A Vagrant Story (13 page)

“I-I’m sorry. I just … reacted. Sorry.”

“Sorry nothing. Since Alex had to bail you out we’ll probably end up getting more trouble on our plates.”

“You don’t think they’ll come after us do you?” Sierra asked.

“Let’s just avoid using this bridge again. Something tells me this place is populated with its fair share of screwballs, and those guys aren’t the exception. Besides, we promised Len we’d keep our heads low.”

“That seems like a good idea,” Alex said. “Did you notice those blue hoodies they were wearing? At Matter’s bar there were groups outside wearing the same kind of outfits. Most of the dealers around here are wearing those same clothes too. This must be where mister Matters gets his income.”

“Then let’s hope he doesn’t miss his debt book,” Sierra said.

“I’d rather not find out.”

They cleared across to the other side. Like a boundary between two different nations this side appeared empty when compared to the last. Maybe all the locals flood to the other side at night.

They stopped under a street lamp to gather their bearings.

“Len told us Grey Oaks is right across from the bridge,” Rum said. “A lot of things are right across from the bridge, and I don’t see no retirement home. The layout here is all over the place. The structure sucks, the locals suck, the entertainment sucks – why the hell would anyone want to live in a place like this?”

“Deadbeats have to live somewhere,” Alex replied. “Junkies need easy access. Hookers need customers and so do dealers. Some people have needs and this place supplies - call it a controlled hell hole.”

“My favourite kind of hell,” Rum said.

“The police must turn a blind eye here so criminals don’t feel inclined to go into other areas of the city,” Alex continued. “Controlled … like keeping monkeys in cages. They might be confined but that won’t stop them throwing shit at each other.”

While the others spoke amongst themselves Henry wandered around checking signposts. One arrow pointed down a dreary alley.

“Grey Oaks retirement home,” he read out loud. “H-hey, I found it!”

They grouped before the alley opening like knights before a dragon’s cave. The alley path seemed to have been absorbed by darkness, as if they’d step in and fall to a bottomless pit.

Rum fiddled with the sign post in some vain attempt to change its direction. “Looks like a fine place for someone to drop an ambush. And from the looks of things, someone already did.”

He drew their attention to a burnt out building which acted as one of the alley borders. They could see through the broken walls to pieces of furniture and cindered computer monitors dotted about inside. It might have been left that way since the day it burned down.

Sierra marched forward. From the way the others stood gawking at the scenery they’d never move without encouragement. The whole way down they clustered near one another for support. In reality the alley was quite short. Turning at a fork in the lane, their eyes met a dimly glowing light set above a metallic security door. A white van had been parked right outside. It occurred to them this wasn’t so much an alley but more a driveway down, although the other passage at the fork appeared annexed to a longer alley. They didn’t need to look down, they already found their goal.

“Well, this looks like the place,” Sierra said.

The light above the metal door flickered as if reacting to their presence.

Alex pushed the metallic security door open. It wasn’t even locked. 

The interior was no grander than outside. Wallpaper peeled off onto the cracked tiled floor. Drips of water would tap the ground off the corner of their eyes. When they turned in time to see one drop fall another would pull their attentions away. Bed pans lay strewn about to catch most of the leaks.

Patients needed the remaining pans for themselves, not that they seemed capable of getting up and using them to begin with. What looked like the bulk of patients had been packed into this one room. They lay strewn on gurneys tied up to tubes and wires too advanced for the décor. More elderly sat planted on couches in front of a television set. The way they stared blankly forward they didn’t seem aware of themselves.

Yet it was all one room. This small building bore no interior walls. Where walls should have been the floor merely changed surface from tiles to carpet. Right now they stood on tiles like those normally found in most reception areas. They couldn’t see a reception desk though, not until a rustle sounded from behind a stack of boxes.

A woman in a pink orderly shirt popped up in greeting. “I didn’t hear you come in, sorry. Be with you in a minute, I have to fix this.”

Standing in waiting, Rum sniffed noticeably. “It stinks.”

“Give it a week, you’ll smell worse,” Alex said.

“Doubt it. I’ve never crapped in my bed and slept in it.”

The nurse finished her duty by placing a long wooden board across two stacked boxes, in the form of a table. Setting a notepad on top, she stood behind in waiting. It was the reception desk. 

“Are you visiting?”

Sierra approached. “We’re looking for someone.”

“Name?”

“He’s not a patient here.”

“No? Then what can I do?”

Sierra held out the bank draft. “We’re looking for this man. He donated money to this place but … it never made it here.”

“This … is from John.”

“That’s what the signature says.”

“How did you get this? John usually brings them himself.”

“We’re … friends of his.”

“That’s not possible. John doesn’t have any.”

“We’re new friends.”

“You do seem … more his type.”

“So you do know him.”

“We dated … briefly.”

“Didn’t work out?”

“No. He’s clingy. He gambles. He cheats. He never shuts up about his ex-wife,” the woman blurted.

“That’s a lot of present tense for an ex.”

“Well … to be honest I haven’t gotten around to cutting the cord.”

“Would be the reasonable thing to do.”

“But I haven’t even seen him in so long. Then when I do see him from time to time, it’s almost like running into a total stranger. It’s tough to know where I stand.”

Sierra went along with it. The way she blurted these statements out it seemed she’d been holding them back for a while. So long as she believed they were friends of John’s they could extract what information they needed. The nurse probably hoped they’d pass the message.

