Release Candidate

by Aziz, M.

  ‘I think you should all go in before you leave.’ said Prof Barber.

  Marilyn nodded. Estela returned the tissue to her nose.

  They stood before a sleeping, gowned Tomás held in place by black straps around his forearms and calves. Estela walked up to his head. She patted his scalp. Marilyn pushed her face towards his. Kneeling down, she moved her mouth towards his ear.

  ‘I have no idea if you can hear me.’ she whispered. ‘I hope this is no one other than you, Tomás. I’m just here to say this could be it. Could, okay?’ she squeezed his hand.

  ‘But you know how I feel about you,’ her voice broke up, ‘in any form.’ a tear fell to her lips.

  The only animation came from the steady rise and fall of his chest.

  Estela kissed his forehead. She and Marilyn walked towards the door. Alberto walked forward to touch Tomás’s face.

  ‘Come back when it’s dark.’ said Prof Barber.

  Alberto nodded. Dr Klimek opened the door. They exited in single file.

  Tomás opened an eyelid. He unclasped his balled right hand to reveal a metal nail file. Beyond the door the muffled echo of speech was punctuated by the odd footstep.

  He adjusted the file into a gripping position then looked at the door. After a pause he stabbed diagonally backwards into his hand strap. The rapid series of pokes occasionally hit his thigh and grew a small cluster of maroon dots on the gown.

  Upon piercing part of the strap he rapidly moved his forearm side to side, causing the leather gash to flex. The blur of talk had just disappeared with the steps petering in volume.

  With his hands soon freed he quickly sliced the lower straps and sprung out of bed.

  File still in hand, he raided his bedside drawers. Only his rising heartbeat was audible as he hurriedly slipped into his shirt. The jeans went on omitting the belt. He slipped into his shoes minus socks with laces pushed under his feet.

  Running towards the door he banged a shoulder hard into it. Loud voices preceded the return of footsteps. He stepped aside. The lock slowly crackled. The door remained shut for a few more seconds. Then slightly opened.

  Tomás yanked it fully. Dr Klimek stumbled into the room.

  ‘What the?’ shouted Prof Barber.

  Tomás shot down the corridor. He saw the latter half of Alberto enter the lift. The metal mouth had nearly shut when he reached the end. Shoving an arm through the gap he grabbed onto a thick muscle. Estela screamed. The doors retracted.

  ‘H-how?’ shouted Alberto, turning his head. His expression was trapped between a smile and shock.

  Hearing a messy rhythm of footsteps, Tomás pulled Alberto out. He wrapped one arm around Alberto’s chest. His free hand hovered the file’s tip against his neck.

  Dr Klimek and Prof Barber’s feet slammed as they braked metres away.

  ‘Better leave your phones alone if you don’t wanna mess the floor!’

  Prof Barber held up a hand. ‘Just drop that. He’s family.’

  ‘Do I look fuckin’ retarded?’

  ‘We are not your enemies.’ said Dr Klimek.

  ‘Sure you’re not.’

  The lift doors closed. Tomás slammed call. Marilyn and Estela held each other tightly against the back of the lift. They emitted high squeals. Tomás felt Alberto shiver.

  ‘Dr Goldberg needs lessons about where he dumps certain things.’ he twirled the file. ‘He shouldn’t have been so slow between the cuffs and the straps.’

  ‘You must have a reason for doing this.’ said Prof Barber.

  ‘I’m ready to check out, just me and him. Keep your distance and this bit of metal stays clean.’

  ‘This isn’t you!’ screamed Marilyn.

  ‘Babe, chill!’

  Alberto stopped shivering. He stood straight.

  Prof Barber stepped forward.

  ‘Didn’t you fuckin’ hear what I said?’ the file touched Alberto’s neck. ‘I can do more than just hurt him.’

  Prof Barber reversed.

  Alberto looked back into Tomás’s eyes. ‘There is no smile on his face. This bastard will not spare me.’

  Tomás imperceptibly loosened his grip. The doors closed again. He pressed call.

  ‘Ladies, not got all day!’

  The women slid against the left side of the lift and out. They stood between the four men.

  ‘Now, I’m sure both you gentlemen don’t use shitty public transport. So come on, out!’

  Prof Barber laughed.

  ‘This ain’t fuckin’ comedy hour!’

