The Treatment

by C. L. Taylor

  I touch his arm. ‘Are you OK?’

  He nods stoically, too out of breath to speak, and gestures at the lock next to the staff quarters door. He doesn’t need to ask me twice. I touch my pass against it then push on the door. A long corridor opens out before me. There are at least ten or eleven doors to our left, all of them closed, and a smooth wall to our right. When I saw the silhouette in the window, watching me jog around the running track and again when I was dragged to the treatment unit, it was somewhere near the middle of the building. I gesture for Mason to follow me then knock on the fifth door.

  ‘Dad!’ I shout. ‘Dad, are you in there?’

  There are keyholes in each door and no locking units. We can’t get in unless Dad lets us.

  ‘Dad?’ I wait for a couple of seconds then move onto the next door.

  ‘Dad!’ I pound on the wood with both fists. ‘It’s Drew and Mason!’

  Nothing. I look up and down the corridor, half expecting an angry friend to burst out of one of the doors but they all remain closed. The fire alarm is still wailing. If anyone’s after us we won’t be able to hear them thudding up the stairs. We can’t get caught now. Not when we’re so close to finding Dad.

  ‘Mason!’ I shout. ‘Help me!’

  He leaps forward and bangs on door number seven. I overtake him and bang on door number eight. When door number seven remains closed, Mason heads for door number nine and pounds his fist and feet against it. His face is pinched with tension. Where the hell is Dad? Dr Rothwell told me he was up here.

  I bang on door number ten as Mason bangs on door number eleven, then we run back up the corridor and smash our fists against the first four doors. Where is he? Where’s Dad? My eyes prick with tears as I thump on door five again. There’s no way he could ignore the noise we’re making. He’s not in any of these rooms. Doctor Rothwell must have lied to me.

  ‘Where is he?’ Mason shouts over the din of the fire alarm.

  I shake my head. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You said he was up here, Drew.’

  ‘I know … but … but …’ I look desperately up and down the corridor. Mouse, Israel and the other three will be waiting for us in the entrance hall, if they haven’t already escaped. The longer we stay up here the more chance there is of us getting caught, but I can’t leave without finding Dad. Eight years. That’s how long he’s been missing. I can’t go back home, torturing myself that it’s him each time the doorbell rings or running into the living room when I get home from school just in case he’s sitting on the sofa, waiting for me. He’s not dead. I know he’s not dead. Dr Rothwell knows where he is but he’s not here, he’s not bloody here.

  I pound my fists into the door as eight years of loss, grief and sorrow explode out of me.

  ‘Drew!’ Mason grabs me round the waist and tries to pull me away. ‘Drew, stop it! Your knuckles are bleeding. Drew!’

  He might be stronger than me normally but he’s no match for the rage I feel inside and I don’t budge an inch as I continue to punch the door, blind to the blood that streaks the pale wood.

  ‘Dad!’ I scream. ‘Dad!’

  ‘He’s not here!’ Mason shouts in my ear. ‘He’s not here. We need to go.’

  Using all his strength, he hauls me away from the door and frogmarches me towards the stairs. I try to put up a fight, to wriggle out of his grip, but all the fight has gone out of me and I’m as weak as a kitten. Dad’s not here. He’s not here. He’s never coming home.

  I twist in Mason’s arms as he carries me through the doorway, and look back at the corridor.

  ‘Mason!’ His name catches in my throat. ‘A door. A door’s opened.’

  My brother looks over his shoulder. ‘They’re still shut, Drew.’

  ‘No.’ I pull against him. ‘No, they’re not. Door five just opened a crack. I can see it.’

  ‘Drew, it’s not –’

  I duck down and out of his arms and sprint down the corridor.

  ‘Drew!’ he shouts, running after me. ‘You have to stop this you. You have to –’ A gasp steals the words from his mouth and he stops running.

  Standing in the doorway of the fifth bedroom is a tall man with dark hair, peppered with grey, with thick black eyebrows, a straggly beard and wide, staring blue eyes. He’s dressed in a navy blue suit, white shirt and grey tie and he’s wearing a single, shiny black shoe on his left foot. Beneath the other trouser leg there’s a curve of black steel.

  ‘Dad?’ The word is a whisper.

  He turns his head to look from me to Mason. A tiny frown appears between his brows but, otherwise, his expression is completely blank.

