A Vagrant Story

by Paul Croasdell

  “I need a drink.”

  Rum and Sierra’s eyes flared for the bright light bulb igniting at the front of their deep, dark minds.

  Sierra grinned wide. “And bottle number four goes to…”

  The irate man took it with less hesitation than the previous two. Rum offered to safe test the drink but the man snatched the bottle with swift veracity. He needed this, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. Following a quick slug back he handed over his own day pass and retired back to the bench.

  Sierra hopped with thanks, and hurried to the machine to purchase the remaining tickets. With everything prepared, she turned back to Rum.

  “Now we wait for Alex and Henry. Hope they get here before the train does.”

  Time ticked slowly. They kept track of time by counting the number of passing trains, which seemed to come at regular five minute intervals. The train they needed wouldn’t come for another while yet. Being bound for the far north end of the city reduced its urgency due to the low number travellers going so far.

  The wait wasn’t entirely uneventful. The chosen three who purchased the whiskey didn’t move on from here. The bag lady uttered mystic curses in the rear corner of the platform. It seemed her three babies grew tired of whiskey so she decided to drown it on herself instead. The man in the business suit lingered about on jelly legs. He would walk away only to appear soon after to hassle young girls waiting for their trains. The angry man, now not so angry, lazed on the bench, occasionally sitting up to thank them for this marvellous reward. The three combined to create a notably drunken ruckus. Sierra and Rum had transformed the station into something of a Saturday night circus.

  This was the scene Alex and Henry came upon after descending the stairwell. Alex paused to take it all in then looked at Sierra and Rum.

  “I see you’ve been busy.”

  Sierra flashed four train tickets like a winning hand of cards. She held out spare change in her other hand. Putting them away, she noticed the bag on Alex’s shoulder.

  “You’ve been busy yourself I see.”

  “This? Someone left it behind in the graveyard. I’ve been looking for something to carry my things so I said what the hell.”

  “Listen to this guy,” Rum said. “At least when I rob something I come out flat and say it. Admit it, you stole it. Looks like high and mighty Alex can’t talk no more.”

  “I didn’t steal it. I plan to return it if I see the man again.”

  “I’ve heard better excuses,” Rum said. “I myself plan on returning a few wallets once I see the owners again.”

  “Like I care if you believe me. You’ll see. That’s all that matters.”

  Sierra rummaged around in her pockets, taking out what looked to be advertisement leaflets of some kind. “Well, before you go handing it back, might as well throw what we can in the bag.”

  Alex held the bag out for her, leaning closer to see what she was putting in. He picked up a leaflet to check. “Family improvement,” he read one, taking up another. “Ten steps to a happier home.” He frowned curiously. “These look like self-help leaflets.”

  “What you doing with those, Blondie?” Rum asked.

  “Cram it. Stick to your own business.”

  She bustled through her own pockets again, this time taking out the suicide note and the photo with the ex-wife’s address on back.

  “Might as well throw these in too,” she said.

  Alex continued holding the bag out patiently. “Anyone else want to dump a few more personal belongings into my bag and tell me it’s none of my business? No? Good.” He zipped it over, slinging it over back.

  “So it’s ‘my bag’ now,” Rum jeered.

  “It’s mine while I have it.”

  “You’re as crooked as I.”

  “I found it unattended. It’s nothing like the things you do. Tell him Henry.”

  “Alex did say at the time he would give it back if he meets the man again,” Henry stated like a fact book. “And he didn’t steal it in the first place. It was all a bit strange actually. The guy took one look at me then ran away in a panic.”

  “That’s not unusual,” Rum replied.

  Henry cringed into himself. He knew Rum wouldn’t go long without making some kind of comment. For the briefest moment he thought of regressing back to his silent self, where Rum would never notice him. So long as he stayed out of the way the old man wouldn’t have opportunities to make fun of him. That briefest of moments passed when he remembered what Alex told him earlier. Henry wouldn’t take Rum’s abuse. Not this time.

