by Alec Birri
She stared into the distance.
The lady seemed to be drawing knowledge from something that was out there. Dan envied her that.
‘London, I think.’
Dan slumped back in the chair. He had believed there might be the chance of ground casualties, but crashing an aircraft into the middle of a city made that all but inevitable. The death toll could have run into thousands. He put his head into his hands as he tried to comprehend that. Guilt was becoming his main emotion. Maybe that was the reason why he’d stopped taking the drug – he felt responsible for everyone’s suffering and wanted to end it all? He felt for the pill to make sure it was still there.
‘Look – there’s another ambulance.’
She was still staring into the distance and Dan followed her gaze – to a television set. It appeared to be tuned to a hospital-themed drama.
Tracy appeared. ‘Shall I turn the volume up on the telly a bit?’
Dan shook his head. He looked around the room. Other than Gary, every single person was either asleep, talking to themselves, or otherwise engaged in an activity that made it clear they weren’t themselves – they all appeared mentally ill in some way. Surely not every crash survivor had a brain injury as well as breaks and burns? Dan’s morale slumped as he realised he might have to look elsewhere if he was to get to the bottom of the crash.
‘Just take me back to my room please, Tracy.’
She brought the wheelchair over and helped him into it. They were about to leave when Dan spotted Alice at the exit. He asked Tracy to stop by her. Seeing Alice again, he realised there must have been at least some ground casualties, as military aircraft rarely allowed families on board. The thought that he could be responsible for her mother’s death made him desperate to make amends in some way.
She was again wearing the all-encompassing cerise dressing gown with the doll still as close as she could get it. Her head was down as before, but this time Dan could just make out the tip of a nose and the slit of a mouth – both horribly burnt. As usual, he was lost for words, but felt it only right to show his compassion by putting a hand on hers. The grotesque appearance of both meant he had to force himself to do it. She placed her other hand, or rather what was left of it, on top of his, making him uneasy.
‘Mummy came back today. She wants to thank you.’
Dread descended on Dan. Alice pulled his hand closer to her and he had to make a conscious effort not to snatch it away. She looked up at him and smiled.
‘Thank you for caring, Dan.’
The smile distorted what remained of her features – like a living corpse from a horror movie. Dan knew who the real monster was. She dropped her head again and to Dan’s relief, let go. Tracy assumed the conversation was now over and wheeled him back into the corridor.
‘Well, I think you have a secret admirer there. I might be jealous!’
‘Don’t joke about such a thing, Tracy. It doesn’t become you.’ They continued in silence.
Although Dan felt deflated over his lack of success with the survivors, he was content for the consistency of their injuries to confirm his discovery, especially as Gary was prepared to talk about the crash. Once Dan had resumed his medication, of course. That damn pill, he thought. Messing with my and everybody else’s minds. He pondered that before raising the back of his hand.
Tracy stopped. ‘Yes, your Lordship?’
‘I’m not in an ordinary ward, am I?’
She turned to face him. ‘What makes you say that?’
Dan presented his evidence. ‘I have a brain injury and Alice clearly has a similar issue. The lady I spoke to thought a drama on the television was real and Gary said: “Everybody here suffers from one or more serious psychological illnesses.”’ He looked up at her. ‘Is this a neurological ward?’
Tracy raised her eyebrows, as if impressed by his sleuth-like deduction. She went back to pushing him. ‘Not just a ward; the whole hospital specialises in neurology.’
They reached the door to his room, to be greeted by smiles from Claire and Tony walking towards them. Claire was ahead, and the first thing Dan noticed was Tony dropping his hand from the small of her back. He tried not to read anything into it.
‘Wonderful to see you up and about, Dan.’ Claire leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. She seemed to ignore his lips.
She used to call me ‘darling’ too, he thought.
‘We’ll take it from here thanks, Tracy.’
Tony took Tracy’s place, while she held the door open for them all to enter. Claire went straight into mother mode.
‘Look what we’ve brought for you!’ she enthused.
The contents of a carrier bag were emptied onto the bed. There were chocolates, sweets, fruit, socks, underwear, and all the other paraphernalia needed for long-term involuntary incarceration. Some items remained in the bag, which Claire asked Tony to deal with for some reason. He reached in and pulled out a large analogue clock. They both regarded Dan with enthusiasm.
‘You lied to me.’ The tone of Dan’s voice made them drop their smiles. ‘You said it would be the biggest clock I had ever seen.’
Tony laughed and Claire burst into tears of relief.
‘You remembered! That’s fantastic news!’
Both Tony and Claire embraced him.
‘Steady on, you two. I am ill, you know.’ Dan had parked his misgivings about them.
‘You don’t understand,’ Claire said. ‘That’s the first time I’ve seen you remember anything new in months!’
In that context, Dan appreciated his progress must seem like a miracle, so he put up with the aches and pains her hugs were causing him.
‘And that’s not all!’ Tony said.
He picked up a remote control and a screen in the corner of the room burst into life with the unmistakable footage of two football teams being led out onto a pitch.
