The Yellow Pill (10 page)

Jin sat up with a
start. It was cold and he was wet. The broken sunscreen had done little to keep
the dripping of some broken pipe off him, and he swore as he struggled to his
feet, his stiff joints complaining with flashes of pain.

He
pulled his soaked jacked closer, thrusting his hands under his armpits to try
and keep warm. He knew he had to get moving or he would stay cold until he got
a fever.

His
clothes clung to his body, his pants slapping uncomfortably against his ankles.
His head already started to pound from the lack of the Yellow Pill. Now he was
all out again and knew Big T would want him to do another round to pay for a
couple more. He’d no choice. It was do the work, or go without.

As
usual, he suppressed the voice, telling him to stop now, before it was too
late. After a while it went away, leaving a stronger headache in its wake. The
voice always belonged to Frey.
Oh, that’s right. I was looking for Frey
yesterday. Then I couldn’t find her and I… and I sat down for a while.

He
looked around himself. He knew where he was. He passed the familiar stores and
the tiny sewer opening where he and Frey had hid when they had still been small
enough to fit.

Before
he knew it, he was staring up at the tall black building of the orphanage. He
hadn’t been here in a long time. But where else could she be? He had looked
everywhere.
Father Patrick will know where
she’s at.
He wondered if Father Patrick even wanted to speak to him after all this
time.
Only one way to find out.

He
hammered the door and heard a window screech open shortly after. Jin leaned
back and looked up to see Kirk lean out the window.

The
boy squinted into the darkness. “Who is it?” He yelled.

“Kirk!
It’s Jin! Open the door, its damn cold!”

“You
swore!” Kirk yelled back, slamming the window shut. Jin hoped Kirk wouldn’t leave
him standing outside.

The
door opened a crack. Jin shoved it inwards, making Kirk loose his balance and
fall on his bony behind. Jin locked all the familiar locks as if it had been
yesterday.

Kirk
jumped to his feet and pointed at Jin. “You swore!” He yelled again before
running off, his bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor. Jin shuddered
as he remembered he had also run barefoot once.

There were
several doors on each level, but he passed them all, wondering if Father
Patrick still stayed at the top floor. He knocked on the tattered doorframe and
waited until he heard a mumbled reply to enter.

Father
Patrick was bandaging the arm of a little girl. Her cheeks were wet from
crying, and her big, puffy eyes looked up at Jin. Father Patrick barely glanced
at him. “Now, this is to be kept dry, and stay on. I don’t want to see you
picking at the stitches to show the others, is that clear?” The little girl
sniffed and nodded. He gave her a warm smile. “Alright then. Off you go.”

She
bounded off, and Jin was reminded of how simple things could be in a child’s
world, even when everything around you looked like it did.

Jin
stood in the doorway, suddenly feeling like six years old again. Father Patrick
leaned back. Sat there and just looked at him. Jin knew there was no fooling
him. He could see what Jin had become, even if it was still early on and the
signs weren’t great.

After
some time the old man just gave a big sigh and stood up. There was a blanket
over the back of the chair and he held it out to Jin. “Take off your cloths and
wrap yourself in that. You’ll catch a cold otherwise.” Father Patrick moved to
the door. “I’ll go get us some tea.” He left Jin standing there, trying to
remember why he had come. He didn’t deserve
the mans
pity.

But he
still stripped and gratefully wrapped the big blanket around himself. It was
scratchy as hell, just as it always been and he took a strange comfort in that.

It only
took a few minutes before he was back with two chipped and mismatching cups,
and a big pot of light brown tea. He felt the warmth spread into his skin,
holding the cup closer to his frozen face to cherish the heat. His headache was
receding and he was relaxing. He looked up at Father Patrick over the rim of
the cup. “Thank you,” Jin said.

Father
Patrick grunted as he put down the pot. “You know you’re always welcome here,
Jin. I tell all of you that.”

“Yes…
but not when we’re-“

“Which
you’re not. Not right now anyway.”

That
was one of the rules. You could always come back to visit you foster family
whenever you wanted, but you had to be sober.

“We’ve
missed you.”

Jin
didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing for a while. He sipped his
tea, his thumb stroking the edge. “So… how’re the kids doing?”

“Good.
Better than I would’ve thought, since food is even more scares than normal.” He
was silent for some time. “By the way, Jin. You haven’t seen Tim around, have
you?”

“No. I
haven’t.”

“He’s
usually not gone this long.” He shook his head before bringing the cup to his
lips. “He’s probably doing just fine, but let me know if you see him, okay?”

Jin
nodded.
Tim, that little rascal.
Tim was
much like him when he had been a boy. Running around were he shouldn’t, talking
to people he shouldn’t bee talking to. “So you’ve got enough food, then?”

