JC: Harry and Shadow
Chapter 2
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2004

The building rested on pilings three feet off the ground. Around the 
edge of the building, the owner had put a wooden skirt to hide the 
bare underside of the building. In a corner created by a set of stairs 
leading up to the building proper and the wall, a couple of boards 
had been removed. The opening was the entry to Shadow's current 
home.

Shadow liked staying there for one reason and one reason alone. 
That reason was the view that it afforded him. From the little 
opening, he could see up into a window of the building across the 
way. He wasn't sure what kind of business it was, but he could 
occasionally see oriental women walking around topless in the 
window. 

When he had been a kid, he'd heard that oriental women tended to 
be small breasted but the women in that building barely had the 
beginnings of breasts. Despite the small size of their breasts, 
Shadow took a great deal of pleasure in watching them. He had 
lost track of how many times he had jacked off while looking at 
the view.

This was as close to having sex with a woman as he was likely to 
get. His disfigured face chased away everyone. Even whores 
wouldn't take pity on him regardless of how much money he 
offered. His ugliness forced him to live in the dark forgotten areas 
of the city. It was a lonely life and one that he thought to end many 
times. All that kept him alive was the memory of happy days spent 
with Harry. The man had talked to him and treated him like a real 
person. It gave him hope.

Shadow heard the screams and shifted so that he could see what 
was going on. One of the women had burst out of the door and 
almost ran into the dumpster. When she paused to get her bearings, 
an oriental man had come out and thrown her to the ground. For a 
moment he stared at the woman, only then realizing that she was 
probably only fourteen or fifteen years old at most. 

The man had found something on the ground and started whipping 
her with it. Confused, Shadow had no idea what to do. The one 
thing he did know was that it was wrong to hit a young woman like 
that. A loud bang echoed through the alley and caught his 
attention. He stared in shock on discovering Harry standing next to 
dumpster striking it with his shepherd's staff. 

When the man stopped beating the girl to talk to Harry, Shadow 
moved out of his hiding spot thinking that he might be able to help 
the girl. Harry had once helped him and he felt that perhaps this 
was his chance to return the favor. The girl started to move and the 
man grabbed her by the hair forcing her back down. 

Shadow moved closer in the hope of helping when the sound of a 
pistol shot ringing out surprised him. Horrified, Shadow watched 
as Harry fell into a pile of trash near where he was hiding. 
Forgetting completely about the girl, Shadow crawled over to 
Harry to check him out. There was blood, a lot of it, flowing from 
the center of Harry's chest. 

Hidden in the dark, he picked up the old man and carried him out 
of the alley. At the end of the alley, he spotted another homeless 
man and called out, "A guy back there shot Harry."

The word spread like wildfire as Shadow carried Harry on out into 
the street convinced that Harry was dead. When Harry moaned, he 
realized his mistake. The old man was a lot heavier than he looked, 
but Shadow wasn't going to let him go. Holding onto the Druid the 
best that he could, he ran up the street shouting to everyone, "They 
shot Harry." 

Shadow had no idea how far the clinic was from the warehouse 
district or how long it took him to get Harry there. All he 
remembered was bursting into the clinic shouting, "They shot 
Harry. Happy Harry has been shot. Help him."

The effect of his words was as if an explosion had happened. 
Nurses, doctors, and others came from everywhere to take care of 
Harry. It reminded him of ants riled as a result of someone kicking 
over an anthill. In the center of the maelstrom, Shadow stood lost 
and alone as the medical personnel took charge. Once Harry had 
been whisked away, Shadow moved over to a wall and sank down 
in exhaustion as tears ran down his face. 

A nurse nudged his shoulder and said, "Excuse me, but you need to 
get over to the waiting area. This is the middle of the doctors 
station."

Shadow looked up at the nurse and asked, "Harry? Is he going to 
be okay?"

Seeing the tears running down his deformed face, the nurse took 
pity on him. She knelt down and said, "He's in pretty bad shape. 
They're doing what they can to stabilize him and then an 
ambulance will take him over to the hospital."

"Will he be okay?"

"That's for his Gods and Goddesses to decide," answered the nurse 
with a sigh. 

That answer wasn't good enough for Shadow. The man that hurt 
Harry had to pay for his actions. He stood up and said, "I'll be back 
to find out how he's doing."

