A Vagrant Story (5 page)

“We find this note on the same night Sierra tells us about her foster father’s suicide, and you don’t see anything in that?”

“That’s why they’re called coincidences.” 

“Coincidences are cheap and unnoticeable. This is something else.”

“You talking about some divine plan? Don’t bring up any of that fate crap around me. I don’t buy that shit.”

“It looks like his,” Sierra said with two bright expressive eyes, the added effect may have been to get on the old man’s nerves or push him toward empathy. “
It looks just like my foster father’s note. They even have the same bloody name! It’s like a joke! A sick little joke!”

“Maybe it means something,” Alex said.

“It means somewhere up there some sick bearded man on a cloud is going to get a cheap laugh out of us,” Sierra stated.

“Going to?” Rum asked. “What’s that supposed to mean? Nobody‘s ‘going to‘ do anything about this.”

“Hate to say it but you did want that second chance, Sierra,” Alex said.

Rum held up a stern index finger. “Don’t you start. I mean it. Don’t.”

Alex was right. Sierra figured that after reading the note first.  She’d not spoken of her foster father in the longest time. John killed himself some thirteen years ago, not long before Christmas. Since then she’d not uttered his name until now. And now another one would fall her way, at this time of year of all times of year.

“Second chances don’t come easy,” she said as if to herself.

It didn’t stop Rum from hearing. “Aw shit, she’s got that weird look in her eye.”

“Rum, you’re not saying you want to leave him are you?” she argued.

“Leave him? Nah, I’m for the plan that involves us doing as little as possible. Try giving it in to someone if you’re so concerned. Let someone else handle it. The cop shop stays open through New Year. It’s their job to deal with stuff like this.”

“The cops don’t handle these things. They wouldn’t even be able to find him. There’s no address, not even a second name.”

“Then what do you expect us to do?” Rum asked.

She put her head down in deeper thought.

Alex brought forth a solution. “What about that building he mentions in the note … the one owned by someone called Jack Matters. That mean anything to anyone?”

“Jack Matters?” Sierra pondered the name. “There … is a place called something like that around here. Whenever I hear any of the other bums talk about debt that name usually follows.”

“Any idea where it is?” Alex asked.

“Kind of. Shouldn’t be too hard to find if it’s in the area.”

“What’s there to find?” Rum said. “According to the note the owner’s a book keeper by day and a loan shark at night. Someone like that ain‘t going to help.”

“We won’t make a show of it. We’ll just ask if they know who he is and where to contact him. Idle conversation, that’s all.”

“It’s a small start but it’s something, “Alex added. “He also indicates he lives outside the city centre.”

“Yeah that sure narrows it down. Christ, what the hell is wrong with you people, why do you even care?”

“I’ve always thought it’s better to help when you can.”

“And look where that got you.”

“I’ll get back on my feet.”

“You’re kidding yourself. It’s always the ones who say that who never do. Trust me, I know a few, and never once-”

“You kid yourself with doubt, old Rum.”

“Shut up ya freak, and cut out that philosophical crap, it doesn’t make you look cool.”

“We have the power to do something here.”

“Do we? For all we know this guy has hopped to it already.”

Sierra stated, “Well, we did just see him a few hours ago. He did look pretty wasted but I doubt he went straight to it. Would seem like a waste of a suicide note.”

“Listen Rum,” Alex continued, “look at the note. Today is the 23rd of December, that’s when he repaid the loan. He obviously only wrote this note today, after repaying the loan. In the final section he says ‘I know it’s New Year’, That’s when he intends to carry it out. That’s eight days from tomorrow morning.”

“And in this eight days you want to follow bread crumbs, vague misleading bread crumbs?”

“If it helps.”

“You’re just another stupid charity boy, bet you never threw me any change when you were all happy in your college years.”

Sierra shrieked to rid these childish exchanges. “Be quiet! Will the two of you shut the hell up? We‘re not going to solve anything arguing so why not put it down to vote? Alex and I say we should do something about this, and of course you say we shouldn’t.”

At once a ray of attention swarmed upon Henry.

The lad cringed back, shielding himself beneath his blanket. “I … You want me to decide?”

“It’s two to one,” Alex stated. He hoped Henry would side with morality over his own minute sense of adventure, which was to say none.

Henry looked over at Rum who upheld a threatening stare with grinding teeth. Then he looked back to Sierra who sat there with a set of two wide, needy cerulean eyes. Then he turned to Alex, as he sat there, expressionless as ever.

Pulling back a deep breath, Henry closed his eyes and said, “I-I think we … should…”

Chapter 3

“Lousy Dud,” old Rum moaned, kicking ice along this sleet washed pathway.

It wasn’t really what they were doing that annoyed him. It was how Sierra insisted they leave first thing next morning. The biting pre-dawn chill in the air did little to boost morale.

Apparently this shop lay some two or three blocks away, near enough to where Sierra stole the wallet in the first place. Normally a journey such as this wouldn’t be a bother, except snowfall picked up the moment they set out. Steam from sewers ensured it reverted to liquid before solid placement could be maintained. It resulted in a brown sludgy sleet scattered around in places.

Henry already showed signs of regretting his own decision. “Are we nearly there yet?” he asked.

“You keep asking and I keep saying I’m not sure,” Sierra said.

“Well you said it wouldn’t take too long.”

