The Treatment

by C. L. Taylor

  I look him straight in the eye as doubt gnaws at my gut. Was that the wrong thing to say? Have I shown too much emotion? ‘Yes. I am pleased.’

  ‘Excellent, excellent, excellent!’ He claps his hands together, jumps off the desk and looks at Jeff Kinsey with an expression of unrestrained delight. ‘You see, Jeff? You see what we’ve accomplished? Did you see that reaction? I just told her that her father is still alive after eight years of thinking that he was dead and she couldn’t be more nonplussed. That’s the power of the treatment, Jeff. Society before family. We’re turning antisocial teenagers into model citizens; young people who drained this country of its resources now actively want to contribute.’

  ‘Well.’ The Home Secretary eases himself out of his seat and holds out his hand as he approaches Dr Rothwell. ‘You’ve got me convinced. Bloody well done.’ He grips his hand and squeezes him on the arm. ‘We’re proud of you, Phil. You’re doing amazing things here. Absolutely amazing.’

  ‘I’m so glad you think so.’ Dr Rothwell couldn’t look more proud. ‘Now, I think we’ve got just enough time to show you the treatment centre before you need to get back to London. We’ll go out the front door so you can take a good look at the grounds.’ He doesn’t so much as glance at me as he guides Jeff towards the door. ‘You can find your way back to the rec room, can’t you, Drew?’

  Chapter Forty-One

  As the front door clicks shut behind them I look from the staircase to the library. Which way do I go? Up the stairs to find Dad, or back into the rec room to get Mason and Mouse? If Kyle and Ian are still in the rec room they’ll grab me the second I set foot through the door, but I can’t escape with Dad and leave Mason and Mouse behind. We all need to go, together. But I haven’t got long. As soon as Dr Rothwell hears about what happened to Rae he’ll be straight on the radio to the friends and they’ll hunt me down.

  The radio! I completely forgot that Kyle gave me one.

  I reach into my pocket and turn the dial to five, the number Mason was assigned, and then hold it near my mouth as I press the button. ‘Mason, can you hear me?’

  There’s a crackling sound then, ‘I can hear you, please identify yourself. Over.’

  ‘It’s Drew, your sister. Where are you?’

  ‘You didn’t say “over”. Kyle specifically told us to end each conversation with “over” to signify the end of speech.’

  Oh for God’s sake, of all the times to be pedantic, Mason!

  ‘Drew to Mason. Where are you? OVER.’

  ‘At the swimming pool. Over.’

  ‘Where’s Mouse … I mean, Megan? Over.’

  ‘Also at the swimming pool. We are supervising during activity time. OVER.’

  ‘But you can’t …’ I almost drop the radio as an idea so brilliant it’s ridiculous pops into my head.

  ‘Sorry,’ Mason says. ‘I didn’t catch that. Over.’

  I leave him hanging as I shove the radio back into my pocket and pull out the map that Kyle gave us. To the right of the staircase, next to the door to the East Wing is another door. It leads to a long corridor, sandwiched between the assembly room and the isolation rooms then runs along the canteen, past the cinema and straight up to the swimming pool. The sound of a door squeaking on its hinges makes me look up sharply. The door to Mrs H.’s office is opening.

  ***

  I sprint down the corridor, barely glancing to the right as I pass one, two, three, four, five isolation rooms. When I reach the corner I spot a door marked ‘Sanatorium’ and stop running. Through the glass window in the top of the door I can see ten beds, each made up with crisp white sheets and blankets, five along each wall. All of the beds are empty apart from one. Israel is lying on his back on the bed nearest to me, staring at the ceiling, his arms folded behind his head. He looks so fed up and depressed my heart twists in my chest. I can’t leave him behind. I’m pretty certain I said some awful things to him yesterday and I still haven’t forgiven myself for abandoning him the last time I tried to escape.

  ‘Israel?’

  His head turns sharply as I tap on the glass.

  ‘I’m getting you out of here,’ I mouth, praying that he’s well enough to understand me.

  He sits up and glances to his right, towards the door I assume leads to the nurse’s office, then back at me.

  ‘Eh?’ he mouths, shrugging his shoulders.

