CHAPTER TWELVE

A HERO WE GET

Under the dim lights of the streets, John and Alex run with purpose.

“Where are we going?” Alex asks, running beside John with ease.

“We need to... regroup... somewhere safe,” John barely articulates running with heavy feet while loudly panting.

“We are not going to your office?” Alex asks, strolling.

“No... we need... to... go... somewhere... where no one will... look for us,” John says, as a friendly spasm joins the party.

“Okay,” Alex says, unaffected by this stressful light pace.

“Life is pain!” John adds, holding his painful thigh.

Reaching the Seahorse bar, John breaks down in exhaustion, griping his knees with his hands while breathing like a fish would if left in the dry for too long. Not so great.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks, standing next to him.

“Just... need to get... some booze and...I’ll be alright,” John barely says.

“You mean air?” Alex asks standing over the bent terribly out-of-shape man.

“I know what I mean, kid,” John says as he is regaining composure. Slowly but surely.

Alex shrugs in indifference as he whistles; a few moments of gasping, murmuring to himself and showing visible signs of pain our questionable hero regains his strength and with that, he stands proud and tall. Breathing heroically like a... normal human being. Truly, it is a majestic spectacle to behold.

“Okay, I am well now,” John says, being good now.

“Okay,” Alex responds as he still whistles softly.

John looks at the young boy with judgmental eyes.

“How are you not tired? What do they feed you in that orphanage?” John asks.

“Well... vegetables, soup, meat, and sometimes we get pudding for dessert,” Alex says.

“You got any of that pudding, I’m kind of hungry,” John asks.

“No. But you can’t just eat pudding like that,” Alex says.

“Why not?” John asks.

“You can’t have your pudding unless you eat your meat,” Alex says proudly.

“Why the hell not?” John asks.

“I don’t know, but I know they say that. They tell us, how can you have your pudding if you don’t eat your meat,” Alex says in a deep voice, trying to impersonate someone.

“Kid, don’t listen to what everyone says, they are all just another brick in the wall,” John says.

“What wall?” Alex asks curiously.

“It is a metaphor like another cog in the machine or something like that,” John says.

“A cog in the machine?” Alex asks as the metaphor eludes him.

“Yes, it means we are all smaller cogs of... a big cog? Like a machine or something,” John explains.

“I hate machines, there is a factory nearby and I always rage against the machines when I hear em, they are so loud,” Alex says.

“For once I agree with you. Well, look at us once perfect strangers and now we can have a conversation like this under the deep purple lights of this run-down bar,” John says as he nods in approval.

“I used to talk all the time with Mary, but since she went missing...,” Alex says as a surge of emotion stops him mid-sentence.

“Friendships is like a led zeppelin, they last for a bit but they all vanish eventually and they give you no quarter,” John says as he explains.

“Mary is still my friend, I just need to find her,” Alex adds.

“Okay, okay, we will find her. We aren’t in dire straits yet,” John adds.

“Who was the friend you lost?” Alex asks.

“It isn’t important now,” John says, dismissing the question.

“Come on, tell me. Who, who, who, who?” Alex asks repeating the word who as if it was a bullet and his mouth a machinegun; eager to learn more about John’s past.

“Just accept that some things will remain a mystery. It doesn’t matter as we are foreigners now, which is better because he was such a Judas. You should take my advice and stay away from people and just be free,” John says.

“Making friends is a journey, that is what the headmistress told us, that and to listen to our hearts,” Alex adds.

“Quite a surprising one such as she would say something like that since she seemed cold as ice and a real iron maiden, well iron maiden is perhaps taking it too far,” John says as he wonders about how people are strange.

“She is an enigma,” Alex says.

“Never mind about that, let us just get inside, there are good doors there and there are things you need to explain to me,” John says as they walk inside the Seahorse bar; putting an end to this musical conversation.

At the entrance, the enormous bouncer stands. Blocking the way with his door-sized physique and his door-like smarts.

“Hey, you can’t bring underaged children in here. We have rules,” the bouncer says.

“Don’t worry, he won’t be drinking any hard liquor, maybe just a beer or two. I know how to take care of children, I wasn’t born yesterday,” John says.

“Okay, but only beer and no funny buzz... bus-ness... bizes?” the bouncer says, struggling with the word.

