The Loss of Some Detail

by Mandi Martin

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Will you get that?” Anneliese looked up from staring at the soft glow of the screen as the bell broke her concentration and the heavy tones from the radio. “I’m trying to finish my homework.”

  “Never bothered you before,” her younger brother grumbled, tossing his comic onto the well frayed cushion as he rolled himself onto the floor. “Bet you’re looking at porn.”

  “I am not; you’re the one who probably does that, if you even know what it is!” The bell sounded again, longer this time, followed by a sharp knocking. “Just get it, will you? Maybe mom and dad forget their keys, you know how wound up he gets about these benefit things.”

  “Fine,” James got to his feet and slouched towards the door, pausing in the hallway. “And why would look at that stuff? Girls are gross. And you can’t be working either, listening to that.”

  “If people can work listening to the Spice Girls then I can work listening to Titanium Ghost.”

  “You only listen because you fancy the lead singer,” James retorted loudly as he wandered into the gloom of the hallway.

  Anneliese frowned and leant around to call after him.

  “The fact he’s hot is just a bonus, besides I can only drool can’t I? Dante doesn’t like girls,” she looked at the cover photo of the album with a girlish grin, hearing the click as the catch was lifted.

  “Aren’t a lot of his fans girls?”

  “Never mind.”

  Anneliese sat back in the chair, clicking the spellcheck of the document she was working on, ignoring the muffled talk from outside, assuming it was one of the neighbours coming to check on them. At fourteen it was irritating to think their parents still needed to employ Big Brother to keep an eye of things.

  “Anneliese?” She looked up to see James had returned, looking puzzled as he stood in the doorway fidgeting “can you come here?”

  “What is it? Charity hawker?”

  “Police.”

  The smile abruptly faded from her lips and she slammed the laptop shut to hurry to the open door, the air freezing as it blew in.

  Two men in dark clothing stood there looking somewhat impatient, the one tapping his foot sharply against the stone step.

  As she emerged the sharp-eyed man to the right flashed a badge, too swiftly for her to see it properly in the gloom.

  “Miss Grey? You’re Stephen and Gemma’s daughter, correct?” His voice was cutting and had a cold, clinical edge to it, his impenetrable eyes and inscrutable countenance giving little away.

  “Y-yes, Sir,” Anneliese stammered, her eyes flitting from one to the other. “Do-do you want to come in?”

  “No.” The answer was terse. “You need to come with us, both of you.”

  Anneliese frowned, edging neared to her brother protectively. Despite the official look to the badge, what she had been able to catch sight of, something seemed odd. Yet maybe she was being paranoid.

  She swallowed, looking up as confidently as she could in an attempt to portray the composed adult she tried to be.

  “Could you at least tell me what this is about? Our parents aren’t here and I’d be an idiot to drag my brother out without knowing, even if you are police.”

  “We know your parents aren’t here,” the second man spoke up, dark blond hair framing his face. “That’s why we’ve come; there’s been a…incident. Nothing serious, just a robbery, sad to say that’s a risk when you’re a success in the banking world. We just need you to come back to the station, they haven’t been able to contact anyone and they don’t want you alone.”

  Anneliese paled, her rosy cheeks fading to ashen ivory as she nodded, feeling James cling to her arm as he tried to process the words also. She moved her hand to stroke his hair, brushing it away from the mismatched eyes before patting his shoulder encouragingly.

  “Go fetch your coat, James, and mine,” she caught hold of him as he turned to obey, smiling comfortingly. “Don’t worry, it’ll be OK.”

  The latter words seemed to be a muttered prayer to convince herself more than him.

  “Of course it will,” the older man said tersely. “You’ll be back before you know it.”

  Only James noticed the mysterious smile that passed between the pair as he reached towards the coat rack. Slowly he took the both thick jackets from the pegs, fastening the buttons of his own as he rejoined his sister, his feet feeling heavy as though his shoes were lined with weights and trying to restrain him.

  “Sweet, let’s go.”

  The winter wind sliced neatly through them like razor blades as they stepped from the warmth of the house and into the night.

  “Why isn’t your car marked?” James asked as he shut the door and looked to where a black hatchback was parked askew on the kerbside.

  “Because there was no emergency and it would just cause alarm to have a fully equip car draw up, wouldn’t it?”

  In the children’s mind the answer made sense.

