A Vagrant Story (10 page)

“Or we can run around the hospital again, we’d be a lot faster,” Rum said, idling his way down the stairs.

Alex followed closely behind, stopping in wait for Sierra. “You coming?”

She stood staring into the note as if trying to solve a puzzle. “I … could have sworn that was our guy. I … are you sure about this, Alex?”

“Don’t let it get to you. Hurry up or Rum will wander off and get lost.”

There was little else to do except check at reception again. With any luck the clerk from earlier had been replaced by a more tolerant employee. Any hope for it became immediately squashed upon entering the reception area. Not only was the same receptionist still there, but a new bustle of people jammed the hall near wall to wall. The only sign of a queue was the horizontally moving streak of people jammed together in the centre. The receptionist herself fretted over her keyboard, typing near non-stop. Rum spared a moment to laugh at her misfortune before deciding to speak.

“What is this, the Christmas rush?” he said. “It’ll be night before we get through this line.”

From somewhere in the crowd a familiar voice started calling for Sierra and Alex. It came in the direction of the main entrance. It sounded like Henry, and from the brief glances they caught of him jumping up and down to grab their attention, it looked like him too. After stumbling his way through the bustle Henry came falling out the other side.

“They let you out already?” Alex asked.

“Yeah … sort of,” Henry replied.

“I get it,” Rum said. “The doctor wouldn’t let you leave so you decided to sneak out. And check it out, looks like the rebel Henry robbed some fancy new clothes before taking off too.”

“Well actually one of the doctors gave them to me since my old ones got damaged in the fire.”

Sierra eyed Henry warily. “Okay so … why did you come in from the main door?”

“I didn’t want anyone catching me so I thought it better to wait for you guys outside.” Henry laughed awkwardly. “What’s with all the questions anyway? Drop it already. So what are going to do now? I think we should leave.”

That was enough to get them going. With Rum leading, they pushed through the remainder of the crowd until arriving back outside. When free, Rum halted like a captain relaying orders.

“First order of business: we get the hell away from this place. Secondly, we have no idea what to do next.”

“Shouldn’t we start looking for the shop from the note again?” Henry suggested.

“Yeah about that,” Rum replied. “Blondie has something funny to tell you. You’ll love it - it’s a story that involves me being right and her being wrong.”

Sierra scowled. “Don’t call me Blondie, prick.”  

Chapter 6

The tramps continued their search in an idle sort of way, dawdling along a sidewalk checking directories and signs. They didn’t need to rush, mostly because they weren’t sure what they’d be rushing to find. Besides, day was fading fast and the wavering light lulled their spirits as a night lamp would a child.

Henry broke into a brief coughing fit induced by exhaust smoke from all the cars on the main road beside them. The fumes merged with one another, foaming over curbs to the sidewalk. Today the road bore thrice the average number of cars. Christmas should always be busy but that wasn‘t the reason for the clog. In this case a snow plough was clearing the road, simultaneously forging a traffic jam in its rear.

Forcing those coughs down, Henry ran to catch up with the others. “So … Sierra read the name wrong. That wasn’t the right shop.”

“I read it wrong, but that shop had the same name. That’s pretty strange when you think about it. I suppose … if destiny led me to find the suicide note, then it makes sense the whole thing could have been fate as well.”

“It was still the wrong place. I think if there’s some divine purpose in all this, God should double check his sights,” Henry added.

“Here we go with that fate crap again. Blondie’s just making excuses for getting the name wrong. There ain’t no fate in this, Henry did all that for nothing. Guess you’ll think again before launching yourself into a burning building again. And having Alex bail you out after.”

“I think, maybe I would have done it anyway,” Henry said.

“Don’t listen to that old quack,” Sierra said. “Henry, whether it was the right place or not, what you did back there was still pretty brave.”

“Pretty stupid more like.”

“Shut up, Rum,” Sierra scolded. “You too Alex, you saved a man yesterday, both of you did. It would have been nice to find out who he was, even if it wasn’t the right guy.”

“Of course Alex went in there, he’s a suicide waiting to happen. You wanted to die didn’t you? That’s why you went in there. Oh, but at least you knew what you were doing.” Rum pointed and waved his fist at Henry. “You on the other hand, that was just stupid! You can’t walk down the street without running out of breath! You really thought you could do something to help? You’re all just stupid.”

Old Rum stormed on ahead. Henry simply eased his head down to hide disappointment.

“Wow. It’s like he actually cares,” Sierra said.

“You can tell?” Alex asked.

“It took a while, but yeah.”

The three of them watched on at the wise old man, who stumbled on in front a little bit. He stopped beside an open bin after something caught his eye. Plundering its contents, he pulled out a glass bottle.  Slugging it back, he spoke back to them:

“Whiskey. Nice.”

To the average person the act might seem distasteful, but it really was a fringe form of consumer savings. That is, unless it turned out to be the wrong kind of yellow liquid. 

Sierra caught up to him and took the bottle with good intentions, much to Rum’s displeasure. He shrugged it off as though he’d taken his fill, or intended to retake it later, one way or the other.

Car horns honked along the stretch. Impatient drivers were taking definitive action against the dreaded snowplough, shouting insults and waving fists. Few of them seemed to realise if the snow plough moved aside there’d be too much snow to travel. 

“I hate motorists,” Alex said. “Cars are too much hassle.”

“How unusual,” Sierra said, “a writer who happens to be lazy and a know it all.”

