+++

The walls of the hospital emergency ward weren’t as green and depressing as Trig remembered them, but they were still pretty bleak.

Maybe they’d painted them?

Or maybe his memory was playing very simple tricks on him.

It was possible. The last time he was there had been with his dad. The doctor had come out and told him, ‘sorry sir, you can’t have any more painkillers,’ and his dad had responded by punching a hole in the wall. One of the green ones. Like the one he was staring at right now.

‘You in a trance?’

Trig snapped out of his thoughts, re-focusing on Salvo next to him. ‘Just checking out the wall.’

‘Okay.’

She stared forward at the wall too, ignoring the green-ness and reading the medical posters at the side. Trig knew she was reading them as he could hear her muttering the words. It made sense, she probably had no history with the colour green. No history with hospitals either. Far as he knew.

They both sat in silence for a while, waiting for the doctor to come out. Despite a relatively tame final plea from Cav at the main entrance, they’d taken the injured runner all the way into reception and explained what happened. Luckily, the nurses bought the ‘collapsed on the street’ story and didn’t mention anything about calling the police. Probably because there were no external injuries on the man’s body, and…well, neither of them was an expert on the law, but they guessed the man would have to wake up and confirm their story first.

Cav probably would’ve claimed some kind of legal expertise and filled them in, but he’d left before they came inside. Apparently, he’d gone much farther than he intended, and now he had to go home and think about things.

This was basically code for I’m gonna go home and sulk, which is what he always did when he didn’t have control of a situation, yet neither of them said anything.

What was the point?

It would just lead to more arguments and neither of them had the energy for that. They barely had the energy to sit on the waiting room seats.

Besides, Cav had attempted a ‘half sorry’ before leaving, which was unusual for him, so maybe things weren’t that gloomy.

‘You think we actually need to stay here?’ asked Salvo, finishing the last of the medical posters with her arms folded.

‘Don’t know.’

‘The doctor didn’t explicitly tell us to.’

‘He probably thought we were the guy’s family or relatives or something.’

‘Or friends.’

‘Right.’

Salvo stretched out her arms, doing what looked like a fake yawn. ‘Maybe we should just leave.’

‘Could do.’

‘Or would that look suspicious?’

‘Maybe.’

‘But then they didn’t say anything about the cops. And we haven’t actually done anything wrong.’

‘Nope.’

Salvo looked at the seats around them. Seventy-five per cent of them were empty, and the rest were taken up by sleeping drunks and elderly people in hospital pyjamas. ‘This place is depressing.’

‘It’s a hospital.’

‘All the posters are about disease and illness.’

‘Err…’

‘And the people look fucking miserable.’

‘Or tired.’

‘Miserably fucking tired.’ Salvo turned, putting a hand on Trig’s knee. ‘I don’t think we should stay here much longer.’

‘Agreed.’

‘How about we do another fifteen minutes then leave?’

‘Why not ten?’

‘Too callous. Fifteen.’

Trig raised an eyebrow at the word callous then audibly breathed out. ‘That’s a powerful five minutes.’

‘Fifteen.’

‘You do know I have to work early tomorrow.’

‘Okay, fine. Fourteen.’

Trig folded his arms, before noticing that Salvo had folded hers too, and quickly put them back by his side. However, that was far too awkward so he pulled out his phone and checked the news instead.

‘Anything new?’

‘Not much.’

‘The cops doing anything?’

‘Apart from general fuckery, nope.’

She nodded, going back to the posters. Then she remembered they were all about illness and disease and gave up. As replacement filler, she got up and took some of the leaflets from the nurses’ desk and started reading them. Not such a good idea. Turned out they were the same material as the posters, only in a more digestible form. Finally, she caved to the inevitable and took out her phone.

Fourteen minutes passed.

Fifteen minutes.

Twenty.

Neither of them moved.

Another uncle in standard-issue pyjamas hobbled into the waiting room and, despite most of the seats being empty, sat down next to Salvo.

Almost immediately, he started to cough, and, each time he did, he would place his hand on Salvo’s thigh as if to steady himself.

She tried to wince her way through it, as well as edge closer to Trig’s seat, but there really wasn’t much space to move into. The twenty-seventh time the uncle did it, she snapped.

‘Look, could you stop groping my thigh, please?’

The uncle coughed, louder than the other times, and put his hand even higher up her thigh. As Gowron once said, there can be only one response to that: Salvo smacking the uncle in the head with the back of her hand then following up with a kick to the back of his leg.

‘Leaving,’ she said to Trig, springing out of her seat and heading to the exit, not bothering to look back to see if he was coming after her.

‘Okay,’ said Trig, hypnotised by something on his phone.

A few seconds later, he realised Salvo had gone and hurried outside after her. She was standing next to the please sterilise your hands before entering sign, muttering aggressively to herself.

‘You okay?’

‘That uncle was a fucking perv.’

‘Huh? Which uncle?’