Father
Patrick grunted. “If only she would listen to what others told her once in a
while.”

Jin
smiled a crooked smile at the table. “Yeah, she’s something, eh?”

Father
Patrick smiled and nodded. “She truly has a big heart, but I keep telling her
not to put herself in danger! She won’t listen. I know the risks she takes,
that daredevil.”

Jin
chose not to enlighten Father Patrick on exactly how she had gotten most of the
food. Better not to. “So you’ve heard from her?” He sighed in relief, not
waiting for a response. “I’ve looked everywhere for days. Where is she?”

Father
Patrick shook his head with a frown. “I haven’t seen her... And she hasn’t been
with you?”

Jin
leaned back. “Ah, no, I thought… I thought I she might have passed through
here.” His thumb pressed against the chipped edge and he bit his lip. “She’s
bond to be helping some poor bugger somewhere.” He didn’t voice his worries. He
could see Father Patrick was worried already. “Don’t worry. She’s off doing
another mission somewhere. You know how she is. I’ll go look at the scrap
yard,” Jin said, preparing to put his tea down, shuddering at the thought at
pulling his wet clothing back on.

Father
Patrick held up a hand to stop him. “You’re not going anywhere in soaked
clothes and shuddering from cold. Stay the night, in the morning they’ll be dry
and you won’t go get sick, and I won’t have to worry that you have.” He poured
another tea for Jin and he relaxed, the warmth stretching to every corner of
his body.

Jin
couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this…

He felt dry and
warm. He felt better than he had in a very long time. He suspected there had
been something in the tea. His headache was almost gone, and for the first time
in weeks he didn’t feel the burning longing for the Yellow Pill that had always
been his constant companion since a while back.

Jin
walked down the narrow street, wrecked cars lining the sidewalk. A couple of
hunching shapes squatted beyond them. Other than that, it was unusually quiet.
He strolled past a broken doorway and sidestepped the waterfall escalating down
the broken drainpipes.

When
he reached the outskirts of the scrap yard, he paused, looking out over the
waves of trash littering the vast space, but saw no sign of her. He worked his
way to the top of the closest pile, wanting to get a better view. But there was
nothing to see. Jin yelled up at anyone he passed. “Hey! You’ve seen a girl
around here? Short? Dark hair?”
No-one
had. Jin walked
through the whole yard, asking after Frey with no success.

As he
was walking up the spiraling road to the floor to their Volvo, he tried not to
get his hopes up. It didn’t work. When he finally reached their car and pulled
the door open it was only to find it empty.

It was
well into the night and the wariness hit him like it had been lying in wait. He
slid into the car and closed the door softly, resting his forehead against the
steering wheel.

Frey…
where the hell are you
?!

“You
sure? About this tall…” Jin said behind his mask, holding his hand at chest
height.

The
man with the gas mask shook his head again, his voice distorted by the heavy
mask. “Not seen her.”

Jin
sighed and dropped his arm again. “Okay. Thanks anyway.” He moved on to the
next street merchant. He had covered the entire China Town in two days, walking
from store to store, even asking around at the crowded night markets with no
success.

The
steam and fog pressed out from the cracked ground thicker than usual. He rubbed
his brow deciding to head back to Father Patrick. He’d promised to keep him
updated since the old man wasn’t able to leave the orphanage.

This
wasn’t like Frey. Sure, she might still be mad at him, but she had never been
this hard to find. And not having spoken to Father Patrick for so long, that
just wasn’t like her…

Jin
pushed at his temple, trying to deny the fact that his headaches were coming
back stronger than before.

Jin
turned his feet towards the orphanage before his subconscious mind could steer
him towards the dark alleyways. Right now he was in control, but he’d no idea
how long it would last. Sooner or later the pull would be too great.

Jin
loosened his gasmask as he walked out of China Town. He clapped his fingers
behind his head as he walked, pressing his thumbs into the base of his skull,
easing the pressure from his temples.

He
looked up as the sky lit up from the third drop for that day. Shivers crept up
his spine as he saw the package float to the ground, the booming music echoing
between the buildings.

Not
knowing why, he suddenly felt very uneasy as he watched it disappear behind the
building. Jin couldn’t shake the strange feeling that had been building up
inside him for the last few days.

It
felt like someone was watching him…

Jin knocked. When
there was no response he put his ear to it. The room seemed to be empty. He
didn’t try the handle. Jin turned and headed for the common room. He could hear
the children chattering loudly, and when he opened the door, a wave of noise
hit him. Father Patrick was handing out the food to the wild kids. Jin snuck
out again, not wanting to be offered any food.

Jin
made a silent promise to start pulling his weight, just like Frey. He should
have done it long ago and felt guilty he hadn’t contributed anything to the
place and the man who had practically raised him.