"You need to stay here to talk to the police," replied the nurse.

"No. There's work to be done and I have to make sure that it is 
done correctly," replied Shadow as he strode to the door with a 
purpose. 

The nurse tried to stop him, but once outside the man disappeared 
into the shadows. She looked around confused and returned inside. 
Concerned about the man's role in Harry's shooting, she called the 
police to let them know that he had left and provided them with a 
description of the man. 

Outside, Shadow made his way back to the warehouse district. 
This time he didn't stick to the shadows but walked down the 
middle of the street. As he went, he called out to all the homeless 
that he saw along the way, "A man shot Harry in the warehouse 
district. Go there."

A crowd of homeless men had gathered in the area, but no one 
knew the details of what had happened to Harry. Shadow went 
from group to group telling them the story about how the oriental 
man had shot Harry. The blood on his clothes gave mute testimony 
to his story. To each group, he said, "We surround the building and 
allow no one in or out. We don't move, we don't speak, and we 
don't break the law. We just watch the building. If Harry dies, then 
every man in that building will die by our hands."

The groups of homeless men and women nodded their heads in 
acknowledgement and agreement. Harry was one of them and to a 
person they all believed that Harry was the best of them. They 
would do their part to make sure that anyone who hurt him paid for 
it. Shadow sent a group out to get more people. 

Going over to another group, he told them, "Keep the police away. 
Block the roads and the sidewalk. Don't move, don't speak, and 
don't break the law. Just don't let the police near here."

After a couple of hours, there were almost a thousand homeless 
people, streetwalkers, and addicts surrounding the building. 
Everyone that was no one had showed up. Shadow was 
everywhere, organizing people and keeping everything under 
control. He didn't care who saw him or what they thought of his 
appearance. The only thing that kept him going was that the man 
who hurt Harry was going to pay for his actions.

It was after midnight when Shadow noticed that a few people were 
moving out of place. He started to make his way over to find out 
what was the matter. Reaching the center of the disturbance, he 
found everyone in the area pointing at him. He went over to 
investigate with the expectation that it would be the police to take 
him away.

Suddenly, he was face to face with a red robed Druid. Frowning, 
he asked, "How's Harry?"

"Harry is over in the bus," answered the Druid. 

Shadow asked, "Is he okay?"

"Yes. We need a distraction."

Shadow thought about what kind of distraction a thousand people 
could provide. He asked, "How about we march on the building?"

"You can march, but don't get any nearer than you are," replied the 
Druid, "since we don't want anyone to get in the way."

"Okay."

Shadow spent ten minutes setting it up. He got a wild idea that they 
would stomp a hundred steps and then they would shout Harry's 
name a hundred times in the same cadence. If that didn't attract 
attention, he didn't know what would.

Standing in the middle of the crowd, as they stomped their feet in 
time with each other, was an amazing experience. It sounded as if a 
giant was approaching and the ground literally shook under his 
feet. When everyone started shouting, it sounded like a giant was 
shouting, "Harry."

When the Druids had done what they were going to do, the word 
spread that they could stop. The man that had hurt Harry was in the 
custody of a Druid and that they would take care of him. As the 
crowd of homeless started to leave, Shadow found that he had little 
to do. 

One of the homeless men handed him a half-empty wine bottle still 
wrapped in the paper bag in which it had been purchased. He said, 
"Finish it. You deserve a drink for all you did."

Left holding a bottle of wine, Shadow decided it was time to return 
to his dark place. He had done all he could for Harry. He returned 
to his hiding spot under the building and watched the few homeless 
people milling around in the alley while sipping wine from the 
bottle. The wine sat heavy on his empty stomach, but he didn't 
care. 

After setting the bottle of wine down, he looked out from his 
hiding spot in time to see Harry exit the building with two oriental 
girls and a woman in a green robe. The other homeless men were 
with them. When the red robed Druid had said that Harry was 
okay, he hadn't realized just how well Harry was doing. The man 
was walking around as if he hadn't been shot. 

Startled to see Harry in such good shape, he knocked over the 
bottle of wine. It rolled into the alley making a lot of noise in the 
quiet that had descended over the warehouse district. He listened in 
surprise as Harry called over his shoulder, "Goodnight Shadow. 
Thanks for everything."