  Silence.

  Dr Klimek hurriedly dug a hand into a pocket. He dangled a keyring before throwing it. Tomás caught it with the hand around Alberto.

  Prof Barber narrowed his eyes at Dr Klimek.

  ‘Right. If I see so much as one stick when I go down, well...’

  ‘No one sane would do what you’re trying.’ said Prof Barber. ‘You need treatment, Mr Gabino.’

  The lift sealed again.

  ‘I expect sirens once I’m on the road. I’m damn sure I’m getting there at most. And you’re not about to let me refuse treatment, are you? You know if I do him here you ain’t seeing your name in history books!’

  ‘You can’t be doing this just to hurt us.’ said Marilyn.

  ‘I’m not about to give up on breathing now, babe. So be it like this.’

  ‘No a bad boy, can’t do!’

  ‘You don’t know what’s going on in my head! Take a good look at this body and this scene! Dr Klimek, how about describing your wheels? Don’t bullshit now or you’ll find a corpse outside!’

  ‘Grey Ford in staff area. You won’t miss it.’

  ‘Good man. You know, you guys should encourage self-healing. Wave at the people, Dad.’

  ‘Just give me your orders, son.’

  Tomás pulled Alberto aside. He pressed call. They walked sideways into the lift.

  ‘Mum, Marilyn. These people are gonna stay on my back unless I show I don’t need them.’

  Prof Barber ran to the lift entrance. ‘This isn’t about passing or failing. Dialogue is more useful than what you’re doing.’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ he pressed G. Tomás’s view changed to brushed silver.

  ‘We’re not just going to stand here, are we?’ asked Dr Klimek.

  Prof Barber walked towards Marilyn. ‘I’d place a bet on your husband slipping up! He hasn’t done himself any favours.’

  ‘He can’t have got outside yet!’ she replied.

  ‘You want both men out of your life, do you? There’s no doubt, take a look at Dr Klimek’s face. He won’t give a damn about his signature if we go guns blazing. I’m trying to minimise damage here!’

  Dr Klimek looked down.

  ‘It’s a given Tomás will look after him for the time being.’ continued Prof Barber. ‘If I don’t waste time getting to the police, make them see we’re dealing with an unstable person, things should go in our favour.’

  ‘There’s a female officer...’ said Dr Klimek.

  ‘And?’ replied Prof Barber.

  ‘The one who found him.’ replied Marilyn. ‘She came to me and plans a stop here. She’s not buying any more bull. And neither am I.’

  Prof Barber slapped his forehead. ‘Does she, you know?’

  ‘Do you think you’d be standing here?’

  ‘Fuck thing!’ screamed Estela. ‘Tomás with God! This some monster!’

  ‘Okay,’ Prof Barber breathed out, ‘we can turn things around and still keep our lips sealed, I think. Christ, what sort of bloody omen did I see today? There is nothing else for you to do here and you’d be more useful by your line. I’m not straying from this situation, so no need to get worked up.’

  Marilyn grabbed Estela’s hand. She pulled her towards the lift. Estela shook free of the hold. Prof Barber squinted as Estela walked up to him. She used both hands to slap his chest. He remained as still as possible.

  Seconds later she stopped and took deep breaths. She followed Marilyn into the lift
.

  ‘I’ll try and get through to that station.’ said Dr Klimek. He walked to the treatment room.

  Prof Barber stood where he was. He buried his face in his hands.

  Tomás looked either side before slamming the car door. He pulled the file out of his pocket and waved it at Alberto who gently closed his side. Tomás wound his window down. He threw out the file. Their seatbelts clicked in harmony.

  ‘You can relax, Dad.’

  The car hummed.

  ‘I planned to.’

  ‘Huh?’ he reversed the car.

  ‘You do not squeeze like a kidnapper should.’ his eyes locked on the steering wheel. ‘I do not remember you getting lessons?’

  ‘There’s a reason for that, if you see.’

  Tomás turned into the exit.

  Alberto put his hands on his thighs.

  ‘You just keep comfortable, Dad. You’re not going to be out too long.’ he checked the mirror. ‘I’ll find you a sweet spot and then you’re not going to hear from me for a bit. You know there’s no other way, right?’

  Alberto nodded. ‘Do not drop me off.’

