exactly get to pick what state you live in. Shit, he thought as he shivered. He was freezing his balls off! He needed to warm up!

After thinking for a minute a light bulb went off in his head. He had just the ticket. Digging his hand into his pocket for his flask, he was disappointed to find it was empty. He frowned and hung his head. A nice long swig of whiskey would have warmed him up. Maybe his friend Nobody had some. Perking up, Zeke looked across the dancing flames at the big man on the other side.

He’d met Nobody a few months back. Zeke had been asking for spare change without much luck on Oak Street, and had seen a giant homeless man sitting against a wall. He was passed out, holding a brown bag bottle in his hand. Zeke’s mouth had watered as he considered his options.

The guy was huge, well over six feet and built like a linebacker. But he was silly drunk and out cold. Zeke had really needed a drink and with the poor luck he had been having with bumming for change, he figured this was an opportunity for his luck to turn. And he wasn’t gonna pass it up.

He’d crept up close to the big man, squatting down so they were face to face. He waved a hand in front of the man’s face, and then softly said, hey. With no response he had given the man a little tap, then a nudge, then a full out shake. Getting no response at all, Zeke had smiled, satisfied. Snickering in delight, he’d grabbed the brown bag concealing the liquid gold.

The second Zeke’s hand wrapped around the bottle, the man’s other hand wrapped around Zeke’s throat. Zeke would never forget the look in the guy’s eyes in that moment. Emptiness and so much anger. The guy had told him to get lost and thrown him back so forcefully the momentum of it carried Zeke backwards onto his butt. He’d quickly stood up and was going to run off, but instead stayed as he saw an opportunity of a different kind.

Zeke had offered to be the man’s friend, arguing that they could look out for each other. The streets of Detroit were mean, dangerous. But they were even worse for the homeless. Not only did you have to worry about gangs, thieves, murderers, and random violence like everyone else, but as a homeless person you had to worry about the police and Mr. and Mrs. Joe Blow. Everybody hated you, everybody wished you didn’t exist. Some even took it upon themselves to make sure you didn’t.

The big man had shown no interest, in fact saying nothing at all. So, Zeke had sat down next to him and began to talk. And it had been that way for the past four months.

Whenever Zeke asked him his name, he would always say he was nobody. So, bored with the same old routine, Zeke had just started calling him Nobody. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, Nobody, but he listened to Zeke and that was enough. It was just nice to not be alone. And, Zeke figured, the way Nobody was built could come in handy too. If push came to shove, he would definitely help keep Zeke from getting his ass beat, or worse. Most importantly of all, Nobody liked to drink as much and as often as Zeke did. It was the perfect friendship. Speaking of booze, that reminded Zeke of his original train of thought.

Hey, Nobody, you got any whiskey I could bum? I’m dry as a bone over here, pal,