Shadow, shocked at the acknowledgement, didn't answer until long 
after Harry was gone. In a quiet voice, he said, "You're welcome, 
Harry."

**********

An old boxcar, parked on the edge of a junkyard had become home 
for Shadow. The owner of the junkyard, a man nearly as ugly as 
Shadow, had hired him as a night watchman. The pay was bad, the 
hours were horrible, and the work was boring, but it was better 
than having nothing, doing nothing, and sleeping in a storm drain. 
At least he didn't have to work hard to avoid people.

Shadow sat in the door of the boxcar, his legs dangling down and 
swinging, as he prepared his lunch. Pulling the top off a can of 
chicken salad, he sniffed it to check that it was still good. He 
dumped the contents onto a day-old hamburger bun. It wasn't much 
of a meal, but it was better than some meals that he had eaten in 
the past. One of the advantages of working was getting to eat food 
that hadn't come out of a dumpster.

He took a bite of the sandwich and washed it down with a swig of 
his beer. It was hard to believe that beer was cheaper than soft 
drinks in this area. A noise off to his right suggested that a 
customer was working his way through the assorted junk scattered 
around the area. Cursing his luck that he couldn't even enjoy his 
lunch without being interrupted, he scrambled inside the boxcar. 

"Shadow, I know you're in there."

The voice sounded familiar, but Shadow knew that it couldn't be 
him. Curiosity won over his desire to hide. He stuck his head out 
the door and saw his visitor standing a few feet away from the 
boxcar. Emotions battled within as he asked, "What are you doing 
here, Harry?"

"I came here to ask a favor of you," answered the Druid as he 
examined the old boxcar. He ran a hand along the surface of the 
boxcar as though his touch restored the past to him.

"Sure. What can I do for you?" Shadow ducked his head back 
inside the boxcar. It made no sense to make Harry ill by showing 
the man his ugly face. 

"I've got a problem and you're the one that I think can help me with 
it."

"Anything you need Harry. What can I do?"

Smiling at the empty door, Harry shook his head in amazement 
that after all this time Shadow still hid from view. He said, "I'll tell 
you about it as I take you there."

"How long will we be gone?"

"For a couple of months, at least," answered Harry with a smile. 

Shadow paused to consider what Harry was asking him to do. The 
Druid wanted him to give up a job and his home without telling 
him any of the details about what he needed. Still, it was Harry 
doing the asking. It would be nice to travel for a couple of months 
with Harry again. He looked around his current home and started 
to pack up his belongings, meager as they were. "I'll come with 
you."

As Harry started the motor of the roach coach, he said, "Hold on. 
This here beast is about as graceful as a three legged dog humping 
a basketball."

Wedging himself in the back of the truck where Harry couldn't see 
him, Shadow didn't need a reminder of just how bad riding with 
Harry was. After five minutes in the vehicle, he swore that it was 
worse than ever. On one occasion when the truck leaned over, he 
swore Harry could have reached out the window and touched the 
road.

Harry broke the silence when he said, "I really liked your home 
back there. Spent many a day in those in my time. Of course, they 
were moving when I was in them. When they stopped, that was 
when you got into trouble."

Shadow replied, "It was nice enough, but it didn't have a toilet."

"You could have used a thunder pot," remarked the old man. He 
had used many a bucket for that purpose over his lifetime. "Yep. 
Lots of folks get spoiled by flush toilets, but there's nothing wrong 
with a good old-fashioned thunder pot."

Wondering what Harry wanted, Shadow didn't comment on the 
topic of conversation. He sat back waiting for Harry to tell him 
what favor he needed. When Harry didn't say anything right away, 
he said, "You were saying."

Harry said, "You know. There are some folks, in New York, who 
pay over three thousand dollars a month to rent a space about the 
same as that of your boxcar. Can you imagine that? I sure can't; not 
when there is a whole world for you to live in." 

"Are we going to New York?"

"Nah, just up the road here about three miles," answered Harry. 

Three miles up the road put them in the red-light district of town. 
The fact that Harry would have business there didn't surprise 
Shadow. Harry helped people in all parts of town where bums, 
drunks, whores, and addicts lived. He was curious why the Druid 
would need his help in such an area. 

