CHAPTER THREE

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There was a sweltering heat coming from the Little Fig that Shepard did not expect. It was like standing near a roaring furnace. The entrance guarded by two large thuggish men. Both whom were shirtless with scores of tattoos across their burly chest and stomach. He noticed the sweat dripped faces of the drunks dragging themselves out the front entrance. Every time the doors swung open, Shepard got a glimpse inside.

It came as a surprise to Shepard. At the far end of the Little Fig, beyond the rows of tables and behind the scrapped together bar counter, was a large metal furnace. It was oblong oval with crooked pipes extending up towards the ceiling. Behind the prison like bars, a fire burned. It moved with buoyancy, its form like that of water.

The doors closed. Shepard watched a couple, both dressed in black oil stained overalls, push through the doors. Shepard caught another glimpse inside.

The bartender, a bald lavishly dressed man with, placed a tall mug on the counter and poured half a bottle of brown spic. As he bent down underneath the counter, the fire reached out between the bars with a long burning appendage, coiled it around the mug’s handle and pulled it towards the furnace.

The doors closed. Shepard rubbed his eyes, blinked twice, and stared in disbelief. That did not happen. The doors swung open outward. A tall lanky man held the doors open for his friend whose face was flushed and eyes half opened. The friend stumbled towards the doors, placed one hand on the doorway to steady themselves, and held back the puke pooling in their mouth.

Shepard watched the fire hold up the mug and then splashed itself. The fire exploded. The drunk dove to the ground, placing his hands on top his head. The other three men, all wide-eyed, looked back inside. Shepard felt the burning heat sweep down the street tingle across his skin. The fire quickly died down. The two thuggish men standing guard looked at one another, shrugged, and went about their business. The lanky man walked over and helped their friend off the ground.

The doors closed. Everything went back to normal. Shepard could not believe it. He expected people to run out, screaming and trampling one another in a desperate bid for survival. That’s what a sane person would do in that situation. But instead of screams, Shepard heard the muffled sound of cheers coming from the Little Fig as if a spectacle had been witnessed. Boulder! Boulder! Boulder! Chanted the people.

A large woman came from around the corner, dressed in oil stained overalls with tools in her breast pocket and bronze goggles on her head, went up to the Little Fig. The door swung open outward and a man was there to meet her. He held the door open, tipping his hat to her, and the two went their separate ways. Shepard managed one more glimpse. The bartender teeth gritted, and face creased with anger. He wagged his finger at the furnace as if scolding a child.

The doors closed.

It was at that moment Shepard decided he’d go in and have a look around. He tucked his hands in his pockets, his fingers fitting through the holes at the bottom, and strolled over to the Little Fig. His head hung low. His face hidden underneath the shadow of his oversized hat. He had never gone inside a bar before. There wasn’t a reason until now. The woman from earlier, Lady Maria, was inside. Her pockets fat with coin waiting to be picked. The living fire whose name was Boulder. It must have been something special if people would flock to this place and endure such heat.

Shepard bumped in a large meaty wall. He looked up to see two thuggish figures glaring down on him with crossed arms and puffed out chest. They had crooked smiles and foul breath ripe with the stench of heavy brown spic.

“Where’d ya think ya goin little man?”

“Just inside,” said Shepard.

“No children allowed!” the other one bellowed. “Now get lost before we throw ya off dock.”

“Come on! I just wanna see what folks cheer’n about.”

“Ol’e Boulder’s given folks a show.”

“Ya. Does the exploding trick. Gets a kick outta the crowd. First time I saw almost shite myself.”

Both laughed, patting one another on the back with fat meaty fingers. One of them wiped a tear from their eye then looked at Shepard. Their expressions grew sour. “Now fuck outta here kid. We ain’t got time for ya.”

“Ya! Go back to ya ol mum and da.”

“I ain’t got no parents,” said Shepard.

“Shame kid. Best throw ya self off tha dock over there. Save the rest of us some air. Looks like tha fat kids about to do it.”

