Release Candidate

by Aziz, M.

  ‘You’ll be pleading to get that, believe you me!’ Officer Harrison gasped. ‘The only route out is in cuffs!’

  ‘Open your mouth again. I dare you.’ his arm around her flexed.

  ‘Tomás, you feel they lock up man who need help?’

  ‘Ma, you should know being found not guilty just means getting tied down to another sort of bed.’

  A distant siren permeated the station.

  ‘Which spawn of Satan pulled out their mobile?’ his gun tracked a young man pocketing his phone. ‘Hoping to get a clip on tonight’s headlines, huh?’

  Before the accused could fully shake his head his right shoulder exploded blood. Female screams pierced. The victim dropped and groaned weakly.

  ‘See, I’m no fucking virgin gunslinger. My finger won’t quiver for this bitch either! Alright, now. Freak show’s over, people. Time to roll credits.’

  ‘And then?’ screamed Marilyn. ‘You think they won’t nail you at the next stop?’

  ‘Marilyn, you know my new temper!’

  A black mass of police assembled behind the original backup. All protruded long, thick guns. One held a megaphone to their mouth.

  Tomás squeezed tighter. Officer Harrison turned bright red. Her hand trembled more.

  ‘You want they not fire? Then no leave me behind!’

  Tomás turned sideways with his hostage. ‘My ears deceiving me or something?’

  ‘No need cotton bud.’

  ‘Believe me, you don’t wanna play the smart bitch.’

  ‘Tomás, no. I dumb, this action of me wrong.’

  ‘Mrs Gabino, what you playing at?’ asked one of the original male backup.

  ‘Mum, this shit ain’t washing on me!’

  ‘I not human being, make bad choice? Your hand, just give me.’

  ‘You’re fucking deluded!’

  ‘So is not in you heart to give another chance?’

  Tomás sighed. ‘You know your conscience is black as night, don’t you? I’m going to prove to you I’m no bag of loose screws. All these flies are hovering over the wrong shit!’

  ‘Mrs Gabino.’ crackled the megaphone. ‘Do I have to spell out to you what happens to those who assist criminals? Mr Gabino, if you’re still holding my officer on the count of four...’

  ‘Soon as you say two the cleaners are gettin’ some brains to mop up!’ he interrupted. ‘Mum, if you’re tagging along then don’t stand there like a dummy!’

  Estela walked forward.

  ‘Mum, pull out your phone. Fuck the other shit.’

  Bending her knees she dropped the bag.

  ‘See, it’s easy not disobeying me, isn’t it? I won’t let a graze come on you.’

  She stopped at his side. Her jaw quivered.

  ‘You pigs are wearing me out with all this cat and mouse stuff, but my ass is riding this train and I’ll see if some higher power makes you cloud my vision again!’

  Tomás edged backwards. His gun hand illuminated the carriage door button.

  ‘Gun, bullets!’ he shouted inside the carriage. ‘Comprende?’

  After the last passengers evacuated, Tomás motioned Estela to enter. He then dragged Officer Harrison in.

  Tomás hit the close button. Through a window he watched the combined police shadow elongate across the platform like that of a Hollywood monster.

  ‘Tomás, is not leaving station!’

  ‘The hell it won’t!’ he opened the door but remained inside. ‘Tell that pussy driver to do what he’s paid for or they’ll have a new vacancy here!’

  ‘Don’t fret about me!’ screamed Officer Harrison.

  He shifted the gun to his other hand then covered her nose and mouth.

  ‘Tomás,’ said another female officer, ‘do you really think there’s any chance of us doing that? You harm even a single hair on her head and you’re coming out of there in a body bag! No joke. Now do the right thing, Mr Gabino.’

  Officer Harrison vomited a clear blob through his fingers.

  ‘Do as say.’ said Estela. ‘Is no worth turn her blue. They will only fear when put this gun my head.’

  ‘Not a bad brain you got there, Ma.’ he breathed out. ‘No one cares much if these shits get stubbed out, but you, you’d make news! Can’t pop my life jacket.’

  ‘Lord... Please no let this be true!’ Estela put a hand to her mouth. ‘Look!’

  Officer Harrison had stopped writhing. Her eyelids seemed speckled with glitter. Tomás felt her limp wrist.

