Trance

by Southward, Adam

  He walked along a concrete path made of square paving slabs cut into the mud. A dead rat appeared on one of the slabs, and he stepped over it. The rat was long gone, dried up and half-eaten. Alex shivered but kept walking until he reached the end, staring at a large brick porch and wooden door.

  The door stood open.

  He found himself in a corridor, following the voice. His eyelids drooped, his pupils dilated and the corridor stretched into the infinite distance. It was grey and smelled of bleach.

  He could hear shouts in his head, and clangs as metal-rimmed doors hit their metal frames. He drifted along the corridor, stopping at a metal gate. A woman to his right smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. He turned to look but she vanished into the fog.

  He was through the gate and it shut behind him. The woman was gone and in her place somebody else stomped along beside him. Heavy footsteps and a jingling of metal, perhaps a keychain. A muffled whisper in his ear followed by footsteps fading into the distance, leaving him alone, facing a single grey door. It looked like the door to a cell.

  The hairs on his neck rose as he reached out. The door was cold and smooth. It wouldn’t move. He struggled, pushing it with both hands, but it remained locked, and he didn’t know where the key was. He took his hands away and closed his eyes.

  ‘Wake up, Alex.’

  Alex opened his eyes and the dream ended. He was back in the real world.

  His surroundings sharpened into focus. Immediately, he was hit by the stench. The room he was in smelled revolting – the waft of vomit and excrement was overwhelming. The floor was broken, tiles scattered and bare concrete exposed. The walls weren’t much better. Some peeling paint remained but age had stripped everything else.

  His few days at the prison had conditioned him, but this place was worse. Light filtered through a dirty window, illuminating Victor, who sat between the legs of an upturned trolley, stiff and upright. His plump frame rose and fell with his breathing and he didn’t look at Alex. He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

  ‘You get used to it,’ said Victor, his voice barely a whisper. ‘But I won’t apologise. As I doubt you’ll apologise for smelling of perfume.’

  Alex paused and couldn’t help but sniff. He might have brushed against Sophie earlier; he detected the slight floral musky odour. Victor had a better nose than he did.

  ‘They often wore perfume,’ said Victor. ‘I suppose it made them feel like normal people, with lives and boyfriends and romance. Even while they were doing what they did.’

  Alex touched his nose, aware the stimulants had set his heart racing.

  ‘Dad!’ The voice tore through him and he yanked his head around. Behind and to the left, on an iron-framed bed, was Katie, bound at the wrists. She had pure terror in her eyes.

  He tried to stand but found his hands tied behind him, securely fastened to a metal shelving unit.

  ‘If you struggle, it’ll hurt,’ said Victor.

  ‘Please,’ said Alex. His head felt awash and his heart thumped. It hurt to breathe.

  ‘Let her go,’ he said. ‘Where’s Grace?’

  ‘Your father killed a lot of people.’ Victor sniffed and picked his nose, wiping his finger on his trousers.

  ‘I can’t answer for my father,’ hissed Alex. ‘Please, let—’

  ‘What is your relationship with your parents like?’ said Victor. ‘I mean, what was it like? Don’t you hate them for what they did to you?’

  Alex narrowed his eyes, checking his heart rate. Victor might be close to the truth, but now was not the time. Could Alex afford to play Victor’s games? Answer his questions? Could he afford not to?

  ‘We’re not talking about me,’ said Alex. He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice but failed.

  ‘But of course, you know I didn’t live with my parents.’ Victor sniffed again.

  ‘I know you suffered in the orphanage,’ said Alex. He saw the reaction he was looking for. Victor stiffened, his left fist clenching.

  ‘They mistreated you, Thirteen.’

  Victor closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘They created me, Dr Madison.’ He let it hang for a few moments.

  ‘They abused you, tortured you. Did despicable experiments on you and your friends. I get that,’ said Alex. ‘But what’s to be gained by involving my daughter? By dragging this out? Where’s Grace?’

