by Andy Tilley
‘Slight change of plan Cristian and you won’t believe who’s turned up. By the way, how was it?’
It’s June, June Williams and she won’t stop staring at me.
‘Why is she here?’
‘Well I’m not quite sure but she somehow managed to convince your dad that the purge should be delayed.’
I had almost passed Hill on my way to greet Mrs Williams but his choice of words stops me in my tracks, level with his shoulder. I turn my head and whisper in his ear.
‘Delayed? Not cancelled then?’
He shrugs.
‘Hey, I’m just the brains around here.’
I leave the doctor to his invention; emptying and tidying, preparing and resetting the sequence ready for his next customer. I’m not so sure that this will be me, but we’ll see. June’s face is hard to read. There’s definitely hate there, anxiety too. But there’s more; wonder and purpose in eyes that are distant and glazed yet at the same time focussed? She knows something this woman and there’s a slight delay before she answers me as to why she is here.
‘I thought that would be obvious. I’ve come to get my Rose.’
Dad steps forward, tries to put his arm around June’s shoulder but she jerks it away. Undaunted he continues to offer his reassurance, the first gentle step towards her not only leaving but keeping quiet too about what she has witnessed of this subterranean madness.
‘But your daughter’s safest here June. I can’t explain why but you have to trust me. Dr Hill’s taking good care of her.’
June ignores him, closes her eyes slightly and leans forward a little as if to intensify her stare before talking directly to me.
‘I want her fixed and I want her back. And I want it done now.’
From nowhere it hits me and I understand what she is willing me to say.
‘I’ll do it.’
‘Do what exactly?’
‘I’ll fix her Jack. I’ll fix my Rose. You remember what Keltz said, about fixing Donald when he found him? Well, I’ll fix Rose!’
Keltz’s twisted grin is back but this time it will not deter me from what must be done.
Chapter 38
I’ve been feeling an awful lot lately. Not arms or legs or toes or….well, not anything much of the physical me at all other than a slightly fuzzy buzz when I get banged into something or slung somewhere in a hurry. This new bloke is the worst for that. So careless! Jack I think his name is. Jesus Jack I call him. Twice I’ve heard Dr Hill tell him to be gentle. ‘Jesus Jack, will you be careful!’ or ‘Jesus Jack, she isn’t one of your drugged up nutters!’, whatever that means. Twice Jesus Jack has laughed too, the clumsy insensitive git. But it turns out that my being oblivious to pain isn’t perhaps the only upside of this numbness for like I say, for a while now I’ve been feeling a whole lot more ‘connected’. Maybe it’s some kind of compensation that Lady Luck doles out for being such a bitch but whatever or why, pretty much daily now Rose Williams is finding herself logged back on to the world. And it really is like that too, like logging on to some super-dupa network. And just like the internet, I haven’t a clue how it works. All I know is how to log on, to send a fleeting thought and push a small button somewhere deep inside my belly. Why down there I have no idea, but that’s where the button is. Push it and hey-presto I’m online, experiencing things without so much as a quiver in my eardrum or a ripple on my skin. I’m not seeing or hearing or tasting or smelling or anything like that. No, all that biological stuff is completely bypassed somehow and so all that’s left for me to do is simply experience! It’s truly weird and I have to say that initially it was truly terrifying. I can remember the first time that I experienced this sixth sense. It happened by accident I suppose, something akin to a reflex that kicked and pushed my button without being asked to. It happened as I was being moved from the hospital when, without warning, I’d been ripped from my cosy dark and plunged into a vibrant and horrifying ‘can’t breath must scream’ panic as the clinical disinfectant and humming machines of my hospital room were replaced by mouldy damp and far too tight dirt walls. Shit, just thinking back to that moment now (sheets drawn over my face before being taken down into the ground) makes me shiver and want to cry out again! Unplugged and buried alive, it had been exactly how I imagine a decent into my grave would be. Brrrrrr! In fact I’d been so scared by that experience that it was a while before I would push the button again, this time to bring the puzzling bright white of a new room into my head. I couldn’t then (and still can’t) for the life of me work out why this new place also has machines that beep but twisting facts around and around until they click into place isn’t something that I’m very good at so I’ve long since tossed Mr Rubik’s bright white cube to the back of my mind. Yeah, I’ve found something better to fill my head with now, spend most of my time here being angry and very abusive. I regularly have a proper hissy fit at Jesus Jack (which I really enjoy doing!) and the rest of ‘em all get a piece of my mind too from time to time, if for no other reason than..….hang on, what was that? A tiny tap tap tap somewhere on my eyes? There it is again! So clear this time that I want to tap back, tell who ever tapped ‘knock knock, who’s there?’ I smile at myself but the joke backfires, immediately reminds me of those tough diamond discs given to me by Uncle John and the noise they might make if they were to be tampered with. I remember what they keep out. Tap tap who’s there. ‘Key’ come’s the imaginary reply. Panic rising again, my mind racing away! ‘Sil..key’ the voice in my head hisses, ‘and I’m opening the door!’.
