After a while, Joe looked up, eyes clear, electric even and took to his feet unsteadily. From now on it should be easy because above his head was a green box with an arrow, saying bluntly, exit. Joe happily followed the box’s instructions and made his way as the arrow directed until he came upon a door set into the tunnel''s wall. He pushed against the door’s emergency exit mechanism, to find himself in a dim lit corridor. Experienced as he was from his homeless days, he pushed on until he found a flight of stairs leading upwards. He groaned slightly as he saw the steps, gritted his teeth and began to climb.
He reached the top landing breathless, hanging onto the handrail for support, and chuckled as he coughed. “ No time like the present to give up drinking I reckon”. Taking another deep breath, whilst shuddering slightly, he exited the stair through a set of double doors. He found himself in another dusty room, chairs and tables stacked haphazardly in the corners, which left enough space to access the doors at the far end. Pushing open this door, Joe was hit by a wave of cold, wet air, heavy with pollution. Joe sucked this deep down into his lungs like a half drowned man, laughing as he did so. The rain hit his face in heavy splotches, disturbing the layers of dirt that plastered it.
Joe paused on the street he found himself upon to consider his next move. He looked at his body in the full window opposite and finally recognised the state he was in. Finding his appearance hilarious Joe laughed out loud. ‘So, first things first, I need money. I need an ID to get a new bankcard and to get my ID I''ll need my birth certificate.’ He tapped his fingers against his greasy beard for a moment. ‘Darius it is then’.
All other thoughts forgotten, except perhaps the gnawing hunger he held in check, he made his way to a telephone booth. ‘Hopefully he still has the same mobile number’. After begging for a moment outside the booth he secured himself a pound coin from a passer by, who so taken aback from Joe’s frightening appearance, almost handed Joe his whole wallet. Joe took the coin and dialled the number, excitement boiling.
*Ring ring* *Ring ring*
“Hello?”
“Hello Dar”
“J..Joe?. Is that you?”
“Yessir, listen mate, I know it’s been a while but I need your help”
“Christ Joe, we thought you were dead! Of course I’ll help, what do you need”
“Aha, nope alive and kicking bro. I need a shower, a fresh change of clothes and most importantly, a bloody knockout meal! Are you in London?”
“Yeah, on my billsome in Peckham, can you make it over?”
“Erm, might be better if you come out here and book me a room for a bit mate, not gonna lie, I smell worse than I look, and I look something terrible!”
“Err, yeah alright I guess, where are you at? I’ll take a cab”
“The corner of Axminster road and Seven sisters”
“Righto, should see you in an hour or so”
“Great, see you inabit mate”. Joe hung up the phone, poking around for change out of habit.
Soon the hour had passed and Darius was standing looking down at his brother. At least he was pretty sure that the familiar voice that had called him came from within the stinking bird nest in front of him was his brother. “Joe?”
“Mhmm, fancy a hug younger brother?”
“You can fuck right off. Why do you look like Fagin’s left armpit and smell even worse?”If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“Long story mate, better if I get cleaned up first though eh? Should have asked you to bring a shaver” Darius shook his head, and then took the lead, upwind, towards a 1 star grovel he looked up on the way over. “I’ll go in first, book the room, and then you go in after yeah? I’ll distract the person at the desk so you can make your way to your room. Then I’ll pop out to buy you some clothes yeah? I think they have a scarecrow outfitters somewhere” Darius laughed looking back.
“Hargh hargh, very funny. Sounds good, mind getting me a burger or something before you go? I haven’t eaten in what feels like years”
“No problem JJ”
—------
Standing beneath the powerful shower, as it washed away years of dirt and grime, blood and piss, Joe thought about his last few years of life, feeling the burden he had carried, hefted away through the drain at the same time. He looked down at his bony body and felt a sense of detachment. How had this weakened body survived? Where is the wound in my stomach? Why does my arm still work? All these questions and more ran through his brain, as he watched the grey brownish whirlpool beneath his feet spin and spin. The events with the man from his memories felt even more unreal now he was back on the surface, yet he could sense, what the mysterious man had offered was truly the only answer to the puzzle he now faced.
Rationally, or rather scientifically, what had happened to Joe was impossible. The chances of survival, not even the stabbing or the fall from a great height, but the heavy alcoholism and street living would give his chances of survival at being less than nil. Yet here he was, breathing, almost healthy compared to what he was just a weak prior, with a fresh meal digesting within him. He lifted his right arm above his head and down again, paying great attention to his movements. No sign of dislocation, disuse, or even scars. Yes, he was a yellowed bony husk, but functioning. He was sure after some good eating and frequent exercise he could return to his former physique in short order.
Joe shook his head, deciding to move onto more understandable matters, and stepped out of the shower. Donning the hotel robe, he went to sit on the bed to wait for his brother’s eventual return. Whilst he waited he flicked on the telly, for it had been a fair few years since he had paid attention to current events. Catching the end of the 5 o''clock news, the news anchor spoke of an accident that had occurred overseas in Sweden. 15 people were reported dead according to the company’s spokesperson. “Black Rock will be doing everything it can to help the families of those affected and we’ll be carrying out a full investigation into why this accident occurred. We promise you that we at Black Rock will get to the bottom of this matter for the sake of the deceased families” Joe looked up and felt a memory jolt in his head. ‘Black Rock. Isn’t the company that Dad…’ his thoughts were interrupted when Darius walked in, carrying various bags. “Alright I got you an assortment as I wasn’t too sure of your size” he looked over at Joe, seeing the ball of hair sticking up out of the white dressing gown. “I think I saw a barbers just down the road too”.
“Good stuff, I’ll get dressed and then we can go to the barbers eh? I’m sure you have some questions too” Joe said, grabbing some shirts and pants to try.
“Mmm, no rush mate, just glad to see you alive.” He took out a pack of smokes as he walked out the door “I’ll wait for you outside”
Shortly after, Joe found himself lying back in a leather chair whilst the barber, Sharif, was poking Joe’s hair with a comb. “So what do you want sir? Little off the top?” He laughed at his own joke and then started yelling at his colleague in Turkish. Joe, unperturbed, shut his eyes, and felt himself relax. A man’s barbers was his second home, and even as the stranger waved around the deadly razor near his neck, his heartbeat would remain steady. Soon Joe’s brown hair was falling in clumps to the floor and his face slowly emerged like a man escaping a hedgerow.
Darius asked some questions of Joe as he watched Sharif’s expert ministrations. “So where have you been bro? I take it you weren’t actually abroad as you led us to believe?” Joe had the good sense to look guilty even if his eyes were shut and responded in kind.
“Yeah sorry mate, I found that after I lost my ability to study, it really was the last straw you know. I began to drink more and more to numb the pain and finally, I found myself on the streets. I just didn’t care, you know, in some ways it was simpler on the street. No responsibilities you know, only the next drink, the next shelter”. More and more of his hair fell beneath his chair, swept up by the trainee barber promptly.
“You could have come to me, you know JJ? I would have helped”
“Yeah I know mate, kinda just had to do it my own way you know? Wallow in my shit and that”
“Haha well you definitely did that literally and figuratively. I haven’t smelled anything worse since we both had that dodgy chinese. Literally mate, you could have given sewage plants a run for their money”
“Haha alright alright, I’m clean now aren''t I. I tell you, it was bloody hard to wash all of the grime off too. It was like tar!” Joe thought back on his recent shower and shivered. It really had been peculiar, he felt like he was cleaning away a lifetime of grime, not just a few years. It’s not like he hadn’t had a wash with the help of charities in the intervening years. Sharif lifted Joe’s chin to begin his attack on his beard so Joe was forced to stop talking.