Minions

by Addison, Garrett

  In this train of thought it made perfect sense that a standard universal reply would be more than appropriate. She quickly typed a message and addressed it to everyone she knew, thanking them for their support and kind words. She wondered for a time if Tim himself would have done a better job, drawing on some government standard template. She then added a post-script that her email server had been overwhelmed and hit the ‘Send’ button before her usual tendency to proof-read set in. Simon obliged and she returned to the more taxing task of preparing a more personal thank-you note for ‘Cat’.

  Chapter - 23.

  Technically hospital wasn’t really a holiday, but the Malcolm it served the same purpose. It allowed him to rest and in doing so he might just avert an episode. No matter how committed he was, he did not want to live with the implications of failing health. Not again.

  The use of the hospital was a risk, and a risk that was not taken lightly. It violated each of his simple rules. Don’t draw attention. Don’t go on record. Avoid the police. Instead, he’d made a spectacle of himself, was now on file in the public health system and indeed the public mental health system, and on this occasion had actually invited specific Police involvement. It was not ideal by any means, but it was necessary. Malcolm didn’t dare dwell on what might have happened. Instead, he concentrated on the upside of his gamble. He’d effectively hidden in plain view, implicitly acquired a watertight alibi, and got some chemically induced rest. He would have liked to gloat.

  Now though, he was out of hospital, rested, grounded and ready to resume his work. He picked up from where he left off.

  Chapter - 24.

  Ikel intercepted Devlin mid corridor en-route to the bunker. “Come on. We’re going on a field trip!” he said exuberantly. Devlin followed Ikel out of the building.

  “Care to tell me where we’re heading?” asked Devlin as he walked beside Ikel along the footpath.

  “Hang on,” Ikel replied, nodding to Conrad as they passed him, leaning against a car, presumably his own. “I’ll tell you when we get to my car,” Ikel said softly, glancing back over his shoulder at Conrad.

  Albert was asleep in front of Ikel’s car, oblivious to the heavy smell of ammonia that permeated everything. As soon as Ikel laid a single step in the vicinity of his car, Albert appeared aggressively, but he quickly relaxed as soon as he recognised a familiar face. “Anyone we know?”

  “Just one drop off today. We won’t be long.” Ikel unlocked his car and got into his seat, clearly not wanting to mislead Albert that he was interested in any conversation.

  Albert understood. “Maybe later then,” he said, resuming his rest position between puddles after nodding to Devlin.

  “So where are we going?” Devlin asked as soon as they were inside the car and mobile.

  “LastGasp’ is pretty much automated,” Ikel began. “But if contact is lost, then we need to manually drop off messages. And that’s what we’re doing now. I didn’t want to say anything before with that idiot Conrad sniffing around.”

  “Do we know who the member is, or just who we are visiting? Or is this how we get a definitive identification, only when we ask the recipient?”

  “I see your point, but it’s not like that. Once the member is dead, we can identify them without too much guesswork on our part. LastGasp’ is technically like a bank, and so we get notified as soon as someone dies so that their assets and accounts can be frozen.”

  “So who died?”

  Ikel wriggled forward in his seat and reached inside the back of his jacket, removing a large envelope. “Everything I know is in this. I remember the address and the woman’s name, but nothin’ else. You’ll have to read it yourself.”

  Devlin examined the contents of the envelope immediately, curious as he was. He found a single page describing the message recipient’s contact details, and what invariably represented the message itself, formatted simply as text but on LastGasp’ letterhead. After the first few paragraphs, he found himself skim reading. He returned the pages to the envelope and restored his attention to the traffic as it flashed past. “How often do you do this anyway?”

  “It depends really. I might get out of the office every day for a week and then I’ll have a week when I’m like a rat in a cage and stuck in the office.”

  “What’s so good about doing this? Other than giving you the opportunity to play race car driver in your toy here.”

