A Vagrant Story (7 page)

“I’m not even sure why I did it. Really, I’m not that kind of person. I didn’t think at the time.

“But you did do it, you saved him. You should be treated like a hero.”

“Should?”

From the opposite end of the hall, a bed ridden patient cried out: “Doctor! Hey doctor, you still work here or what!?”

The doctor rubbed his flat buzz-cut hair in frustration. “It’s never done. Listen Henry, I’ve got work to do. Remember, I don’t care what they’re saying. You’re a good kid. If it were up to me I’d give you a medal for what you did.” The doctor searched his pockets to take out a small case of pills. “Okay, I really shouldn’t do this. These pills are designed to calm livid patients by … putting them to sleep, in a sense. I’m giving them to you to look after.”

“Pills? But you said I’d be okay.”

“You will be. The pills are going to help you get out of here. I won’t let them get you, no matter what they say.”

With shivering hands, Henry took the pills without question. The doctor nodded farewell, walking on to seek out the patient who called him.

“Wait! Let who get me?”

The doctor was too far gone to hear over the rabble of patients. Leaving it at that, Henry slinked under his bed sheets. On the edge of his ears he could hear the next patient on the doctor’s route yell very openly.

“What’s goin’ on doc!? Why you droppin’ the regulars for that freak over there!? He supposed to be famous now cause he’s a criminal? We can’t all be wanted by the cops y’know. What he do anyway?” His interrogation descended into sly whispers. The doctor appeared to be having none of it and promptly walked away.

Though he knew little else the statement could imply, Henry found himself trying to re-interpret its meaning. Almost immediately he noticed many eyes shifting upon him. He only realised then they had been watching him the whole time. As if to avoid eye contact with anyone, he rolled to his side and looked to the main door.

He now understood why the doctor had been glancing on and off out the door, and why he had frequently been popping in and out of the room. It looked like he’d been checking in with a police officer who stood outside on guard, like they do for criminals in the movies.

For the briefest of moments Henry swelled with curiosity. His eagerness dwindle the moment he realised both the doctor and the guard were staring straight at him. That’s when it dawned on Henry.

Mysterious fires were all too common in this city – witnesses weren’t. So when the police hear of some bum kid who shouldn’t have been there in the first place, they might have plenty of reason to doubt. Word on the street, at least what word Henry could sponge, said the fires were an extortion trip on behalf of some demi-kingpin. That’s what the news reports said too. That’s what bums, crooks, and everyone down to the crack addicts said. It seemed everyone knew except the police themselves. For years they continued to cling onto their lone pyromaniac story. And after years without progress few would really care who took the pinch.

Henry could see his life flash by behind bars. He would be alone. The police would be congratulated for their capture, the true culprits forgotten, and the public would lose interest. And he would be alone.

***

Sierra and Rum didn’t make much progress. They were still waiting in the assigned waiting area, or as some might call it, a hallway with chairs in it. On the way in to this place they bore witness to corridors packed with patients and visitors, waiting rooms so crowded grown men sat on the ground. This particular section looked as if a viral contaminate broke out and someone forgot to tell them. Even the elevator across from them stood like a static door to nowhere.

“You know,” Rum said. “I think they forgot about us.”

Sierra sighed in agreement. “Maybe there’s nothing to report yet.”

“Nothing should take this long. These piece of crap doctors have no idea what they’re doing.”

“Try trust them, Rum, they are the ones with the diplomas.”

“Shouldn’t trust these fools with another man’s life - look at this mess of a hospital. Doctors should report on the hour every hour, don’t matter what they’re doing, them’s the rules - good form at least.” Rum tensed up with folded arms.

“Relax, Rum. Here have a drink.” She held out a paper cup of water.

He knocked it to the floor like a nasty child. “That ain’t drink. Give me some whiskey and I’ll relax.”

Sierra grinned. “Look who’s all tensed up now. The doctor said they’ll be fine so calm down. They’ll be fine.”

“Like I care.”

“Don’t you?”

Rum sniffed the question off. “This place is the problem.”

Sierra looked around. “The hall?”

“Not the hall, the whole damn hospital. Why do you think this place is so crummy? It’s being extorted, that’s why.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s all about business. This hospital might be a state run freebie for us types but it’s still in the way of big business. Private hospitals could use that income for themselves. It’s also much easier to take local doctors from here rather than getting them from abroad. So this place turns to crap because whoever they leave behind won’t know a scalpel from a kitchen knife. It’s a battle of business. Few years later the company will show up with a generous offer to bail out this dive. Then they’ve got another patch of land to reap rewards from.”  

“Sounds … farfetched.”

“Not in the slightest. It’s the cheater’s handbook 101: make the opponent look bad then suck him dry. It starts with smaller businesses then increases on scale with the company’s level of grandeur.”

“And by ‘the company’ you mean…”

“What else could I mean? The same company runs over half this city these days. It all started with some damn fool telling easy lies, but what starts on lies grows on lies. What a fool.”

“Wow. That’s deep for you. I’d almost believe it if I didn’t know you have no idea what you’re talking about. Your head must be getting soft without beer.”

Rum grunted, leaning forward as if to show his dismay. “I ain’t that dumb, Blondie.”

“You’re not a business man either.”

“I’m not a lot of things, that don’t mean I’m nothing.”

Sierra caught herself on the end of her tongue. Relinquishing the argument she slumped into her seat, perking upright for the sound of voices drawing closer from around a corner. “Someone’s coming. The doctor maybe?”

Not so. Two police came walking to the elevator across from them, talking loud like no one were around.

“Uniforms,” Rum whispered, hiding face under collar out of habit. 