  The first man opened the door, letting out the scent of stale smoke which had been clinging to the leather upholstery.

  “Better than the smell of a damp dog,” he commented with a dismissive shrug. “Even worse if they piss in the back.”

  Anneliese chuckled nervously at the words and clambered in, sliding across to make room for James beside her. The empty cigarette packet stuffed between the chairs didn’t strike her as something police would have but maybe it was just from a previous occupant and they hadn’t noticed.

  “Get in the middle,” the man ordered James. “You’ll need someone in the back with you.”

  “OK.”

  James’s voice was not above a whisper as he shuffled to his sister; even the lightest of breezes would have masked it. He sat tensely beside her, entwining his fingers with her own.

  The sound of the doors locking jarred him and his muscles contracted even more, sounding so loud in the silence of the night.

  Nothing stirred as the engine purred into life, the only movement the shaking of Anneliese’s hand as they set off down the street, the roads seeming luminous from the bright lights of the lamps and glow from peaceful houses reflecting from the residue of recent rain.

  It was a good ten minutes before the silence was broken. Anneliese’s voice was shaky and tinged with fear as she looked away from the window.

  “Sir, this isn’t the right way, I know where the station is.”

  There was no answer.

  They had turned left at the main island and headed down into the backstreets, the places were illicit drug deals took place and alcoholics loitered after hours. There were hardly any lights since they had been smashed long ago and even the police didn’t like patrolling there.

  Abandoned building loomed above, grey and sombre and blocking the moon and the smattering of stars in the inky sky.

  “Let us out…”

  “Shut your mouth or I’ll cut it from ear to ear!” The flash of a blade reflected in the blond man’s eyes as he withdrew it from the concealed pocket, pointing it toward her threateningly.

  “But where are you taking us?”

  “Shut it!”

  The tip of the knife touched James’s neck and instantly Anneliese snapped her lips shut to form a thin line, her jaw tensed.

  James looked at her helplessly, knowing she was feeling as hopeless and terrified as he was as the car continued towards the bleak industrial estate, the buildings empty and falling apart. The headlights reflected off shards of glass from smashed windows, illuminating crude graffiti sprayed on the stone.

  The tyres squealed to a halt outside one of the dingy structures, the iron that had once covered the door rusted and hanging loose.

  The man driving turned to look at them, his expression concealed by the shadows.

  “Try to run and you’ll end up like your parents, both of whom you’re about to see, part of them anyway, my friend here works wonder with a blade.”

  It had been easy enough to lure the adults away with the threat o
f harm to the children, to force them to hand over the money they had and the codes to the safe that was in the house. Neither had expected the pair to be there, assuming they would be staying elsewhere with other relatives, from their observations that normally occurred.

  They had long ago discovered that petty crime didn’t pay and left them open to an easy arrest. A slower and more methodical approach could be tedious but the reward was great. Their targets were always scouted, making certain that they were successful but widely unknown; a famous face would be lucrative but too risky.

  James felt a strong grip on his collar as he was dragged from the seat. He kicked out, trying to wriggle free but instead the grip tightened, the fabric squeezing his airways and choking him into a reluctant submission.

  Anneliese followed, her entire body trembling as she watched her brother being used as a pawn, a lure to get her to obey. She wouldn’t leave him, even if their relationship was strained like any siblings, she was his sister and she should have protected him.

  ‘I should’ve known better…’

  Her thoughts were all of self blame as she proceeded into the dark of the warehouse, the clinging air thick with dust and the scent of decay.

  The next few hours were a blur of pain, violation and despair.

  Anneliese vomited as she saw the mutilated corpses that had once been their parents. Those arms that had embraced them on so many occasions draped over split bodied, hanging on by stretched tendons.

  She couldn’t even muster a scream one of the men shoved her back onto the filthy floor, pinning her with his bodyweight as her brother watched, the offending knife shoved into his hand.

  ‘Whose prints will it have now? It’ll be easy to concoct a story of a retarded child who lost it.’

  James eyes glazed over, trying to leave his body, the coldness and terror weighty enough to crush his heart.

  This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t here, he was far away. Just a witness in a nightmarish dream who was envisioning the scene unfold. A simple turn of thought could change this.

  Picture it, picture it! Go away, to an island lost in times gone by, safe at sea with these fiends locked away. He was the guard with the key.

  He vaguely heard noise about him as he began to fade but they were overshadowed by the sounds of a powerful ocean.

