CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: It Was Hell
Blair and Horace were just two of about fifty clients entering the shelter that night. Intake took forever, what with the paperwork involved, proving Macomb County residency, a breathalyzer test, a search of clothing and personal belongings, and a pat-down. Standing in line again nearly drove Horace insane.
Watching a man get his face kicked in was only the beginning. The shelter was a very dismal place, and Blair was lucky to be with somebody he knew and trusted. Those who came alone were just targets for trouble. Most of the homeless folks in the shelter were fine. It was the drug dealers, pedophiles, and rapists who always managed to show up who scared the hell out of Blair.
The worst of the lot was a guard who went by the name of Albert P. Such a simple name for a complex man. Stories circulated about how he’d maimed and even killed some of the clients in the past. If a client wanted to live, he shouldn’t call attention to himself or do anything to provoke Albert. Al was the kind of killer who was crafty enough to get away with it.
Horace didn’t like shelters; he said they were humiliating experiences that reminded him of a war zone. Blair never had the misfortune of knowing what life during wartime was like, but he was more than familiar with housing for the homeless. Mattresses and pillows were encased in plastic, but the sheets on the cots were dirty. Lice just had to be dancing between them. The rooms that the clients slept in were hot and without adequate ventilation. Exhaust fans hummed in every corner.
Each person got a blanket, towel, and wash cloth to use. A person could either wear his own clothes to bed, or use a paper nightgown courtesy of the shelter. Blair felt more secure keeping his pants on.
Several men stuck together in one room, regardless of the room’s size, could be hard on the nose. The odors from various body parts aside, the worst was the unforgivable stench of diseased flesh. That was enough to make even a strong stomach give up its last meal. Some guards wore face masks and latex gloves, but not ol’ Albert. His olfactory senses had burned out years ago, and no contact disease on earth would have the audacity to infect him.
Horace sat down on the edge of his cot and looked around, resting his hands under his legs. Blair got a paper cup and took it over to a water fountain. Despite the fact that the water wasn’t gin, it was quite cool and tasty. He offered Horace some, but he refused it.
“Naw, thanks,” Horace said, glancing around as if making a mental note of those around him. The room smelled strongly of flatulence and stinky feet, and the heat only aggravated these offensive odors. A man four cots down belched and then scratched his large stomach. Then he took the time to sniff his fingers after picking at some of the dirt in his bellybutton. That pretty much summed up the spirit of the place.
Even though every client had already been searched, Albert went from man to man and rummaged through his belongings. Playing cards with naked women on them, dice, dirty hats and scarfs, and socks all got dumped on the floor. Not well-versed in the social graces, Albert did his job as if he hated every homeless man in the city.
Eventually Albert grabbed Horace’s sack and dumped its contents out onto the floor. And as he did, he stepped on Horace’s things just to irritate him. He was obviously hoping to find contraband items. “Now what does a nigger like to carry around in his bag?” Albert asked. “I don’t see any underwear, boy. Don’t you have any extra underwear?”
“Yes,” Horace said. “I keep it in my coat pocket. Less chance of it bein’ stole.”
Al stood as tall as his stubby legs would allow and leaned over Horace while holding a nightstick in his hand. “You address me as sir, or I’ll drive this stick up your black ass!”
“Yes, sir,” Horace said.
“Those cigarettes you’re toting aren’t to be smoked in this room. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you feel the need for nicotine, then use the smoking room downstairs.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The Purple Heart and Silver Star Horace had received during the Vietnam conflict didn’t look right strewn on the floor, and Horace was angry about it. He picked them up one at a time and put them on the cot beside him. Al looked down at those glorious medals with great envy.
Albert grabbed the Silver Star and examined it. Touching the small star in the center, he glanced at Horace. “Where’d you get these medals, boy? Did you steal them?”
“No, sir. I earned them in Nam.”
Albert flipped the medal over in his hand and read aloud, “‘For Gallantry in Action.’” The ribbon attached to the star had a center stripe of red, and that was surrounded by white and blue stripes. Tossing it back down on the cot as if it were of little consequence, Albert tried to downplay what the medal stood for. “Earned, hell. You probably helped us lose the damn war.”
“Us?” Horace said, staring up at the little man. Al wasn’t much over thirty, so he couldn’t have seen any combat action, at least not in Vietnam. Blair got scared because Horace seemed to be forgetting himself in front of a sadist. “Were you there, sonny?”
“No, but if I had been there, we would’ve won because I really know how to kick ass.”
