Six Dead Men

by Rae Stoltenkamp

  Joe watched as Deed’s face closed down with a shutter of indifference. He could almost hear the rattle and clang of its gears. He's afraid to watch her die. Too much like when his mother was dying. And then his father met with a similar fate. "You need to change history Robert. Staying with someone who's dying is painful but it will bring you closure. You need that. You've been avoiding it for years."

  Deed scowled like a ten year old. "She doesn't even know I'm there."

  "Oh yes she does. And you're lying to yourself by saying that. Try to deny you can feel the bond between the two of you. Go on, deny to me that you can feel her slipping away inch by inch. Try to deny it Robert."

  Deed remained sullenly silent. Joe and Father Andrew watched him.

  Joe softened his tone. "You can't because you know I'm feeling it too. I may not be in love with her but I'm getting readings off you. The more you fight it the more it will hurt."

  *****

  Ire did not regain consciousness gradually but instantaneously like a light switch being flicked. He was alert and knew where he was without any sense of confusion. His body refused to follow any of his commands so he scanned his surroundings and took the measure of them. An impotent rage began to boil within him. That Bricot bitch did something to me. I don't know what but I know she did. She's got some disease. That's got to be it. She was just too fucking quiet when I arrested her. I should have guessed she was up to something. Fuck! His inability to release his anger rose inside him. That he could not move much of his body either irked him further. When I get out of this bed that little cunt of a girl is going to be damned sorry she messed with me.

  Stubbornly ignoring the fact his body was effectively paralysed from the neck down, Terry tried writhing his body into motion but this action only caused his anger to bubble further and the heart monitor attached to his chest to react. When the nurse hastened to his bedside he glared at her with all the fury he could muster.

  *****

  The guard outside Ire’s room was having a bathroom break courtesy of Deed.

  Ire’s eyes looked at Deed with an alertness which frustrated Deed. He’s recovering so god damn fast.

  Ire’s voice came out from his jagged lips in a slur. "I know who you are Mr Deed."

  Even though the words were uneven the rancour in them was still evident. Deed nodded down at Ire’s alert face.

  A cackle escaped Ire and a bubble of saliva popped on the crooked lines of his mouth. “You’re my bloody brother.”

  “Surely you’re the bloody one Terence.” Deed watched as the stroked man’s left hand clenched in a feeble fist. You want to fight me because I’m the legitimate son and you’re the bastard. All this belligerence — what for? You don’t even know me. Didn’t even know what Dart was really like. But then neither did I it appears.

  “So, you always knew about me?”

  Deed shook his head. “No. I only found out about you three days ago.”

  “Yeah right.” Deed would have thought it impossible for Ire’s features to curl into any more of a snarl but they did none the less.

  Although Deed would never consider himself to be psychic in the way Sylvie and Joe were, there was no mistaking he could see a storm in Ire. There was such a sense of destruction about the man. If Deed had not been of a strong mental disposition he was sure he would have been annihilated by the force of the rampaging cyclone in Terence Ire.

  Instead, he was able to stand firm and clearly see how there was a broiling mass of ugliness spreading throughout Ire’s being. Standing so near him, Deed could almost taste the foulness of him; the sickening stench of faeces and rotten meat in an open sewer kind of reek.

  He’s recovering way too fast. He’s going to walk out of here and Madie’s going to die. He’s going to secure some top shot brief and he’s going to wriggle his way out of all the evidence against him. I know his type. I’ve seen it all before. I’ve stood by helplessly and watched men like him rip people’s lives apart. Now he’s ripping my life apart. Surely I need to do something about that. “You do know our father’s dead don’t you?”

  Was there a look of disappointed fury in Ire’s unaffected eye?

  *****

  Arthur Deed. Ire had wanted to crush him. How can you crush a man when he’s dead? But here was that man’s son. My fucking brother. He could do his damnedest to crush him. To make him pay for all the years of abuse Ire had put up with in the family home. Not long now, not long. I can feel my strength coming back. Whatever they’ve got pumping through my veins is working its magic. CIB won’t be able to make anything stick. I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve. Crafty bastard though that journalist. Lied to me even when I had him peeing in his dumb homo pants. Wouldn’t have seen him as having that kind of guts. I just need to get to a telephone. Wonder what they did with my mobile?

