The Bubble Boy

by Stewart Foster

  Wait. We can’t go there.

  Amir flicks the indicator.

  ‘Amir, what are you doing? We can’t go on a plane!’

  Amir puts his finger up to his lips. ‘Just wait,’ he says.

  ‘But I can’t . . . we can’t!’

  ‘Trust me.’

  I sit back in my seat. Amir says to trust him. It’s too late not to, now.

  We take the turning off the motorway and pass thousands of cars parked behind fences. The car slows down. Amir leans forward like he’s looking for a gap. ‘It just here,’ he says. ‘Just . . . here.’

  He turns the steering wheel quickly and we go down a dark track. The lights turn off and the car crawls on even though I can’t see anything. But Amir seems to know exactly where he’s going. He doesn’t need a sat-nav or a map or even headlights. It’s like he knows every bump in the road. I think of the stowaway boy in the plane wheel who cut a hole in the perimeter fence. Is that what we’re going to do? I won’t be able to run across the tarmac with my oxygen bottle. My legs will have turned to jelly by the time I get there.

  I turn around and look on the back seat for fence-cutters, but all I see is a children’s car seat and empty coke bottles.

  The car starts to slow, then stops.

  In front of us is a big wire fence that stretches as wide as I can see. There’s a ditch in front of it and barbed wire across the top. Amir takes the keys out of the ignition. ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘We get out now.’

  I check the back seat again.

  ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘Wire-cutters?’

  ‘Ha. Why I need wire-cutters?’

  ‘To cut the fence?’

  ‘That illegal. I don’t do anything illegal.’ He opens the car door, walks around and opens mine. I don’t say that I think taking me out of the hospital might be illegal.

  ‘You coming?’

  I pass him the oxygen bottle.

  After being in the car for so long it’s like I have to get ready for going outside all over again. I swing my legs out onto the ground. My legs wobble as little stones crunch under my boots. I take a step and they do it again. It’s like I’m a child trying to walk for the first time. Amir takes hold of my arm. We walk in front of the car and sit down on the bonnet. Our breath pools out into the cold air like we’re smoking a cigarette. I feel the warmth of the engine through my suit. I’m not cold but I still shiver and wrap my arms around myself. I wonder if Spider-Man ever felt this cold, like if he ever got caught out in a New York snowstorm. I wonder if he ever found a place like this, in the middle of nowhere, where all you can see is the dark and all you can hear is the hiss of air.

  Amir points at the sky.

  I look up. I gasp, and my chest seems to fill with more oxygen than it’s ever held.

  Above me, the sky is dark and wide and so full of stars. I turn my head. More stars. Hundreds of them. The longer I look, the more I see. I didn’t know the sky was like that. I’ve never seen it without a window frame. I bite my lip and close my eyes. I’m scared might be dreaming. That when I open my eyes it will be gone and I’ll be staring at my ceiling.

  I open them again. The sky is still there and the stars are still there and now the moon is shining on me. It’s so bright and big. On my screens it just looks like a dot. I glance at Amir. He smiles, then looks back at the sky. I want to smile back, but I want to cry too.

  Amir holds up his hand and squints like he’s aiming a gun. ‘You can’t touch it,’ he says ‘but you can block it out with your finger.’

  ‘I don’t think I want to,’ I say. ‘I want it to stay there for ever.’

  Amir takes his hand down. ‘Ha,’ he says. ‘I think you right . . . Do you like it?’

  ‘It’s so great,’ I say. ‘Way better than TV. I can’t wait to talk to Henry. I hope he gets to see it too. I hope he doesn’t spend all of his time in the mall.’

  ‘Me too.’

  I hear a click, then the hiss of more air coming into my helmet. Amir looks at his phone, then shows me the reading. ‘94.4%.’

  ‘It’s dropping. Do we have to go?’

  He checks the other readings.

  Outside temp.: 10C

  Body temp.: 37.2C

  Heart rate: 116

  Air remaining: 8 litres

  Amir nods his head slowly. ‘We okay. You no want to go back, do you?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Good,’ he says ‘I no bring you here just to show you the stars.’

  He slides down off the bonnet and helps me back into the car.

  The clock says 04:45. I’ve been out for nearly two hours. Amir starts the car and it bumps as it crawls along between two fences. There are huge storage containers piled one upon the other either side of us that stretch for ever like we’re in a tunnel. A red light flashes at the end. We drive towards it. The light gets brighter . . . now there are four of them with another eight white lights flashing either side.

  Amir smiles as we reach the end of the containers and drive out into an open field. He points out of the windscreen. ‘Look at them,’ he says. ‘They been flying for over a hundred years and still they use wings! Don’t they know it quicker to fly in saucers?’

  We get out of the car and look across the grass towards an airport runway. A bright light shines from the control tower and a radar spins quickly on top. We walk closer. The red and white lights flash from the wings of planes. It’s like there are hundreds of them. Plane after plane. Some of them are moving, some are parked in front of the terminal and some look like they’re asleep, abandoned in the middle of nowhere – British Airways, American Airlines, Air New Zealand, Virgin Atlantic – with orange lights flashing on top of trucks that weave in between them with cargo and fuel. Through my helmet I can hear the beeps of trucks reversing and the rush of engine turbines turning. I’ve watched the planes in the sky every day from my window. I’ve seen them on TV too, but it’s nothing like this. Being locked in a room is like being deaf and blind.

