Blackout

by Chris Ryan

  The tin can spun into the air, then shot forward as the second bullet punched through it.

  'A shot,' said Marshall, standing two yards behind him. 'I thought so.' He paused. 'T,ry again.'

  Josh steadied the pistol, took aim and fired. One shot, then two. The can clattered to the ground.

  'Again,' said Marshall.

  Josh paused, took a breath, then squeezed the trigger -- once, then twice. Another can bit the dust.

  Marshall stepped in front of him. He took a swig of the beer bottle gripped in his right hand, emptying its contents

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  down his throat. He glanced across towards Josh. 'Let's see if you can hit a moving target.'

  With a swing of his hand, Marshall slung the bottle high up into the air. Josh followed it with his stare, tracking the arc of its movement. Wait until it peaks and starts to fall, he told himself. That is when it will slow down. That is when it will be easier to hit.

  He squeezed the trigger. The bullet streaked high into the sky, hitting nothing. Almost instantaneously, Josh released the second round. This time he could hear the satisfying crunch of steel smashing into glass, sending a shower of tiny fragments of the bottle down from the sky.

  'Like I said, a marksman,' said Marshall, stepping towards him. 'A soldier always fires twice. It's drilled into him.'

  'You already said I was a soldier.'

  Marshall nodded, his expression turning serious. 'Plenty of soldiers can't shoot straight,' he replied. 'Look at the way you always fire twice. Assault troops do that -- it's part of their training. If you want to kill a man, two bullets are always twice as good as one. Squeeze once, then twice, then drop your weapon.'

  'Assault troops?' asked Josh.

  Marshall shrugged. 'Special forces, maybe.'

  Josh looked down at the ground. The shot. The memory he had woken up with. It was still there, struggling to emerge, like a worm trying to wriggle its way out of a hard piece of ground. The noise of it was vivid in his ears now: he could hear the echo of the bujlet spreading out across the empty scrubland.

  Did I shoot someone?

  'A beer,' said Marshall, reaching down into the icebox propped up on the front of the porch. 'You like beer?'

  'Maybe. I can't remember,' replied Josh with an easygoing smile.

  Marshall handed across a beer, snapping off its cap

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  between his right thumb and forefinger. 'I never met a soldier who didn't like beer,' he said.

  Josh put the bottle to his lips. The taste was familiar. The alcohol hit his bloodstream, sending a sudden rush of energy surging through him. He felt light-headed, giddy. But he could also feel the aching in his head starting to ease. 'I like beer, that's for sure,' he said, looking back towards Marshall.

  The older man nodded, looking down at the ground, the beer bottle still in his hand. 'What do you want to do?'

  Josh turned to look at him. 'I'll stay, if you'll let me.' He took another hit of the beer. 'Just for a few days, until I get myself straightened out. I can pay you from the cash that was in my pocket.'

  'The money doesn't matter,' said Marshall. 'You're not costing us anything apart from a few scraps of food.'

  'I could go to a hospital,' continued Josh. 'I've thought about it. But I don't know who I am, or what happened to me back there. Like you said, a man doesn't get shot for no reason. Maybe I was mixed up in something illegal.'

  'You're worried that if you check into a hospital the cops are going to be looking out for you?'

  Josh gripped the beer bottle tightly between his hands. 'I just don't know, do I?'

  'You got no idea what you were doing?'

  Josh shook his head. 'None.'

  'Rest, that's what you need,' said Marshall. 'Give it a few days. A memory is like a woman. You have to let them come to you.'

  'No.' Josh smiled, more to himself than to Marshall. 'I need to chase.'

  'Meaning?'

  'I'm a hunter. I like to track things down.Women, memories, whatever. That's who I am.'

  'You don't know who the hell you are, boy,' answered Marshall.

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  'But I do know that much about myself,' said Josh quickly. 'Like you said, I'm a soldier. We don't -wait for things to come to us.'

  Marshall laughed. 'The clever ones do.'

