A Vagrant Story (16 page)

Alex didn’t care about fire. He only saw the agent look away. In his distraction, Alex rushed in, snapping the gun aside. The agent struggled to keep hold so Alex pinned it down. And that was an error of judgment.

The gun let off a bang. The agent gasped a cough of blood. It didn’t take long. Alex could see the senses drifting from the man’s eyes. Stumbling to his knees, he fell downward into Alex.

In some respect Alex cradled him, though he might have merely been too shocked to step aside. He’d only just noticed his finger on the trigger, let alone grasped the action. He stepped back and let the agent fall flat on his stomach.

Alex tossed the revolver into rising flame. In his panicked stillness another emotional power vacuum took place. His anger vanished. His hands stopped shaking. A cold, dread filled fizzle in his brain replaced both. He backed away, each step shaking his thoughts like effervescent soda. He cupped his head as if to stop the bad screams bursting out. He tried to think over them, but couldn’t concentrate with Leon’s screaming.

“He’s dead – he’s dead! Look at him, he’s dead!” He fell to his knees. “Not again … not again!“ He cupped his own head and began weeping to himself.

Alex found his arms twitching forward as if reaching down to offer help. He found his legs moving backward toward the broken window. His mind reassured him he needed to escape before the fire spread. It forgot to include Leon in those plans. That was the last they saw of one another.

Alex ran away, and he kept on running. He didn’t go back to college and he didn’t stop anywhere for last goodbyes. Amidst his fleeing he merely slipped and fell to a gutter. It was so quiet he decided to hide there. At some point he forgot how to leave.

***

Alex put the CD in his back pocket. He couldn’t concentrate within these brooding walls. The cold wind poked him like an old accomplice reminding him of past deeds committed.

He’d leave, and be through with this place. Let it haunt him in memory alone.

He figured since he came here first by the front door, he’d leave here last by the back. Seemed fitting, it was after all the only exit still shaped like a door.

He found himself in the lane annexed to the one they entered by. A single lamppost buzzed, light bouncing on and off against high stone walls. Taking a step toward the Old Folk’s home, he stopped when a muffled female cry sounded from behind. Clamping his eyes in frustration he vocally damned the trouble he could see coming.

Wheeling around, he saw two men in blue hoodies holding a woman. One held her mouth shut as both stared expectantly for this stranger to pass on his way. It seemed fate bore a little more in store after all.

The freehanded man pointed at Alex. “Keep walking, exit’s right there.”

In immediate dismissal, Alex turned to face them in full.

“Don’t be a hero, guy,” the same thug said. “We got more boys coming any minuet now.”

“Were those ‘boys’ dressed same as you? Already met them, and no … they won’t be,” Alex replied.

Both men startled at those words. The women let out a shriek, indicating the hand over her mouth loosened some.

“He’s talking shit. Get outta here before we bust up your ugly face.”

“Can’t. I became committed roughly around the time your friends threw a syringe in my face. I’ll have to stay until you let that woman go.”

Spurred by his words, the woman kicked back to break her oppressor’s hold. About to run, the second man grabbed her.

Alex acted on queue. Driving in like a cannonball Alex broke the man’s hold, pushing him to the ground.

The woman broke out, fisting the accomplice back. Trying to escape, she toiled with the second man enough to avoid his grip. It took three blows from her handbag to keep him back long enough. The thugs stood still, in their defeat watching her disappear into the shadowed lane.

They could have chased, but the grounded thug yielded a halt. Standing up, he stared at Alex with steely eyes.

“You psycho freak!” the accomplice said. “Forget this prick we gotta go after her.”

“She doesn’t matter. We can’t put her to sleep without the drugs.”

“Just knock her out.”

“Won’t get half as much if her face is busted, and no one’s going to catch me shoving some screaming bitch in my trunk.

“Guess we may as well thank this hero for his help then.”

Alex had stopped listening after the assault. Since jumping back to a safe distance, he found his body heavier, chest wheezing like a sun drenched dog. As he tried to recover for this fight, he realised he hadn’t recovered from the last - a little late now. Side by side the thugs moved in a lazily plotted formation, slowly closing the gap.

For his foes, Alex pulled a deep breath to let his gallantry flare. Their movements slowed to a cautious step. Their eyes widened, wondering what this stranger had in store.

Alex knew what their eyes couldn’t see. No gallantry remained. The deep breath merely prepared his body for an inevitable beating. Heavy panting shattered the charade.

Both thugs grinned in kind.

“Look at this clown, he can hardly stand.”

“Time we taught this lanky piece of piss a lesson.”

The lesson would come hard and fast. So long as he took it the girl would have a chance to escape, no matter how slim. If he ran away now, they could track her easily. So he chose to stay and smiled for his choice. His smile didn’t go unnoticed, and likely made the beating worse.

***

Sierra exited the retirement home last. Shutting the security door, she stepped into the alley with Henry and Rum. Beneath the flickering door light, they grouped for strategy.

Sierra held out the photo. “Looks like we’ll be paying his ex-wife a visit.”

“What’s the matter, phones too overrated?” Rum said.

“Too cold hearted. I wouldn’t dump someone by phone.”

“Then where’s our next stop?”

Like she hadn’t looked yet, Sierra flipped the photo over to check the address. Her grin dropped together with all the muscles in her face. Awash by a sudden loss of colour, she appeared too weak to even hold the photo steady. Tiny words crept from her lips.

“Not there, anywhere but there.”

