by Logan Castle
“The man you saw was Isaac Kent,” she insisted. “What happened next, while it doesn’t excuse anything he did, should give you context into just how much one man can sustain before he breaks.”
I heard a sudden violent bang on the wall adjacent to me, as if someone were striking it with a fist. Startled, I leaned forwards to get up and stopped immediately when the pain receptors in my body reacted with a vengeance. Lynn never budged, despite hearing a gruff voice that came from behind the wall.
“You’ve got two more minutes, Lynn. The doctor is on his way and wants to examine him without you being present.”
“Thank you, Captain,” she yelled back.
A doctor. The word was heavenly music to my ears. Even while listening to Lynn’s story, I couldn’t ignore the tremendous strain my body was under. The effects of the beatings and my malnourishment were playing absolute havoc with me. I was certain it was only a simple matter of time before I collapsed from it. However, I doubted I would be fortunate enough to wake up from it. While the news was welcome, it only confused me.
“A doctor? Why?” I asked without thinking.
“Well, it’s not as if you don’t need one,” she observed.
“No, I just wasn’t expecting it,” I explained, trying not to sound ungrateful for what, on the surface, seemed a gesture of good will toward my behalf.
“You shouldn’t take it as anything more than a measure to make sure you’re alive for whatever Captain Bardham has in store for you,” she said.
“Captain Bardham? The man who stood up against Larry?”
“The same,” she answered.”
“Thank you,” I said meekly.
“For what?” she asked.
“For standing up for me the way that you did. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t,” I explained.
“Don’t thank me,” she exclaimed. “I have my own selfish reasons for choosing to help you.”
My head shot up at that. “What do you mean?”
I heard her breathe in and out with a long sigh that I could only describe as one of defeat before she spoke. “If we get out of this, perhaps you will know. For now, we have limited time and there is more you should learn before I leave.”
I nodded slowly in acknowledgement and waited for her to continue.
“Where was I?” she asked herself. “Oh, yes. The first few months of Isaac Kent’s presidency were filled with unity, decisive action and a solidarity of purpose that everyone seemed excited about. It wasn’t just about returning our country to its prime position as the benevolent world power we were prior to Gerhardt’s reign. No, it was also about becoming one country again. The need to set aside their own personal differences so everyone could start working together to accomplish something greater than themselves was important. We always have been a nation of immigrants, too often categorized by the color of our skin or our religion or our ethnic background. President Kent, with his family and the rest of the country proudly behind him, managed to guide us steadfastly in that direction. For those glorious few months, everything looked like it would be just fine. Better than that, actually. For the first time in god knows how long, we were happy.”
She paused. I waited.
“And then, one day, it all came crashing down on our heads,” she added, audible pain sinking into her tone.
“We were one year into our nation’s rebuilding process and everything was going great. President Kent proved to be an even greater hero, if that were possible, than he had been at the end of the conflict. He, his devoted wife and their children worked tirelessly to bring us to that point. He was preparing to deliver the president’s annual State of the Union address. The entire nation tuned in to watch what we all knew would be a celebratory moment for our reemerging nation. I remember that day as if it were only yesterday.
“After a grand celebration, the President, with his family right behind him, walked up to the podium, and there was a cry of jubilation from the crowd. They all came to witness the historic event in person. Those of us who couldn’t be there, I would venture to say, were watching it on TV or listening to the radio. Anything to participate on such a momentous day of history. And boy, did we ever witness it that day.”
She trailed off briefly but, when she spoke again, she struggled not to break down and it was audible in her words.
“He was so proud. We could all see it. When he looked at us, we could see the love and admiration so clearly in his eyes. It was beautiful. It lasted all of a moment, and then everything changed. He didn’t even have time to get a full sentence out of his mouth before an explosion rocked the podium. At first, we thought some fireworks must have failed to go off prior to his entry, but we soon knew that something else had happened. There was panic… and then came the screams… I’ll never forget those screams. They went on for what felt like hours. Once the smoke all cleared, the severity of the situation was painfully clear to everyone.”
I heard her sniffle and it took everything in me not to inquire if she were all right. I did not think she was the type to respond to such a gesture in a favorable way, and I was also too entranced by her story to take any action that might make her pause in telling it. I allowed her the time she needed to collect herself.
“The bomb was set off by a crazed fanatic and former supporter of President Gerhardt. While the president was physically unharmed, what happened that day killed him in every other way that truly mattered. The president’s wife and his two small children were killed in the blast and with them, his very soul.”
Lynn fell silent. I assumed she was waging her own private battle from where she was sitting. The certainty of her tone had noticeably deteriorated when she reached that final part. For as strong as she most certainly was, it was obvious that this memory still tortured her. As for me, I couldn’t stop the tears filling my eyes as I analyzed the details. As a father, it struck a chord. In my mind, there is no bigger fear than having the obligation to bury your own children. Not only that, but his wife too. Despite what he did to me in stealing my life and girlfriend, I must admit I felt a small swell of pity for the man.
Once again, a rapping on the adjacent wall beside me was followed by the same voice of the man behind it.
“Lynn? Doc’s here. Time for you to leave.”