‘Sitting next to me, wandering hands. Fucking cheek of it.’

‘What did he do?’

‘Pervy uncle things.’

‘In there?’

‘Ah, forget it, Trig. It’s done now. I got him pretty good on the head anyway. And the back of the leg. Fucking sleaze.’ She rubbed her hands together, even though it wasn’t cold. ‘Could use another drink though. River beer?’

Trig yawned, looking back at his phone. ‘Sorry, Sav…but I really need to head back. I have to work in three hours.’

‘Can I come?’ she asked, eyes still fixed on the entrance.

‘What, to my place?’

‘Don’t wanna go back home, too hyped. Besides, your couch is cosy. And your sister’s quite funny…in a deadpan kind of way.’

‘Funny to strangers.’

‘Of course, that’s what all family members are like.’

‘Even yours?’

‘Nah, except them, obviously. They don’t even try to be nice.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘Shut up, you’ve met them.’

‘Once.’

‘And they were rude, right? Tried to guilt you into giving them Zinc Burger coupons. And when you said, ‘no, I can’t,’ they started calling you selfish dogfish.’

‘I don’t remember that.’

‘Yeah, it was after you left. Anyway, point is, your sister’s nice to my face, and funny, so please, comrade, is it okay if I sleep on your couch tonight?’

‘My eyes are starting to close.’

‘Is that a yes?’

Trig nodded, using the tap to sterilise his hands [and almost wash his face] before leaving. As a counterpoint, Salvo just glared at it.

+++

Without a 185cm, unconscious stranger on their shoulders, the two of them took much less time to get back across the river to Shek Mun.

There was a brief moment on the bridge, when Trig looked right and saw the underpass in the near distance, where he thought about prodding Salvo in the side and saying, ‘hey, the maintenance door’s still open, why don’t we go and check it out?’ but, ultimately, his body just didn’t have enough stamina left to follow through.

And as for his brain…well…the whole thing felt like a bank of fog fascism had set up a forever camp and the only thing he could see through the gaps in the particles were images of him being berated by customers at Zinc Burger.

A bicycle bell rang, making him jump right into its path. Luckily, Salvo was still in a state of relative alertness and managed to pull him out of harm’s way.

‘Fucking drunk,’ the cyclist shouted over his shoulder, and it was a fair point.

‘You look like a reanimated salaryman,’ said Salvo, deadpan.

‘Tired.’

‘Jumping in front of bikes won’t help. Or it might, actually.’ She took the trademark super-sized rainbow scrunchie out of her hair and held it in front of his face. ‘Or I could do this.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Keeping you awake.’

‘I can’t see.’

‘Look into the colours, think of energetic things.’

‘Okay, okay, I’m awake. Get it off.’ Trig put up a hand and pushed the scrunchie away. ‘Still can’t believe you wore that thing outside.’

‘I was in a rush.’

‘Looks like an auntie’s tai chi headband.’

‘Exactly the look I was going for.’

Trig was too tired to laugh, so he grunted instead.

The effect was pretty much the same.

+++

Due to the exact same thing happening the night before, it wasn’t much of a surprise to Trig when he opened the front door and found his sister still on the couch at 4am, watching another darts tournament.

What was a surprise was the person sitting next to her.

‘Ah Lan…’ said the incredibly tanned man of around 50, his eyes lighting up when he saw Salvo lurking behind Trig. ‘Just in time to share this shōchū one of my clients gave me. Is that your girlfriend?’

‘Quiet,’ said Trig’s sister, adding a hushing noise.

‘Quiet yourself, those darts don’t talk, do they?’

Trig took off his shoes and shielded Salvo as she edged in beside him. ‘This is my friend, Salvo. She was gonna sleep on the couch, but…’

‘Couch? Sorry, that’s my domain for tonight. I guess she’ll have to share the bed with you.’

Trig went into the kitchen, which was only a metre away from the door, and shouted without sound at the sink.

Fucking terroriser.

Tanned cunt.

Crawling out of your fucking tar pit.

Get out. Get out. Go. Get the fuck out of here.

Please.

Taking a few deep, noiseless breaths, he flicked on the kettle then came back out into the living room and asked Salvo if she wanted a hot drink.

‘Maybe I should go home,’ she said, still stuck by the door.

‘Don’t be stupid, it’s late,’ said Trig’s dad, standing up and spreading his arms like a religious guru. ‘If my son here is too selfish to give up space on his bed then, no problem, you can share the couch with me. Promise I won’t snore.’

‘We’ll be fine in my room,’ said Trig, walking between his dad and Salvo and giving her the emergency exit face.

‘It’s okay, I can just go back…there’s a minibus near the station, it won’t take that long.’

‘No need.’

‘Ah Lan…what about the shōchū here?’

‘Not interested.’

‘Pour you and your girl a quick glass?’

‘Good night.’

