Spine

by Steven Jenkins

  It’s been three days since he cast me out of Hell. I thought I’d miss it. I really did. But once you get used to the drastic change in temperature, you realise that, hey, maybe Hell could be a little cooler. I’m just saying.

  And I certainly won’t miss the cruelty, the meaningless torment. It’s easy to watch the horrors of Hell from afar, to say that there’s nothing you can do to stop it, that you don’t have a loud enough voice. But when you’re actually up there, a part of it all, with a strong voice, and there’s still nothing you can do to stop it…

  Well then what’s the point?

  The only thing I’ll miss is Kylar.

  She was the only reason anyone would want to live in such a sweaty dump, ruled by a monstrous tyrant.

  Kylar was my first love. My one love. She only noticed me the day I became The Devil’s apprentice. Before that I was just a nobody, a passing empty void, with no redeeming qualities at all.

  But I noticed her. Those deep blue eyes, that fire-red hair, stature that could make the greatest of monsters kneel before her beauty, her boundless power.

  And until I got the job, until I was standing up there, next to the burning throne of skulls, the chances of bagging a woman like that were pretty low. But everything changed the day I was anointed Satan’s right-hand man. All of a sudden, I sprung miraculously into existence. I had my very own followers, an abundance of love interests, and more power than I ever thought I needed.

  But all I wanted was her.

  In the early days of employment, I used to watch her captivating eyes burn with intrigue, trying desperately to figure out who I really was—and why Satan saw fit to hire me. Some would say she was a little shallow, and maybe they were right. But there were so many of us that looked upon her with such envious eyes. Why would she notice me among the thousands of drooling fans? Hell, maybe I wouldn’t have noticed her if she weren’t Satan’s wife.

  And there lay the problem.

  Believe it or not, Satan doesn’t look too kindly on employees that fall for his bride. Even in a place like Hell, where morals and guilt are hard to find, stealing someone’s love is pretty frowned upon.

  But I loved her. More than anything. And she loved me. It took her a while to come ‘round, but she got there. In the end. We kept our love a secret for nearly four hundred years. Luckily for us, this was during Satan’s downtime. After any long and stressful thousand years, he always takes a few centuries to relax, to find himself, to reconnect with ‘what makes a good dark overlord’. That’s one of the reasons he recruited me: to hold the fort while he was gone.

  But I guess he didn’t bank on me stealing his wife.

  Nor did I bank on him cutting his trip short.

  Word got ‘round pretty quickly that he’d caught us together—screwing on his most sacred of possessions: his mighty throne. We tried to deny it at first, tried to convince him that it was a simple misunderstanding. But it was too late. There was no talking myself out of this one—no matter how smart I thought I was.

  There was no trial for me. Just torture. Torture that lasted another three hundred years. But no matter how many creatures grazed on my flesh, picked at my bones, or how many daggers sliced through my chest—the only real torture was being separated from Kylar. The time dragged and dragged, my thoughts swirled and twisted in my head, and as each minute, each century crawled by, my bottomless love for Kylar grew.

  And with it, my hatred for Satan and everything that he stands for.

  I hate the creatures. The loveless, empty-eyed obtuse fiends that dwell in this putrid hole that used to be my home. The very notion of such a place creeps over my skin like a seething rash. If it weren’t already a boiling hot furnace of monsters, of sick, twisted sadists, then I’d happily burn it to the ground.

  And with it the Devil himself.

  How dare you take away my love! A love that you would gladly hurt. A love that you would leave at the drop of a hat.

  How dare you!

  I have lived in the darkness, in the depths of fire, for far too long. Kylar has shown me light. I will come back for her one day. I promise. When I’m stronger. When I have my own army. I shall build my own world, my own sanctuary, without pain, without torture, without hatred.

  Without fire.

  And absolutely no red!

  You shouldn’t have crossed me.

  My world will be better. Bigger. It will have laughter. And it will have love.

  And it shall be known as…

  * * *

  Heaven!

