A Vagrant Story (8 page)

Alex lay sleeping halfway down the room. He looked fine. At least he wasn’t hooked up to anything.  

Rum and Sierra crept over to avoid drawing attention. Even though there was only one nurse on duty, she might frown on uninvited guests. That is, if she could first manage to pull her face more than three inches from a magazine.

They stood over him, gazing down like parents upon a new born baby.

“Should we wake him?” Sierra asked.

“Allow me,” Rum replied.

He clutched Alex by the shoulders then shook him like a rattler. Alex lightly wailed back to reality. Amazingly, the nurse didn’t even glance.

Alex cringed under blankets upon realising it was just the dirty old man who stank of drink. “What do you want?”

“It’s not what I want. Just get your ass outta bed.”

Sierra shoved Rum aside. “We need your help with something. It turns out-“

“The burning building was the one we were looking for. Yeah, I noticed that right before passing out,” Alex muttered, eyes sealed as though still resting.

“Did everyone know already!?” Sierra exclaimed. “Listen Alex, they took him to this hospital.

“So go look for him then.”

“We’re going to, but we can’t remember what he looked like.”

“I see now. You think I can?”

“Of course you can. Remember that time those two guys laughed at you for eating from the bins, then three weeks later you kicked the crap out of them.”

“Three guys,” Alex pointed out. “Okay, maybe I do remember what he looked like. I’ll need to ask the nurse for permission to leave.”

“I‘ll do it,” Rum said, attention going right over Alex. “Hey nurse!”

“What do you want?” the nurse replied from her chair, snarling as though the magazine print had been grafted to her face.

“Can this guy walk the halls?”

“Depends who you are. Family, friends?”

Rum returned a vivid explanation. “We know him."

Her face fell back to the magazine. “Whatever, it’s not my problem.”

Even Alex had to stare a moment. Clearly, it was her problem, and everyone else in this room was her problem too. Happy to have heard what he wanted, Rum wandered out to the corridor.

“I guess we’re off then,” Sierra said.

Alex reached for some pills on the cupboard next to him.

“What are those for?” Sierra asked.

“Vitamins. They‘re supposed to help me recover. Just useless pills to prevent any mal-practice claims. Probably a placebo and all.”

Sierra frowned warily.

“What? That’s all they are.” He walked past her to meet with Rum outside in the corridor.

Sierra sighed, fogging it off just like him.

With Sierra joining them, Alex asked, “Right, so where do we find this guy?”

“Well, finding you was phase one,” Sierra said.

“And phase two?”

“We’ve no idea.”

“I see. Then we’ll just go to reception and ask for Jack Matters.” Alex paused, noting the odd number of their group. “Where’s Henry?”

“Don’t know. We assumed he’d be with you,” Rum said.

“They must have taken him to a different part of the hospital. That leaves us with two people to find,” Alex said.

“I’m on for leaving him,” Rum said.

Despite Rum’s enthusiasm, they made way to the reception area with Henry in mind. It took no time to get there, but after beating the queue the receptionist pulled an aptly timed coffee break. Work around continued as normal, so this break seemed of her own accord. Like a child snacking bits in the classroom, she continued working with clandestine wariness. Suffice to say those busy typing hands lulled to a snail’s pace.

Upon request, the receptionist searched the name-laden computer system, as the destitute three sought out another stranger. Once or twice she stopped to stroke her curly brown hair, hum in thought, then lift an index finger to say: “Yeah, here he is … Wait … No.” The routine would end with a light sip of coffee.

This charade broke when she turned to laugh at a staff member’s joke. By time she turned back the smile snapped to a cold stare magnetized by her bug like glasses.

“So what are you … family, friends?”

“Us?” Sierra said. “Well we’re-“

“Not to each other. I already know what you are. What are you to the patient?”

“Acquaintances,” Sierra answered on behalf of the group.

“It’s poor form to intrude on a sickly patient who isn’t expecting you. If you aren’t related then it would be wrong of me to give you his details.”

“Details?” Rum muttered. “We only want a room number.”

Sierra did her best to pull focus from Rum. “It’s okay … we do know him. See, our friend saved his life. Pulled him from a burning building actually.”

“I’m sure he did,” the receptionist uttered. She peaked around the bums to a gathering line behind. “Looks like you’re causing a blockage.” She bit into a sandwich.

Rum’s face twitched with negative delight. “Then take that bloody sandwich outta your trap.”

She stopped mid-chomp, and laid the sandwich down. “Let’s not make this harder than it is.”

Sierra shoved in. “Sorry about him, he’s just a good for nothing bum.”

“I see there’s a lot of that going round,” the receptionist broke out.

Sierra’s movement froze in an anticipated kind of shock, the overall stillness drew more attention to her twitching eye.

In the silence of a dawning battle, Alex simply wandered away and summoned the elevator. Rum leered in closer, rubbing expectant hands with all the malice of a silent movie villain.

“Find-the-name-bitch,” Sierra leaked out like gas from a pipeline fissure. The receptionist wouldn’t stop waving the match.

There came a holler of impatient cries from the people lined behind. With this sudden on-pour of attention the receptionist’s scour shifted to a smile.

“Please settle down. I understand you’re not familiar with how real work gets done but my job takes time, we can’t all have things handed to us.”

Sierra, shuddering, clenched fists with intent to strike them across that smug little grin. She suddenly found herself unable to move. Alex had pinned both her arms to her sides. He dragged her effortlessly backwards to an open elevator.

Rum grunted at the missed opportunity to watch a fight, rather than fight the fight. Sure enough he followed Alex and Sierra into the elevator.