Dan recalled the match like it was yesterday. ‘The World Cup final. England beat West Germany four–two after extra time – Geoff Hurst scored a hat-trick.’
Claire and Tony burst into yet more cheers and tears, before jumping up and down and hugging each other this time.
‘This calls for a celebration!’ Tony reached into the bag again and retrieved the last few items – a bottle of champagne and three glasses. ‘I’ve been hanging on to these ever since you were first admitted.’
He popped the cork and began pouring. Claire passed Dan the first glass. The sight of his injured hand being magnified by the liquid through the glass refocussed the elephant in the room of full recovery. He was about to take a sip when the door opened.
‘No alcohol, I’m afraid.’
‘Come on, Doc,’ Tony interjected. ‘Surely he’s allowed one sip?’
‘One drop of alcohol is enough to put back months of progress. I’m sorry.’
Adams was right of course, but he sure knew how to kill a moment. Dan wondered what or who else he might have killed – or bored to death.
‘But he remembers things.’ It was Claire’s turn to try and speed up her husband’s return to normality.
‘Sorry, nothing we’re not expecting. I’m afraid we must allow the treatment to continue.’ He turned to his patient. ‘Assuming Dan’s now ready to restart it?’
Dan passed a suspicious eye over the three of them. ‘I want to get a few things straight first.’
All three looked back at him with keen anticipation.
‘I think I crashed an aircraft six months ago. Did that actually happen?’
They nodded in unison.
‘I think there were passengers on my aircraft. Was that true?’
All three nodded again.
‘I think at least some of those passengers are here with me on this ward. Is that true?’
And again.
Claire and Tony responded positively, but Adams didn’t.
Dan became agitated. ‘This is just nonsense. What sort of “treatment” involves your wife and closest friend deliberately lying to you? I expect to receive the odd white lie from doctors, but family? Why are you doing this?’ Claire and Tony hung their heads.
Adams interjected.
‘It’s not their fault, Dan. Your treatment requires your memories to be recovered by your own initiative, with uncontrolled accidental or deliberate attempts to influence your thinking avoided wherever possible. That’s why the questions I ask you are nearly always open-ended. Understand?’
‘Well, what about the stunt you pulled at the barbecue?’
‘That was designed to recover a particular memory. If I thought putting you in a burning aircraft wouldn’t kill you, I would do the same at the crash site.’
Dan didn’t know what to think. Up until now he’d felt he was making steady progress, but with nothing to confirm whether his thoughts were real or imaginary, how could he be sure? How could he be sure of anything? Names? Dates? Times? When he was dreaming? When he was awake? Was he eating when he thought he was? Was he thinking now or talking aloud? And what about his emotions? Did he dislike Tracy, but like Doctor Adams? Do they even exist? Does any of this exist? Maybe everything was a hallucination, like Brian.
Dan took a deep breath. ‘I know my hallucination of Brian is not real. So, I’m going to assume that because I’ve never thought the same of you or anybody else, then this hospital must actually exist and my situation must, therefore, be real.’
Claire and Tony appealed to the doctor who knelt down to Dan’s level.
‘Dan, you have made more progress in the past twenty-four hours than in the whole of the last six months. Your brain is finally coming to terms with reality but under constant stress.’ He pointed to Dan’s pocket. ‘The red pill will fix that.’
Dan remained silent while trying to make sense of it all. He eventually spoke. ‘You’ve all admitted lying to me. I need time to think about that – please leave.’ He glared at Claire and Tony. ‘All of you.’
Claire started to cry. Tony put his arm around her and Adams motioned for them all to go. Claire turned back to Dan as they walked out of the door.
‘Everything we’ve done, and are doing, is for you, Dan. Please understand that.’ She was still sobbing as they left.
‘Well, that could have gone better.’
‘Fuck off, Brian.’
‘And I thought I was supposed to be the vulgar one.’
‘I said: fuck off.’
‘Okay, okay, but you might want to take a look out of the window before they leave.’
Dan looked up to find Brian gone.
He made his way to the window, holding on to the sink for support. From his bed, he could only see the sky and tops of trees, but he now had a view of the ground below and the visitor car park opposite. He soon saw the familiar shapes of Claire and Tony making their way towards it.
His wife was leaning on Tony for support and, even though Dan hated it, she needed that right now. He made a decision. Whatever the rights or wrongs of the situation, he had to get better for her – for her and Lucy, and right now.
Dan placed a beaker under the cold tap and half-filled it with water. He watched as Tony and Claire stopped at the entrance to the car park and turn to face each other. Dan took the red pill out of his pocket and placed it on his tongue. He raised the cup to his lips just as Tony raised Claire’s lips to his.
Chapter Five
‘I’m really sorry, Dan.’
‘What’s it all about, Brian?’ Dan continued to stare out of the window even though Claire and Tony had long since departed. ‘What’s the point of being born, growing up, having a life, getting married and starting a family, just for one single event to end it all?’
Brian looked at him.
‘I mean, I could understand if it took another thirty-six years to destroy what’s taken thirty-six years to create, but how does just one moment of madness end everything?’