  “S-stop! You can’t talk you old … d-drunk.”

  Rum flexed a new forehead wrinkle for each individual word Henry spoke. He didn’t reply immediately, probably due to the ball of anger lodged in his throat, turning his face to a deeper red. Following the due time he needed to let it sink in, Rum clasped his hand and exploded with a threatening fist.

  His next words came in rolling growls. “You … stupid little Dud. You don’t talk that way to me!”

  The fist came down, but not before Henry did. Henry at once threw himself to the ground, hands raised in defence. He shivered down there like a tiny hedgehog caught in headlights, quivering eyes sealed.

  “I’m sorry!” His shriek pierced the subway silence.

  Rum lowered his fist, less from pity and more for humour. Before he could chance another comment, Sierra intruded with her own brand of intimidation.

  She jumped between Henry and Rum, pressing up to the old man’s face. She shoved him away. “Lay off you overgrown child.”

  “Turncoat bitch! Before they came back you were talking shit about Henry. Now you’re sucking up to him again.”

  “I’m not doing this to suck up to him. This is for saying ‘I’m just like you’.”

  “You are just like me.”

  “That’s it!”

  Sierra went straight for the jugular. She followed up by jumping on his back, arms locking round his throat. To break himself out of it Rum stumbled to the ground. The proceeding fight continued in a show of rolling and scuffling, concealed mostly by a cloud of dust from the dirty platform tiles – a real life imitation of a cartoon brawl.

  Henry and Alex watched from the sideline.

  “Remember when we talked about sticking up for yourself?” Alex said to Henry. “You did good, but maybe take it one step at a time.”

  “I think so too. I feel bad, this is all because of me.”

  “I don’t think so, Henry. They’re just trying to work out some emotional issues the only way they know how.”

  “But they always fight like this.”

  “They always have issues.”

  “It’s getting rough, aren’t you going to break them up?”

  “Not this time, Henry. Let them go through with it. Maybe when they realise fighting like this is useless they’ll start using words to communicate their problems.”

  “I know it’s strange, but I sort of like seeing this.”

  “You like seeing two people beat the crap out of each other? I can relate.”

  “No,” Henry protested. “This fighting makes me feel nostalgic. They haven’t fought in so long.”

  “They always fight.”

  “I mean fight like this. Reminds me of times in the subway station near Middle Park, where we used to get our food. Even the layout here reminds me of the one back home.”

  “It’s a subway station, Henry. They’re pretty much the same everywhere. You probably need to get out more.”

  With a momentous easing screech a train pulled into the station. Stopping with a swish, the automatic doors opened and waited.

  Sierra wrestled from Rum’s grip just to get a look. “That’s our train!”

  She hopped straight up through the train door. Alex and Henry followed without question. Rum on the other hand continued scuffling on the ground as though he didn’t register Sierra’s absence. He had closed his eyes to prevent dust blinding. He opened them to find himself wrestling
thin air.

  He sat up dumfounded, and with slow dawning realisation, rushed the closing train door.

  “Wait for me, assholes!”

  Chapter 14

  Rum fell through the closing door, and again nearly when the train kicked into motion. He grabbed a support bar to stabilise himself. Settling on a long empty seat across from the others, he looked at them with relative calm in his eyes.

  “This train is thrashing all over the place. No wonder the seats are empty, it’s an outdated hunk of junk.”

  “It’s probably been a while since you’ve been on a train, you’ll get used to it,” Sierra replied passively.

  “And exactly how long will I have to get used to it?”

  “You mean, how long is the journey?” Sierra rested back and closed her eyes. “A long way from now.”

  “A little clearer please? Probably should have mentioned my stomach goes a little funny when I’m travelling.”

  “Imagine that, Rum actually held back a complaint,” Sierra replied.

  “I’m too tired for your bullshit.”

