One Eye On The Darkness

Chapter Fifteen

"Heilige Scheisse!"

Joe 'Papa' Ratzinger swore as he turned into Hansaring and was hit full in the face by a sudden blast of wind and rain. He struggled to keep his balance, but he was no match for the heavy delivery cycle loaded with morning newspapers. It skewed sideways, taking Joe with it, and sent him sprawling on the pavement.

"Verdammt!" he swore again, wishing for the millionth time that he worked in a cosy office somewhere, like his younger brother, Kurt, away from the elements. But that would never happen. Kurt was the brainier twin -- the Gymnasium's former sweetheart, and pride of Munster University. Meanwhile, Joe had nothing to show for his time in the Hauptschule. His only claim to fame was sharing his name with the pontiff. Whoever sat in the Vatican, he would always be 'Papa' to his friends. But he could hardly take credit for that.

Using language that would normally never be heard crossing papal lips, at least not in the middle of the street at four in the morning, Joe began to get up. His grazed palms smarted, and his right knee throbbed. He hoped that he could still ride the bike. He could not risk jeopardising his job as a Zeitungzusteller. Newspaper delivering was a shit job; but at least it was a job, and a guaranteed and regular source of much-needed income.
     
He turned to pick up his cycle. Several newspapers had fallen out of a panier and were plastered to the wet pavement. Joe swore again and pulled the hood of his waterproof coat tighter over his head. That was at least fifty cents' worth of pay in the gutter if he didn't have enough reserve papers to cover the loss.

He bent and hauled the delivery cycle up, noticing that its fall had also toppled a couple of wheelie bins standing at the kerbside. More language spilled from Joe's lips as he briefly considered leaving the rubbish strewn in the gutter. It was tempting given that he was pissed off and pushed for time. But he had no idea who might be watching even at this early hour. Any grouchy old insomniac bastard could be peering from any of the windows of the old apartment buildings either side of the street, and wouldn't think twice about grassing him up to the police.
     
"Scheisse!" he growled again, the rain dripping from his beard. For the sake of five minutes, it wasn't worth the risk.

The early morning sky was paling in the few gaps between the boiling rain clouds as Joe began to gather the scattered rubbish together, cursing constantly as the wind and rain hampered his attempt. He managed to scoop up a bundle of paper that stank like shit, clutching it tightly to his chest to stop it flying away into the wind.
     
He all but succeeded. Had the car not suddenly roared out of nowhere, screeching out of Albersloherweg, radio blaring, then he would not have jumped back, and the small, foul-smelling packet would not have fallen again to the ground.
     
"Fucking retard!" Joe hollered after the receding car. Fucking boy racers!

Fuming, he bent to retrieve the stray parcel. By the dim grey light, he saw that some small, mouldy-looking Frankfurters had spilled from the bundle of paper. They were clearly the source of the parcel's ungodly smell. Joe thanked his lucky stars he was up to date with his Hepatitis B and Tetanus jabs. The shit you were exposed to on the streets just beggared belief. This time it was just someone's rotting leftovers. But there could be old syringes or worse concealed in this crap.
     
Joe snatched up several of the sausages. He hesitated as he moved to drop them in the bin. They felt uncharacteristically hard, even by German standards. And stiff, coarse. Just weird.
     
He opened his hand, peered down, and recoiled with a yell.
     
"Holy shit!" he coughed, his stomach heaving as the severed fingers fell back into the gutter.