Finally, I felt something stir. “Yes!” I cried with elation, kind of how I imagine people do when rain falls after a rain dance. “I’m doing it! I’m doing it!”
It started with just a drop, slowly and surely growing into a workable stream. Thank the world for beer. It always holds something sizable back for you, usually to annoy you later at night when you’d rather just sleep, but now that was just what was needed.
“Good lad!” cried Butter, then coughed. “Keep at it.”
I did as best as I could. At first, it didn’t seem like I was getting anywhere. I was peeing right into the side of that pile, but even as the bits I weed on were burned and fizzed away, more rubble would slide down to take its place. We edged forwards like this, inch by inch, one tiny step at a time, and I kept my pee line facing straight ahead, careful with my aim so as to concentrate it most effectively. It was slow, shaky work, peeing in the same spot for what seemed like far too long before we had a chance to move onto the next spot. Moving we were though, because there came a moment when I realised we were wedged inside the mound, cramped between it and the wall. As we squeezed our way forwards, the sheer force of our bodies was the only thing holding the rubble that towered to one side.
“I’m not sure this is going to work.”
“Don’t say that,” said Butter. “Just give it your best shot. Come on!”
I kept on, amazed that I still had any liquid in me. I prayed over and over for the wee to continue flowing, for us not to be burned or crushed to death. Perhaps God was listening, because I did indeed have it in me. I kept on cutting through.
“That’s it, lad!” said Butter. “You’re doing it.”
I kept on peeing, kept edging forwards, kept burning us a path. To the left of us were the ruins, and to the right, the wall was still standing and the wreckage ahead was lessening. Before I knew it, I was able to see through to the street outside: parked cars, a streetlight, the higher windows of the building opposite. I realised with delight that the rubble was only about as high as my chest now. I peed on, somehow, and there was a great cheer from outside as people realised we were escaping.
“Help!” I cried. “We need help!”
I pushed forwards, down to the last dregs of urine. The mound ahead was only the height of my waist now. When the last dribble was spent, I was reduced to kicking and screaming my way through.
“Dave!” someone shouted.
“Bill!”
I looked ahead and saw him rushing towards us. He reached the other side of the mound and started grabbing bits of brick and chucking them aside. We were almost out now. More people came to our aid, lifting the debris out of our way.
Finally, we stumbled out onto the pavement. Someone pulled Butter from my shoulders. A cheer went through the crowd, but we barely noticed it. Both of us were coughing our guts out. I sank to my knees.
“Not here!” cried Bill.
I felt him lifting me from behind, dragging me further away from the building and into the road. My head felt heavy on my shoulders. I could barely lift it. He pulled me, and I watched my limp and dust-caked feet sliding across the dark concrete.
There was a rumbling sound. Yet another collective scream rose from the crowd. I glanced up in time to see the building falling in on itself with a monumental crash. The blue-green flames were lapping out into the open air and dust was rising in an unstoppable cloud. It was as if the whole place had fallen into the centre of the earth.
I watched this with an extremely heavy heart and a headache that seemed to crack open my skull with a hammer. A few seconds more and we would have been toast. Dead. History. I was exhausted, overheated, thirsty, and my skin was raw. My plan hadn’t worked, but everything would change now. Solar Ray was gone. I couldn’t possibly know what would happen next, yet strangely, in that moment, I was happy.
I knew a sort of miracle had just occurred.
*****
What I really needed at that crucial moment was to think straight, consider my next moves, and then act accordingly. Unfortunately, though, I had been well and truly knocked for six by the smoke and heat and shock of being in that fire, not to mention the huge effort that went into rescuing Butter. I was barely capable of deciding where to place my backside.