  Josh stood up, using the crutch for support. It still hurt, but he needed to push himself: he knew that until he started exercising his muscles again his strength was never going to return. 'Maybe I'm not a good one,' he said, looking back towards Marshall. Josh stretched his arms to relieve the pain in his shoulders. 'Take me back to where you found me.'

  'What for?'

  'It might trigger something,' said Josh. 'If I could see the place, then maybe I'll get a sense of what happened. Maybe I can find some evidence about who attacked me.'

  He sat down again. The pain in his leg was growing worse, making it hard for him to stand for any length of time. 'Now,' he said. 'I want to go back now.'

  Marshall shook his head. 'Too hot,' he answered. 'Maybe we'll take you in the morning. When it's cooler. And when Kate says you're strong enough.'

  Josh caught the words on the lips, just as he was about to speak. An instinct was burning within him: to tell the older man that he wanted to be taken to the place where they'd found him, and he wanted to be taken there now. No, he reminded himself. Until I have my strength back, I have to depend on these people. I'm an invalid. / can do nothing for myself.

  'Tomorrow, then,' said Josh stiffly.*

  Marshall grinned. 'At dawn, before the bull snakes are awake.'

  Josh looked out across the scrub. A truck was moving along the road, doing about forty miles an hour. Apart from that the landscape was as bleak and empty as it always was. 'What are you doing out here?' he asked.

  'Keeping myself to myself,' said Marshall. 'Soldiering does

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  that to a man sometimes. You might find that out one day for yourself.'

  'Not too quiet?'

  'Not for me, no. I like quiet.'

  'What do you do?' asked Josh, looking across at the older man. 'It doesn't look as if there are any jobs out here.'

  Marshall took another sip of his beer. 'Veterans from the war,' he replied. 'I run a website that helps keep vets in touch with one another. Gives them help and advice on their benefit payments, medical treatment, the rest of it. There are still a lot of men out there who are in pretty bad shape, both mentally and physically, and for many of them it gets worse as they get older. A lot of them live out in remote places like this because they don't like the noise and the sweat of the cities. So the site helps them stay in touch. Lets them talk. They pay a small subscription, so it doesn't make a lot of money, but it makes a bit. We get by'

  'And Kate?' said Josh, nodding back towards the main building. 'She's a young woman, full of life. What's she doing out here?'

  Marshall paused, and Josh could sense the older man growing tense: his hand was tightening its grip on his beer bottle, and his brow was starting to furrow. 'That's her business,' he said.

  'Okay,' said Josh, backing away. 'I was just curious.'

  'Listen,' continued Marshall. 'I don't mind you being here. You're a soldier, and I like soldiers. But just make sure you keep your hands off my daughter. That way you and I are going to get along just fine.'

  The pizza felt sticky and heavy in Josh's hand. It had a thick layer of cheese on top, plus some wedges of ham and pineapple. I can't remember whether I like pizza or not, Josh said to himself. But I certainly don't like it with sodding pineapple on it.

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  He took another bite, flicking one of the pineapple chunks onto the ground, then chewing the slice quickly. Get it inside you, he told himself. Every bite you take will get you a bite closer to being stronger again. And strength is what you need.

  'I had a memory,' said Josh.

  Kate looked surprised. She turned to face him, a smile flashing across her lips. 'Just n
ow?'

  'Earlier,' answered Josh.'As I was waking up this afternoon.'

  It was a little after nine at night, and the final rays of sunlight had just dipped below the horizon. The fierce redness of the sunset against the reddish-browns of the desert landscape had held Josh's attention for more than an hour: he had been happy just to sit and watch the gradual fading of the light, and the smears of colour it left behind. By the time Kate had come out of the kitchen with a giant pizza and a pitcher of iced tea he had been feeling better than at any time since he'd been shot. The pain from his wounds was ebbing, and the headache was tuning down to just a mild, irregular drumbeat.

  Now a moon was starting to rise in the sky, arcing across the distant mountain and bathing the flat land in a silver light. Ahead of him, Josh could see a huge inch-and-a-half long bug crawling across the scrub, its eyes glinting through the darkness. The creature had a thick black skin, and was moving at speed across the ground.

