Sleepwalkers

by Tom Grieves

  ‘Made you go get it with him,’ said Ben.

  ‘Yes,’ said Toby, surprised by the interruption.

  ‘And at the top, the field was covered in thistles and stinging nettles,’ said Ben, ‘but he made you walk through it anyway, even though you were in shorts and sandals.’

  Anna felt the blood pounding in her head. She saw Toby stare in shock at Ben and noticed that Terry was also absorbed and confused by his story. She had to lean back against the wall for balance.

  ‘I have the same memory,’ said Ben to Toby, not noticing Anna. ‘Me and my father. I let go of the kite because my hand was slippery from sunscreen.’

  Anna felt the nausea rising inside her.

  ‘I thought that one was real,’ said Ben sadly.

  Anna ran out of the room, pushing past them and staggering down the corridor. She was sick before she reached the end. Her stomach cramped and she doubled over, falling onto her knees. She didn’t move until the final wave passed and she spat the last of it out onto the floor. She stood up, sucking in air, gazing down at the mess. What did it matter? She spat again for good measure.

  When she returned to the room, they all stared at her, waiting for an explanation. She walked through to the other room and drank some water, swilling some around her mouth to clear away the taste. And then she went back and finished Ben and Toby’s story for them. Their stunned expressions offered her no comfort.

  ‘My father,’ she explained, ‘works for the company that owns the building we visited – the lab. I didn’t know, I only found out yesterday. I think I’m the link between them and you. I think they’ve given you my memories.’

  She shook slightly as she said the words. It was as though she was always out of breath.

  Terry lit a cigarette. ‘Why do you think they’re your memories, Miss?’ he asked.

  ‘Because, well, it would make sense, that he took them from me. I’m the link to him and then he—’

  ‘What if you’re just like Ben and Toby?’

  ‘But I don’t have nightmares. Or any dreams or … anything like that.’

  ‘Maybe the teacher bit is the dream. Maybe you were put there to meet Toby, to help him escape from his parents. Get him here.’

  She looked at Toby and found he was watching her warily. They were suddenly isolated by suspicion.

  ‘So what about Ben?’ she argued. ‘I didn’t find him, did I?

  ‘No, he just happened to spot Toby on the internet. Among a billion uploads, he just lucked out and saw him. Jesus, why didn’t I see that before? No wonder he found us so easily. He was led all the way.’

  ‘I don’t understand what’s going on,’ Toby whimpered.

  Anna turned to face Terry. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘He’s saying,’ said Ben, taking Terry’s cigarette off him and taking a deep drag, ‘that we are doing just what they want. We always have. Awake or asleep.’ He handed the cigarette back. ‘You realise that means you’re a part of their plans too.’

  ‘Sod that,’ Terry replied without much conviction.

  ‘But why? What do they want?’ she protested. ‘It’s like, we could run, we could go anywhere, but how would we know that we’re still not just following orders?’

  Ben just shrugged. It was as if he’d finally given up.

  ‘We know what you were for, Ben,’ said Terry. ‘You killed people for them. I guess the point was, if you were ever caught, you’d look all confused and the papers would run a story about a nutter doing some random act of violence. God, I wonder how many of those were really true.’

  ‘And me?’ said Toby. ‘I didn’t hurt anyone. I just … got hurt.’

  ‘Maybe you were in training, or something.’ The words seemed stupid, but everything seemed stupid and everything seemed terrifying, and Anna had no idea how to tell the difference.

  ‘What do we do?’ she said. ‘Do we stay here, do we run? What?’

  ‘If they haven’t got us, maybe they don’t know where we are,’ suggested Toby hopefully.

  ‘Or they’re waiting for the right time to use us.’ Terry sucked on his cigarette, thinking. ‘Maybe Toby’s going to do some loony shoot-out at college or school.’

  ‘No I won’t.’

  ‘Maybe you will. Maybe, Anna, maybe you’ll …’

  ‘Maybe I’ll go mad and stab some of my pupils? It’s ridiculous. And it doesn’t explain why we’re here, all here together. And it doesn’t explain why you’re here too.’