“Yes, Captain. I’m coming,” she replied.
Still enveloped in shadows, I watched her get up and shake herself off before she walked towards the corner of the room where I assumed the door was. I still couldn’t make out her face, however. I figured that she did not want me to see it for a reason. Raw emotion. No one ever wants a stranger to see them when they are so vulnerable. While I tried to be understanding of her pain and although I was grateful for her taking the time to speak with me, I still felt no wiser than when we first started. I was in no condition to refuse or stall the need for medical attention, but I felt compelled to make that point to her.
“Wait! You told me you had answers for me,” I pleaded.
She paused and half her face was illuminated in what little light there was in the room. I could just make out the beginnings of a bruise underneath her right eye, no doubt the result of Larry’s assault. I cooled the anger that swelled inside me as I looked at it. Hearing the click of the doorknob, I felt warm air rushing into the room when the door swung open.
“There is more to the story than that. Assuming we can keep you alive beyond tomorrow, I will share it with you. I have, however, already given you the answer to what I expect is one of your most burning questions. You have simply failed to see it.”
I nearly jumped to my feet out of desperation. “What do you mean?! Please tell me. I don’t know what you mean!”
“Her name,” Lynn said, dryly.
“What?” I asked, feeling utterly confused.
“The name of Isaac Kent’s wife; it was Plum.” Saying that, the door slammed behind her and I was left with only my imagination and thoughts to comfort me.
When the door opened again, I was too busy replaying Lynn’s words in my mind to notice. For some strange reason, I thought that if I repeated them in my head enough times, they might actually start to make some sense. The final revelation continued to unhinge me and squelch what little progress I managed to make.
Her name was Plum.
I watched Lynn’s lips move and heard the words that came from her mouth, but that final step of comprehending them and what it all meant was giving me trouble. There were a million mind-bending thoughts going through my head all at once, every one of them in bitter conflict with the last. They were threatening to tear everything I thought I knew about reality into a million little pieces. Amidst the burning questions however, a single certainty pierced my soul and made me shake uncontrollably.
He’s after Plum!!
Sitting huddled in the corner of the room, I couldn’t stop replaying the scene from earlier in my bedroom. I hated the way he spoke about Plum. That, coupled with all the details I gathered from Lynn’s story made his sinister intentions suddenly all too obvious.
Lynn said there was more to tell but even with what she’d already shared, I still had an endless string of questions that could barely stay contained within the confines of my already overloaded mind. It was like a giant puzzle to me. Sometimes, I managed to fit a few of the pieces together, but there were countless other pieces that only frustrated me with their jagged edges and non-conforming borders. I felt like an ant in the shadow of a gigantic boot, helplessly awaiting my demise and no longer having any control over my own destiny.
I looked up to see a short man with scraggly, dark hair and a beard that covered most of his face except for his droopy, dark brown eyes. His heavy breathing finally snapped me out of my trance. Startled back to awareness, I realized that I was so lost in my own maze of scenarios that I failed to even notice the man when he entered.
Wearing a faded T-shirt that was several sizes too large and pants that could barely stay around his waist, I knew he was heavy set even before I saw him. His obnoxious breathing first tipped me off, and his lack of any neck fully gave him away. He was leaning forward slightly, his posture somewhat exaggerated due to a practically overflowing backpack that was balanced on his back.
“President Kent?” His voice was shaking with uncertainty. The deep bass of it reminded me of Morgan Freeman.
“I’m not,” I started until a tremor of fear that these people still thought I was a monster crossed my mind. “Just Isaac. Please.”
A nervous look appeared on his disheveled face before he nodded his acknowledgement. “I’m Carter. I’ve been asked to examine you.” He pulled the backpack off with a groan and placed it gently down on the floor in front of him. After he unzipped it, he began to rummage through its contents.
“Do your thing, Doc,” I answered with a sigh, my entire body aching more than ever. The clashing thoughts that were streaming through my brain abruptly ceased. The mere prospect of finally getting my many wounds examined and treated instantly took center stage.
“My name’s Carter so call me that,” he muttered gruffly, extending two hairy arms towards me with his palms up.
I stared mutely at his arms before I realized that he expected me to extend mine towards him. I lifted my forearms wincing in pain as he gripped onto them with rough hands. I watched with eager anticipation as he studied the wounds. “Oh, sorry. I’ve always referred to doctors as ‘Doc’,” I explained, just in case I offended him in some way.
“No apology necessary,” he replied. He produced a small tube and a roll of gauze from the backpack. “I never liked the word doctor. Just a small pet peeve of mine.”
“Why is that?” I asked amiably. I figured I should try to make as many comrades in this hell-hole as I could.
He didn’t answer, but instead busied himself by lathering some type of ointment onto my wounds before wrapping gauze tightly around my forearms in very deliberate, circular motions.
Once he was finished with both, he looked up at me. “Pretty nasty wounds you have there. They almost seem self-inflicted.” He cleared his throat as he studied me with narrowed eyes. “Might make a man start to wonder if there could be any reason to worry that you might try and off yourself before tomorrow’s events?”
