Jolt

by Bernard Beckett

  She’d been moved quickly, dragged, by the amount of dirt on her clothes, then dropped into a cavity beneath the roots of a fallen tree. A single punga frond was draped over her. It was a careless, hurried attempt at hiding her. On the side of her forehead congealed blood had stuck down a clump of hair.

  ‘Fuck,’ Jonathon groaned, low and toneless. It was Rebecca who stepped closer and put her arm around him. I still hadn’t been able to get to my feet. Lisa stood alone.

  ‘We should move her,’ Lisa said. ‘Take her someplace so they can’t find her. In case they come back. We could bury her and mark it out, for later. For the police.’

  No one disagreed.

  ‘Where?’ Rebecca asked.

  ‘How about Jonathon’s idea? Down at the bottom of the slip.’

  ‘It’d be easy to find later.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Then we waited, like we were hoping something else would happen, so we wouldn’t have to do this thing. Nothing did, so we waited some more, for the strength we needed. Then, cautiously, we moved. We started out trying to be gentle, like you might imagine an undertaker would do it, quiet and dignified. But this was the outdoors, steep and awkward. This was a different sort of death. It was real. The body was heavy and we were tired. We took a limb each, although that meant her head hung back, the way you’d never want to see it. I didn’t want to look, or smell, or hear. I didn’t want any of those things getting inside my head because I knew they’d never get out.

  Halfway up the slope I let go. I staggered to the side and retched again but my stomach was empty. I was shivering with cold, my head was fuzzy and my legs collapsed beneath me. I felt the dampness of decaying leaves against one cheek, while tears ran down the other. It wasn’t happening. None of it was happening.

  ‘Hey Marko.’ It was Lisa, hand on my shoulder, speaking softly, not letting me get away. ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I spluttered. ‘I can’t. I just can’t.’

  ‘It’s all right. We’ll manage.’

  So I stayed there, I don’t know how long, hugging my knees to my chest, thinking nothing, being nothing, while the others got on with doing what had to be done. I was useless. When it really came down to it, when we all had to be strong together, I was useless. I let them down, Ms Jenkins too.

  When I walked back to the ridge and looked down, they’d already clawed a shallow grave in the loose dirt of the slip. By the time I got down there they were covering her over. No one spoke to me as I tried to help, losing myself in the feel of the soil in my hands.

  ‘We should say something,’ Lisa said, when we’d finished.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. Something about her.’ I tried to think but I knew no words would come. Then a gun shot exploded above us. I looked up to see all three of them standing together on the track, less than a hundred metres above us. Ms Jenkins might have been an accident. The next one wouldn’t be.

  We ran, down through the thick bush below the slip, Rebecca leading, Lisa’s light pack slung over one shoulder and bouncing wildly, as if it was as frightened as the rest of us. Below me I could hear the chatter of a stream, mixed with the heavy breathing of the others. Above me I could hear the men giving chase.

  15

  APRIL 23 This is all I have left, a makeshift rope, plaited together from the strands of my ripped up pillowcase. Just one thing. Enough to strangle him. He has made his move. In this game of nerves he has called my bluff and I have been forced to take a risk. Now I have one chance left, that is all.

  The nurse came early this morning, just after changeover, when the ward is still dark and ruffl ed by the sounds of bad sleepers. I hadn’t seen her before. I woke as soon as the sound of her approaching feet reached me. It is almost three weeks since I slept properly. I could tell from the way she hurried into the room she wouldn’t be the type to bother much with small talk or smiles. Head down, one job at a time, trying not to look at the clock, trying to think of the car she’s only half paid for, or the next rostered weekend off. I must have been her first task for the morning and she was too busy getting into the routine of it to notice me much. Too busy to see my eyes widen with fear or the sweat of panic breaking over my forehead.

