by A P Heath
After another few metres the big man spotted him and Rig saw him turn and say something into the lean-to. Was he talking to Rig’s mother? Was he telling her her son was home and that he would be expecting to be paid now?
Rig walked on, uncertain of what was going to happen, but determined to face it rather than leave his mother alone.
As he got to within a few steps of the lean-to another man stepped out. He was bent low as he exited, but as he straightened up Rig could see his hair was striped in blue and white and standing tall from his head. Rig had seen similar hair styles on his walks around Henstown, they usually paired with gang tattoos and he felt his stomach tighten at the thought that this man was somehow connected to the awful women he had seen when he found his prize.
Rig stopped, not sure what to say and waited to see what would happen. The man with blue and white hair looked him up and down then shook his head sadly and clapped his hands together three slow times. When he stopped clapping his hands stayed closed together and he shook them gently in Rig’s direction.
“My dear, dear lad,” he said with a look of sympathy plastered across his face. “What ‘ave you bin through?”
Rig didn’t know how to reply. He looked down at his feet rather than meet the man’s gaze. After a moment he felt a hand under his jaw and the man raised his head with gentle pressure to look into his eyes again.
“You’re safe now lad. Your friend Max is here to see you right.” Rig’s confusion didn’t’ lessen and his eyes must have said so as the man dropped his hand from Rig’s chin and laughed loudly as he stepped back.
“The poor li’l bastard’s so scared he can’t even speak Philp.” He looked at the big man as he spoke, “Must be you frightenin’ him standing there with your big muscles and your angry face.” He waved a hand at the big man, “Go wait somewhere out o’ sight.”
Rig saw the big man’s face darken, but he did what the first man said and walked away without a word. Rig wasn’t sure if he should feel more or less scared. The big man, Philp, he’d called him, was frightening, but if this other man could give him orders like that surely it meant he was worse.
“Now let’s start again alright?” The man said as he placed a hand against his own chest, “I’m Max and I want us to be friends. Okay?”
Rig didn’t move, still unsure what was going on. “Okay?” Max asked again. Rig nodded slowly.
“Good. Brilliant!” Max clapped his hands together and the sudden noise made Rig flinch.
Max parted his arms, holding his palms open and smiling to show he meant no harm, “Whoa, whoa my little friend. I told you, I want us to get along. I’m not gonna hurt you none.”
Rig allowed himself to relax a little. He leaned sideways, trying to see around Max and into the lean-to, trying to see if his mother was ok.
Max saw his glance, “She’s fine.” He said as if answering a question Rig hadn’t asked. “She’s better now than she ‘as been for some time by my reckonin’.” He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. “Philp had ‘er good and hooked on the Smoke, but your friend Max has given her somethin’ much better.” He looked back at Rig, “She’ll be out for a while, but she’ll still be feelin’ pretty good when she wakes up.” His smile was broad and Rig felt himself relaxing further.
“What…what do you want?” He asked, hearing how small and fragile his own voice sounded.
Max dropped his head to one side, giving Rig a pitying look. “I already told you, I jus’ wants to be friends.” He leaned forward, “You look like you could do with a friend like me.” Max winked as he spoke.
Rig was tired, too tired to try to figure out what was going on and not sure he could, even if he’d been fed and rested.
“Okay, fine,” he said, “We’re friends then.” He made to step past Max. All he wanted to do was collapse onto the floor inside the lean-to. It would be hard and uncomfortable, but Rig felt like he could fall asleep where he stood and lying on the floor was a better option than falling onto it. His legs buckled under him as he tried to walk and Max lunged forward to catch him.
“Easy, easy.” He said gently as he helped Rig down into a sitting position on the ground. “You look like you’re fit to faint.”
He reached behind his back and brought forward a bottle of dirty looking water. Rig didn’t resist as Max pulled the top and tipped it against his lips. The water had a brackish taste and he could feel the grit within on his tongue, but he was so thirsty it didn’t matter. He drank it down, feeling the liquid soothe his parched throat and breathe life back into his limbs.
After a few gulps he pulled his head away, drops of the precious water spilling from the bottle and splashing on his chin.
“I can’t pay…” he spluttered but Max shushed him and pushed the neck of the bottle back against his lips.
“You’ve already paid,” He said quietly as Rig let the bottle empty into his mouth, swallowing it down with his eyes closed. “You’ve paid for this an’ more my friend. Much, much more.”
Rig drained the bottle in seconds and coughed as Max drew it away and dropped it empty to the ground.
“Better?” he asked as Rig caught his breath. He nodded. He did feel better, but at the same time he started to feel guilty. He’d drunk the water, all of it and not even thought of his mother until it was gone. “My mother..?” He started, but Max shook his head at the question.
“She’s fine. She’s had hers and she’s sleepin’.”
