The Bitter End

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The Bitter End Page 7

by James Loscombe


  He walked into the bedroom where he found Mary face down on the bed. It was dark and relatively cool. He walked over to the bed and put a hand on her shoulder, waking her as gently as he could but still making her jump.

  "What is it?" she said. "Are the boys okay?"

  She was on her feet and walking towards the door in a panic. "The boys are fine," he said. She turned back to him looking relieved. "Better than fine actually. They’re both asleep."

  "What is it then?" she said.

  He explained about his mum and the boiling water and told Mary that he was going to take her over to the Hospital so she needed to watch the boys. They left the bedroom together and found his mum standing in the kitchen looking at her hand.

  "My hand hurts Ben," she said.

  "I know mum," he said and took her by the other arm. "I'm going to take you to the hospital, come on."

  5

  The hospital was a gloomy place. It was newer than the Village Hall and the Market but it looked old and worn out. Something about the closeness of death and suffering seemed to wear the shine off. As he walked through the door, guiding his mum by her good hand, Ben thought he'd had entirely too many occasions to visit the place since it was built.

  The people who worked at the hospital didn't have a uniform so it was impossible for him to tell whether the people rushing around were nurses or patients. A young girl with dirty messy hair and red rings around her eyes approached them. She had blood down the front of her top.

  "Can I help?" she said. She spoke quickly as if she was running out of time.

  "Are you a nurse?" said Ben. He didn't like to admit it but she looked too young to be a nurse.

  "I'm a trainee," she said. "What's the problem?"

  He thought her bedside manner could do with some work but the air was filled with the sounds of dirty coughs and cries of pain. She was probably rushed off her feet. "My mum's burnt herself," he said.

  "Oh I'm alright," said his mum. She looked around the building as if she thought she might recognise it but wasn't quite sure. "It's just a little splash."

  "Is there a nurse I can talk to?" said Ben, trying his best not to sound rude. "Is nurse Mabik here?"

  "She's busy," said the girl. "If it's just a burn keep it in cold water."

  Ben wanted to tell her that it wasn't just a burn, that it wasn't just absent mindedness. He wanted to tell her that he was afraid his mum was losing her mind and he didn't know what to do about it. Sometimes she was okay and he could pretend there was nothing wrong (because what else could he do?) but those times were becoming less frequent.

  "Do you have any ointment," he said. "It's quite a bad burn."

  The girl looked at him as if she was deciding whether it would be quicker to get the ointment or argue him out of it and send him on his way. She sighed. "Wait here."

  She disappeared through the first door on the corridor they were facing and he turned to look at his mum. She looked quite vacant and he knew that she wouldn't be good for a conversation. She was cradling her burnt hand but her face gave no sign that it was hurting.

  A loud coughing and heavy footsteps from behind caused him to turn around. An old man supported by two young girls had come in. It took Ben a moment to realise that he recognised the man.

  "Frank?" he said.

  The old man looked up. He was as thin as a rumour, his skin hung from his naked face like damp tissue.

  Ben left his mother and went over to Frank, taking an arm from one of the girls that he recognised as his grand daughter. Up close he could see how pale the old man was and he looked as if he hadn't eaten a good meal in months.

  "Ben?" he said. His voice came out as a weak whistle, as if he had a hole in his throat.

  "What happened?" he said.

  Frank shook his head. "This damn cold, I can't shift it."

  A nurse, a real nurse this time, came running down the corridor and took Frank from his other grand daughter. "Can you help me get him to a bed?" she said to Ben.

  He looked at his mum and then turned to the grand daughters who were standing primly with their hands laced in front of them. They looked all of eleven but he knew they were closer to sixteen. "Can you stay with my mum?" he said. "I'll only be a minute"

  They nodded together and he was reminded of the way the twins sometimes mirrored each others movements.

  "Come on then," said the nurse.

  Together they lifted Frank on their shoulders and carried him along the corridor. Ben could see the black curtain at the end of it and remembered his last visit there, to see Cora. They turned off before they reached the curtain, the nurse kicked open the door, and carried him into a room.

  The air was moist with the heat and the coughs of the twenty men and women laying in the beds. There were no curtains to protect their identity. Ben saw that they were all old, some as old as Ben.

  "There's a bed at the end," said the nurse.

  "Is this all from the cold?" he said as they shuffled past the beds.

  "More like the flu," said the nurse. Ben could hear her straining under the weight of the old man. "It hits the old people hardest." She sighed. "There's nothing we can do except make sure they're getting plenty to drink and that they're comfortable."

  Together they lifted Frank into the bed. He seemed to weigh next to nothing. He was a shadow of the jolly fat man with his long white beard that Ben had once known.

  A coughing fit took hold of Frank and they helped him to sit up. To Ben it sounded like he was going to lose a lung. When it had passed they helped him back down and the nurse pulled the cover up to his chin. He had started to shiver.

  "Can you wait here with him a minute?" said the nurse.

  "I should get back to my mum," he said.

  "I'll just be a minute," she said and didn't wait for an answer. Ben watched her run down the corridor between the beds and then turned back to Frank.

