Oblivious

by Jamie Bowers

  Slowly, he got to his feet and walked precariously into the hallway. He took a glimpse of himself in a mirror and could see the tattoos across his torso looked out of place on his thin body. Joe ran his fingers across his markings as he stared at the shell of the person he once knew. Walking to the bottom of the stairs and with both hands firmly gripped on the railing, he hoisted himself up the first step. Making sure that he kept his footing as firm as he could, Joe pulled himself up another step, this time shifting his weight onto his damaged left leg. Wincing as the pain set in, he quickly lifted his right foot to the next step giving out a sigh of relief as the pressure was released. With adrenalin still pumping through his veins, he moved up each step, relying more on his legs than his iron grip on the railing. As he got to the last steps, Joe let go of the handrail and used just his feet and legs for support. He collapsed to his knees, breathing heavier and faster than when he started. Rolling onto his back, he couldn’t help letting out a laugh of joy as he looked up at the clean, white ceiling through the blur of his tear filled eyes.

  Still smiling, Joe pushed his upper body off the floor and gently got to his feet, straining his newly worked muscles as he grabbed the railing for support. He walked back down the stairs, pushing his pain barrier as far as he could with each step, trying not the let any sense of feeling get in his way. Going back into the living room he grabbed his shirt and slipped it back on, fastening the buttons as he walked through the house to the kitchen.

  Joe went to the fridge, took out a large plate of chicken pieces and placed it on the side. Grabbing a handful vegetables and large stock pot from the side, he emptied the plate into the container and turned on the stove on the giant oven. He thickly chopped the vegetables; put them all into the pot along with some water before placing it on the stove. Mixing the ingredients slowly, it wasn’t long before the water started to boil and Joe stirred it all with a large spoon, letting out the steam containing a delicious scent. He positioned a lid on top of the pot, resting it gently against the spoon that stayed inside and turned down the heat to allow the contents of the pot to fuse together.

  On the kitchen counter beside the utensils was a stylish radio, neatly aligned against the wall, plugged into the socket by the cooker. Joe turned on the switch and tuned the radio into the first station he could find. As he increased the volume, the sound of classical music filled the air. Loud brass and wind instruments cried from the small speaker, causing Joe to uncontrollably move his head to the rhythm. He walked back into the living room and took off his shirt once more. Joe lay back on the floor and did several more sit-ups, pushing his physical barrier. Sweat dripped down his face and torso as he pumped his body harder and harder with each stretch. As the pain set in and he slowed, he turned to his front, pushing himself up and down, reaching as far as he could with every push-up. Joe repeated the cycle between sit-ups and push-ups several times, with the classical music urging him to go faster. Eventually the pain got the better of Joe and he collapsed face first onto the hardwood floor. Breathing heavily, all that Joe could hear was his own heartbeat pulsing in his body as the adrenalin surged through his veins. Regaining his breath, Joe went up to the bathroom and ran the shower. He sat on the toilet and slowly slipped off his trousers and tossed them onto the floor behind the bathroom door. Joe screamed in pain as he pressed the hard swollen parts of his stomach. He could see that the cancer had grown since the first time that Doctor Gable pointed out the inflammation in the prison infirmary. Putting his socks and underpants on the floor with the trousers he took the bandage from his leg and could see that the scar had started to heal and the swelling had reduced dramatically thanks to Francis’ gentle hand and medical knowhow.

  Joe stepped into the shower and washed the sweat from his body, all the time thinking of what his next step would be. As the water ran down his face, he closed his eyes and remembered the happy times he had with his family, all the while being reminded of the situation he has ended up being in.

  Still engaged in deep thought, Joe turned the shower off and stood staring at the water as it swirled down the plughole. He stepped precariously out of the bath and grabbed a towel from the railing. Rubbing his hair and face with the towel, he wrapped it around his waist and picked up his clothes from the floor. He walked out onto the landing to hear the front door being closed. Joe looked down and saw Francis taking her coat off.