  ‘Why do all that stuff to me if I’m just going to end up dead anyhow?’ Toby argued. ‘This isn’t right, we haven’t got it right, there’s something else, there has to be!’

  ‘It’s something to do with us being together,’ said Ben. ‘Us four. Why do they want us together?’

  Anna looked at each of them in turn, noticing them doing the same, but they were banging against a locked door.

  Finally Toby broke the silence. ‘No one’s making me do a thing.’ He spat the words out.

  ‘And how will you stop them?’ said Terry.

  ‘I’m free now.’

  ‘Bullshit. None of us are free. No one.’

  Anna imagined the kite slipping from her tiny hands and the way she lost sight of it in the glaring sun. She remembered turning to her father and the expression on his face as he dragged his eyes from his book to her tearful face. She tried to imagine Toby doing exactly the same thing, then Ben. She felt as though something had been stolen from her.

  ‘Well, if they want to keep us together, then we should split up,’ she said.

  Ben nodded, pleased to hear this.

  ‘But first, we’re going to see my father.’

  ‘Yeah, sweet,’ sneered Terry. ‘Gonna ask Daddy to make it all stop, are you?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking,’ Anna replied. Her voice was gruff.

  ‘And what if he says no? I mean, he might be a big cheese, but I imagine that the company’s plans might not include making U-turns because Daddy’s girl says pretty please.’

  Anna didn’t bother to reply. She looked at Ben – are you ready?

  ‘Seriously, Miss. What are you going to do when he blows smoke up your arse?’

  ‘I’ll kill him,’ she replied. And right there, right then, she meant it. If he wasn’t her father, if all her memories were false, then he was merely a stranger, a cruel torturer.

  She buttoned up her coat and walked out. Her walk seemed more confident, as though she’d found an old part of herself from deep inside. Ben caught up with her and looked at her. She nodded at him, confident and purposeful. It was time for some answers.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The drive was understandably quiet. It had taken Ben ages to steal another car and Anna seemed far less confident when he finally picked her up. She fidgeted in the passenger seat, directing him towards her father’s office. As they headed there, they worked out a plan. Henry Price was a man of habit and would leave the office for lunch at one o’clock. It was then that they would take him. Ben would knock him unconscious and they’d dump him in the boot before heading back to the squat. Once there, in one of the basement rooms, deep underground, isolated by thick concrete walls, they would finally get their answers. Ben didn’t believe that Anna was actually capable of hurting her father. But he was. All she had to do was point him out.

  The Rylance Group had several offices scattered across the globe. Henry worked in a smart but nondescript building in the centre of the city. They drove past it and Ben glanced through the glass frontage to see a bored security guard reading the paper at an otherwise unmanned desk. It looked just like any other office.

  ‘He’ll come out from the lift and stop to talk to that guy,’ said Anna. ‘He’ll know his first name and all about his wife and family. He’s like that.’ It was sort of a boast and sort of an apology. Ben drove on and parked around the corner. He checked his watch and switched off the engine. They were early.

  ‘I go up to him, stop him, and then you come from behind and yo
u hit him,’ said Anna.

  ‘You said.’

  ‘Yes, but I just … yes.’

  She put her hands flat on her lap. And then her feet started tapping. ‘Just don’t hit him too hard, just enough to—’

  ‘Anna, I know what to do.’

  She drifted into silence for a while, then said, ‘Should we be parked here this long? We might attract attention?’

  He saw her feet go still for a moment then start to tap quietly again. He understood her nerves, he felt them himself. They were close to answers, to the truth. Finally. And he had no concerns about what might be needed to get it. A shiver slipped through him. Anna saw it.

  ‘Are you scared too?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ he answered, but his voice was a little hoarse.