I push my button hard but nothing. Again and again I push but still nothing happens to let me see what the hell is going on!
‘Rose.’
Instantly my fear crescendo’s then freezes, its delicious chill hanging and tingling through me for this is no longer a fear of invasion but dread that the visitor may pass by.
‘Cristian!’
My mind slides open as I call his name. He’s entering me now, flowing gently into me, gathering my whole and wrapping it up within him. What is he? I am absorbed by him and I have never felt so safe, so loved, so….so…there are no words to describe this! Sugar melted in warm water is what I am, every part of me in every part of him. There is no need for expression or excited chat for I empathise everything; the ecstasy of his silkie ascension and his willingness to give it all back for me! This love for me is immense and dominates us but I know that mine is there in the mix too, sweetening the nectar as it surges through me. My prince is here to rescue his sleeping beauty! Already I can feel him getting busy, pins and needles jangling my spine as nerves and muscle are reconnected, sparked into life. My toes are wiggling, tangled in cotton at the end of legs that are sliding against itchy sheets. He laughs warmly as we share my embarrassment at not having shaved! Now my knees are twitching, thighs tensing and…..oh my! He lingers and we share the moment until my right arm flops from the bed, not to hang loose though because I can finally lift it! I reach out, grope around for Cristian’s human hand, find it resting gently on my belly but it doesn’t respond to my touch and I realise that he isn’t in there, that his body is parked and idling until he returns from fixing me. Still, it’s good to hold him and I’m almost complete now so it won’t be long until….
Without warning the whole thing disappears; the sparkle, the love, the torrent of emotions between us all sucked away in an instant leaving only a soulless vacuum. Cristian and I are compelled to retreat from this nothingness, its dominion impossible to challenge as it reverberates through everything. At the centre of the space so summoned, an infinitesimal point of light has appeared. It floats through my wonder, static for a moment then effervescing wildly, inflating to the size of a pink pea. I can’t find Cristian anymore and I should be panicked but I’m not; I’m calmed and inexplicably filled with joy by the presence of this tiny globe. It’s settling, with only a rhythmic rippling pulse distorting its surface now but this is still enough to smudge the image of the something which it cocoons. Mesmerised I wat
ch it spin and as the ripples subside further, the shadow within focuses. I am stunned by what is revealed.
‘My baby? Cristian, we have a son!’
I have to reach across the void to my baby boy, send a thought from my heart to touch his but at that very moment my button is pushed and I’m launched into white room mayhem.
‘Cristian!!!!!!’
I can’t breath! There’s a plastic mask strapped tight to my face. It dribbles air in and muffles my cry for help. The weasel of a man who put it there is backing away, grinning wildly, resetting his messy red hair with one hand and cradling a shotgun in the other.
‘He won’t hear you Rose. He’s dead to the world’
The horrid man leans across me, takes Cristian’s hand from mine and waves it in my face before flopping it back down. I try to strike him but my right hand only swings through a shallow arc at the elbow. My shoulder ignores me.
‘See? Nobody home.’
He laughs as he straightens again and I feel his spit on my forehead. My breaths are so shallow now, this mask pulling tighter and tighter on my face and my eyes plead with him to loosen it. He doesn’t, just steps back slowly. Three, four, five paces then he stops, tutts and shakes his head.
‘My my, you are a right sorry pair aren’t you. How the hell did you get into such a pickle eh? Daddy trapped inside mummy like this. Oh, that reminds me, how is that little bastard of yours doing in there? You said bye bye to little diddums yet? No? Well, best hurry Rose ‘cos this pure silkie’s about to blow you and your fuckin’ freaky family off this planet.’
Silkie! Damn it Cristian what is happening here! I plead with the gun man again, begging form my child’s life into this damn mask as he raises the gun. Cruelly he only grins wider and winks at me down the barrel. His finger is tensioning, set to pull the trigger! My eyes close. My eyelids are working! Hurry Cristian, hurry and give me strength! Too late. The noise is deafening, smashed into me by an ash hot stream of stinking air but thankfully there is no pain. I guess Cristian hasn’t fixed whichever part of my body that’s been struck yet. Either that or maybe he’s realised how futile it is, taken me off line and spared me the agony of a fatal gunshot wound. I open my eyes and raise my head to see if I can see the damage. I can raise my head and now more good news; there’s no blood, no guts spilled across my bed. But there is blood and guts plastered across the glass panel that segregates my bed from the main room. These belong to the man who’s appeared from nowhere and is wrestling my attacker to the ground. Go on man, kill the ginger haired freak! Where he’s finding the strength to fight I have no idea because the shot blast he obviously shielded me from has punched a huge hole in his side, ripped skin and tatty suit to bits. I guess his dying weight is just about all he has left though because what looked like a contest is already over; the dying man tossed to one side, slumped against the glass and sliding to the floor. My attacker is exhausted from the struggle; spitting phlegm, panting and laughing when his shallow breathes allow.
‘These fuckin’ Chevalier’s. I tell ya Rose, they’re really starting to piss me off.’