“Business?” John adds, throwing a helping word.

“Yeah, that. I will watch you,” the bouncer adds.

They walk inside the empty bar; the bartender looks with excitement as new guests have arrived and his business is slow, but the moment he realizes who walked in the look on his face turns into one of utter disappointment. Behind them, the bouncer struggles to pronounce the word business. Funny business this entire situation is. Funny bus-ness.

“Oh, my God!” the bartender yells with a nice facepalm; it echoes around as it leaves a nice red mark on the forehead.

“Well, bartender Bartender, it has been a long time,” John says as he leans on the bar counter.

“What do you want now? And why in the name of all that is good have you brought a child here? Why, even, was a child allowed in here?” the bartender asks. The look of defeat lingers around him as taking almost visible form.

“It is okay, he won’t be having any hard liquor... just beer,” John says.

“Okay, for a moment there you had me worried,” the bartender responds as his worries lessen.

“So give me the usual and a beer for the smelly orphan boy,” John orders.

“The usual? You know what I don’t care anymore,” the bartender says as he pours the closest drink and takes out one beer because there are laws that must be abided when it comes to underage drinking and as such, underaged drinking, is no joke. No joke, indeed.

Sitting on the table, John takes out a cigarette and lights it.

“Okay, explain to me again about what you found at the headmistress’s office, and why you went to that house,” John asks.

“This juice is funny,” Alex says, taking a sip of the beer.

“Funny how?” John asks.

“It is bitter,” Alex says as he takes another sip.

“That means it is working. The more bitter the drink, the more bitterness it takes away. That is just science. Anyway, enough about this pointless chit-chat. Answer the questions I asked,” John says as taking a small puff of smoke and trying to make a smoke circle; instead of a circle, something more akin to a Rorschach shape comes out as John looks at it with disappointment. Looks like an elephant, John thinks.

“I found a piece of paper at Miss McMann’s office. There were names listed on it, some that I don’t know and some that I knew, and there was also Mary’s name there,” Alex explains.

“Why are smoke circles so hard to make?” John asks as he tries to puff another smoke circle; epic fail.

“There was some name written on it, that address and another one,” Alex says.

“Damn you smoke circles,” John says as he is desperately trying to make just one simple smoke circle. Just give me one win, John pleads within himself.

“Are you even listening?” Alex asks.

“Of course I am. I can make smoke circles and listen to another person talk, even if that person is an orphan. It is called multitasking,” John says.

“You haven’t made a smoke circle,” Alex says, staring at John with squinty eyes.

“Can you remember the name or the other address on that document?” John asks.

“No,” Alex answers.

“That is a problem,” John says as he sighs and thinks.

“Why don’t we just read it?” Alex asks.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“I’m not really in the mood to break in again or talk to Miss McMann,” John says.

“But we don’t have to break in,” Alex quickly answers.

“What are you talking about?” John asks.

“I have the paper here,” Alex says as they both stare at each other in silence.

...

“You have THAT paper HERE?” John says, frustration oozing from him.

“Yes,” Alex says as he takes out the same piece of paper from his poor orphan clothes.

“I don’t know to be impressed or angry,” John says, pondering whether to be impress or angry. Life is hard sometimes.

“Impressed?” Alex says, guessing the answer.

“Just give it to me,” John says as he takes the piece of paper.

Grabbing the piece of paper, John skims it as he finds this simple page interesting.

“I find this interesting,” John says as he found the page interesting. An interesting development.

On the paper a list of various names which would mean nothing to him at all, but based on what Alex said he can connect the picture... somewhat. These are the names of children that used to be the part of the orphanage one could conclude. Based on the numbers and money value besides their names; this is a list of sold merchandise. A list depicting child trafficking! The recipient of these orphans is Max Daubrey, or otherwise known as Pink; it lists two addresses, one is the house where he was at and the other an unknown address but somewhere, from what little is left of his memory, he remembers that it is an abandoned fish processing facility. Perhaps not so abandoned anymore? Something is very fishy in this, no puns intended, and he is about to sort this out.

“So, the orphanage sells children to Pink. But how is it all connected to Mark Aubrie and why is Jane von Riyn so adamant about stopping my investigation?” John asks out loud, not expecting an answer as he ponders this conundrum- it hits him.