  Amir points at a plane being pushed by a truck.

  ‘Engines and wings,’ he tuts. ‘Engines and wings. The aliens laugh at us. Can you hear them?’ He cups his hand up to his ear. ‘Can you? They laugh at our TV, they laugh at our cars and they laugh at the way we are born and die. They laugh at our planes too. But they like them.’

  Amir’s gone crazy again. It scares me when he talks about aliens. It’s like he changes into another person. It’s like there’s two of him. I trust them both, it’s just that I trust one more than the other.

  He grabs hold of my oxygen trolley. ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Let’s get closer.’

  We wheel the trolley behind us and stop by the fence. Amir puts his fingers through the wire. His eyes are open wide and shining.

  ‘Vasi,’ he whispers.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Vasi – red and white lights, visible for 3.5 miles in the day and 20 miles at night. Ha!’

  ‘What’s funny?’

  ‘We are. Aliens don’t need lights. They can see us all the time.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ I look up at the sky and search for aliens.

  ‘Of course,’ says Amir. ‘For them it’s like watching TV. We are their TV!’

  I shake my head. ‘Amir?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you sure there are aliens?’

  He looks at me like I’m mad. ‘I sure?’

  ‘Some people think that people who believe in aliens are crazy.’

  ‘Crazy?’ Amir opens his eyes wide. ‘No, not crazy. Maybe it’s just easier for people to believe lies than to believe the truth.’

  It still doesn’t make sense to me. I go to tell Amir but he’s staring through the fence.

  A red light flashes on a plane in the distance – growing bigger and brighter as it gets closer towards me. The ground begins to tremble as the engines rumble through my feet. Amir grips the fence tight. His hair is blowing in his eyes. He shouts something but I can’t hear him
above the roar of the wind. I shake my head. He leans towards me and shouts again.

  ‘You hang on tight or you might get blown away.’ Amir’s coat flaps and hits against my knees.

  I reach out and grip the wire. The plane is gaining speed. Faster and faster. I want to run. I want to fall down on the ground and curl up in a ball.

  Hold on. Hold on tight.

  The nose of the plane lifts up. Its back wheels lift off the ground and it flies above us, soaring in slow motion.

  ‘Amir! Amir! I’m going to fall over.’

  Amir lets go of the fence with one arm and puts it around my shoulders. The fence starts to shake, the wire cuts through my gloves so I can feel it on my hands. I let go quickly and hold on to Amir. I gasp for breath. The plane is right above us. White light. Red light. White light. Red light – with a noise louder than thunder. Its body is big and heavy and its wings are as wide as the sky. If I could let go of Amir I could reach out and touch it. I’d pull myself up and climb into the wheel hold. I could survive with my special suit and my oxygen. I turn my head. The engines are so loud they rumble through my bones. The plane moves away and starts to climb higher and higher. Amir’s head knocks against my helmet. He grins so wide it splits his face in half.

  I can’t believe this is happening.

  ‘Amir,’ I shout. ‘This is amazing!’

  ‘I tell you,’ he says. ‘I tell you!’

  The plane soars over the city and the wind dies away. There’s something thudding through my body. I let go of the fence.

  Amir looks at me. ‘Joe, what’s wrong?’

  I shake my head and put my hands on my chest. ‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘I’m okay. It’s only my heart.’

  ‘Ha! Mine too!’

  We watch the tail light of the plane blink, blink, blink, until it disappears into the distance.

  Everything is bigger, brighter, and louder than I ever thought it would be. A tear trickles down my cheek. Amir bends down in front of me. His mouth is wide open and his hair is stuck up like a troll doll.

  ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘It supposed to make you happy, not cry.’

  ‘I am happy,’ I reach up to wipe my tear away. My hand bumps against my helmet. The visor steams up and everything goes blurry.

  Amir increases the air flow. ‘That better?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Amir looks at me like he’s waiting for me to say something but I can’t. He told me I shouldn’t cry but his eyes are watering too. I love being outside, I love watching the planes, but I wish I could breathe the air and hear everything properly. I wish I could take my helmet off. Amir puts his hand on my shoulder.

  ‘What you thinking?’ he asks.

  I shrug. I don’t know if I should tell him or not. I feel bad for thinking it. I should be grateful for what we’ve done.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Amir, can I take my helmet off?’

  He looks across at the planes, then up at the sky.

  ‘Can I? Please. Just for one second.’

  He shakes his head slowly. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘We can’t do that. It too risky.’

  But one second wouldn’t hurt me . . . would it? Just one real breath.

  Amir walks towards the car.

  I could do it now. I could take off my gloves, undo the straps and take it off. Amir would have to be an Olympic runner to run back and stop me. Just one second, that’s all I want. I look down at my gloves and pull at the fingers.

  ‘Joe, I say no.’

