‘Master. Suits and Monk. You're with me in enhanced training.’
Lucy counted heads. She was a good nurse but couldn't count in her head up to three.
‘Okay, guys we’re heading over to Doctor Graham now. If you'd just like to follow me.’ nurse Lucy said in Germany perky cheerleader voice she'd hit from Cameron when they first met.
The perky type was normally on Cameron's radar but something about her made him sit up and notice.
‘I'd follow that anywhere.’ somebody said nudging Cameron.
‘Shields?’ Cameron guessed. Unlike most people Cameron Bishop was not one of those people for surnames, surnames were repeated by nature, so were first names, but whole names, that was music to his ears, nothing told you more about a person then their whole name. they were powerful too, two names, and you could blackmail them, normally, even soft blackmail, the blackmail you did as a kid, blackmail when Collin Tolchard pushed Candise off a swing.
‘Higgins,’ replied the grey-haired Higgins, he wore and ill-fitting suit which seemed to be made up of perfectly square pieces of cloth, on top a white lab coat. He was one of those scientists which had turned their back to that woman earlier, Cameron noted his name and face in his head in his little yellow legal pad of his mind, and left it at that.
He'd thought about how names and faces were really all people judged you on, even if you all the talent in the world. If you had a terrible sounding name you may as well hang up whatever your craft was before you begin. Cameron Bishop was one hell of a name, even he knew that. In his youth, he'd write it repeatedly. Sometimes in long swirls of letters sometimes more of a signature of a bank manager, all compressed and quick. Doctor Higgins, was a good strong name, Collin Tolchard was the name of a nerd. He pushed that name to the back of his head in hopes to forget it. Imagining himself crumpling the note paper it was written on, it didn’t work like that, but Bishop wished it did.
All four of them sat outside doctor Graham's office. It was silent between the group other than Shields heavy breathing much heavier than someone his age, Cameron guessed twenty-seven and he wouldn't be wrong, no twenty-seven year old should be breathing like a pug in heat.
More gridded ground sat under the overly loose fitting shoes in red and black that hovered around Cameron's feet, seemingly never really touching the sides.
He stretched his legs as long as they could go, watching his laces as them moved far away from him. He rattled his feet around watching his shoes bounce around like bobble heads, loose on a dodgy spring, his old beaten car popped into his head, the only link, a dog which sat in the rear window, it nodded its head to those behind him in traffic.
Once his feet had completely their show Cameron looked back up realising the nurse and Higgins had made their way into the doctor's office. Shields sat silently, he was a mousy man with a beak of a nose. Shields adjusted his collar on his shirt, pushed his glasses onto the bulbous bridge of his nose and rubbed the underneath, which was red and cracked around the nostril.
‘I always get a cold. At this point I don't remember not having one.’ Said Shields in his thick nebbish voice as if someone was holding his nose.
‘Allen Shields?’ Cameron asked, a large part of his brain turned its lights on and he pushed himself forwards with his elbows. Allen Shields was a comedian from the seventies. In seventy-three he died on stage of a heart attack. Cameron remembered watching it live on TV, people thought it was an act at the time, here he was alive with Cameron waiting to get his balls groped, he didn’t look like Cameron remembered him, he used to be all frail and small, almost shriveled up, he didn’t look that anymore just acted that way. Guess those that thought it was an act got it right.
Allen looked around for spies. He was an itchy person; his nerves were shot and even that made him nervous, heart attack at twenty-seven, what a way to go. An older woman’s voice told him, not now, but in his past, Bishop realised he’d be living in the past most of the time now, there was little future for him. Twenty-seven, fell off the stage, it was the drugs I bet. This was the voice of the woman who once lived next door, Cameron struggled to recall her name, this was before he realised the importance of them, he did remember the fact she lived with her brother, but until the age of fifteen he thought they were married. Mrs, his brain trailed off, she probably wasn’t even a Misses.
‘That's me.’ He corrected his glasses. Bishops head refocused. Who’s he, Allen Shield the legal notepad replied.
