“Wake up,” a female voice said. Charlie's eyes opened as he peeled his face off the sticky wooden table. He looked around and found himself in the middle of a dark and dirty bar. Shafts of morning sun flooded through the single window on the wall. By his side was his younger brother Jake and their life long friend Harry; both had their heads nestled comfortably among several shot glasses and empty beer bottles. He looked up at the voice that had woken him, the waitress from last night, standing with a tray full of dirty glasses.
“What time is it?” Charlie rasped.
“Almost seven,” she replied.
“Wake up guys,” he nudged the others. They both woke with a start, then slowly adjusted to the pain in their heads.
“Another shot?” Harry mused.
“I'm going to throw up,” Jake replied.
“Do that out back, I'm not going to clean it,” the waitress said.
“What's the damage?” Charlie asked as he retrieved his wallet.
“Boss said it's on him, for helping out his son last week.”
“Appreciated.”
“... Doesn't mean you can't tip.”
Charlie tried to smirk. He took ten dollars and handed it to her. “Thanks.”
The three of them groggily got to their feet and made their way out the backdoor into the alley.
The brightness of the morning sun assaulted their retina's. “God damn,” Harry said as he shielded his eyes.
The smell of trash that wafted through the alley invaded their nostrils. Jake held back his gag.
“You going to be alright?” Charlie asked him.
“Yeah,” Jake replied as they made their way towards the street.
“You know what I could go for?” Harry said, knowing Jake's weakness, “oysters.”
Jake gagged again. “Alright, this is happening now.” He turned and made his way to the brick wall, beside a large pile of garbage. Charlie and Harry chuckled as they watched.
“Maybe you should go easier on him next time,” Charlie said.
“He challenged me, not the other way around,” Harry gloated.
The two of them stood for a moment in silence. They ignored the pungent smell and let the breeze gently massage their faces. The sound of distant cars and murmurs reached them. Another sound pierced the air: a high pitched cry. They turned to Jake, who also raised his head to the distraction.
“What the hell is that?” Harry said as they slowly made their way towards Jake, and he towards them. They met half way and deduced the sound to come from the pyramid of garbage collapsed against the wall.
Jake reached forward and removed one of the bags. He stumbled back when he saw it. “It's a baby.”
Charlie and Harry stared in shock. Dried blood crusted the majority of the toddler.
“Oh my god,” Charlie said. Harry stepped into the garbage pile and scooped up the bawling child and cradled it in his arms, his face overcome with a cluster of emotions as the shock wore off. He searched for any wounds that would explain the blood. No gashes and no cuts, but what he found made him shake with anger. Scars, and some wounds a little more fresh, cigarette burns dotted the child's tiny back.
“Is it hurt?” Jake asked.
“Burns, but the blood isn't his,” Harry's voice trembled.
The baby's cries began to lessen as he rocked it gently.
“Who would do this to a kid?” Jake growled.
“I don't know. But we're going to find out,” Harry replied.
“We need to call the cops first,” Charlie said as he put his phone to his ear.
“South-Ariel police department, this is Officer Jenkins.”
“Hey Ronnie, it's Charlie. I need to report a... well… We found a baby in an alley, still alive, its got blood on it.”
“Jesus Charlie. Where are you?”
“The alley behind Merlin's Pub.”
“Alright, I'll send someone over. Don't go anywhere.”
“Someone's on the way,” he said as he put the phone back in his pocket.
Harry's eyes hadn't left the child's innocent face. Charlie shared a glance with his younger brother. No one knew for certain and they spoke of it rarely, but the subtle scars on Harry's own arms and back told similar, yet uncertain, stories of his past. He was too young to remember before Daniel Winters – Charlie and Jake's father – took him into their home. Whenever he broached the subject with Daniel, the topic was quickly changed, until the questions stopped being asked. A cocktail of young and hazy memories were the seeds that spread the fiction in his head as he grew. He still didn't know the whole truth and staring into the face of the young and tortured baby reminded him of that.
“You alright?” Charlie asked.
“No. Are you?”
“...Guess not.”
The three of them waited behind the bar, sitting against the wall side by side with the baby cradled in Harry's lap. Their collective hangover silenced them.
A police car rolled into the narrow alley. The tight quarters kept the engine purring slowly. The wheels crushed broken glass and displaced gravel. The three of them rose to their feet and watched Officer Aldo Carter exit his vehicle.
“Aldo,” Charlie said as they stood up.
“Boys,” came the reply, “what the hell is going on here?”
Harry brought the baby forward. “We found him in the trash just over here.”
“Poor thing. Any idea who's it is?”
“None.”
“Let's get him down to the station.”
“I'll come. Maybe you can find out who's blood he's wearing,” Harry said as he carried the child to the car. “I'll meet you guys back home.”
Charlie and Jake didn't go home. They entered their fathers house, expecting to find him still sleeping, but then they heard heavy coughing coming from the bathroom.
“Dad,” Charlie called.
“Yeah,” came the reply as Daniel made his way into the living room.
“You alright?”
“Yeah I'm fine. What are you boys doing up so early?”
“Something's come up.”