  I want to do it. I want to breathe air that hasn’t been filtered through tubes. I pull at another finger and glance at Amir. He’s stood in front of the car. Tiny bugs and moths buzz around the car headlights. Hundreds of them zing around in the air, knock into each other and bash against the glass.

  Amir walks over to me and puts his arm around my shoulders.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say.

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘Just one breath.’

  ‘I know, but if you take one breath you want another and then you want ten.’

  He links his arm through mine and he walks me towards the car.

  I stop and look back at the airfield. The planes move slowly across the tarmac like they’re dancing to music. Out of the corner of my eye I see Amir look at his watch.

  ‘Do we have to go now?’

  Amir checks his watch again, then the figures on his phone.

  Air temp.: 9 degrees

  Body temp.: 37.2C

  Heart rate: 119

  Air remaining: 5 litres.

  He bites his lip. ‘The time is really going fast, but I really want you to see something. How you feeling? Your heart rate quite high.’

  ‘I’m excited,’ I say. ‘I feel a bit tired, that’s all.’

  He opens the car door. ‘You just sit here then and save energy.’ He checks the readings again. ‘But I think we’ve enough air. And we have time.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For greatest show on earth.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You’ll find out. But first you rest a while. I wake you up.’

  I wonder what Amir has got planned. What could be greater than having a massive plane fly over my head?

  Amir closes the car door. ‘We just sit and wait,’ he says.

  I rest back against the seat and close my eyes. But I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to go home. Lots of people would think it funny to call a hospital my home but that’s what it is. That’s what it will always be if the doctors never find a cure. Henry is right. We have to keep living, we have to keep hoping. It might be fun Skyping each other but we don’t want to sit in our rooms for the rest of our lives.

  Amir turns on the radio. I hear music quietly playing. A piano and a guitar. A man sings a song about losing his heart in San Francisco. Amir stares though the windscreen, nodding slowly like the song is playing in his head. The clock ticks on . . .

  05:59.

  06:00.

  06:01.

  The music stops. I hear the sound of birds tweeting. I look around but I can’t see any birds. All I can see is the dark but it’s not as dark as it was before. Is this what I’m here for – to hear the birds? I wait for Amir to tell me he’s ready but all he does is take a deep breath, then starts nodding to a new song.

  06:02.

  06:03.

  06:04.

  There’s nothing happening. What are we waiting for? Maybe this is when the aliens come. They’ll fly across the sky and land in the field in front of us. That’s what happens. I saw it when I watched an old film with Beth – Close Encounters of the Third Kind. The aliens landed in a place just like this with no one around for miles. They said they were friendly and didn’t want to hurt anybody, but at the end a man goes into the spaceship and they take him away. If they landed here, they would take me and Amir away too. We’d walk up the gangplank like that man did and the doors would slide closed. The doctors and nurses and the police would come looking for us but the spaceship would be gone. All they would find is the car and the scorch marks on the grass.

  The clock moves on –

  06:11.

  06:12.

  06:13.

  Amir put his hand on my arm. My heart stops.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I no mean to make you jump.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  He nods out of the windscreen. ‘It’s started.’

  ‘What has?’

  ‘Just watch.’

  I look out across the airfield. The lights on the trucks and planes are fading. I look at the grass, the tarmac and the sky. Everything that was black has now turned to grey. There’s a white line on the horizon – a bright white line. I stare at it. It gets deeper and wider and stretches as far as I can see.

  I lean forwards.

  ‘Didn’t want you to miss it,’ Amir whispers. ‘The greatest show on earth.’ He smiles and I see two crescents in his glasses. I look back across the airfield and see the tip of the sun at the en
d of the runway.

  The sky turns red.

  The sky turns orange.

  The sun sits on the tarmac like a big burning ball.

  A real sunrise.

  I wish Henry was here to see this. I can’t wait to tell him about it – that’s if I can stop him talking about the mall. I wish Beth was here too, and Greg. I wish we could all sit here and watch the sun come out of the earth and the sky turn blue. The sun never shines through my window. I only see it shine outside on the street.

  I look at Amir in disbelief. My heart rate is 124.

  ‘Okay?’

  ‘Amir, it’s better than okay. It’s brilliant! Thank you.’

  ‘It okay, maybe we do it again one day.’

  ‘Can we really?’

  ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Maybe the aliens turn up next time!’

  I smile but suddenly I feel so tired that I could go to sleep and not wake up for weeks. My head falls back against the seat and I feel the warmth of the sun’s rays on my face. I take a deep breath, then another.

  Amir starts the car and we go back down the track, between the containers and over the bumps. We turn left onto the main road and go back past Heathrow and onto the motorway. There’s hundreds of cars and trucks all around us, slowing us down.

  ‘It’s okay, I calculate it – the traffic.’ He reaches out and turns the radio on. I rest my head against the window and try to relax as a black taxi goes by. It’s been the best time of my life and I don’t want it to end. But even if I had a tanker full of air I’m too tired to stay out any longer. My eyelids grow heavy – Mercedes-Benz, GlaxoSmithKline, Lucozade, E = Mc2 – the sun shines on my face and the cars and buildings start to blur. I take a deep breath and my head begins to drop.