“I said I wasn’t sure.” Sierra took another look at the note as if to reaffirm. “Let’s see, the shop is called … Jack Matters? Is it? I think that’s it. The handwriting’s so sloppy … like a child’s. If my thinking’s straight there’s a place called that somewhere around here. Can’t be coincidence.”

“Great, our only clue is a guess riding on another guess,” Rum said.

“And we’ll really be walking the whole way there?” Henry asked, slinking inwards as if the combination words alone brought fatigue.

“Well what do you suppose we do? Not like we got the money for a bus. We wouldn’t have to do any of this if you’d just sided with me in the first place.”

“Don’t listen to him Henry, he’s trying to trick you,” Sierra said.

“What about hitch-hiking?” Henry suggested.

“What sorry shit would pick up a pack of filthy beggars like us?” Rum stated.

“Hey, I don t beg,” Sierra protested.

“Either do I, but a lot of people would consider hanging around restaurants waiting for the next mound of garbage to come, as begging.”

Henry coughed. “Smoke!”

“If I had any you wouldn’t get one,” the old man snapped.

Alex sniffed the breeze. “He means there’s smoke in the air. There’s quite a bit, something‘s burning.”

They waited for a sign as if standing in wait for sunrise. It came on the horizon, a rim of flame consuming the dark morning sky. The orange glow rose over rooftops nearest to them, the smoke went up from there.

Alex pointed at it. “Looks like it’s just on the other side of those buildings.”

Standing staring like the others, Sierra mumbled, “Well … it is close by. Someone might be hurt.”

“Just some old building, I‘m sure the cats got out fine,” Rum said.

Alex walked toward it without another word.

Sierra followed Alex. “It couldn’t hurt to check, Rum.”

“What d’ya mean it couldn’t hurt!? It’s a bloody fire!”

Rum followed regardless. They cut through two alleys before arriving on the correct street, a main road lined with mundane box shaped buildings. It looked like a normal street, save one burning building decorating the morning air.

The atmosphere was one of eerie quiet, as though the villagers up and ran on the first sign of danger. It was still early, perhaps no one noticed yet, or perhaps no one cared. According to news reports mysterious fires were plenty common in this area. A gangland strife hung over the territory and local retailers often found themselves suffering in its wake. Whatever their reasons, the scene was one fire brigade short. This community bound neighbourhood seemed unlikely to resolve that issue.

The four homeless vented thoughts for a plan opposite the burning building. Sounds of collapse and rising sparks ticked like egg timer sand. Even with a wide road between they couldn’t help feel powerless against the flaring foreground.

Rum stared it down like a rodent to a cat’s gaping jaw. “So … any bright ideas? I’d suggest throwing cups of water but we can’t even afford those.”

Sierra stopped in a phase of deep broad eyed thought. “You know, I’m pretty sure that place we’re looking for was on this street. I don’t see it anywhere else so…”

Henry shuffled closer to the structure, listening ears pulling in what he could. “Does anyone hear a voice in there? I think I hear a voice. Someone’s in there.”

“Not a chance. Nobody could survive in there,” Rum said.

Lifting his coat against the heat, Henry braved nearer yet again. “It is a voice! Someone’s calling out!”

It came barely audible at first, a low muffled cry of someone who hardly could. It peaked to a point of greater notice then died to nothing.

Rum sniffed as if to ignore it. “It’s too early. The place wouldn’t even be open. Nobody would be in there.”   

“I hear someone too,” Alex said, directing everyone’s attention to a laneway leading to a side entrance to the building. “The side gate’s been left open. Someone went in there recently.

Sierra stepped nearer to Henry and the burning building. “Hope you’re sure about this. We’ll probably have to do something.”

“I saw this in a movie once - the hero dies,” Rum said.

“It wouldn’t be right. We can’t walk away if there’s someone trapped,” Sierra protested.

Rum stroked his beard in contemplation. “Wait for the fire brigade. It’s their job, not ours.”

“If they’re planning on coming they’ll be a while. It doesn’t even look like anyone’s noticed this yet. Rum, can’t you do something?”

Rum backed off with hands up for defence. “To hell I say. I ain’t got nothing to do with this.”

“Alex?” she pleaded.

He didn’t respond, as though unable to hear over sounds of caving wood amidst the rasping blaze. A twitched glance at Sierra betrayed his sincerity.

Trapped in hopelessness, she yelled at the top of her voice, “Hello! Is anyone in there!? Can you hear me!?

“That ain’t gonna work, kid.”

“At least she’s trying to do something,” Henry yelled.

“That so? I don’t see you doing anything so don’t start saying shit like that to me. You’re the biggest pussy I’ve ever known so shut up and stay shut up.”

“I’m … not afraid.”

His own words forced him into an upright stance of realisation. A rush of adrenaline flushed through his blood, strengthening his bones. It wasn’t so much adrenaline but a memory of another time, another fire in another place.

He mumbled to himself, “Leon ran away … and someone died.”

His eyes locked on the side entrance. The concrete surface of the lane remained clear of fire. He found his legs moving without consent. He found himself plunging into the narrow passage. Behind, he could hear Sierra cry out for him:

“Henry, what are you doing you twat!?”

Her words faded to a muffled call under the crunching rasp of burning wood. It looked so easy from afar and for a moment Henry hesitated to turn back. The lane might have been clear but tips of flame dripped out like greedy hands stabbing at something to latch onto. Pulling his jacket over his head he rushed near blind until slamming against the end wall. He used his hands to push off and break through a door to the right. Fortunately it had been weakened by the heat or else he would have found himself bouncing straight back.