  ‘I hope you’re hungry,’ he shouted as she placed her coat on the rack by the door.

  ‘Well,’ she said smiling as she looked up at him still dripping from the shower, ‘you seem a lot better today. And something smells good.’

  ‘I’ll just get dressed and I’ll be right down,’ Joe said, going back into his bedroom.

  A short while later Joe went downstairs wearing a new shirt and saw Francis in the kitchen stirring the pot of stew.

  ‘You sit down,’ he said stepping in front of her and grabbing the spoon, ‘I wanted to show my appreciation for everything you’ve done for me.’ Francis smiled and stepped backwards.

  ‘At least let me set the table and get us some drinks,’ she said as she grabbed two wine glasses from the cupboard.

  ‘Okay,’ replied Joe with a smile, ‘as long as it’s not that crazy shit you had me drinking yesterday.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ laughed Francis as she walked into the dining room with the glasses, ‘it will just be wine tonight.’

  Francis set the table in the dining room as Joe took two large bowls out of the cupboard. The meat had now fallen off the bone and the pot was filled with a rich stew, consisting of vegetable chunks and juicy pieces of chicken. Spooning out as much as he could, Joe filled each bowl and took them into the dining room. Francis was pouring white wine into each glass as he walked in and placed the bowls down.

  ‘I hope you like it,’ he said as he sat down next to her, ‘I haven’t cooked in a long time.’ Francis picked up her fork and pushed it into the soft, juicy chicken. Taking a small mouthful she swallowed it quickly as it didn’t require much chewing.

  ‘It’s delicious,’ she said placing her fork back on the table, ‘thank you.’

  ‘Why are you stopping?’ asked Joe as he ate his food quickly without taking a breath in between each mouthful.

  ‘I went back to the docks today but I was stopped by some guards before I could get close enough.’ Francis said reaching her hand across the table to Joe. Joe put his fork on the table and reached out to Francis.

  ‘I know you want to look out for me,’ he said as he gripped his fingers around her hand, ‘but I don’t want you to get into anything that will get you hurt, or worse. Please stay away from the docks and I will do what I need to. Now eat up, before it gets cold.’ Joe and Francis grabbed their forks once again and carried on eating, without any more words said between them. As they finished eating Francis picked up her glass of wine and took a small sip.

  ‘I’m scared that something will happen to you, Joe,’ she said placing her glass on the table.

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ Joe said reaching his hand out, ‘I will get my family and clear my name.’ Not knowing what to say, Francis stood up and took the empty bowls from the table. She took them into the kitchen and Joe heard her place them in the sink and turn the tap on.

  ‘You’re the only person I can trust right now,’ Joe shouted from the dining room, ‘but this is where the journey ends for you, Franny. I can’t trust that nothing is going to happen to you. This is my fight, not yours.’ Francis stepped to the kitchen door and leant against the frame.

  ‘I’m already in deep,’ she said folding her arms, ‘and I will help you any way I can. We have enough to go to the police with to clear your name.’ Joe stood up as quickly as he could and walked over to Francis. Placing his hands on her shoulders he made sure that she looked him in the eye.

  ‘Don’t go to the police,’ he said, ‘If anything they will lock you up as well. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, Franny. When this is over you can forget
about everything.’ Francis gently caressed Joe’s face with her hand.

  ‘I could never forget you, Joe.’

  Francis turned away from Joe and wiped a tear from her face as she walked into the kitchen. She turned off the tap and started to clean the dishes as Joe brought in the empty wine glasses from the dining table.

  ‘I have a friend in the courthouse who may be able to help you,’ she said, ‘I am going to see if I can have a look at the records from your trial.’ Joe drank the last drop of wine from one of the glasses and placed it on the side.

  ‘I don’t think it was much of a trial,’ he said, ‘From what I can gather I was in and out of there so quick I didn’t even get to say anything. What is it going to prove?’ Francis rinsed the bowls and placed them on the side.

