Room 119

by T F Lince

  Death, his cane at his side, towered over Mr Thompson. He had a comforting arm around Mr Thompson’s shoulders, not to restrain the old man, but to show that he was there to ensure Mr Thompson got a safe passage to wherever he was heading. Compassionately, he was watching the old man’s every step.

  They approached Benjie and Dean. Mr Thompson looked at Benjie, and then stared at Dean.

  “May I?” he said, asking confirmation from his bodyguard. Death gave him a friendly stare back, granting permission.

  Mr Thompson walked to the perimeter of the circus ring and Dean felt obliged to go to meet him. He stood up and walked forward.

  “It’s Dean, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Mr Thompson, it is Dean. Pleased to meet you. Can I help you?”

  “Do you know what, Dean? Yes, I think you can.”

  Dean took a deep breath. This seemed important.

  “When you get back, you might see my wife, Harriet. If you do see her, I need you to tell her something for me.” Mr Thompson seemed calm and composed.

  “How will I know who she is?”

  Mr Thompson looked back at his bodyguard and smiled. Dean could have sworn that he nearly got a comforting smile back, which was not really in Death’s job description.

  “You’ll just know, Dean. I need you to tell her that I will wait for her forever. She will then say that she doesn’t believe you. I must warn you she can get a bit feisty, so ask her if she still has our 1962 penny in her bag. Her father gave it to us on our wedding day.”

  “OK, wait forever, 1962 penny – I’ve got that.”

  Mr Thompson continued, “Once she does believe you, tell her that for the first time for over five years, I am in no pain. Then tell her that I have been saving ever since I was diagnosed. She thinks it’s all gone on the horses.” He laughed. “She’s given me so much grief about betting, but I’ve saved over fifty grand. So tell her she does not have to worry.”

  Dean was silent, making sure he remembered what he was being told.

  “She needs to look in the black box under the bed in the spare room. All the details are in there, and some cash for the funeral.”

  Dean repeated the salient facts back to him.

  “So, Harriet, 1962 penny from her dad, you were in no pain, and you have a secret stash in a black box under the bed.”

  Mr Thompson nodded. “Thank you, Dean, it means a lot.” As he started to walk back to join his bodyguard, Benjie the clown came over to them.

  “Mr Thompson, sorry you didn’t make it back. You’re going to need this for your journey.” Benjie took a danake out of one of his deep clown pockets and gave it to Mr Thompson. The old man did not question Benjie or even look at the coin. It was as if it made perfect sense to him. He placed the coin in his pocket and thanked Benjie before heading back to Death’s side.

  Death took out his ancient book and waved his hand across it to check on Dean’s fate.

  “Sir, I think you know he is ready,” said Benjie. “If you give him a second chance, he will not let you down. He would do anything for his wife and daughter. You could see this evening how much they mean to him.”

  Death still looked undecided. Benjie brought Dean into the conversation.

  “You would do anything for them, right, Dean?”

  Dean eyeballed Death to show he meant what he was about to say.

  “I would die for them, sir, so if that’s what it takes, then so be it. I am willing to respect your decision, but I have made mistakes. If given another chance, I will always put Sarah and Jodie first, I promise.”

  Death looked at Dean and then at Benjie before slamming his book closed with a loud clapping sound.

  Chapter 35 – Light at the End of the Tunnel

  Dean’s world went pitch black. He couldn’t hear nor see anything. There was just emptiness. The circus had long gone, as had his guide, Benjie. He was all alone, standing in a black room, a blanket of darkness allowing nothing in and nothing out.

  Dean blinked three or four times to try and find some light.

  “Hello, is anybody there?”

  His voice disappeared into the distance before echoing back to him with interest. “Hello, is anybody there?”

  It can’t end like this, he thought. If he was meant to die, Death would have put him in line for the ferry with Mr Thompson and the others. If Death wanted to take him, he could, so what was the point to this darkness? There had to be a point – there was always a point. Dean needed to think, and think fast.