“Could it be that one of those orphans could be his child? But why would he leave a child and then come searching for it after such a long time? A change of heart, perhaps? Most likely this is the case, but that still leaves out the connection between Jane von Riyn and this entire situation,” John says thinking out loud.

“We have to go help them if they are being held somewhere,” Alex says impatiently; barely able to contain himself as he fidgets.

“I’m not paid to be a hero...” John says as he gets cut off.

“Mr. John, I didn’t expect to see you here,” a nearby voice says. He turns around and sees Rebecca standing while holding a thin cigarette, dressed in a smooth, long, and beautiful dress, even more beautiful in John’s eyes. Her eyes sad, glimmering dimly. Not like before.

“Rebeca! I didn’t expect to see you here,” John says, turning and immediately standing up. He pulls a chair for her to sit.

“I can’t say I expected to see you again,” Rebecca says as she sits down.

“Who is this?” Alex asks.

“Oh my, is this your child? He is cute,” Rebbeca says, tenderly smiling.

“No, I’m just helping him look for his lost friend,” John says, heroically.

“Hello, my name is Rebecca. What is your name?” Rebecca asks, fondly.

“His name is Frank,” John says.

“I am Alex,” Alex yells.

“Exactly,” John nods.

“Nice to meet you, Alex. So, is this true about John helping you?” Rebecca asks.

“Yes, but...” Alex says as he gets cut.

“But, unfortunately, there is still much to do. Why don’t you run and play with the animals here, I need to speak to Rebecca in private,” John says, waving his arm like one would wave his arm to get rid of an unwanted dog or cat? He leaves out the shoo-shoo part.

“What animals?” Alex asks.

“Just look around you,” John says as a roach runs across the floor and a rat runs to the middle of the bar; nibbling on an unidentified piece of what seems like food.

“I like rats,” Alex says as he runs to the rat, which strangely enough seems indifferent towards humans. One would only guess this comes from a long history of living side by side with them at this establishment.

“Orphans and rats both somewhat cute and both smelly,” John murmurs a little quieter.

“What was that?” Rebecca asks as she didn’t quite catch what John murmured.

“I said children aren’t they just the... best,” John says as forcing the last word of this sentence.

“Yes,” Rebecca answers softly. John looks around, trying to observe her, but he can’t quite figure it out. Did she say that dejectedly, didn’t she?

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Rebecca asks.

“Usually it would be about whatever you want to talk about but, sadly, now I have to ask a few questions and I would appreciate you being honest with me,” John says.

“What makes you feel I wasn’t being honest before?” Rebecca asks.

“I have something like a superpower, whenever a person lies to me I get this tingly sensation,” John says.

“And you got it while you were talking to me?” Rebecca asks.

“With you and with everyone I talk to,” John explains.

“Maybe it is less of a superpower and more like a medical condition? Perhaps you should have it checked out?” Rebecca says.

“Trust me, it is a superpower,” John adds.

“What makes you say that?” Rebecca asks.

“Because people are always dishonest,” John adds.

“Don’t you think life would be easier if you learn to trust people,” Rebecca says.

“Maybe, but it never was my hobby to trust people,” John says.

“Anyway, did you know that Mark Daubrey is involved in child trafficking?” John asks.

A slight shiver blows over Rebecca as her gentle smile slowly vanishes and morphs into a grave expression; a sad turn of events for John to say anything that would break that gentle and warm smile, a smile unlike he ever seen before and a smile like he would like to see much... much more.

“I had my suspicion,” Rebecca answers, slightly shivering. Trying to hide it, but only trying.

Come on, John, you have to get answers, there is no time for sentiments he thinks to himself; trying to encourage himself to continue with the questioning.

“Tell me the reason you and your brother came to this city. Does it have anything to do with his child?” John asks.

Rebecca slightly shakes as she tries to hide it; she tries.

Not a taco one would order for himself; no, not a taco like that, John thinks to himself. He is starving now. What he wouldn’t give for one taco right now when voracious hunger kicks in.

“I see you did your homework,” Rebecca says.

“I never did my homework, but I did my investigation in this case,” John answers. Giving us some answers concerning his life. Do your homework, kids.

“You did. It is true, the reason we came here is because of Mark’s child,” Rebecca says.

“So the reason you got close to Mark Daubrey is because you did some investigating of your own?” John asks, leaning closer.

