Care Factor Zero

by Margaret Clark

  ‘Okay. I don’t get treated very often.’

  ‘I’ll just bet you don’t.’

  He had a sudden awful thought that maybe her money wasn’t honestly acquired, but wisely bit his tongue as they walked round the corner and down another street towards the welcoming big pink plastic icon that symbolised Burgermania.

  They went inside. It was noisy, warm and steamy with bodies and food. A few customers looked with surprise at the young Salvo and the wild-looking girl at his side, then went on eating. It was none of their business. Kevin and Larceny walked up to the counter and gave their orders.

  ‘Eat in or takeaway?’ asked the girl whose picture beamed at them from the wall behind her announcing that she was crew person of the month. Her badge said “Katie”. Katie the Crew Person of the Month, thought Larceny. Was that her fifteen minutes of fame? Andy Warhol had said that everyone on the planet got to have fifteen minutes of fame. So where was hers?

  ‘We’ll eat here,’ said Kevin, as Larceny wondered what you had to do to be crew person of the month. Flog more burgers? Be nice to the customers? Make the most money? Be a team player? But then, who cared? And who wanted to jerk burgers round all day long? Who wanted to be famous anyway?

  Katie was quick. That’s how she got to be crew person, Larceny decided, and as if by magic two burgers, fries and Cokes appeared on the trays. Rummaging in her pocket she found a twenty and passed it over. Katie’s lightning fingers moved across the till keyboard, then she handed over the change.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Larceny pocketed the change, and picked up her tray. Kevin followed her with his tray to a spare table.

  ‘This is a first,’ said Larceny, biting into the thick burger, melted cheese dribbling down her chin.

  ‘A first? Burgermania?’

  ‘No. Having a meal with a rep from God. What’s it like, being a Salvo?’

  ‘It’s exhausting sometimes, but it has its rewards.’

  ‘Yeah? Like what?’

  ‘Like rescuing kids off the streets.’

  ‘Meaning me?’ She looked at him over the top of her burger.

  ‘You. And others.’

  ‘What if I don’t want to be rescued? What if I’m too bad to be saved?’

  ‘You are one of God’s children,’ he said seriously.

  ‘One of God’s children, eh? So. What’s He or She done for me?’ She took a sip of her Coke, watching him warily.

  Kevin considered this carefully. ‘You’re alive, you’re well, you’re in a country where there’re no wars and oppression, you’re —’

  ‘Oh, per-lease. Spare me the sermon, Kev. My life’s a shithole.’

  ‘But it needn’t be like that. If you put your life in God’s care …’

  Larceny banged her Coke down so hard it slopped all over the table.

  ‘Forget it, man. I don’t trust anybody with my life, especially some spirit in the sky who’s done absolutely zip for me so far, except maybe let me find some money in this coat pocket.’

  ‘Maybe you haven’t given God a chance.’

  ‘And maybe God hasn’t given me a chance.’

  She felt the anger bubbling up, the grey mist swirling into her brain. She gripped the cup so hard that it split and the Coke ran in a brown sticky river all over the table top.

  ‘I’m outa here.’ She jumped up, stuffing the last of her chips in her mouth.

  ‘Wait!’

  He was on his feet, coming at her, reaching for her with his hands. She snatched up the umbrella, holding it like a lance, jabbing him back. There was a stunned silence as the diners watched in horror, their forgotten burgers halfway to their lips.

  ‘Larceny. Calm down. Look, just sit here quietly and we’ll talk this through.’

  But the voices were taunting, chanting, now screeching in her head.

  ‘Kill. Kill!’

  She went for his face with the umbrella, belting him with it, wielding it like a sword. He ducked, trying to cover his head with his hands. She was like a mad thing, hitting, striking out with a demented fury as he backed away. His glasses fell off and crunched under her feet as she lunged again.

  ‘Hey. Stop it!’

  A big burly man leapt up from his seat and tried to grab the umbrella from her. She whirled and kicked out at him. Chairs crashed, people screamed as she lashed out blindly, consumed by a red rage that ripped through her, giving her superhuman strength. Kids started crying and people cowered in their seats as they watched her assault with astounded eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’ cried a woman above the din.