Brian appeared not to know what to say.
Dan turned to him. ‘Do you want to know what I think?’
Brian still said nothing.
‘I’ll tell you what I think – no, I’ll tell you what I know and that is: there is no God. And do you want to know how I know there is no God?’
Brian carried on looking at Dan in silence.
‘Because, if having a life and a family is good and being nearly burnt to death in an aircraft crash is bad, then logic would seem to dictate evil is more powerful than good, for what it took God thirty-six years to create, the Devil destroyed in less than thirty-six minutes.’ Dan went back to staring out of the window. ‘Now, as God is meant to be more powerful than the Devil when he’s clearly not, one has to assume the Devil is our true lord and master, or…’ He looked at the pill in the cup – it was turning the water red. ‘It’s all a crock of shit.’
Dan glanced at his reflection in the mirror above the sink before hurling the cup at it. He set about throwing anything he could lay his hands on.
Brian broke his silence. ‘Now come on, Dan.’ He ducked to avoid a bar of soap, even though there was no need. ‘You’ve got to focus on what you still have.’
Dan picked up a bar of chocolate and threw it against a wall. It rebounded limply. ‘You mean, what I’m still going to lose!’ He searched for something heavier.
‘Think about Lucy.’
Dan spotted the oranges Claire had brought. ‘And what do you know about kids? You’ve never even been married.’ The fruit was hurled in different directions.
‘Okay, so I don’t have kids of my own, but I’m still her uncle and I don’t want her to lose you.’
‘Lose me? She lost me the second I was incinerated. What six-year-old wants a walking corpse for a father?’ The oranges resulted in yet more unsatisfactory thuds.
‘She doesn’t care what you’ve become or look like – you know that. She just wants her daddy back.’
Dan picked up Tony’s clock. ‘Well, it looks like Tony’s replaced me in the bedroom, so why not go the whole hog and replace me as a father, too?’
He threw the clock as hard as he could. It bounced off the window, but not before leaving a small crack. Dan picked up the champagne bottle.
‘God, Dan! NO!’
‘I’ve already told you, God doesn’t exist.’
Brian tried to block the projectile, but it passed through him just as easily as it did the window. The sight of glass shattering produced a grin on Dan’s face. The sound of a bottle exploding on the pavement below followed by a squeal of brakes just sealed the sense of satisfaction. Dan flopped onto the bed, exhausted.
‘Now, that’s what you call a champagne celebration!’
The door burst open and two orderlies rushed in, followed by Doctor Adams. They pinned Dan to the bed, rolled up a sleeve and the contents of a syringe was emptied into his arm. Given his weakened state, Dan thought their reaction a little over the top but then felt obliged to add his own performance to the theatrics. He looked at Adams while presenting his best Julius Caesar.
‘Et tu, Brute?’ Dan started giggling and passed out.
He had a dream. He was standing in a snow-covered landscape with nothing to be seen in all directions. The snow was moving and taking him with it. Dan took a step back, but the snow continued to move him forward in the same direction. A black dot appeared in the distance. Before long, people appeared too. Dan had a feeling he knew them, but they were too far away to identify.
Both they and he were all converging on the first black dot, which seemed to be growing in size. Dan was on the cusp of identifying one of them when they reached the dot
and disappeared. The dot was a hole in the ground, through which the snow and bodies were vanishing. More people Dan felt he should be able to recognise reached the hole and fell in too.
Dan paniced. He threw himself onto the ground in a desperate attempt to escape, but it was hopeless. The speed of the snow’s movement increased as Dan approached the edge of the hole, and he thrust his arms and legs out in all directions, trying to get purchase.
Someone grabbed his hand – It was Lucy but she wasn’t there to save him, as she too was being dragged towards the hole. They held on to each other as they passed over the edge, with Dan’s free hand still clawing at the snow. At the very last moment, he found the rim and they stopped falling. Dan looked down at her.
The snow continued to pour like a waterfall over and around them, but Dan managed to keep a firm grip of his daughter’s hand. He could see movement lower down and realised she was holding Claire’s hand, which in turn was holding on to Tony’s. He couldn’t see who Tony was hanging on to, but Dan was sure he knew them too, along with the many others underneath. They were all hanging there, waiting for Dan to save them.
Dan dug his nails into the rim in an attempt to pull them all out, but it crumbled, and each time he regained his grip, it crumbled some more. Dan saw Brian above and, when he realised his brother wasn’t being dragged in too, screamed at him to help. To Dan’s astonishment, Brian’s response was to put a hand up as if he didn’t want to be disturbed – he was staring into the fast-moving current, as if looking for something.
Dan had snow pouring into his eyes, ears and throat, and spat some of it out onto his outstretched arm. The spittle broke the snow out into individual flakes, but instead of being made up of crystals – they were letters. The snow was millions upon millions of tiny white letters of the alphabet. Dan looked back up to see Brian put a hand into the torrent and take something out. Pleased with what he found, Brian then turned to Dan and presented him with a letter: ‘T’.
‘Cup of tea, dear?’