+++

Trig blinked

Three times

Then checked his surroundings.

Fan of Bing, he was by the river again, dragged like the world’s only effective fridge magnet to something intractable.

Why do I always drag myself here? he thought, mind-tapping the uncle sitting nearby, forcing him onto the bike path, then taking his place on the bench.

The river kept still, hiding sewage and kidnap victims, poor ones.

Don’t I want to go home?

He stood up

Then sat back down as that’s what his legs wanted to do. The sky, the wall, the bike path, the trees, the leaves on the trees, the runners’ clothes and faces, the puma logos, everything turned a pale shade of purple, though only he noticed it.

It can’t come this far, he thought

not in mist form

but it could and did as the mist rose out of the puddle by his shoes, though actually through a non-physical portal that only purple could manipulate, and it kept coming, slowly, wrapping round his knees and his thighs, not in a sexual way, but to communicate more clearly with its comrade

victim

comrade

comrade from beyond the maintenance door

beyond the

+++

Trig opened his eyes seconds before the alarm went off.

The river, the bench, the purple mist all vanished into the ether-fold, usurped by the mundanity of his bedroom, the sunlight doing fuck all except reveal the dust he’d never bothered to wipe off the surfaces.

Shifting upwards into a sitting position, he noticed Salvo’s leg hanging out from the duvet and said, ‘wai.’

No response. Not even a ‘gaaarrrrr.’

It made sense. They’d only fallen asleep about three hours ago so she was in full coma mode. However, one of the last things she’d said before entering that mode was to wake her up when he left. Apparently, five minutes in the company of his dad had been enough for her not to want to be in the same flat alone with him.

Trig got up and grabbed the nearest t-shirt, then headed out into the living room.

His dad was sprawled out on the couch, face down on the cushion. Somehow, he’d been sober enough to turn the TV off, which was better than usual, but he’d also left a complete fucking mess on the floor. A mess that Trig would probably have to clean up all by himself later.

A door opened behind him, his sister saying she was late then diving into the bathroom.

Trig sat down by the table and waited.

He couldn’t remember picking it up, but his phone was there too, so he turned it on and checked for new messages.

Nothing from work, nothing from Cav. Nothing from the hospital. Wah, did that really happen? It felt almost like a dream now, or a short film they’d acted in.

He rubbed his head, looking at the empty bottle of Shōchū on the floor. This action seemed to trigger his dad, who opened one eye and told him to stay where he was, he’d make some breakfast for them.

‘I have to leave in ten minutes.’

‘No worries…I’ll make your girlfriend some too.’

‘She’s not my girlfriend.’

‘Slept in the same room…equals girlfriend.’ His dad opened the other eye and reached down for his phone on the floor. ‘What you wanna eat?’

‘Nothing, I have to go.’

‘Ying?’

‘She has to go too.’

‘Just me and your girlfriend then.’

‘She’s asleep.’

He tried to pull himself up, but it turned into more of a stomach crunch, followed by a groan and a collapse back onto the couch. ‘Fucking head feels like Chernobyl…maybe you can go get us something and bring it back…before your work starts.’

Trig laughed. He would’ve shaken his head too, but it wasn’t surprising enough for that.

‘What’s funny?’

‘I suppose you want me to leave you some cash for lunch too.’

‘Diu…’

‘And spending money of course.’

‘I don’t expect anything.’

‘Good.’

‘From either of you ingrates.’

‘And don’t ask Ying either, she can’t afford it.’

‘Ya, I know what the fucking deal is. I’m at death’s door, you’ll lend a hand, until then, fuck all. I mean, it’s not like you owe me anything…eleven years of back payment…all those school materials, uniforms…’ His dad’s voice retreated into a mumble, but it didn’t matter, the lines were familiar. Eight years, eleven years, sometimes fifteen…

Trig got up and knocked on the bathroom door.

‘You gonna bring back breakfast or not?’ shouted his dad, but he ignored it, asking his sister if she was almost done.

‘Five minutes.’

‘I need to piss.’

‘Suck it back in.’

‘Can’t…’

‘Ah Lan…breakfast or not?’ yelled his dad again.

The door to Trig’s bedroom opened and Salvo peeked her head out. She was still wearing the t-shirt he’d given her the night before, the old Gundam one his dad had bought years ago. Ha, one of the few things he actually did owe him for.