  Ben stared ahead. They’d parked in a small side street between Henry’s office and the small cafe that he liked to frequent. It was the obvious cut-through and he would come this way. Ben checked his watch. Half an hour to go, and then Anna would slip out of the car and confront her father as he turned into the street. And then he would get to work. He felt that shiver again and noticed that Anna was looking at him.

  ‘I was thinking about my wife,’ he said. ‘I was thinking about the time we first met.’

  It had been at a Christmas party; a work do at his boss’s house which none of the guys from the garage had been keen on going to. But duty called and so they scrubbed up, put on their best clothes and made a deal to get out of there as soon as it didn’t look too rude. Ben had always been awkward at those sort of things and soon found himself standing alone, clutching a warm glass of white wine, watching his workmates chat happily to strangers. Everyone else smiled and chatted as though it were the easiest thing in the world. He had tried to join in, but a faltering conversation with a smart woman who kept staring over his shoulder soon spluttered into silence and he was back on his own, in the corner, trying to edge his way out of everyone’s eyeline but being pushed forward by an oversized prickly plant in a huge terracotta pot. It was as though the plant were egging him on: go socialise, loser.

  And then this pretty girl came over to him and started laughing. ‘Who the hell keeps a bloody cactus in their living room?’ she said. It was as though she could read his mind.

  She chatted to him without the usual reserve or clever smalltalk and he found that he was able to talk back. She told him her name was Carrie and that he was never, ever allowed to call her Caroline. She was there because her brother played football with the boss and she felt as out of place as he did. She had this funny way of touching her ear, as though she were adjusting an earring. It meant her shoulders would often hunch up, as if she were nervous, scared of something. It reminded Ben of a little mouse. Later, for many years, he used to call her Little M.

  They stuck together for the rest of the night. She joked that they were the only sane ones – or the ultimate losers. And Ben thought she was lovely. She never turned away to check out other people and the conversation never felt forced or boring. They just clicked.

  At the end of the evening, just as he was planning to give her his phone number, or maybe ask for hers (the whole thing was a little stressful), he was suddenly dragged into the middle of the room by his boss who was now hilariously drunk. He had his arm around Ben’s neck, pulling other guys from the garage to him, telling them all how much he loved them, how much he owed them, and other drunken bollocks. One of the guys told him he’d like a pay rise, and for a moment it all looked as if it was going to get ugly, which made the whole thing even funnier. But then Ben looked around and realised that Carrie had gone. His boss still had a tight grip around his shoulder and would probably have fallen over if he’d tried to get away. Everyone was laughing and joking, but Ben was gutted.

  When he finally pulled himself away, he knew it was much too late. He got out as quickly as he could, not bothering to put on his coat even though it was freezing outside. He stomped down the road, trying not to slip on the snow and ice, cursing to himself. But then he heard a shout. He turned and saw that it was Carrie. She came up to him with a face like thunder.

  ‘You’re a prick,’ she said.

  ‘Okay …’

  ‘Do you get on with everyone, is that it? You find people easy to meet and forget?’

  ‘No, no, not at all,’ he stammered. ‘It’s the opposite.’

  ‘So why did you just ignore me like that?’

  Ben tried to explain himself, stammering and faltering as he did, waving his hands in the air. It was a pretty pathetic explanation and he knew then the words weren’t doing what he wanted, which made him even more expressive and ridiculous. Eventually he gave up and let out a sad sigh.

  ‘Cos, I’m a bit crap, I guess.’

  Somehow, it seemed to do the trick. Carrie smiled. She looked so pretty there in the snow, shivering with the cold. She looked up at him, curious.

  ‘Are you going to hurt me?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘I promise I’ll never hurt you.’

  And then she raised herself up on tiptoe and kissed him. A tiny, delicate kiss. Her lips were freezing and he realised she must have been waiting outside for him for ages. He pulled his coat over her and took her back to his cramped, dirty flat. She laughed at the socks on his radiator and pulled on his jeans which were so big on her that they came up to her chest. And she let him take them off and make love to her.

  ‘And she never left,’ he said to Anna, sadly.

