A Vagrant Story (50 page)

“Come on, Rum - that expensive suit you used to wear, how you know so much about business. Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out where you came from? After all this time you’ve never been able to keep a secret from me, especially not the ones you want to keep.”

Alex smirked. “What? Rum actually managed to keep his mouth shut about something?”

“A big something. Let’s just say … no one in this room is going to have to worry about money for a while … at least with Rum’s help. Right Rum?”

Rum uttered some compliant grumbles. “We’ll see.”

“Maybe with your influence you could even help Alex get his stories published.”

“Even God don’t have that kind of influence.”

“Like you’ve read them,” Alex said.

“What would it matter? Last I heard all your stories got snatched by that corrupt agent.”

“They did. I found them again.”

“How?”

“They were still there … in the same place I last saw them.” Alex held up the CD between his index finger and thumb.

Rum nodded. “So that’s what that CD’s about. Thought you’d just gone a little senile with an imaginary computer.”

“Funny. I guess you can buy me a real one when we‘re done, rich guy. I‘ll let you pick it out.”

“I look like I know about crap like that? I used to just pay people to do it for me.”

“How many people?”

“Lots.”

“We’ll seriously have to talk about this book deal.”

“What would you even do with success?”

“I’ve always wanted to do something different.“

“Different?”

“I want to achieve something in my life. That’s why I need this money. I want to do good. Things no one else would do with their money.”

“You want to be some hero?”

“I guess you could say that. Maybe, I don’t know, I could give it to some charity and call it quits. Imagine what a million pounds could do for one African village.”

“Sure why not? I always figured you’d go down as the biggest nut in history anyway. To hell with that! We’re charity enough. If I’m gonna spend my money on you then charity your profit my way.”

“So it’s true then … you are loaded.”

“I might have a little extra something tucked away some place sure. Y’know, money alone won’t get your stuff published.”

“I know … I wouldn’t want to buy my way in anyway. Promotion can be your department.”

“It’d be wasted if you think that’s all I can do.”

Alex paused in a build-up of excitement. “Just how rich are you?”

“Quite a bit.”

“A bum with a hidden fortune … you’re a cliché in every form.”

Rum shied down under his own shoulders, eyes dodging back and forth between Alex and Henry leering in with greed filled eyes. In all awkwardness, the old bum demanded Henry pass the remote. Snapping it straight from his hands Rum began mindlessly switching stations.

“Let’s see what else is on.”

The volume on mute, a picture of this hospital from outside appeared. A female reporter in a red suit stood in front reading the story.

Sierra burst upright, flattening back out with aching joints. “Turn the volume up!”

Rum obeyed. The room silenced.

“It happened just moments ago,” the speaker said. “We received word that the serial killer who has prowled the streets these past years has been apprehended within this hospital. Early reports indicate the suspect is a 34 year old male and believed to work at this hospital. Police have stated that the man in question was apprehended while in the process of pursing another potential victim, believed to be a patient here. While details of the capture remain sketchy we can tell you the victim managed to fight the culprit off in an act of desperation, a feat no doubt inspired by the two hundred thousand dollar reward for anyone who provides information leading to an arrest.”

The report droned on against the silence of gaping jaws.

“T-two hundred thousand? For me?” Henry said.

“Nice of them to inform us,” Rum said.

“Yeah what the hell?” Sierra said. “They call the press but nobody bothered telling us! What the hell could they be doing?”

“Milking it by the looks of things,” Rum stated, indicating the television.

The screen changed to a detective delivering statements at the front of the hospital. Surrounding him stood a cluster of blue uniforms, all cramming together into the screen. From how they waved their hands and gave thumbs up they might as well have been brandishing ‘hey mom’ signs.

“That explains it … publicity seeking wankers.”

“Idiots,” Alex stated. “Haven’t they ever heard of witness protection. Strictly speaking we’re still sitting ducks in here.”

“Why do we need protection, we’re heroes!” Rum exclaimed.

“You almost make it sound like the cops in this city thought something through.”

“Simplicity is hardly thought provoking.”

Henry had frozen with a deeper paleness alien to him. “M-money?” He piped one more time as if speaking those final words before waking from a good dream.

“Guess you’re loaded, bud,” Rum added.

Sierra smiled. “Yes … Henry … money. That is if they don’t forget about us all together. Speaking of which, you’d think the staff here would be a little more concerned about us. We did get beaten near to death and all.”

“We already put one of their head doctors in jail. The rest want nothing to do with us.”

“Or most likely…” Sierra looked into the television. Behind that rabble of police officers seeking their five minutes of fame, stood a second rabble of white and green scrubs pressed against the glass doors of the hospital entrance. Each waved as enthusiastically as those officers. It seemed even the patients were getting in on the mix. A voice over spoke as the detective continued his seminar.

“This shocking breakthrough comes with great misfortune, however, as on this very same night a new challenge for our city’s police has entered the mainstream media. Earlier today two bank robbers who relieved a city bank of five hundred thousand dollars managed to escape without a trace. Police place the blame on lack of visibility due to poor weather conditions. It has however been speculated, by us, that the escaping van tossed bags full of money into the pursuing vehicles resulting in a pile up which tore a hole through a downtown building. Information on this story is currently sparse due to a sudden and bizarre lack of eye witnesses. It has been said at least one man was seen picking up and bagging money before disappearing into the fog. If you know the identity of this man please report to the proper authorities.”