After a minute of silence, Harry said, "People pay all kinds of 
prices to live in one place or another. Some folks will live in 
mansions in the middle of nowhere, preferring to pay lots of 
money for the size of the house and to not have neighbors. Others 
will crowd together like sardines, preferring to pay in a lack of 
privacy rather than in money."

"I suppose so," replied Shadow not quite sure of the point that 
Harry was making.

"Yes sir. You were willing to work for a man to live in a boxcar so 
that you wouldn't have people around that could see you. I guess 
the price you were paying for those living accommodations was 
loneliness."

Shadow didn't say a word about Harry's assessment of his 
situation. There was a lot of truth in his words, but it wasn't a 
question of his willingness to pay that price. That was the price 
imposed upon him by his ugliness.

After a few turns that nearly made Shadow lose his lunch, Harry 
pulled the truck over to the side of the road in front of a little 
wood-framed house. With a smile, Harry said, "We're here."

"I thought you were going to tell me about this favor," said 
Shadow curious about what kind of a situation Harry was getting 
him into.

"Oh, I guess I did say something to that effect," replied the Druid 
with a smile that suggested he had no intention of telling him 
anything until they had reached this location.

"So tell me."

"A young lady had a rather misfortunate accident with a tanning 
lamp. She's become blind and needs someone to take care of her 
until her eyesight returns," said Harry.

Shadow stared at the Druid wondering if he had suddenly gone 
senile. He stuttered for a moment before he was able to say, "Are 
you crazy? Why on earth would you pick me?"

"You don't mind the dark and she's scared of it. You don't like 
people to see you and she can't see. She needs someone to care for 
her and you don't have anything better to do. Sounds perfect to 
me," answered Harry as he opened the door to exit the truck.

It was a frantic Shadow that followed Harry into the house trying 
to talk him out of it. Shadow froze when he saw the young woman, 
nineteen years old, sitting in a chair with bandages over her eyes. 
She was moving her head nervously from side to side trying to 
figure out what was happening. Worried, she called out, "Is that 
you Harry?"

"Yes, Ginger," answered Harry, "it's me. I've brought a guardian to 
watch over you."

"Who is she?"

"It's a he. His name is Shadow," answered the Druid turning 
around to wink at man standing behind him. 

The woman reacted with a puzzled smile and asked, "You got me a 
seeing eye dog?"

"No, Ginger. It's a real live man."

Shadow took a minute to look at the woman. She was wearing blue 
jeans and a T-shirt for some music group. It was hard to tell what 
her body looked like with her sitting in the chair as she was. She 
had long brown hair that had been dyed blond at some point in the 
past, but the hair had grown out so that she had a brown streak 
along her part. The white bandages covered most of her facial 
features. 

Ginger frowned at the news that Harry had brought a man into her 
house. Disturbed, she said, "You brought a man here to take care 
of me. Are you crazy?"

"I asked him the same thing," said Shadow pleased to know that he 
wasn't alone in his assessment of the Druid.

She started at the sound of his voice and turned her head in his 
general direction. It was as though she were trying to look through 
the bandages at him. She said, "Don't give me that bullshit."

Although his companions might see it differently, Harry saw that 
things were progressing exceptionally well, better than he had 
expected. Satisfied, he walked over to the door and said, "Well, I'll 
see you kids later. I'll be back in a month or so."

Shadow felt like he had been sucker punched. He didn't know 
anything about watching over a blind person, much less a blind 
woman. He watched in horror as Harry walked out the door and to 
the truck. 

He called out to the Druid, "You can't leave us here like this!"

Harry waved to him as the truck pulled away leaving the two of 
them behind. Shadow stepped out of the door hoping that this was 
just some kind of joke on Harry's part. He watched hoping the 
truck would stop a little ways down the street and that Harry would 
return to the house. It didn't take long before the truck disappeared 
around a corner and was gone from sight. Shadow looked over 
where the truck had been and saw that his possessions were sitting 
on the curb. 

Stamping his foot on the porch, Shadow swore, "Shit!"

Ginger, unable to see what was going on, asked, "What's 
happening?"

He answered, "He's gone. I can't believe that he did that to me."

"Do it to you? What about me?" asked Ginger. 

The young woman had just cause to be worried. From her 
perspective, her situation was bad and was becoming worse. 
Earlier that day, she had become blind and now she was stuck in a 
house with a total stranger. The only thing that kept her from 
screaming her head off was the fact that the man had been brought 
there by Harry. All the girls on the street knew about Harry and she 
knew he never hurt anyone that didn't deserve harsh treatment.

