Sudetenland Tales by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Sudetenland Tales

Page 467

Mandy’s Hollow

Mandy had always been good at making excuses. She told herself she was moving to Alta Monte, Sudetenland because the rent was cheap, because she liked the solitude, because she was tired of the judgmental stares in the congested central city. But deep down, she knew the truth; she was moving closer to her source.

The Hollow wasn’t a place people moved to; it was a place people ended up. The houses leaned like drunks, their roofs sagging under years of neglect. The streets were cracked, weeds clawing their way through the pavement like they were trying to escape. The air smelled of damp wood and regret.

She found a place on the edge, a one bedroom shack with peeling paint and a front door that barely latched. It was perfect. No nosy neighbors, no landlords breathing down her neck. Just her and the quiet.

And the meth.

Her supplier, a wiry brown man named J-Ace, lived two blocks away in a house that looked abandoned except for the flickering light in the basement window. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t care why she was there. He just handed her the baggies and took her money; 50% of which he handed over to his Tren de Aragua “protector.”