Rum gawked in observation. “Everything okay? You know that place or something?”

“Is it bad? It can’t be worse than this place,” Henry said. “I don’t think I could handle it.”

“It’s safe, Henry,” Sierra replied. “It’s just … I used to live somewhere in that general area.”

“Well … great,” Henry said. “You can show us the way. Now we’ll be able to walk there in no time.”

“We won’t be walking. It’ll be a few hours by train.”

“Four tickets won’t come cheap. I suppose this is where you pull out your secret bag of cash,” Rum said.

“Not this time. I haven’t robbed anyone since the last job, and I don’t plan to for a while. Call it a Christmas vacation.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Looks like we’ll have to put this hero business on hold and go back to being bums for a while. We’ll just find you a nice street corner to set up shop.”

“You want me to beg? Sorry missy, begging ain’t ever been on this bum’s prerogative. What we need is someone who looks the part, someone people will take pity on. We need a real wimp,” he leered upon Henry, “a dud, even.”

Henry didn’t respond. He was too busy staring down a shadowed turn off leading around back of the ruins.

“Hey dud, you listening to me?” Rum asked. “Henry!”

Henry jumped in fright. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No shit. What you looking at anyway?” Rum peered down the alley to see for himself.

“I heard sounds: heavy breathing, groaning. Sounds like its coming this way,” Henry said.

“You’re imagining things. How about you quit imagining things while we’re in dark isolated places, okay?”

A horrible wailing shivered Rum into place.

“It’s … the wind,” he said.

The sound of crashing steel thundered from the darkness. A lid off a dustbin wheeled out with a tinny chime, settling to a spinning halt next to Sierra’s feet.

Footfalls followed, slowly dragging themselves closer one after another. Pained moans reverberated off the stone alley walls, growing nearer until a shaded figure could be seen limping toward them.

Henry gawked down in wide-eyed horror. “Z-zombie?”

“Why not? This place looks like it was hit by a meteor,” Sierra remarked.

“Or in the far more likely scenario…” a worn voice spoke from the shadows. Alex emerged, about ready to tumble to his knees - he didn’t. He continued limping his way to them. The others appeared so shocked by this reception they momentarily hesitated to help.

Satisfied with his position, Alex slid to the ground, resting back on the retirement home wall. He lifted chin so they could inspect the damages. Lips fat, eyes swollen, nose bleeding. These were only the visible injuries yet he smiled all the same.

Sierra made an effort to dab his face, but hesitated should she cause further pain. “Somebody jumped you. We were warned about this place, you shouldn’t have gone out alone.”

“I’m fine … thanks.”

“How are you feeling? Can you walk?”

“Walked here didn’t I? Had a run in with our two friends from the bridge, and their friends. They did what they could then left. I’m sure it’s better than it looks.”

“Then you haven’t seen how it looks,” Rum said.

Alex searched through his pocket, taking out a case of pills. Popping one into his mouth he put the rest away.

“That’s the stuff you got from the hospital. Will it help with this?” Sierra asked.

“Not with this, but it’ll help.”

“Even beaten to a pulp he speaks in riddles.” Rum rubbed the beaten man’s scalp playfully. “There was me saying a good old beating would straighten that head of yours. Guess I was wrong.”

“The pills are for my cold. Last thing I need right now is a coughing fit.” He clutched his chest as though the words alone brought pain.   

“What you need is a doctor,” Sierra said

“I’ve had enough pills thrown in my face for one day. I’ll feel better once we get moving.”

“Moving is the last thing you need. It’s getting late anyway. We should just find some place to rest and call it a night.”

“I’m all for that idea,” Rum added.

A chilly wind poured through the alley. Dragged by the current, a single snowflake danced before Rum’s eyes, twirling then falling to melt. Like soldiers behind their flag bearer a flurry followed in kind.

“Good timing, this is all we need. Looks like it could stick too. Not much in the humour for sleeping in this hellhole regardless of the snow, you up for it?” Rum said.

“Didn’t much plan on staying anyway,” Sierra replied. “Let’s see, two guys tried to sell us drugs the moment we entered, then Alex got the shit kicked out of him, and then we overhear two retirement home attendants plotting bank robberies. Something tells me I don’t want to stay for breakfast. We’ll sleep someplace safer.”

“Retirement home attendants plotting bank robberies? Could you elaborate?” Alex mumbled.

“You don’t want to know,” Sierra said.

Rum pointed at the white van. “Just remember that van. Next time you see it will be on the news.”

“Forget I asked.”

“Already have. Isn’t it about time we got out of this kip of a shit hole? But where to go? In this weather what we need is a hostel.”

Henry stepped up, still visibly shaken from the earlier zombie warning. “There should be a hostel near here … at least I think there should be. There’s a really religious community out this way. Every year they open bedding for the homeless around Christmas.”

Rum shrugged. “Worth a shot. Any direction’s fine so long as it’s away from this place.”

“I know what you mean,” Henry replied. “It’s so dark everywhere – really gives off some bad vibes.”

Rum thumped Henry over the head. “Bad vibes. Just keep your trap shut, dud.”

Chapter 11

The first order of business was to clear the area in question without a knife in the back. A task made ever harder by a certain old drunken bum with a stash of stolen booze sticking out his pockets.

By time they did find way to a safer area that most dreaded of hours fell upon them, the pub rush home. Slowly but surely cars began filling the roads. The aggressive drive through tactics of some drivers suggested they were as keen to pass this neighbourhood as the four bums.