Rig relaxed at the words. He realised he must have looked like a child, a baby even. He was sat on the floor, his head and neck cradled in the crook of Max’s arm while he drank from the upraised bottle. He didn’t care. He’d been so thirsty the feeling had become a part of him; only properly noticed once it was gone. He knew he’d be thirsty again soon. He had no idea why Max was being so kind, it was the opposite of everything he’d experienced in as long as he could remember and he knew it couldn’t last. Nothing good lasted for long in the tunnels.
“Think you can stand?” Max asked him, already moving his arm to push Rig to his feet.
“I think so.”
With a few wobbles and Max’s aid, Rig managed to get himself upright. When he was finally standing and stable Max reached out and patted him on the shoulder.
“Tha’s better,” he said, “Can’t ‘ave you keelin’ over on me now can I?” He turned as he spoke and pulled the boarding that served as the door to Rig’s lean-to aside. “Not when you’re about to see what else I’ve brung.”
Still confused, but feeling steadier than he had been, Rig let Max lead him back inside his little home to see what else his new friend had brought.
SEVEN
There had been food. There had been more water and there had been credits. Rig couldn’t believe the pile he saw as Max had walked him back into the lean-to.
The food was sealed in see-through bags and Rig could see some of it was already on the turn, but it was more food than he’d been able to buy in the last two weeks.
There were bottles of the same brownish water too – Rig got to seven before his counting was shaky and there were still plenty more to go.
And credits; a gleaming pile of the little discs that stood as tall as the top of his foot and as wide as the flat of his hand. It looked like more than Rig could earn on the garbage runs in a full Martian year.
He’d looked at Max in shock, in utter disbelief and the man had just chuckled and waved Rig towards the pile.
“It’s all yours my friend, you’ve earned it.”
Rig didn’t know how he’d earned it, but he’d never been so happy. There was enough food to keep him and his mother going for days and the water would last even longer if they were careful. He could use the credits to buy enough materials from the depot to make their home nicer, stronger, even enough to buy himself a new bed with more left over for food and water when this store ran out.
He’d cried a tear as he saw his mother through the open curtain, her face set in a gentle smile a
nd her hands clasped across her stomach. She looked so peaceful, so content. Rig had turned to Max and thrown his arms around him.
Max had been gentle, but firm as he pushed Rig’s arms away and stepped back to leave what room the lean-to would allow between them.
He’d told Rig it was all his, assured him he wanted nothing in return. Well, nothing more than a little information. Rig had been happy to tell Max whatever he wanted to know. No matter what he asked, anything was worth all that he had given to Rig and his mother.
Max had pulled Rig’s prize from a pocket and held it up. “Where did you find this?” He asked, looking Rig directly in the eye.
Rig told him how he’d avoided the tram, how it had smashed his cart and feeling the hard lumps in the ruined clothing he’d retrieved. He even told Max about the women who shouted at him and chased him and that detail made Max purse his lips and stare blankly at the wall for a moment.
“But that ain’t where you found it, is it?” He pushed Rig for more detail. Rig had tried to remember where he had first picked up the clothes, but it was more than a full day ago and his head had been fuzzy from hunger and thirst.
“D’ya reckon you could find the place again if you looked? Max asked him. Rig had agreed he thought he could. He had time before his next shift and he wasn’t looking forward to going back to the depot after running from the loader.
Max had told him to rest, to sleep and eat and get himself back together before he went out looking. It would mean Rig would have to look while he walked his rounds with his cart, he said, but Max hadn’t seemed to mind that.
As he left he had turned and asked Rig one last question. “What’s your name lad?”
Rig was taken aback by the question. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Max didn’t know his name.
“Rig.” He said simply.
“Rig, “Max repeated. “Just ‘Rig’ eh?” Rig nodded.
“Well Rig, you’ve done me a favour I won’t be forgetting and I’ll be back soon so as you can tell me what I want to know.” Rig nodded again.
“We’re friends now Rig,” Max continued. “Friends look out for each other. They look after each other.” He indicated the pile of food, water and credits at Rig’s feet. “And friends keep the promises they make to each other right?”
“Right.” Rig agreed with enthusiasm.
“Because if they don’t keep them promises they ain’t really friends y’know.”
“I won’t let you down.” Rig promised and he liked the way Max smiled at his words.
“I knew I had you right Rig.” Max turned away and pushed out onto the street, leaving the boarding open in his wake. “I’ll be seein’ you again soon Rig.” He called back over his shoulder and Rig realised he was happy about that.
After Max had gone Rig had checked on his mother. She was sound asleep, still with that smile on her face. He’d eaten a little food, careful to seal the bag up tight afterwards so it wouldn’t spoil and drank a little more water. He spent some time digging at the floor with a broken spar his mother kept by her side in case anyone came to steal from them. She’d taught him to do it years ago, when he was still little. If you had something valuable there would always be someone who wanted to take it.