It was easy to
forget how old Father Patrick was, the way he was running around, seeming to be
everywhere at once. Jin gratefully sipped the tea, hoping it would reduce his
pounding headache this time as well.

“Jin.
You know as well as I that reducing the pain won’t do any good as long as you
don’t stop taking the pill.”

“I
haven’t touched one since-”

“Permanently.”

Jin
didn’t answer. He couldn’t. By just mentioning the Yellow Pill, his body
responded by fuming up
the famish
for it. His hands
started shaking, creating small waves in the surface of the tea. The thought of
not taking it again broke through his mind like a hammer shattering glass. Jin
forced the mug down, the bottom clattering loudly as it hit the tabletop. He
clutched his head, trying to still the pounding headache.

He
felt the old man put his hand over his. “You’ve done so well so far. You’re
resisting
it Jin,” he said, squeezing his hand. “I
know
you can do it. So does
Frey. Now calm down. Drink, it will help the headache, and the craving.”

Jin
had closed his eyes tight. With his free hand he lifted the cup again, choking
down a burning swallow. He stayed in the darkness until the room stopped
spinning. Jin carefully opened his eyes and glanced at the old man. “I’m
sorry…”

“None
of that. I’ve told you already. This is your home, and you are welcome to come
back to it anytime you want. Especially-” Father Patrick said, rising his index
finger between them. “
when
you
want,
and need
help.” He let his hand fall back to the table. “Now, drink and then eat up. And
when you’re done, I want you to get some rest. You can use my bed, I’ll be down
on the first floor doing repair work.”

“I can
help you.”

“You
can help me by resting,” he said.

It
wasn’t the first time, and definitely not the last time Father Patrick made you
feel like a little kid again. Jin did as he was told.

Jin found Father
Patrick at the rooftop. He was sorting through a pile of boxes in one of the
corners.

“What’re
you doing?”

Father
Patrick tossed the blanket he had been holding back among the other things. He
sighed. “I thought maybe she might have come by and left something here. A
note, or just moved something around…”

“But?”

The
old man sighed again. “Nothing. She hasn’t been here. I even checked the way
the blanket was folded…”

“I
still have places to check.” Jin forced up a smile. “Don’t worry. You know how
she is.”

The
old man wasn’t smiling. “Yes I do… and so do you, Jin.” He shook his head
slowly. “That’s why I’m worried. She doesn't stay out of touch this long, she
just doesn't.”

Jin
wanted to shake his head in denial. He wanted to push off the wall and walk
right out of there, telling Father Patrick he worried too much, that she was
fine, that she would walk through the doors the very next day.

But he
didn’t. He couldn’t…

She
just didn’t do things like this. It wasn’t like her at all.

“She
was staring to ask questions again…” Father Patrick whispered. Jin thought he
might say more, but he stopped there. 

“Yeah…”
Jin said. “I told her…” He got a strange feeling that he ought to pick his
words carefully. There was no one else but them there, but he still got the
sensation that someone was watching. “We had a fight. She left me sitting with…
a lot on my mind. I’m sure she talked to you about it as well.”

Father
Patrick nodded slowly. “I didn’t… didn’t want to hear it.” He looked towards
the blanket again.

Jin
put a hand on the old man’s shoulder. He was a head taller than his foster
father, but he still felt like a child around the man. Now he was a child
comforting his father. “Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

The wrinkled
woman shook her head. “Not seen anyone like that.” She had yellow froth at the
corner of her mouth, and her skin was tight over her bony cheeks. He moved on
and tried to ignore the roiling feeling in his stomach.

The
woman grabbed at his wrist. “You’ve got any on you? Yellow Pill as payment?”
She croaked, desperation in her voice. “The normal one, without the black
numbers…”

Jin
tore his wrist away from her claws-like fingers and hurried away when she
grabbed at him again. “I’ve got nothing.”
Normal one?
Crazy
old hag
.
Jin tried not to think of the fact that it might be him
looking like that soon. He knew the tea would do little to still the urge soon,
and then the craving might be too great.

He
shook his head, forcing his thoughts to Frey. He was going to find her. She had
to be around somewhere, she just
had
to be.

Jin closed the
car door, shutting out the world outside. Or, that’s what he wanted to think,
but now he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes at his back
anywhere he went now. He wondered if it might be a side effect from the drug…

Last
time he and Frey had been sitting in their car together she had seemed so sad.
He regretted not asking why.

Tears
stung his eyes as his shoulders started to shake. He covered his face, sobbing.

He
wanted her arms around him, comforting him. He wanted her to tell him it was
going to be all right, that he wasn’t too far gone, that he would bounce back
like he always did with everything else.

But
the facts crashed into him like a giant wave.

She
had been taken away like so many others… and he hadn’t done anything to stop
it.