“No,” I answered without any hesitation. I was trying hard to forget the far too vivid memory of my bout with madness. “I have nothing to hide from anyone.”
“Guess we will have to just take your word for that.” Carter looked away from me and began to poke at the bruises that seemed to completely envelop my chest.
With every diagnostic prod, I winced and groaned. He didn’t seem concerned, however, and continued his ministrations. At last and mercifully, he stopped his palpating and glanced up at my face.
Reaching forward, he started running his fingers over my upper cheeks and then my jaw, obviously searching for broken bones.
“Fuck! That hurts!” I cried out.
“Well, obviously your jaw isn’t broken,” he replied sarcastically. “Follow my finger with your eyes.”
I obeyed his instruction, shifting my eyes from left to right and then up and down.
Apparently satisfied with that, Carter abruptly reached into the backpack again, taking things out and throwing them to the side with almost blatant disregard. Finally, he pulled out a bottle of pills. He popped the top open and poured several white pills into his hand.
“As you may have already guessed, we don’t have the luxury of an X-ray machine or anything else that could properly diagnose the true extent of your injuries. However, I’m fairly certain you have a concussion, a broken nose, a few cracked, possibly broken ribs and most likely, some internal bleeding.”
“Jesus, that asshole really did a number on me,” I exclaimed…and instantly looked up at the doctor with an alarmed look in my eyes.
The doctor glanced at me with disinterest, seemingly unfazed by my assessment of Larry. “As for treating your ribs, I would have wrapped them in gauze to give you some added support but we’re running low on medical supplies.” He cleared his throat. “Which means you’ll have to endure the pain so you must do your best to minimize all movement. Here; take three of these.”
He dropped the pills into my hand. I just sat there, studying them while wondering whether I could trust him. How did I know if they weren’t some type of poison? Carter looked at me, quizzically and exclaimed, “You’re worried I’m trying to poison you or something?”
“That thought did cross my mind.”
Carter exhaled as he looked at me glumly. “If you aren’t going to take them, just give them back. Medical supplies are scarce and pain killers are always in high demand.”
“It’s not that. It’s just,” I tried to backpedal but quickly stopped, cursing my own indecision silently. “What are they?”
“Viciferol.”
“What’s that?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
“Viciferol.”
When I continued to stare at him, he gawked back at me.
“Why are you looking at me like you never heard of it?” he demanded.
“Because I’ve never heard of Viciferol before,” I answered slowly, feeling every word and hurting.
“Jeez, Larry really knocked you silly, didn’t he?” I didn’t reply so he continued. “Everyone knows what Viciferol is! Duh! It’s only the wonder drug of the century. It reduces body temperature and inflammation? Any of that sound familiar?”
I just stared vacantly at him, my confusion fully displayed. “Aspirin? Are you talking about aspirin?”
It was Carter’s turn to stare blankly at me. All of a sudden, I realized what was happening. Obviously, not all the things in this reality were identical to my own. Aspirin, or Viciferol as it apparently was called here, was one of those anomalies. “Never mind,” I said, reaching out to take the pills. I put them in my mouth and swallowed them in one gulp. I fig
ured poison was probably a better way to die than by Larry’s hand anyway.
Carter watched me closely before reaching down into the backpack again. After a few expletive-laden seconds and sloppy thrashing through the contents, he produced a banana. The very sight of it made my stomach groan.
“A banana! Right?” I ventured. It could have been called something else in this fucked-up reality.
He looked at me with incredulity. “Of course it’s a banana! What else would it be?!”
I kept my mouth shut as he handed it to me. He eyed me with a mix of suspicion and intrigue, almost like he was studying a new foreign medical specimen. “Thank you,” I said softly as I immediately unpeeled it. A banana never tasted as good as that one did.
He waved an impatient hand in my face. “Medication without food never bodes well for the patient. I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself though. As I said before, all the rations are tight. Of course, one could make an argument that they shouldn’t be wasted on you.”
I didn’t ask him why he would waste their precious rations on me but chose to file it away in my head all the same. Maybe the doctor would prove another valuable ally to me.
Carter put his hand out and motioned toward the banana peel. “Evidence,” he said.
“Oh, right.” I handed it to him and he threw it into the backpack. “Thanks again.”
“You should try and rest now,” he answered gruffly.
To my surprise and as if in a hurry, he piled everything into his backpack, zipped it up and hoisted it over his shoulder. Then he turned toward the door without acknowledging me further. As he yanked the door open, I called out after him.
“Thanks.”
I heard him mutter something underneath his breath before he disappeared into the blackness beyond the door.
I was alone again. The prospect of being alone could have very well replaced my currently calm mental state with one of chaos and upheaval, but I was absolutely steadfast in my resolution. I intended to relax and try to get some rest. The medical attention, no matter how shoddy and slipshod it seemed at the time, eased my mind considerably. While my stomach was still aching from lack of food, the banana helped immensely. I rested my head against the wall and decided to try and close my eyes for as long as my addled brain would remain quiet and cooperate. The aspirin, (a.k.a. Viciferol), kicked in rather quickly and I was asleep in no time.