  “What the hell is wrong with him?”

  Anneliese was pushed away, sobbing violently as the man looked around at James who had begun to slump, eyes wide but vacant.

  “The kids just crazy; kill him, she ain’t going to talk if she knows what’s good for her and he isn’t good for anything.”

  The blond glared at him and shook his head defiantly.

  “No way, I don’t kill children. There’s a line I don’t cross.”

  They turned and watched as James slowly sank down, falling into the waves he had created. He heard no more, not the silky voice of a stranger whose long hair brushed his cooling skin, the blaring sirens or his sisters’ pleas.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “What happened after that?”

  The doctor looked up from the pile of notes on the desk to the woman sat opposite, her hands folded but jittery in her lap.

  “We were found by a homeless man,” Anneliese continued, a diamante tear sparkling in her eye. “I say man; they had such long hair it was impossible to tell, but they kept us occupied, talking on and on about a partner and his ambles about the cemeteries.”

  She gave a sorrowful sigh, her hair falling forward as her head dropped. She had been through this so often and yet it never became any easier. Sometimes it felt as though it only became worse, seeing him lying there with tubes and fluids keeping him alive.

  “James wasn’t there anymore, he just sank into sleep. You’ve seen yourself, he has moments of lucidity but much of the time he just seems lost to the world.”

  The doctor nodded patiently as he scanned the notes, trying to keep a neutral expression even though the descriptions were repulsive even to him.

  “I read to him,” she said mournfully “I don’t want him to wake with the mind of a child so I’ve tried all sorts of books, the history ones he used to love and I’ve told him about those he knew, the good and the bad. Even about the friend he once had, poor girl was terribly abused but she’s moved on, just like I want him to move on, like we both need to.”

  Seeing the man nod sparked a small hope inside her, one lone star in an otherwise eternal night.

  “It may do, most experts say that the brain is still receptive even if the body isn’t. It’s how hypnosis is supposed to work.”

  “I don’t understand how this happened,” Anneliese gave a sigh and the tear finally fell “I went through Hell also but my reactions…”

  “The mind is strange and unique to each person,” the doctor answered softly, pushing a box of tissues towards her. “Clearly he felt that to escape his demons he needed to leave reality entirely. They call it a sleeping beauty syndrome, at least in layman’s words, some term it parasomnia. It’s a wide spectrum.”

  “Sometimes I think he sees me. His eyes open and he looks at me as if he’s returned for a while but then he just sinks away again, almost as if he’s afraid.”

  Anneliese took a fragile Kleenex and blew her nose, more tears soaking into it. Over the years she had cried enough to fill a well but weeping wasn’t going to help anyone.

  “He’s been like this a long time, it will be a shock to his system when he wakes,” the doctor looked thoughtful “I’ve even heard of cases where people have lived entirely different lives in their dreams. He’ll have a lot to get used to but I’m certain it can be done and we will work with you each step of the way.”

  “I would say it’s up to the gods,” Anneliese whispered and she slowly got to her feet and reached to gather her bag, “but I can’t, our fates are ours and decided by the paths we choose when they are offered. Unfortunately they cross other people’s bad trails.”

  Her hand shook and the faux leather bag tipped over with the contents slipping from inside. She muttered crossly, leaning to push them back in.

  “The Victorians?” The doctor smiled as he noticed the title of the book she carried. “Interesting topic, I suppose you learn things while you read to him as well.”

  “James always enjoyed history,” Anneliese said as she fingered the book tenderly “I want him to enjoy what gets through to him.”

  Shouldering the bag she nodded her goodbye and headed towards the light of the exit, her heels clicking in tandem with the beep of many monitors.

  She paused once, looking through the glass of a door at the ghostly pale figure that lay prone and unconscious, almost camouflaged against the white of the starched sheets. She pressed a hand against the coolness of the door, swallowing her sadness.

  No longer was the bony form the brother who had brought such joy and annoyance to her in their younger years.

  “Fight on, James,” she whispered, “please wake and we will move on.”

  It seemed an age. Standing there listening to the hypnotic beep that never ceased, that counted the heartbeats that gave her hope.

  Hope sprang eternal after all.

  Copyright

  Published by Clink Street Publishing 2020

  Copyright © 2020

  First edition.

  The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that with which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ISBNs:

  978–1–913340–37–7 paperback

  978–1–913340–38–4 ebook