  ‘I …’ I point to myself. ‘Will … get … you …’ I point to him. ‘Out.’ I gesture towards the windows at the back of the building.

  ‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘You’re a weirdo.’

  ‘I’m not. I’m back to normal. Look.’ I point at my eyes as I blink repeatedly, scrunch them up then roll them from left to right. Israel continues to look wary so I stick my tongue out as far as I can, put my thumbs in my ears and waggle them back and forth, like a four-year-old pulling a silly face.

  And there it is – the mischievous grin he gave me when he asked if he could steal my breakfast.

  I hold up a hand to the window, my fingers splayed. ‘Five minutes.’

  He nods and gives me the thumbs-up.

  Please let this work, I silently pray as I head off again. I duck down as I reach the window to the canteen and continue to run. I speed past the red-brick wall of the cinema and then I’m there, outside the door to the swimming pool. I press my staff pass to the lock and push on the door. It swings open and I’m hit in the face with a blast of warm, humid air.

  There are three students in the pool. Two are splashing each other and messing about and a lone swimmer is ploughing back and forth doing lengths. There’s no one in the lifeguard’s chair, no one sitting on the benches that run along the wall. The only people in the room are me, the kids in the pool and Mouse and Mason, standing with their arms crossed over their chests on the other side of the room, at the deep end.

  ‘No running!’ Mason shouts as I sprint towards them. I ignore him. Across the field Dr Rothwell and Jeff Kinsey are approaching the treatment unit. I don’t have much time.

  ‘Drew!’ Mouse says, turning as I round the pool and speed towards her. ‘What on earth are you –’

  I glance at the huge clock on the opposite wall of the pool then shove her, full force, in the back. Then, before Mason can react, I push him too. They both tip forwards, arms circling wildly as they fight to regain their balance then pitch head first into the water. Mouse screams, a split second before she hits the surface then she’s gone. Mason doesn’t shout. He sinks like a stone.

  The first one to break the surface is Mouse, arms flailing, mouth open, gasping for air. Her terrified eyes latch onto mine for a split second then she’s gone, swallowed by the pool. On the other side of the room the students have stopped playing. They’re standing up in the water, staring at me, mouths agape.

  ‘What happened?’ a rangy, brown-haired boy shouts.

  ‘Should I get help?’ screams a small girl with short, black hair.

  I shake my head. ‘Everything’s under control.’

  But everything is not under control. Whilst Mouse is thrashing about in the water, breaking the surface every couple of seconds to gasp for air, Mason is still underwater. Mouse’s frantic splashing has churned up the water so much I can no longer see the murky green blur of Mason’s overalls at the bottom of the pool. Why hasn’t he come up for air? He’s scared of water but he knows how to swim. Unless – fear grips my stomach – unless he knocked himself out when he fell in or he’s swallowed so much water he’s passed out.

  On the other side of the pool the second hand of the clock is ticking interminably slow. They’ve both been in the water for twenty seconds now. I can only hold my breath for forty-five seconds and that’s if I’m completely relaxed. Every bone in my body is telling me to jump in the water NOW and rescue them both, but if I do it too soon their conditioning won’t be reversed. But if I leave it too long they’ll both drown …

  Twenty-one.

  Twenty-two.

  Twenty-three.
<
br />   Twenty –

  Mouse, her hair spread across the pool like dark seaweed, bobs to the surface. She tips her chin and opens her mouth to breathe but she’s tired and disorientated and gulps down water instead. She coughs – a short, sharp sound like a dog bark – and then disappears back beneath the water, floating down, down, down, her arms and legs splayed and unmoving.

  I can’t wait a second longer.

  SPLASH!

  I dive head first into the water. It’s colder than I thought and my chest constricts as I swim deeper and deeper. My eyes sting as I search the chlorinated water for my brother and best friend. At first all I see are the tiles, grimy and pale, and then I see him, curled up on his side on the bottom of the pool, his eyes closed. I grab hold of his arm, scull until my feet are near the floor and then bend my knees and push against the tiles. I lurch upwards but Mason is so heavy I don’t get anywhere near the surface. I spin around in the water and hook my arm around his shoulder, across his chest and under his other arm and kick with my legs. Progress is slow. Each time I kick, I rise a little higher in the water then sink back down again. My lungs start to burn as I get closer and closer to the surface of the water and then – SMACK – I’m thumped in the side of the head. The force of the kick sends me reeling to one side and Mason slips from my arm and drifts back towards the bottom of the pool. Above me, I can see Mouse, arms and legs flailing, heading towards the side. Someone has thrown her a lifebuoy and she’s been pulled in. I kick with all my strength, gasp for air as my head breaks through the water, and then back down I go. Please, I beg as I grab hold of Mason for the second time, please don’t die. I’d never forgive myself.