‘Fucking little-…’ muttered his dad, abandoning the guru pose. ‘All this time and you’d let your dad sit here and drink alone?’

Trig came back in and stood up to full height, letting go of his Zinc Burger training and giving his dad all the shit he’d never had the courage to give him before in one, implacable look. Maybe ten years earlier, even five, his dad could have put him down, but not now.

‘You got something you wanna say, mumbles?’

Trig bit down on the words LEECHY FUCKING CUNT and turned to Salvo. ‘I’ll take the sleeping bag, you take the bed. Okay?’

She nodded, glancing at Trig’s sister, who didn’t seem to be registering any of this. Must’ve been the invisible wire running from the darts tournament directly to her eyeballs.

‘Monster fucking ingratitude,’ said Trig’s dad, sitting back down on the couch and drinking straight from the shōchū bottle. ‘Raised that little shit the first eight years of his life…the hardest years…and what do I get? Not interested in shōchū. Good night.’ He twisted up his mouth, losing himself momentarily in the past before un-twisting and putting a hand on his daughter’s knee. ‘Still got my little princess though…’

‘Quiet…’

‘…who is now my little queen. How’s your job going? They given you a raise yet?’

‘Dad, they’re still playing.’

‘Or a promotion?’

‘Shut up.’

‘Yeah, yeah. I know. Darts.’ He breathed out, took in more shōchū. ‘Which one of these fatties is winning?’

+++

Trig laid out the sleeping bag on his sister’s never used yoga mat and tried to get comfortable, while Salvo pretty much fell straight into his bed. There were about a thousand questions she had about Trig’s dad, mostly because he never really talked about him much, but she didn’t ask any of them.

Instead, she asked if Cav had gone back to his old job again.

‘What?’

‘Raw speculation based on tonight’s evidence. Has he?’

Trig rotated onto his stomach and put his face sideways on the pillow, half-looking up at Salvo. ‘I’m not supposed to say.’

‘That means he has.’

‘You guessed that, I didn’t tell you.’

‘Why didn’t he tell me?’

‘I don’t know. Embarrassment?’

‘But he told you?’

‘Not really. I saw him there a few weeks ago. Caught him by surprise.’

‘Is that true?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Did you really see him there, or did he just tell you direct…by the river earlier?’

Trig shifted slightly onto his side so he could get a better view of Salvo’s head on his usual pillow. He laughed when he saw she had his sister’s orange hairclip still on her head. ‘You’d make a good lie detector.’

‘That means he told you. And no I wouldn’t. I’m not sceptical enough…’

‘No?’

‘…only when it comes to Cav.’

‘But a sceptic wouldn’t have believed my green stain story. You did.’

‘Actually…’ She stopped, drifting off towards the wall opposite.

‘What, you didn’t?’

‘Nah, I’m joking. I believed you. Besides, your story was so weird it had to be true. I mean, it either happened or you were on mushrooms, and I know you don’t do mushrooms.’

‘Thanks.’

Yawning full width, Salvo fumbled with the orange hairclip, eventually managing to pluck it out and put it on the bedside table. ‘You think that runner guy is gonna be okay?’

‘I guess so.’

‘It was weird though…coming out of that door like that. What do you think happened to him?’

Before Trig could answer, his phone vibrated. Suppressing another yawn, he pulled it out from the charging cable and looked at the screen.

A message from the deserter himself. Time-stamped about half an hour ago. Trig traced his movements all the way back to the hospital, deciding that it must’ve been a delay on Cav’s side.

He clicked on the message, and then on the video that suddenly loaded up beneath it. ‘What the…’

‘Is that Cav?’ asked Salvo, making no attempt to alter her position on the bed.

‘I don’t fucking believe it.’

‘What?’

Trig lifted the phone up and let her take it. She struggled in the dark for a moment then managed to press replay on the video. A whispering voice, presumably Cav’s, described the maintenance door they were seeing. Then forty seconds of jittery darkness. More shots of the door. And that was it.

‘Is he serious?’

‘Did you read the message above?’

Salvo scrolled back up and read it out loud. ‘Outside door again. Waiting for Bin bag man.’

‘I think he’s expecting us to join him,’ said Trig, in the middle of another yawn.

‘Fuck that.’

‘Yup.’

‘It’s almost half four.’

‘And I’ve gotta go to work in about five minutes.’

She handed the phone back down and looked over at the window. ‘It’s not even that dark outside now.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Nothing’s gonna actually happen.’

‘Nope.’

Salvo drifted to the wall opposite, the Beyond The Blue Horizon poster, then lifted her head up and checked the window again. It was definitely getting lighter.

‘Trig?’

‘Hmmm.’

‘Do you think we should go down there?’

‘Nope.’

‘Or call him?’

Trig grunted an attempt at another no but his limit had been reached. Salvo rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling.

Yeah, probably no need to call.

It’s Cav.

The guy who punched a snake.

And it’s nearly sunrise anyway.

He’ll be okay.