‘Are you leaving now?’ she asked, keeping the door tight to her face.

‘Ten minutes.’

‘I’m coming too.’

‘Good idea.’ Trig walked closer, looking back to make sure his dad hadn’t risen from the couch. ‘But don’t go out there in that t-shirt.’

‘Why not?’

‘Just don’t. Okay?’

Salvo shrugged and closed the door.

+++

After walking Salvo to the minibus stop and wishing her luck with her latest job search-stroke-Ryukahr marathon, Trig made his way past the people in suits, past the queues for the express service to HK Island buses and back into the same shopping complex as the night before.

And the day before that.

And the weeks before that.

Months before that.

The year and a half before-

It was too early and too depressing to go straight into Zinc Burger so he turned right and went inside the other side of the mall. There were a few places open, not the best but okay. Better than work. He sat down in the one that made the biggest coffee and looked at his phone.

Still no messages from Cav.

Judging by the time stamp on his profile, he’d left the river about an hour after sending the video and gone straight home to sleep, which is where he must’ve been at that very moment.

Impulsive idiot, thought Trig, before quickly amending to impulsive for about twenty minutes then okay again. It was true. Cav never actually did anything that wild, he just did the beginning stage of it…then either got scared or bored and did a segway into something else.

Or maybe it was even more of a performance? He did something a little bit wild when other people were around, and then boasted about the really wild things he did when he was solo. If you guys weren’t holding me back, I would’ve done it. You’re the drag factor here. I wrestled a snake, I swear.

Trig laughed at the last one then methodically sucked the foam off the top of his coffee. He stared at the bank staff nearby,  gossiping with each other until the one with the keys turned up.

Was he right about Cav?

It seemed fairly accurate. But then he wasn’t a psychologist, so he didn’t want to share it with anyone. Especially Cav.

He wasn’t even that bad, just annoying sometimes. Like last night, complaining about carrying a guy he wasn’t even carrying. And hiding his job from Salvo. That was a weird one. She knew he’d worked there before, why would she care if went back? And she wasn’t exactly in a position to judge anything, not with her merry-go-round approach to employment.

If Cav weren’t gay, he would’ve suspected he liked her. A bit teen-drama, but it made sense. But he was gay. So why would he care about the petrol station?

Trig’s phone lit up, a message from Salvo.

‘You heard from Cav yet?’

He typed out a reply, saying he was probably sleeping.

‘I suppose.’

‘Don’t worry, he’s too annoying to kidnap.’

‘Call him later, okay? Just to make sure.’

‘Okay.’

Trig thought of adding some more, but it was work time, which meant time to switch off his brain.

Nothing creative about Zinc Burger.

+++

Due to a lack of new videos and interesting shit online, Trig called Cav at lunch, letting it ring twenty times before giving up.

It was still quite early…assuming he was on the afternoon shift, there was a chance he hadn’t woken up yet. Or maybe Old Git had given him another day off.

He lit a fresh cigarette and checked the time stamp on Cav’s profile. It was the same as earlier, no updates. That was it, he was still asleep. He knew for a fact Cav couldn’t ignore his phone this long if he were conscious. No one could.

Except those Buddhist monks maybe.

Did they even have phones?

He got up from the bench, and the dry bird shit stain he’d been sitting on, and walked a long curve into the complex. In his head, he called it a complex, but with everyone else it was the mall. Mall, complex, was there a difference? He took the escalator up and, with no other realistic choices, ducked inside the book shop.

Pretty soon he found himself in the sci-fi section, reading the same absurd alien book from the day before. Alien Goat Face. Flicking to somewhere near the back, he tried another page:

‘‘You humans cannot use it, the underlying technology is beyond anything you can conceive of.’

‘Is that right?’ said Crunch Martone, fingering his pulse gun.

‘It would be like an ant attempting to harness the power of a sun, or an amoeba skimming back and forth across the event horizon of a black hole.’

‘Ah, Black holes again. You guys seem to have a fixation.’

‘We are not guys, and your jokes will not change the situation. Our teleporter is off limits to all humans.’

‘Off limits, huh?’ Crunch raised his pulse gun and pointed it at the alien scientist. ‘You sure about that?’