Is that who the injured guy is, Thomas Chevalier? It’s one hell of way to meet grandad,
‘And I know it may be hard for you to believe right now, what with you going to die and all that but trust me, I’m doin’ you a big favour here.’
He’s bending down, picking up the gun dropped during the struggle. I sense Cristian’s panic, an instruction to yank the mask away from my face. I check my arms once more to see if they can reach my face yet.
‘I can’t do it Cristian, I just can’t move them!’
Crying won’t help but that’s pretty much all I have left in me now; a pathetic, frustrated sob as I stare helplessly back at the red haired hitman, watch him slowly lower his hand and place it on the weapon at his feet. His fingers are touching the butt when a bloody leg lashes out and kicks the gun hard, the shove weighted so perfectly that it spins and glides to a stop within inches of my bed.
‘Cristian! Left arm Cristian, left arm!!!’
Had the red haired man not delayed, decided to let this act of defiance pass instead of punishing it with swift sickening kicks to my hero’s head, then maybe things would have been different. But he didn’t and as his boot rained in for a third time on Thomas Chevalier, Cristian Chevalier set about putting things right. My arm begins to tingle and sparks jolt my fingers. I will Cristian on, urge him to fix my shoulder and finally it jerks, rolls down and lowers my hand to collect the weapon. My arm feels so weak but I managed to pick it up, shuffle my hand along to the trigger and point it in the general direction I want to aim. Red sees me, stops kicking and mocks the wavering barrels with a sarcastic smile. Had I been aiming a pistol or a rifle then okay yeah, he could have quite confidently walked up and taken it from me. But the spray of shot gun? Nah, I’ll hit everything within ten feet. The bastard’s got nowhere to go to get out of the way of this baby and he knows it!
‘Threaten my family would you you son of a….’
The recoil rips my shoulder from its socket, sends the gun flying and smashing into the wall just above Cristian’s head. I hear screams through the smoke, man screams and then I see him, stumbling around the room with hands clamped to his bloody face. My hand is at my face too, trying to get this bloody mask off but it’s so difficult with only one arm. Red has stopped screaming, taken to swearing and cursing me, vowing vengeance with all manner of limb tearing, bone crushing, soul sucking threats. But behind his anger I can sense it. I can tell how badly I’ve hurt him and as he staggers from view it’s my turn to laugh, but somehow I can’t. Instead I‘m crying again. Finally I manage to unhook the mask, sling it away and gulp down fresh air. Even before it has hit the floor Cristian is standing, hugging me and helping me to sit up on the edge of the bed.
‘Are you okay Rose? God I thought we were done for love, I really did. You were so brave darling, so…’
I silence him with a short, gentle kiss. Of course I want to hold him and listen to his sweet praise but I can also see that his bruised and battered father needs him more than I do. It hurts to see my love’s pain as Cristian tenderly hitches his father up the glass a little so he can better hear and be heard. It is also horribly clear that Thomas Chevalier, so badly injured, has only a few moments left. Cristian knows it too and doesn’t waste them by trying to remove discs and attempting to mend him. There simply isn’t enough life left and all Cristian can do is hold and thank his father whilst he slips away.
Chapter 39
My name is Kingdom and today, I can’t stop smiling. The reason? Well, tomorrow I will marry my Rose! It’s not going to be a big do though; just Rose and I, June and Christine of course (to sign the book) and finally Stan and his good lady. My girls are all busy with the registrar at this very moment in fact, going through the order of service, arranging flowers from the meadow on a lace cloth that Rose has draped over the conservatory dining table. Indeed, those flowers are one reason why I’m strolling deep in the woods instead of helping. ‘Would you and your bloody dogs just get out of the house for an hour or two please?’ Rose had pleaded, her calm façade finally breached by Lloyd when for a third time he’d snatched Christine’s posy from the kitchen work top. I’m regretting convincing Rose to let him keep it now. He looks extremely gay for a hunting dog, poncing through the trees like that with a bouquet of daffodils in his mouth. Ah, here we are again and as is happening more and more recently, I’ve no real sense of my journey here. I must have negotiated the stepping stones in order to cross the brook and yes, my dry feet said I did it perfectly. I’ve passed the three tallest elm trees in Hartford too. Never even noticed them and now I’ve crossed the clearing and avoided three huge branches lying there without ever seeing them. On auto pilot it seems, I’ve arrived safely once more to present myself before the main reason for my morning walk. This has been my routine for about a year now; Sunday morning boiled eggs, newspaper and tea in the study then an hour’s walk with the dogs to ch
eck out the lab. In fact come to think of it, it’s been exactly a year to the day since we sealed this place! I shudder and take a step back, never liking to stand too close to the door but that’s okay because from five paces the weld looks fine. The doorframe could probably do with a lick of paint though, to keep that rust from taking hold. I’ll have a word with Stan when I get back and get him on that whilst I’m on the honeymoon. Stan did a great job that night. Normally this is as far as my recollections would be allowed to go. At this point I’d usually call the dogs back and turn to home but today, on this first anniversary, well it just feels right that I pay some kind of homage to the place that changed everything so completely. I brace myself, stay and stand and let the memories in.