  Ikel smiled at Devlin directly. “That. And the sympathy fucks.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “It’s another undocumented perk of LastGasp’. In fact, because I’m such a great guy, I’ll let you have this one, or do this one.” No matter how he phrased it, the innuendo remained. “I’m not promising anything of course, but if you’re there when she needs someone to hold, then who are we to stand in the way!”

  “Thanks. But I’m sure that nothing will happen.”

  “Suit yourself. I know you’re not gay based on the way that you looked at Lori last night, so don’t be too quick to rule it out. Just in case, I’ll drop you off and leave you to it for a while.”

  Devlin was starting to feel a little pressure, irrespective of whether he felt that anything sexual would come of the task of delivering a message. “Keep the motor running Ikel. I don’t think that hand delivering a letter will take too long!”

  “It’s never as simple as handing over a piece of paper. They’ll need to talk about it.”

  “Fine,” Devlin said with a measure of reluctance. “What do I say?”

  “Just read the message for background. You’ll be fine.”

  Devlin re-read the message, this time a little slower. He quickly gathered what were perhaps the important aspects of the message content to allow him to meet the recipient, a woman, Tania Wilson, who was obviously someone’s much loved little sister. There was nothing particularly confessional, or even interesting other than a series of recollections and memories which might strike a chord with someone with a shared interest. Lacking that background, Devlin felt like someone sitting in on the eulogy at a stranger’s funeral.

  The end of their journey was marked with Ikel’s tyres screeching to a halt. “I’ll give you an hour, but ring me if you need longer… Stud!”

  Devlin raised his eyebrows to Ikel. He returned the papers to the envelope and got out of the car leaving Ikel to speed off immediately. He sauntered to the subject address, looking to waste a few minutes here and there if at all possible, certain that nothing would eventuate in spite of Ikel’s best wishes. He looked at his watch and given that he could hear movement from inside the home, he figured that he’d wasted enough time. He rang the door-bell and waited.

  Chapter - 25.

  Tania Wilson was surprised to hear the bell ring. She’d never been a morning person and everyone knew to give her a wide berth, typically until well after lunch. Everyone except her brother. He’d described it as ‘poking the bear’ and he’d revelled in tormenting his sister with early morning wake-up calls for as long as either of them could remember. The door chime initially made her think of a new means of retaliation, until it struck her that it couldn’t possibly be Tim. A shadow was re-cast on her temporarily heightened mood. She opened the door and did her best to greet her visitor simply but nicely and with a manner that did not reflect her disappointment. “Hello.”

  “Good morning,” the visitor began, looking her over as subtly and best he could through the security screen. “My name is Devlin Bennett. You don’t know me, but I work for an organisation known as ‘LastGasp’. Our recent emails to you have bounced.”

  “So?” Tania couldn’t help herself. It was not her time of the day, and rapidly approaching her time of the month, and she was in no mood to be annoyed with something inconsequential. She remembered periodically receiving an email from some organisation calling itself LastGasp’, but she’d habitually deleted it as spam given that she didn’t know the sender.

  “Well yes. I appreciate that you’ve recently lost someo
ne special. LastGasp’ provides a service whereby people can create messages to be sent posthumously, and I have one such message for you.”

  “You’re not a Jehovah’s witness are you?”

  “No, I’m not.” The guy smiled, clearly not offended at the accusation. “Can I come in to explain further?”

  “Just give me the message,” Tania ordered on seeing the envelope in the man’s hand.

  “Of course.” The guy fumbled before removing some papers from the envelope, wincing briefly as he gave himself a small paper-cut in the process.

  Tania opened the screen door a little and accepted the papers cautiously. “Anything else?” she asked, looking at the man sucking his finger.

  “No, that’s all.” He reached inside his jacket and presented a business card, “In case you need anything else, here’s my card.”

  Tania accepted the card but was more interested in returning to her solitude. The man had been polite enough, but she didn’t feel up to extending any great effort of hospitality to a stranger. She closed the door and watched the guy wander off looking at his watch.