  He leaned back in his seat, looking down at the small gold band on his finger, twirling it with his thumb and forefinger.

  ‘Do you think my story is real?’ he said without looking at her. ‘It feels real. It’s not special or amazing in any way. So why shouldn’t it be?’

  Anna was quiet. Ben looked out of the window. The street was deserted. When Henry came, Ben doubted they’d have to worry about other people.

  ‘How about the time when my son was born? Joe?’ he asked. ‘I was given three days off. We never left the house. Our little baby just lay on the bed between us and I don’t think he cried once the whole time. We would play him our favourite songs, sing and dance for him. It was like we were wrapped up in this magic bubble and the rest of the world couldn’t get in. And Carrie was so naughty. She’d be like “See, little Joe, this is what happens when I stroke your daddy’s penis.” And I’d be all blushing and embarrassed cos it seemed so wrong! And she’d laugh at me. Laugh and laugh. Jesus.’

  He twisted the ring on his finger.

  ‘You think that’s from someone else?’ he asked. ‘You think some woman we’ve never met said that, did all that with some other stranger and now it’s in my head?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ was Anna’s feeble reply. He nodded. How could she?

  ‘And then there are the other things I remember. Ones I don’t want to tell you about cos they’re cruel and scary. The thing is, the longer I’ve been away from Carrie, the more I remember all that stuff. Like how I was before they got to me. How I got around, what I did.’

  His face twisted with revulsion.

  ‘It comes back stronger each day. And so it starts to feel more comfortable too. Like old clothes or something. I don’t like what I was but … shit.’

  He scratched his head then clasped his hands together.

  ‘The more I remember what I was like and the more I feel like that person, the more Carrie seems to drift away. I feel like I’m forgetting bits of her. Like there’s only so much room in my head and as the old shit comes back so it’s pushing out all of the bits about her. And my kids too. I was lying in bed this morning and I couldn’t remember what colour eyes my little girl has.’

  He felt so constricted in the car, he wanted to pound the steering wheel. He wanted to smash windows and hear things break.

  ‘Blue,’ he added. ‘They’re blue.’ And suddenly Emma’s giggle drifted through his head and he was smiling, quiet and calm again.

  Anna gave hi
m a tremulous smile, and he nodded, grateful for her companionship.

  ‘Is she pretty?’ she asked.

  ‘She’s my little girl. She’s perfect. But one day I’m scared I’m going to wake up and she’ll be gone. She’ll have just gone from my mind. Carrie too, and Joe. And I’ll never even know they ever existed. I’ll just be him, the old me. I’ll just be a thug and a drunk. Just wake up one morning and it will all be gone.’

  He looked down at the gold ring next to his bruised, scarred knuckles.

  ‘I don’t know how to stop it. I’ve started writing it down, everything I can remember. But I feel like I’m sliding down this sandbank. And it doesn’t matter how hard I try to claw my way back up, at the end, she’ll go. I’ll wake up and she’ll be gone. It’s like she’s dying in front of me, bit by bit, wasting away.’

  Tears welled up in his eyes. He wiped them away and then checked his watch again.

  ‘Come on, it’s nearly time.’

  He knew that Anna was still watching him and he felt her hand go to his and give it a delicate squeeze. And he knew also that this was all she could offer. So he cleared his throat and muttered something about checking the side mirrors. He couldn’t think about any of that now.

  About ten minutes later, Henry Price turned the corner and walked into the side street, bang on time. Ben nudged Anna and she stepped out of the car, just as he reached them.

  ‘Daddy,’ she said, as Ben slipped out, unseen, and approached Henry from behind him. He saw Henry smile at his daughter, delighted to see her, before he hit him hard on the back of the head. He crumpled with little more than a grunt and Ben grabbed him before he hit the ground. Then he pulled him up into his arms and looked up at Anna to see that she was frozen in shock.

  ‘Anna, the boot!’

  His words galvanised her. She ran to the back of the car, opened the boot, and Ben heaved Henry’s body into it, dumping it inside as delicately as he could.