  ‘If anything,’ she said picking up a glass, ‘it should show that you weren’t well enough to stand trial and they didn’t give you a fair chance.’ Joe stood up and placed his hand on Francis’ shoulder.

  ‘I don’t want you to,’ he said as he rubbed his brow, ‘please.’ Before Francis could respond Joe collapsed to the floor like he’d been hit on the head.

  ‘Joe!’ Francis cried, quickly dropping to her knees besides his head, ‘what’s the matter?’ Joe lay lifeless on the floor, the only movement being his chest rising gently with each shallow breath. Francis rolled Joe onto his side and laid his head over her lap.

  ‘Please wake up,’ she cried leaning over his torso, ‘I want you to wake up.’ Joe moved softly and coughed as air quickly escaped his lungs. ‘Thank god!’ shouted Francis, ‘I thought I’d lost you.’ Still with his eyes closed, Joe turned himself away from Francis and tried to push himself up. She reached her arm around his waist and lifted his arm around her neck. Lifting him gently to his feet, Francis was able to usher his almost lifeless body to the sofa in the living room. She softly lowered him to the seat and raised his legs over the arm of the sofa. Joe quickly went back into an unconscious state, sweat pouring from his face onto the cushion. Francis pulled the throw from the back of the sofa and draped it gently over Joe, tucking him in like he was still a patient in her infirmary.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The following day, Joe awoke around midday, still lying on the sofa underneath the carefully positioned throw.

  ‘Franny?’ he cried as he clutched his stomach in pain, ‘are you there?’ No response was heard which gave him the conclusion that she was either at work or seeing her friend at the courthouse. Sitting on the coffee table was a glass of water and a small container of tablets. He picked up the bottle and noticed that there was no label, probably something that Francis obtained from work, stronger than anything you could get from a corner store. Holding himself carefully, Joe sat up and swallowed two tablets along with a small amount of water. He slowly dropped his feet to the floor and instantly felt the rush of blood around his body, causing him to feel off-balance. Joe rubbed his hands across his face and tried to stand, his legs wobbling under his own weight.

  As he started to walk, Joe shifted his weight forward, leaning his back over with each step, trying to be careful not to fall. He precariously went to the stairs and ascended them with care, holding onto the railing firmly with both hands. Eventually he got to the top; his breathing was too heavy for him to concentrate on anything more than keeping upright. He stumbled to the bathroom and eventually to the toilet. Joe got to the toilet and he quickly dropped his trousers and underpants before collapsing onto his backside. As he urinated it felt like it was never going to end, the sound echoed throughout the empty house along with Joe’s sigh of reprieve. Still sitting on the toilet Joe reached over to the sink and turned on the tap. Filling his hands with water he splashed it over his face and head, trying to wake himself up. Joe reached his hand behind and flushed the toilet. He stood up slowly and pulled up his trousers. As he fastened the top button he heard the front slam shut.

  ‘I thought you’d be out all day,’ he shouted as he walked out of the bathroom. He stepped to the edge of the railing and looked down to see Captain Richards in his uniform, standing firmly with a handgun pointed straight at Joe.

  ‘Well, isn’t this a surprise,’ said Richards staring down the sight of the gun, ‘You come down here and we can go peacefully back to your concrete bedroom.’ Joe stood silent, watching Richards as he stepped closer to the bottom of the stairs. ‘You didn’t run very far, did you?’ said Richards as he placed his foot on the first step, ‘I thought you’d be half way across the country by now.’ Joe looked around at the doors beside him, wondering which one would be easiest to get to. ‘Don’t even think about!’ shouted Richards as he got closer up the stairs. ‘I can shoot you down before you can move so I’d think again before trying to run.’ Joe slowly raised his hands to the side of his head and stepped towards Richards who was now at the top of the stairs.

  ‘I’m innocent,’ said Joe as he pressed his chest against the barrel of the gun, ‘I’m only here because I have to be. If I had done anything I wouldn’t have escaped, I would have accepted my punishment or killed myself for the monster I had become.’