  ‘Dad,’ I say again, louder this time. ‘Dad, it’s me. Drew. And Mason.’

  I am trembling from head to foot and I feel so light-headed I have to steady myself on the wall. I can’t believe it’s really him. That he’s standing right in front of me. I want to touch him but I’m scared that, if I do, he’ll disappear.

  ‘Dad!’ Mason says. ‘Dad, say something!’

  The frown between Dad’s eyebrows deepens. He looks confused and as disorientated as I feel. He’s either drugged, brain-damaged or brainwashed.

  ‘Dad.’ I slowly reach out a hand, terrified that if I move too suddenly he’ll bolt back into his room and lock the door. My fingers graze one of his frayed jacket cuffs. ‘Dad, you need to come with us.’

  He turns his head slowly to look at me then starts, as though seeing me for the first time. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Drew. Drew Finch. I’m your daughter. This is Mason, your son.’

  ‘No.’ He shakes his head and takes a step backwards into his room, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. ‘My children are small.’

  ‘We’re teenagers now,’ Mason says, leaping forwards and reaching for Dad’s hand. Dad snatches it away as though stung and the pain on my brother’s face is more than I can bear.

  ‘You’re my children?’ Dad looks back at me. His eyes are a void, empty and uncomprehending, but then something seems to spark in the dark pupils and I see a flash of the man I love. ‘You’re …’ He reaches out a hand and, for a heartbreaking second I think he’s going to touch my cheek, but then his hand falls away again. ‘I remember you. I saw you in …’ He clutches the side of his head and winces as though he’s in pain. ‘I tried to help you. I was in the CCTV room and … Aaarggh.’ He doubles over, his arms wrapped around his head.

  ‘Dad! What’s the matter?’ I hook an arm across his bent back and squeeze him tightly. He recoils at my embrace and drops to his knees, still nursing his head, his teeth gritted against the pain.

  Mason tugs on my arm. ‘Drew, we need to get him out of here. Quickly!’

  ‘I know, I know!’

  I crouch down beside my dad, who is still whimpering with pain. ‘Dad, we need to leave.’

  He shakes his head and, using his desk for support, pulls himself back onto his feet.

  ‘We need to get out of here!’

  ‘Leave? No, I like it here. And I must finish my work.’ He gestures at the piles of books, research papers and notepads filled with his big, looping handwriting. When he looks back at me, his eyes have dulled again. He’s looking at me as though I’m a stranger.

  ‘What’s that noise?’ He grimaces and looks up at the ceiling, as though hearing the fire alarm for the first time. ‘I don’t like that noise. I can’t concentrate with that racket going on.’

  ‘We can make it stop,’ I shout. I reach for his hand then think the better of it. ‘But you need to come with us first. Dr Rothwell wants to see you.’

  ‘Dr Rothwell?’ His spine straightens as he pulls himself up to his full six feet. He’s suddenly alert and interested. ‘Did you say Dr Rothwell?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mason shouts from behind me. ‘He wants to see you. We’re taking you to see him.’

  ‘Will I need my notes?’ He reaches for a green notebook.

  ‘No, no. Just you. Come on, Dad, I mean, Dr Finch. Please hurry. He needs to s
ee you urgently.’

  *

  Dad takes the stairs so slowly I could scream. I know he can move faster than this, despite his artificial leg, but he doesn’t feel the same sense of urgency as us. As far as he’s concerned, he’s going for a nice little chat with ‘his boss’ Dr Rothwell and I have to cajole him into hurrying. When we reach the bottom of the second set of stairs, I hold out an arm, signalling him to stop, then peer around the stairwell and into the entrance hall.

  Lacey and Jude are standing against the front door, feet splayed wide, hands behind their backs.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  ‘Going somewhere?’ Lacey smirks, as I step from the stairs onto the polished wooden floor of the entrance hall.

  ‘This is to do with you, isn’t it?’ Jude says, waving a hand around as the fire alarm echoes off the wood-clad walls. ‘We knew it was.’

  ‘We can take them,’ Mason hisses, as we slowly walk towards them. ‘You grab Lacey, I’ll deal with Jude.’

  ‘That’s not going to be necessary.’ I glance to my left, to check on Dad. But he’s not by my side. He’s wandered off and is standing outside Dr Rothwell’s open office door looking puzzled.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Jude asks, looking.