Rig didn’t want to think about Max’s gifts being taken from them so he dug and dug until his arms and hands ached and his skin was raw. He dug three holes and split the food, water and credits between them. Then he filled the holes in with dirt and carefully dusted them over until he was sure they looked no different from the rest of the empty floor.
He was exhausted by the time he finished and although his hands hurt, at least the pain in his stomach had eased. He felt good. He felt better than he had done in as long as he could remember and it occurred to him that he didn’t even mind that Max had his prize. If anyone deserved to have something so nice it was someone kind like Max.
He looked again at his mother stretched out on her thin bed and he knew he wanted to feel close to her again. He was so happy and he knew she would be too. Max had said that she’d feel good when she woke up. Rig liked that. Nowadays, whenever she woke the pain came quickly and if she didn’t have her Smoke close by, or worse she’d run out, she would be angry and Rig would be the first target she aimed her rage at.
He stepped through the curtain, pulling it down behind him and crawled as gently as he could onto the bed next to his mother. She didn’t wake or stir as he shuffled up close to her. There wasn’t really enough room for them both with her lying flat on her back, but Rig could have slept anywhere by that point. He made himself as comfortable as he could, lying sideways with his back pressed against her. He could hear the sigh of her breathing as his eyes grew heavy and within moments he was fast asleep.
EIGHT
Rig awoke with a dry throat and the taste of dirt in his mouth from the water he’d been drinking. He felt warm and comfortable, despite the arm he lay on having gone numb. He was still on his side, clinging to the edge of the bed he used to share with his mother. He felt the old comfort of those days returning and realised he could feel her arm over him.
Rig lay as still as he could, not wanting to wake her and ruin the moment he had longed for so long to enjoy again. At some point while they slept she had rolled over and embraced him and now they were lying just as they had done when he was smaller and she was well.
Rig felt a cough in his throat and tried to stifle it. The effort forced him to splutter and his chest convulsed. He felt his mother stir, heard her sigh and quickly rolled from her arm and onto the floor. Max has said she would feel good when she woke, but Rig had been there for her waking plenty of times and she hadn’t woken in anything but a foul temper for such a long time.
If she opened her eyes to find him on her bed she would scream at him to get out. Rig didn’t think he could take that so he scurried beneath the curtain and slid to a halt with his back against the small portion of rock that made up the only stable wall of their lean-to.
From the other side of the curtain Rig could hear the sounds of her moving. She cleared her throat and he heard the long moan of her yawning and stretching. That was something she hadn’t done in a long time. Usually she awoke with a coughing fit and curses and the change made him hope Max’s words had been true.
The curtain twitched aside and Rig closed his eyes to appear asleep when she looked at him.
“Rig?” Her voice sounded thin and weak. Weak instead of angry. His hope built.
Rig opened his eyes, blinking in pretense that it was for the first time that day. He licked his lips, his mouth still dry and looked over at her.
“Mother, how’re you feelin’?” He tried to keep his voice level, hoping she would say wonderful instead of terrible.
“I feel…” She paused, smacking her lips and turning her head to stretch her neck. “I feel a bit funny.” She finished.
Rig wasn’t sure what to do with that. “Do you want some water?” he asked.
She looked at him with her head on one side, “We have water?”
“Lots!” Rig couldn’t keep the excitement of telling her from his voice or his face. He smiled broadly as he snatched up the spar and stabbed at the dirt around where he thought he’d buried some of Max’s gifts the previous day.
“Did…did someone come here?” His mother asked as he scratched at the ground.
“My friend Max came to see us mother.” He said breathlessly as he worked. “He’s nice and kind and gave us water an’ food an’ credits and he gave you something to make you better.” His words spilled out in his excitement. “He said you’d feel better when you woke up but I dint know if it would be true, but you do and he was right an’-”
His mother cut him off, “He gave us food and water and credits?” She sounded like she didn’t believe him.
“Yeah mother! He gave them to me. Said I earned em.” The spar wasn’t working fast enough, Rig dropped it and dug his fingers into the soil, raking it back in handfuls.
“Who is this person?” She pressed again, Rig was too busy focusing on his digging to really pay attention. His fingers scratched the clear plastic of one of the food bags and he redoubled his efforts.
“He’s my friend.” Was all he replied. Rig’s mother stood from her bed and stepped out to join him. She knelt where he was scrabbling and took his hands by the wrists. The pressure was strong and Rig suddenly worried she would start to scream and hit him again.
“Rig, stop and tell me what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He looked up into her eyes, they were bloodshot and unfocused but she didn’t look angry. If anything she looked worried and Rig was confused. Something wonderful had happened to them and she was worried about it? It didn’t make any sense to him.