‘But don't be yelling it. I'm supposed to be dead. You have been welcomed to club twenty-seven by Simion yet?’ Allen asked dangling his short legs below his chair, he was taller then he looked on TV but he looked about four inches tall on TV so that wasn't hard to beat, if you removed Allen’s head, as gently as possible of course, and replaced it with the head of a child, bear with me, you would mistake him for a youngster, waiting to be called in to see his head of year. Principle to those Americans out there.
‘Yeah. He's a bit,’ Cameron stopped to search for the right word.
‘Garish, isn't he.’ He'd pulled the right word from somewhere probably the matted beard he'd forgotten had grown over the time in the vase.
Allen nodded along.
‘He didn't, try anything, did he?’ Allen asked. Confusion filled Cameron’s face, of what you could see of it, which was mainly his cheeks so confusion filled his cheeks instead. Allen on the other hand looked clean shaven, either that or he never grew facial hair.
‘Simon, he's.’ Allen made a flopping gesture with his hand.
‘Gay? So, what. A guy who lived at number forty-two he was gay. Loved baking but that's the only problem I had with him. He’d leave baked goods at people’s door if he’d been a little loud the night before. That’s how you get ants.’ the door behind him opened.
The two of them shut up. Which was probably a good thing being Allen was probably about to say something very stupid. Cameron's mother always told him to never meet his idols because he'd regret it. So, Cameron had chosen idols which were dead, Allen was one of his idols, and he certainly wasn't dead, and a little homophobic. Homophobic and not dead made a terrible idol to have, look at the pope.
Higgins left the room first followed by the Doc, a small circular of flesh covered plastic sat in the middle of his arm, in the center of that a dot of red was growing. Cameron hoped he had deposited blood and not been shot up with something that may rock his sobriety boat, he did hope he was the kind of doctor who gave out sweets, or at the very least a cookie.
Mikey had said it was mandatory but Cameron hoped they'd simply forget how mandatory it was and skip him. Bishop had to take another deep breath, breathing exercises were one of the four pillars of his program, four pillars, twelve steps, it was a roman coliseum to stay sober. Normally, for Cameron, the first one that worked.
‘Shields. You're next. If you wouldn't mind waiting a little longer mister Bishop. We like to have the newest inmates last. Normally it takes us a little longer to,’ The doctor stopped to think about his wording.
‘Get acquainted.’ the doctor said stepping out the way so Allen could pass into the long white and blue room which was lit so extremely, that you weren't able to see anything past some of the chairs. When the door was open the bleed out of light give Cameron a headache behind the eyes.
Cameron grinned softly without showing any teeth.
The doctor showed the same face and walked into his room with Allen already in.
Bishop squirreled his nose at the words get acquainted.
Higgins had already left. He himself being a doctor, Cameron guessed he was a doctor but anyone could buy a white lab coat, being a doctor the conversation around him must have been droll, Cameron thought to himself.
He sat alone in the hallway. When Allen was here the time never seemed to slow down, in fact other than the few seconds where Shields turned out to find gay people a little off putting, Cameron would have said that the time went quite quickly. Now that's all he could think of. In his hea
d, Allen had pulled away in disgust at the smallest mention of Simon's name, when in fact, if anything, Allen's lips curled up a little and that was all.
There were no clocks in this room, and although Cameron was wearing a watch it had wound down in the thirty-day program he'd just went through. He was sick of programs.
He twisted the crown to begin winding it back up to speed again but gave up when his subconscious pointed out that in ninety days it would be lifeless again. To Cameron it would feel like winding a watch every day for the rest of his life.
Time ticked by slowly, he wasn’t sure whether it was the actual time, his waiting or the fact he’d only turned his watch enough that it was half ticks, his mind began to wonder around how he ended up here.
