Above The Law

CHAPTER 48

TEUCH STRUGGLED UPRIGHT IN THE NARROW BED, CLAWING FREE from the tangled sheets but unable to shake the fog of pain. Sunlight poured in through the cracked and dusty window, exposing the dried blood on his pillow. Teuch groaned and went to take hold of his head, but he no sooner touched the stiff and pungent dressings than a searing jolt of pain shot through his skull. The springs in the cot beside his squeaked and a fat man with a dirty but ample mustache produced a bottle of peppermint schnapps and wagged it Teuch's way.

"You need one?" the man asked, then took a swig himself that peppered the dank air with a hint of candy freshness.

Sweat beaded on Teuch's upper lip and he made a grab for the bottle.

"Easy," the man said in a whine, "I was givin' it to you."

Teuch slugged down what remained in the bottle, then returned the empty to the bum along with a look evil enough to cut off any complaint. Teuch staggered to his feet and tugged at the drawstrings to keep the worn and baggy sweatpants from slipping off his naked hips. Barefoot, he made his way through the rows of cots, most of them sagging beneath sleeping men. Teuch steadied himself on the human lumps without regard for the indignant cries and moans.

After a good pee, Teuch made his way into the front room, where a wizened man in a security cap slept behind the desk. Teuch remembered the old-timer from his arrival the previous night. After the drunk with the peppermint schnapps found Teuch collapsed under a bridge, delirious from exhaustion and pain, he and a friend had carried Teuch to the shelter. The old guard had brought out a cardboard box full of old clothes. With the help of the drunk, the guard had changed Teuch before dropping him into bed. Now, with his mind at least partially cleared, Teuch needed to find a phone.

He slapped the old man's face, sending a stream of drool down his cheek as he blustered to life.

"A phone," Teuch said. "I need it."

The guard's eyes widened behind his thick glasses, and he swiped away the drool and collected his senses.

"When the nuns get here," he said, angling his head at the door halfway down the wall behind him. "Out that door. They got one. I ain't."

Teuch winced at a fresh wave of pain.

"When?" he said through gritted teeth.

The guard peered at him. "You oughta sit down."

"When?" Teuch said, growling from his throat.

"A couple minutes," the guard said, examining his watch. "No more."

Teuch staggered over to the door and began to hammer on it with the meat of his fist.

"No need for that," he heard the guard call from his desk.

The door flung inward and the powdery face of a bespectacled nun appeared with an angry scowl and her pale lips shaped into a perfect O.

"I need a phone."

"Your head is bloody," she said, stepping back, her face softening.

"I slept here," he said. "I need a phone."

The nun hustled him down a long hallway and into a barren office, where a phone rested silently on a scarred wooden desk. Teuch dialed, unconcerned with whether the nun heard him or not. He got his man and in Spanish directed him to drop everything and get to the shelter, to bring him a gun, clothes, money, and enough junk and needles to keep him high for a month.

"We don't allow trouble here," the nun said, her back rigid as he slouched past.

"Sometimes it just comes," he said, and he ambled back to the cot where he'd spent the night and lay down to wait.