  Frank had closed his eyes. Ben watched his chest rise and fall. His breathing sounded ragged and painful. Then suddenly his eyes popped open. "Is that you Ben?"

  "It's me Frank," he said.

  Frank smiled. "How's business?"

  It took him a moment to realise that Frank was asking how his old job was going. "I'm not doing that anymore Frank," he said. "I'm in the reconditioning business now."

  The smile faded but Ben could still see it just beneath the surface. "It's a shame. You were good at it."

  He had been good at it, he'd gone further than either his father or Frank himself. Even now the salvage teams stuck to a more limited radius as ordered by Nicholas. "I've got a family now Frank," he said. "I can't go wandering anymore."

  "It's a shame," said the old man but his eyes were closed and a moment later he was asleep.

  The nurse returned with a jug of water and a cup that Ben recognised from one of his own salvage trips. She smiled at him and he guessed that meant he was allowed to leave. He took one last look at the old man and then at all the old people who were suffering because there was only love and kindness to treat them with.

  He found his mum standing at the entrance. Frank's girls were where he had left them.

  "You can go through now," he said.

  They smiled at him and then disappeared down the corridor.

  "Has she come back with ointment?" he said.

  His mum turned to look at him and it seemed as if she didn't know him. "Who?"

  Ben was about to remind her when he looked down and saw a glass jar with a creamy paste inside it. "Come on mum, lets get you home."

  She nodded but looked at him warily. He led her out of the hospital and across the island to the jetty where he had left his boat. It took a few days for him to accept it but eventually he came to realise that he had made his decision to go to London that day in the hospital.

  6

  The three men in the boat were silent as two rowed and the third looked into the distance. He could hear the sound of children laughing and splashing in the water. The winter flu
had passed but it had left its mark; there were fewer old people in Sanctuary now. Old Frank hadn’t made it and neither had the Eisley sisters, among others. A lot of the children splashing around in the water would grow up without knowing their grandparents.

  The Island lay ahead. The frame of a new building stood bare and skeletal beside the market. It was an election year and Nicholas was busy fulfilling many of the promises he’d made four years ago and probably not thought about since. He had successfully held a referendum that meant, for the first time, a General could serve more than two terms. The people milling around the Village Hall were either registering to run against him or protesting about something.

  The boat reached the jetty and Ben jumped out. He wrapped the rope around a pole and tied it off. By the time he had finished Aaron and Anthony had joined him on the dock. Anthony held a scruffy leather folder.

  The deck was slippery beneath his feet and in places he had to step over cracked wood and rotten panels. The whole thing would need replacing eventually but, for now, they were just making repairs where they were needed and using the resources to build a pub.

  Ben led the way through the people who had gathered outside the Village Hall. He recognised some of them but didn't stop to say hello or find out what they were doing there.

  It was light and airy in the hall. A skylight had been installed and there was now a walled off section at the rear where Nicholas conducted his private business. Two men stood in front of the door.

  "The General is busy," said one. He looked ten years younger than Ben but he was about a foot taller and tough.

  "We've got an appointment," said Ben. Another new initiative, not so long ago there was no need to make appointments to see Nicholas.

  "Wait here," said the other man. He was smaller than the first but had a permanent expression of anger. It struck Ben how much things had changed recently, once upon a time he had known the name and face of everyone in the village but these two were completely new to him. They didn't appear to recognise him either.

  "What's your name?" said the little man.

  "Ben."

  The little man disappeared into Nicholas's office and the big man stood there watching them suspiciously. A moment later the little man returned.

  He nodded at them, "in you go."

  Anthony and Aaron followed Ben through the door into the small office. It smelled of tobacco and thick smoke hung in the air.

  "What can I do for you?" said Nicholas. He sounded tired and he looked old. His mouth hung down at the corners, he was starting to get jowls.

  Aaron opened the battered folder and placed it on top of the scattered papers on Nicholas's desk.

  "What's this?" he said.

  "It's a plan for a journey to London," said Ben.

  They watched in silence as Nicholas bent his head to the document and started to read. After a couple of minutes he began to shake his head.

  "Oh no. No, no," he said.

  Ben looked at Anthony and Aaron but they didn't seem to know what to say.

  "No this won't do at all," said Nicholas and looked up. "You can't really expect me to approve this."

  "Why not?" said Ben.

  "The resources, the man power." He closed the folder, he couldn't have read it all. "There's no way."

  "But what about the medicine?" said Ben.

  "The medicine that's twenty-years out of date?"

  Ben had not considered that. It had been twenty years since he'd encountered a sell by date. "The supplies then."

  Nicholas shook his head. "We've got supplies."

  "They won't last forever."

  "No but neither will anything you find in London. We need to focus on sustainability; farming and fishing. We can't continue living on the remains of the old world Ben."

  The words rung in his head even after they had left the Village hall; 'we can't continue living on the remains of the old world.' Even as they climbed onto the boat and pushed away, in silence, it was all he could think. The worst part of it was that Nicholas was right. Maybe London would keep them going for a while longer, maybe decades, but eventually it would run out and the longer they waited the harder it would be.