  Is that dangerous? wondered Josh as he watched the spider's progress. That's the real ^risk from losing your memory: a lifetime's experience of knowing how to look after yourself is lost in a split second.

  'Morning is the time when you're most likely to find some memories stirring within you,' said Kate, looking up towards Josh. 'Whenever you feel yourself waking up, try and keep your mind empty and relaxed. Eventually some memories will sneak back in there.'

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  'There was a shot,' said Josh, looking towards Kate. 'A gunshot.'

  'Aimed at you?' she asked. 'Was it someone shooting at you?'

  Josh shook his head. 'No, I don't think so,' he answered. 'I hear a shot. And then I see a boy running. Across some kind of dark landscape. Then that's it. The memory goes.'

  'It's a start,' said Kate. 'It's locked up in there somewhere. We just have to find a key that opens the box.'

  Josh took a further bite of his pizza, flicking another piece of pineapple on the ground and watching the spider crawl towards the discarded fruit. 'The key's pretty well locked up right now.'

  'Try some of the stuff you were watching on TV,' said Kate. 'Maybe that will trigger something.'

  'Hasn't yet,' said Josh, taking a sip of the iced tea.

  'Iraq,' said Kate. 'What does that mean to you personally? Have you been there?'

  Josh paused. Something. He could feel it in his brain, a slight flickering of recognition. But nothing more came. 'No,' he replied. 'Nothing.'

  'Okay,' said Kate. 'Let's try something else.' She hesitated. 'What's my name?'

  Josh looked at her and grinned. 'Kate.'

  'My father's name?'

  'Marshall.'

  'What did I give you for breakfast yesterday?'

  'Cereal.'

  Kate nodded. 'And how was the weather?'

  'Hot,' answered Josh. 'Bloody hot.'

  Kate poured herself a glass of iced tea. She was wearing a pale blue linen skirt and a white blouse, the most dressy clothes Josh had seen her in. He noticed the smooth outline of her legs beneath the fabric. Her skin was tanned a rich, light brown from constant exposure to the sun. The bright

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  locks of red hair against the tanned skin gave her an exotic appearance that was all the more captivating for being so unusual. Most redheads had pale skins, reflected Josh. She was an unusual woman. In a thousand different ways, no doubt.

  'There are two different types of memory loss,' said Kate. 'Anterograde, which means the patient can't learn anything new. And retrograde, which means they can't remember anything that happened before a certain point. They can remember general stuff, but nothing personal. We've just tested you on the past couple of days and you're doing fine. You remember everything that happened since you came here. So what you are suffering from is retrograde memory loss. That tells us there isn't any brain damage. Rest. You'll get it back.'

  'And if I don't?'

  Kate shrugged.'You'll just have to learn again. Everything. From scratch, like a kid.'

  Josh glanced towards Kate. For the first time since he had woken up here two days ago he could feel himself starting to relax. The itching in his neck was subsiding, and his leg was almost strong enough to stand on without him having to use a crutch. He could move without his whole body rebelling in pain.

  Everything's going to be okay, he said to himself. I don't know how or when. But I can sense it. I'm going to pull through this.

  'What are you doing out here?'

  He sipped on his iced tea and looked at Kate, at the same time gesturing towards the desolate landscape.

  'Don't you like it?' she asked. He could detect the hint of defiance in her voice. 'It's a wilderness,' he replied.

  'I like it. It's natural. Unspoilt. The way the world should be.'

  Josh looked out onto the scrubland. Some of the pizza

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  was still sitting at his side, but he had eaten as much as he could manage this evening. 'I don't mean that,' he said. 'You're a doctor, but you don't practise. You're an attractive young woman, but you live out here, a hundred miles from the nearest decent-sized town. I'm sorry, I don't get it.' He looked at Kate. 'What are you hiding from?' Kate stood up briskly. Her manner had grown cold and distant: her shoulders were hunched up into her neck, and her gaze flicked past Josh as if she were searching for something in the distance. 'You need some rest,' she said. 'That's an order from your doctor.'