  He turned around and shouted, “Hello!” Again the sound travelled away before returning, so loud Dean had to put his hands over his ears. He then made a quarter turn to the right. “Hello!” he shouted once more. His voice disappeared into the distance, but this time it did not bounce back to him. He tried the opposite way and again got an echo. He turned back 180 degrees. “Hello!” No response.

  “This way, then,” he said quietly.

  Dean walked slowly with the default defence mechanism for pitch darkness of his hands held out in front of him in case he hit something solid. Standing in the same place would not get him anywhere, and if his voice had not returned from this direction then there must be nothing for it to bounce off.

  “Hello, world,” Dean said, adjusting his position every time he started to get an echo. The only problem was, although he was moving forward, was he moving deeper in or creeping out? He could only hope that his starting point was as deep as he could be, so he must be on his way out.

  Sarah parked the car, Jodie got a parking ticket, then they made their way into the hospital and on to Dean’s ward. Sarah saw Darren sitting at the desk opposite the ward.

  “Any change, Darren?”

  Darren looked down at Jodie as if to say, “Not in front of her.” Sarah cut his look short.

  “Jodie knows more about what’s going on than you and I, Darren, so you can talk in front of her.”

  Jodie appreciated her mother’s backing and stood close to her side.

  “Well, Sarah, we have had a couple of good signs, but there is no pattern. His brain appears to be active, but it’s nearly five months now since the car crash. We need a bit more than a few signs.”

  “What does that mean, Darren?”

  Darren again looked at Jodie. “I think we have about another week before the hospital authorities will want to make a decision on him, so if you have anything up your sleeve to get him out of this coma, then now would be a good time. Sorry, Sarah, but he was dead for over five minutes. People just don’t come out of that, and my bosses all know it. If he does come round then God knows what state he’ll be in.”

  Jodie took a deep breath to force away the tears. Her mum had stuck up for her to allow her to hear this, so the least she could do was to stay strong.

  “Can I see him?” Jodie said to Darren.

  “Of course you can, Jodie.” He then took Sarah to one side. “Do you want a coffee, Sarah?”

  As Darren took Sarah for a coffee in the circular reception room, Jodie headed for her dad’s ward. Sitting by his side in a blue tub chair, she could see four other patients in the ward, all of them wired up just like her dad. She held his hand.

  “Dad, I know you’re in there. Right, you have to listen.” She stood up and whispered in his ear, “The doctors are going to turn your life support off. You have to show them something and come back like you promised.”

  Jodie saw Dean’s eyes flicker behind his eyelids.

  “I love you, Dad,” she said.

  Dean was still weaving his way through the contours of his own mind, trying to find a way out, following his shouts. For all he knew, he could be going round and round in circles, but it was better than standing still.

  “Hello?” He made another slight adjustment and again headed for the echoless gap.

  “Hello?” The echo bounced back.

  “I love you, Dad.”

  Dean stopped.

  “Jodie? Jodie, is that you?”

  The echo c
ame back. “Jodie? Jodie, is that you?”

  Dean made a slight adjustment to the right and continued to walk.

  “The doctors are going to turn your life support off…come back…”

  A light appeared on Dean’s left-hand side and he stopped to look. A memory was replaying: he was perched on the top of Beachy Head, about to jump. He saw Albert and Betty, Albert looking at the beermat Dean had given him before folding it back into his pocket. The Welnetham Hall black and gold business card spun round and round in front of his face; he could hear Albert’s words.

  “Give these people a ring. They are good at dealing with people like you…book into Room 119…”

  Dean continued to walk forward, feeling energised. This must be the way.

  Another cloud of light appeared on his right-hand side this time. He was on the train as it passed Cockfield Station on his first visit.

  “…closed down in 1961, sir, not stopped here since…”

  “Jodie, is that you?”

  Jodie shouted for her mother who joined her at Dean’s bedside.

  “Dad’s eyes, Mum. I started talking to him and his eyes went mad.”