Shepard looked over and saw Hunch sitting on the edge of the dock. His head hung low, feet slowly swaying over the ghastly sludge coursing down the canal. Shepard walked over to him. The wooden planks creaked underneath his footsteps gave him away. Hunch looked up at Shepard. His lazy eye looking a different direction.

Neither one could find the right words to start off. They were never good friends. Their relationship bounded together by Lugel and Babel. The few times they tried to hang out together, just the two of them, it ended in arguments and fighting. But it appeared Hunch did not have the energy to fight. His eyes sunken with grief. He went back to staring at the brown sludge as if among its endless trash held an answer.

Shepard sighed. “You doing ok?”

“What’s it to ya?” replied Hunch.

“Just ask’n. No need to be an ass.”

“Mum’s inside,” said Hunch. “Said we’d walk around together when she gets out.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Ya don’t want to walk around with ya mama?”

“It’s ain’t that.” Hunch shook his head. “She always says that. But then she comes out drunk and we don’t do anything. Sometimes she’s tired. Sometimes she’s…angry.” Hunch rubbed his cheek. “She’s a liar.”

“Least ya got a mama,” said Shepard. He closed his mouth, sucked air through his nose, and spat a loogie into the sludge. “A bad mama’s better than no mama at all.”

“What happened to ya parents?” asked Hunch.

“Mama…died and dad left.” Shepard shrugged, trying to not let it bother him. It bothered him a lot. He struggled to sleep at night because of his mother’s death. The event was mostly a blur looming in the back of his mind. The words muffled. The actions blended together. All the faces blurred except for hers. It was his brain trying to protect him. It did not want him to forget what happened but knew he wasn’t emotionally ready for the details.

Shepard’s father did not illicit the same feeling. He did not feel anything about his father. The man was a stranger who would come home after a long absence to fuck his mother. Then he’d leave with nothing more than a pat on Shepard’s head. Shepard had tried to show the stranger a scrap metal man he’d made from junk found around the house. Didn’t even warrant a glance.

“Where’s ya dad at?” asked Shepard.

“Murdered a long time ago,” answered Hunch.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. Not like ya knew him.”

The back door swung wide open, smacking against the choppy brick wall. Shepard and Hunch eyes followed a drunk as he stumbled onto the dock with his hand down his pants. He walked to the end of the dock, catching himself multiple times on wooden crates. He pulled out his cock and pissed into the sludge. Hunch and Shepard held back laughter. Their eyes tearing up. The golden arch died to a dribble landing on the drunk’s hands. He shook off the rest and stumbled back towards the Little Fig and inside.

“Can’t believe tha guy pissed off in front of us!” laughed Hunch.

“Did ya see it get on his hands? Fuck’n gross!” said Shepard, wiping away a tear from his eye.

“Once seen a guy shite in the canal before,” said Hunch. “Fell in when he stood to wipe.”

“No way!”

“It was really fuck’n gross too!” Hunch nodded confidence. A grin stretched from one dirty cheek to the other.

Shepard and Hunch continued laughing and joking until their jokes became so obscured neither one understood the other and were laughing just to laugh. The back door slowly open. A cold air spilled out and swept over them with goosebumps. Their eyes snapped to the woman with pale skin, lavish limestone hair, and beautiful red lips.

Lady Maria…

Hunch stood up when he noticed Shepard’s fist shaking clenched tight. His focus jumped between the woman and Shepard. Was he still upset about the scarf? It did not seem like a big deal to him. He watched the woman duck underneath the doorway as she stepped out. She was twirling her velvet coin purse around her finger, held up for Shepard to see.

“I don’t know about this, Shepard…”

“She’s enough coin to feed me and Babel for weeks,” said Shepard. “She’s gonna learn why rich folk don’t come down here.”

The woman spun on her heels and walked left towards the street and away from the dock. Why didn’t she go out the front? It was simple. She wanted Shepard. And like a cat chasing a toy tied to a rope, Shepard followed. Hunch reached out to grab Shepard, mouth opened but no words. He glanced at the Little Fig. His mother hadn’t come out yet. Hunch hesitated to move his feet, but his mind soon set on his decision to follow Shepard.

