You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

Chapter 85 Hungry (3k)

Before Leon could finish his sentence, the door to the stairwell at the end of the corridor was pushed open.

"Crunch!"

Two short figures came down from upstairs.

Those were two children dressed in cheap Halloween costumes made of inferior plastic.

The slightly older one was about seven or eight years old, wearing a wrinkled black cloak and a faded vampire mask.

The slightly younger one, about four or five years old, was wearing an ill-fitting Spider-Man bodysuit; the fabric was already pilling a bit.

The two men each held a cloth bag in their hands, which contained a few cheap hard candies.

Seeing the commotion in the corridor, the two children stopped in their tracks.

The seven- or eight-year-old was obviously a little more sensible. When he saw a tall man pinning another person to the ground, with a pile of food scraps scattered on the ground, his first reaction was to grab his younger brother's hand and try to turn around and run upstairs.

Children growing up in such communities learn their first lesson: avoiding conflict.

However, the four or five-year-old Spider-Man stood still and instead grabbed his older brother's hand tightly.

His eyes were fixed on the fried chicken nuggets that had rolled on the ground and the buttery bisky that smelled so tempting.

"Gulp."

In the quiet corridor, you could even hear the little kid swallowing.

Leon sighed, shifting his gaze from the homeless man still gasping for breath to the two children.

He knew the two little ones.

It wasn't because he had a good habit of remembering every neighbor in the community, but mainly because when he went to Reverend Anderson's place every now and then to do charity work and maintain his image, these two kids were often at the front of the line to receive relief bread.

It seems to be called Tommy Jimmy?

In a single-parent family, the mother rests during the day and works odd jobs, while working the night shift at a laundry, often leaving them locked at home.

"Those two unlucky kids."

Lyon frowned as he looked at their thin clothes.

These clothes are too stuffy to wear in summer, but in today's awful weather with its drop in temperature and freezing rain, they provide absolutely no warmth. They're cold in winter and hot in summer.

Seattle's air humidity is already high, and even if you're not in the rain in the hallway, the damp chill seeps into your bones and makes you shiver.

And judging from the way that little Spider-Man stared at the fried chicken, it didn't just seem like he was craving it; he was probably really hungry.

In this weather, going out hungry and knocking on doors asking for candy? Isn't that just asking for trouble?

"Damn it."

"Tommy? And Jimmy, right?"

Leon sighed, ignoring the homeless man on the ground who was still drooling over the fried chicken, and gestured with his chin toward the two kids at the bottom of the stairs.

"In this awful weather with freezing rain, what are you two doing wandering around the hallway on empty stomachs without even wearing a decent coat? Where's your mother?"

Hearing Lyon call out their names, seven- or eight-year-old Tommy relaxed his guard a little.

He pulled his younger brother behind him, his little face turning blue from the cold, and his voice sounded timid: "Mom won't be back until tomorrow morning."

"We're out of food. My mom went to the supermarket yesterday, and the cashier said our SNAP food stamp account was empty and frozen."

"My mom works the night shift these days, and she also washes dishes at a restaurant during the day, but she has to pay the rent with the money she earns first, otherwise the apartment manager will kick us out."

"We only shared one piece of hard bread all day, and Jimmy kept saying he was hungry. I thought since it's Halloween, maybe we could try our luck and see if we could get some candy to fill our stomachs."

Lyon listened, his brow furrowing in a frown.

Food stamps have been suspended.

He probably knows some background information about this matter.

Since the recent election, the federal government has spared no effort in cutting spending.

Welfare programs targeting the poorest populations were the first to be targeted for cuts.

Raising application thresholds, increasing the review of work requirements, and reducing the amount of funds disbursed—

This series of actions left families like Tommy's without food.

"Have you tried going to Pastor Anderson's church to receive relief?"

Lyon patiently asked, "I remember there was a charity event at the church this afternoon. Aren't you usually at the front of the line?"

Tommy shook his head and sniffled the snot that had come out of his nose.

"We went, but we were too late and didn't receive anything."

"The pastor said that fewer people are donating recently, the city hall has cut funding to the community, and the amount of supplies being delivered is less than half of what it used to be."

"The community food bank was even more outrageous. The line was twice as long as usual. We went twice, and by the time it was our turn, there wasn't even any moldy bread left in the basket."

As Lyon listened, a surge of anger welled up inside him.

It's just another one of Anderson's old charlatan's lies.

The relief mechanism of community churches in the United States is essentially a business.

The pastor took donations from the wealthy and corporations to buy tax-free supplies, then took photos for publicity while distributing relief, in order to obtain more federal funding.

Now that the policies from above are stricter and funding is harder to obtain, Anderson naturally won't buy anything nice anymore.

He would only use the limited, good supplies to make a show of things, leaving the rest of the inferior and rotten items for the homeless to scavenge.

As for the single-parent children who couldn't get a spot? That's not within his KPI assessment scope.

Lyon turned around and looked at the white homeless man lying on the ground.

