Rakitaki: A Jonas Quartermain Adventure Page 3

  "Excuse me sir, I was told to ask you about getting my passport?"

  "Ah, I'm happy to help," the man said as he neatly folded his newspaper, though he still held on to it and stood from his chair. He was older than Calhoun, but had a sunny disposition that likened him more toward Santa Claus. His head was bald, made up for with a thick white beard. He looked like a Wooly Willy toy. He was on the heavy side, and wore a cheery red sweater in the air-conditioned shop. He smiled widely. "My name is Andrew Holcomb; I own this establishment. Have you applied yet?"

  "Well, no, sir," Jonas said as he shook his head.

  Holcomb scratched his head. "Have you started the paperwork?"

  "...no."

  He chuckled. "Have you taken your passport photo?"

  "No," Jonas said. He could see the trip getting farther and farther away with every question. The elation he had felt in the classroom was quickly turning to ashes.

  "Well, that's no problem. Let's get you started with the easy stuff first.” Holcomb put the newspaper aside, then grabbed a pen and scratchpad to take notes. “Where are you going?"

  "Egypt, for an archaeological dig!" The light came back to Jonas’ eyes as he answered.

  "My, how exciting.” The man nodded. He placed the pen down and waved to an empty area nearby. “Now, come on over here, let's get these photos taken care of."

  Jonas paused. "Uh, sir, how much is this going to cost me?"

  "A dollar for the photos, and thirty-five dollars for the application.”

  He looked at his feet and mumbled "I don't have that kind of money right now."

  "Tell you what, you do the paperwork with me today, call your parents tonight, and ask them for the money. Pay me when they wire it to you, and I'll send the paperwork off that same day." Holcomb sounded sure of the plan. He shuffled around behind the counter to find the paperwork.

  "I can't do that... my parents can’t even really afford to send me to school. My brothers and sisters help pay for my tuition."

  "Well then we'll have to do something else.” Holcomb scratched his bald pate for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “You come work for me, stocking shelves and such. I'll pay you two-thirty an hour. You can work the passport off."

  "I don’t know about that, sir. I'm in school full time."

  Holcomb held back a sigh. "Then you can work weekends."

  Jonas looked the man in the eyes. "That is a very generous offer, sir. I think I would be putting you out by accepting a job like that.”

  Holcomb smiled kindly. "Nonsense. You can start this Friday. Be here first thing after your last class of the day and I'll get you trained up."

  “Thank you, sir, I appreciate it. But, uh, how long does the paperwork take? Or, I guess, how long until I get the passport?”

  “Well, when do you need it by?” Holcomb asked in return.

  “The trip leaves on January first.”

  “Oh my, we will need to rush it. I will make sure your paperwork is sent off immediately. It should arrive before Christmas; however, they will take an extra fee for the timeframe. I believe it is another fifteen dollars.”

  Jonas groaned.

  “Not to worry, you can work it off in the time available. The shop can use a bit of sprucing up as well,” Holcomb said with a merry chuckle. He winked at Jonas.

  “Okay. Thank you again, Mister Holcomb.”

  They took an hour to fill out the passport paperwork and take photos before Jonas left. He did not see another customer enter the store while he was there.

  He left with a wave which was returned by the older man and ignored by the teenaged woman. The thought of working a job daunted him. True, he had worked for the family ranch before, but he had never been paid. He had also never dealt with customers, usually cleaning up after the horses and sheep.

  He nearly forgot about the job until late in the last class on Friday. He saw the time and left the class as soon as the professor finished his lecture. He hustled to his dorm to drop his books, then hurried off campus to the pharmacy. He felt a mixture of anxiety and excitement at the prospect of starting his first real job.

  The bell on the door jangled as he entered.

  “Hello, Mister Holcomb,” Jonas shouted to the back.

  “Ah, Mister Quartermain, good to see you. Are you ready to begin learning?” Holcomb put his newspaper to the side and stood. He looked the young man over, then nodded approvingly.