  ‘Dragging it out?’ Victor’s manner switched. He bared his teeth. His voice lowered in tone. ‘I spent ten fucking years at Comăneşti. Dragging it out? I will drag it out as long as I fucking like, Dr Madison. That’s the point. You don’t know who is next. You don’t know what role you’ll be asked to play.’ He spat on the floor and wiped his mouth on the back of his palm.

  Alex looked again at Katie. Her eyes were wide with fear. She wept, her chest trembling and shaking with each breath.

  ‘Why now?’ said Alex. ‘This . . . whatever happened to you, it happened when you were a child. Why are you doing this now?’

  Victor glared at him.

  ‘I’ll tell you where they are,’ said Alex. The desperation caused his voice to slur. ‘I’ll find out from the police. They trust me. I’ll give them all to you in exchange for my daughter. You can keep me.’

  Victor turned on his heel. Alex saw him wince in pain, clenching his teeth. Alex thought he looked like a wounded animal. The most dangerous kind.

  ‘Begging,’ said Victor. ‘You’re begging me for your life?’

  ‘Not for mine,’ said Alex, his eyes welling up. ‘For hers.’

  Victor winced again. ‘Do you know how many times I begged?’ he said. He stood over Katie’s bed, looking down, not at her, but through her. ‘I begged until they made me bleed, until they knocked me to the floor, until I was drugged and unconscious.’

  He cocked his head and examined Katie’s face. ‘I begged while I watched a friend die in front of me. Do you know why?’ He paused but didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I begged because I didn’t believe people could be so evil. Not deep down. Not in their hearts. I thought if I cried hard enough or long enough it would stop.’

  Alex met Victor’s eyes. He saw them burning.

  ‘Who did I beg, Alex?’

  Alex shook his head.

  ‘Which makes this little party all the better, doesn’t it?’

  Alex’s eyes flicked to Katie. Through the fear she looked puzzled, her eyes questioning.

  ‘How long have you been part of this, Alex Madison?’ said Victor. ‘How long have you and your father hidden the torture and the lies? You know I came for him.’

  ‘I wasn’t part of it,’ said Alex, gasping. Victor was spiralling out of control and Alex knew he couldn’t pull him out of it. He couldn’t convince Victor of his own innocence – the man was in a fury, reason was out of the window.

  ‘Your father was a most evil man, as it turns out,’ said Victor. ‘And you know what they say – they don’t fall far from the tree.’ He turned to Katie again. ‘Which makes what I’m doing necessary. Do you see that? I can forgive you all, but you must pay.’

  ‘No!’ Alex shouted. Then, softer, ‘My father, yes. But not me, and not her. She is as innocent as you were.’

  Alex watched for the response, desperately seeking common ground. Victor believed he was an innocent, corrupted. To a great extent he was right. Alex needed to paint them all in the same way.

  ‘I saw you in the prison,’ said Victor. His face was pasty and full of pain. He shivered, as if bolts of electricity were hitting him. ‘And I saw you at your father’s house, right before I killed him. How can you protest your innocence? You’re one of them. Part of it. You came to continue what he started.’

  ‘You’re wrong.’ Alex regained some of his composure. ‘And you know my daughter is innocent. As innocent as all the children were back then. You know it, Victor.’

  Victor paused and Alex continued. ‘I’ll give you the location of the other doctors – my father’s colleagues. The ones who created this programme
and tortured you and your friends. I have no obligation towards them, Victor. I’ll give you their location and I’ll take my daughter in return. I swear I wasn’t part of this.’

  His eyes pleaded with Victor, but he saw no change in the fire behind Victor’s eyes. Alex had been right about him – there was no rationality there, not at the moment. The man was a whirlwind of hate, wrapped in his mutant ability. He was a damaged, tortured soul.

  ‘No,’ said Victor, finally. ‘Those despicable people are beyond reach now, but it doesn’t matter. You’re the ones I need. You and your daughter. You’re my redemption.’

  Alex gulped. ‘You’re wrong, Victor. I can help you. Let me help you.’

  Victor closed his eyes and shook his head. He reached out and touched Katie’s head, cradling her face in his hand. He looked sad. He fingered her hair, trailing strands between his fingers.