  Privacy restored, Tania returned to her lounge room. She watched her visitor through her window and saw him pause kerbside before heading to the coffee-shop. The guy didn’t look like a stalker, though perhaps it might be possible to watch her from there. She knew how bad the coffee was and thought he would only be there a little while, unless he was decidedly committed.

  Tania sat on her old couch, took a deep breath and began to read the papers that she’d been given by the guy from LastGasp’. Her suspicion as to the authenticity of the message was put to rest immediately. There was no doubt it was a letter from Tim. She soon found herself alternating between many emotions simultaneously. Above all else, she enjoyed the joy of his presence, coupled with the disappointment that this letter would be as close as she’d ever get to time with him.

  She also felt more than a tinge of guilt at her treatment of the visitor. The least she could have done was offer a half decent cup of coffee. There was still time for her to demonstrate a little social conscience. She quickly grabbed her phone and called the guy’s number from his business card. She kept it brief, opting to say her apology in person, but in any case she wanted him to stay where he was.

  * * *

  The phone-call from Tania surprised Devlin no end. He’d been hopeful only that the remainder of the hour until he’d be picked up wouldn’t drag on. Waiting in the suburban café his hopes had largely been dashed by cheap coffee and the omnipresent stench of a smoker who’d casually decided to hover around him. Only after the first taste of did he notice and understand why he was the only one drinking coffee. He’d suffered through four mouthfuls and was on the cusp of either leaving or ordering a canned drink of some description; something sweet to offset the residual bitterness in his mouth. Tania’s call removed his indecision.

  Unlike the café suggested by Conrad, this one was not attracting the ‘on-the-way-to-work’ set of people, or the coffee gourmands either for that matter. There were several other patrons seated in the shaded courtyard overlooking the park facing Tania’s home. There was a guy sitting on his own in the corner who shamelessly enjoyed the expression of distaste that Devlin demonstrated with his beverage, but the others were more reserved, or at least more subdued in their reaction. The only upside of this particular café was its proximity to the park. He savoured the fresh smells of the gardens that returned after the departure of the smoker.

  Devlin watched Tania cross the road towards him and then into the café and he stood as she approached his table. She waved to the woman at the counter and made some gesture which appeared to be known between them before she joined him at his table. He could see the residual redness around her eyes, but also that there was a brightness about her face he had not seen when they’d spoken at her door. He knew the letter had been the cause of both the tears barely masked in her eyes, and the happiness that now radiated from her. In delivering the message, Devlin was oddly proud for the minor role he’d played in the transformation of this woman. Only now did he notice how pretty she was. Devlin was daydreaming while looking at her until she spoke.

  “Thanks for seeing me again, Devlin. I just wanted to say ‘Thank-you’.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue before continuing. “My brother, Tim, and I were close, and I’ve been a bit of a wreck lately without him. Only after I read Tim’s letter did I realise that you were doing me, and Tim, a service. And for the record, it’s a service for which I’m inordinately appreciative.”

  Devlin sat quietly while Tania shared everything that she’d managed to glean from the letter. Most of what she described was just recapping on what he himself had read, but Tania also managed to extract subtleties that he had overlooked. He felt the joy that he’d help deliver until he waved to Ikel when he saw his car pull up. He said his farewells to Tania, and set off.

  * * *

  Malcolm Venn was not a coffee drinker, not now anyway. A long time ago he was a habitual espresso man, but as his consumption gradually increased, so did his periods of being what his mother described innocently as being ‘unwell’. His appearance of psychological stability was every bit as important as it was with other sufferers of mental illness. Caffeine in the volumes that he once consumed had influenced his behaviour, only marginally, but more than enough to alter other people’s perceptions of him from being a ‘happy eccentric’ to ‘erratically unstable’. Had his medical history not been a factor, of course, the caffeine would just as easily have seen him be described as ‘particularly eccentric’, but once mental illness is a consideration, it has a nasty habit of forever tainting perceptions.

