A Vagrant Story by Paul Croasdell

then realising his location. It also dawned on him that the trip down here, together with returning to normal, might have taken a lot longer than it seemed to him. The doctor did say the effects would last a whole hour.
    He walked forward on jelly legs, winding around pipes that ran through the middle of the room. He slammed through the fire exit as though fleeing a collapsing mineshaft. He’d made it to the outside, to a laneway lined with snow. He found himself awash with sudden biting cold which almost sent him shivering to the ground. To his left, he saw the wall which should take him back to the main street
    Sparing no more thought, he dragged some storage crates up against it for climbing leverage. Everything the doctor promised turned out true. He was safe, he was free. He could keep running and never be found. He could be free.
    ***
    Rum, Alex, and Sierra had made near two runs around the hospital to no avail. Spirits low and bodies tired, they chose to rest in an elevator landing between stairwells.
    Evening drew closer. Snow outside the window fell like ash from an otherwise calm, if not clouded sky. There were twice as many people in the hospital now, and just a slight fading trace of hope.
    Sat on top of a stairwell, Rum began gloating as if distracted in his own private victory. “Hopeless … I told you guys it’d be hopeless. If only you listened to me first. I could be home by now.”
    Sierra paced around the room. “This can’t be all there is. They took him to this hospital I know it. This guy couldn’t have just disappeared. He could be in the next room for all we know!”
    “We already checked the next room. He’s gone.” Rum said.
    “Hate to say, but Rum may actually be right,” Alex said. “This was the nearest hospital so they would have brought him here by default. Once they get his insurance in order, then off he goes to a better hospital.”
    “We asked from the staff and the patients, Blondie,” Rum argued. “We’ve done everything we can do. It’s probably for the best anyway, saves us a lot more trouble.”
    Sierra thumped Rum over the head. “Shut the hell up, you could have gone home any time you wanted!”
    Rum pronged to his feet, grabbing her by the collar. “You’re right, I could have. Guess I spend too much time babysitting you.”
    Sierra clenched her fist, holding it up with the intention to strike.
    “Cut it out,“ Alex said. “We’ve stopped for a few minutes and you two are already at each other‘s throats. Look, we’re here anyway we might as well have another go around. Maybe we should try look at it from another angle. Maybe the guy in the fire wasn’t our guy. He might have just worked there. But Jack Matters might have come in as a guest, so why not check the guest list?”
    Sierra and Rum backed away from each other with plentiful hesitation.
    “You think this place keeps a guest list?” Sierra said, eying the deteriorating walls as if the décor spoke for itself.
    “I’m out of ideas then.”
    Rum began chuckling to himself, gradually growing louder until bursting into laughter. The joke appeared to have started as a private one between himself and himself but shortly pitched into something of an all out belly laugh. It sounded like a victorious, spiteful laugh. 
    Even Alex had to scowl for his poor form. “That doesn’t mean we’re giving up yet.”
    Old Rum washed a phoney tear of joy away, holding up a piece of paper for them to see – the suicide note.
    Sierra snapped it back. “How the hell did you get that? You sneaky little git, you picked my pocket!” He didn’t stop laughing. “You think this is funny?”
    “Not that you little she-cow,” Rum said. “You messed up.”
    “The hell are you talking about?” She brushed over the note again.
    “Open your eyes, Blondie. The note says he went to see that Matters guy at his bookies. Did that place look like bookie to you?”
    “Well I … didn’t really see what it was like.