  Lacey sneers as she looks him up and down, taking in his worn suit, straggly beard and messy hair. As her gaze reaches his feet, her jaw drops and she stares at me, wide eyed.

  ‘Is that your dad? I thought you said he was dead.’

  ‘I never said that.’

  ‘Yes you did, you liar.’

  I ignore her. ‘What are you doing here?’

  She tilts her head to one side and smiles tightly. ‘I could ask you the same question.’

  ‘Just move, Lacey.’

  ‘Oh, look at you,’ she says in her sneering sing-song voice, ‘thinking you’re some kind of hard ass because you locked someone in her room and then set off the fire alarm.’ She nudges Jude, who laughs.

  ‘Give us the pass, Andrew,’ Jude says, holding out her hand. ‘If you’re leaving we’re leaving too.’

  ‘I’m not giving you anything.’

  She glares up at me, nostrils flaring, lips pulled tightly over her teeth. ‘Give us the pass or we’ll radio Dr Rothwell and tell him that you, your skanky brother and that tramp you call your dad –’

  Mason lurches forward. ‘What did you just call my dad?’

  ‘Mason!’ I grab his arm. ‘No.’

  Jude’s a weaselly excuse for a human being but I won’t let my brother touch her. We won’t sink to her level. I’ve done that before and I won’t do it again.

  ‘Radio Dr Rothwell?’ I say. ‘You haven’t got a …’

  Lacey moves one of her hands from behind her back. She waggles a black radio in front of my face then whips it back behind her.

  ‘Mouse isn’t the only thief round here,’ Jude says. ‘We found it in a drawer in Mrs H.’s office.’

  ‘How did you get out of the rec room?’ I ask. ‘All the doors are locked.’

  ‘When the fire alarm went off one of the new friends propped the doors to the library and the entrance hall open. She didn’t bother closing them when Abi told her that we needed to assemble on the running track out the back. Everyone was so hysterical it was easy to double back. Anyway –’ she feigns a yawn and holds out a hand ‘– give me the pass.’

  ‘No, I don’t trust you.’

  ‘That makes two of us. Give it to me or I’ll take it off you.’

  ‘I won’t let you.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ She casts a scornful look at Mason. ‘You and whose army?’

  ‘This army.’

  I whip round at the sound of Mouse’s voice and there they are, Mouse, Israel and the three students, filing out of the door that leads to the isolation rooms. They must have been hiding behind the door this whole time, watching and waiting. I’m so pleased to see them I could scream with joy, instead I turn back to Lacey and Jude.

  ‘Get out of my way.’

  ‘We’ll just come after you,’ Jude whines, as she steps away from the door. ‘You can’t stop us.’

  ‘They can’t stop you from doing what?’ a shrill female voice says and any joy I feel instantly turns to dread. Mrs H. and Dr Rothwell are standing in the door to the library, holding a radio in each hand.

  ‘Nobody move,’ Dr Rothwell says. He scans the room, jolting as his gaze rests on Dad, still standing obediently outside his office. ‘David, what are you doing here?’

  ‘I was told that you wanted to speak to me.’

  ‘And who told you that, I wonder?’ His dark eyes fix on me.

  ‘Dr Rothwell …’ Lacey skirts around me and heads towards the library door. ‘Dr Rothwell, I can explain –’

  ‘We both can,’ Jude says, moving away from Mason and heading towards Mrs H. ‘It’s not what it looks like. We were actually trying to –’

  ‘Stay where you are!’ Dr Rothwell barks.

  We don’t move a muscle, but Lacey and Jude continue to stalk across the entrance hall.

  ‘I’m warning, you girls,’ Dr Rothwell says, ‘stop walking and stand still.’

  ‘We need to tell you something,’ Lacey says, but she’s interrupted by a sharp screech from Mrs H.

  ‘Listen to Dr Rothwell!’

  She’s scared, I realize with surprise. Instead of congregating outside like good little sheep we’ve broken away from the pack. She’s not in control any more. Dr Rothwell looks worried too.

  Jude and Lacey exchange a look of irritation and hasten their pace. Mrs H. and Dr Rothwell aren’t used to losing control but the girls aren’t used to being ignored. As they get closer, the fire alarm stops as quickly as it started and a strange eerie silence fills the large hall.