  His serious coffee drinking days were behind him, but Malcolm still enjoyed caffeine in moderation, typically by way of a daily can of Coke. He also appreciated the look of satisfaction on the face of a coffee drinker when they partook of their regular hit, particularly their first for the day. This time, however, there was no militant reaction to bad coffee in the park-side café. This was no surprise to Malcolm as he’d seen others, even that very same morning, refuse to pay for their cups. The way that they’d screwed up their faces in revulsion spoke volumes of the inadequacy of the bean blend, the hygiene of the machine, or the incompetency of the coffee maker herself. It all just added to the entertainment as he sat watching Tania’s home, waiting for when she’d finally make an appearance after hiding herself away. He couldn’t believe his luck when not only did he see her, but she even sat at the table right beside him, close enough for him to hear everything she said as she spoke to someone, clearly one of Glen’s new monkeys.

  It was nice for Tim to lift Tania’s spirits temporarily. She was going to need it.

  Chapter - 26.

  Devlin was contentedly silent in the car on the way back to the office. His expectations of ‘making a difference’ had been far more grandiose, but oddly there was something amazing about how Glen’s prediction had played out. He felt he had indeed made a difference, but in fact he’d done almost nothing. He was just the messenger, but he felt accomplishment just the same.

  “Too bad. Maybe with your next one!” Ikel commented. “I can tell a freshly fucked glow when I see one, and I can see that you didn’t get any!”

  Devlin smiled. “I still feel good though. Are they all like this?”

  “What? Pretty? No, most of the people we hand deliver to are old or ugly, or both. Old people crack me up. They join LastGasp’ knowing full well that their wife or husband couldn’t even turn on a computer, let alone access email, so how is it that they are supposed to get a message? Lori could impress you with the numbers on the proportion of the population that are old and also LastGasp’ members.”

  “Actually, I was referring to whether every message gave you a warm and fuzzy feeling.”

  “Fuck knows,” Ikel replied. “I don’t even read them now. I just get the address, look at the name and fantasise about whether I’m going to get some. It’s not often thoug
h, but only because David gets most of the good ones!”

  “How does that work?”

  “He’s a bit of a dark horse. I think he uses the Research Interface to track down pictures to improve his odds. He takes the best ones and leaves me the rest.”

  “You said David was crap with the Research Interface.”

  “Actually, I said David was crap at identifying people. But there’s no other explanation for the volume of nice ones he gets. Maybe he’s good when he’s got an incentive.”

  Relative quiet returned to the car, periodically interspersed with almost comical outbursts from Ikel directed at other drivers. Devlin was oddly calm. Not only was he getting used to Ikel’s driving, but he was also feeling remarkably comfortable with Ikel as a person and a friend. “I think I’m ready to tell you why I killed him.”

  “OK then.”

  “I didn’t mean to,” Devlin began, planning his words carefully.

  “Dev’, I’m not a jury. Say what you want.”

  “OK. I didn’t mean to kill the guy, at least not initially. I’d known the guy since school and when he made a flippant comment, initially I just wanted to confront him, but then I lost my cool. There was a struggle and before I knew it we were throwing each other up against a fence. I didn’t even notice the thunderstorm until WHAM! I felt like I’d been hit by a truck.

  “He happened to be touching the fence at the time of the strike. His convulsion bounced him off the fence and threw him backwards quite a way, and I was knocked out for a while just from the proximity of the strike. Somewhere in all of this, presumably in his convulsion with the shock, the knife, his knife, must have been thrown into the air, only to hit him when it landed. What are the odds of that happening, let alone the odds of it piercing his heart?

  “When I came to, I saw he was dead and I was shaken up obviously, and not really happy, but not disappointed either. I would have been content to close the page on that chapter of my life, and I did. Until the police did some fishing around and came up with what they described as a ‘body of evidence’ that I wanted him dead.”