Besides, it wasn’t like his mother would come looking for him.

Hunch caught up with Shepard. It was the fastest he’d ever ran. He lurched forward, hands on his flabby knees, and breathed heavily. Shepard was peeking around the building corner. He saw the woman walk down the crooked cobblestone street. A few street rats were playing nearby. They kicked a leather ball back and forth until one of them missed and it rolled in the path of the woman. She bent over, grabbed it with one hand, and held it towards the street rats reluctant to go near her.

The smallest street rat did. A young girl about half Shepard’s age. She was a frail thing. Her ragged clothes hung loose over her thin frame. She smiled and took the ball from the woman with both hands. The woman smiled back and rustled her hair before continuing her way.

“Let’s take a moment to rest,” whined Hunch. He looked up to see Shepard already gone. He groaned, took a deep breath, and ran to catch up.

At this point it was clear to Shepard the woman wanted him to follow her. He wasn’t to keen about knowing why. She had what he wanted and nothing more to offer him. She figured herself smart, but Shepard felt he was one step ahead of her. He kept to the shadows, moving swiftly through the world of cobbled bricks, broken glass, and hissing corroded pipes. The gap between them slowly closing. The air around her cold and left a bitter taste on his yellow teeth.

The woman turned the corner into a narrow alley. The air coming from the alley smelled ripe of iron and putrid rotting trash. Shepard gagged, pulled his ragged shirt by the collar over his mouth and nose. He stepped from the shadows. The area ahead of him undeveloped. It was where the Bowels met the caverns that engulfed it, surrounded it in darkness and cold rock.

The light pollution from behind Shepard barely reached out into the blackness. What wild things skulked out there was up to his imagination. The only thing out there that Shepard was certain of, was that nobody who went beyond the light came back. That decades ago, after thousands of mining pilgrimages, a group of hundreds went out and never came back.

“Dammit…Shepard,” said Hunch, gasping for breath. “Why tha hell…we out here?”

“I’m wonder’n tha same thing, Hunch.” Shepard placed his hand over his squirming stomach. He felt scared butterflies fluttering around inside him. He wanted to turn on his heels and run. But the thought of Babel, lying cold and hungry in the clocktower, kept his feet planted firmly in place.

“Ya know what happens to folks who go out there, right?” asked Hunch

Shepard nodded. “We ain’t gonna go out there. Don’t ya worry. She turned into tha alley over there.”

Shepard and Hunch turned the corner into the narrow alley. Their footsteps echoed off the wet cobblestone. At the end of the alley, surrounded by piles of trash buzzing with fat flies, was a wooden hanging by a single hinge. A chemical lamp burned green on each side of the door. The flickering light stretching out their shadows. Shepard spotted something sparkling in the muddy puddle near them. He reached over and picked up a golden coin embezzled with a fine ruby material and a diamond hole punched in the center.

“Is that a…” Hunch leaned over Shepard’s shoulder, gazing wide-eyed at the coin in Shepard’s fingers. This woman did not carry peasant coin or the coin of nobles. She carried the coin of kings and gods.

Currency across Dia D’nar varied. A clear iron clad caste system meant that certain coins were more common at certain levels. The undesirables, slaves, prisoners, and infected, only received paper noted printed and distributed by the lord in charge. This paper note could buy them food, medicine, supplies, or anything else they could afford coincidentally provided by the lord they worked for. But these paper notes were only good for wiping one’s ass outside the lord’s province.

The Bowel, despite its huge population of undesirables, was one of the few exceptions. It was controlled by the Empire and thus paid its undesirables in copper coin. A coin embroiled with coal dust and a square hole punched in the center. It was flatter than most other coin with the unique word, “Liberty,” printed on the side.

“Ya know what this means right?” asked Shepard.

“It means she’s a queen or very very fuck’n rich.”

“It means we’re very very fuck’n rich.”