  ‘I don’t think you get it.’

  ‘You were only up to my knees when we came back home all cut up but smiling from, what is it, nettles? So, what do you say, for old times?’

  Tomás laughed. The car lapped up the road. He looked behind. Then back ahead.

  He hit the brake centimetres from a bumper. Their heads sprung forward and back.

  Tomás puffed his cheeks. ‘Would it freak you out if I yelled at me to get off the road?’

  Alberto laughed. Tomás joined in.

  ‘So, my boy, you have any place in mind?’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Wherever you don’t know.’

  He looked back again briefly. ‘Dad, don’t tell me you’re not shitting yourself. I mean, here you are with more than you bargained for. You only have my word that I’m not a total stranger.’

  ‘Is that not enough?’

  ‘It shouldn’t be.’

  Alberto sighed. ‘You in a hospital bed is when I am frightened.’

  ‘Sorry I couldn’t roll a red carpet out to the car. You know, a woman shouldn’t go through that. I just lost my nerve, Dad. I can’t recall my last breaths but I’m sure my one run-through wasn’t pretty.’

  ‘New topic.’ he patted Tomás’s knee.

  ‘I’m wondering if I do actually know anywhere to go at all.’

  They were sandwiched between half a dozen slow-moving cars. A courier bike rumbled past Tomás’s side.

  ‘This car’s a liability out here.’ said Tomás. ‘I can’t have my head out like this for much longer.’

  ‘We can’t have our heads out like this for much longer.’

  Tomás nodded.

  A time-shifting two hours passed. It was decorated with generic father-son banter and the benign passing of a few mute panda cars.

  Tomás spotted upturned high wood ramps in an area surrounded by steel bars. A pedestrian opening was sealed with mahogany planks. Above it an unlit electric sign bore the logo of a recently obsolete video games console.

  Segregated beside with an open gate was an area containing five green mini buses emblazoned with “Supporting The Seniors” in a jovial red font. Tomás looked at Alberto who nodded as if approving a bride.

  Tomás drove forward into the area. He awkwardly parked behind the rear of the middle bus.

  The men unbuckled and got out. They looked in all directions as they approached the planked entrance. Just the stuttered brush of an unseen sweeper in the distance disturbed the peace.

  A white noticeboard beside the entrance displayed black marker scribbled prices with clip art of helmeted young men mid-air on skateboards.

  Tomás knocked on the mahogany. ‘I’ve taken out guys harder than this. These must’ve been replaced a few times, I’m sure.’

  He looked behind him before delivering a high kick. The planks remained firm. On further kicks dust flew from the wood.

  ‘Son, faster.’

  After a flurry of kicks the middle of the planks dented. A few more and they broke. Tomás tore the remainder off with his hands and collected cuts.

  Ahead of them the ramps were arranged as if in a crime scene, minus chalk marks. Traffic cones and yellow triangle exclamation mark signs were strewn like bystanders. Graffiti of a baseball-capped, beige-skinned boy holding a portable music player adorned reddish-brown toppling brickwork at the back.

  Inside they sought refuge in the hollow of a large ramp. Their direct view was the large powdery glint in graffiti boy’s smiling teeth.

  ‘This should be harder than it is.’ laughed Alberto.

  ‘You think so? I could kill for something in my belly. Wait, ignore that.’

  Alberto looked up at the ceiling of their brown-speckled orange shell.

  ‘It would be a shame to just sit quiet here.’ Alberto sheathed his hands with his sleeves. He put one to his mouth.

  ‘You can start a topic, if you like.’ Tomás closed his eyes. ‘Agh, what’s the point? I’m just running forward on a backwards escalator.’

  ‘Son, you made it, just with some baggage.’

  ‘But I can’t live like this, Dad.’

  ‘That thing in your chest told you to do this, so you keep listening for as long as it talks.’

  ‘But it’s not mine, is it? Maybe I’m just not thinking straight. I mean, I could be second time lucky there, right? And then no more running. I think I should go reunite the car with its owner.’

  ‘Thinking is overrated.’

  Tomás nodded. ‘You know, with this sort of place there’s gotta be somewhere to fill a damn gut around here. I’m gonna fuckin’ hit the floor soon.’

  Alberto peered out left and behind. ‘Well, I can see a small passage. You don’t move.’