  “You weren’t tired back there, Rum. You were gunning for a go at me a minute ago. Did I hurt little Rummy wummy?”

  “That’s right. You beat the snot out of me. Well done, now feck off. Wake me when the rides over.”

  “You only got out of bed a while ago!”

  “I’m not into all this travelling, reminds of my working days. Brings back bad memories.”

  “They call that laziness. You’re afraid of hard work.”

  “I’m not afraid of nothing.”

  “Then why don’t you get a job someday? You can go back anytime you want.”

  “We’ve been through this before. I don’t need a job. I don’t care about money. I never want to go back.”

  “So this is you forever. You’re a thick bum and that’s all you ever want to be.”

  “No shit, but if this thick bum wasn’t around you’d all be face up OD’d in a gutter somewhere.”

  “That’s right. We all rely on you. Everything happens because of you.”

  “More than you appreciate. Who looked after you when you were some dumb kid on the street with no one to fix your booboos? Then the moment you get wise you go and kick me in the balls, and that ain’t even a metaphor.”

  “Well what would you do if some creepy old man started following you around all day? Some people might frown on that sort of behaviour.”

  “You calling me a pervert? I taught you the ropes and this is my thanks. You’re a bitch Blondie, a no good backstabbing bitch.”

  “That’s right. I’m a bitch. The only reason I let you stay with us is to feed on your vast treasure trove of knowledge.”

  “You’ve no say in where I stay. You can leave anytime you want. If I’m such a big problem to you then why do you hang around? All you ever do is tell me to shut up anyway!”

  Sierra recoiled into silence. “That’s not true.”

  “It is a little,” Alex interrupted.

  Sierra smacked Alex back out of the argument, where he belonged.

  “I’m not a waste of space, Blondie. Time was you knew that.”

  “I … didn’t mean … I know you’re not a waste of space. It’s your habits I hate.”

  Rum settled back into his seat, and away from his temper. “My habits? I’m a bum, I have bum habits.”

  “You don’t have to be that way. You don’t have to comatose yourself on beer everyday. I want you to lay off the drink … by a little even.”

  “There’s that little girl I used to know, the four foot brat who used to hide my bottles all over Middle Park. I didn’t think she was still around anymore.”

  “She still hides your bottles when you’re too drunk to notice.”

  “I’m happy you told me that.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure, now I know there’s some hundred bottles stashed around Middle Park.”

  “It’s always one track with you. You could just quit and sort yourself out.”

  “Yeah, get a hair cut and put on tie, all so I can stand in front of a mirror looking spick and spam. Except I wouldn’t have a mirror, I’d have a filthy puddle of water and some miserable degenerate staring back at me. Life’s easier with no mirrors and no memories.”

  “You live in nothing but memories, that’s why you live the way you do.”

  “But at least drink helps me forget. You can take the drink away from old Rum, but old Rum won’t go anywhere. It’ll be the same old me with the same old problems, except sober.”

  “Speaking of drink,” Alex interrupted a second time, searching the carrier bag. “These were in the bag when I found it.”

  Rum sat up with renewed interest, as if he could smell what was about to come. Alex held up a six pack of beer. Each can glimmered like a holy grail under carriage lighting. At least that’s how Rum perceived it.

  Rum snatched them like a giddy child.

  “Consider it a late Christmas present, payback for your ‘grand sacrifice’,” Alex said.

  Sierra frowned vehemently at Alex. “This is a really inappropriate time.”

  Alex shrugged wryly. “I needed to lighten the load.” He placed the bag down on the seat to use as a head cushion. “Can’t rest easy with those things inside.”

  “Your logic is astounding.”

  “I think so too!” Rum yelled with glee. “This’ll definitely settle my stomach for the long trip.”

  “I thought you wanted to sleep,” Alex said.

  “Sleep, ignore you - same difference. Beer helps me do both. At least this way cuts the boredom out of public transport.”

  “You should treasure the experience,” Alex said. “All sorts of people use public transport, you never know who you might meet.”

