+++

‘Who?’

‘Da what?’

‘Diu.’

Trig took a moment to see that the collapsed mass was still alive…well, his hand spasmed, that was a sign of something…then finally responded. ‘It’s him, the runner from last night. The one who disappeared.’

‘This is the guy?’ asked Cav, pointing at the guy’s feet. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Same clothes, same face…I think.’

‘You think?’

‘I don’t know though, it was dark, and I only saw him for a second close up…’

‘So you’re not sure?’

‘Forget sure,’ shouted Salvo, rushing over to the fallen man, who appeared to be drooling out diluted blood, ‘we’ve gotta help him, get him to a hospital.’

‘We don’t even know who he is…’ started Cav, rooted to his spot by the railings.

‘Stop fucking messing…get over here.’

‘…or what’s behind that door.’

‘And you, Trig.’

Hearing his own name out loud, Trig broke out of the memory recall loop and walked over to the injured man. No, not just the man, the runner he’d seen kidnapped the night before. Yes, it was the same guy, he was sure of it now, and he was even more sure that it had been a kidnapping. But all that could wait until later. First, amateur first aid time.

‘Is he breathing?’ Trig asked, pulling down the zip of the sports jacket and focusing on the man’s chest.

‘I think so.’

Trig focused on the man’s chest, waiting to see if it was rising up and down. There did seem to be some slight movement, but it wasn’t strong.

‘Can’t see any wounds,’ replied Salvo, suddenly sounding as sober as a real ambulance medic. ‘At least not external ones. Maybe on the inside…if that’s blood coming out of his mouth.’

‘Looks pretty faint.’

‘Yeah, could be he bit his tongue. Or his gum’s cut.’

‘What about his head?’

‘Nothing.’ Salvo pulled the man upwards as gently as she could, checking the rear of his skull. ‘Wait…there’s a mark on the back of his neck, could be a bruise. I’m not sure. Fuck, I don’t what I’m doing…do we lift him? Should I put his head back down?’

‘Maybe wake him up first.’

‘What if he resists?’

‘Waking up?’

‘I mean, what if his head’s been messed with and he thinks we’re trying to hurt him? He might try to punch us or…’

‘I don’t know.’

‘…stab us with keys or something.’

‘Don’t think he’s got the energy for that.’

‘You sure?’

‘At least that’s what it looks like. I mean, he’s not moving much.’

‘Fuck, he might be dying. Quick, check his pulse.’

‘Neck or wrist?’

‘I don’t know, any, just make sure he’s not dead.’

Trig put his hand on the man’s neck and waited for the throbbing beat to become detectable. Nothing. Either his sense of touch had evaporated or the guy had no pulse.

‘Nothing?’ asked Salvo, eyeballs moon-like.

‘I don’t know…maybe.’

‘Focus.’

‘Or maybe I’m doing it wrong. Wrong technique or something. Honestly, I can’t even feel my own pulse most of the time.’

‘Check his heartbeat then. No, wait, what am I saying? I’ve checked that already. Ah, no, hang on, he’s breathing, I can see his chest moving. Forget his pulse. No wait, what…it’s gone again. He’s stopped breathing. His chest, it’s-…no, it’s moving, it’s back. He is breathing. Fuck, Trig, this is way too stressful…feels like my head’s in a thousand different places.’

‘It’s okay, he’s not dead.’

‘No fucking idea what to do…none of us…we’re just-…’

Trig put his hand gently on her shoulder, but not gently enough to stop her from doing a full spasm in response.

‘Fuck, don’t do that.’

‘Sorry, I was just trying to…’

‘Almost gave me a coronary. Jesus, Trig…’

‘…relax you. Okay, no more touching.’

‘Good.’

‘All I was gonna say was he’s got a heartbeat, he’s breathing…let’s just focus on trying to wake him up first, then figure out what’s next.’

‘Fuck, where’s Cav?’ Salvo looked to the left and the right, seeing nothing but graffiti calling the police fuckheads. ‘He didn’t leave, did he?’

‘No, he wouldn’t…’

‘Where the fuck is he then?’

Trig looked over towards the trees beyond the underpass, then slowly panned back to the maintenance door. ‘In there…’

‘What?’

‘He could’ve gone inside the door.’

‘To do what?’

‘I don’t know. Find the other guy.’

‘What other guy?’

‘The bin bag one.’

Salvo turned on the dried-out river, told it to fuck off, then spun back to the graffiti on the maintenance door. ‘He’s real?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

‘Fuck, then he’ll get assaulted too. Shit, Trig, we’ve gotta go in there after him, see if he’s-…

There was a clanging noise from behind the door.