Shadow looked over at the woman and thought about what Harry 
had done to him. There was no way that he could leave now. If he 
left, the woman would be stuck there alone without anyone to look 
after her. There was no way that he would do that and Harry knew 
it. 

He went out to the street and picked up his stuff from the curb 
knowing that if he left it there for long it would disappear. 
Returning to the house, he sat down in a chair and looked at Ginger 
with a frown on his face. She was twisting around trying to 
understand what was happening. Her actions reminded him of how 
helpless she was. Less than happy with his situation, he said, 
"Harry left."

"So now that you're alone with me, what happens next?" asked 
Ginger afraid that she knew what the answer was going to be. This 
guy could rape her for the next month and no one would know. She 
tensed expecting to feel his hands on her body.

"I don't know. I'm stuck here with you."

"I'm the one that's stuck here," grumbled Ginger. She knew men 
far better than most women. As an exotic dancer, she saw the 
hunger with which men looked at women. She knew men couldn't 
keep their hands to themselves. Stuck in the house with a man only 
meant that it wouldn't be long before he started touching her.

"Why do you think I'm stuck here? I can't leave you alone and 
helpless."

His comment made her feel a little better, but the silence that 
settled in the room unnerved her. Not being able to see made her 
feel very vulnerable. Not knowing what Shadow was doing feed 
her imagination. For all she knew, he was leering at her and 
undressing her with his eyes. 

"What are you doing?"

"I'm thinking. Is there anyone that we can call on to watch over 
you?" asked Shadow.

"No, there's no one." 

Ginger had family; her mother and stepfather were still alive. They 
were half the reason she was in this bind. The woman who gave 
birth to her was a religious fanatic. She felt that all problems could 
be solved through prayer, hard work, and physical punishment. If a 
wife gave her husband problems, she deserved the whipping she 
received. If a daughter gave the mother problems, then a whipping 
was just punishment.

Her stepfather gave lip service to religion, but preferred to use 
religion to his advantage. Honor your mother and father translated 
into thou shalt have sex with your stepfather without complaining. 
Take it in the ass and thank him for giving it to you. Complaining 
to the mother only brought additional punishment upon her.

"Damn," replied Shadow. 

Ginger said, "You don't seem very happy at watching over me."

The ugly man had no idea what he was supposed to do with this 
woman. Could she eat by herself? Feeding her wouldn't be that 
tough. What if she needed him to help her dress? That would be 
tough to do without getting excited. Was he going to have to help 
her go to the bathroom? The idea disgusted him. The only up side 
of this entire situation was that she couldn't see him and he didn't 
need to hide his face from her.

"It's not that. I've got no idea what I'm supposed to do. I'm not a 
nurse or anything like that."

"I'm blind, not ill," replied Ginger.

*******

Ginger took a sip of her after dinner coffee and set the cup down 
while keeping a finger on the cup. She said, "That's a good cup of 
coffee."

"It's hard to ruin coffee," countered Shadow.

The ugly man took a sip of his cup of coffee as he considered 
living in a real house for the first time since he left his parent's 
place years earlier. It was a lot more work since he had to keep it 
clean rather than just move when too much trash accumulated. 
With Ginger being blind, it was important to keep things off the 
floor. She had already tripped over a bra that had fallen to the 
floor. 

"So how is it that you can come and stay with me for an 
unspecified time?" asked Ginger. 

"Simple," Shadow answered, "I live on the street and don't have 
any where else that I need to be."

Ginger hadn't realized that Shadow was homeless although it was 
the kind of thing that Harry would do. He'd been there for a couple 
of hours now and hadn't done anything strange, so her curiosity 
was roused. She asked, "Why are you living on the streets?"

The question that he didn't want to answer had been asked. He 
could lie to her and get away with it since she was blind. She 
would never know the truth, but that wouldn't be right. He 
answered, "I'm ugly."

"You're ugly?"

"Yes, I'm very ugly," answered Shadow moving as he spoke into a 
dark corner of the room.