  She’d wheeled in a metal stand, an IV bag already hooked in place on the gleaming upright frame. She had the needle out of its sterile bag and held it up in a gloved hand. The Doctor’s instructions of course. My stunt the other night hadn’t fooled him. Maybe he has known all along. I couldn’t know what was in the bag and I couldn’t ask. I could guess though. A nightmare of possibilities scratched at my eyes and expanded in my throat. I wanted to resist. I wanted to thrash about. I wanted to scream out ‘no!’. I wondered how long it would take before the will to escape was drowned. I looked at the nurse again. What would she do if I fled? Would she be the type to raise the alarm quickly, or give chase herself? Yes, she would hunt me down, I was sure of it. It was her job, her car, her winter holiday.

  A teacher once told me the most important decisions in life have the knack of not seeming all that important at the time. Not this one. It was life and death. That simple, that obvious, that important. And I only had a second to decide. Inside my head I flipped a coin and watched it tumble. I would wait it out. A huge risk, but my best chance.

  I tried to swallow the panic. She took my hand. Hers felt cold, mine must have been burning up. She didn’t seem to notice. She swabbed the vein on the back of my hand and with a minimum of fuss, as if it meant nothing at all, slipped in the first needle. Just a saline flush but still I winced at the cool of it, clearing a path for the executioner. I told myself it would be slow-working, if it was a drip. A desperate hope, nothing more. I began to count. Two minutes. I would give it two minutes. One hundred and twenty quietly ordered seconds to get through, no more. I made that promise to myself. Surviving is all about keeping promises. The second needle. She checked the bag and let a drip run free. A drip of what? She connected the tube and the count began.

  My mind played tricks, feeling heavy, feeling fuzzy, paralysed by fear and imagination. The nurse took her time cleaning up, as if her next job was one she fancied even less. I felt my foot begin to shake. I tensed my whole leg until it felt as if it might snap, hoping she wouldn’t notice. I counted.

  At seventy-five she checked the drip line. I closed my eyes. At eighty-five she had turned away. She was leaving. On ninety-five I sat up and ripped the needle free, tearing away the transparent tape on my hand. Still I counted, like the number line stretching out ahead of me was a path I could follow, all the way to sanity.

  They had taken all my clothes but old Mr Smythe in the bed next door was allowed his faded blazer. I walked around his bed to where it was draped over the back of his chair, smelling of hair oil and dandruff and a life lived past the point of caring. I am past that point too now. Way past. I put the jacket on and returned to my bed for the pillowcase rope.

  I could have walked out then, left here for good, defeated but alive, but that cannot happen. It is another promise I have made to myself. I cannot go on that way, failing every time it matters.

  The nurse had done me a favour, coming so early. The ward was dark and quiet and slipping out was easy. I made straight for the boiler room, a place to sit and think and work out what should happen next, what things had changed. That was the hardest time, sitting there, knowing how easy it would be to walk out, back to all the things, all the people I can’t bear to let myself think about. I only had to let their faces into my mind—Mum, Duncan, the others—and my determination would have dissolved. I started to play games inside my head, justifying my weaknesses, imagining outcomes that could never be real.

  I imagined going to the police and telling them my whole story. In my version they listened and took notes and I led them to the Doctor, and he screamed out for forgiveness as they led him away. Then I got real, thought how I would look to them, an escaped psychiatric patient, with every single worker on the ward h
appy to verify my condition. And the Doctor, who isn’t stupid, and has had plenty of time to cover his tracks. He’ll have a careful answer ready for every question that might be asked. And I’m the only witness, the only one who saw his face. Even if I did get lucky, even if I found someone prepared to push their doubts aside, and even if the Doctor has somehow been careless, then what? Months of trials, questions and doubts, and appeals and stupid juries, like the ones you hear about all the time, too scared to be certain of anything. Ending where? A comfortable sentence in a comfortable prison, halved for good behaviour.

  So even in my weakest moment, alone in that cold room, just this book for company, I knew I had to keep the promise. For Ms Jenkins, for the others, for me. Just this once I have to get something right, something important. I have to stay here. I have to hunt him down, the way he hunted us. I had just decided this, put my mind to planning out the next move, when the door swung open.

