Every Touch

by Parke, Nerika

  He walked into the bedroom where his phone was sitting on the bedside cabinet. He decided to text Trish. He had to know what was happening.

  Halfway to the bed he stopped, a strange, tingling sensation in his skin distracting him. Raising his arms, he looked at them. He wasn’t certain, but they appeared almost as if they were glowing. As he watched, tiny sparkles of light ignited across the surface of his skin. The tingling feeling intensified. Something was happening to him. The ritual was working, it had to be.

  Suddenly the sparkles of light blazed, the intensity blinding him. Every cell in his body detonated in searing, burning agony. He was shattering, tearing, being ripped apart from the inside.

  Falling to his knees and throwing his head back, Denny screamed.

  Forty-Two

  Laila unlocked the door to the flat and ran inside, Kelly and Trish close on her heels.

  “Denny?” she called.

  There was no answer; no hand pushed into hers, no arms wrapped around her.

  “Denny? Are you here?”

  Still nothing.

  Laila’s heart began to race. He knew they would be coming back, he wouldn’t have gone anywhere else. She walked further in as the others fanned out around her. After a few seconds, she heard Kelly gasp.

  “Lai,” she said.

  Laila looked round to see her sister at the open bedroom door, her eyes wide as she stared inside. Laila immediately went to the bedroom, and stopped. A man was lying on his side on the floor in the middle of the room, curled into the foetal position and completely naked, his back to her.

  He wasn’t moving.

  Laila stood staring at him, her legs feeling like they were made of lead. Trish rushed past her and crouched down next to him.

  “Denny,” she gasped.

  Kelly followed Trish and she picked up his hand, placing her fingers on his wrist. “He’s alive,” she said. “We need to get him onto the bed.” She looked around. “Laila?”

  Her legs finally began to work again. She walked over to them as they rolled the man onto his back and she froze, looking down at him. It was one thing to look at a photo of Denny, but it was completely different to see the real thing.

  Tears rose to her eyes. “He’s so beautiful,” she whispered.

  Kelly looked up at her and smiled. “Come on,” she said, “help us get him up.”

  Together the three of them managed to get Denny onto one side of the bed and Laila pulled the covers over him. Then, while Kelly checked his vital signs and Trish fussed around him, Laila just sat on the bed next to him and stared at him.

  She couldn’t tear her eyes from his face. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. And his body, seeing that was new to her. Of course she’d felt every inch of him, but to actually see him, his muscular shoulders, his nicely defined biceps, his well developed chest and taut abs. He was incredible.

  A warm glow blossomed inside her as she gazed at him. Reaching out a trembling hand, she pushed a lock of light reddish-brown hair from his eyes.

  “Is he alright?” Trish said, her voice worried.

  “Well, his pulse is strong and steady, his pupils are reacting to light and his temperature is normal,” Kelly said. “He seems fine. He’s just not awake.”

  “He will wake up though,” Laila said to her sister, “won’t he?”

  Kelly looked at her. “I don’t know,” she said, “I have no idea what’s wrong with him, so I don’t know.”

  Laila took hold of Denny’s hand with both of hers.

  “He will,” she said firmly, “he has to.”

  They stayed with Laila and Denny as long as they could, but when the time passed midnight Trish and then Kelly had to get back to their families, leaving with the promise to return the next day.

  Laila stayed by Denny’s side, only leaving him to fetch some food which she brought back to the bedroom to eat.

  She couldn’t stop looking at him. Even when she brought her laptop in and sat next to him on the bed, she kept glancing down at him as she worked. He had the most beautiful skin, a smooth, pale complexion with just the hint of a few freckles, a legacy of his red tinged hair. The faint freckles continued onto his arms too and she ran her fingertips down them, tracing the pattern they made along his shoulders.

  She lost track of time gazing at his face. He was more gorgeous than she’d imagined, and she longed to see his eyes, yearning to have them gaze into hers. He’ll wake up, she told herself, he has to. After everything we’ve been through, this can’t be it.

  Eventually, Laila found her eyelids beginning to droop and she changed into her nightdress and climbed under the covers beside Denny.

  She kissed his lips softly.

  “Come back to me,” she whispered.

  Laying her head down, she slipped her hand into his, leaned her forehead against his shoulder and closed her eyes. After all the excitement and stress of the last several hours, she fell asleep quickly.

  ***

  Laila woke several times during the night, each time checking on Denny carefully, but finding no change. His pulse was strong, his breathing deep and regular, he was just asleep. With no way to wake him.

  Kelly was the first to phone the next morning, startling Laila awake. She immediately looked at Denny, finding him exactly the same.

  “How is he?” Kelly said, without any preamble.

  “The same,” Laila replied, yawning.

  “I’m about to leave for work, but I’ll be round this afternoon. If anything happens, and I mean anything, call the hospital and have them page me. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “How are you?”

  Laila opened her mouth to answer with an automatic “Fine” and found herself suddenly wanting to cry. “I... I’m tired. And...” She looked at Denny lying beside her. “I’m scared Kel. I’m so scared he won’t wake up.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut against her tears.