The answer didn't make sense to Ginger. Most of her audience at 
the strip club was ugly. She had men grabbing at her naked body 
that were fat, bald, hair-lipped, scruffy, smelly, and probably 
diseased. That hadn't put them on the street. Some of them even 
thought they were good looking. She said, "I don't understand."

"I'm a monster. People can't look at me. I can't get a job."

"You might be ugly, but so are a lot of people and they work," 
countered Ginger. Even in her business there were a lot of strippers 
that weren't all that attractive. They didn't make much money, but 
it was more than they could make as a checkout girl in a discount 
store. 

"Take half of a face, turn it purple, puff it up, and add some 
growths to it here and there. Imagine that the other half of the face 
is pale white. Mix in a little beard and that's what I look like. I'm 
probably the ugliest man alive," stated Shadow as though it were 
some great truth. 

She couldn't imagine anyone looking like what he described, but 
was smart enough not to argue. People had their own views of 
themselves. She'd seen strippers with tits so huge that the weight of 
them hurt their backs. Still, she'd heard them complain that their 
breasts were too small. There were tons of skinny women that 
thought of themselves as too fat and died as a result of their 
attempts to lose more weight. She thought it odd that people could 
starve to death surrounded by food.

"Why did you leave home?"

Hearing the second worst question that he could be asked, Shadow 
sighed. There wasn't a nice answer to it. He answered, "My mother 
thought she was the reason that I was born ugly. She felt that 
somewhere on this planet was a person that could turn her ugly 
duckling son into a swan prince."

"What's wrong with that?"

"The rest of my family hated me because of it. My brother and 
sister didn't get presents on Christmas or for their birthdays. My 
dad couldn't even drink a beer during the Super Bowl game. My 
mother spent every penny that my dad made on every doctor, faith 
healer, and other quack that came to her notice. We flew from 
expert to expert so much that I had my own frequent flyer card 
when I was eight," answered Shadow.

There was so much anger in his voice that it shocked Ginger. She 
sat quiet, considering what he had said.

There was no way that Shadow could forget or forgive the looks he 
used to get from his brother and sister when he would return from 
another trip to a quack. They blamed him because he was the ugly 
one that got all of mother's attention. They blamed him when his 
mother pawned the television set so that she could take him to a 
healer in Mexico. The blame turned to hate over time. Try 
explaining to a seven-year-old kid that they didn't get a toy for 
their birthday because the ugly kid had to see a doctor.

The day came when the family went crazy. It started with an 
argument with his sister about some subject that he couldn't even 
remember. His brother stepped in and started swinging. Once that 
boundary had been crossed, the brother couldn't stop and continued 
as if he was going to kill Shadow. His father watched without 
saying a word and even tried to prevent his mother from 
interfering, but nobody could stop his mother from protecting the 
ugly one.

Shadow wasn't stupid. He knew that once the venom started to 
poison the family it would never end. One day, his mother 
wouldn't be there and that would be the end of Shadow. He left the 
house right after the beating, never to return. A fifteen-year-old 
kid, bruised and battered, hit the streets with nothing but the 
clothes on his back hoping only to survive.

He knew he was ugly, but didn't realize the full consequences of 
that fact. People shied away from him. Managers of businesses 
wouldn't hire him because he was too young and too ugly. He 
couldn't even suck cock for a living because no man wanted a 
diseased looking face anywhere within reach of his cock. Survival 
through criminal means was not possible since his appearance was 
too unique to be able to hide from the law.

"Everyone in my family hated me, except my mother and she was 
killing me with her love," said Shadow.

"Maybe now that they are older, they'll understand," commented 
Ginger. Even as she said it, she didn't believe it. Norman Rockwell 
was a liar and painted a world that didn't exist. Families didn't sit 
nicely around a turkey dinner discussing all that they were thankful 
for; they fought and threatened each other with the carving knife.

"Maybe they'll understand, but I'm not sure that I do," replied 
Shadow.

His mother, in trying to get him cured, had reinforced the idea that 
he was ugly with every word and gesture that she made. The rest of 
the family accepted that and re-enforced the idea. What else could 
he do but accept his families judgement? For that, he couldn't 
forgive them. 

He said, "I can never forgive them."

Ginger was quiet as she contemplated what he had said. There was 
no way that she could forgive her mother and stepfather. To expect 
him to do it was the ultimate in hypocrisy. After a minute, she said, 
"I'm not sure that you should."