Alex motioned to counter with a quip of his own, but froze for an interruption.

A crash sounded. Two nearby cars collided with one another. It looked like a rear hit, from bumper to bonnet. A few surrounding drivers got out to stare mindlessly at the scene, along with pedestrians on the sidewalk. Sierra and Rum pushed through the gathering crowd so they could see as well.

Gags of coughing sounded from the struck vehicle. Through a haze of smoke, a woman climbed from her car and fell to the ground. She screamed on landing, cradling her chest for an invisible lesion. She bled from her head and a little from the mouth. But there was no greater wound to be seen.

The motorist who crashed into her tried easing suffering with apologetic words. He scampered above her, ineptly calling for someone who could help. He made an attempt to rest her against the car, but jerked away as though dropping hot coal. She looked pregnant. At once his cries for help grew louder.

In time a voice answered. A man came hurdling immobile cars until landing by their side. From the way he asked questions and clutched a small medical pack he seemed to be a doctor. His stereotypical white clothes added leverage to the observation.

“It’s okay, I’m a doctor,” he said to the pregnant woman, loud enough for all to hear.

The moment he touched her she convulsed into a fit. It might have been the fear, the amount of blood, or a blow to her head causing it. She shook tremendously so she came close to rolling over.

“Damn,” the doctor said. “I can’t do anything like this.”

The other driver peered down. “Should someone hold her steady?”

“No. She obviously has some kind of internal injury. We can’t put pressure on it. We need her to calm down. In this state she’ll only injure her child.”

Sierra watched on, nibbling on her thumb like a substitute for popcorn. “Poor woman … Poor baby. I hope she gets better.”

Henry stood with a thoughtful frown. A slowly ticking timer counted down in his head. He might have an answer. He thought he had an answer. He could help. Slipping hands into pockets, he took out the medication he received earlier. One pill remained.

He presented it to the doctor. “Would this help?”

On his knees, the doctor gazed at the pill case like a gun to his head. He stopped in his work as though nothing was there.

The doctor took the pill case, pouring it to his hand. “Those are … Where did you get these? Did a doctor give you this?”

Henry nodded, unsure of himself. “When I was in hospital.”

“You have to go back!”

The woman kicked violently. The doctor addressed it by holding her arms down. He needed a clear shot to pop the pill in her mouth. Upon dropping it in, she settled within seconds. All the aggression faded and she lay there, eyes open, still blinking. Her pupils moved as though following movements she couldn’t make out. Those pills, whatever they were, had worked.

Henry gulped. He remembered back to his experience on the gurney, what it was like for him and how she must feel now – fully conscious yet being unable to move. At the time he didn’t like being under the blanket, in darkness. Watching this woman try and make sense of her surroundings made him appreciate it more.

Henry gulped a second time. “Why do I have to go back to the hospital?”

The doctor worked hard to patch her up. “I think I got it,” he said. “I can look after her here but someone has to call an ambulance.”

At once the crowd became active, lifting cell phones to call the same number.

Against the bustle of noise, Henry cried again, “Why do I have to go back to the hospital!?” No use. The noise had taken over.

Henry let his futile efforts go. Right then, he noticed something he hadn’t seen at first. He saw a grave similarity between this man and the doctor from the hospital. It was a fleeting moment, occurring when he rested to wipe his forehead. But it was there.

The doctor stopped all together. “This is all I can do here. I’ll stay with her until the ambulance comes.”

The driver who struck her hovered over. “You mean she’s going to be all right? Thank you doctor. You saved her life. Not many people would help while off duty like that.”

“I’m a doctor. I save lives. If I don’t help a person in need then it’s like I’m throwing someone to the wolves. This is my job.” He smiled a clumsy half smile. “I suppose it’s down to luck I was here. I’m usually in work by now, but my brother’s shift was extended to care for a new patient. I’m his replacement so that means I had to come in late.”

Henry froze, captivated by those words. His suspicions seemed settled. Time to ponder ceased when Sierra tugged him along.

“Show’s over, Henry. We’re still on the clock, remember?” she said leading the group away.  

When the sounds of commotion faded into distance, Sierra asked Henry. “So, you usually carry pills like those around with you?”

“A doctor in the hospital gave them to me. I don’t know what they’re for but … well, he said they relieve pain.”

“And knock a person senseless, apparently.”

“It … did work, I guess.” Henry shrugged, clueless. “I don’t know what they’re used for exactly but it did help the woman.”

Alex frowned suspiciously. “The doctor gave you those pills and you took them without asking what they‘re for?”

“Well yeah, that’s what I usually do when a doctor gives me medication. Anyway, I was nauseous after the fire. It hurts my head to try and remember what happened, so … I’d like it if you dropped it.”

Alex read deep into the worried look on his friend’s face. The squashed up worry wrinkles on his brow indicated he’d greatly appreciate the matter dropped at once. Alex was never one for putting the personnel business of others up for show. 

“Fine … whatever. Forget it.”

***

A cold blanket of shadow fell over the city. Streetlights flickered on earlier than normal, creating a false impression of dusk. In this onset of night the streets became ever more emptier. 

The group marched on, all shivering, all wriggling their toes due to the slush in their boots. Given their sorry state and total lack of direction, calling quits for the day came to mind. These points, among others, brought Rum to a halt.

“I’ve had enough of this! We’ll have a better chance searching while it’s bright. We don’t even know where we’re going.”