  Alberto’s quick footsteps receded.

  Several minutes later Alberto stared at Tomás’s stagnant eyelids.

  ‘Oi!’ he shook Tomás’s shoulder.

  Tomás’s eyebrows arched.

  ‘My heart was about to explode, son.’

  Alberto sat with a steaming, white plastic carrier bag. He pulled out two grease-spotted mounds of near-transparent paper and a litre of fizzing brown.

  Tomás rubbed his hands. ‘You know, you should buy a metal detector or something. Probably hear it go nuts in no time!’ opening his paper he buried his nose in it and breathed. The contents glowed.

  Alberto twisted the bottle’s cap. It hissed. Faint kamikaze bubbles blended with the vulture-picking of their cod.

  ‘We’re gonna get the sniffs if we don’t get off our butts soon. But I don’t know if that ends up suicide. Man, listen to me. I’m turning into that pussy, Jim!’

  ‘Jim?’ a severed chip returned to its family.

  ‘...You’re just nitpickin’ now.’ he lifted the bottle to his mouth. It trickled slightly beneath his chin. ‘Fuck, why can’t they design this shit better?’ he patted his splattered neck.

  Alberto picked up the limp, severed chip. He bit it to a stump.

  ‘Back inside it was fuckin’ boiled dick milk or whatever.’

  ‘Where they treated you?’

  ‘Er, where else?’ he scratched around his exploded firework.

  Alberto vacuumed a drop of clear phlegm. ‘You cannot have been happy about what they did to you for my family.’ he tossed a needle bone to the ground.

  ‘What, Dad?’ he laughed.

  Alberto pressed the bottle’s mouthpiece to his lips then abruptly withdrew. The liquid swished. He shoved his crumpled paper in the bag.

  ‘Dad.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Is Mum able to get hold of you?’

  ‘Always.’

  ‘I mean, like right now?’

  ‘Mute mode.’

  ‘Not good. We might as well have painted our names on the car too!’

  Alberto squeezed it from a pocket. He pushed a tiny circle on its top. T
he lit screen displayed a notification dialogue with “7” beside a telephone icon, then blacked out.

  ‘Jeez. Time to hit the road again!’

  ‘Just one not long ring, son! It will calm her.’

  ‘That’s out the question! I ain’t shooting a second flare if they didn’t catch the first one.’

  Tomás stumbled out of the shell. Alberto followed at a relaxed pace.

  ‘It is just a feeling but I doubt your doctors called the police.’ said Alberto. ‘They would be walking on their own mousetraps.’

  ‘I ain’t sniffin’ for cheese either way!’ the bustle of the overhead motorway disappeared as he slammed the car door shut.

  Alberto puffed some air as he clicked his seat belt. The wheels screeched in high pitch.

  ‘So where next, son?’

  ‘I’ll let this car choose.’

  An hour later the car halted near an expanse of greenery. They hurried out past a signed entrance. Their feet rustled on the grassy area beside the main grey footpath.

  ‘Son, I am not an athlete!’

  ‘Did the same to me when I was a kid.’ he narrowed his eyes at other walkers. ‘We have to find somewhere out of main sight.’

  ‘That good?’ he pointed right to a distant thick tree. ‘I am not young any more.’

  ‘Alright,’ he folded his arms, ‘not at the front of it, though. I’m hoping we don’t hear any fuckin’ sirens at least while the sun stays up.’

  ‘You are sweating for no reason. They would go through all who have you, or him, in their address books.’

  As they ventured across the green tall plants tried hugging them. They sat with their backs against the opposite side of the eczema-ravaged trunk.

  Tomás slightly bent his head into Alberto’s neck as if a forced jigsaw piece.

  ‘Spit some words so I can focus on something else.’ he lowered his eyelids.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Just use your imagination!’

  Alberto looked at his lap as if examining an Autocue.

  ‘Me and your mother were going to go separate ways. If you did not pull through, I would be looking at somewhere else to live right now.’

  ‘You’re dicking with me, right?’ he straightened. ‘I know my illness wasn’t creating a party atmosphere but I didn’t think it was straining the ropes.’

  ‘Do not put weight on that. We were like a losing scratch card waiting to be rubbed. After some years one of two things happens between a man and woman; machine guns or white flags. What brought you together always goes out.’