Outlive (The Baggers Trilogy, #1) by Chad Leito Page B

Baggs awoke just enough to be conscious of his surroundings, but didn’t feel like opening his eyes yet. There was a clack clack clack noise close to his head and in his stupor he thought that either Maggie or Olive must be banging something against the walls of their apartment. But then the clack clack clack noise came closer to his face and he opened his eyes, alarmed.
                  Instead of the cracked, paint-chipped wall of his bedroom, he was looking at the stretching mass of buildings that was London, painted orange by the dawn sunlight. He slowly realized where he was, and a pang went through his chest. I’m not at my apartment. I’ll never be at my apartment again. He realized what was making the clack clack clack sound just before he got kicked in the stomach.
                  Boots.
                  The one furthest from Baggs reared back and slammed into his upper abdomen, causing him to cough and turn over, losing his breath.
                  “Ye’ can’t sleep here! Git! Git!” said an angry female voice. Baggs opened his mouth to explain that he wasn’t a vagrant and was waiting here to sign up for Outlive, but found that he still couldn’t talk. His diaphragm was contracted and he couldn’t draw in air. Another boot came up and kicked him in the chest. He rolled over and saw a female police officer standing over him. Her eyes were covered by reflective glasses. She had an assault rifle strapped around her shoulders and was holding the handle. “I said, ‘git!’”
                  Baggs slowly got to his knees and put his hands up to show that he meant no harm. Behind him, business men and women were going into the front of the Media Tower, wearing suits and looking over their shoulders at the homeless man having a confrontation with the police. “Don’t kick me again,” Baggs said.
                  “Git!”
                  “I need to go inside. I’ve got business here.”
                  “Business, eh? You’re barefoot and you say you’ve got business in the Media Tower? Git! This ain’t your home!”
                  Barefoot? Baggs thought. He was still groggy from sleep. He looked down and was surprised to find that the officer was right—he was barefoot. He cursed loudly. “Someone stole my shoes!” He stood and looked about as though they must be lying around. How could they have taken them off of me without waking me up? They took my socks, too!
                  “Rubish ain’t supposed to sleep on the front door of the Media Tower. I’m warning you, you better git!” The woman put the back of the rifle against her shoulder, but kept it pointed towards the ground.
                  “Hold on, hold on! Just give me a second to find my shoes. I’ve got to go to the Media Tower, I’ve got actual business here.”
                  Now, she pointed the barrel at Baggs and grabbed his full attention. “Either tell me precisely what business you’ve got at the Media Tower, walk of the premises, or I’ll make you git off!” She talked through gritted yellow teeth.
                  “I’m here to enter Outlive.”
                  “Outlive?”
                  “Yeah, like on the HoloVision Box.”
                  “I know what it is, but you don’t enter this way. Didn’t you see the sign? It’s on the street; it says you’re supposed to report around the corner. C’mon, I’ll show you.”
                  She lowered the gun and began to trot down the stairs. Baggs walked behind her, the stone cold on his bare feet. He thought about how it was odd that there were police available to make sure that no homeless men were eye-sores on the steps of business buildings, but there weren’t any available to see that eleven year old little girls weren’t whoring themselves out