  *

  Finally, finally, I manage to pull Mason to the side of the pool. Two of the students who were messing about in the shallow end are standing on the edge, staring down at me, their eyes wide with fear, a lifebuoy at their feet. Mouse is sitting up against the far wall, beneath a red fire alarm box, a towel over her shoulders, her face in her knees. The female student is sitting beside her, stroking her back.

  Mason, still unconscious, lies limply beneath my arm. ‘Help me!’ I scream up at the boys.

  ‘OK, OK.’ The dark-haired boy leaps into action. He crouches down and reaches for Mason’s left arm, gesturing for the other boy to do the same. When I’m one hundred per cent sure that they’ve got a good hold of him I let go and duck out of the way. I watch, clinging onto the handrail, as they haul him out of the water. His slips and slides onto the wet tiles like a large fish being landed in a boat. For several seconds he lies unmoving on the side of the pool, then he suddenly gasps. The sound reverberates off the walls.

  ‘Mason!’ I try to lift myself up and out of the water but all the strength in my arms has gone and one of the boys has to take my hand and yank me out.

  ‘Mason?’ I crawl towards him and touch a hand to his cold cheek. ‘Mason? Are you Ok? Can you hear me?’

  His eyes remain closed, tiny droplets of water glistening on the ends of his dark eyelashes. His green overall looks black, wrapped around his body like a shroud. I reach for his left hand and roll him over into the recovery position.

  ‘Joe, go and get help,’ the boy with dark hair barks.

  ‘No.’ I hold up a hand. ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘What?’ He stares at me in astonishment. ‘But he’s –’

  ‘He’s breathing.’ I press a hand to Mason’s chest. It rises and falls under my palm. ‘He’s going to wake up.’

  ‘He looks unconscious to me.’

  ‘HE’LL WAKE UP.’ I shout so loudly both boys start.

  ‘Mason!’ I shake my brother’s shoulder. ‘Mason, open your eyes!’

  Please, I beg silently. Please open your eyes.

  ‘Drew.’ I jump as someone touches my shoulder.

  ‘Drew,’ Mouse says quietly. ‘Is he OK?’

  ‘I don’t know, he was on the bottom for a …’ I break off, unsettled by the way she’s looking at me. There’s so much compassion in her eyes. So much warmth. Fear and confusion too. Oh my God. She’s back to normal. But that doesn’t matter if I can’t get Mason to wake up. If he’s hurt or brain-damaged I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll never …

  ‘He’s opened his eyes!’ one of the boys squawks. ‘Look! Look, he’s opened his eyes.’

  My brother blinks rapidly several times then his whole body jolts as he raises his arms and lashes out. One fist hits the boy standing over him. The other smacks against my cheekbone and I nearly topple straight back into the pool.

  ‘Mason!’ I wrap my hands around his wrists, struggling to restrain him. ‘Mason, it’s OK. It’s Drew. Mason, it’s Drew. You’re going to be OK.’

  He continues to wriggle and squirm, his eyes wide and terrified, then slowly, slowly the frantic expression on his face fades and his body goes limp.

  ‘Drew?’ His voice is little more than a whisper.

  ‘Yes.’ I lean closer. ‘Yes, it’s me. It’s OK, Mason. You fell in the pool but you’re OK. You’re OK now.’

  He shakes his head. ‘I’m … I’m … I’m really confused … where … what …’

  He’s coming round from the reverse conditioning, I can see the fear and confusion I felt when it happened to me reflected in his eyes.

  ‘How is he even alive?’ I hear one of the boys gasp. ‘I thought he was dead for sure.’

  ‘Diver’s reflex,’ the girl who was with Mouse says from behind me. ‘Didn’t you learn about it in biology? If your face hits cold water you automatically hold your breath and your heart rate slows down. Babies have –’

  ‘Woah, woah. He’s getting up.’

