by A P Heath
“I found somethin’ and that man that brings your Smoke, Philp, he took it when I dint have the credits and then Max came an’ asked me where I got it.” He thrust a hand into the dirt, breaking her grip on his wrist and pulled out the food bag he’d unearthed. “And he gave us these. See?”
His mother’s eyes widened as she saw how tightly packed the bag he held was. He imagined he’d looked like that when Max showed it all to him and this was only one little bit of what they had buried. She let go of his other wrist and reached out gingerly, taking the bag in her fingers as if it might disappear when she touched it. Rig could see the hunger in her eyes.
“It’s ours, it’s all ours!” He said joyously. His mother still looked shocked at what she held in her hands. “Do you want water mother?” He asked as he set to pulling more items from the hole he’d dug. The next bag out was food again, the one he’d opened to eat from the day before and then three bottles of water. Her expression grew from disbelief to wonderment as he laid the contents of the stash before her.
Last he drew out the small square of cloth he’d torn from his own shirt and let the credits within spill out onto the floor. As they rolled and clattered in front of her she looked up at him and grabbed his arm again.
“What’d you do Rig?” She demanded it and the grip on his wrist made him screw up his face in pain.
“Honest I only did what I said!” He cried out and felt the familiar heat of a tear course its way down his cheek.
She let him go and sat back, her eyes still scanning over the food and water.
“He gave you all this,” She waved her arms, “just because you found somethin’?”
“Yeah. Promise!” Rig wiped away the tear with his hand and rubbed his nose where it was starting to run. “He’s my friend.”
His mother rubbed her face with both hands, her fingers coming to a stop over her mouth where they stayed as she stared in silence. Rig waited for her to speak, wondering why she wasn’t happy.
After a long moment she looked him in the eye, “What else do ‘e want Rig?” Her eyebrows were bent in suspicion.
“He just said I had to tell him where I found it.”
“Where you found what Rig, what was it?” Her fingers had curled into fists that she clasped to the edge of her chin. Rig saw how old she looked. He hadn’t realised how sick she had been and they hadn’t been able to afford a medi screen. They’d barely afforded food and water enough to survive. Now they could have any of that.
“I don’t know what it was mother. Something round and shiny and hard, but more like softer on the outside.”
She looked at him doubtfully. It was not the best description but Rig didn’t know the words to make it better. “It had writing all on it too.” He added.
His mother’s eyes narrowed. “You still got it?” She asked.
Rig shook his head, “No, that big man he took it when you needed your Smoke.” He looked down, not wanting to meet her gaze.
“I don’t know what you gotten yourself into here Rig,” she said as she leaned forward to pick up one of the bottles. She examined its contents, her mouth twisting at the colour of the liquid inside and pulled the top. “But you don’t get all this for free.”
She put the bottle to her lips and tipped it back, letting the dirty water flow into her mouth. Rig watched her, remembering his own thirst but too scared to reach out to the bottle.
“Ain’t no one gives all this away for free.” She said as she lowered the bottle, grimacing at the bitter taste. She saw the look in his eyes and held the bottle out. Rig took it gingerly and lifted the neck to sip. He wanted to gulp it down, to open another and drink that dry too. He fought to hold himself together and after just a taste he handed the bottle back to her.
“I don’t like this Rig,” She said as she raised the bottle to her mouth again. “I don’t like this at all. All this stuff is dangerous. If people see we got it they’ll want it, you know that.”
Rig nodded, “That’s why I buried it all, just like you showed me.”
She stopped drinking at his words and a strange look crossed her face. “I did dint I?” She said it almost to herself. Her look seemed distant as she uttered words he hadn’t heard for so long, “Good boy.”
Rig’s heart leapt and suddenly he knew things were going to be different. All Max wanted for this was a bit of information and Rig was sure he could get it. If Max gave him all this for so little maybe there was other stuff he could do. He wasn’t clever like Max or big like Philp, but he could be useful. He knew he could be useful and Max had said they were friends and friends looked after each other.
His mother seemed to snap out of whatever day dream she’d drifted off to.
“Get all this back in there and cover it up real good.” She directed him back to the hole he’d dug in the floor. “Keep that bottle out and a few of those creds.” She looked at his hands. “We’re gonna need a bit to get you fixed up.”
Rig followed her eyes and saw what she meant. His fingers were bleeding where he’d been scratching at the floor. His nails were broken and two had come off completely. He hadn’t even felt it at the time, but now he saw it his fingers burned with pain and he felt sick from the sight.
He started to push the bags and bottles back into the hole and wrapped the remaining credits to put on top. As he pushed the dirt back over them and flattened it down with his stinging hands his mother sat back and stared at the discs in her lap.
“What do you wanna do with the rest?” He asked her as he covered up the stash.
