A horrible wailing shivered Rum into place.

"It's ... the wind," he said.

The sound of crashing steel thundered from the darkness. A lid off a dustbin wheeled out with a tinny chime, settling to a spinning halt next to Sierra's feet.

Footfalls followed, slowly dragging themselves closer one after another. Pained moans reverberated off the stone alley walls, growing nearer until a shaded figure could be seen limping toward them.

Henry gawked down in wide-eyed horror. "Z-zombie?"

"Why not? This place looks like it was hit by a meteor," Sierra remarked.

"Or in the far more likely scenario..." a worn voice spoke from the shadows. Alex emerged, about ready to tumble to his knees - he didn't. He continued limping his way to them. The others appeared so shocked by this reception they momentarily hesitated to help.

Satisfied with his position, Alex slid to the ground, resting back on the retirement home wall. He lifted chin so they could inspect the damages. Lips fat, eyes swollen, nose bleeding. These were only the visible injuries yet he smiled all the same.

Sierra made an effort to dab his face, but hesitated should she cause further pain. "Somebody jumped you. We were warned about this place, you shouldn't have gone out alone."

"I'm fine ... thanks."

"How are you feeling? Can you walk?"

"Walked here didn't I? Had a run in with our two friends from the bridge, and their friends. They did what they could then left. I'm sure it's better than it looks."

"Then you haven't seen how it looks," Rum said.

Alex searched through his pocket, taking out a case of pills. Popping one into his mouth he put the rest away.

"That's the stuff you got from the hospital. Will it help with this?" Sierra asked.

"Not with this, but it'll help."

"Even beaten to a pulp he speaks in riddles." Rum rubbed the beaten man's scalp playfully. "There was me saying a good old beating would straighten that head of yours. Guess I was wrong."

"The pills are for my cold. Last thing I need right now is a coughing fit." He clutched his chest as though the words alone brought pain.

"What you need is a doctor," Sierra said "I've had enough pills thrown in my face for one day. I'll feel better once we get moving."

"Moving is the last thing you need. It's getting late anyway. We should just find some place to rest and call it a night."

"I'm all for that idea," Rum added.

A chilly wind poured through the alley. Dragged by the current, a single snowflake danced before Rum's eyes, twirling then falling to melt. Like soldiers behind their flag bearer a flurry followed in kind.

"Good timing, this is all we need. Looks like it could stick too. Not much in the humour for sleeping in this hellhole regardless of the snow, you up for it?" Rum said.

"Didn't much plan on staying anyway," Sierra replied. "Let's see, two guys tried to sell us drugs the moment we entered, then Alex got the shit kicked out of him, and then we overhear two retirement home attendants plotting bank robberies. Something tells me I don't want to stay for breakfast. We'll sleep someplace safer."

"Retirement home attendants plotting bank robberies? Could you elaborate?" Alex mumbled.

"You don't want to know," Sierra said.

Rum pointed at the white van. "Just remember that van. Next time you see it will be on the news."

"Forget I asked."

"Already have. Isn't it about time we got out of this kip of a shit hole? But where to go? In this weather what we need is a hostel."

Henry stepped up, still visibly shaken from the earlier zombie warning. "There should be a hostel near here ... at least I think there should be. There's a really religious community out this way. Every year they open bedding for the homeless around Christmas."

Rum shrugged. "Worth a shot. Any direction's fine so long as it's away from this place."

"I know what you mean," Henry replied. "It's so dark everywhere really gives off some bad vibes."

Rum thumped Henry over the head. "Bad vibes. Just keep your trap shut, dud."

Chapter 11.

The first order of business was to clear the area in question without a knife in the back. A task made ever harder by a certain old drunken bum with a stash of stolen booze sticking out his pockets.

By time they did find way to a safer area that most dreaded of hours fell upon them, the pub rush home. Slowly but surely cars began filling the roads. The aggressive drive through tactics of some drivers suggested they were as keen to pass this neighbourhood as the four bums.

Even the heavens seemed eager to avoid this area, as the further they travelled the brighter it became, not in the skies but through the scenery. The warm Christmas lighting with the welcoming Christmas decor brought an added glow to these streets. As did the animated antics of all those middle-classed people rushing from shop to shop for some last minuet Christmas needs.

The local retailers, eager to rid the last of their holiday stock, had lit up shop windows with sale signs attractively disguised as the usual cold season decor, and in one case a witch on a broomstick.

A certain relief fell upon them. At long last they'd hit upon their typical Christmas scene, the first sign they hadn't got their dates wrong. So far, Henry's promised-land didn't seem so bad.

Sierra looked at the less depressing atmosphere. Even the alleys glowed golden under the warmth of the streetlamps. "This place looks nice."

"You're right," Rum said. "Look at it, good spirits all round. Bet people here would be nice enough to lend a helping hand to some needy drifters for the holiday. Suckers everywhere."

Sierra sent a harsh glance. "You've got a shallow mind, Rum. But seeing as you're looking forward to it ... you ready to get down on your ass and start begging?"

Rum gave a dismissive shrug, turning to Henry. "You heard the girl Henry, do a dance or something."

Henry pointed innocently at himself. "Me? But I'm the one who told you all about this place."

"And we're in awe at the contribution. No one else here can pull off pathetic and needy quite so well - just sit in the snow and cry or something. If nobody feels sorry for you they'll probably chuck spare change at your head to shut you up."

"But I don't want to."

"Rum, I told you to do it," Sierra said.