Charlie explained what happened as Daniel made the three of them hot chocolate. “That's horrible,” Daniel said as the story came to a close.
“It is. Had an affect on Harry.”
“Poor guy, I expect he'll come asking again soon.”
“Why didn't you ever answer him?” Jake asked. “None of us know where he came from. Hell, we would have thought he was our brother if it wasn't for the red hair.”
“He calls it strawberry brown doesn't he?”
“Dad, we're serious. Where did Harry come from?”
“It's a story I don't care to repeat, or re-live. There will be no peace for Harry there.”
“Is not knowing really better?” Charlie asked.
Daniel paused for a moment as distant memories flooded. “Yes.”
Harry was pacing the halls of South-Ariel police station when Aldo approached him.
“How is he?”
“He's fine, he's sleeping.” Aldo replied.
“So what's next?”
“The lab took samples of the blood. If it's in the system we'll get a name, and that's where we start.”
“Alright,” Harry replied as he took a seat.
“Ummm? You can go.”
“I'm not going anywhere,” Harry replied.
“Results could take a few hours, hell it could take until tomorrow. Harry, the baby's safe, you can't do anything else. And you can't wait around here, if the Captain sees you, who knows what he'll do.”
“I'm not worried about him.”
“Well I am, he doesn't like what you and the Winter boys do. A lot of us guys get it, but he wants to bury you three. You should go.”
“Aldo, that baby had cigarettes put out on its back. We found it in the garbage. I'm not leaving until I found out who's responsible for that.”
“Well you can't stay here,” Aldo said.
“So take me in the bullpen with you.”
“The only people allowed through there are officers and prisoners.”
“So arrest me,” Harry said as he stood back up.
“For what?”
A grin came across Harry's face. Moments later he was being escorted through the bullpen by an officer with a freshly forming black-eye. South-Ariel Police Department was one of the oldest buildings in area, and it's architecture showed that. The old iron bars were held in place by brick and mortar. The cells were located underground, but there were a few along side the walls of the bullpen, where dozens of desks and computers were all crammed in efficiently. Aldo led Harry to the corner cell and shoved him in.
“Stay in here and be quiet,” Aldo ordered. “Maybe if we're lucky the Captain won't see you. And next time you hit me Harry,” he growled, “it's going to come back at you.”
“Keep me updated and I won't cause a ruckus,” Harry said.
“I will. But for now, just shut the hell up.” Aldo said before he made his way for his desk. Harry turned into his cell and sat in the back corner, the most comfortable position, which he had learned over time.
Noon had come and gone. Charlie left Jake back home and made his way to his girlfriend’s apartment. He rang the buzzer and waited.
“Hello?” A voice said, one that Charlie recognized to be one of her roommates.
“Debbie, it's Charlie.”
“Oh, hey Charlie. Come on up.” Debbie buzzed him up and unlatched the door. “He's here,” she said to their third roommate, Gina. Both Debbie and Gina stormed into Jennifer's room and confronted her.
“Charlie's here Jen, you need to tell him.”
Jennifer pulled a fresh pair of pants over her firm creamy thighs. “I'll tell him when it's the right time, I promise.”
“It's not fair to you and it's not fair to him. You need to talk to him,” Gina pushed.
“I said I will, now shut it before he hears you,” she pleaded.
“Jen,” Charlie called out as he entered the apartment.
“One sec, finding pants,” she called back.
Charlie leaned on the kitchen counter and waited until she made her way towards him.
“Hey hun,” she said as she gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
“Hey,” he replied.
“Come on, I'm starving.” She pulled him towards the door.
“Gina, Debbie,” Charlie tipped his proverbial hat. They gave a small wave in return.
Jake had spent the better part of the hour standing in the shower, washing away what he could of the grime that endured from last night. He shook the images of the tormented child from his mind. Once he dried himself off he fell back into the couch and scooped up the Playstation controller.
“Time to go to war.” He performed the line for no one but himself. He spent the next few hours killing and being killed by his online foe's with a bag of chips by his side and a bottle of coke on the coffee table.
After a time he lay down the controller and went to gaze outside. He poked his head out through the window and allowed the sun to warm his face. He looked left down his street, more apartment blocks that slowly turned into town houses. To his right was the beginning of a long chain of local business. Directly opposite his apartment was Dempsey's, an Irish bar owned by a friend of the family. That was where she worked. He looked at his watch, she was due to start in five minutes which meant she should show up at any moment. He waited patiently, enjoying the breeze.
There she was. Becky. The girl he hadn't been able to take his eyes off for the past two years. She made her way from the left towards the bar. He stared at her from above, hidden in her peripherals no doubt, but she didn't know how he craved her.
Jake admired her long brown curls and slender build. His imagination tortured him with what forms of perfection rested beneath her shirt and bra. “You drive me crazy,” he said. The wind took his words with it, far from Becky's unsuspecting ears. The phone rang and snapped him from his trance.
“Hello, Jake here,” he said.
“Jake! It's Lewis, I need a favour.”
“And what would that be?”
“I need you to cover a shift in the cab. I'm at the Green Door, at a poker tournament. I've been here all night man and there's still four tables left. I got a big chance to make bank on this one.”