In just a few words, the guy who was groaning on the ground just moments before had completely ignored the dust and mud on the carpet, grabbed the biggest fried chicken leg, and stuffed it into his mouth.

He chewed so fast and fiercely that he almost crushed the bones, choking until his eyes rolled back, but he refused to spit them out no matter what.

"You went too?"

Looking at him, who looked like a starving ghost, Lyon frowned and asked a question.

The homeless man finally managed to swallow the chicken in his mouth, his chest heaving violently. He nodded between breaths and said, "I went—I went this afternoon."

He licked the oil off his fingers, his voice hoarse: "But when it was my turn, there was nothing left to eat directly. All that was left was dried pasta, dried beans that would give you diarrhea if you ate them undercooked, and those canned goods that needed a can opener and had to be cooked."

"Even my tent was stolen, where am I supposed to find a kitchen, a can opener, and a gas stove to cook?"

"I'm so sorry, sir. I really have no other choice. I haven't had a proper meal in days."

"I had nowhere else to stay, so I ended up in this apartment building. It's freezing raining outside, and if I don't find a warm place to hide, I'll definitely freeze to death on the street tonight."

"I was so hungry I couldn't control myself when I smelled it—I'm so sorry."

Lyon gave the man a careful look.

He doesn't look very old, probably in his early forties.

Although he was filthy and his hair was matted, his nails were neatly trimmed. Judging from his facial features and the condition of his teeth, he didn't seem like the kind of old hand who had spent years in the underworld and whose brain had been damaged by drugs.

He spoke with clear logic, and there was a sense of shame in his eyes.

He is most likely a newly homeless person who has recently gone bankrupt and ended up on the streets due to unemployment or illness.

"Alright, go ahead and eat."

Leon waved his hand, too lazy to pursue the charge of robbing fried chicken any further.

He withdrew his gaze and turned to look at the Mexican deliveryman who was still standing there dumbfounded.

Old Mo was holding the tattered paper bag, looking flustered.

This is a generous customer who gave a twenty-dollar tip!

Now, not only has his food been stolen, but customers have also come out to fight him. If he gives a bad review and complains to the platform, all the work he's done these past few days will have been for nothing.

"Señor! I'm so sorry! It's all my fault!"

Old Mo quickly bowed and apologized, sweating profusely: "I'll contact the platform right away to refund you! Or—or I'll go to that store and buy you a new one to send over! Please don't be angry!"

"Alright, this is none of your business."

Leon waved his hand, looking at the old man's yellow reflective raincoat, soaked through and still dripping wet, and couldn't help but ask, "And you? What's your situation?"

"In this awful weather with freezing rain, even homeless people know to hide, and you're still out there delivering food?"

"Aren't you eligible to receive welfare?"

Old Mo paused for a moment, then forced a bitter smile onto his face.

"I'd like to go too, sir."

He looked down at his waterproof boots, which were already coming unglued. "I wanted to go and line up for the free bread too. But—my eldest daughter has severe asthma, and with the recent drop in temperature, her inhaler ran out, and that damn cheap health insurance doesn't cover that medication at all."

"Going to queue for relief takes three or four hours. I can't compete with those professionals living in tents; they have all the time to waste there. I'd rather use that time to make a couple more deliveries."

"In such severe weather, the platform's subsidies are higher, and some kind customers also give more tips."

As Lyon listened, the sense of absurdity in his heart grew stronger.

What the hell is going on here?

People with hands and feet and jobs dare not queue for welfare because of their meager wages, and can only deliver food on an empty stomach.

A homeless man who was unemployed went to queue up, but ended up bringing back a bunch of raw food that he couldn't eat, so he had to steal other people's takeout.

Just as Lao Mo was speaking, the stairwell door in the corridor was pushed open again.

Two more children dressed in cheap Halloween costumes passed by this floor.

One was wearing a cheap Batman mask, and the other was dressed as a ghost, draped in a tattered bed sheet. Both of them had purple lips from the cold, and the plastic buckets of pumpkins they were carrying were empty.

Seeing the group of people standing on Lyon's side, the two children huddled against the wall in fear, but their eyes couldn't help but dart towards the pile of dusty fried chicken on the ground.

Exactly the same as Tommy and Jimmy from before.

Hungry. Cold. Despair.

"Hold!"

Lyon finally couldn't hold back any longer; a nameless rage surged to his head.

What the hell is this?

Just now in the slums, that guy Big T, wearing a pink apron, was under the awning giving the poor people in the community hot grilled ribs and candy. Even if it was just to win people over, at least he put some meat in their mouths.

As a result, I arrived at the normal community where I was supposedly safer and more civilized.

Children from single-parent families are so hungry that they have to go out begging for food in the freezing rain; bankrupt white people have to rob takeout restaurants; hardworking Latino fathers don't even have time to queue for welfare to buy medicine, and they even fight over a few pieces of fried chicken.

This is even worse than that street in Big T!

It's absolutely rotten!