  Watch Over Me

  Colin Turner slowly came to. His head pounded as the light from the ceiling hit his bloodshot eyes.

  “Does it have to be so bright in here?” he groggily asked. He then began a loud coughing fit. Doctor Wright ran to his bedside and handed him a glass of water.

  Colin sipped the drink and struggled to swallow between coughs. “Thank you,” he said, as he set the glass down on the bedside cabinet.

  “It’s no bother,” Doctor Wright said. “How are you feeling this evening?”

  Colin ran a hand over his gaunt, pale face, through to his thin brown hair, and groaned. “I feel how I probably look: like shit I’m guessing.”

  Doctor Wright smiled. “At least your sense of humour’s still intact. I’m pretty sure—”

  Coughing again, Colin reached for a tissue to his side and held it over his mouth. There was blood on the tissue when he eventually pulled it away. He sighed, and then turned to Doctor Wright, who had clearly seen it too. “This medication is obviously not working,” Colin said; defeated. “I’m getting worse, aren’t I?”

  “You just need to give it more time.”

  “It’s been six months. Six months and I’m still coughing up blood. I’m no expert, but that can’t be good.”

  “It’s a new drug. It’s still not perfected. You knew this when you agreed to try it.”

  “I know that but when is it going to be perfected? When I’m dead? This is the third version of this drug and it’s not doing a bloody thing.”

  Doctor Wright shook his head. “That’s not true. It’s managed to prolong your life by at least three months. And your blood count is up by thirteen percent.”

  “But I’ve spent those precious three months stuck in this goddamn bed. And the three months before that. And for what? So I can live out what little time I have left with tubes coming out of me, listening to so-called doctors telling me to be patient?”

  “If the bed is uncomfortable we can have one of the nurses change it for you.”

  “I don’t care about the stupid bed!” Colin snapped. “I just want my life back! Is that too much to ask for? I can’t breathe in this room! I feel like it’s shrinking around me every bloody day! I feel so trapped, so claustrophobic, like I’m buried alive…in my own fucking tomb! I can’t take it any—” He started to cough again with only enough time to use his hand to cup his mouth. After nearly thirty seconds the coughing fit ceased. Glancing down at his blood-soaked hand, he shook his head in frustration.

  Doctor Wright handed him another tissue. “Can I get you anything else? A tea? Coffee? Maybe a sandwich?”

  A tear ran down Colin’s cheek as he lay back against the pillow, closing his eyes.

  Colin didn’t reply.

  As the night rain hammered against the window, Colin stared out into the hospital grounds, listening as Doctor Wright gave him the news.

  “There’s nothing more I can tell you,” Doctor Wright said, holding a white clipboard to his chest, his eyes swimming in disappointment. “I wish there was better news, but…”

  Colin shook his head. “So let me get this straight: if I stay on the drugs, and if I’m lucky, they’ll give me another six to eight weeks—but if I come off them then there’s a strong possibility that I could drop dead within the next three days. Is that about right? Did I miss anything?”

  Doctor Wright nodded then sat on the end of the bed. “In a nutshell: yes. But there’s always a chance o
f a breakthrough.”

  Colin sighed loudly. “A chance? You’ve been saying that for the past twelve months.”

  “Exactly. You would’ve died months ago if it hadn’t been for the drugs. They gave you almost a year of your life back.”

  “Some bloody life.”

  Doctor Wright said nothing. He just remained on the bed unable to maintain eye contact with Colin’s hopeless glare.

  Colin heard the door open; his eyes stung as he tried to focus on the two figures entering.

  But then his face lit up when he saw his wife Ellen and his eight-year-old daughter, Stacey, walk up to his bedside.

  Their forced smiles were obvious to Colin as he tried to get up to greet them.

  “Don’t get up, Col,” Ellen said, holding up a hand in protest. “You’re not well enough yet. We’ll come to you.”

  Obeying his wife, he remained on the bed. “I’m so glad you’re here—the both of you. It’s been hell this last week without seeing you.”