“You could say that,” Rebecca says.

“I say that, would you say that?” John pushes on with his questioning as Rebecca avoids eye contact.

“Why are you feeling so pressured? As far as I know, you did nothing wrong and were only trying to help your brother,” John says, unsure of Rebecca’s reaction.

“Because it is all my fault,” Rebecca says, a single tear flows down her eye.

“How is anything your fault?” John asks the sight of the tear makes his hand quiver.

“You don’t understand,” Rebecca says, shuddering.

“Help me understand, I want to help you,” John says raising his voice.

“I’ve pushed him to this, if it weren’t for me he wouldn’t be dead,” Rebecca says. Her control fails as she trembles.

The entire scene is overwhelmingly emotional, one worthy of a great dramatic scene but sadly the bartender in the background eating popcorn and eavesdropping on this conversation ruins it completely. His manic munching of the salty and buttered popcorn with his eyes wide open in excitement somehow tone the seriousness of it all down, quite a big toning down. He throws handfuls of popcorn in his mouth; not bothering to close his mouth while munching.

“I...,” Rebecca tries to speak.

“Trust me, Rebecca,” John says, leaning closer.

Munch, munch from the sidelines. The bartender continues to eat his salty popcorn as the expected revelation seems like more drama than he can handle. Some bastards just have to ruin everything.

Rebecca takes a deep breath as she steadies herself.

“My brother had a child. He and his late wife had financial problems, and I turned a blind eye to him. You see John, my brother loved gambling, but gambling didn’t love him so much. I guess it would be better to say that gambling hated him. He had a tough childhood and a tougher life, I thought it would all become better when he met the woman he loved but...,” Rebecca says.

“But it didn’t get any better, did it?” John says, all too familiar with the story. Not a unique turn of events, especially for the downtrodden.

“It did for a while but like all addicts, his addiction caught up to him as much as he tried... and he tried. Believe me,” Rebecca urges.

“I am not judging you or your brother, I just want to know what happened and I just want to help,” John says.

“Why do you try so hard for me?” Rebecca asks.

“To tell you the truth, I wish I knew the answer to that,” John says as he grins uncomfortably.

“I see,” Rebecca says as a light small returns to her lips. A tiny smile, but a smile nevertheless. There is a small awkward silence between them; munch, munch in the background.

“So you were saying,” John says, breaking the silence. He never was one for awkward situations even though his life could be perfectly summarized as nothing but an awkward situation, but there has to be a line drawn somewhere and John drew it here; he is peculiar that way.

“After a certain time passed, I turned back to my brother who was, as it all seemed, on a verge of despair after his wife passed away,” Rebecca says.

“That must have been tough for you,” John adds.

“It was, but even after all the problems we had I found out that you only have one family and you have to stick to it, even if they are far from perfect,” Rebecca says.

“Perhaps, but I wouldn’t go too far in reaching out. Anyway, you were saying,” John says, remembering his family.

“I tried many things, but it seemed like the darkness in his heart was too strong and whatever I did had little to no effect. But then, I remembered about their abandoned child. I had an idea to reunite them and I convinced him to do so, even though he was reluctant at first. But after some time, this idea seemed like the best idea in his life. His one way of redemption,” Rebecca says.

“So to find the girl you two set on an adventure and it led you here,” John says.

“Yes, and as things happened, we finally found out where she was, but there was a problem,” Rebecca says.

“The child was no longer in the orphanage,” John states.

“Yes, and they lied about never having her in the first place,” Rebecca says.

“So you did some investigation of your own and it led you to Mark Daubrey,” John says.

“I was more or less a lucky coincidence, or perhaps I should say unlucky coincidence,” Rebecca says.

“Tell me how did your brother get involved with Miss Jane von Riyn and what is her connection in this?” John asks.

“That I do not know. The only thing I know about her is that my brother met her and they hit it off. Besides that, there were no other mentions,” Rebecca says.

“How did you find out about Mark Daubrey and his less than legal activities?” John asks.

“As a singer, you meet many people and these people talk. Many people talk a lot if you get what I am saying,” Rebecca explains.

“I’m finding it hard to picture you meeting many people in this dump,” John says as the bartender looks him with an evil eye while munching on his salty popcorn. The usually menacing evil eye somehow loses its menace as the sight of eating popcorn intertwines with it. Not an excellent combination, John thinks.