  And as for this fucker. He’s no brother of mine except in that we share some genetic material. Beyond that there’s nothing. Wonder if he looks like him. Maybe I look like him. Hell that would be something.

  Ire dismissed thoughts of the evidence the internal affairs department might have on him. He had been careful to ensure he always had some sort of insurance in place for just something like this. That memory stick would disappear from the evidence locker and any copies made would mysteriously find their way to the bottom of a canal too.

  Terence Ire knew how to cover his tracks. He’d been doing it since he was ten years old. He was an old hand at it now and while people might think they had him all sewn up they were completely wrong. I need to get up and out of this bed and find out what that bitch did to me. An instinctive part of Ire told him Madison Bricot was responsible for his hospitalisation. He had never been incapacitated by illness before. I’ve got an iron constitution. No damn acid bitch is going to rust my will.

  Chapter 27

  Another late night walk along the tram lined streets of Manchester did nothing to quell the turmoil inside Deed. The physical pain of Madie's struggle would not leave him. I couldn't even face looking at her. Maybe it reminds me too much of mum dying. I didn't think I remembered all that much about it. But earlier, just seeing Madie like that... I couldn't help remembering how mum looked in her coffin. I suppose I was fascinated back then, not really understanding on some psychological level that it meant she'd never come back to us. And then dad years later, hooked up to all those machines and drips that did him no damn good at all. Jesus, so many memories. I don't need them surfacing too.

  I want to be there for her. Why can't I? Deed felt his chest tighten. I promised her I’d never leave her again. I’m breaking that promise by being here right now. I’ve never been a man to break promises. What if she dies and I’m not there?

  In his mind's eye he saw how thin the thread between himself and Madie had become and he began to fear not being with her more than he had been afraid of being present when she died. Imagining Madie dying pulled painfully at the connection between them and he groaned out loud to the empty night air. His heart felt over large and painfully squashed against his ribs and he knew now why poets wrote about heart ache. What if she was to die there and then? Deed lengthened his stride as he hurried down frosty streets and returned to the hospital.

  He stood by the window in Madie’s hospital room stilling the frantic beating of his heart. All the way to the hospital he had been monitoring the invisible cord he shared with Madie, willing it to stay intact till he was by her side, wanting to have the strength of conviction for her recovery shared by Sylvie, Joe and Father Andrew. He cursed himself for his faithlessness and knew his parents' deaths played no small part in his inability to believe Madie might make it out of the coma she was trapped in.

  The only light on in the room was a little eyrie green light above the many bleeping monitors surrounding Madie's bed. It was like a halo shining in the dark. The bruising had subsided but her skin still seemed to be tinged with grey. He had been right to come. Just being near her lessened the ache he had been trying to ignor
e all day. I’ll stand vigil by your bed. I’ll watch death come for you. I'll be here. You won't be alone.

  He advanced towards the bed now. I don’t want you to die Madie. I need you. With the forefinger and middle finger of his right hand he touched her arm where it emerged from the striped cotton of her hospital gown. A tingle of electricity passed from him to her. It was the reverse of what had happened in the interview room four months ago. He thought of how disconcerted he had been then. Never would he have thought he could feel so much love for any one person again. Deed closed his eyes and let his fingers trail down her arm until they encountered her fingers. He found himself thinking about how he had held her hand in Sylvie's sitting room and silently vowed not to leave her ever again.

  "I'm sorry." Deed opened his eyes and leaned forward as he lifted Madie's limp hand and pressed his lips to the only part of her hand that was not prodded by a needle. He realised he was crying. Her fingers felt so small and so cold. He wanted to rub them between his hands and brush the warmth of circulation back into them. Instead he breathed warm air onto her chill fingers and kissed each finger individually. He finally slumped into the bedside chair. Then he held her hand to his cheek and softly massaged her forearm with his left hand. Stroking Madie's skin soothed him. He leaned back into his chair but maintained his hold on her hand. His eyes fluttered shut and he let himself sleep.

