Dziwna Kapliczka P2

Fifteen minutes later Janda was being interviewed by a police sergeant in paramilitary getup. In his drunk vision he saw him. The roughshod jackboot, the black trousers, the blue paramilitary jacket under the black vest. Toolbelt with pistol. His nametag read Jaraszkiewicz. He wore a blue beret. His left arm was a barebone augment. He had expected such a creature as him and he had drunk as much as possible to ease the interview. He volunteered what he knew of the foul dishevelment that had importuned him unawares filthy to the rings.

Describe them, said the sergeant.

They were…looked expensive. Not taken care of but valuable. They had gems. Ruby, malachite, emeralds. I think they were gold, some silver.

How many did you count?

A few on each finger.

Anything else?

No.

You work at nr 5 down the street?

Yes.

What is your speciality?

I am a radiologist.

Dayshift?

Yes. Third floor. Thats where radiology is.

Thank you.

Is that all?

Thats all.

Are there Russians you know…he wafted his drink to indicate the general surroundings, roaming.

I dont think so.

What happened on the bridge? At Garbarska?

Fire. They got it under control a few minutes ago.

Really.

Im not a liar.

Outside was a circular lightning of police lights. Cruisers screamed down their sirens wailing as though after a tied silver tongue. The sergeant moved on. He ordered a full bottle of Sabiur, that classy liquor disdained by men and began to drink straight from the bottle. After a while he set his head on the bar. Sirens woke him. There was an uneasy air in the pub. He looked out the window and saw a silhouette sprint past. His phone vibrated against his thigh. He took it out. Five missed calls. Thirteen texts. Some of the calls were from numbers, others from words. He turned his phone off. When he woke a third time the bar was all but empty and it not midnight. He ordered another drink. The fourth time he raised his head from the cool wetness of the bar it was to gaze into the angry face of Musial.

Janda looked his colleague up and down. He was still in scrubs and blood was down his front. To be anywhere but here. He thought of what to say but no words came out.

Is your phone off? demanded Musial.

No.

Three hours Janda. Youre on call until three hours after shift.

When…when…

Get up weve been recalled.

Im off. Its…its shit…when is it? He pulled out his phone to look but it was off.

Its past 23:00.

Thats more than three hours.

Bartender. Give me some szybkie.

The bartender got a blister packet from the shelf and tossed it. Musial caught the packet and pushed two capsules through the foil.

Take them.

Janda had both his hands flat on the bar and his head was hanging in the space betwixt them. Im off.

Youre either coming to the hospital as an employee or a fucking patient.

Im not-

Janda was unaccountably on the floor. His jaw aching. He started to get up and this time he saw the fist, the uppercut. Blood spurted out of his lip.

Yeah, yeah, said Musial. You coming.

Janda spat blood.

Are you coming?

Fuck. Janda began to murmur.

Tired off dealing with your shit. Going to box some knowl-

Janda held up his hand. Fucks sake I said Im coming.

Back to the hospital and brisk.

Its been fucking hectic, said Musial. Everyone decided to lose their minds on the same night. And it isnt even friday.

Were not a burn center.

What?

I said were not a burn center. Why arent they going to Samodzielny?

It wasnt the fire. Its riots. The athiest thrust.

The fucking…are you serious? Wheres my car.

Janda turned to depart but Musial was a wrestler and he arm dragged him back and hazed him forward.

What time did the game start? In Sao Paulo?

This isnt soccer hooligans. Take the Szybkie. Take this seriously.

Janda searched his pockets for the capsules. He pulled out two blue glowing capsules covered in lint. He popped them dry. A grotesque sobriety overcame him. He shuddered violently and his fingers flexed like a dying spider’s.

Goddamn.

Dont use the lords name in vain.

I hate that feeling.

Clarity?

Sobriety.

For the haze had drained away and all was in a state of unnatural clearness and his vision sharp equally at the center and the edge.

What about Nr 4?

Theyre on diversion.

What about Wiejski?

Diversion.

Walęga?

Diversion.

Night of grudges.

You tell me. All I know is were about to palm the flood.

Why do we care about fisticuffing hooligans.

Why do we care about washed out punks who need a bottle of shampoo emptied in their ass? Hurry up. I dont care about your problems. Tak? You took a job. You do it.

Yes they hired a machine. I cannot feel. Excellent.

I dont know what your problem is.

Sullen the voice that gave the reply. You dont care anyways.

Exactly right. Whatever they are check them at the door.

What do you think Ive been doing?

No one knows what the fuck youve been doing.

I bet.

Musial arrested him by the shoulder. They walked the way back in grudging silence. Prudent as he was Musial paused at the crosswalk to look both ways and good he did for two cars went racing past and a police cruiser followed leaving a blaring ring in the ears.

They hustled across. In the parking lot Musial said: I dont know what heinous shit you have on the dyrektor that he hasnt fired you yet but I swear if you continue in this godless fuckabouts I will make sure you retire with a tyre iron. Understood?

Janda was eying empty spaces in the parking lot. Whatever.

What is it?

Janda looked at Musial. What?

Your problem.

It doesnt matter.

Answer me.

I dont have to. And if Maslak wants me gone he can tell me himself.

Im going to reccomend he does.

Do what suits you.