Sierra had better reason to, but she kept her head high with nothing to hide, at least to appear that way.

“So you really think this kid is behind it all? I heard he’s only in his early twenties,” one officer said to the other.

“Not like we’ve anything better to go on. No witnesses, no survivors, no suspects. Now all of a sudden this kid shows up on our radar. It’s the only lead we got,” his partner replied.

“All because of an anonymous tip off from a staff member at this hospital. That doesn’t sound fishy to you?”

“That’s how these things usually go down. When a worker in this hospital sees the same kid day after day robbing the same drugs as our guy he‘s likely to want keep his name out the limelight.”

“What about the reward money?” The officer pushed the button to call the elevator down, then stood waiting.

“Think about it. This place is a dive. I’d say at least 60 percent of the staff here are sneaking drugs out for themselves. Assuming 30 percent of those are too wasted to think straight the other 30 are probably selling them for twice the reward money. What you think would happen if word got out that that person went snitching to the cops?”

“He’d lose business.”

“Or get fingered himself … all it’d take is one junkie with a grudge.”

“Yeah sure … you got it all figured out.”

“Look … fact is this guy was caught in the act right before another murder. Tests showed the drugs stolen were the same kind used on the victim. Since day one we’ve been told the killer has easy access to the streets, how else would he get around without drawing any attention? Who has easier access than a bum? Who could move around so easily other than a bum?”

“I don’t know. From what I hear the kid doesn’t look like he could fight, let alone kill. And easy access? This is hardly Fort Knox we‘re talking about here. I walk that route to work, pass the same people everyday and nobody recognises me. The whole reason behind it just doesn‘t sound right.”

“You never know these days with people snapping the way they do.”

“Bums are different from most people, they’ve already broken. I don’t think it’s him.”

“Yeah well, we don’t get paid to think.”

“Tell me about it.”

The elevator arrived with a ping. Their conversation shifting to one more lunch oriented, they stepped through and disappeared behind closed doors.

Rum settled down upon their leaving. “I’ve noticed a good few of them here today.”

“It’s none of our business.”

“I’ve been saying that all along.”

“Well, we’re already doing our good deed for the year.”

“You still want to find this guy, after all this?”

“This is a minor setback.”

“A minor set back!?”

“You can’t complain, you said you weren’t worried about Alex and Henry. Don’t act like a hypocrite.”

“They can handle themselves. It’s all this travelling stuff that’s got me in a knot. We couldn’t walk down the street without getting trapped in a burning building, what else you got planned? We ain’t even getting anything for this. If I have to be homeless I’d rather utilize my right to be lazy while I have the chance.”

“I don’t think that right is going anywhere soon.”   

Led by the change in topic, Sierra found her hands seeping into her pockets. She took out the note and un-scrunched it from a ball. “But I guess we can knock this day off the clock. Seven days until New Year, without a single lead. It was so simple, we just had to find that one shop – Jack Matters.”

“Too bad it burned down then.”

“I’ll say.” Sierra narrowed an eye. “Wait, come again?”

Rum leaned back carelessly. “Saw the name of the shop before the ambulance took us out. Didn’t you see it?”

Sierra flexed tight as if to prevent her body from exploding in frustration. The force of the blast would most certainly knock her fist square against Rum’s jaw. She sprang to her feet. “Why didn’t you say that sooner!?”

“Calm down, I thought you noticed too. Naturally, I assumed we were dropping the whole thing.”

“They took that guy to this hospital! And we’ve been sitting here the whole time.”

“You’re not seriously thinking-“

“Get off your ass. We’re going to find this guy.”

“Jack Matters … kinda sounds like a fake name. You sure you read that note right?”

“Now you’re saying the name is fake? You’re so desperate to give up. Maybe if you didn’t quit so easy you’d be some place better.”

“Spoken from the mouth of a true celeb idol.”

“Don’t start this here. We’re already in a hospital so it’ll be no-holds-barred.”

“All I’m saying is maybe you read the note wrong. Come On, the page is damp and mushed, maybe you read it wrong. Let me see it.”

“Push off.” She stormed away at that.

Rum followed at once. “Hey come on, wait up.”

Refusing to stop or turn around, she spoke back to him. “Rum, we went looking for a shop called Jack Matters. Then we found a shop called Jack Matters. What do you call that?”

“A coincidence maybe.”

“It’s right here in this note.” She wheeled round, waving the note between her fingers. “Coincidence doesn’t come that big.”

“You say that yet I’ve been seeing them all day. Why can‘t you?”

“We’re going to find this guy. If you don’t want to help then just fall in a corner and die somewhere.”

“I’ll come with you, but I know it’s pointless,” Rum said. “This hospital’s pretty damn big. It’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack full of old, dead, and infected pieces of hay. And I sure as hell can’t remember what the guy looked like, do you?”

She paused for thought. “Alex. That guy’s got a pretty good memory about these kinds of things. At least I think he does. Remember when he got jumped by some guy one night, then five months later he saw him again and beat the crap out of him.”

“Memory’s got nothing to do with it. He’s just a vengeful psycho.”

“I think writer’s are supposed to work that way, I think it’s built into their brains somehow. Helps them to create better imagery. At least … that‘s what my foster father used to say.”

Rum continued grunting and huffing the whole way along. Though they hadn’t visited Alex they knew what room he stayed in. The matter at hand allowed them to flog off waiting for doctor’s invite.

The room they found him in looked like a chicken coop of gurneys. In this coop the farmers took blood over eggs, and judging from some steam cleaned mattresses, provided the human sized bag makers with income. This room was one of many they passed.