‘Your puny gun can’t hurt-…’

The alien’s boast was punctured by a swift pulse gun-butt to the jaw, apparently a sweet spot as it fell to the laboratory floor, gasping for air.’

Trig turned the page and read a bit more, laughing at the conclusion of the ‘teleporter’ scene. It freezes you in a stasis blob and faxes you through subspace. For a brief moment he thought about buying it…on some level, it was quite entertaining, putting alien bases in the Kuiper Belt and not getting bogged down in esoteric physics…but then he remembered the internet and how easy it was to find books like this, and put it back on the shelf.

Outside, he tried calling Cav again.

Still no answer.

Still no update on the time stamp.

He searched for the alien book and found nothing. Just three reviews saying it was the greatest thing ever contrived, all written in the same style, with some of the lines repeated.

Three reviews for a published book?

It didn’t make much sense. Unless the author had put it in the bookshop himself?

Trig searched again, scrolling down more of the results and giving up around page seven when it started linking to Indian astrologists.

Shit, nothing, no sign of it.

His eyes [and entire psychic being] stared at the phone menu screen. Salvo sent another message, saying the job search was bleaker than ever, and had he heard from Cav yet?

He didn’t tell her he’d called him already, deciding it would be better if he just went to the petrol station after work and saw him directly.

‘What if he’s not there?’

‘Then I’ll call him.’

‘I’m gonna call him now.’

‘Okay.’

Trig leaned against the railings, staring back over at the book shop window. The open maintenance door popped into his head and swirled a while, but he was too low-energy to really think about going back there.

Maybe later, after his shift. And another four dozen coffees.

His phone buzzed again, forcing Salvo back in.

‘Tried five times, no answer.’

‘He’s probably still asleep.’

‘Starting to get worried.’

‘Don’t. I’ll go to petrol station later. Maybe his flat too if he’s not there. Better?’

‘Ok.’

+++

The rest of his shift was exhausting, dozens of customers complaining about the lack of banana in the banana and cherry pie, but as soon as it was done and he was outside again, a sense of mission returned.

Then evaporated instantly.

The Petrol station wasn’t that far, just outside one of the bigger estates in Tai Wai, and if he took the bus it would drop him almost at the gas pump. But he didn’t really wanna go all that way just to see Cav and say oh, you’re still alive then.

Much easier to simply call him first.

However, before he could press the button next to Cav’s name, the screen lit up. It was Salvo telling him she’d called Cav fourteen times and he still wasn’t picking up.

‘Are you at home?’

‘No, I’m outside Cav’s place. Or I was. I’m waiting for the bus now.’

‘You went to his place?’

‘Of course, he wasn’t picking up his phone.’

‘I told you, he has work today. He’ll be at the petrol station.’

‘He’s not, I’ve just been.’

‘What? You went there too?’

‘Yes, before I went to his flat.’

Trig, for some reason, checked the path behind. No one there. ‘In person?’

‘The weird old guy said he’d called in sick at four in the morning yesterday. That must’ve been when he sent us the video.’

‘I suppose.’

‘But he still hasn’t checked his messages…not for the whole day. And his profile hasn’t been updated either.’

‘Yeah, that is a bit weird.’

‘I’m thinking we should call the cops.’

‘Wah, wait a sec…’ stuttered Trig, quickly biting down on are you fucking insane?

‘But then I’m thinking maybe that’s too crazy. He could be out somewhere, and his phone’s acting weird. Or he could be at his mum’s place. That makes sense, right? His mum’s place. Taking care of her or something. Do you have her number?’

‘No.’

‘His brother’s?’

‘I don’t really know them that well.’ He lowered the phone, noticed an uncle watching him, pulled it back close to his chin. ‘Salvo…’

‘Do you know their address? I know it’s somewhere in Wong Tai Sin, but which estate-…’

‘…slow down a bit. Think for a second.’

‘Or maybe he’s back at the river. What?’

‘There’s another possibility.’

‘Go on.’

‘He might be angry at us. That’s why he’s not answering the calls. He was pretty pissed off last night, when he left the hospital.’

‘Okay…then why hasn’t he checked any of his messages? Why does his profile still have the 4am time stamp?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe he’s sulking. Or using a different app.’

‘No, it’s the river. That’s the last place he was at when he sent us the message. We need to check it out.’

