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BENNY 7-11 DIDN’T MANAGE to get a bead on Kenny Flak Jacket until the afternoon sunshine was a distant memory. The Belmont Tunnel encampment was devoid of the small campfires and barrels that usually speckled the overgrown grasses and dirt of the abandoned railway. High risk fire warning in the hills put the LAPD and fire marshals on alert, causing the nightly residents to choose being cold over inviting the unwanted attention. A plastic flashlight Benny had picked up at the 99-cent store lit the faces hiding in the shadows. It was cheap and would hardly provide enough light for his purposes, but would be a treasured trinket for Betsy Over/Under if she resisted his advances the next time he wanted access to the fetid flower between her legs.
“You seen Flak Jacket tonight?” B