  “Oh Laila, I wish I was there. I could phone in sick, but I need to get some things for Denny from the hospital. I promise I’ll come straight after my shift. I hate that you’re there by yourself.”

  Laila took a deep breath, wishing she hadn’t said anything to worry her sister.

  “I’m okay. I just haven’t slept well. I’ll be fine.” She smiled. “I have Ben and Jerry to comfort me.”

  “Okay, as long as you’re not alone,” Kelly said, a smile in her voice. “I’ll see you this afternoon. Remember, call if anything happens or if you need anything.”

  Later in the morning, after she’d showered and dressed and gazed at Denny some more, Laila phoned Crystal. To her surprise, the medium came straight over.

  “I can’t believe it worked,” Crystal said, standing next to the bed and looking down at Denny. “I can’t believe that thing actually worked.” As she wasn’t working, she was dressed in jeans and a blue striped top, looking very different from the hippy fortune teller Laila was used to

  “You found it,” Laila said, almost accusingly.

  “I know, but I thought the chances of it actually working were just about zero. To tell you the truth, I thought someone had just made it up. Who knew it would turn out to be genuine?” She grinned. “This is going to make me famous. Everyone will want me on the circuit. I could have my own tent at BeyondCon.”

  Irritation was beginning to bubble in Laila’s sleep-deprived brain. “But will he wake up?”

  “Hmm?” Crystal glanced at her as if she’d forgotten she was there. “Oh, I should think so. I imagine having your body transformed from spirit to flesh would take a lot out of a person. Just give him some time.”

  “How much time?”

  Crystal shrugged. “Beats me. I’m still shocked he’s here.”

  Laila’s shoulders sagged. She had been hoping to get some reassurance from her, but Crystal obviously didn’t know any more than she did. She looked at Denny’s handsome, serene sleeping face and sighed.

  “Look, what you’ve done here is barely short
of a miracle,” Crystal said, her voice softening. “I’m sure he will wake up. His body just needs to complete the transformation. But I will see if I can find out anything more.”

  Crystal patted her shoulder and Laila nodded without enthusiasm.

  “Do you think, when he wakes up,” Crystal said, looking at Denny, “that he’d be up for doing personal appearances? I’d split the fees with him, of course.”

  ***

  Kelly arrived just after four that afternoon with medical supplies.

  “I brought these,” she said, handing Laila a bag of men’s clothes. “Jack doesn’t wear them anymore so he won’t miss them. They’ll probably be a bit too big, but Denny will need something to wear when he wakes up.”

  Laila was grateful she hadn’t said if he wakes up. She was having difficulty keeping that possibility from her own thoughts, despite Crystal’s lack of concern.

  Kelly set up an intravenous glucose drip to keep Denny from dehydrating or starving, showing Laila how to change the bags. She also fitted him with a catheter, a sight that had Laila squirming with discomfort. She was glad Denny didn’t have to be awake to endure what looked like a process that could reduce a grown man to tears. Kelly explained very thoroughly how to remove the tube, in case he woke up, and also how to replace it in case she had to. Laila fervently hoped that she never would.

  Trish arrived in the early evening, staying for more than two hours, and Laila was grateful for her company. They talked for most of the time. Laila had been right in her impression of Trish the first time they’d met, they did get on very well and had become close friends. Even though it had seemed like a disaster at the time, Laila now knew that needing Trish and Kelly’s help was the best thing that could have happened. Without them, even if she had been able to perform the restoration ritual, she was sure she would have gone crazy.

  Forty-Three

  Laila woke early, a full night’s sleep eluding her yet again.

  She looked at Denny lying next to her, exactly as he had been for the past four days, and sighed. Hope was becoming more and more difficult to hold on to. Every day a little bit of despair crept in, despite her efforts to hold it at bay.

  She rubbed her eyes, sat up and pushed her shoulders back. No, she wasn’t going to give up yet. She would be strong for Denny, like he had made her.

  She touched her hand to his face. “I love you,” she said, the same as she did every morning.

  He twitched.

  Laila sucked in a breath, staring at him. Had she imagined the tiny movement? She continued to watch him for a while. Eventually, almost sure she must have imagined it, she began to look away.

  He moved again.

  His body stretched beneath the covers.

  “Denny?” she whispered.

  “Mm hmm?” he said, sleepily opening his eyes a crack.

  Her heart began to pound. She took his hand.

  “Denny?” she said, louder this time.

  His eyes flew open, darting around before coming to rest on her.

  Her mouth fell open and she covered it with her hand. “You’re awake,” she said, almost not believing her eyes. “You’re awake.”

  He turned his head to look around the room then returned his attention to her. “What’s going on?” he said, his voice raspy.

  His voice, she thought, I can hear his voice.

  “Was I drunk?” he said. He looked confused.

  She frowned. “Uh, what?”

  “Last night. I can’t... I can’t remember anything. I must have been so drunk.”

  “Um, no. You weren’t...” she wasn’t sure what to say.