‘You really think he’s still there?’ asked Trig, walking down the slope towards the place in question.

‘I don’t know…maybe not. But it’s near you, and I’m already on my way over, so…’

‘What?’

‘I just got on the bus, I’m coming over to you.’

‘Which bus?’

‘We can check the river first, just to make sure he’s not there. Then go back to his flat. Or his mum’s flat. Or call the cops, report him missing.’

‘Okay, slow down…’

‘Yeah, I will. When I’m sure nothing happened to him by the river. Then I’ll do full calm mode, I swear.’

‘You promise?’

‘I’m just-…it’s weird that he’s doing this. And the thing with the runner guy…I don’t know, I can’t explain. Just feels like something’s not right. And my heart won’t stop beating fast, which makes it even worse cos that means I might be right, on a metaphysical level or something.’

‘Salvo, relax. Seriously. He’s probably at his flat and just doesn’t wanna talk to anyone. That’s what most situations like this turn out to be. Right?’

‘Yeah, rationalism, good idea. I’ve just passed Wor Che, are you near the river now?’

Trig stopped, dodged an incoming bike [going ludicrously fast along the pedestrian path], turned back to the path he’d just come down. ‘Not too far. Let me go home first, drop my stuff.’

‘Okay, but don’t take too long.’

‘Ten minutes.’

‘Five.’

+++

To Trig’s sluggishly expressed surprise, Ying wasn’t sitting on the couch watching darts when he opened the front door, she was at the table doing her previous hobby, Japanese.

‘Is he in the bathroom?’ asked Trig, taking off his shoes.

She didn’t answer.

‘Hey…’

Still no response.

Trig stepped in front of her and waved his arms, gesturing for her to take the earphones out. She put up a hand, watched a little more of her video then took out the one in her left ear.

‘Nani?’

‘Where’s Dad?’

‘Gone.’

‘What…just now or…’

‘This morning.’

‘Huh?’

‘He sent me a message, saying he was leaving.’

‘You didn’t give him any cash, did you?’

‘No.’

Trig tilted his head, his usual trick to dig out the truth from her, but she was already putting the earphone back in.

‘Wait…how much did you give him?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Ying…’

‘Watching my video, bye bye.’

‘I told you not to give him any, it’ll just make him come back for more.’

‘Gum kai.’

‘So you did give him some?’

‘Yeah, so what? He didn’t ask for it, I gave it to him.’

Trig breathed out like he’d just bought a house next to Pol Pot. He’d warned her about dad’s tricks, the way he made you think it was your own idea to give him things, but she fell for it every time.

‘Don’t know why you’re mad about it anyway. He’s still our dad.’

‘Legally, yeah.’

‘If you bothered to spend more than five minutes with him, you’d see that he’s not that bad.’

‘I have, I did, I spent half my fucking life with him. That’s why I know what he’s like.’

‘He’s different now. More mellow, less chaotic.’

‘Like last night? Drunk on our couch, hitting on Salvo.’

‘He was being friendly.’

‘Come on, Ying, you weren’t even talking to him. You told him to shut up…’

‘Cos he was interrupting the darts. Before then, he was okay.’

‘Okay?’

‘You just never see it…always coming in with your moody head, antagonising him.’

‘Me?’

‘Thinking the worst of him.’ She focused on the screen again. ‘Anyway, don’t care. Going back to my video now. No more interruptions.’

Trig loitered for a few seconds then stormed off to his room, muttering the response he didn’t want her to hear. Didn’t have time for this shit anyway. Salvo was waiting for him downstairs. Or she would be soon. And there was no point arguing with someone who’d already been poisoned by a manipulator.

But Jesus fucking-…how could she not see it?

Every time he came to see them, he always left with money in his pocket. Fucking Pokkai leech. It was textbook stuff.

His phone vibrated, making him confused for a second. Then reality rematerialized. Salvo was downstairs, at the bus stop opposite the river.

He changed clothes quickly, grabbed his no brand running jacket and walked back out past Ying without saying a word.

As he opened the front door, he pivoted, assuming she’d said something to him, but she was Jung-deep in her video, eyes so fixed on the computer screen that he knew it was bullshit.

She’s angry at me, he thought.

Because I’m right.

And she hates it when I’m right.

Cav too.

And Salvo.

The whole lot of them.