  The badger did something she'd never done before. She laid a deliberate scent track and when she got back to her empty set she backed into the hole like a warthog. She wished she had the fearsome tusks of that wily African pig but knew she would have to use her teeth and claws instead. Her heart beat frantically in her chest. She wished she did not feel so alone, but was determined when it came to the final battle to fight with her last ounce of strength.

  Saliva dripped from either side of the terrier's jaws. His face was horribly disfigured. He had powerful shoulders more reminiscent of a bull mastiff. Her scent was everywhere and it stimulated his adrenal glands. Then the hole was before him, the roots of the large oak bulging at its entrance. He began to dig. That was his first mistake.

  In a blur of fur she flew out at him, all claw and tooth. The speed of her attack flung them from the entrance and they rolled together. Jaws snapped, claws ripped, tongues tasted the salty rust of blood. Who had drawn first blood? It was hard to tell. The little glade filled with the echoes of snarls, hisses, growls and yelps as the gloom of evening closed in upon it.

  The badger could feel her strength ebbing, but she clung on bravely.

  A clatter of hail on the window pane woke him. Another badger dream. He'd asked Joe about the last one but Joe had said dreams were not his department. He could have asked Sylvie he supposed but then this thing with Madie happened and he hadn't got round to it. The dog in the dream made him think of his brother. Not a nice thought but he couldn't stop himself. My brother, Terry Ire . A thought struck him. Was it as simple as that? Had his brain converted his brother's name? But then who was the badger? Oh! Madie would appreciate this sort of thing.

  All the machines around Madie still kept pace with the fragile life she held onto. Deed pretended they weren't there and he was chatting with a fully conscious Madie. He held her hand. "Now here's the thing. Terence Ire, the man who arrested you and put you in here, he's my half brother. In other circumstances I'd be over the moon to learn I've got family. Look at what he's done to you... He’s the worst of men Madie. There's no doubt... I can see the evil in him." Deed sat back in the chair. His shoulders slumped with heaviness. He leaned in towards Madie's prone figure again. "What am I going to do? I feel responsible. I know, I know, that's ridiculous, but I do. Dad may or may not have known he fathered a son. He may or may not have deserted him and his mother up here. So it's for me to right that wrong. But he's done such terrible things Madie. What am I going to do?"

  Deed smoothed back the hair on Madie's forehead and continued speaking to her. "He's recovering... you're lying here and he's recovering... Johnson says they've got so much evidence on him he'll spend the rest of his days in prison. But the thing is, men like him, they always find a loophole. I've seen it so many times Madie. He'll get the best counsel and end up in an open prison somewhere. I want him brought to justice - Old Testament justice. When someone's done the things he's done shouldn't they suffer? I want him to suffer Madie!"

  He stroked Madie's exposed ear with his thumb and forefinger, starting at the top and easing his thumb down to the lobe. He paused there and stroked the fine hairs of the lobe. "Love and hate. So close together. Loving you...hating him. I don't mean to hate him. I barely know him, but seeing you like this...it generates a meanness in me. I didn't know love could be this fierce. I was hoping touching you would lay him flat, but he's tough as boots. I wish there was some way you could give him another dose. Listen to me. Thinking of you as an instrument of destruction. I know that's wrong, but just this once..."

  *****

  This is not how you’re meant to meet the family of the woman you love. Deed stood looking at Madie’s sisters. Where to begin? What to tell them?

  Allie’s concern for her sister flared out at him. He reached out a hand towards her. “I’ll take you through to see her if you like.”

  But it was Frankie who spoke. “Who are you anyway?”

  As Deed explained Brendan appeared. Having met the day before he greeted Deed with familiarity and this seemed to appease Frankie somewhat. Deed was grateful as Brendan took over the telling of the arrest and subsequent hospitalisation. Watching the confusion in Allie’s eyes and hearing the consternation in Frankie’s voice made Deed want to run and hide. This is what it is to be siblings. This is what I could have had with Ire.