  ‘I forgive you, Dr Madison,’ he said. ‘It’s time.’

  The fog returned. It crept around the edges of Alex’s vision as he drifted away. The voice echoed in his head, friendly but insistent. It explored and burrowed, grasping parts of him and tying them together, dangling them out of reach.

  He was aware of his arms moving. His wrists were free and he held them up. His hands were missing, and in their place were two bottles of drugs. Brown glass with white plastic caps. Both said ALEX MADISON on the front and they rattled. He didn’t know what was in the bottles – he had no way of opening them. He shook his arms left to right and the bottles disappeared.

  The room dissolved and he walked. A long corridor with a bed at the end. There was somebody in it, facing away. The person called to him in a soft, feminine voice. He walked faster then ran, but the bed remained at the same distance away. He stopped and the figure turned over. It was Sophie.

  She smiled and pulled the sheet away to reveal her naked body. She writhed and beckoned to him with her finger. He smiled, but Sophie shook her head.

  ‘I’m sorry, Alex,’ said Sophie. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she wept. Alex blinked, and when he opened his eyes Sophie had gone.

  His mother lay in the bed. An old lady, frail and weak. She opened her eyes and spoke to him.

  ‘Alex,’ she said. He leaned in closer. ‘Please don’t do this.’

  Alex recoiled. His mother hissed and slid under the covers. Alex pulled them away but the bed slid away into the fog.

  He could still hear the voice, but muffled, in the distance. It was high, firm but scared. He couldn’t make out the words.

  His unease deepened as the fog gave way to darkness. His heart thumped and tendrils of panic snaked at the edges. Something was wrong and he shuddered.

  A silhouette appeared, several feet away. He couldn’t make out her face, but she had long, flowing hair. She backed away from him and he followed. Her hands came up in defence and she tripped, falling backwards. Alex rushed forwards and she screamed. He paused, but didn’t stop. His hands appeared in front of him, covered in blood. He held them to his eyes and saw the dark liquid seep through his fingers.

  The woman screamed again. A third time. She was pleading, begging.

  Alex felt a slam at the back of his skull. A noise, as loud as an explosion; pressure popping his ears. Then a familiar voice, shouting at him. The fog cleared, seeping downwards, bright light flooding the area above.

  He gasped.

  His trance was broken. He was back in the room with Victor and Katie. How or why, he didn’t know, but he was hovering over Katie, who lay on the bed, her eyes streaming with tears. She was screaming and pleading, repeating the word ‘Dad’ over and over. He glanced at his hands. The right one held a kitchen knife. With horror he twisted the knife around in his hand and looked back to Katie. Hurling the knife to the floor he staggered back, trying to make sense of the situation. His body was still resistant, still partly under. He couldn’t move his feet properly; it was like wading through deep water.

  Victor remained in the corner, his face masked with menace and confusion. He glanced around the room, eyes darting into the corners and to the ceiling.

  Alex struggled. Katie’s screams echoed in his ears.

  Victor hissed. ‘How did you do that? How did you break it?’

  Katie’s sobs subsided. Alex turned to her but had no words to explain what had happened. Katie was shaking and hyperventilating, staring at Alex in fear. He couldn’t keep her gaze. His world was caving in, shattered by the man who was leaning against the far wall, holding his own head.

  Victor looked to be in excruciating pain. He banged his head backwards into the wall and bent double. He gasped and groaned, holding his temples. He panted for several moments before staggering over to a bucket in the corner. He vomited, retching violently before stumbling to his knees. After several moments he raised his head.

  Alex’s eyes were bleary with tears. Victor’s eyes were pained and full of hate.

  ‘You,’ said Victor. ‘You are forgiven. Both of you.’

  Alex tried to move – his arms, legs, anything – but he was still under Victor’s spell.

  Victor approached him, trying to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He stuttered and turned to the window. His eyes narrowed and Alex saw uncertainty in the man’s face.