Bill stayed quietly with me. For a while, I just sat all in a daze where he had put me, on the pavement across the road, opposite the offices. I coughed and sweated, and my head continued to ache horribly. My eyes struggled to focus on anything, and every time I moved my head, bright red lines seemed to dance in the spaces in front of me. Generally, I felt about as green and spun out as I’ve ever felt, sort of like after a heavy night down the Moka Club when they chuck everyone out—you need to get a taxi home but you can’t even remember your own name, let alone where you live.
The Solar Ray partygoers were all stood around nearby, overwhelmed, I am sure, by the total annihilation of their place of work but in a far better state than me. I could hear them chatting with the sort of buzz people always get when they can safely witness a disaster, especially as total and dramatic a disaster as that. We didn’t have to worry about being cold either. That still-burning fire filled the street with warmth, the striking blue-green light illuminating everyone and everything so that they looked like freaky and flickery goblin versions of themselves.
To add to the atmosphere, fire engines soon showed up with flashing bright lights. Even the firemen seemed more like spacemen than rescue professionals, running about in their helmets and uniforms and carrying their equipment, though all I could actually see were oversized silhouettes against that weird burning background.
“Jesus, Dave, that was close,” said Bill after a time.
All I could manage was a nod.
“What’s with this backpack too? You should have just run. No need to pack a bag when there’s a fire alarm, you know.”
I shook my head, more to myself than for his benefit. The relief was already giving way to guilt.
“How do you feel, Dave?” said the doc. “You don’t look so good.”
She had appeared along with the rest of her family, all of whom surprised me with what appeared to be respectful and sympathetic looks, though I couldn’t be sure about Uncle Mike, since he stood back and looked more like a deformed ogre in that flickering light.
“I’ll live,” I croaked.
I took another sip of the bottle of water someone had kindly handed to me at some point, though I couldn’t remember how or when. I wanted to ask where Butter was, since I couldn’t see him, but I was so spaced out I couldn’t even manage to form the words.
“Does he look alright to you, mum?” I heard Daryl ask.
“I think he just needs to rest and recover,” said the doc. She looked at me. “You know, Dave, I have to say, that was amazing what you did.”
And she gave me this wonderful smile that only made me feel all the worse, knowing that I had been the cause of the whole bloody thing in the first place.
“What’s in the bag, Dave?” said Daryl.
“Leave him alone,” said the doc. “He probably just grabbed a few essentials.”
*****
Shortly, an ambulance showed up and several medics came over to check up on me.
“Are you okay, sir?” one of them said.
I looked up at him and nodded slowly.
“Can you walk?”
I nodded again, gladly letting them pull me up and walk me slowly to their ambulance, which was some way down the road, out of the way of the fire engines. I was pleased to see Butter already there, on a stretcher, though he didn’t look too great. His leg was wrapped in bloodied bandages, his face red and burnt, and he was wearing one of those breathing thingies over his mouth.
“How are you, Butter?” I whispered.
He looked at me but didn’t say anything. His eyes were alert though, and he raised his eyebrows at me. I assumed he meant “I’ve been better, Sonny Jim” or something along those lines.
They l
ifted his stretcher into the ambulance and a medic helped me climb inside with him. Then they sat me down on a seat in that cluttered and bright white space, Butter’s stretcher just in front of me.
“Elevated blood pressure, dehydration and a bit of a temperature,” said the medic after he did some checkups on me. “You should be okay in a day or so though. I’d like to keep you in overnight for observations, as a precaution.”
“Alright.”
“Good,” said the medic. “Lucky you’ve got that bag with you. You’re going to need some spare clothes.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, feeling my stomach churn. “Lucky, yeah.”
He now began strapping Butter down, securing the stretcher to the inside of the vehicle.
“Time to go, sir,” he said.
He fastened me with a seat belt and continued closing all the little drawers and thingies all around before stepping to the back to close the main doors.
“Wait!”
It was Daryl. He was stood outside, holding the back door open with a hand. Frank lurked behind him, frowning darkly.
“You can’t take that man.” Daryl pointed at me. “Under no circumstances must he be taken to hospital.”