  “Uh, yes, sir.” Jonas wiped his hands on his jeans, then held out his right to shake. Holcomb looked surprised, then shook the offered hand. “Thank you again, sir.”

  “Of course. Now, let’s get you started.”

  He opened the counter and waved toward one of two doors behind him. It led to an office. The office was sparse, with only a desk, two steel chairs in front, and a beaten leather chair behind, filing cabinets against the wall, and a coat rack in the corner. Paperwork was mounded across the desk, on the filing cabinets, and even in the chairs. The coat rack held a large black raincoat and a green smock that had ‘Holcomb’s Pharmacy’ printed on it. The smock had seen better days, perhaps even before World War Two.

  “One moment,” Holcomb said as he shifted paperwork from one of the steel chairs to the desk. The resulting tower looked ready to collapse at any second. He indicated for Jonas to take a seat, then walked around the desk and sat in the leather chair. It creaked alarmingly as he sat, though only Jonas took notice.

  “Today we’ll get your employment paperwork taken care of, then start you with learning how to stock and keep inventory.”

  For the next half hour, Jonas was bored out his mind with paperwork. He dutifully filled it out, only to have more placed there.

  “What’s this?” He asked of one form.

  “Oh, that one is for having your paycheck wired to your bank account from the store’s payroll account. It’s a fancy process we have just adopted.” He sounded very proud to Jonas.

  “I don’t have a bank account.”

  Holcomb took the paper back and shuffled it into the greater pile of chaos.

  “No need for it then. I will tally up and pay you in cash each week.”

  “Every week?” Jonas asked.

  “That’s how we do it here.”

  “Why not every day?”

  “Because that would be a lot of extra work for me, and you wouldn’t have much to take home each day. Waiting until the end of the week makes it easy for both of us.”

  “I see,” Jonas said.

  After the paperwork was taken care of, Holcomb stood and took the smock from the coat rack. He handed it to Jonas, then led the way out of the office and to the other door at the rear of the store. It led to a stock room filled with shelves. The shelves were built into the walls and stretched nearly to the ceiling. While not wide, the room was deep, allowing for a few thousand small products to be stored. Two bare bulbs lit the space with harsh light. There was barely enough room for Jonas and Holcomb to stand side-by-side.

  “This is where we keep everything for the store except controlled medications. Those are kept locked in the pharmacy section. I don’t believe we’ll be having you in there, so no need to worry about it. There’s a rudimentary system here, as you can see. Organized according to what it treats.”

  Holcomb walked Jonas through the room. Each shelf was a section of its own, with medications organized by name on the shelves. He talked about the process for restocking the store and how to mark down inventory moved on the clipboard near the door. A pen hung from a string taped to the clipboard.

  Two hours later, Jonas felt confident enough in his knowledge of the system to start checking stock of the store and refilling as needed. It was easy work, far easier than shoveling horse dung or baling hay.

  At six that evening, Holcomb locked the door and had Jonas watch the young woman count out the till and prepare to shut down the shop. Fifteen minutes later, they were outside in the cool fall air.

  “Have a good night, Danielle,” Holcomb called to
the young woman as she walked away. He turned back to Jonas with a wide smile. “How was your first day?”

  “Interesting,” he lied in response. “I’m looking forward to helping you out.”

  Holcomb nodded. “Thank you for helping out today. I would like you in tomorrow morning at nine.”

  Then Holcomb shook his hand and walked in the same direction Danielle had taken off in. Jonas turned back to the campus and walked back to his dorm.

  He arrived fifteen minutes early, which pleased Holcomb. Again, he was put to work moving heavy boxes and stocking shelves. Jonas noticed that very few customers ever entered the store. Holcomb kept him busy in the back for most of the day. At one point, he did see a very large black man enter the store. He was so tall he ducked under the doorway, though it didn’t appear to be necessary. The man was quickly ushered into the office, where they had a quiet conversation. Jonas couldn’t hear anything through the thick door.