Horace shook his head and frowned right in Albert’s face; Horace let him know that big talk didn’t make it in front of men who had already proven themselves. Albert looked down at the nightstick in his hand and then glanced at the guard standing behind him. He put the stick away and straightened up his tie.
Still looking down his pointy nose at Horace, Albert seemed to get off on this bullying shit. He was like a rat dog, nipping at every heel he could reach.
“Okay, where’s your junk?” Al said, turning to Blair.
“I keep everything in my pockets, sir,” Blair said, emptying them for him.
“How did a bum like you get nice suit pants like that? Did you steal them?”
“No, sir. I borrowed them from a friend.”
“What about those reject shoes you’re wearing? Didn’t your friend have a decent pair of kicks for you to borrow while you were at it?”
“Yes sir, but they were too small.”
Albert glanced down at what Blair had spread out on his cot. “Hey, that’s not allowed!” he said.
“What isn’t, sir?”
“That biscuit. We don’t allow any food in here, idiot, because it attracts bugs!”
“I’ll get rid of it, sir.”
“No, no,” Albert said, snatching it up. “You just wanna take it around the corner and stuff it in your face. You had your chance.”
“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”
When Al turned back to Horace, he said, “You haven’t picked up your junk yet? Get it off the floor!” Horace did as he was told.
As Albert moved on, he bothered every man right on down the line. Because he was a little guy, he used the club he toted and the uniform he wore to prove how tough he was. He obviously wanted to be a police officer, but Blair figured he probably wasn’t smart enough to pass the exams.
Blair was surprised to see that the big, Hispanic guy from Fort Worth had made it to the shelter and was taking some things out of his knapsack just seven cots down. Al was closing in on him fast, so Blair paused to watch.
Albert walked over to the big man, gave him a good look, and then passed him up. Neither man said a word, and the guard even paused to take a step high and wide enough to avoid touching the Hispanic’s feet. And that was a monumental task since Albert’s legs were so short and Fort Worth’s feet were so big.
Blair finished the water in his cup. He felt like another drink, but he was too tired to get up. Besides, he didn’t want to draw Al’s attention back over to them again. “What was Vietnam like, Horace?” he asked, putting his back against the dingy wall beside his cot and stretching out his legs.
“It was a lot like I’m livin’ now.”
“How’s that?”
“It was hell.” He looked at Blair quizzically. “Don’t you recognize hell when you see it?”
“Tell me some more about the time you spent over there.”
“Well, what do you wanna know? It was hot as hell, there was bugs all over the place, lizards and snakes crawling up your legs darn near every day, and VC behind every bush. That’s the end of the story.”
“Did any of your buddies get killed?”
“Hell yeah,” he said, resting on one of his elbows and running his hand thoughtfully over the sheets. “I’ve seen men lose arms, legs, heads, balls, you name it. I still have nightmares about what went on over there.”
“I’m sorry for asking.”
“That’s all right,” Horace said. “I know you got war on your mind because of this thing with the rubies.”
“I’m getting paranoid. I feel like dumping them in a river somewhere.”
Horace’s face fell into a sore disfavor. “You gonna dump them rocks in the river, huh? After friends of yourn died because of ’em.”
“Well, what should I do with them?”
“They’re precious things, them rubies. So’s friendship. That Thomas Abbott sounded like a real sweet fella. Make them rubies stand for his life somehow, but don’t go tossin’ ’em away like they don’t mean nothin’!”
“How should I make them stand for his life?”
“You the man with all the degrees on the wall. You figure it out.”
Blair nodded, getting up and stretching a little. “I’m going to get some more water. Do you want some?”
“Nope,” Horace said, rolling onto his stomach and then resting his hands under his chin. “I don’t drink nothin’ pass six-thirty in a place like this.”
“Why don’t you want to drink anything after six-thirty?”
“I don’t wanna hafta go to the bathroom when the lights get turned off.”
Blair laughed, not quite getting the point of that, but it sounded funny anyway. “Afraid you might miss the pot?”
“Something like that.”
Grabbing his cup and then heading for the water fountain again, Blair filled it to the brim. As he did, he looked around at some of the other men. The Hispanic fellow was now sitting on his cot with a framed eight-by-ten of Betty Boop propped up beside it. Six miniature figurines of Betty were scattered on the floor at his feet. The Fort Worth native clenched his knapsack tight in his fist, watching people cautiously as they passed by. God help the man who tried to take any of his stuff away from him.
While he was up, Blair took a trip to the men’s room downstairs, still chuckling over what Horace had said about the lights.