“Why not?” said one the of medics. “He needs medical attention.”
“Yes, but there are things you don’t know about him. Please. I strongly advise you not to. My mother is here. She’s a practising GP. She can take care of him. Mum!” He turned. “Come here!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but he requires expert medical attention and facilities. No disrespect, but I’m not sure if your mother can provide that.”
“I understand, but as I said, there are things you’re not aware of. You won’t be able to accommodate him, and more to the point, he is a danger to your facility.”
The medic looked from me to Daryl and back again and laughed.
“Yeah, whatever,” he said, leaning forwards to pull the door shut. “Please, sir, if I may—”
“Dave.” Daryl held the door, looking at me now. “Tell them, please. You can’t go with them. Think about it.”
I had been thinking about it, and unfortunately he was right. For a few minutes, it had completely slipped my mind that I was a fire-peeing freak. Of course, at some point whilst at the hospital, I’d need to pee, and that wouldn’t work, would it? Been there, done that.
Moreover, it begged the question of where in the hell I would actually go now and what I would do. My escape had failed, my attempt to erase myself was in tatters, and now, what with being in that fire and being weak as jelly and everything, I struggled to think clearly about my immediate future. My original plan had been to disappear to the country, somewhere safe, away from people, and then figure it all out. But I could barely walk now. I felt about as active as a lump of coal. If I did go to hospital, I wasn’t even sure I could make it outside to take a leak. On the other hand, the Solar Ray facilities were obliterated. Where in the hell could I go?
“What is it, Daryl?” said the doc, who now appeared at his side.
“Mum,” he said. “Tell them. Tell them they can’t take Dave. We can put him up again, can’t we? Just until, you know, we get things sorted out here again.”
“Of course,” she said.
She looked at the medic. “I am a doctor and this is my patient.”
She turned to me. “Dave, you are most welcome.”
I looked from Daryl to the doc. Could I really go and stay there again after everything that had been said and done? Frank stood behind, saying nothing but obviously keeping a close watch on things. God knew what he was thinking.
“Look,” said the increasingly annoyed-looking medic, still holding the door, ready to close it as soon as Daryl let go. “None of this sounds like what’s best for the patient. We’ve got to get these gentlemen to the hospital, so if you don’t mind.”
“It’s okay,” I said with a croaky voice, undoing the belt, standing up. My legs were shaky, but I could just about manage it now. “He’s right. I can’t go with you.”
“Are you sure?” said the medic.
“Yeah,” I said, hobbling to the doors. “Let me out now. I’ll be alright.”
He looked at me, rather unconvinced.
“I’m not sure I can do that.”
“Please!” I stared at him, pleaded with him. “You have to let me go.”
Chapter 27
The doc held me by the arm, leading me to a table in front of the pub opposite what was left of the Solar Ray offices, the good old Hole in the Toad. Several of the tables had been commandeered by the evacuated partygoers. Many sat and stared across at the firemen who were shooting pointless jets of water into the unholy, ever-burning blue flames.
“Come along, Dave,” said the doc.
I took a seat where she directed.
I noticed that several flashing police cars had arrived and were parked across the road behind the fire engines. Police had gotten out and were putting up barriers. To one side, I saw Frank pacing up and down, talking animatedly on his mobile.
“Here you go,” she said, handing me a pint glass of water.
“Thanks.”
I took it gladly, drinking large gulps to moisten my still rough-as-stones throat. I felt myself starting to lose the numbness too. I had failed catastrophically and the guilt and shame for this were rising within me like the ringing of a siren.
Daryl came and stood with his mother.
“Jesus,” he said.
They both gazed in shock at the destroyed building.
“I can’t believe it.”
“You’ve got insurance, haven’t you, Daryl?” said the doc.
“Of course he has.” I heard his dad chime in from a table somewhere behind me.
“Yes,” said Daryl, biting a nail. “But that all depends on the police report, doesn’t it?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem, should it?” said his dad.