“I would have ended it,” the nurse continued, “but he started donating money to this pace. And well … look at this dump, few people even know we exist down here. We needed the money and this place means more to me than anything. I guess that’s why John started donating in the first place. So long as he kept it up I’d be less likely to dump him.”

“Have you got an address?”

“Sorry. I’ve never been to his house.”

Alex leered over. “You took his money and you don’t even know where he lives?”

“He dropped the donations off here himself. When he stopped delivering them I thought he finally took the hint - although it would have been nice if he figured it out after giving me this payment. He’s a little thick, a real loser to be honest. No offence.”

“Because he gave you money?” Alex snapped. “The guy tries to help and you throw it in his face – no, you didn’t even have the guts to throw it in his face!”

The nurse stared in wonder.

Sierra tried easing Alex down with her hands.

“Forget it,” Alex said. “I’ll be outside.”

Watching him storm out the main entrance, Rum muttered to the others, “What’s up his fanny?”

Sierra re-focused on the nurse. “Sorry about that. He’s had a rough day – there was this fire then he had a run in with some assholes.”

“Of course – it’s tough working on Christmas.”

Sierra grinned. “Of course … He’s something of a workaholic, our Alex.”

The nurse paused for thought. “You know, now that I think of it I may have something you could use.” She dug under the boxes, or reception desk, and re-emerged with a photo. “This is his ex-wife and his daughter, Emma.”

The picture showed a red haired woman holding a child of roughly four years in her arms. John, they assumed, held the camera.

Sierra hummed. “That’s very cute, but how does this help us find him?”

“He left this at my house a while ago. He would sometimes drop into moods, you know, get depressed. He used to keep this photo nearby to cheer himself up. Better than Prozac this, he’d light up in seconds. Annoyed the hell out of me. What kind of man stares at a picture of his ex while with another woman? Well … really he just liked seeing his kid. He said it was the best photo of her. Still … I thought it inappropriate. If you really want to find him, he scribbled his ex-wife’s new address on the back.”

Sierra took the photo and flipped it over. “This is his address?”

“His old address. His ex-wife and kid live there now. I’ve no idea where he lives now.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to pay his ex-wife a visit.”

“That could be tricky. The way he described her she sounds like a real hard-case. But … that might have been a lie too.”

“He lied a lot?”

“At everything he did. From the stories he told me to the way he gambled. He cheated all the time. Never took an honest win. Still, he rarely did ever win. He owed money all over the place. I’m positive criminals were after him.”

“We think so too,” Sierra said.

The nurse peeked down at the sleeping patients. “They’ll be waking up soon. I’ll have to clean their beds. Do you mind waiting a moment?”

***

Alex waited outside in the alley. He paced up and down, furiously pondering as to why he became so worked up. Since coming to this place he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight. He felt something in the air here, a certain familiarity he couldn’t quite place. More than anything he paced up and down merely to tire out his darkened temper. The inconspicuously dark side alley did little to lighten the mood.

Nearing voices snapped his senses back. Winging a chance, Alex peaked out around the white van. Two men entered the alley, two men in blue hoodies – the same men from the bridge. They spoke loud, blissfully uncaring for anyone who might hear.

“She better be fit!” one said. “I’m not risking my parole for another ugly cow.”

“Not like the cops ever come here. We’ll just blast her full of drugs then carry her to the car. Once we drop her off those sickos at the brothel will take care of her.”

“And if they don’t want her?”

“You heard it from the boss himself – trade’s too low to be picky.”

“Trade’s low because the cops are on the look out for that place.”

“They just think it’s an old wives tale, they’ve no choice but to investigate. Once they get tired of looking we’ll be back in the clear.”

“That’s true. The way they have that brothel hidden it’d take some miracle to find.” They stopped at a split in the lane which continued to run around the rear of the ruins. “They said they’d be waiting down this way.”

Both men stepped for the turn when one happened a glance toward the rest home. Alex made an attempt to duck back behind the van, which went to no avail.

“Hey check it out!” one cried, drawing the attention of the other. “It’s the smart guy again.”

Alex stepped out to meet them rather than go back inside. Mentally, he cursed himself for not running back inside while he had the chance.

“Problem is there?” he asked.

The white man, who acted in charge, pointed his way. “You. You’re my problem. Why is it when I offered my help you went and got all rude?”

“Sorry, didn’t plan spending the night cradled down in a gutter.”

“You’re already in the gutter, street scum. We don’t want you homeless rejects on our turf.”

“Why? Is the accommodation full? Maybe the addicts and hookers need it more.”

“They pay cash. You stay if you pay.”

“I’m really more a tourist.”

“Then I gotta take a border fee. Give me everything on you.”

“I don’t have anything on me.”

“You got clothes. Strip then give them to us.”

“I’ll stay here thanks.”

“Then we’ll do this the easy way.”

His accomplice revealed a syringe, squirting some contents into the air.

“That looks like a waste,” Alex said. “I thought you had a victim to subdue.”

Both men laughed and the white man spoke. “You should have played dumb, smart guy. You’re too clever for your own good – listening in on us like that.”

They slinked closer. Alex didn’t move until they came close enough. Grabbing the white man’s arm he spun him to the ground. Pinning him down, Alex levelled punches to the face.

“Stab him!” the beaten man yelled, stifled amidst the blows. “The syringe! Now!”

Taken aback by the tenacity of this assault, the black man hardly moved. When he did try stab the syringe he found it piercing hollow air. Alex had dodged back, ready to deliver a blow square to his jaw. He repeated three blows until the man fell.