Both Trig and Salvo turned and breathed out in mutual relief when they saw Cav strolling out with a big Californian grin on his face. At the same moment, there was some mumbling noises beneath them. The runner…he was conscious again. Though not exactly clear-eyed. Fuck, not clear-eyed at all. Pupils almost the same size as his corneas. And then they were gone completely as his eyelids clammed up again.

‘Must’ve been injected with something,’ muttered Trig, checking for needle marks on the guys neck.

‘Alien chloroform,’ answered Cav, peering down from above.

‘Or the regular human version.’

‘Nah, too boring. It’s alien-made, definitely.’

‘Alien…’

‘Okay, enough theory,’ said Salvo, shaking the man’s shoulders with minimum force. ‘We need to get him on his feet. Or get him conscious so we can tell him we’re gonna get him on his feet.’

‘Wait…’ Trig held up a hand, pointing at the wall. ‘What’s in there, Cav? What did you see?’

‘Nothing. A tunnel to a door on the other side of the road. Some green lights attached to the wall, a ladder going nowhere. That’s it.’

‘No sign of anyone else?’

‘Nope.’

Trig looked down at the green stain, its colour seemingly fading by the hour. ‘But there was definitely someone there last night. I saw him.’

‘Well, he ain’t there now. Unless he’s wearing a pipe costume.’

‘He must’ve run away.’

‘What, beat up this guy, and left him inside?’

‘But…there are no wounds…so that doesn’t make sense either.’

‘He probably just got stuck inside,’ said Salvo, checking the path both ways for late night stragglers, ‘and somehow injured himself…psychologically.’

‘You mean he freaked out when he thought he was trapped?’

‘Like a panic attack, yeah.’

‘Could be claustrophobia. It is pretty cramped in there. And the door’s not easy to move.’ Cav paused, looking back at the open doorway. ‘But then…why could he get it open now, after one whole day?’

‘We can ask him later,’ said Salvo, returning to nurse mode and lightly slapping the man on the cheeks. ‘Hey…it’s okay…you’re out of the tunnel.’

The man’s eyelids rose like a slab covering an ancient burial tomb, the effort literally making him groan in pain. Several times, it was too much for him and they slid back down, but he was persistent and kept trying until, finally, he was staring up at the half-moon and where the stars would’ve been if the light pollution levels hadn’t been off the charts.

Fortunately, his pupils were normal size again.

‘I’m out…’ he said, adjusting to the faces of Trig and Salvo, and flinching a bit when he saw Cav looming higher up behind them.

‘You fell on the ground,’ said Salvo, voice as soft as a backroom librarian. ‘We didn’t know what to do.’

‘People…’

‘Yes, we are people.’

‘Cantonese…’

All three friends exchanged looks, with Salvo the only one to attempt a response. ‘Err…we should probably get you to the hospital. It’s not too far, just a little bit past the station.’

The man’s eyes doubled in size. ‘Station…’

‘Yes, the MTR Station. Dai Yat Sing.’

‘Do you know where you are?’ asked Trig, waving his hand as non-threateningly as he could over the man’s face.

‘Can’t remember…’

‘He’s wet.’

‘What?’

Salvo turned off the volume and gestured towards her left hand, which was resting on the man’s side. It wasn’t easy to see with all the shadows, but it was definitely a darker patch than the shirt around it. Trig put his hand next to Salvo’s and felt the dampness underneath.

‘Is he hurt?’ asked Cav, leaning down.

‘I’m too scared to look.’

‘What is it? Blood?’

Salvo went back to man’s face and asked him if he’d been attacked. The man opened his mouth and let out more drool, followed by some noise that may or may not have been words.

‘I think he’s losing consciousness again.’

‘Quick, slap him.’

‘Trig, check under his shirt, see if he’s bleeding.’

‘Slap him first.’

‘Cav, shut up. Trig, the shirt.’

Trig did as instructed and lifted up the bottom of the man’s shirt. It was too dark to make out the colour of the liquid on his skin, but there didn’t seem to be any visible wound. At least no cuts or slashes.

‘What the hell is it?’ asked Cav, watching Trig run his finger through the liquid. ‘Oil? Syrup?’

‘It’s green,’ said Trig, taking out his phone and lighting up his finger. ‘Like the stain on the ground.’

‘The alien blood?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Diu, oi sing yan. Fucking greys.’