“Isn't that what you said last time? And weren't you the bubble?”
“Not this time, I can feel it,” Lewis said.
“What's the prize money?”
“More than I make in a month. We've got a break coming up in an hour. I'll go sign in at work, grab the keys, then meet you here. Alright?”
“I'll be there,” Jake said as he hung up.
Far up the same street, Charlie was walking hand in hand with Jen. Her grip was looser than usual, but he paid no attention to it. Thoughts of what she had to tell him plagued her, but her courage was not quite there. They came across a construction site with hundreds of posters plastered along the perimeter walls.
“Check it out,” Charlie said with a smile, “Jack the Tripper's going to be playing next weekend at The Walrus.”
“Wow,” Jen replied. “Jackie Moran. He used to be so shy in school.”
“Probably didn't help that Harry called him Jackie Moron. He's getting pretty big apparently, I think he's got two albums out.”
“Good for him.”
“You want to go check out his show?”
She knew saying yes wasn't the right thing to do, but she did it anyway. The couple walked on for a while until they found a place to sit and eat.
Meanwhile Harry had been sitting in the same spot for the past few hours. He nestled up against the corner of the cell, waiting. He was staring at the faded scars on the underside of his own arms when Aldo approached the bars. He had iced his eye already, but it didn't stop the swelling.
“What's the news?” Harry asked.
“No news. We checked missing persons, nothing popped. The lab is still working on the blood. That's what I tried to tell you, this could take some time.” Aldo unlocked the cell and stepped aside. “Go make yourself useful outside.”
“Alright,” Harry said reluctantly, “sorry about hitting you.”
“Don't sweat it, I'll tap you back one of these days,” Aldo grinned.
“Keep me updated?”
“Yeah. Now get out of here before the Cap sees you.”
Harry stepped into the sun, he took a deep breath, gathered himself and put one foot in front of the other. Twenty minutes of a gentle stroll brought him to an old friends house. A very old friend, with some old information. The only other person besides Daniel Winters who knew where Harry came from. The only other person who was there. Harry knocked on the front door of the cream house. He heard movement inside and stepped back; the porch creaked under his feet.
“Harry!” Arianna joyfully screamed as she shoved aside the screen door and embraced him not unlike a loving mother. “Oh my God, we haven't seen you in too long,” she said as she pinched his cheeks and ran her hand through his hair.
“Hey Ari,” Harry smiled back, “it's nice to see you again. Is Patch here?”
“Yeah, come on in please.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. From Harry's recollection, the inside of the house hadn't changed much in the past year. He was brought to the living room, where he found Patch sitting shirtless and backwards on a wooden chair with the TV directly in front of him.
“Adding to the collection?” Harry asked, referring to the dozens of tattoo's already decorating his thick leathery skin.
“Good to see you again Harry,” Patch smiled through his thick grey moustache. Harry walked up to him and planted a kiss on his head.
“You too. What are you working on?” Harry said as he stepped behind him and took in once more the mosaic of tattoo's adorning his entire back. Some were as old Harry, some even older, and some, like the one his wife was working on now, were fresh installations.
“A new design I've been working on,” Arianna said as she took her seat behind her husband. She held up a crudely drawn sketch on a piece of paper of a yin and yang bordered by snakes eating each other at the tails.
“Are you free-handing it?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you never did that,” Harry asked, impressed.
“She's getting better,” Patch said. “This was her first attempt at free-hand,” he pointed at his bicep.
Harry laughed. Arianna slapped her husband in the back.
“Will you shut up about that. I told you a million times I'm sorry.”
“I'm just telling him it's supposed to look like a lion not a house cat.”
“There are drinks in the fridge if you want some,” Arianna said with a smile on her face.
“Grab me a coke,” Patch added as Harry made his way to the kitchen.
“So you're probably wondering why I'm here,” Harry said as he rifled through the fridge.
“Not particularly. Daniel called me earlier, told me what happened this morning. Said you might have couple questions of your past.” There was a swagger in Patch's words that was reminiscent of how Harry imaged a cowboy would speak.
“I'm twenty-three. You don't think I'm old enough to know what happened? Who my father was? Who my mother was? Even a name?” he said as he handed Patch his drink.
Arianna continued to work on Patch's tattoo. The buzzing of the tattoo gun added a layer of intensity to the silence between words.
“How can you question who your father is? Who taught you how to ride a bike?”
“Danny did,” Harry replied.
“Who taught you how to shave?”
“I get the picture.”
“Who?” Patch pushed.
“Danny.”
“And who taught you how to shoot, how to walk the walk.”
Harry grinned. “You did.”
“That's right, it's because we love you Harry. I know Daniel feels it the same. It is as if you are my flesh and blood and I would suffer for you gladly. Now believe me Harry, you don't even want a name. Because once you know a name, you will never un-know it. Leave it in the past son, trust me,” Patch said.
At that moment Harry's phone rang. He placed it to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Harry, it's Aldo. The results came back from that blood.”
“Twenty minutes after I leave?”
“Yeah, alright I'm sorry. Just listen. It's from a woman, Serena Cawfley. We're heading to her apartment now.”