Shelter: Chapter 1

   Teresa Lisbon stepped into the shelter with a feeling of trepidation writhing in her gut. She could tell that today was going to be a long one, one way or another. The smell of fresh soup and pancakes greeted her nostrils as it wafted from the kitchen and wound its way through the communal sleeping area. She could tell by looking at the mattresses that it had been a quiet night, but those who had slept there were clearly awake and probably eating now. Blankets and thin duvets had been thrown haphazardly on the floor, and drag lines next to the mattresses spoke of bags being grabbed and flung over shoulders on the way to the small canteen. The kids who stayed here were protective of their possessions and refused to leave them lying around unattended. Living rough bred those kinds of habits. With a small sigh she made her way towards the kitchen to see what help she could provide there.
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    An older, balding man stood over the hob, steam rising as he cooked breakfast for the shelter. Though with all the pots and pans bubbling and spitting it looked more like he was trying to feed a small army,
"Morning, Virgil." Teresa called, stepping across the threshold, "Need a hand?" Virgil span to face her, a spatula in his left hand and a ladle in his right,
"Teresa!" He replied brightly, a hint of surprise in his voice, "Good morning. I wasn't expecting you in today." She quirked her eyebrow at him and walked further into the room,
"Really, Virgil?" She asked incredulously, "We both know you were expecting me back, you were just hoping I'd take some time for once." He held his utensil-clad hands up in mock surrender,
"You got me. Guilty as charged." He responded jokingly, "But really, Teresa –"
"Kids we take care of die all the time, Virgil." She stated matter-of-factly as she grabbed the ladle from him and set to work dishing out some of the soup her colleague had been making,
"I know they do, Teresa." He told her sympathetically, "But you and Sam were close." She shrugged,
"We knew he was ill. I was prepared." She countered, refusing to meet her colleague's eyes as she continued to dish out the soup. He shook his head sadly,
"Not as prepared as you like to think." Teresa bit her lip. She could feel her resolve slipping, tears threatening to burst through the dam she had built up,
"I... I just need to work, Virgil." She half-muttered, "I need to help the ones that can be saved." The older man let out a sigh. She reminded him of himself when he was younger,
"I know, Teresa... just remember that I'm always here if you need to talk." His efforts were rewarded with a small smile,
"I know, Virgil. Thank you." She replied gratefully. Grabbing some of the soup-filled dishes she made her way out. Just before the door she paused, "By the way, Virgil, I meant to ask..."
"Hm?" He looked at her expectantly, watching as a smirk emerged on her face,
"Are you feeding the five thousand, or was it four giants sleeping on those mattresses last night?" The two of them chuckled as Teresa left for the canteen and Virgil turned back to his cooking, a smile still playing about his lips.
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    "Morning, guys." Teresa smiled upon entering the dining area, "I've got some of Virgil's best soup for you." The four teens situated at various tables around the room looked up,
"Finally!" A brunette girl piped up enthusiastically. Teresa laughed as she set the soup out,
"He been torturing you all with the smell again, Carrie?" She asked with a small smirk,
"Has he ever." Carrie replied grabbing a spoon and pulling her bowl towards her, "We've been sittin' here for ages. Our stomachs were growlin' louder than a Grizzly!"
"Well in that case," Teresa said to the young girl, "you better tuck in. Besides, there's enough soup in that kitchen to feed an army." She cast a glance back to the door where she saw Virgil emerging with a plate piled with pancakes, "He thinks he's feeding the five thousand." She said raising her voice,
"I heard that!" Next to her Carrie suppressed a giggle,
"You were supposed to." Teresa told him with a smile. Virgil rolled his eyes at her and set the pancakes down on one of the centre tables,
"You're a bad influence on these children, Teresa Lisbon." He joked with an exaggerated shake of his head,
"I'm not the one torturing them with the smell of my cooking." She shot back, the smirk still firmly in place,
"Good job too. You couldn't cook your way out of a paper bag." Her colleague countered, "They'd all be choking on the fumes." Snorts of laughter filled the room and the two shelter volunteers looked at each other before they too fell about laughing.
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   It wasn't until after breakfast, when everyone began clearing the plates, dishes and cutlery away, that any of them spoke again. Teresa was on her way back into the canteen after depositing a small pile of plates on the work surface of the kitchen when Carrie, the young brunette, stopped her,
"Miss Lisbon, I'm sorry about Sam." The teenager said softly, "He was a nice guy... I liked him."
"T-thank you, Carrie." Teresa stuttered, "I... he was a good kid." Carrie shifted on the spot nervously,
"I... I drew this for him..." She mumbled sifting through her worn backpack and producing a slightly crumpled piece of sketch paper, "but I want you to have it..." The shelter volunteer took the piece of paper and let her eyes soak up the image. Tears gathered in her eyes at Carrie's drawing. It was so beautiful, so lifelike, "I know he really liked you... but if you don't like it -" Teresa shook her head,
"No, Carrie, this is beautiful... I love it." She said softly, holding the sketch of her and Sam to her chest. The brunette's eyes sparkled with happiness, "Thank you. Sam would have adored it."
"You think so?" Teresa smiled,
"Think so?" She asked, "I know so... where did you learn to draw like this, Carrie? It's incredible." Carrie blushed,
"I taught myself." She mumbled, "I got offered an Art scholarship for the summer... to help me learn more."
"Carrie, that's fantastic!" Teresa grinned embracing the teenager, "Congratulations."
"Thanks, Miss Lisbon." Carrie smiled nervously back,
"How many times have I told you to call me Teresa?"
"Sorry, Teresa." The shelter volunteer laughed lightly at the teenager's embarrassment,
"It's okay, Carrie. Just remember it for next time, okay?" Carrie nodded and let out a small murmur of agreement, "Good. Now don't you have some amazing artwork to get back to?" The teenager blushed slightly and smiled,
"Thanks, Teresa." With that the young brunette pulled her backpack on and headed back towards the canteen. Teresa watched as she left and took another long look at the sketch. Sam really would have loved this.
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    Teresa was glad for the quiet start to the day; she wasn't sure how well she could deal with a hectic teen-filled shelter when her mind was still reeling from the loss of Sam. But she knew the serenity of the morning couldn't last. The shelter rarely remained quiet for long. Right on cue the voice of Madeline Hightower carried into the building,
"Virgil! Teresa!" The panic was clear in her voice and was more than enough to send both volunteers running to the source.
    When they reached her Madeline was gently lowering the shaking form of a teen onto one of the mattresses,
"Shh, now." She said softly, "Shh, it's okay. You're going to be okay."
"Madeline, what happened?" Virgil asked as he rushed over, Teresa close behind him. The concern was clear on both their faces,
"A bunch of gang kids were beating him up." Madeline replied shakily, "From what I saw he fought back, but he was outnumbered by a long way." Teresa knelt down next to the mattress and tenderly stroked a thumb over the boy's forehead,
"He should be in a hospital, Madeline." She told her colleague softly,
"I know, Teresa. He wouldn't let me call an ambulance." The coloured woman responded, "That was the one thing he told me. No hospital." Virgil sighed next to her,
"Then we better help him the best we can. Come on, Madeline; let's go get the first aid kit." He replied guiding her away with a hand on her arm and leaving their colleague alone with the boy. Teresa gripped the cross hanging around her neck. What did you ever do to deserve this?