  Ellen sat on one side of the bed and leant over to kiss Colin’s lips. Stacey sat on the other side and did the same. Beaming, Colin grasped their hands. “I’ve missed you both so much,” he said. “You know that, don’t you?”

  Ellen placed her other hand over his. “Of course we do. We’ve been right there outside waiting for you. But the doctor said we needed to keep you incubated.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Doctor’s orders. Makes me sound like a bloody leper. Fat load of good it did anyway.”

  Ellen frowned, catching a glimpse of Stacey’s distraught face. “Don’t say things like that. You have to be more positive.”

  Turning to his daughter, he held back a tear. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I am positive. Especially since I’ve made a decision. An important one.”

  “Oh, and what’s that, Col?” she asked, her blue eyes filled with intrigue, still hanging onto faith, to hope.

  A big grin spread across his face; it felt alien to him. Colin hadn’t smiled like that in some time. “They’ve found a way to save me. So I can finally come home to you guys, away from this vile, soul-sucking hospital. For good this time. I promise.”

  Ellen let go of his hand, grimacing in confusion. “What are you talking about? The doctor assured us we’d be informed of any new developments in your treatment. But all he told us was that the drugs—”

  “You can come home, Daddy?” Stacey interrupted, her eyes burning with excitement.

  Colin nodded. “Yes. We can be a family again. Just the three of us. No more hospital coffee. No more reading out-of-date magazines. No more doctors prodding me day and night. Home for good.”

  “So what has Doctor Wright told you that he hasn’t already told us?” Ellen asked, her tone laced with cynicism. “A different course of drugs? A new procedure?”

  He shook his head. “Not exactly. And it wasn’t Doctor Wright.”

  “Then who was it?”

  “It was Doctor Williams. He’s from a different department here in the hospital. Well, I say doctor…he’s more of a scientist.”

  “And how can he help you?”

  Colin braced. “Doctor Wright told me that, although the drugs are helping, the rate the disease is growing is too fast. Basically, the drugs just can’t keep up—at least not yet anyway.”

  “So how far away are they to improving it? Are we talking weeks? Months?”

  Colin’s optimistic tone faded as he grasped Ellen’s hand again. “Two years.”

  Ellen’s eyes widened in shock. “Two years! There must be some mistake. Surely they can speed things up.”

  Colin shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ellen. They’ve tried. It’s just not ready. It doesn’t matter how much money I throw at them, how many favours I call on—it’s just no good.”

  “So what’s this Doctor Williams able to do for you?”

  Colin began another coughing fit into a tissue. He quickly slipped it under the quilt, concealing the blood specks from his family.

  “Are you okay, Daddy?” Stacey asked; eyes filled with concern.

  “Here,” Ellen said, handing him a glass of water from the bedside cabinet, “drink this.”

  Trying desperately to smile between coughs, Colin took the glass and sipped the water. “Thanks.” He then set it back down. “Where was I? Oh yes: Doctor Williams. He’s been working on something that should answer all our problems. As I already said, any cure is at least two years away, but, as you both know,” his grip tightened on Stacey’s hand as he braced to say the words, “I won’t last that long.”

  Holding back a bout of tears, Stacey squeezed his hand even tighter. “Please Daddy, don’t say that.”

  “Don’t worry, angel,” he replied, his enthusiasm replenished. “I’ll never leave you. I’ll always be here. This doctor has the solution. I’m positive.”

  “So what can he do that Doctor Wright can’t?” Ellen asked. “I mean, I’ve never heard anyone even mention a Doctor Williams before.”

  “Have you ever heard of something called Stasis?”

  Ellen and Stacey both shook their heads.

  “Well, in Greek, the word Stasis means standing still, or, to put it another way: a state of suspended animation. It’s part of the space program, which they’ve been developing for years in this very hospital. Talk about a stroke of luck.”

  Ellen sighed. “A stroke of luck? How can believing in some science-fiction rubbish be a stroke of luck?”

