Cloud Field

by A M Russell

  There is a time that you know you are about to die: My mother once told me a story about a dog that was nearing the end of its life: Instead of going down the garden for its usual afternoon amble; stayed inside near the back door. It was the place she said that the good Lord would come knocking.

  She was only little at the time. And her mother, my grandmother had friends around for afternoon tea. There they were in the front room chatting loudly about this and that, when there was a knock at the back door. My mother, being a curious child not given to doing the sensible thing; and besides no one else hearing that knock went to the door and answered it. There stood a man she thought she recognised. He chatted to my mother kindly asking if it was no trouble he might call again when the adults were less occupied and thank the lady of the house for her kindness that very morning. The old dog bounded up with such joy, leaping and snuffling at the stranger’s hand, in a way that suggested a familiar and well-loved acquaintance. My mother was quite at ease therefore talking to the man about her recent problem with a boy at school who was in the habit of pulling her plaits when he sat behind her in Maths class. The man listened most seriously, and indicating that he knew the boy in question, indicated her would have a gentle word with him. The dog bounded around him still, and then stopped by his feet and looked up at him all perky and full of playful life. The man asked about the dog then. My mother (remembering she was very young at the time) told him that the dog was my grandfather’s animal, and that he wouldn’t be home until an hour after this. She told him that the dog was often out walking with him, but also would wait by the lane end to see him return. The Man bid my mother good bye and promised to see to another small matter of a missing bracelet. (He seemed to know a lot of people). The stranger left then, with the dog jumping joyfully all around him. My mother supposing that the dog, who was a sensible creature and rather intelligent, would be waiting for her Dad once he reached the lane end saw nothing untoward about him trotting down there now accompanying the Man as far as that, to where there was a good view (and a smell on the wind) of anybody who came that way. She went out of the back door herself as the stranger left. He waved to her once, and the dog paused wagging its tale. She went and sat on the swing in the garden, the sun popped out from behind a cloud and the day was lovely and warm. She had almost nodded off, what with the distant chinking of teacups and the soft buzzing of bumble bees on big pink sweet smelling flowers and those big bright yellow things on long stalks. She suddenly was awake and heard her mother calling her inside.

  There was grandfather – her Dad, washing his hands and her mother wringing hers saying we ought to call the veterinary to make quite sure; because her friend’s dog had been not really dead but just hibernated because of the cold. My grandmother, usually bright and forthright said silly things when she was upset, and the practice had continued to this day. My granddad had stood and gently but firmly told her that their old friend was indeed on the other side of the road… meaning heaven my mother supposed. And she better send the Ladies out through the front door straight away. Grandfather considered the vaporous tendencies of one of the ladies who had fainted in church at the sight of a stray sheep that had somehow found its way into the vestry and chewed through a hymn book.

  My mother looked up at her father. He gathered her onto his knee, and explained that the good Lord had taken the dog with him, because he needed him to do a job in heaven now, and she could be sad, and it was alright to cry, even if her mother insisted on the really big hankies out of the top shelf of the dresser.

  My mother was a little sad and blew her nose on her own hanky from the pocket of her smock. The dog laid there in its basket all quiet. She told her Dad about the stranger and how the dog was so happy to see him, how kind he was and that the dog had bounded down the lane with its ears up and tail wagging so fast it looked like lots - like a cartoon tail. He said yes, that was it; supposing she under stood rightly what death was. My mother asked why he left his body behind. Ah! said grandfather to my mother, that would be just temporary until the world is all straightened out and he’s got a new body. My mother reckoned the dog already had on account of the jumping and the tail wagging.

