"Sounds like you've got a bit of perspective too, eh?
"Listen, I don't want to press. You don't have to tell me what happened to you. I probably wouldn't want to know. I just want to make sure you're okay?"
"I am."
"At least let me give you some things to help you get cleaned up." His eyes pled his case.
The idea of getting cleaned up trumped any other options as she counted down the seconds until the clothing shop opened. Hatch stood. Being only two inches shorter than the six-foot man shocked him.
"I didn't realize you were so tall."
"Just the way I was made." Hatch gave a shrug.
"I didn't mean it that way. I have a change of clothes in the back that just might fit."
She looked down at the dark smears on her pants and shirt, knowing full well that not all of it was dirt. The smell of her own stink had stopped registering with her a while ago but seeing the expression on Javier's face told her it was bad. "I think I might take you up on that offer."
"They were my son's."
"How old?"
"Dead."
"I'm sorry," Hatch said. He gave a smile, but not as genuine. He struggled to mask his pain. Hatch recognized the look, having seen it in herself too many times to count.
Azul sighed as he led Hatch out of the alleyway to the back of the ambulance. "It's not a safe place by any reasonable measure. Lot of bad people out here doing bad things. But there's lots of good being done by good people."
"Your vision of retirement may not be what other people envision, but I'm sure the people you serve are grateful. I sure am."
Azul opened the doors and climbed inside. He slithered his way down the neatly packed rows of shelves containing Tylenol and other over-the-counter drugs. Boxes of diapers filled a corner along with bottles of water and other odds and ends. He stooped at the dividing wall separating the cab from the back. Azul grabbed a yellow plastic grocery bag tucked beside a stack of baby formula. He returned a moment later, bag in hand which he handed to Hatch.
The bag contained a pair of jeans, worn thin at the knees but otherwise in good condition. Underneath was a long-sleeved collarless white cotton t-shirt.
"Sorry. I know it's getting warm. Maybe you can tear the sleeves off if you need to."
"This is more than generous. It's perfect." She looked at the white fabric and her dirty hand holding the bag it was in. "Mind if I use one of those water bottles to rinse off a bit?"
"I've got something better." The smile never left his face as he turned his back to her and fished around in a brown cardboard box. He spun around holding a package of sanitizing moist wipes. "Use as many as you need."
Hatch went to work getting the grime off her hands, using every inch of the damp toilettes to dig into every crack and crevice. She made a neat stack of the soiled cloths on the back fender. With her hands clean, she set about cleaning her face. A few minutes later, Hatch was cleaned up as good as she was going to get.
"Gotta do something about those clothes." He investigated the van. "It's tight but you can use it to change if you want."
Hatch thought on the offer for a second. And in that second, Azul must've seen the hint of concern at voluntarily getting into a stranger's van. Some things are just universal.
"I'll stand outside and keep watch."
Hatch decided this was the best of all options right now. Plus, it gave her the opportunity to transfer her personal items, cash, and, most importantly, the gun. "That'd be great, thanks."
"Just be careful not to damage any of the items. Those will find their way to families in need."
"Don't worry, I move like a cat."
Hatch climbed into the back of the van. Azul closed the doors. And in the seconds that followed, Hatch listened hard. Nothing. No click of the door's lock. No start of the engine. She didn't waste any time disrobing. Hatch ran a couple of the wet wipes over her body before slipping on the new clothes. The fit was good. The clothes had the rough feel of being air dried. She doubted they'd ever been touched by fabric softener.
She bagged up the dirty clothes and the pile of dirty wet wipes before exiting.
"A perfect fit," Azul beamed. He eyed the bag containing the clothes she crossed the border in and offered, "If you want, I can wash these for you. No trouble."
"Not necessary. I was just going to toss them."
"Toss them? Those stains can be washed out. If you're not going to keep them, I'd gladly take them," he eyed the bag's contents, "I'm sure I could find somebody who would benefit."
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
"No need to apologize." He stretched out a long arm and received Hatch's odorous offering and chuckled. "Maybe I'll even wear them? You look to be about my size."
He tucked the bag containing Hatch's clothes underneath an empty shelf and closed the rear doors of the ambulance. "Where are you heading now?"
"The police."
He looked concerned.
Hatch didn't want to involve this man in any way beyond their current exchange and so offered a dismissive wave. "No, it's nothing. I'm just looking for a friend of mine. Kind of a wild night." Hatch did her best impression of a party going American who let a night of drinking spin wildly out of control. Not convinced her performance was up to par, she hoped it would be enough to close the door on the conversation.
A question formed on his lips and she could tell he didn't buy her story, or at least part of it. But the question never came. Instead, Azul made another offer. "It's a couple miles walk to the station. I've got nowhere to be, and I would be more than happy to give you a ride."
He'd kept his word when she changed in the back, staying outside and keeping watch. Getting in a van and driving away was another crossroads in the establishment of trust. She shot a glance at the ambulance.
Her hand now clean, she shook Azul's. "Let's ride."
Five