  I leapt to my feet, knocking the chair to the floor, filling the room with the sound of my panic.

  ‘Jumpy aren’t we?’ Andrew smiled, edging into the room, watching me carefully like he half-expected me to jump him. Then he gently closed the door.

  ‘So, you talking yet?’ he asked, casual, as if he was asking about the weather. He picked up the chair and sat down on it himself, so I was standing over him. I like Andrew, even though I was trying hard then not to. He doesn’t rush things, he eases into them. There’s a calm surrounding him, a tempting place, where you could pull in for shelter.

  ‘Everyone’s looking for you, you know. They’ve called the police. There are fears you might be dangerous, without your medication. What do you think of that?’

  I thought many things but I kept them to myself.

  ‘You can’t stay here you know. They’ll find you for sure. The maintenance people are in here every second day. They’re due this afternoon. So if you’re thinking of running, now would be the time to go.’

  I listened hard, trying to hear the things he wasn’t saying, like what he was doing here, and why he was so sure I could understand him. I kept returning his stare, buying myself time. I could attack him or I could trust him. They were the only options and I wasn’t ready to decide.

  ‘What was it that spooked you anyway?’

  I stayed silent.

  ‘I heard they were putting a line in, that you were showing signs of dehydration. Water’s not so much to be scared of. Did you think it was something else?’ He leaned forward, as if expecting me to whisper an answer.

  ‘So what’s it going to take to get you talking?’

  More information, I wanted to say. Some way of knowing I can trust you.

  ‘I’m not going to make you go back you know, not if you don’t want to.’

  Then I spoke. Not because I wanted to, not because I had decided I should trust him, but because I had run out of options.

  ‘I need you to hide me.’ The words caught in my throat, like a car coughing to life on a cold morning. Still, he understood me well enough. His eyes brightened and his smile changed shape.

  ‘And why should I do that?’ he asked.

  I didn’t answer.

  ‘Come on. Who are you? What’s your story? I’m curious, nothing else. Tell me and I’ll help you. That can be our deal.’

  I shook my head. That price was too high.

  ‘Do you even know where you are?’

  ‘Of course.’ This time my voice felt more my own. ‘Hospital. Palmerston North.’

  ‘Well done. Ward 10 actually.’ He leaned forward, like he was about to share some secret. ‘It had been closed, lack of funding, you know, but then after the earthquake they needed more emergency facilities. Only, the lifts are out, so they moved psych over here. The thing is they’re so desperate for beds now they’re pushing most people out as soon as they can. Not you though. Why not? Have you even had any visitors? I haven’t seen any. Were you in the city, when it happened?’

  I shook my head. ‘Just hide me.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You don’t need to know.’

  ‘Then I can’t help.’

  It was too much. Now that I was talking again it was hard to keep things reined in. My rage snapped loose. I hauled him out of the chair and drove him back against the concrete wall. He was light and barely resisted. The anger inside me made me strong, strong enough to destroy him, if I had to. I held him there and tried to clear my mind.

  ‘I can’t tell you anything but I do need your help.’ I spoke slowly, like the words could carry more weight, falling one at a time. ‘I need a place where no one will look for me. Just for one night. That’s all. Please.’

  I let him go but I didn’t step back. I waited for his reply. He breathed out slowly, stepping forward so his breath mixed with mine.

  ‘You’re a strange one,’ he finally said, ‘and I’ve seen a few.’ Then, ‘all right, follow me.’

  No more deals, no more questions, just giving in, or helping out, leading me to this new place, where I’m sitting now. It’s another small room, this time in the half-completed new wing where, according to Andrew, a bankrupt construction company let the project stall. The walls are unfinished cladding board and there’s even a cavity behind one, where I can hide if I hear anyone coming. The power is on which is lucky because the room has no windows. Andrew left maybe half an hour ago. He promised to come back later with some food and drink. I think this is like an adventure to him, a welcome change from mops and bedpans. I just hope he isn’t obvious about it.