+++

After trying several times to tempt the injured man back to the waking world, Salvo said it was no good, they’d have to lift him up and carry him over to the hospital themselves.

Neither Cav nor Trig put up any complaints as they’d pretty much come to the same conclusion. The only amendment Cav did make was to take a taxi, which was essentially meaningless as there were no taxi ranks nearby and almost zero chance that one would be passing by such an isolated road this late at night.

‘Besides,’ said Salvo, ‘the driver might think this guy is drunk and refuse to take us.’

‘They don’t give a shit, they need the cash.’

‘Yeah, the single dollar from here to the hospital.’

‘It’s more than a dollar.’

‘Not much more.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Salvo, raising her voice to ‘finality’ level. ‘We’re not taking a taxi. We’re carrying him, like we just decided we would a minute ago.’

‘I know that,’ continued Cav, raising his hands, ‘I’m just saying taxi drivers don’t mind taking drunks.’

‘Great.’

‘Long as they’re not already being sick when they get in.’

‘Can we pick him up now?’

‘Like, physically sick.’

‘Cav…’

‘Yeah, course, go for it. What are you waiting for?’

Getting the man on his feet was easier than expected as, despite being slightly taller than both Trig and Cav, he was as thin as a broom.

With two of them on the arms, and one on the waist, they tried out a few different carrying techniques before settling on the ‘helping a drunk guy to walk’ method. This meant the person holding the man’s waist, Cav in this instance, became redundant, which was just as well as he was still curious about the door.

Apparently, in typical Cav fashion, sometime between declaring nothing to be behind the door and picking up the injured runner, he’d decided that there had to be something there after all, and they should leave the door slightly ajar in case they wanted to come back and check.

‘You mean when the cops come and check,’ said Salvo, adjusting the man’s arm position on her shoulder.

‘Fuck that, we’re not calling them.’

‘We have to, this guy may have been attacked.’

‘They don’t care.’

‘Cav…’

‘It’s true. They don’t.’

‘If we don’t call them, the doctors at the hospital will. And they’ll probably want to get a statement from us.’

‘Okay, then we dump him outside the hospital and leave.’

Salvo stopped halfway up the steps to the overpass road, forcing Trig on the guy’s other arm to stop too. ‘We?’

‘When we get there.’

‘You’re not even fucking helping to carry.’

‘Cos there’s not enough room.’

Salvo lifted the man’s arm up straight, offering Cav her position.

‘I’ll switch when you get tired. Anyway, I’m not saying ditch him here, we’ll get him to the hospital, and then just put him on a bench outside the entrance or something. Wait for one of the doctors to come out for a cigarette…they’ll take care of him.’

‘We’re not leaving him outside,’ replied Salvo, flipping her voice to headmaster mode. ‘Are we, Trig?’

‘I guess not.’

‘See?’

Cav shook his head. ‘Guess not isn’t exactly a strong answer. It means he also doesn’t wanna call the police, but feels like he has to cos you’re forcing us to.’

Salvo put the man’s weight back on her shoulder and resumed walking up the steps. ‘You’re such a callous prick sometimes.’

‘Callous?’

‘More than sometimes.’

‘I’m a fucking anarcho-communist, kai zee. I love collectivism, humanism, all that shit. I write letters to prisoners and…I gave money to that homeless guy…hundred dollar note. Callous prick? Fuck off.’

‘Maybe we should just focus on getting him to the hospital,’ cut in Trig, pointing to the road on the right. ‘This way’s quicker…I think.’

‘I’ll follow you,’ replied Salvo, turning her face away from Cav.

‘Cav?’

‘Whatever.’

+++

The three of them kept going, passing the new hotel with most of its lights off on the corner and the Japanese supermarket wedged in on the ground floor underneath. Cav suggested putting the runner inside and calling the reception staff, but was overruled once again.

After that, they fell into makeshift silence, apart from the occasional noise coming from the injured runner. It was strange, it wasn’t Cantonese, but didn’t sound like meaningless drivel either. There was some attempt at communication going on, possibly from the subconscious realm. Or the even more sub part beyond it.

A few night owls passed by, either on foot, bicycle or in a zombie-like, drunken daze, and the closer they got to the MTR station, the more of these types appeared.

For some reason, not a single one of them felt concerned or curious about the three youngsters carrying an unconscious man through the streets at two in the morning, or if they did, they hid it well.

And Trig probably wouldn’t have noticed anyway as the physical effort of carrying a man farther than eight hundred metres was sobering him up, and the more sober he got, the more he started thinking about work in the morning. And as soon as he thought the word morning, he realised it was already there, and in a few hours he’d be behind the counter at Zinc Burger getting yelled at by strangers.