  ‘She’s psycho. Probably on drugs,’ said a man, ducking as Larceny crashed through the melee, swiping wildly with the umbrella. It hit a chair and broke in half.

  ‘That’s enough.’

  The big guy grabbed her and pinned her arms behind her back, She struggled, kicked, spat and swore as two cops came charging through the door. Katie had been super quick on the phone. They must’ve been practically cruising past the door! Larceny fought and struggled as hands seized her. The cuffs went on. Suddenly, beaten and defeated she slumped and would have fallen if one of the cops hadn’t caught her. All the anger and rage drained out, and she was just a confused, scared kid.

  ‘What the hell happened here?’ asked the cop, staring at her bent head and then at the chaos round him.

  ‘She’s sick, man. A total psycho,’ said a young guy in the corner. Kids were still wailing as the cops hustled her through the door and out into the street. Kevin followed, wiping bits of burger from his uniform.

  ‘Do you know this young woman?’ asked a cop.

  ‘Yes. Well, I know her name but no personal details. We were having a meal and she suddenly went berserk.’

  Larceny looked at him from under her tangled mane of red hair and blinked. Where was she? She twisted her head and looked down at her hands. What was she doing handcuffed? What had happened? Who was this Salvo?

  Then it came rushing back. The voices. Telling her to kill. Oh, God. Had she killed somebody? Was she truly mad? She looked at Kevin.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t control them any more. The voices. I can’t make them stop. I can’t.’

  She started to cry, great gut-wrenching sobs.

  ‘We’d better get her to hospital,’ said one of the cops. ‘She’s a real nut case. On drugs for sure.’

  They put her in the cop car. Kevin got in beside her and put his arm round her. For once she didn’t flinch away. She was too tired, too scared and too lonely inside.

  ‘I’m here with you,’ he said. ‘You’ll be all right soon. Tell me, has this happened before?’

  Before? thought Larceny dully. A thousand times before. She thought she’d beaten the voices, had them under control. Thought it was the dope she’d choofed, all the psycho drugs they’d given her over the years that had caused the voices. She hadn’t smoked dope for weeks, hadn’t taken her antidepressants, knew she could beat the bloody voices in the end, control her rages. And now this!

  They arrived at Emergency. And it was the Alfred. It seemed ironic that she was being admitted to the very hospital where she’d brought Frantik when he’d got his bad whack. He’d walked out, but would she be able to do the same? They’d pump her full of sedatives then send her back to a psych hospital, more drugs, more shrinks trying to shrink up her brain.

  ‘I’ll stay with her,’ said Kevin, as they took her into a cubicle. ‘I don’t think you need to be here,’ he said to the cops, as one cautiously undid her handcuffs. Fool. Idiot, thought Larceny, looking at the cop underneath her lashes. Did he think she was going to attack him? She didn’t have the strength left to swat a mosquito. A nurse peeled off her coat and took off her shoes. A doctor arrived looking harassed. Wet nights in the big city always brought a multitude of accidents. He had a pedestrian with a head injury, a couple of whiplash victims from back-enders, more road accident victims with lacerations, suspected broken bones and internal bruising, a dru
nk who’d fallen down some stairs, and a kid with second degree burns from falling onto a heater. There was no room, there were no beds, and he was tired. He pulled back her sleeve to inject her with a sedative in case she started performing again and saw the scars.

  ‘Shit!’

  He seldom swore and was seldom shocked. He’d seen it all before. But the multiple scars told their own terrible tale. Kevin sucked in his breath and the two cops looked at each other over Larceny’s head.

  ‘Maybe we should stay,’ said the older one.

  ‘No, she’ll be fine. I’ll sedate her and you can talk to her in the morning,’ said the doctor, noting with professional eyes her waxy pallor and exhausted face. ‘She needs to sleep. We’ll run some blood tests and find out what she’s been using.’

  ‘Nothing,’ mumbled Larceny, but her tongue felt too big for her mouth, and she only managed a weak whimper as the needle slid into her arm.