How he'd found himself dead, he remembered how he'd heard about Somnus, the day after he'd been released from holding, Cameron had gone to speak to his manager in his office, why he went to the manager's office Cameron had no idea. His manager was never there, all that was ever there was a large oak wood table, on top sat a smaller similarly shaped green matt, then in the center of that sat a small white piece of card. As he stepped closer to the desk the card became clear that it was a playing card, which stated “Get out of jail free.”, his manager was one for puns. He flipped it over where a more business looking side lay, its large black font read Somus with seven digits printed below. Two days later he was dead.
Finally, after what must have been a million years the door swung open, Allen scuffled off to the right, the same way Higgins must have gone. He was gripping at his arm and mumbling to himself.
‘I knew it, I said I was sick.’ he scurried away and through some double door, in the split second they were open Cameron heard the clicking and banging of machines made of metal.
‘Mr. Bishop? would you mind coming in and sitting down on the bed.’ Asked the Doctor.
‘Wouldn’t be easier if I just lube up before I get on the bed?’ Enquired Cameron, the Doc ignored this and followed Cameron into the room.
Inside, the nurse, Lucy was just standing in the corner, she looked less attractive now she was wearing blue rubber gloves, although some thoughts still circled around Cameron's head like the sewer it was.
He shook his head to move the thoughts to the sides where he could ignore them.
Doctor Graham sat in a well-worn hospital chair, with its cracked faux blue leather, although you could sit in one of them plastic seats once and it would crumble.
he sucked air through his teeth, it must have been part of the doctorate, all doctors sucked air through their teeth this way.
‘Is Graham your first name or your last?’ asked Cameron leaning forward on the bed.
‘It’s my surname.’ Said the Doc, without looking up from the clipboard. Doctor something Graham, noted. Cameron was filling in the little part of his brain where he held names.
‘That’s handy, better than both, Doctor Graham Graham, that's one hell of a name.’ Bishop played.
‘Doctor Graham, give it to me straight.’ Cameron looked over at nurse Lucy and did that toothless grin again. She smiled back with a huge toothy grin, and a slight giggle. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand and held her laugh back.
‘Says here you were part of some sort of program.’ Graham dropped the grey clipboard, it rattled on the stainless-steel counter behind the Doc.
‘AA, not the car guys. Although I have a knack with them, cars that is. I have a beautiful red Ferrari, you like movies Doc?’ Cameron grinned again, he was on a roll, he told himself.
‘I understood what you meant.’ doctor Graham explained with a sharp tongue, he ignored the question, let a thick grey fog of silence fall over the room. The doctor’s muscles twitched a little, the hairs on the back of his hands stood up like tiny soldiers.
‘Hold him.’ the doctor barked at nurse Lucy. She grabbed him quick as a bullet, by the shoulders and held him down so he couldn't escape. Either the nurse was impossibly strong on Cameron was still a little weak from his time in the chill. He told himself it was the latter.
A pin prick in his arm and a tiny plaster to cover it. That's all Cameron walked out with. Rubbing his arm softly he padded out of the office. They were laughing as they left. He was sure of it.
Cameron walked through the double doors towards the sounds of the clanging and loud banging.
It was a compact gym, where Mikey gave him a small sheet of paper with very basic exercises on it, a so Cameron ticked off each movement on the paper Mikey followed him around with a clipboard taking notes.
‘It's not going to hit you long term,’ explained Mikey, Cameron knew he was right, the drugs would be out of his system in the ninety days he’d be in the freezer.
‘Right this is the last one, one big push.’ Mikey said as Cameron pushed the bar up. Cameron grunted one last grunt and pushed the bar back onto its stand.
‘Go shower and shave. Then the rest of the day is yours man.’ explained Mikey and that's what Cameron did.
After working out, showering and cleaning up his look, his watch had wound itself back up to full speed.
He headed down to the common area and padded around the outer circle, avoiding all the big groups and clicks. there he waited till it was time to go back in the box.
‘You’re in for the big ninety now. Ready for it?’ Mikey explained as he hooked up all the wires and strapped him down, Cameron's clothes sat next to his vase.