“What?” She asked distractedly.
“The rest mother, what do you want to do with the rest?”
Rig’s mother sat upright and fixed him with another piercing look. “What do you mean ‘the rest’?”
NINE
It had taken another hour to dig up, go through and re-bury the rest of the things Max had given them. Rig’s mother had started out shocked at the sheer volume, but by the time it was all on display she’d laughed so hard he thought she might choke.
She was happy, happier than he’d seen her without her Smoke for longer than he could remember. She hadn’t even looked at the little tin that contained what was left of her stash from the day before, but she had taken a pill that she told him Max had given her. She hadn’t told him exactly what it was, in fact she seemed a little fuzzy on the details of her conversation with Max herself, but from the difference it made to her Rig guessed it must be a pretty powerful medicine.
They’d eaten well before they re-buried the food and water. They’d eaten more than they needed to, but when Rig had asked if they should save it his mother had told him that they had credits enough to buy plenty of food and they would make them last because she felt good enough to try to find some work.
After that they’d walked out to the nearest tram dock and ridden to the centre of Henstown to find a medi-tech and see to Rig’s hands. He was overjoyed to see his mother up and out of their lean-to. It had been months since she’d been able to step even a foot outside, but the pills Max had given her seemed to fill her with energy.
Riding the tram was great. Rig saw members of the early garbage shift walking the streets as they passed, pushing their little carts and standing by while eager locals picked over the contents for anything they wanted to take. He smiled when he saw them, but then the thought of seeing Groaner again wiped the smirk from his face.
He had been seen by a medi-tech who cleaned and bound his fingers and warned him against infection if he let them get dirty. His mother had paid the man extra for pain suppressors and more bandaging before they had left. After that she’d found someone willing to part with a pair of shoes, slightly less holed than the remaining one Rig still wore, to cover his feet and stop his daft looking lopsided limp.
It was nearly time for Rig to go on shift so they parted ways at the central square. Rig watched his mother walk off towards the Lucky Red Rock before he turned and headed away to the depot and the fury of G
roaner.
When he arrived at the depot Rig was surprised to find Groaner was not angry with him. He walked through the little side door next to the great entryway for the loaders. Beyond was a short corridor with high windows in the thick metal walls and racks along either side where he and his fellow workers hung their overalls after they’d finished a shift.
At the end of the corridor was Groaner’s office. It was where they always went to sign in at the start and end of each shift and Rig realised he’d never been any further into the long building than this.
The office was wide and long, most of the space taken up by steel benches and thin tables, where the workers would sit between shifts if they had no better entertainment available. After this was the desk that Groaner worked from, although Rig had never seen her sitting at or even near it. She was always standing, usually talking with the workers or arguing the facts of a story with Jay.
Today she was standing, but today there was no Jay to argue with. As she saw him sidling into the office she bellowed his name and began to stomp towards him.
“Riiiig!” She boomed.
Rig flinched, not sure if he should turn and run. She covered the distance in seconds with her large powerful strides and swept him up in her thick arms. She hugged him tight, so tight he thought his ribs would break and his breath was forced from him.
“You silly little bastard!” She cried as she swung him bodily back and forth. Groaner was more than a head taller than Rig and she’d lifted him clear of the floor so his feet dangled. He let out a strangled little cry, all he could manage to let her know she was crushing him.
Groaner lowered him to the floor and released him from her fearsome embrace. “Sorry, sorry.” She muttered as she patted and brushed at his clothes. She saw the bandaging around his fingers and gasped. “Was that from the fighting?” She asked.
Rig looked down at his hands, but before he could tell her otherwise she had turned away to face the few workers already waiting to start their shifts. Champ was there and Brandon and Cherri, all sitting on the metal benches. Jaquil was leaning against the nearest wall and for some reason Benson was sat at Groaners wide desk.
They were all staring at him as Groaner swung him around by an upraised arm and called out too loudly across the office, “Rig made it!”
Her proclamation was met with a smattering of applause and she growled at the rest of the room’s occupants before turning back to Rig.
“You have to tell me what happened, why the loader guards opened fire on the miners, why they shot Jay!”
Rig didn’t know how to answer, she had everything backwards. “Er…they dint…” He started.
“Of course they did!” Champ shouted, standing up from the bench and pointing an accusatory finger at Rig. “They shot the miners who were protestin’ and they shot Jay and Pamlea!”
Rig didn’t know who Pamlea was, maybe the girl who had been with Jay behind the loader. At Champ’s outburst the others were sitting up and adding their voices to his.
“Fuckin’ murders!”
“She was just a girl!”
“They want killin’, all of them!”
The only one who seemed to stay quiet was Jaquil who remained leaning against the wall watching Rig.
“QUIET!” Groaner’s voice overrode them all and the office lapsed into silence. Champ was still standing but she glared at him until he buckled and sat with the others.