  It would be difficult for him to transition to a life of farming but at least he had seen a farm. There were people, now adults, living in the village who wouldn't be able to picture a farm and they certainly wouldn't be able to run one. If they continued to live off the old world until his generation was gone what would happen to those they left behind?

  No one spoke as the boat cut through the water. The splashes of the oars sounded monotonous, the laughs and screams of the children they could hear were painful. Ben tried to shrug it off, it just wasn't meant to be. He tried to ignore the fact that he was disappointed, that he had been looking forward to one last trip. That wasn't going to be his life. His life was here in the village and now it always would.

  1

  Kirsty Lorimer looked at her three friends and tried to bite back the sense of revulsion she felt. Margaret, Anne and Charlotte sneered at her, their faces masks of disdain.

  "You wouldn't dare," said Margaret.

  No, she wouldn't, if they wanted to know the truth. Never in a million years. If her father found out she was even considering it he would kill her.

  But her father wasn't there. He was at the pub where he was probably drinking himself silly on out of date scotch. She had the whole boat to herself which was why she'd thought it would be fun to invite her friends over. That and it was far less likely he would come home and beat on her if there were witnesses.

  "Kirsty's scared of vamps, Kirsty's scared of vamps," they sang together.

  "Obviously I'm not," she said but they carried on singing. Who was scared of vampires, maybe the grownups but maybe they just said that to keep them from wandering off.

  "If you're not scared why won't you go?" In the gloom of the boat she couldn't see who was talking, maybe Margaret again.

  "Because I can't," she said.

  "Because you're scared," said Margaret (she was sure it was Margaret now), there was more than a trace of nasty beneath her jokey tone.

  "No I'm not."

  "Why won't you go then?"

  She desperately tried to think of a reason not to go to the Back Field but nothing came to mind.

  "Told you she was chicken," said Margaret. She turned back to the other two girls. "Come on, lets leave the chicken alone. She probably only wanted us here because she's afraid of the dark."

  "I am not," said Kirsty.

  Margaret dismissed her with a "whatever," and started walking towards the door. Anne and Charlotte followed.

  "Wait," she said. "How would we even get there?"

  Margaret paused and then slowly turned around to face her. "We've got a boat haven't we?"

  "Yeah but, won't someone see us?"

  "If you're too scared..."

  She didn't know what came over her, later she would wonder if she had been tricked, somehow it felt like it. She didn't want to go to the Back Field, it was dark and cold outside and her father would be mad if he got home and she wasn't there. Although, he would be mad if he got back and she was there, though so she couldn't win on that score. The truth was she didn't want her friends to go, mean as they were she didn't want to be alone.

  Kirsty Lorimer pushed past the other girls and walked up the stairs. She opened the door and went out onto the deck. A summer wind coming off the water made her shiver but she didn't stop. If she stopped she would lose her nerve and she was determined not to give Margaret another excuse to laugh at her.

  She climbed down into the boat and waited. She hoped that the other girls had been bluffing and that they would back down now they saw she was prepared to go, but they didn't. One by one they climbed down into the boat with her and then Margaret untied them before climbing in herself.

  Kirsty and Charlotte rowed the boat across the village. There were lights on in some of the homes and she briefly considered screa
ming but she wasn't being kidnapped. She was going of her own free will and that made it seem even scarier. If something went wrong she would have no one to blame but herself. She could have let them call her chicken and leave but she hadn't.

  It had been more than a year since the woman had died on Back Field. Supposedly it was a vamp but Kirsty had heard the woman had killed herself because she was married to the General who used to beat her and that she hated him but couldn't tell anyone because he was the General. No one really believed that there had been a vamp on Back Field because where had they come from? Sanctuary was the only village in the area and vamps weren't known for wandering far from their own lands. It just didn't add up.

  Even if there weren't vamps on Back Field it was still a scary place. As they approached it seemed like a black hole, there were no lamps and a full moon hung low in the starry sky. Kirsty looked at the other girls but couldn't see their faces clearly enough to work out whether they were scared as well. She thought they might be but there was no way any of them would admit it.

  When the boat stopped Kirsty jumped up. She was determined to get this over with as soon as possible and the best way to do that, she decided, was to show them that she really wasn't scared. She stepped off the boat and onto the soggy mud beach.

  "There, are you happy?" she said turning around to face them.

  The three girls sat in the boat and looked at her. The moon threw her shadow over them so she couldn't see them clearly. "You're still scared," said Margaret.

  "You're the one sitting in the boat," she said.

  "But I'm not scared," she said.

  Kirsty wasn't so sure about that. "Why don't you come and join me then?"

  She thought Margaret might be shaking her head.

  Kirsty did not think about the weakness of her situation. She was standing on Back Field while Margaret and the other girls (probably scared) were in the boat and showing no signs of getting out. She did not consider what might happen if she pissed them off. "What's the matter?" she said. "Are you scared?"

  She heard the water crash against the side of the boat but it took her a moment to realise what was happening. "See you in the morning," said Margaret.

 

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