Chapter I

Two children sat inside an old Datsun, nearly all the metal rusted and all the paint peeled. They did not talk -- instead, they took sips from of a cup of coffee that one of them swiped from a nearby Starbucks. Neither likes the taste of coffee, but they are not complaining. It is so rare to get something other than the rust-flavored water from the park water fountains.

Finally, the silence is broken.

"The Preacher Man almost got me today," one of them said. His name is Ken.

"Shit," the other one said. Her name is Patience. "What happened?"

"I've been checking out the churches," Ken said. "They're a good spot to ask for money, y'know? Lots of people feeling sad, they see a kid in dirt and rags, what're they gonna do? Not give him a dollar?"

"Stupid," Patience said. "You know the Preacher Man hangs around churches."

"I know," Ken said, "but I thought it was worth the risk. So I was askin'-"

"Beggin'," Patience interjected.

"Whatever," Ken said. "Same thing. I was there was an old 7-11 cup, asking for money, and even getting some, when suddenly, everyone seems to ignore me. I look 'em in the eye, but they just turn, like they don't wanna look at me. And then a feel a hand on my shoulder. So I turn around and-"

"Let me guess," Patience said, "a man in a gas mask?"

"Nope," Ken said. "He wasn't wearin' no gas mask this time. He just looked like a normal preacher, with the white collar and everything."

"Then how did you know he was the Preacher Man?" Patience asked.

"Well, first, his grip was hurtin' like hell itself," Ken said. "Then, I guess one of the church-goers didn't get the memo about looking away, because they come up all 'Father George, I thought you were dead!'"

"No!" Patience gasped.

"Yep," Ken said. "So the Preacher Man turns to the clueless church-goer, still with me in his grip, and smiles at the guy like he was gonna kill him right there."

"Did he?" Patience asked.

"I dunno," Ken said. "I pulled away from my jacket and ran. That's why I don't have my jacket anymore -- I mean, it was fallin' apart, but it kept me warm."

"Stupid," Patience said. "You were lucky you only lost that. You could've lost a lot more."

"I know," Ken said. "Don't worry, I won't be goin' back there anytime soon."

"You'll need to find another jacket, too," Patience said. "You don't want the Brat to get you."

They continue to sip their stolen coffee and shiver in the rusted Datsun. The night is cold and long and as they wait for the sun to rise, they share their stories, first- and second-hand accounts of the Lonely Hunters.