The Skull That Bleeds
By Dale Hammond
“You’ve been taking all your meds?”
“Yes, Miss Holly. Except for the Devratote. The headaches aren’t so bad, so I got taken off that.”
“Well, that’s some good news. I heard you did some volunteering at Services for the Blind. Is that for community service, or…”
“No, no. Just had some time on my hands, figured I could make some use of it,” he told his social worker. He didn’t tell her he was picking up orientation and mobility techniques.
“Have you thought about starting in a work training program, maybe looking towards getting a part-time job?” asked Miss Holly.
He stared at his hands on his lap. “The, the volunteering I can do for an hour or two, and not every day, before I start getting too, you know, out of it.”
“Of course. I don’t want you to think anybody’s rushing you. You can’t rush healing. But you are looking better, especially without those cuts and bruises on your face. I take it you’re keeping yourself safer than you had been.”
He made the mistake in the past of trying to cover up a black eye with makeup, something he wasn’t particularly suited at, certainly not enough to hide it from a woman’s eye. “Yeah, yeah I’ve been safe.”
“Good to hear it. Is there anything you wanted to talk about while I’m here?”
“No, ma’am. I’m good.”
“I’ll be on my way then.” Miss Holly gathered her bag and stood up. “Since you might have some time on your hands, would you be able to help me with something, Dean?”
“Always.”
Miss Holly pulled a small stack of papers out of her bag. Photocopied missing person fliers with a young woman on them. “My sister’s friend hasn’t come home in a few days. With this new thing the Police Commissioner is… well, anyway, would you be able to put up some fliers?”
“Anything to help.”
“Thanks. I’m not sure when my next visit with you will be. They’re doing some stuff with the caseloads and, well, not your problem. Thanks again, Dean.”
“Thank you, Miss Holly.” Dean saw her out of the one bedroom apartment.
Dean knew what his social worker was referring to regarding the Police Commissioner. Commissioner Foley had quietly dissolved the Missing Persons Unit of the VC Police Department, citing budgetary restraints and jurisdictional issues. “The purpose of a Police Department is to enforce the law,” he had said in press statement. “If the citizens of Victors Crossing want to report a kidnapping or a murder, these are crimes we can investigate. But it is not illegal to be missing. If a grown man or woman isn’t where their loved ones want them to be, it is not a matter for the police.”
He looked at the flyers. Miss Holly had only given him a small stack, probably more to give him a sense of purpose than to actually be of help. She knew that he didn’t like having his house, food, and medical bills paid for by social services, and that he wanted to do something to earn his way. As Dean Mason he could help putting up fliers.
As the Bleeding Skull, maybe he could do more.