  ‘We can explain everything,’ Lacey says, holding out the radio to Dr Rothwell. ‘It’s not what it looks –’

  Dr Rothwell raises his arm and presses what I thought was a radio against the side of Lacey’s neck. There is a flash of blue and a crackling sound then her hands drop, her head tips back, her mouth opens and she screams. A second later, she drops to the floor.

  ‘What the –’ Jude stops dead and stares at her friend in horror. ‘You tasered her,’ she says, open-mouthed as she looks at Doctor Rothwell. ‘I can’t believe you –’

  This time it’s Mrs H. who raises her taser. With Jude’s attention focused on Dr Rothwell there’s no time for her to react or move out of the way and she too jolts, screams and then crumples to the floor.

  No one says a word. The only sounds are low groans from Lacey and Jude as they squirm on the floorboards.

  Dr Rothwell regards them dispassionately then sighs. ‘Mrs H., can you radio the nurse. She needs to take these two to the san.’ He looks across at the rest of us. ‘You lot, head in that direction.’ He nods his head towards the door that leads to the isolation rooms.

  No one moves.

  ‘Go!’ Dr Rothwell shouts, brandishing his taser. ‘Now!’

  The male students exchange a look, shrug and shuffle across the floorboards, heads hung low.

  ‘And you two.’ Dr Rothwell points to Mouse and the female student who are clutching each other like they’ll never let go. ‘They made me do that,’ Dr Rothwell says, gesturing towards Jude and Lacey. ‘They were coming for me. I had no choice but to defend myself.’

  The girl looks at Mouse. ‘I’ll go if you go.’

  Mouse shakes her head. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘Neither am I,’ I say.

  ‘Count me out,’ Israel says.

  ‘And me,’ Mason adds.

  I brace myself, waiting for the inevitable attack but, instead of brandishing his taser, Dr Rothwell gathers it into his hand, holds out his arm and points at Dad.

  ‘David!’

  Dad turns away from the open office door. He smiles as he sees Dr Rothwell’s face.

  ‘What are you going to do to him?’ I shout.

  ‘I’m going to give him a taser,’ Dr Rothwell says.
‘And you’re going to watch as he holds it to his own neck and presses the button. Maybe when you realize how futile this ridiculous escape attempt is you’ll all DO AS YOU’RE BLOODY TOLD!’

  ‘David!’ He crooks his finger. ‘Come over here. I’d like you to give yourself a little shock, purely for scientific purposes, of course.’

  ‘No!’ Mason leaps away from me and speeds across the hall towards Dr Rothwell. He launches himself at the older man, fists flying, but Dr Rothwell’s too quick for him, he lunges to his left then, with one swift movement, chops his hand against Mason’s windpipe. My brother’s hands fly to his throat, his legs give way beneath him and he drops to his knees. He makes a barking sound like a seal as he clutches his throat desperately trying to breathe.

  Mrs H. raises her radio to just below her chin. ‘Hello, is that Sally? We’ve got two students in the hallway who need medication attention. They’ve both had small electric shocks. Over.’

  She lowers the radio and gazes across the room, smiling as her eyes meet mine. ‘Sorry, did I say two? I actually meant three.’

  ‘No!’ I scream as she crouches beside Mason and presses the taser against the back of his neck.

  I move quickly, but not as quickly as Mrs H. She springs back up as I launch myself at her and throws out an arm. I feel a sharp pain in my cheek as her rings scrape across my skin. The force of the blow knocks me off balance and I fall, smacking my face against a small side table before I hit the ground. My top lip feels warm and damp and when I touch my nose my fingers are covered in blood.

  ‘Come along, David,’ Dr Rothwell says, walking towards my dad. ‘The nurse will clear up the mess. Let’s get you back upstairs to your room. We’ve got some important work to do tomorrow.’

  ‘No, Dad!’ I shout as he stares at the headmaster. He looks confused, disorientated and unsteady on his feet. ‘Dad, don’t go with him.’

  ‘Run, Dad!’ Mason screams. ‘Please, please run.’

  But our dad doesn’t run. He takes a step towards Dr Rothwell, his face soft and trusting, his eyes glassy and fixed.

  ‘That’s it,’ Dr Rothwell says. ‘Take it nice and easy, David. I know it’s been upsetting, everything that’s happened today, but we can have a little chat tomorrow and make sure you forget all about it.’