  Jodie looked frightened, unsure of what to do next.

  “Keep doing whatever you’re doing, Jodie. Keep him engaged, don’t lose him.”

  “This way, Dad,” Jodie shouted.

  “This way, Dad.” Jodie’s voice was louder; he must be getting closer. Dean continued walking confidently, moving quickly forward. The darkness now had some light bleeding into it.

  A plume of smoke appeared on his left. This time, Death was chasing Dean through the funfair. The teddy bears went flying, then Dean was in the clearing, opening Benjie’s changing room door. Dean watched himself go through, heard the clown talking to him.

  “Did Jodie tell you about me, Dean?…told her you would leave…”

  “I had…nasty dream about a clown…”

  He shouted, “I am coming back, Jodie. Which way?” The echo returned to him.

  OK, think, think. Which way? He turned to face the memory cloud.

  “Jodie! Sarah!”

  “Dad, we’re here for you.”

  Dean walked through the cloud. As he left it behind him, another cloud appeared. This time he was playing pool with a young Albert, then sitting down to chat with him and Betty. Dean could see himself taking the beermat from the table and ripping off one side, leaving a white area for him to write on.

  “If you are still together in forty years or so, can you be somewhere for me? I have a feeling there will be someone there who will need your help.”

  The beermat spun in front of his face, much as the Welnetham Hall business card had.

  Albert & Betty

  Beachy Head

  11 May 2017 – 8pm

  I might need you there.

  Dean Harrison, Room 119 x

  Dean’s face was twitching, his mouth contorting and his head flicking slightly to the side as if he was fighting against something or someone. Sarah and Jodie could hear the occasional sound. His heart rate had doubled while they had been sitting there.

  Sarah moved to Dean’s ear. “Do you mind, Jodie?”

  “No, Mum, I just want my dad back. Is he coming back?”

  They both looked at Darren, who was standing behind them.

  “Look, I don’t know, but keeping him active and engaged seems like a good thing to do. We have seen almost nothing for five months.” He shrugged his shoulders at Sarah. “Your call.”

  Dean’s heart rate was approaching 160 beats a minute.

  “While we have him, we need to keep him,” Sarah said. “Dean, it’s Sarah. Please come back to us. We love you.”

  “Jodie, which way?”

  “Please come back to us.”

  “Sarah? Sarah, is that you?” Dean marched forward with more purpose. “Sarah, Jodie, I’m coming back.”

  Another memory cloud was forming. Molly was walking her dog by the river, and Dean saw the crowd of people queuing for the ferry. Then he saw Charon pointing at him, contorting his fingers. Everyone was bowing, and Dean felt the same pain as he’d felt that day. He fell to his knees. His throat was narrowing and he was struggling to gasp for air.

  This was not like the other hazy dream bubbles; it had menace. It felt real. Dean knew he had to get past it.

  He turned to the right and shouted, “Sarah, which way?”

  His shout tumbled back towards him. He tried to the left. Again the echo returned.

  He had to face his fears and go through this nightmare. This memory had black thunder clouds pluming around the edges, mini sparks of lightning fizzing and releasing crackles of energy.

  Dean got to his feet and shouted through the cloud, “Sarah.” He waited. A faint sound struggled to penetrate the sinister clouds in between them.

  “Dean, this way. We believe in you, please come back.”

  Dean could hear Molly’s voice as Charon continued to tighten his grip on his life.

  “He is Charon, the Ferryman…I hope you won’t see him for a while…You need to find your own way.”

  Dean got to his feet. He could hear the faint voice of Sarah shouting him. He looked at Charon, then at the cloud.

  “Sarah, Jodie, I’m coming home.”

  Dean ran towards the black clouds. As he entered, he was more or less sprinting. He could hear claps of thunder all around him and felt electricity sparks hitting his arms and legs, but he kept running. This cloud was deeper than any other he had been through; he was running across the River Styx.