  They had a little ceremony in the back garden and my mother only cried a little. Grandmother was pleased she was so brave. But she felt it was ok. Later when she was much older, the boy who had teased her at school stopped by one day with some eggs from the farmhouse from his Mum. They talked and he remembered the day he’d stopped being as annoying. It was that other farmer he’d said who’d talked to him about his worries, and how nervous he was about exams and other things. And had said that was a long way off and not to be concerned about it, because when it came to it he’d be ready. He advised him to ask the other children who were good at something if he was worried, or if he felt that it was a little thing that needed clearing up by not seeing the teacher. The boy agreed. The man says by the way… that girl in class, the one you sit behind, she is very good at numbers. If you stop pulling her hair I think in six months she’ll be much less annoying and you can ask her for help. (That was more or less what happened). Oh! The schoolboy says, your dog, the old boy that died, he was there wasn’t he, looking awfully pleased with himself. My mother asked him what time it was. Four o’clock he told her on Tuesday as he went home. My mother said thanks for the eggs and he left to go home. And that, she told me proves one thing that there is a point to everything. Because the dog was mortally cold by Saturday and the classmate had seen him later the same week. And if you believe it, it would help not to be worried about what the good book says about ghosts and stuff like that; after all we don’t know everything. The boy had stopped teasing her so that proves it.

  And it turned out that another Lady at church had found her missing bracelet, and after some time of leaving it in a saucer in the hall at home had been prompted to take it back and see to whom it belonged. A man had called round with a parcel, and remarked on what a unique little chain it was, laid there in the dish. The Lady felt so bad, she took it back the very next day and finding out it belonged to my Mother gave it back to her directly saying she’d meant no harm and sorry for the worry of not asking whose it was sooner.

  There is a doorway marked life. And I wished with all my heart I could take it. I felt cheated. I wasn't ready to go back, to be put through it all again. There had been something in Marcia I noticed particularly, and to a certain extent in all of them. It was a fatalistic mind-set that seemed to work from all the experiences they had, remembered consciously or not. I simply wasn't ready to die. Even if in this place it just proved to be a temporary setback. The pattern had to be broken. I felt I was starting to choke as the power of all that mineral water filled the tunnel behind the bars. I considered letting go. But I choose to hang on and drown rather than be smashed to bits on the way down the waterfall. I was underwater now and holding my breath. The rational thing would be to open ones mouth and let it flow in; to beckon the soft silence; to cease to struggle. But struggle I did. A shift in the flow and I had a brief pocket of air that my greedy lungs sucked in and recharged. Then I was underwater again. The stronger force of a current was beginning to be felt flowing down the now underwater tunnel. It would wash us off as soon as we fell unconscious. I could see those few yards and the steps up to higher ground like a strange pixie land where happy little creatures danced in rows. I tried to breathe out slowly conserving my air. The determination I had to go down fighting meant I would die with a clear conscience at least. But who would know except me? I thought I saw that farmer guy from my mother's story walking towards me down the watery corridor. I carried on breathing softly out, but I would soon be in deficit and the desire to breathe in combined with the hazy throb of my temples would do it at last. Things began to go fuzzy. I thought the gate moved. I was spiralling round then and darkness took me.

  *****

  Twenty One

  I awoke. I was laid in the recovery position on a hard gritty surface. My eyes fel
t bruised and flickered open in a softly lit cave. Between my finger and thumb of the left hand I rubbed pale sand. My chest ached and I had a fairly sharp pain in my left shin. I laid there adjusting to the fact of being alive. My left wrist felt raw too. I tried to move my head to look at my hand. It throbbed rather too much so I relaxed again and rolled my eyes round in that direction. There was a reddish abrasion on my wrist and across part of my hand. I tried flexing my fingers checking every joint. I then tried to move every other bit of my body, one joint at a time. That shin really was hurting. I suppose the pain was waking me up. Slowly I rose up on my right elbow. So far, so good. Then up a little further into a half sitting position. Then I dragged my right leg round and sat on the floor with my knees drawn up. I reflexively rubbed my shin. The pain eased. I was able then to turn slightly and take stock of my surroundings. The small cave was filled with organic lights and was also lit by several small lamps with naked flames. I became aware of the quiet then, and also of a heavy aromatic scent in the air that seemed to emanate from a small wooden box with patterned holes around the side. A thin stream of whitish smoke curled from the apertures and scented the air. I was alone in this quiet place. The soft lights, and the purely familiar sensation of my own body, convinced me that I was, in fact…. alive. I felt battered. My ribs ached too. I tried to work out what had happened, but it made me feel all queasy to I just sat there waiting for my strength to return.