"You think I would? Not a bloody chance. How about you, Alex?" Rum looked up at the bruised yet always stern man, quickly turning away when he realised how hopeless it was to even try request something of Alex. "Never mind." He placed his attention back on Sierra. "Why don't you beg for cash, Blondie?"

"You know I don't beg."

"Right ... You have those 'principles' of yours. It doesn't look like we're getting anywhere fast then." He looked back at Henry. "You see that Duddy, you've ruined everything."

"But I didn't do anything. All I did was show the way."

"To nowhere. You promised us a hostel, so where is it?"

Sierra eased Rum away with a wave of her hand. "Don't listen to him, Henry. But yeah ... we do need to rest soon. Alex looks about ready to collapse."

"I'm fine," Alex said, or mumbled incoherently.

Henry posed for thought. "They always set one up at Christmas. I don't see any signs this year though."

Rum glared an inspecting eye. "So that's it, I get it now. Of course he knows about the place, he must come here each year and keep it all quiet to himself."

"I'm with you guys every Christmas," Henry replied. "I knew about the hostel before I became homeless, I used to work charity their. I'd do it with my brother, Leon."

"You used to work charity with the homeless?" Rum said. "Well strike me down the lord knows irony."

"We were just kids at the time. Really, our parents made us do it. They were religious types. I guess they wanted us to be like that too ... I don't really remember much of it."

"So ... is this where you owned that shop of yours?" Sierra asked.

"Shop?"

"The one that burnt down."

"No ... that was ... somewhere else. Like I said, I only ever came here when I was kid - never lived here. This is where we came to church. My parents were so particular about their choice of church they chose one halfway across the city. We spent a lot of time here."

Henry took note of a telephone pole on the side of the street. A damp sheet of paper clung to the wood. It looked so melded to the pole it might have been put up last year.

It read in worn words: food and bedding for the homeless - Christmas time only.

Following the directions given on by the notice, they arrived at the temporary hostel.

Everything about it reeked of a church set up. At least that's what Alex figured when he saw the two men out front, welcoming the endless stream drifters inside. Both men clutched bibles and cried out verses. They were preaching to the wrong crowd, other wise known as the right crowd on empty stomachs.

Rum tried to force his way ahead the ravaged bunch. His aggressive movements caught the eye of one of the social workers.

"There is no need to rush, brother," the man said. "Please come inside. Sleep and eat in warmth and pray in thanks to the lord. The lord gives you everything you demand."

The old man didn't like his tone. Then again he didn't really know what the guy was talking about. All he knew was that jackass was getting on his nerves. In fact, if Sierra hadn't pulled him away by the scruff right then, he probably would have acted on it.

Latent hostility and biblical hysteria aside, it seemed like a popular place to be. The cafeteria had been filled on all sides by the community thrash. It didn't seem likely they came from this well kept neighbourhood. This little set up was probably one of those things the local community would have kicked up over, for the safety of the children, of course.

The cafeteria itself was no more than a rented community hall ripped inside out. They added a number of long grey dining tables, ten up and down, ten from left to right so it looked like a prison hall. The oven those charity workers used to prepare food looked nothing more than a portable gas-grill, like something for a camping trip.

They had to be a little curious as to how so many tramps caught wind of those tacky little posters, then again, it's not like they have much else to look out for. Especially at Christmas.

The smell brought about by the other tramps, and probably themselves, was an unspeakable form of rancid. While the food, a welcome change from their diet, tasted pretty dire, and hardly cooked. The workers were rushing things. With their below-key advertising they must have been caught off guard by all this unmitigated attention.

The four tramps were given a few slices of buttered bread each, a soup dish for dipping, and a plate of scrambled eggs with the occasional rasher piece mixed in. It was all a little cold, and those bits of rasher didn't taste like a pig should. They weren't in the position to complain, so they placed their objections aside.

Alex received an icepack for his wounds. He held it firmly in place, chewing on one side of his mouth. It might have been his sorry state that brought the staff to offer them extra portions.

Rum slurped down a spoonful of soup, spilling most of it on his beard. "So, do we spend the night here or what?"

Sierra eyed some splashes on the table. "Would you look at yourself, you're getting soup stuck in your beard. Not to mention everywhere else."

Rum looked around at the other bums in the room. They didn't seem to be all that bothered with their eating habits. "You're asking me to mind my manners? Here of all places?"

"If you think you're too great to beg and sleep on a cold bench, then you're too good to eat like a rabid dog. And yeah, we're staying the night, I'm knackered."

"I don't seem to recall voting you in as our leader?"

Alex peered at Rum from behind an icepack. "Well I don't care who gets to be leader. I'm too lazy and you're too stupid. Seems like a perfect fit."

Sierra laughed at the old man, holding her palm over mouth to keep the food in.

His honour insulted, again, Rum made haste to defend himself. "What was that? You dumb lanky streak of piss! Apologise for that now."

"No."

"It's a damn good thing I'm too drunk to bother kicking your ass. I'd add another purple tattoo to your face."

"You're always drunk, so I guess I'm safe."

Rum leaned back in his chair, giving off a snort. "Stupid weirdo."

With no more than a sigh, Alex suggested it was time to end the argument. Looking to Sierra, he asked, "Hey Blondie, what did you do with that cheque we got from the off-license?"

"I gave it to the nurse. They really did need the money."

"You ... gave it to her."

"You have a problem with that?"

"No, I just..."

"You can't decide to keep the money because you thought the nurse was a bitch. What was with you back there anyway? You went all slouchy and grumpy - more than usual."

"Well I wouldn't say I'm usually grumpy. I-"

"He's trying to change the subject," Rum grunted passively, chewing food.