“There’s no shift today Rig,” She said once she was sure there were going to be no more outbursts. “Management have said no one goes out until this is all sorted.”
She leaned down to bring her face closer to his. “It’s a right fuckin’ mess and you can tell anyone I said so.” She said in a low voice. “The miners’re up in arms, Management are fizzing at the mouth about losing two guards and a loader and you can see this lot’ve got their blood up.”
Rig looked from her to Champ and back again. “I can see.” Was all he could think to say.
“It seems like you’re the only one what made it out alive, the only one from the comp’ny that is anyway.” She sniffed twice and rubbed at her chin where Rig could see the darkness of stubble growing. “You’re the only one who can tell it true, tell everyone how the guards started shootin’ although I’m buggered if I know why. You’re gonna have to answer more ‘n’ a few questions ‘bout what happened.”
The prospect sent a shiver down Rig’s spine. Everyone here clearly thought the loader guards were to blame for the trouble in the tunnel, but he’d seen it; the miners knocked Jay down and shot him. They shot him dead right there and Rig had watched. He didn’t know who had shot Pamlea; it could have been either side. All he saw was the way her body folded up when she was hit. The memory made him feel sick and he shivered.
Groaner took his shiver as fear and squeezed his shoulder in what she probably thought was a reassuring way. The pain of her clenching fingers made Rig wince and he ducked away from her, stepping back.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “You don’t have to do it today, Management’s sending someone down to talk to you, but they won’t be here until tomorrow. In the mean time you’re welcome to stay here for a bit, we’ll look after you.” She gave him a scrutinizing look, “Or you can go home.”
Rig didn’t want to stay. His mother had been so happy, compared to how she’d been before at least and he wanted to spend his time with her. They had enough credits from Max for him to afford missing a shift and the way Jaquil stared at him was making him uncomfortable.
“I’ll go home,” he said. He was going to continue to tell her his mother was sick but that wasn’t true anymore.
“Your choice Rig,” Groaner replied, “But if you don’t stay you ain’t getting no credits today.”
“I’ll go home.” He repeated quietly.
Groaner nodded and patted him on the back as he turned to walk back down the corridor. For her it was a comradely slap to show solidarity, but for Rig the force was almost enough to send him face first to the ground and he stumbled a few steps trying to keep his balance.
“Don’t let the bastards get you down Rig.” She called to his retreating back and he thought he heard her mutter something else to the occupants of the office behind her.
As he reached the door leading out of the depot Rig heard the slap of running feet on the hard floor and a hand clamped down on his shoulder, spinning him around. He was thrust against the wall, the dirty smelling overalls hanging there flapping around him.
Jaquil pressed his face close to Rig’s, “You got somewhere better t’ be little Riggy?” He hissed the words and Rig could smell the bacco and liquor on his breath.
“I’m just goin’ home.” He stuttered in reply.
Jaquil leaned back and gave Rig a swift appraising look. “That right?”
Rig didn’t know why Jaquil was being so aggressive, they’d barely exchanged more than a few words before now and Rig couldn’t think of a reason the man should be so angry with him.
“Just you run on home, little Riggy and make sure you think hard about those questions you’re gonna be answerin’ tomorra.”
Rig was lost for what to say. He tried a nod, it usually worked when he was out of his depth in a conversation.
“And what are you gonna say when they ask you who fired the first shot?” Rig was really confused now. Jaquil hadn’t been there, just Rig, Jay, the girl they called Pamlea and the crew of the loader. Why would Jaquil care what he was going to say?
“I’ll…” His voice broke and he coughed and tried again. “I’ll tell em the miners shot Jay.”
Jaquil leaned in close again, pushing hard against Rig’s shoulder to pin him to the wall. He glared into Rig’s eyes, switching his head from side to side.
“I don’t think you got that right Riggy,” He narrowed his eyes, “maybe you should try again.”
Rig was flustered, intimidated. “But that’s what…” He coughed hard as Jaquil’s other hand cannoned into his stomach, driving t
he air from his lungs and bringing a tear to his eyes.
“Why…?” He choked.
“Say it again,” Jaquil whispered. “Who fired the first shot?”
Rig looked at him through streaming eyes. “The miners…” Another gut shot cut him off and Jaquil held him firm as his body tried to double up. Rig couldn’t understand why this was happening. He coughed hard, spluttering as he tried to ask why Jaquil was hitting him.
“One more for luck.” Jaquil said before his fist hammered into Rig for a third time. Rig thought he was going to be sick and his head swam as he reeled from the pain.
“Now, who fired the first shot?”
Rig looked back at Jaquil with pleading eyes. He didn’t know what the man wanted him to say. Jaquil let him go and stepped back, sighing loudly.