  ‘Turn around!’ Richards barked as he pushed Joe’s shoulder with the gun. Joe turned around slowly and Richards pulled his arm down to behind his back. ‘If you’re as innocent as you claim, you can tell me all about it on the ride back.’ Fastening Joe’s wrists together with a pair of handcuffs, Richards placed his gun into the holster on his belt and turned Joe back around. He gripping onto Joe’s collar and pushed him against the railing.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ shouted Joe, trying to paw at the carpet with his feet. Richards tilted Joe over the railing, still holding onto his collar.

  ‘I have been waiting to do this,’ said Richards as he gritted his teeth in anger, ‘You are one sorry piece of shit that deserves to die for what you have done.’ Joe panicked as he was unable to resist Richards’ force.

  ‘But I’m innocent,’ he screamed as his feet lifted off the floor, ‘I can prove it.’ Richards took one hand and held onto Joe’s leg to stop him from kicking.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said as he lifted Joe further over the railing, ‘the fall won’t kill you.’ As Richards lifted his leg higher up to the railing Joe swung with his free foot, connecting with Richards’ shin. Richards quickly dropped to one knee, letting go of Joe, allowing him to drop to the floor next to him. Richards leapt onto Joe and dragged him to the top of the stairs. He took his gun out and pressed it against his chin.

  ‘Stand up you piece of shit,’ Richards demanded. Joe was in pain and found it hard to move; Richards took a firm hold on the side of his collar and lifted him to his feet once more. ‘Start walking,’ Richards said, still pointing the gun. Joe took a careful step and quickly rested his shoulder against the wall to steady his movements. ‘You either get down the stairs on your feet or you do it with the help of a bullet,’ said Richards. Joe slowly lowered his foot to the next step, still leaning on the wall. Step-by-step he went down the stairs, all the while knowing that Richards had him in his sights.

  ‘How did you find me?’ asked Joe as he painfully took each step. ‘Your girlfriend gave you up,’ said Richards. Joe stopped on the step and turned to look up at Richards.

  ‘You’re lying,’ said Joe going up one step towards Richards.

  ‘You take one step closer and you’re a dead man,’ Richards ordered, shaking his at Joe, ‘If you don’t move down the stairs I will shoot you where you stand.’ Joe took another step up, this time close enough for Richards’ gun to be pressing against his chest once more.

  ‘If you had what it takes to kill me, you would have done it by now,’ said Joe glaring into the eyes of his enemy, ‘You are nothing but a small man, a lap dog doing all the dirty work for Tanner. You do know that he looks like the big smart man and he makes you look like the bitch that jumps when he’s told to.’ Richards pressed the gun hard against Joe’s chest.

  ‘You don’t know shit!’ he exclaimed, ‘Without me the p
rison wouldn’t be the well-oiled machine it is today.’ Joe laughed as he looked down at the gun barrel making an impression on his shirt.

  ‘It’s not such a great machine,’ he said with a smile, ‘I escaped, quite easily considering. You’re not worth the cloth that makes your uniform, never mind the badge you wear.’ Richards started to shake with each word that Joe uttered.

  ‘You have to the count of three to get moving.’ Joe said with a

  ‘You don’t have the brass to shoot.’

  ‘One…’

  ‘It’s hard to do anything without your master telling you what to do, isn’t it?’

  ‘Two…’

  ‘Maybe we should call him to find what he wants you to do.’

  ‘Three!’

  As Richards finished his countdown he took a small step backwards and pulled the trigger. The bullet quickly shot out of the barrel and into Joe’s chest, the force throwing him backwards down the stairs. With his hands still shackled behind his back, Joe tumbled down the stairs, landing face first onto the polished, tiled floor. Joe could feel the warmth from his blood spreading underneath him. He coughed up a large amount of blood, spreading it several feet in front of him. His eyes quickly became heavy and all he could think about was Gina and Mary being held by Gordy.