  Puzzled, he followed Victor’s gaze. Through the grimy cracked window he saw a man – short, dark-haired and wild. His crooked head was tilted, and his eyes were focused on Victor. He was muttering under his breath, the whispers seeping through the broken glass.

  For the first time, Victor looked scared.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Natalia and Freak were still waiting in their huddle behind the bush. They had watched Alex arrive at the front of the orphanage, ditching his car in the middle of the road.

  ‘This makes things more complicated,’ said Freak, picking his ear and examining his forefinger.

  Natalia nodded. Natalia wondered how many of the people in that building would die today. Perhaps all of them. Perhaps her. Not the little girl, she hoped. Not an innocent.

  Natalia felt the familiar anxiety wash over her. Her time at the prison had been uncomfortable but manageable. Dr Madison, though, had been a factor she hadn’t predicted. Alex could have been useful. That was her plan. It was always the plan. But faking it for so long confused her. It gave her glimpses of a normal existence, with people who also experienced terrible things and still managed to live. She felt attracted to the man, who treated her as an equal – so unlike her experience of men before. Against her better judgement she’d followed that attraction and found herself falling, experiencing emotions that were forbidden, punishable in the harshest way.

  Alex had been a mistake, professionally, but one she’d always remember, long after she left this place or departed this world, whichever came sooner. She’d been honest with Alex at the time, on that matter at least. She didn’t regret it.

  Natalia watched Alex now for several moments, sitting in his car outside the orphanage walls, talking into his phone.

  ‘He’s under,’ said Freak, his eyes darting around. ‘Thirteen must be close.’

  Natalia frowned.

  ‘He’s going in,’ said Freak.

  ‘We need to get closer,’ said Natalia, as Alex disappeared behind the front wall, ‘so you can do what you do.’

  Freak sucked in a breath. ‘Now?’ he said. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Now.’ Natalia caught his eye and tried to look confident.

  Freak straightened up. She saw the fear in his eyes but also the determination.

  ‘I will try,’ he said, then stood and strode towards the orphanage.

  Treading across the broken concrete, they both avoided the rubbish and crumbling stone, creeping along the side of the huge brick monstrosity, avoiding the section where Alex Madison had entered, instead heading towards the rear of the building where Freak had spotted Victor earlier.

  They stopped in a walled courtyard with a rusty swing-set at the centre. The actual swings were long gon
e. Broken tarmac suggested other playground equipment had once adorned this place, no doubt providing some distraction for the children who lived here. Natalia looked wistfully at the swing. She never got to play as a child. She was always late with her chores or punished and made to do extra. Her dormitory supervisor had at least spared her the alternative, perhaps because she was plump as a child, clumsy and unattractive. She took the chores and was thankful.

  ‘Where are they?’ she hissed.

  Freak cocked his head. He shrugged and moved closer to the building, stopping every few steps and listening.

  ‘Well?’

  Freak put his hand up to silence her. ‘He put the girl somewhere around here. Ground floor. If you keep talking I’ll never find him.’

  Natalia bit her tongue and crouched next to a pile of bricks. She knew she was on the verge of panic. They were out of time. Thirteen’s murderous rampage was unique among the targets they’d acquired over the years, and only caution would keep them alive. She watched Freak searching along the outer wall, peering in through the cracked and splintered windows, searching for their prey. He paused to listen, ear against the crumbling bricks, pacing to the next window. Underneath one he froze, ducking down. He pointed upwards, keeping his head below the sill, tilting his head to listen.

  He looked over to Natalia, eyes wide, finger to his lips.

  Natalia crept over, careful with her feet not to snag any twigs or trip on the broken concrete. She approached the window and risked a look inside, peering in from the bottom right corner. It was broken, a jagged triangle of glass missing. She took in the situation and swore several times.

  ‘Shit,’ she said, under her breath. Natalia closed her eyes for several seconds. When she opened them, she had determination in her eyes.

  ‘Background noise,’ she whispered to Freak. ‘As strong as possible. Can you do it?’

  Freak raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Can you?’

  Freak nodded. ‘But . . . what about Thirteen?’

  ‘You have to.’

  ‘He might not be good for anything afterwards.’