  Chapter 15

  The train screeched to a halt for the next station. Though tossed side to side, Rum showed no signs of unease. So long as his beer didn’t spill he couldn’t care less about his travelling issues. It would be the one new passenger who caused a stir in him.

  A man past middle-age stepped on board, one wobbly leg after the other. He wore a long grey trench coat torn at the ends, and like a downtrodden Santa bore a grey beard thick with grit. There was a face somewhere under those whiskers, and from what little they could see it had been badly burned some time ago. Everything about him indicated vagrancy, that’s why Rum hid his beer cans.

  The man fit the part of a wino, the kind likely to be seen on busy streets shouting randoms at passers bye. They figured this before he spoke.

  The train kicked off again, but the man didn’t sit down. Though many seats were available, he stood on the walkway clutching a handrail, square centre between the group. And he looked at each of them without speaking. He simply stared obtrusively and breathed loudly as if to prevent others from talking.

  The new bum stared mostly at Henry, who in return stared politely forward, and away. Henry had intended to let Sierra and Rum continue talking things out, but this visitor capped that plan. Instead he chose to make small talk with his own group, if only to tune out that intrusive breathing.

  “How long did you say this trip would take, Sierra?”

  “Maybe … a few hours.”

  “Right. That’s a long trip then.”

  The intrusive tramp’s eyes widened with devout interest, facial skin flexing in preparation for the next booming words. “That’s a very long trip!” He spoke in a dialect unfamiliar to their ears. It sounded like a worn devolution of an Irish accent. It was difficult to pin it down while distracted by his two beady eyes bobbing up and down on every word he spoke.

  Henry nodded with the same polite intention to ignore him. He wouldn’t make the same mistake he did back on the bridge, when those two thugs approached. Rum warned him back then to avoid making eye contact with unusual sorts, and this one time he would heed the old man’s advice. It hardly dithered their new guest’s intrusiveness.

  “How long have you four peop
le been on?” the wino asked still.

  Henry now figured the safest way to end this to be to at least answer once. He opened his mouth to reply, but didn’t get the chance.

  “I’ve been on this same carriage for two hours myself, like you know,” the haggard belted loudly. “I was sitting here all on my own until you four people showed up.”

  “You were?” Henry replied. “I thought … we were here … first.”

  “Don‘t bother, y‘stupid dud,” Rum said.

  Henry grit his teeth. He could have cursed himself for answering since he now found himself trapped as mediator. The others were happy to sit back and let him do it.

  “Absolutely! Been here all day now,” the wino exclaimed. “I went for a long train ride over the Christmas. I’m on my way back down now. May even ride back up again for the fun, like you know. Did you enjoy Christmas as much as I did?”

  “It was okay,” Henry replied.

  “Christmas should always be ‘okay’. Never anything less. I’m always happy for Christmas through New Year.”

  “Looks like it.”

  The haggard grinned wide, presenting his gummy toothed mouth. “Always stay cheerful this time of year. I tell you, like you know, this whole holiday I stay smiling. Let it drop and everything else does.”

  “Keep a positive outlook,” Henry muttered.

  “Exactly! Can’t stop to think or else bad thoughts start slipping in … like fire. It’s hot you know.”

  “I guess it is.”

  “Very hot!” the man echoed with greater devotion

  The wino’s eyes drifted away from Henry and to nowhere else. “Should have fixed the ventilation, cleared the mould. The things I could have changed to change the way things are. Fire. It’s hot. Wraps around you, takes over so you can’t move. Stay in it, burning, until bleeping lights come to save you. Cooking flesh. Having your life flash before eyes through fiery goggles. Trapped.”

  Henry began inclining away from the wino somewhere halfway through his little speech. A senselessly drunk tramp could be easily tolerated, not an inanely mad one with skeletons to unload.

  Henry’s next words came with great expectation from the others. “Next carriage?”