  He wiped a hand across his face and laughed. “Was it one of Joey’s shot parties? Oh, damn, it was, wasn’t it? You’d think I would know better by now.” He looked at her again. “Listen, honey, I’m really sorry, I wish I could say I remembered last night.” His eyes travelled down her body encased in just the flimsy material of her nightdress. “You have no idea how much I wish I remembered. But I have no clue who you are.”

  Time froze. Laila couldn’t breathe. “What?”

  “Not that I don’t want to know,” he said, smiling at her. “I think you may be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And that’s not a line. Okay, it is a line, but I didn’t mean it as one, since we apparently already have...” His smile faded at her expression. “Are you alright?”

  What was happening? Had she done something wrong? Did Denny really not remember her? How could he not remember her?

  “Oh no, honey, it’s okay, don’t be upset. I’m sure it will come back to me...” He started to push himself up the bed and flinched as the needle in his arm from the drip jostled. “Ouch!” He looked at his arm, his eyes following the tube up to the bag of fluid hanging from its stand next to him. “What the hell?” He returned his eyes to her and she saw fear. “What is this?”

  She reached her hand out towards him. “Denny...”

  He scrambled up the bed away from her. “Don’t...” He looked back at his arm and ripped off the tape holding the needle in place, pulling it out quickly. Blood immediately began to flow from the wound and Laila automatically reached for a tissue from the box on the cabinet next to her and held it out to him. After staring at her suspiciously for a couple of seconds, he took it and held it to his arm.

  “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I think you should leave,” he said. He started to slide his legs off the bed and his eyes widened. Lifting the bedcovers up, his face distorted in horror. “What the hell is that?!”

  “It’s a catheter, for your... be careful!” she exclaimed as he tried to pull the narrow tube out.

  He stopped abruptly, uttering a whimper.

  “How do I get this thing out?” he said, gritting his teeth.

  She reached forward. “You just...”

  “No!” he said quickly, holding up a warning hand. “Just tell me.”

  “You have to deflate the balloon holding it in from that short tube on the side...” She explained carefully what Kelly had taught her and he managed to remove the tube, with some obvious discomfort.

  Finally free, Denny threw the covers back and scrambled to his feet, stumbling and grabbing onto the edge of the chest of drawers for support. He stood still as he swayed unsteadily, his eyes darting around the room.

  “Where’s my guitar?” he said, becoming agitated. “Where is all my stuff? What’s going on?”

  “Please, Denny,” Laila pleaded, “please calm down. Let me explain.” Despite her words, she had no idea what she would say.

  He looked down at his naked body. “Where are my clothes?”

  Laila had ironed all the clothing Kelly had brought for him while Denny was unconscious, hanging them in the wardrobe alongside hers. She pointed and he backed towards it, keeping his frightened gaze on her and opening the doors when he reached it.

  “These aren’t mine,” he said, looking inside.

  “They’re for you,” she said, “you can wear them.” She began to rise from the bed.

  “Don’t come near me,” he warned.

  She sank back down, not wanting to alarm him even more, frantically trying to think what to do.

  He had pulled a pair of jeans from a hanger and was putting them on, darting frequent wary glances in her direction. They settled on his hips when he had fastened them, too big for his slim waist. He grabbed a red t-shirt and pulled it on over his head. His eyes dropped to the bottom of the wardrobe.

  “Where are my shoes?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I don’t have any.”

  Jack had different sized feet to Denny and she had planned to go out and buy him something when he was awake. When she thought she’d have all the time in the world.

  He stared at her. “Where are the shoes I had on last night? Or whenever you did whatever you’ve done to me.”

  “I...” she didn’t know how to answer. Then she had an idea. “Let me call Trish,” she said, “and she can come over and e
xplain everything.”

  He frowned. “You know my sister?”

  “Yes. Please, just let me call her.” She reached for the phone next to her.

  “No,” he said, edging closer to her as if she was a rabid dog, “I’ll do it.” He held out his hand and she passed the phone to him. He immediately backed away again. Dialling, he held the phone to his ear and looked at her as he waited. Then he frowned. “There’s something wrong with this phone,” he said, “it won’t connect me.”

  “She must have changed her number,” Laila muttered to herself. “Let me dial,” she said, “then it will go through.”

  She held out her hand for the phone, but he clutched it to his chest. “No,” he said, “I’m calling the police.”

  “No!” she said, panicking, “you can’t.”

  He narrowed his eyes and pressed a button three times. “Police,” he said into the phone. “My name is Dennis Carpenter and I’m at five six eight Hill Street, flat twelve. There’s a woman in my flat, I think she drugged me. She had me on some kind of intravenous drip.... No.... I don’t know her, but I woke up with her here and I think she’s dangerous. I need the police here now... No, I don’t think so... I will... Thank you.” He hung up. “They’re on their way,” he said.

  Laila thought quickly. She would have no trouble proving she lived in the flat, but how was she going to explain Denny? Would the police really believe she had drugged him

  “Could I get dressed?” she said.

  He reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of her jeans and a blue long sleeved top, throwing them to her on the bed.

  “Um, I need underwear,” she said, pointing to the chest of drawers. “Top drawer.”

  He moved to the drawers, still watching her, and pulled open the top one, rummaging inside and withdrawing panties and then a bra which he also threw to her.