“Lucky guy,” Rum grumbled.

“At least that makes one lucky man this year,” Alex added.

“You talking about our suicidal friend, John? Maybe it’s the morphine speaking here but with all that’s happened I might be coming around to your line of thinking, Alex. Maybe there’s a little more to this god stuff than meets the eye. Sure … if something up there went through all that effort to help us I‘m sure it’s giving the same treatment to John. Nobody down here managed to help him but maybe … just maybe…”

“Maybe we were the ones who were supposed to save him … and we failed.”

“Chances are we weren’t meant to succeed. We were only supposed to leave the park. You know, stop sitting around and get back to reality.”

“And what about finding the suicide note?” Rum said “I can think of less elaborate ways to make us leave the park. Why would fate connect us to John like that?”

“Maybe we weren’t connected in the first place. We only thought we were. Finding the note only made us leave … actually saving him was someone else’s problem.”

“Maybe it is the morphine speaking, after all,” Alex said.

“Shut up you damn freak. Here’s me trying to be philosophical and you go ruin it. If I wasn’t stuck in this bed I’d beat that ugly head of yours straight off. I’ve seriously got to beat the crap out of you one of these day.”

“You wouldn’t … and couldn’t.”

“Yeah, cute,” Rum groaned. “Look … all I’m saying is good things might happen when you least suspect.”

“Your philosophies a tad dated. You come with it all on your own?”

“That’s what I learned … maybe he did too.”

“Since when are you so optimistic?” Sierra asked.

Rum yanked his morphine tube. “Lots of reasons … we’ll have to see when the morphine runs out.”

“You’re a strange old man.”

“Never doubt it. Try remember that when you‘re all hampered up in your middleclass bed.”

“We’ll see … maybe I might know someone who’s into strange old men.”

“Really? She into drunks, bums, and a guys who haven’t showered in years? I might stand a chance then.”

“Well … she did once date a writer.”

“I see … so she wants to upgrade then.”

“Care to give it a shot?”

“I’ll see if she meets my standards.”

“That’s a yes then. Though there’s no harm in taking a bath, quitting the bum life and stopping the drink.”

“Bath? Sure. Bum life? That’s a given. Drink? She’d have to be some woman.”

“And get a job. Wealth or no.”

“Y’think?”

Henry sat upright on his stool. “So … what’s this then? We’re all done with the gutter? This is it?”

“I guess it is. Only if we stick to it.”

“Hey well … we’re not all exactly done in the gutter,” Alex said. “Sure I’ve my writing back but … it’s not as solid as a cheque.”

“But Rum said he‘ll help you,” Sierra said.

“Yeah … but … it’ll take time. Even with Rum’s help it’ll probably be a year before a publisher even looks at them.”

“Fine.“ Rum stretched into a yawn, using the position to rise to his feet. Clutching a crutch left beside his bed, he began groggily limping his way out of the room.

“Where are you going?” Sierra asked.

“To call a friend from the good ol’ days. He knows a few guys in that line of work. There’s a rumour out there that publishers don’t favour the wealthy in their publications. Cram it. You’ll have your book in a month.”

“You serious?”

“Call it payback for all the shit I give you.” Rum turned to leave, briefly looking back at all them one last time. “By the way … my name’s Nathan. Nice to meet you.”

Chapter 36

And so it appeared those four bums would be set for life. So long as fortune stayed their way, and old Rum managed to keep his head on proper, things might just work out for them. Either way their part of the story had finally come to end, though not with the outcome they’d hoped for since setting out. It was, however, one they’d each desired for quite a few days before then. That is of course if they stuck to it.

Still, it didn‘t all turn out for the best, not with one man tossed into the back of memory by these rampant change in events. His name was John, by no means a man most would even want to remember. A man few would even nod greeting to when passing by. A man few would care to save. A man … who at that time resided in the room directly above those four vagrant heroes. A man, who at that moment, sat combing out tangles from his four year old daughter’s red, knotted hair.

“Ouch,” the child groaned.

Her father continued to brush. Part to iron down that long neglected mess of a head, part to further examine the bruise marks splotched around her face. Hard to believe that woman could leave such noticeable markings and get away with it for so long. Then again, with that tongue of hers she could have convinced her friends and neighbours that this was all the father’s doing, despite his being removed from the situation. Still … even with all her lies and misdoings, he never imagined his wife would abandon the kid like this.

If John hadn’t gone to her apartment when he did … he wouldn’t have found her. No one would have found her. One more crying child in that apartment block would go unheeded for far too long a time. If he hadn’t braved that blizzard when he did, if he hadn’t listened to his … instinct … things might have been different. But he’d done the right thing. The reasons as to why, or how, all this came to be remained something of a mystery to him.

It happened in a shopping centre. All he’d done was duck inside to avoid the blizzard. He’d been sitting there, minding his own business when one of his lost belongings appeared by his feet without reason, a bag.

Last he knew he’d lost that bag when visiting the grave of his sister, Annette. He was about to leave when he saw a short skinny man in glasses. He recognised the man as one of the band of four who robbed him just eight days ago. He had run away in fear, leaving the bag behind.