Sierra broke from her shackles. “Push off, Alex.” She added extra scorn to his name. Elevator door about to close, she could hear the receptionist greeting the next man in queue.

“Sorry about that, sir. I try reason with these people but they don’t understand,” she said.

“Tell me about it. I threw a dollar to one out of pity and wound up ten down.“

The woman laughed wildly.

“So anyway … I’m looking for Mark Earlwin.”

She tapped at the keypad. “Yes, third floor - Room 16. They’re moving him to Grey Oak’s retirement home today.”

Sierra jabbed a damning fist out the closing door. “Stupid tart!” It closed.

The preceding aura of anger became immediately overshadowed by the light ding of elevator music. All crammed together in that bland little box, Alex and Rum stared down at Sierra with all the expectancy of miners waiting for TNT to blow.

“Nice work, Blondie. Great sleuthing,” Rum said. “I guess we’re at a dead end now, can’t say we didn’t try. Finally we can get back to the park - wonder if Len’s found any drink.”

“This isn’t over. We’re not going anywhere. We did all this so we’re finding this ‘Jack Matters’ asshole.”  

Rum face palmed. “Just what do you plan on doing? This place has seven stories. Each room is chock full of sick people. The halls are full of sick people. Damn it Blondie, the alleys around this place are probably full of sick people! We’ll never find him.”  

“I don’t see your point.” She breathed heavily as though her brain lacked the oxygen to see it.

“We’re outta luck. It’s too late, that’s my point.”

She looked to Alex. “And Alex, do you feel the same?”

Alex paused as if contemplating. “We already gave our votes. I think we have to look harder.”

The elevator door opened with a ringing chime, welcoming them to a narrow white hallway. The scene was something different to what they experienced earlier. Gurneys and patients lined the sides, some sitting against the walls in ailing pain or simple fatigue. Not a nurse could be seen.

They stepped into the hall with less than a thought for the people around. Rum lagged in the very rear with a defeated notch to his face. He continued the argument mid-centre for all to see.

“Forget the vote. I want a recount. Alex shouldn’t be included, he’s got too many damn screws loose. The man‘s insane.”

“If trying to help makes me insane then I guess that’s what I am. If your normal then-“

“Look out! He’s throwing it in my face. I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”

Alex huffed for the futility and walked off.

It didn’t stop Rum. “Please don’t turn your back on me. I can’t handle the shame.” Rum sniffed. “That’s why you’re such a stupid weirdo, always saying pointless, stupid things. Freak.”

Sierra checked nearby gurneys for a familiar face. “You can either stand there complaining or lend a hand. Pick out someone and see if it’s our guy – at least pretend you’re doing something.”

“Then you’ll make me pick another, then another. Why should I even bother? Alex is the only one who got a good look at his face.”

“It might jog your memory,” Sierra said, scuttling off to check more gurneys further down the corridor. Alex went with her.

Standing alone, Rum made a half effort to check a gurney by his side. It contained a dead man, left to rot in the halls. “Not him. There, I checked. Can I go?”

Sierra called down. “Look harder, fool!”

“Thought so.” Rum sighed as if building a thought. “Hey Blondie, what if the guy died after the fire?”

“Don’t say that! Stop it, you never take anything seriously.” She immediately turned to check the next gurney down.

Rum didn’t answer. With steady eyes he stared down at the corpse by his side. In a way, he’d grown used to seeing them. He’d even tripped over a few in winter time.

“I thought I was serious,” Rum said. “Death is always serious, I thought.”

Seeing the dead man’s arm slip and dangle out the gurney, Rum placed it back under the blanket. He gave a courtesy nod then continued prattling on with this futile little plan.

It might have been a wasted effort, one that ate up a lot of time and didn’t appear to be going anywhere fast. But it was the only plan they had, even if Alex acted as the only essential participant. They would call him over for the sake of verifying every kind of patient, from the one’s with the tempers to the ones with their bed sheets folded the wrong way up.

A trend began to form. It would start with one or the other summoning Alex over to check a suspect, to which he’d shake his head negatively. After a number of repeats of this there would follow some sort of morale boosting comment, such as: “Get your ass over here y’lanky streak of piss!” At which point Alex would tighten his fists and aim them toward an empty headed old drunk.

Needless to say, there came a certain monotony to the whole experience. Something worsened by the number of different excuses required to carry out this plan. There were only so many reasons to stare at debilitated patients. Their enthusiasm began to die by the time they started telling staff they were ‘looking for a missing purse’ in the burn ward.

Chapter 5

Henry fitted his way into a new pair of trousers, doing so under the covers to avoid drawing attention. The doctor gave him this new clothing. It seemed the reasonable thing to do since paramedics misplaced his original, leaving him in nothing but a patient gown. They were similar to his old clothes, if not two sizes big and bearing a crude odour he couldn’t quite place. A stench hung over it, something like sweet perfume but faded as though someone tried scrubbing it away.

Henry shivered in thought of what might have been behind it. The doctor did say he pulled them from a clothes bin. Whoever wore these before obviously didn’t need them anymore. Judging from the tattered state of the clothing it looked as though the previous owner had lost the wrong fight. Not that Henry’s old clothes were in any better condition. The prior owner could have been homeless like Henry. He may even have stayed in this room, or this bed.

Fully dressed in his new attire Henry lay back in patience for the doctor’s next visit. Until then, he flipped up his hood, and intended to stay that way until those gawking eyes stopped looking at him. He couldn’t handle all this, being in this room, constantly watched under suspicion. His pulse raced in hope for the doctor to stick to his word. Should a way out of this present itself, Henry would take it in a snap.