  Then Charon the Ferryman grabbed Dean’s arm as he sped past. Charon could feel the danake calling him from Dean’s pocket. With no apparent effort, he knocked Dean to the floor of the ferry with one powerful swipe of his hand. Dean’s feet flew into the air.

  Dean lay flat out on the floorboards of the ferry. Charon stood over him, looking disappointed he hadn’t put up more of a fight. The Ferryman pulled back his fist and took aim to finish Dean off once and for all and claim his danake. Dean was helpless, waiting for the inevitable.

  Dean’s heart rate was off the scale. Sarah was shaking him in his hospital bed.

  “Dean, please come back to us.” She was crying; she knew this was make or break. They would either get him back now or it would be the end.

  Jodie was hugging her mother. “Please, Dad, come home,” she added.

  Darren tried to step in. “Sarah, it’s too much.”

  Dean, lying on the bottom of the ferry waiting for the strike from Charon, heard Sarah first.

  “Dean, please come back to us.”

  And then Jodie.

  “Please, Dad, come home.”

  He moved out of the way just as Charon’s fist delivered the punch. The boat nearly capsized with the power delivered by the punch, and Dean saw an opportunity. He jumped into the water, scrambling to the river bank.

  Charon jumped off the ferry into the shallows and followed Dean, making his way to the sandy shore where Dean was lying exhausted. This is it, Dean thought, this is the end. Charon towered over Dean about two or three feet away.

  Death walked up behind Dean and pointed with his stick to the river. Charon bowed his head – he had no power off the water. It was not his patch. Death shook his head and waved his finger, telling the Ferryman off like he was a naughty boy. Charon respectfully nodded to Death. He knew the rules. He would have to collect his coin another time.

  With renewed energy, Dean got to his feet and continued to run through the nightmare. As he passed the queue of waiting dead either side of him, they reached out as if drawn to one of the living. He ran and ran until, exhausted again, he fell into the darkness on the other side of the nightmare.

  He turned to see the nightmare behind him, the people boarding the ferry. Where next? he wondered.

  “Sarah! Jodie!”

  “Dean, this way.”

  He could hear them properly now; they were louder and clearer.

  “I’ll be there soon
, Sarah,” he shouted. He then took a deep breath and walked ahead into even more darkness.

  The next memory was the circus with Benjie. Dean stopped and watched himself as Bobo, laughing as he arrived in the car before painting the boat and being shot from the cannon. Dean took a moment to critique himself.

  “Not bad, even if I say so myself.”

  He smiled. How the hell had Benjie talked him into that? He shook his head.

  He then saw himself sitting on the bench in the Big Top with Benjie, having a drink from Benjie’s hipflask. He moved closer so his nose was just about touching the outer cloud of the memory.

  “Not many get to see this, Dean.”

  “What, an empty circus?”

  “No, you idiot, to see themselves crawling out of a hole and heading back to the real world.” Dean looked at Benjie’s face as they chatted. Benjie could not stop looking at Dean; he was clearly in Dean’s corner.

  “He wants to make sure that if he gives you a second chance, you mean it.”

  Death and Mr Thompson entered the ring. Once again, Dean watched the speech Benjie gave on his behalf.

  “Sir, I think you know he is ready…”

  He then saw himself address Death.

  “I would die for them, sir, so if that’s what it takes, then so be it. I am willing to respect your decision, but I have made mistakes. If given another chance, I will always put Sarah and Jodie first, I promise.”

  The cloud faded away and a white dot appeared in the distance. He heard his last words echo over and over as they faded.

  “I would die for them, sir…”

  “…respect your decision…”

  “…always put Sarah and Jodie first, I promise…”

  “…I would die for them, sir, so if that’s what it takes, then so be it…”

  The cloud vanished along with the echo.

  In the hospital, Dean’s heart rate had stabilised at 85 beats per minute and his breathing was regular. There were no more sudden movements and his eyes were doing what they should be doing and remaining quite still. Sarah and Jodie were talking quietly, calmly. They could sense something had changed, but were not entirely sure what.