  Josh woke up with a start. His head was spinning and his breathing was ragged. He was about to speak, but he could feel Kate's hand covering his lips.

  'Quiet,' she whispered fiercely in his ear. 'There are men approaching the house. Police.'

  Josh struggled to wrap the sheet around his naked body. He could feel the tension flooding through him. Glancing outside, he could *see that it was night: the yard was in shadow, with only some moonlight throwing a few pale beams across the pathway.

  'What shall I do?'

  'Hide, quick,' said Kate. 'There's a place under the floorboards.' Josh got to his feet, using his crutch to walk across the yard to the kitchen. He could see two police cars turning the corner, driving along J;he narrow strip of road that led up to the house. 'Quick,' said Kate at his side.

  Marshall was waiting in the kitchen. He was holding up a layer of lino, pointing to a patch of exposed floor. 'Down there,' he snapped, pushing aside two planks to reveal a trapdoor. 'There's a space just big enough to hold a man.'

  Josh looked into the darkness. He could see almost nothing. Next to him, Marshall switched on a flashlight. The

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  beam illuminated a set of six steps that led down to a curved space. Josh started to step downwards, leaving his crutch behind. His leg still throbbed painfully as his weight rested upon it. Using his hands, he levered himself into position.

  The rectangular trench measured ten feet by ten. It was five feet deep. The space had been cut into the earth below the foundations of the bungalow, with strips of wood used to prop up its sides. Josh lay down on his back. 'I'm going to switch the flashlight off now,' said Marshall. 'I'll get you out when they've gone.'

  The flashlight flicked off, and suddenly Josh was plunged into blackness. He could see nothing, only hear footsteps moving above him. The air down in the trench was hot -- at least forty degrees -- and stale. Josh could feel the sweat starting to form on his skin. He could sense the cracked earth all around him, and a few feet away he could Smell the pipe that led down from the bathroom towards the septic tank.

  Why do they have a one-man hiding place beneath their house? thought Josh. Who the hell are these people?

  He heard a knock on the door. One set of footsteps, then another. Two men. Josh was certain they were men. The steps were heavy and deliberate, walking slowly through the house as if they were searching for something.

  Voices. They were too muffled for him to make out at first. He strained his ears, struggling to catch the words being spoken just a few yards above him.

  'An Englishman,' he heard a voj*:e saying. 'We
're looking for a man with a British accent. He's in the area somewhere.'

  Josh could hear Kate speaking, but he couldn't catch what she was saying. A whisper was all that filtered down, the words indistinct.

  'He might be dangerous,' he heard the man saying. 'Only might be, mind. We just want to bring him in for questioning.'

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  They think I did it. They think I shot somebody. And -- who knows? -- maybe I did, thought Josh to himself. What kind of man am I? What might I be capable of?

  Another pause. Kate was speaking again but still Josh couldn't catch the words.

  'You haven't seen anything suspicious in the area?' asked the man. 'We think he might be pretty badly hurt too, so he couldn't have gone far.'

  Josh could hear Kate now. 'We haven't seen anybody,' she said. 'And, as you know, it's pretty isolated up here. If there was anyone, we'd've seen them.'

  'Mind if we look around?'

  Now Josh could hear Marshall walking across the floor. 'Feel free,' the older man said.

  Josh lay completely still. He could hear the footsteps tramping across the floor above him. And he could hear the sounds of cupboards being opened and beds being moved.

  Suddenly he felt something moving across his skin. The thing's touch felt dry and coarse, with the texture of an old belt. A snake. Josh could feel his flesh starting to creep. Goose bumps were rising on every inch of his skin, and a shiver of cold fear started to run down his spine. His hand was trembling, and he had to focus his mind to try and steady it.

  I'm learning new things about myself all the time. I have a fear of snakes.

  Stay still, he told himself. Stay perfectly still and you'll be okay.

  The snake moved further across his torso. Josh caught a glimpse of its eyes, glinting back at him. His own eyes had become more accustomed to the darkness and he could make out that the reptile had wide bands of red and black skin interspersed with narrow ones of white and yellow. Its head was completely black, with a snubbed snout, and