“I didn’t just sing here, I sang in a lot of places but when I lost contact with my brother I... somehow felt lost and, I guess, this is the place I curled under,” Rebecca says.

“Like an exquisite rat searching for the darkest hole,” John says as he nods in understanding.

“Like a rat?” Rebecca says.

“I said an exquisite rat... um... I didn’t mean any offense or...” John stutters as he feels like she caught him with his pants down.

“I’m joking with you John,” Rebecca says, she smirks at him.

“I see,” John says, returning the smirk. They burst out laughing.

The bartender grunts in disappointment as though the story of his soap opera has suddenly turned worse and with that, he puts down his popcorn and polishing the glass with his usual, dissatisfied look.

“So, now that you know everything. How does that change anything?” Rebecca asks.

“Well, now we just need to rescue your brother’s child and that’s it,” John states heroically.

“And Mary,” Alex says as he returns from his most unhygienic playing.

“Mary?” Rebecca mumbles.

“Yes, and your friend Mary Stilsky,” John says.

“How come you remembered her name and you still can’t remember mine?” Alex asks.

“That is because you are an orphan and I have trouble remembering orphan names,” John says.

“That makes no sense because she is...,” Alex says as he gets cut off.

“Mary Stilsky!” Rebecca yells. Both John and Alex look at her.

“Did you say Mary Stiskly?” Rebecca asks again with intense excitement.

“Yes, my friend Mary, ” Alex says.

“That is her,” Rebecca says as she covers her face with her hands.

“I guess that is good because saving one person is much better than saving two,” John says.

“Aren’t we going to save everyone?” Alex asks.

“Look here, I am not some kind of hero,” John states.

“You said there are more children?” Rebecca asks.

“Yes, that Mark Daubrey is in some child trafficking racket, as I’ve mentioned” John explains.

“We have to save them all, John. We just have too,” Rebecca states.

John sits looks with his po-po-po-poker face as both Alex and Rebecca look at him.

“Only some hero would do that but... luckily, I am some hero,” John states with dominant passion and great heroism, almost ignoring what he said a couple of seconds ago.

“But I thought you said...” Alex says as John lightly punches him under the table to shut him up.

“Hero,” John restates for dramatic effect.

“Shouldn’t we inform the police?” Rebecca asks.

“I wouldn’t recommend that as two policemen are in on this. Who knows how deep is the rabbit hole? Either way, they are in on something somewhere and that something somewhere is not good,” John says as he confuses himself with his statement.

“I see. When I tried to get close to Max Daubrey I didn’t find out anything,” Rebecca says.

“Don’t worry your pretty little... your strong independent head about it. I know just where we need to look,” John says, nodding victoriously.

He is thrilled with himself, so much so he has forgotten the crippling pain that the combination of hunger, head injuries, and various substance abuse causes him.

I am just remembering the crippling pain that the combination of hunger, my head injuries, and various substance abuse is causing to me. I guess sometimes in life you speak too soon, John thinks.

The three sit at the table as they hatch up a plan, but as time passes, it is soon time to go back and prepare for another day; also John is on his last legs and he needs some time to relax. They head out of the bar as John waves farewell to Rebecca. While walking away, she turns back once and gives him a light smile.

“That smile,” John says, his eyes lighting up.

“That ass, though,” the bartender appears from nowhere and remarks behind John.

John turns back to him and, as soon as he heard the bartender’s comment, his face turns upside down.

“Why do you have to ruin everything?” John asks.

“I don’t know. Want some salty popcorn?” the bartender asks.

“You know we were having a moment and your popcorn eating and this remark ruined a beautiful memory, one that I would have cherished for as long as I live,” John says.

“So like two or three more years?” the bartender adds, sizing up the state of the detective.

“Maybe even three and a half,” John adds.

“So, that is a no to the popcorn?” the bartender asks.

John looks at him for a second; he takes the popcorn. Heading back to his office/home, he parts with Alex.

Under the dim lights of the city he is walking in the dark again, but this time not alone; this time he has a memory he will cherish for the rest of his life and he has some nice salty popcorn.

“This is some good popcorn,” John says as he walks.

The streetlights illuminating the corny wonder.