  I few minutes later I stood up, and limped slowly to the cave entrance. I passed through into a slightly larger space that appeared similar except for a long low bench down the middle of the room. In the corner stood the familiar shape of our packs. A limped painfully across. There were three. It meant....

  'Davey!'

  I turned as quickly as my current stiffness would allow. My chest felt like I'd been hit by a bus.

  'Janey! Oh my God!' I half limped half fell across to the bench thingy, and clung to the edge of it. 'Is it you?'

  'Yes.' she sat down near me, but not touching.

  'How? What?' my ribs really did hurt,

  'You were rescued. I think you might be concussed.'

  'No. I'm fine. Apart from all the....,' I pointed at my wrist and my shin. 'Actually it bloody hurts! Have you got any pain killers?'

  'Yes.' She lifted a case out of a big wooden box that stood near another entrance.

  'How much shall I give you?' she asked.

  'Whatever the max. dose is.'

  She got a hypo and rolled back my left sleeve. I saw her regard the tattoo with an odd thoughtfulness for a second, then carried on rolling it up. She put the stuff in the muscle of my upper arm. It was basic but quickly absorbed. I began to feel better within a couple of minutes.

  'Where are the other two?'

  'They're here.' she seemed hesitant.

  'What is it?'

  'Come. Follow me.' she turned, 'would you like me to help you?'

  'I think I'd like to just do it myself.' I limped after her.

  We passed through a sleeping area full of bunk beds, and then into another room like the one we had left a moment ago. This had a series of beds around the walls. They were low camp bed style ones. There were boxes of medical equipment. And on one side there were shelves with cardboard boxes stacked up, as well as a table with a chair and a lantern and some papers and pens. I ignored all of this. I was concerned with the tableau facing me I limped across. A dark-haired women sat on a low stool next to a man in one of the beds. And a man I knew leaned over him and was listening to his chest. This medic stood up as I approached.

  'Aiden...' I said weakly.

  'Davey's had the pain relief.' said Janey. I'd almost forgotten she was beside me, so intent was I at seeing the patient. The dark-haired woman moved aside. Aiden whispered something to her, and she left by another arched stone doorway.

  I sat down slowly on the stool the woman had vacated. I looked at him. My Brother, my friend...

  Jared's face was pale. His lips had a faint tinge of colour. His eyes were closed and flickered every moment or so.

  'Where's Oliver?'

  'Your other friend is asleep.' I looked to Aiden as he spoke. He had put a pair of glasses on and was reading the label of one of the small boxes. He pulled it out and put it on the table.

  'I need to give you this as well.'

  'What is it?'

  'It's something to stop your lungs from filling back up with fluid.'

  'Ok.' Janey handed me a water flask. Aiden, the tablet. It tasted vile. I had trouble swallowing it. It eventually went down in the third mouthful. I drank some more.

  'What wrong with him?' I asked then.

  'Janey?' Aiden said.

  'He's had a really bad crack on the head. We've given him the right meds. He had to be resuscitated Davey.'

  'So what does that mean?' I had started to blink really fast.

  'It means,' said Aiden, 'we've done everything we can for now. I'm watching him for the rest of the night.’

  I looked at my wrist. No watch. 'Where is it?'

  'Your watch is here, Davey.' he gave it back to me. I strapped it to the opposite wrist. 4 am. I looked back at Jared. He seemed so small. Perhaps it was that I had grown in some indefinable way. Jared didn't actually look any different in size. Perhaps the painkillers. Maybe I was dying. I kind of hoped so. I had wanted Janey to see me at my best. This wasn't what I had in mind.... Besides I needed to pee.