  When she woke up it was dark. She was in a hospital ward. Someone was snoring in the corner bed, and there was a faint light from the nurses’ station down the hall. Cautiously she turned her head, expecting to find cops and security glaring down at her, but there was no one. Not even Kevin, God’s messenger and willing worker. So much for keeping his word. Larceny’s lips curved contemptuously. She’d let down her guard for two seconds, had a meal with a Salvo, and look what had happened. She’d really lost it. She raised her head and everything spun round. She wasn’t used to medication any more. While she was on loads of antidepressants and modecate she didn’t get angry and the voices went away, but who wanted to go through life doped up to the eyeballs? What the hell was wrong with her?

  She wasn’t schizo. Sir Harold, the old guy in the cream suit, now that was schizo, slipping in and out of reality with delusions that he was the Son of God. That was really schizo. She was normal, except for the voices. Once she got rid of them, she’d be okay. No, not normal; she had a high IQ. Did people with high IQs hear voices in their heads? She’d never thought to ask the shrinks.

  Carefully Larceny sat up, pushed back the covers and swung her legs out of the bed and onto the floor. She sat there for a moment till her head stopped spinning. She knew where her clothes would be: in the narrow cupboard beside the bed. She’d been in enough hospitals to know the routine. The cupboard squeaked as she opened it. In the darkness her searching fingers found her clothes, shoes and the coat. Good. Even her tote bag was there. One of the cops must’ve picked it up, or maybe Kevin. Whatever, it was here safe and sound.

  Amazing. No guards, no nurse on duty. They were either slack, thinking she was out for the count, or busy. She got dressed quietly. She slipped on her running shoes, hoisted her bag over her arm, and crept out the door and along the passage. There were two nurses in the station, one writing something and one on the phone. Bending over double, Larceny slid along the wall, out of their vision. She got to the end of the passage. An elevator? Or the stairs. No choice, an elevator could attract attention. She sneaked down the stairs, holding onto the bannister for support.

  Reaching the next level, she paused for breath. Moans and sighs drifted through the hospital darkness as humans turned and tossed in their restless sleep. Down more stairs. Keeping to the wall, she moved like a shadow to the entrance. The automatic doors slid silently back and she slipped through like a haunted being, ghostly in her long coat, her feet making no sound on the steps.

  Without looking back, she set off up Commercial Road. She’d tried the downside of town before. Now she was heading uptown to whatever fate was going to dish out this time.

  So much for God and the Salvos.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Larceny kept walking and walking. The rain had eased to a fine drizzle. She didn’t know where she was going and she didn’t really care, because there was nowhere to go. Wherever she went she took herself, and there was no escape.

  Her legs ached as she walked along roads, down streets and along more roads. She wasn’t going back to Flinders Street station: every time she hit that place something bad happened. She just wanted to find a hole, crawl into it, and be left alone. She hated herself and hated everyone else.

  Eventually she just couldn’t walk any further and slumped down on a bench in a busy shopping centre. People bustled past, intent on their business, oblivious of the girl in the Drizabone sitting in the drizzling rain. Or, if some of them did see her, they ignored her. They didn’t want to get involved.

  Head down, looking at the swirling water in the gutter, Larceny was aware that the seat moved slightly. Someone had sat down next to her. She slid a glance from under her hood.

  The person was wearing a hooded jacket, jeans and Blundstones. It was hard to tell whether it was a male or female. The person was hunched over, staring at the space between the Blundstones. Suddenly, a quick look was directed at Larceny, catching her unawares. It was a woman.

  ‘Shit of a day,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘A hot soup sort of day.’

  ‘Yeah. Right.’

  Larceny was immediately aware that she hadn’t had breakfast. She looked at her watch. It was past two. Her stomach growled with hunger. She had money, if the hospital crew hadn’t nicked it. She felt in her pocket and her groping fingers found the notes rolled tightly at the bottom. Good. She’d get something to eat.

  Abruptly she stood up. The woman stood up too.

  ‘There’s a good place just down the street,’ she said, as if she could read Larceny’s mind. ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’

  ‘I don’t need —’

  But the woman was striding off without a backward glance. She seemed to be assuming that Larceny would follow her. Well, she could get stuffed, said Larceny’s brain, but her feet unwillingly followed the woman down the street and into a cafe.

