It never occurred to Warden Mack that he should change his name when he barely escaped his life of crime and violence. It also never crossed his mind that he hadn’t escaped it.
Once he left Ersona, he figured his troubles were all over. He just needed to survive with nothing and do that in a place where he could disappear. So, his nickname for thirty years seemed fine.
After two days hiding from, well, everything in the outers of Hatra, Macky was cold, tired, and full of holes. The sand fleas had chewed him raw over every inch of exposed skin on his ankles and hands. A few had even made it to his face and neck. Macky was a mess and needed help.
This was precisely when he ran into a tall, red-headed stranger on the cobblestone path a half kilometer from the wall of Hatra. The man barely nudged to the side, but Macky staggered and nearly fell down.
“Excuse me, maybe,” Macky said, barely more than a whisper.
“Well, don’t ya look like a crap-sack full of half-dead snakes? Y’okay there, pebbles?” the big man didn’t back away. He was the first one to hold his ground since Macky arrived in Hatra
“Ohhmmm. Not as much dead as the snakes, maybe. But a crap-sack is what’s left, sure.” Macky said, tugging at his filthy shirt and glancing up at the stranger towering above. He had no choice, since he was at least thirty centimeters shorter than the tall red-head. He looked down again. “Got anything I could eat, maybe?”
“How ‘bout ye’ tell me ye’r story, and I’ll get ya a bowl of soup?”
“Soup’s not worth my story, so much. Have a good day, then.” Macky continued to hobble away, both his ankles swollen, and his feet half raw from many days of walking. His clothes were nearly falling off in part from abuse, but mostly from his emaciated form no longer filling them.
“Whoa, there. No sense in walking away from a soup. I don’t need ye’r story. Come with me and I’ll feed ya.”
Macky stopped short and turned to look over his shoulder at the large man. “You will, sure?”
“Sure.” The man smiled at Macky with a warm and genuine expression. “Follow me. So, what’s your name? Mine is Jayk.”
“Ohmm. Macky they call me, sure.”
“Well then, Macky. I’ve got hot soup in here. Come on in.” Jayk gestured down a short flight of steps to a large steel door that appeared to be a deceptive portico into a really bad situation.
“How do I know you won’t hurt me, somethin’?” Macky hesitated.
“Aw now,” Jayk said. “If I was gonna rob ye, I’d have to be foolish enough to think ye had something to steal. See?” Macky nodded, his matted hair flopping further into his face.
“And do I look foolish to ya?” Jayk said.
Macky hesitated again, then shook his head to flop the hair back from his face. He looked Jayk down to up, and said, “No, I think. Ohmmm. Not foolish to me.”
“Then it’s settled. Get in here out of the sun. You might just blow away in a stiff breeze if ye don’t.” Jayk turned and headed down and through the door without looking back.
Macky followed after thinking about his options.
Inside, his eyes adjusted slowly to the much darker space. It was well lit enough, but still many times darker than the sun-lit streets and light stucco-surfaced mud huts on either side of hard-packed blood-dust streets.
He stepped into a large expanse of tables, and half-levels with more tables. A large bar dominated the far wall. His eyes traced the tall figure he’d met outside. Jayk. His name was outside on the wall. Macky stalked to the bar slowly, where Jayk had already ladled out a bowl of thick, dark stew full of roots, spices, and some small chunks of white meat. Jayk set out a large pea-bread roll. Macky looked back and forth between the food and Jayk, and sat down.
“Yurmmm. This looks good, maybe. But.” Macky looked up at Jayk. “No doses. I have to work it off, sure?”
“If ye want to. Now get busy eating, while it’s hot.”
“Kayy-oh. Do you have salve, maybe? I got the bites bad, sure.” He attempted a smile, but his crooked teeth were filthy from eating raw roots and scrub bush bark for many days.
“Y’bet,” Jayk said, and waived to his regular barkeeper. “I survived some days in the dust sea myself, so I know what ye need. Finish up and ye can head back and get cleaned up. Salve too.”
His mouth already full, Macky nodded and mumbled through a thank you.
“This is Macky. Let the man eat until he can’t,” Jayk said to the bartender. “Then set him up with a shower and the spare room fer the night.” Macky coughed and some food spit out on his sleeve, but it wasn’t enough to notice with the filth of his clothes. “And get him something fresh to wear. Burn those as soon as ye can.” Jayk turned and smiled again at Macky, who had stopped stuffing his face.
“Why you helping me, much?”
“Seems right.” Jayk gave a nod and turned to walk away.
“No. Tell me what I can do back, sure.” His eyes pleaded with the giant man.
Jayk shifted his weight and leaned on the bar. “Tell ye what. Get yerself together and I’ll have ye help me finish the pickup I was headed for when we bumped into each other. Good?”
“A start. Sure.”
“Then we’re squared off, Macky. Don’t even worry about it.” Jayk slapped the stone bar top a few times quickly, spun on his heel, and left.
“Squares and circles. I will help you, sure.” Macky buried his face back in the bowl, making sure that the only drop to be lost would be what landed in his scraggly beard. As he continued to stuff food into his mouth Macky occasionally mumbled. “Squares and circles.” Or, “Help you. Sure. Sure.”
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