  I stood. 'I think I want to...'

  'Just through there; second on the left. Then Janey will take you to a bed. My nurse will come back to check on you at sun up. That's at six am round here.'

  'Umm...Thanks Aiden...'

  'I'll tell straight away if anything changes.' he looked at me with real sadness. 'I'm sorry. There's not much else to offer right now.'

  'You've done so much already.' I said. It sounded kind of weirdly formal and trite. So I just went to the boys "bucket room" and then followed Janey to another dormitory.

  However I felt, this was better than everything. A real bed with a real mattress. Janey knelt down in front of me and eased off my boots. She swung me round so I was laid down on the cot. She put a blanket over me then left without a word. I realised with a start that she was going back to watch over Jared; her brother.

  I couldn’t sleep. I supposed it was because my system was so shocked. I lay very still enjoying the comfort of a bed. How long was it since I’d slept properly? The last time I rested properly was…. The bright day with the igloo and our snowman....I thought about Jules then. I supposed that Janey must know by now. Why was our Jules still in the cell? But most of all: where the hell was Hanson? Since the day we left the egg land I had not seen him. Everyone else was accounted for, one way or another. I tried to formulate a plan. And unless Hanson turned up soon he wasn’t included. It was nothing to do with the ambivalence he generated in most of us. I realised I wanted to save him. In some small way I felt I owed him. He had interviewed me at the University, and first met at Main Base. He was the one who had introduced me to the others. There was a feeling though that Hanson was dangerous in a hazy undefined way. He had something I did not, knowledge about the others from the files. Access to confidential information that I did not have the authority to view. Marcia had access too. She had known how to turn on the mysterious tag. With a chill of discomfort I remembered I was still wearing Marcia’s tag. She had fallen wearing mine. Where was her body? I had the code for my tag. But only George or the others at Main Base could pull up the record on their little computer screens. I envied them their comfort. They sat and moved the players around. They watched us and recorded the results. Every time someone died something went fuzzy. Data danced across those same screens. Where they aware of the difference? George knew. Did he tell? No. He just took a break, and went to the entrance booth to mail a letter. The place we all had to stop before going into or out of the restricted area.

  I breathed long and slow then…. Memories; a hop, skip and a jump away. Arriving, an
d leaving. Just a visual check after the initial introduction. Why so casual? There was a reason…. And it mattered. It mattered so badly my head began to throb. I had been looking at this backwards. We had suffered. But for what? So someone else could have something they desperately wanted or needed. I consciously relaxed again. I let my mind drift backwards over the simple things I remembered from the beginning. Hanson saying something: Look at the guard….Now look at me I want to see how observant you are….Just come in here you’ll see that later….Don’t bother the lab coats, they don’t want you looking in there….Eyes on me people….I want you all to stay focused….Don’t bother with that just now, take a look later on….. Look here…. Look there…..What did you see?.... do you see the compound ahead now?.....

  I held my breath. It was there, like a wave breaking over a rock. It was Hanson who set the scene; Hanson who painted the picture; Hanson who captivated everyone with his persuasive oratory; it was Hanson who made us look away from…. I recalled something else then, he hadn’t wanted us to see the Psychiatrist Lady. In my mind I’d always assumed she was on the “wrong” side….but yet….

  I thought about it some more. Hanson wasn’t evil, he was just the smartest idiot I’d ever met. He had all the knowledge, he knew all the rules. He was a part time lecturer at the University. Whoh! Where did that come from? Jean the PA to the science dept. had introduced us. He was in…. Sociology. So what the hell was a sociologist doing telling us all to look the other way for? Unless….

  And here I sat up and blinked hard. It was like that moment when Jared explained about the actual reason why we were here. And I had my moment. But Curly was right too. Relativistic laws. Who could know more about all of this than the people at Main Base…..? Come on brain! Think?