“I hope not,” said Daryl.
For a time, we all just stared at the brightly burning blue-green flames. I tried to think things through, even though I could barely muster the energy to. For what seemed like the umpteenth time, things had completely turned around and left me with all sorts of dilemmas. Was I really going to go with them? Should I tell anyone what had really happened in the basement?
“Will you come with us then, Dave?” said the doc. “You really should, I think—unless, of course, you have somewhere else to go.”
“Dave,” said Daryl. “I think you have to. Technically, we’re still responsible for you. And you know you’ll be well looked after at ours.”
Everything seemed so wrong, but what choice did I have?
Just then Frank approached.
“Hey, folks,” he said.
“Hi, Frank,” said Daryl.
“How are you all holding up?”
“Oh, we’ll be okay, I suppose,” said Daryl.
Frank nodded. He looked down at me.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Well, you were a real hero back there. That’s for sure.”
I nodded again. He sounded vaguely half-hearted and verging on sarcastic, but then again, that could have just been his weird manner or his American accent confusing me.
“Dave,” said the doc, slapping me gently on the arm. “What’s with you? It was amazing. You saved that man’s life. Don’t be so modest.”
Everyone was nodding, even Daryl.
Christ, the adulation was harder to take than the dissing.
“Daryl,” said Frank. “Can I have a word—”
Just then a very odd thing started happening that shut everyone up: a rumbling from below our feet. At first it seemed distant, yet it was noticeable enough to shake my chair and to rattle the almost empty pint of water as it sat on the table.
“What’s that?” said the doc.
“I don’t know,” said Daryl.
“Feels like a—”
Suddenly, the rumbling shifted
up a few gears, becoming a great shaking that caused many people to scream out in shock. My pint glass fell over and rolled off the table, smashing on the ground. Car alarms were triggered. The doc slipped and her husband caught her. Daryl and Frank were thrown to one side but managed to stay shakily on their feet.
Then there was this huge groaning sound from across the road, followed by sparks and more smoke and the screeching of metal. A large hole had somehow opened up in the still-shaking road. I saw one of the fire engines somehow sliding down into it, its rear end lifted up into the air. The extended ladder swayed dangerously, a fireman hanging high up at the very end, clasping for dear life.
“What the hell?” I heard Frank say.
The ground shook again, even more violently this time. I heard more glass smashing, more screaming. Several more vehicles parked on the road nearby were sliding into new holes that were opening in the ruined ground, making nasty metallic scratching and creaking sounds as they did so. Others lay on their sides with their windshields smashed. People were lying on the wrecked street, clutching at the ground, which had somehow come alive and was lifting them up like dolls—policemen, firemen, partygoers who hadn’t completely vacated the street.
There was a horrible, blood-curdling howl.
“Eeeeeuuuuuugggggaaaarrgghhhh!”
Flames started to lap the air through several of the chasms that had opened. Blue-green flames. I scanned for the source of the shrieking. When my eyes laid upon the woman, I at once felt sick. She had half her body on street level and was hanging manically onto the road with both hands while the rest of her was sinking underground. But the whole of her was caught in the flames. Her hair was lit up like she had been struck by some kind of demon spell, the flesh literally melting from her screaming, gurgling, disfigured face.
*****
I knew what was happening, of course—or sort of, anyway. My burning ultra-wee had burrowed deep down underground, perhaps burning through a gas pipe, perhaps an underground line, or perhaps reaching a seam of my urine that somehow hadn’t been disposed of properly. Perhaps all of those things. Whatever had happened, it was my fault. It was as though I had entered an alternate reality, a twisted nightmare. I stood up, calm as death, looking all around me at the unfolding carnage. The flames growing. Cars, fire engines, people burning. The screams, the terrible, terrible screams. The ground cracking and shaking. Yet I ignored it all, stepping calmly towards the road.
Curse of the Potency Page 24