  Danielle kept one eye on him, the other seemingly always reading a magazine. She snapped her gum constantly. Boredom set in quickly, though Jonas kept it to himself. He figured he had already made somewhere around eighteen dollars. The total for the passport was fifty-one. If he worked eight hours on Saturday and Sunday, then another four on Friday afternoon, he would have the passport paid off. With an end in sight, he doubled down.

  At five, Holcomb sent him home for the day with his thanks. Jonas wondered how the store stayed in business when it seemed to get so little foot-traffic. Then there was the mystery of the large black man that had shown up. He shook his head and hurried home. He had school work left to contend with as well as another full day of work on Sunday.

  Holcomb greeted him at the door Sunday morning with a steaming mug of hot cocoa. Jonas thanked the shopkeeper for the drink as he used it to warm his fingers. He took a sip and set the mug on the counter.

  “What is the plan for today, boss?”

  “Today, you get to learn the majesty that is inventory.”

  “I thought I had already learned about inventory,” Jonas said with some confusion.

  “You learned about keeping a tally. This is something we do once a quarter to check that our numbers aren’t off. Try as we might, the numbers are always off,” Holcomb replied with a sigh.

  The door was locked and the sign left on ‘Closed’. The next six hours were tedious. When Holcomb called an end to the day, Jonas had nearly forgotten what day it was. He started to say good bye to the other two before Holcomb called him up short.

  “Thank you for all of your help today. You already eased the strain; inventory normally takes the two of us ten hours.”

  Holcomb waved at Danielle for emphasis. She looked nonplussed, snapping her gum from her customary position behind the register. She had hardly spoken a word all day. He shrugged, then returned his attention to Jonas.

  “Now, you have worked twenty hours in the last few days, which almost makes you even with what you owe for the passport.”

  Jonas nodded. “That’s about what I figured.”

  “So, I can see two options here. You can leave all of it with me to pay for the passport and return for a few hours later in the week.”

  “I like that option,” Jonas said quickly.

  “Wait a moment, before you commit to something,” Holcomb replied with a chuckle.

  “Okay…” Jonas trailed off.

  “Or you can leave most of it with me and take ten dollars with you for the week.”

  “Oh, yeah, that one, definitely.” Jonas started to subtly bounce with excitement.

  “Very well,” Holcomb said. He nodded to Danielle. She punched a key on the register, then took out two crumpled and dirty five-dollar bills. She handed them over to Jonas.

  “Friday after class lets out,” Holcomb said.

  “Oh, yes sir, absolutely.”

  “Excellent! We shall see you then, young man.”

  Jonas waved, his other hand clenching the bills. He rushed back to his dorm room.

  “I don’t like him,” Danielle said quietly.

  “You know we need the help,” Holcomb replied, watching the young man jogging away through the glass door.

  “No, we’ve run this store just fine for two years with the two of us.”

  “You know very well that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  At the same time the two full-time employees of Holcomb’s Pharmacy were having their shadowy discussion, Jonas arrived back at his dorm room. There, he found Elliott waiting. It was unusual to find his friend there, especially on a Sunday evening.

  “Hey bro, what’s up?” Jonas asked as he stopped outside the room.

  “Seeing what you’re up to. Haven’t heard from you in a while,” Elliott said casually. He was dressed in dark jeans and a button-up polo with a heavy jacket draped over his arm. He still wore his hair closely cropped. He had put on a few more pounds of muscle, losing the little bit of teenage fat he had left. He was an imposing sight, despite his diminutive stature.

  “Been busy with class, and get this,” Jonas said excitedly. “I got a job.”

  “You, working? I don’t believe my ears are working,” Elliott said while he wiggled a finger in the offending appendage.

  “Yeah, yeah. So, what’s up? You don’t ever drop by on Sundays.”

  “There’s a party happening at a bud’s place. Thought I would stop by and grab you for it.”

  “How long have you been waiting?” Jonas opened the door to his room, seeing his roommate out. That was the norm, he could think of the number of times he had seen the other guy that year on one hand. He changed as they talked.