  ‘Hang your coat up here,’ said the woman, shedding her jacket and hanging it up on a coat stand. Larceny did the same, and hung the tote bag over the top.

  ‘Over here.’

  She sat down at a table near the window. Larceny followed and sat too. Without the hood hiding her face Larceny could now see that she was younger than she’d first thought, maybe late twenties. She had straight black hair which was obviously dyed because the roots were a mousy brown. She had a nose ring and a series of rings along each ear lobe. Her face, devoid of any cosmetics, was open and friendly. Grey eyes surveyed Larceny calmly.

  ‘Like I said, a shit of a day. They make good pumpkin soup here.’

  The waitress came up to take the order.

  ‘Pumpkin soup, and I’ll have the vegetarian foccacia. Oh, and a mineral water. Thanks.’

  A health freak, thought Larceny, looking at the menu. The pumpkin soup sounded good, but she didn’t want this woman to think she could be easily influenced. She’d make up her own mind, pay for her own food.

  ‘I’ll have the minestrone, um … and the Volcano pizza with double salami, please. And a coffee.’

  ‘Espresso, cappuccino?’

  ‘Just flat white, thanks.’

  ‘And can we have some herb bread too?’ said the woman.

  Larceny noted the “we” and was determined not to eat the herb bread. She looked defiantly at her and saw amusement lurking in the grey eyes.

  ‘So. A bad day to be out in the rain,’ she said. ‘A bad day all round.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Larceny didn’t want to hear about someone else’s problems: she had enough of her own.

  ‘I meant a bad day for you.’

  ‘Huh?’

  Larceny looked wary. What did she mean? How did she know Larceny was having a bad day? Was she a cop? Cops didn’t usually wear nose rings, but then if they were under cover … or was she from a hospital? Or a psych ward?

  ‘You don’t look happy,’ said the woman.

  ‘So? Is that a crime?’

  She shrugged as the waitress put a basket of hot herb bread on the table. The smell made Larceny’s mouth water. The woman took a piece and bit into it, the herb butt
er dribbling onto her chin. She wiped it off with the back of her hand and nudged the basket towards Larceny.

  ‘Have some. It’s good.’

  She looked out the window and kept munching. Larceny fought a quick internal battle and lost. She grabbed a piece and took a huge bite. Often after medication she was ravenous. Most people lost their appetites, but she never did. The bread was delicious. She glanced at the woman but she was still street-gazing, so she took another piece, and yet another. Then the woman looked back.

  ‘I’m Kaz,’ she said.

  Larceny kept quiet. She was sick and tired of telling strangers her name. Telling anyone anything. She stared resolutely at the bread basket.

  ‘You have lovely hair,’ said Kaz. ‘Mine’s always a mess. I’ve tried being blonde, red, and now black. What do you think?’

  ‘Why don’t you leave it? Have your own colour!’

  ‘But it’s so drab. Mousy brown. In my line of work I have to look dramatic.’

  Larceny was sucked in before she realised it. ‘What work?’

  ‘I’m an outreach worker.’

  Larceny tensed.

  ‘Relax. I’m not a psychologist or a social worker. I just cruise round and talk to young people.’

  ‘Sounds like a snack of a job,’ said Larceny sarcastically. She’d met youth workers who’d wanted her to join mental workshops, play netball, do outdoor adventures which were pissy. Some were government ones, some were religious ones attached to churches, but they were all pains in the neck.

  The soup arrived, steaming in thick brown bowls. The pumpkin did look really good, better than the minestrone. Kaz noted her look but didn’t say anything, just started calmly spooning up her soup. They ate in silence.

  Larceny was puzzled. Usually youth workers sort of bubbled idiotically all over her, nervously eager to please, to get her sorted out, to get some gold stars on their Good Works charts. This one was different. This one was laid-back and cool. Kaz was getting to her. By not doing anything she was beginning to really confuse her! No bright, breezy approach. No psychobabble or social work jargon. Nothing.