Read part one here
Ginger's head spun as she staggered away from the checkout counter.
"Ma'am, are you alright?" The cashier asked her.
Without thinking, Ginger took off running out of the door of the convenience store, the cold can of Coke still clutched in her hand.
"Hey! You still need to pay for that!" The cashier called after her.
But Ginger didn't hear him. Her head was still spinning too hard for her to process anything that was being said to her or anything that was going on in the world around her. All she did was run.
Ginger ran and ran until she saw the first sign of civilization, a small city that she could tell by the signs was on the outskirts of Los Angeles.
Ginger ran until she hit the limits of the nearby town, at which point she found herself nearly passing out from the heat and exhaustion. She noticed the stolen can of Coke still clutched in her hand. She opened it and started drinking. The sweetness soothed her throat.
Once Ginger had achieved a reasonable level of calmness, she decided her best course of action would be to find someone who was friendly enough to ask for help. But as she looked around, she did not see a single approachable face pass her by.
Everyone looked so glum and distracted, staring at the little screens in their hands as they walked glumly along the streets. Ginger didn't know what these little screens were or what fantastical properties they held, but they had to have some kind of horrible power to make these people so miserable looking..
"Hey, I like your dress. Is it vintage?" A female voice from behind Ginger asked.
Startled, Ginger turned around to see a young woman of about her age smiling kindly at her.
Ginger was streetwise enough to know she shouldn't trust just any stranger who approached her with a friendly face and a smile, but she was grateful to have someone who was kind enough to stop and talk to her.
"Oh, um.." Ginger found it difficult to find the right words to say to this girl. There was no way she should tell her that she was a time traveler from 1969. That would get her thrown in the loony bin for sure
"Yeah, it is vintage," Ginger said finally. "It's from the 1960s."
The girls' grin grew wider. "That's awesome! I love the 1960s. That's one of my favorite decades. "Hey, I hope you don't mind me saying this, but I couldn't help but notice that you look a little lost. Is there anything I can do to help you? Do you need directions to get somewhere or something?"
Ginger felt a knot form in her throat. "I... don't know."
And that's when she began to cry.
"Oh, sweetie, everything will be alright." The girl said. "Don't cry. Just follow me. We'll figure something out for you. My name is Chloe, by the way."
Chloe led Ginger to a homeless encampment on the very outskirts of the city. Ginger was shocked and horrified by the state of the people living there.
There were men, women, and even children lying out on their dirty tents and spilling out in the middle of the sidewalk. Mothers with bloodshot eyes, with hands shaking as they bottle fed their babies with half-empty bottles of powdery milk, old men with broken backs and missing limbs, young girls with skinny, emaciated bodies and bruises all over their limbs, looking after dirt-caked young children, no mother or father in sight.
"Home sweet home," Chloe said, opening the flap of her purple tent. "Welcome. Help yourself to anything in the fridge."
Chloe laughed at her own joke as she ducked down and entered the tent. Not knowing what else to do, Ginger did the same.
"What is this place?" Ginger asked as she settled into the tent.
Chloe gave her a strange look. "It's my home. I thought we established that already."
"Do you...choose to live here?" Ginger asked cautiously
Chloe scoffed. "You think anyone chooses to live like this? What planet are you from? We live here because we can't afford a house, food, or medical care. It's brutally expensive to live in Los Angeles. It leaves a lot of people behind. Of course, each and every one of us would rather have a warm bed and a pantry full of food, but that's not happening for us. We don't have the money, and in this country, if you don't have money, you don't have humanity."
Ginger had to take a long moment to process what was being said to her. Back in 1969, she saw a few homeless people pass her on the streets, but nothing like this.
Many of her friends chose a nomadic lifestyle, living off the land in compounds or living out of their vans down by the beach so they could get a taste of the truest freedom. But they always had a backup plan. They had an apartment back in the city, and they were still paying rent on a family they could depend on if things went wrong.
These poor souls didn't have the privilege of having a plan B or someone to turn to for help when they needed it. They were living without a permanent home, not because they chose to, not because they had no other choice.
What kind of world would allow that to happen?
"I'm sorry," Chloe said, interrupting Ginger's train of thought. "I don't think I've caught your name yet."
"It's Ginger," Ginger replied.
"Ginger," Chloe echoed. 'That's really unique. I like it. I've always been drawn to people with unique names. Are you hungry? I think I have a few spare oranges lying around. Do you like oranges?"
It was only then that Ginger noticed the aching in her stomach. She happily accepted the fruit.
To be continued..
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