  “Oh, ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Wasn’t too bad. I’m guessing you’re in for the party.”

  “Hell yeah, dude. Been ages since the last one.”

  4

  Jonas turned to Elliott as they walked out of the dorm.

  “Dude, I almost forgot, I got paid today!” He flashed the fives for emphasis.

  “Hey, that’s awesome,” Elliott said with real enthusiasm.

  “I want to pitch in this time.”

  Elliott shook his head.

  “Nah, bro. I got it covered. Keep the money, maybe you’ll meet a babe and you can use it to take her on a date.”

  “Oh, that’s a good idea.”

  Elliott tapped his head as they climbed into the waiting cab.

  After the cab started driving, Jonas asked a question that had long bothered him.

  “I know I’m poor, but why won’t you take my money?”

  “Because I’m not poor, and I know how hard you worked for that money.”

  Jonas looked at his friend. “You do?”

  “Not really, but you know what I mean. If you worked at a real job, you cared about it.”

  He thought for a long moment. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Oh, are we grabbing beer?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a hookup.”

  “Look at you, being all outgoing and having ‘hookups’,” Jonas said with a snicker.

  Elliott punched his arm. “Don’t say it like that,” he said with a laugh.

  They joked until the cab stopped at their first destination. Elliott left in high spirits, returning five minutes later with a large case of beer and a sour expression.

  Jonas opened the door for his friend. “What happened?”

  “Twenty bucks! Can you believe it? What a rip-off.”

  “Who in their right mind would pay twenty bucks for beer?”

  Elliott shot a meaningful glance at the cabby before he spoke. “Students in a disadvantaged situation.”

  “You know,” the cabby said in a New York accent. “I got a cousin round here that does fair prices for, uh…” he trailed off as he looked at them in the rear-view mirror. “Students in disadvantaged situations.”

  “Thanks,” Elliott said hesitantly. He gave the second address and they took off. They left the downtown area and entered residential neighborhoods. Several streets later, they pulled up to a hou
se where the party was clearly already in full swing.

  Both young men got out of the car, breath fogging in the cold air. Elliott waved him ahead with the beer.

  “I’ll catch up in a moment. I want to get details for this ‘cousin’.”

  Jonas nodded, then carried the thirty-rack of beer into the house. The music was loud, but tolerable. It sounded like there was a live DJ somewhere in the house. He could hear conversations nearby carried on at shouting volume.

  “What’s up?!” and “Hey dude,” and “Yeah, beer!” from drunk co-eds greeted Jonas as he entered. He smiled and offered a hand for high-fives. He got directions to the kitchen and made his way back. Most of the faces were only vaguely familiar from other parties. He bumped into a wall when he wasn’t looking.

  “Yo, the hell man?” Thundered a man.

  Jonas took a half step back and looked up. And up. Madsen towered over him.

  “Oh, my bad dude. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  Jonas watched the football-player’s pan-sized hands flex. Then Madsen cracked a big grin.

  “I’m just messing with you, bro. Did you bring that beer for the party?”

  Just then, Elliott clapped a hand on Jonas’ shoulder.

  “Sure did. What’s up Madsen?”

  “Ah, hell yeah! What up cuz?” Madsen asked as he drew Elliott into a comical approximation of a man-hug, complete with back pat.

  Jonas looked on in confusion. “How do you know each other?”

  “Madsen is in my Physics class. We’re in the computer science program together,” Elliott said.

  “I thought you were in the Archeology program?”

  The song that had been playing ended, smoothly transitioning into the next.

  Madsen shook his head. “I took that class as a joke, mostly to see what it was like. Couldn’t stand that racist professor, so I dropped it and never looked back.”

  ‘I hear the drums echoing tonight’, came the first verse of the new song.

  “He’s not racist—” Jonas started to say.

  “OH SHIT!” Shouted Madsen. He started to jump in place. “This is my JAM!”