  I am beginning to feel optimistic again. For the first time since I came here the Doctor has lost sight of me. That must worry him; it must give me the upper hand. Tonight I will slip out and properly get my bearings. I will find a place to sit and watch. If the Doctor is on duty tonight, he is dead.

  16

  When you’re being chased the only thing you want to do is keep running, but in the bush that’s stupid. As we careered downwards the ground became steeper, vines threatened to snare us, tree roots and loose stones made plays for our legs. It was easier for the hunters. They were less panicked, and this time it sounded as if they had learnt to pace themselves, following the sounds of our crashing. They would have caught us for sure if Rebecca hadn’t decided to stop running and hide.

  She stopped suddenly and turned with a finger to her lips, then cut to the side, where a tangle of moss and creepers covered an uneven landscape of rocks and rotting trees. She found a hollow and ripped back the leafy covering. Then she was gone. We followed her as quickly as we could, Jonathon, Lisa, then me. Being at the back I could imagine what a tempting target I would make from above and waited for the sudden fiery pain of a bullet. But we had a good enough lead on them and I squeezed my way into the makeshift cave while our hunters were still battling with the bush high above us. It was an excellent hiding place, for two people. Four was definitely pushing it. We were squashed so tight I could feel other heartbeats vibrating through my body. I knew part of my back was still exposed but there was no way forward. The air quickly became hot and tasted of dirt and decay. I felt a beetle scratch its way across my head but I couldn’t move. With the darkness of the undergrowth and the land falling away in so many different directions, there was a good chance they wouldn’t find us.

  They were still running when they came past us, spread out now, judging by the footsteps. It was a minute later before they realised.

  ‘Which way?’ someone shouted from below. ‘Are they heading in your direction?’

  ‘Don’t think so. Keep going down maybe.’

  ‘Nah, the little bastards have gone to ground. Look around.’

  ‘Should have brought Porker with me. Sniff ’em out no worries.’

  ‘Okay, shut up. We’re not going to hear them with you two going on.’ That was our cue to all breathe in at the same time. I felt the pressure around me increase. Suddenly I wanted to giggle, like it was some backyard game of hide’n’seek. Someone else was shaking, probably Jonathon. T
hey were trying to kill us and we were fighting back the urge to jump out shouting, ‘ha, fooled ya!’ I was never made to be a hero.

  They spread out and moved slowly back up the slope. With only three of them there wasn’t much chance of their covering the area properly. I heard them kicking at ground and breaking back branches, hoping to get lucky. One of them almost did. His foot came down so close to my nose I could smell it. I felt Lisa squeeze my hand. I didn’t know she’d been holding it. I squeezed back and the foot moved on, distracted by some other shadow. We heard them move away. Then I felt Jonathon struggling to get up.

  ‘Not yet,’ Rebecca whispered.

  ‘I’ve got fucken cramp,’ he replied.

  ‘So rub it.’

  ‘Jesus.’ But he settled back down.

  ‘So when can we go?’ Lisa asked.

  ‘When it’s dark.’

  That took another two hours, split into regular intervals by the light on Lisa’s watch. By then I’d cramped up too and standing was painful. Straight away Jonathon was off, heading further down the slope.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Rebecca demanded.

  ‘Taking a crap, Mummy, if that’s all right. Don’t suppose any of you brought toilet paper.’

  ‘Sorry, left it with my hair dryer.’

  ‘Leaves it is, then.’ And he was gone.

  ‘Ah, actually...’ Lisa said.

  ‘Same,’ Rebecca grinned. We all headed off in opposite directions, but none of us went too far. There were worse things than lack of privacy just then. As bonding experiences go it was probably one of the tackier ones but somehow it worked.

  ‘Shiny leaves or prickly?’ Jonathon asked when I returned, last back. It was good to be able to smile.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ I asked.

  ‘I think they’d kill us if they could,’ Rebecca said. ‘We have to be so careful.’

  ‘Do you think they’ve found Ms Jenkins?’