Jesus, it was gonna be a long day.

Part of him wanted to complain about it openly, but he knew that Salvo was in a bad mood and Cav would probably use it as an excuse to talk about dumping the guy on the street again, so he kept his mouth shut.

And they kept walking.

But then they reached the entrance to Dai Yat Sing MTR station, which was closed, and all that proceeded to happen anyway. Cav told them to stop, Salvo told him they were almost there, and Trig said his shoulder was starting to feel sore.

‘Seriously, we don’t need to take him all the way…’

‘Yes, we’ve heard your opinion, Stalin.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Heard that too.’

‘Maybe we could take a short rest,’ interrupted Trig, but it was a hopeless cause.

‘No, serious, fuck off. Comparing me to a fascist? Fucking midget prick who killed millions versus me saying we don’t have to take a guy all the way to the fucking hospital bed. Diu, you’re such a drama queen.’

‘Ha, that’s nice. Last hour all you’ve done is moan, same thing every time, and I’m the drama queen.’

‘Not moaning, suggesting.’

‘Let’s dump him, let’s dump him, let’s dump him. Guys, I’m tired from not helping at all, let’s dump him. Yeah, maybe when it’s an amoeba in your brain, but all I hear coming out is moan, moan, moan, moan. While we do all the fucking work.’

‘Amoeba? Fuck off, I’m helping, I’m the one keeping his waist steady.’ Cav gestured towards his left hand, which was hovering near the runner’s waist, but not actually touching it. ‘See? Without me he’d have dragged you over ages ago.’

‘Oh yeah, very useful.  Fucking fantasist. All those grand ideas about helping people and oh, I write letters to prisoners, I give money to homeless people, and then, soon as there’s actually someone who needs physical, tangible help, you just stand there doing fuck all. Letting Trig and me take all the fucking burden.’

‘Kai zee…’

‘Telling us to ditch the poor guy in the gutter cos you might have to see the police. In a hospital. Is that your idea of helping?’

‘Jesus fucking-…’ Cav threw out his arms, in the opposite direction from Salvo’s face. ‘You’re the fantasist. I didn’t say don’t help him, I didn’t say gutter either, all I’m saying is-…ah, forget it, you’re not even listening. Too busy making shit up.’

‘Maybe we should start walking again,’ tried Trig, but it was like talking to a pair of slippers.

‘Okay, let’s listen then. Let’s stand here while our shoulders go numb and listen to Comrade Cav list out his suggestions. Come on then. It’s only another three hundred metres to the hospital, but fuck that, where can we ditch this guy? Right here on the pavement? The bush over there?’

‘Sorry, this is what you call listening?’

‘Prop him up against the MTR gates? No, I’m just trying to guess what nonsense you’re gonna say, help you out a bit. Save you from using up all of your whining energy.’

‘Okay, if you’ll just calm down for one second. All I actually said was…we don’t have to take him all the way to the hospital bed. Outside the entrance is fine, next to the ambulance, there are doctors going in and out all the time. They’ll obviously see him and take him inside.’

‘Obviously…’

‘What, you think they won’t?’

Salvo breathed out loud, looking past Cav towards the junction at the end of the road.

‘I have an idea,’ said Trig, trying to ignore the glare of an uncle walking past with a lit cigarette tucked behind his ear. ‘Why don’t we keep walking and stop talking?’

‘Fine by me. Assuming she can stand to walk next to Stalin.’

‘Cav…’

‘Her words.’

‘It’s okay, Trig,’ said Salvo, keeping Cav out of her field of vision. ‘Let him moan. I’m too tired to keep arguing.’

The runner groaned something that sounded almost like speech, making both Trig and Salvo jump a bit and almost drop him in the process.

‘Looks like he’s coming to,’ noted Cav, folding his arms. ‘Maybe if we give him a minute, he can walk to the hospital by himself.’

‘No,’ said Salvo sharply, readjusting the man on her shoulder. ‘We’re gonna help him get there.’

‘Okay. Fine.’

‘It’s just down the road, not that far now.’ Salvo looked at Cav, her face rigid. ‘Keep your hand on his waist. Don’t want him toppling over.’

‘Funny.’

‘You ready, Trig?’

My shoulder isn’t.

I was ready ten minutes ago.

If you two children are done squabbling?

They were all options, but he ticked off all of them, instead grunting to show mild disapproval and then adding ‘sure’ so he didn’t come across as a confused gorilla.