  There was a mother earth quality to Allie which Deed sensed was absent from Frankie. But still he could see her obvious anxiety for Madie. And Brendan’s careless younger brother air was undercut by the way his eyebrows pushed together during the telling and the easy manner in which his large hands lost their ungainliness as he comforted his sisters. The three were bound by their familial relationship. Like other families in a crisis old arguments were stripped down to their inanity and forced to fall away. This is what I never had. Nor ever will.

  Deed left Brendan to usher the sisters to Madie’s room. From the glass partition Deed watched them, letting his fingers touch the etched surface, yearning to be a part of this family unit. Yes, he loved Madie. But they did not know the extent of his love. And so his helplessness weighed even more heavily. What good am I if I can’t bring them the justice they deserve?

  As though sensing the waves of his frustration Allie turned from the bed and looked at Deed. Her eyes beseeched him to save Madie from this fate. It was not in his nature to simply stand by and do nothing. But his brother had stripped him of his ability to right wrongs. Deed felt as though Ire’s very existence negated all the good he had accomplished throughout his career.

  Brendan was suddenly beside him. “We think you should be with us when Frankie signs the forms. We’ve talked it over.”

  “I...” The words could not leave Deed’s throat. He turned abruptly to leave but Brendan grasped his arm with a staying motion which caused Deed’s self made binding of reserve to rip loose inside him. Puppet-like he followed Brendan into Madie’s room where Frankie and Allie moved aside to allow him the space to move closer to the bedside. Allie’s fingers worked their way into his free hand and though Deed knew his expression was stoical, inside he was crying. Crying the tears he should have cried for his mother and his father. Crying tears for himself.

  *****

  Deed found Sylvie and Joe in the family room. They were arguing. Sylvie was standing at the drinks machine. Sylvie sighed as she turned and saw Deed. “You've met the sisters then. Do you want a drink love?”

  Deed shook his head. “How long have you two been here?”

  “Not long. You were having words with Madie and getting to know the in-laws so we left you to it.”

  Joe ga
ve Sylvie a meaningful look. “Oh, I can’t help it Joseph. I’m just more optimistic than you are.”

  In a gesture of mock contrition Sylvie handed Joe a coffee. He sipped at it. "Uurgh. This is swill. I'll go out and get us some proper coffee. I'll get you a sandwich Robert. You probably haven't eaten." Joe edged out of his chair. "What can I get you Sylvie?"

  "Surprise me." Sylvie waved Joe off dismissively.

  "You're as subtle as a brick through a window Sylvie. I'm leaving you two alone aren't I?" Joe smiled reassuringly at Deed as he shut the door on his way out.

  Sylvie launched directly into her appeal. “The thing is love, I want you to start thinking more positively. It’s an uncanny world and all sorts can happen in it.”

  Deed sat down so Sylvie wouldn't feel overwhelmed by his size. “Oh Sylvie, you and your infernal optimism. Three separate doctors have seen her and said the same thing — irreversible coma. The second they take those tubes out she won’t be able to sustain her own lung function. The family don’t have the kind of money to ensure she gets the right care privately.” Deed closed his eyes before he said the rest of what he felt he had to say. “And I don’t want to undertake the cost of private medical bills.”

  “Robert lad, you don’t mean that.” Sylvie looked aghast.

  “But I do. I do. I just can’t bear it.”

  She was angry now. “You're just being selfish.”

  “Damn right I'm being selfish. It's harder... harder on the living... just watching and not being able to make it right... to fix things.”

  “But she's going to come out of it.”

  Deed wanted to beat against Sylvie’s chest to make her understand how the endless hoping was tearing him apart. “You don't know that. You just don't know that. How can you look at her getting worse everyday and tell me she's going to make it? Have you had a message from beyond? Have you!?”

  Sylvie was silent. She let her gaze drift away from Deed's beseeching look.

  *****