‘All your vitals checked out and Doctor Graham says you’re fit as a fiddle. Which is a hell of win for an ex alcoholic.’ Mikey explained.
‘Hey man, my liver was killer when I was on the bottle. I stopped because of the person I was when I was drinking, not because of my health.’ said Cameron.
‘All's fair in alcoholism and long-term hibernation.’ and the door slowly closed. Cameron focused on his bladder, not willing to let himself simply piss his pants. Pulling it tight like a woman holding her purse in a bad part of town. It gave up quickly, it’s yellow content spilled.
Chapter 3
Ninety days is a long time. Nobody had told Cameron that when he agreed to be frosted. It was an obvious statement, but when your head is dizzy and your heart freaking about, covered in your friend's blood. But in ninety days’ whole infrastructures can change. Walls can be pulled down which were erected years before. Luckily for Cameron the last three months of ninety-four, other than a sitcom about a vicar and political leaders lying through their teeth, but ninety-five wasn't going to be much different.
Day two. That's all it was to Cameron, he was pulled from his chamber by Mikey as he was yesterday. Still, as unsteady as a newborn calf he stepped forward with little help and made it down the spiral staircase unaided. Lucy was at the bottom of the stairs with newly dyed red hair. The fake copper red that bounced as she walked. Huge chunks of it were under combed making it seem nine times larger than possible, making up eighty percent of her head. It covered one eye and sad inches away from her flawless red lipstick.
‘Hello, nurse.’ Cameron said in a comical voice, upon seeing the newly red-headed nurse.
‘Oh, I love that show.’ said Simon in his blue gown for a man frosted in the twenties he understood a little too much about pop culture.
‘Have you seen the episode where they reference fingering Prince?’ asked Simon pushing his bristles down.
‘Simon your rear is out.’ said Lucy pulling his draws strings tighter.
‘I hear no complaints from the young doctor there.’ Mikey's face turned red, neither Simon or Mikey had even noticed the escaped rear. Only Lucy noticed as she was looking for it. Cameron dressed in a changing room this time, why he couldn't get dressed in a room designed for it last time he didn't know.
He only had one change of clothing with him, by the looks of it so did everyone else. This didn't really matter, though, during the three months of incubation, the crew of Somnus had enough time to wash, dry and press all the clothing of all the produce. Now dressed he was fed and sent to
wait for doctor Graham.
People he'd only met yesterday nodded at him or called him fresh frozen. Cameron had to remind himself that you'd have to make friends quickly here. Years to the outside is days to the inside which meant the only other people in his boat were the people who spent all their time asleep like him.
By the time he had gotten all his jobs done Cameron's sleep sickness had slid into nothingness. His arms hurt but the buzz from what they had shot him with, even now he put up a struggle, the mix of steroids had made their way deep into his system and even now he felt it coursing through his veins, recovering his torn muscles. Mind spiders, one of the doctors called them, that sensation you get when you’re on the tenth cup of coffee with the next pot on. His skin crawled, electric. Shot through his eyes. The dictator picked at some French fries, they’d of been German fries if all had gone to plan.
Now it was lunch. The greasiest food imaginable filled a metal tray.
Cameron stared blankly at the plate, there wasn't hunger inside of him. Even with the food sat in front of him he couldn't force himself to have a mouthful. Cameron couldn't recall eating the day before. Even though the day before was three months ago, really.
‘Not hungry?’ said a voice which when Cameron looked up belonged to Higgins.
‘Na.’ Cameron pushed the tray toward Higgins, Higgins pushed it back.
‘I don't eat meat.’ explained Higgins in that pompous way vegans say they are vegans. Cameron hadn't noticed but it was all meat. Burger patties sat in a compartment on the tray, a smaller one had pulled pork, bbq by the smell of it. In the smallest part of the tray lay two small circles of black pudding.
‘I'll have your bread and butter, though.’ Cameron handed over the small dumpling of a bun and the butter stick you commonly got in hotels.
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