  “It’s not rubbish. It’s completely real. And it works. It’s been tried and tested, and it’s totally safe. All that’s going to happen is I’ll be sort of put to sleep while they get my medication up to standard. And that’s it, put simply.”

  “So let me get this straight: you’ll be frozen for two years while they try to fix the problem with your medication.”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  Ellen shook her head in protest. “That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. And what are we supposed to do in the meantime? Sit and wait for a miracle cure? And what if it’s five years before they come up with a better drug? Or even ten years? What then?”

  Stacey started to sob.

  “Don’t cry, angel,” Colin said softly, leaning in close to her. “You have nothing to be sad about. This is good news. I’ll be able to come home again. And I’ll see you every day, watching you grow up. I won’t miss a moment of it. Okay? So don’t worry about Daddy. Everything’s going to be all right.” He glared at Ellen. “What happened to being positive?”

  Ellen didn’t reply.

  “Look,” Colin said, “It’s only going to be two years—maybe even sooner. Who knows? And then everything will be fine. I promise.”

  Ellen rubbed her tired eyes with her palms, the stress and exhaustion clearly showing on her face. “You do what you think is right,” she said, beaten.

  Colin lay back on the bed, and then turned to the window. Swallowing hard, he asked: “What other choice do I have, Ellen?”

  She didn’t reply.

  Colin struggled to stand as Doctor Williams helped him into the booth. It reminded him of an MRI scanner; the sheer, gut-wrenching claustrophobia of being encased in a metal coffin; the thick, cold colours; the clattering of computer keyboards. And just like the inside of an MRI scanner, he hated every minute of it.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Ellen said, standing next to a weeping Stacey. “There must be another solution.”

  Colin shook his head. “We’ve been through this a hundred times. It’s the only way. Don’t worry. It’ll only be for twenty-four months. Two Christmases. Half a world cup. I bet you’ll still have the same mobile-phone contract by the time I get out. It’s gonna be a breeze. I promise.”

  She turned to Doctor Williams as he grasped the handle of the booth door. “You’re positive it won’t hurt him?” she asked.

  “You have nothing to worry about,” Doctor Williams replied with a smile. “As soon as I start the process your husband will think that no time has passed at all. To h
is mind, the wait will be instantaneous. In fact, when we wake him he’ll have a hard time believing that two years has even gone by.”

  Nodding, she let out a long nervous breath. “Okay.” She then took hold of Stacey’s hand, and they both walked up to Colin. “Well then…I guess I’ll see you in two years.”

  “Two years? You’ll be able to see me whenever you both want,” Colin said, beaming. “I’ll be right here. Behind the glass.”

  “You know what I mean.” She leant forward and hugged him. “I love you so much. I’ll be here every day watching you sleep. I promise.”

  Colin started to cry as he kissed her lips. “I know you will.” He then reached down and hugged Stacey.

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you too, angel.”

  Ellen and Stacey stepped back as Doctor Williams slowly closed the heavy glass door. It locked noisily into place like the doors of a jet.

  Colin could no longer hear the outside world, only the sound of his heavy breathing. He could feel himself shudder as the nerves slithered around his body, filling his stomach with butterflies. His heart pounded hard against his chest as he watched Ellen and Stacey wave him goodbye. Then Doctor Williams held his thumb up and nodded. Colin returned both gestures.

  Doctor Williams pushed a sequence of buttons on his computer and the booth started to rumble and vibrate loudly. Colin suddenly felt nauseous as his entire body tingled. He could feel his legs almost buckle as the vibrations increased. His eyelids started to get heavy, but he fought hard to keep them open.

  And then he felt nothing as the glass began to steam over…

  Has it worked? Colin thought. Am I frozen? Has it been two years already? Surely not. Or maybe it has. The doctor did say it would feel instantaneous.

  No, it can’t be.

  The steamed glass door slowly started to clear. Ellen! his mind called out when he saw her and Stacey and Doctor Williams in the exact same spot as before. Stacey! Can you hear me? It’s Daddy. He watched as they both wept, still staring at him through the glass.