  They all take a step back as my brother shifts onto his knees then, reaching out a hand for me to take, yanks himself up onto his feet.

  ‘Mason, no.’ I clutch hold of him as he sways slightly. ‘You need to sit back down.’

  ‘No, Drew, I’m –’ We all snap round at the sound of a door slamming shut.

  Standing on the other side of the pool, staring straight at me with a look of pure anger, is Stuart.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  ‘Drew?’ Mouse nudges up against me. ‘What’s going on? Why is he staring at you like that?’

  ‘Long story.’ Keeping one hand on Mason’s shoulder, I angle her away from the gawping students and hiss in her ear. ‘We need to get out. Now.’

  ‘He’s …’ Her eyes widen in fear and I glance over my shoulder. Stuart is marching along the length of the pool, shoulders back, chin up like he means business. I scan the room, looking for something, anything, to slow his progress. There’s a net on a long stick but it’s on the wall near the door. The lifeguard chair is bolted to the floor. Other than that the only other things in the room are a couple of damp towels and some buoyancy aids. Unless … I turn sharply and, pushing Mason towards Mouse, leap towards the wall that Mouse was leaning against. I jab two fingers against the small glass panel in the centre of the red box. Nothing happens. The glass stays intact. I jab at it, harder. There’s a small clicking sound, the glass indents and the button presses. An ear-splitting wail immediately fills the air as the fire alarm goes off. I spin round to see Stuart rounding the edge of the pool, his face red with fury, his arms pumping the air as he runs.

  ‘Push him in!’ I scream to the three students who are staring at me with a mixture of astonishment and respect. ‘Now! We’re getting out of here!’

  For one horrible moment I don’t think they’ve heard me above the screech of the fire alarm, but then the taller boy turns and, in one swift movement, he sticks out his foot and pushes Stuart into the pool.

  ‘Quick! This way!’ As Stuart flounders around in the pool, I grab Mason’s hand and pull him after me. He’s completely disorientated and trips several times as we head for the door. Mouse and the three students speed after us. As we approach the door, I peel to the right and reach for the net.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Mouse squeals. ‘He’s getting out of the pool. We need to go!’ />
  ‘We need to smash the lock. So he can’t get back out.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’ The smaller boy – Joe – reaches for the net. ‘Just get the door open and I’ll follow you out when I’ve done it.’

  He doesn’t need to ask me twice. I let go of the pole, wrench the staff pass from around my neck and press it against the lock. The door springs open and we hurry through it.

  ‘Mouse!’ I shout, as we run down the corridor, past the cinema and the canteen. ‘Can you get Israel out of the san? It’s over there!’

  She follows the line of my outstretched hand and nods.

  ‘You guys,’ I shout to the two students, ‘stay with Mouse. She’s got a pass too. She’ll get you out of here.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Mouse shouts, as I loop Mason’s arm over my shoulders and half lollop, half jog past the isolation rooms.

  ‘To get our dad!’

  *

  I stop running as we approach the door to the entrance hall and press my pass to the door. I push it open a tiny crack and listen.

  ‘Our dad?’ Mason whispers. ‘Our dad’s here?’

  I press a finger to my lips to shush him. If we’re going to stand any chance of finding Dad we need to get into the entrance hall and up the stairs without anyone seeing us. As soon as Stuart drags himself out of the pool he’ll do whatever he can to alert Mrs H. and Dr Rothwell. That’s if they don’t already know.

  The fire alarm is so loud it blocks out every other sound. I’m going to have to check that the coast is clear. I hold up a finger to Mason, warning him not to move or breathe, then push on the door, opening it an inch. My heart’s beating so hard in my chest I feel sick.

  All I can see through the gap is the closed door to the library. I push on the door a bit harder, bracing myself to run, but the entrance hall is empty. Mrs H.’s and Dr Rothwell’s doors are both ajar, as though they left in a hurry.

  ‘Quick,’ I signal to Mason to follow me. ‘We need to run.’

  *

  I take the steps two at a time, using the bannister to wrench myself upwards. By the time we reach the second floor we’re both gasping and Mason is deathly pale.