  ‘Not gone.’

  The police shadow enveloped the platform. Tomás smacked the close button.

  ‘Mum, how the fuck am I gonna turn this around now?’

  ‘No ask question, we go end of this carriage.’

  ‘You going to cast a magic spell or what?’

  ‘I buying you time!’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Do as say!’

  Tomás looked her in the eye. He let Officer Harrison fall gently to the floor. As he turned, Estela wriggled something out of her sleeve. She hid it behind her back.

  He reached the carriage’s end. ‘Mum, if it’s in your head that I can just waltz to the driver from here you’re having a laugh. This so-called fucking door is just decoration. All I’d find anyway is an empty seat with a piss stain on it!’

  Estela brought the knife forward. Tomás turned towards her. Before he could say a word she darted at his chest. He swerved.

  She buried it in his left shoulder.

  Tomás uttered a guttural cry. His finger loosened on the trigger. She twisted the knife until his eyes animatronically rolled. Her teeth gritted. The gun fell.

  She picked it up and aimed, shaking. Tomás fell back to the carriage wall. He slid to his knees.

  ‘Fa-huck!’ he shrieked. His fingers dabbed around the submerged steel.

  ‘Always saying this disgusting word, proof you not my blood!’

  ‘Gonna pop one in my skull?’ he panted.

  She rubbed the trigger.

  ‘Let’s see if you can work that thing. What kind of world is it where your own mother points a barrel at your face?’

  ‘No call me mother!’ she shivered. ‘Even if, you no longer normal! Mad dog!’

  A knock came on the carriage door. Estela looked away. In that split second Tomás got up and sprang Estela. He wrestled her to the floor. She struggled to maintain a grip on the gun.

  The door opened. Four officers aimed at Tomás. The gun slid from her hand.

  Just as Tomás was about to grab the gun Estela yanked the knife. He let out another cry then attempted one more as the blade entered the base of his neck. His throat struggled to eject sound.

  He dribbled a line of blood.

  An officer pulled Estela from under Tomás.

  Tomás blinked slowly. Red spurts spilled out over his chin. Rolling onto his side he weakly pressed against his latest, gushing wound. A few gulps followed.

  ‘Ji-him. Somethick fish...’ his eyes closed.

  ‘Signal an ambu!’ shouted an officer.

  ‘What you doing?’ struggled Estela. ‘Leave bleed!’

  A crowd reformed around the carriage. Haroon and Marilyn pushed to the front.

  They saw Estela flail in her officer’s arms at the carriage doors. The officer’s colleagues knelt down out of window view.

  Marilyn put a hand over her mouth. She cried quietly.

  Haroon squeezed her shoulder. Through a carriage window he spotted a blood stain on a wall. He shook his head.

  Minutes later sirens filled the platform. Five paramedics penetrated the crowd with two stretchers. Four headed back with Tomás and the young man he shot. Tomás’s neck was pasted with congealing blood. The last paramedic attended to the arisen Officer Harrison and Estela with misty green face masks before leading them out.

  Marilyn broke from Haroon’s hold and ran through a line of officers.

  ‘Tell me, the man who was in there... I need to know!’

  The paramedic avoid
ed eye contact. ‘They caught a pulse. Just about.’

  Marilyn froze.

  The stretchers raced into gaping ambulance mouths at the station entrance. An officer left his colleagues and entered the one containing Tomás, Estela and Officer Harrison before it drove away.

  Haroon walked up to Marilyn. ‘Only fate decides what will happen to the dude. Remember that.’ he patted her back.

  ‘Which place are they dragging him to?’ she shook his shoulder. ‘I have to be at his side!’

  ‘They won’t be taking him loads of miles away for no reason. I bet we can just hop on a bus.’

  Marilyn and Haroon soon arrived at the emergency ward. They found Estela on a bed. To her right Officer Harrison sat on a plastic chair. The accompanying officer stood beside her.

  ‘He’s not in the morgue, is he?’ asked Marilyn. ‘Please don’t tell me he’s in the morgue yet!’

  ‘Doctor walk in, out. No answer my question.’

  Officer Harrison stroked her own neck and stood. ‘I’ve not a clue as to how I’m gonna begin a write-up on this. You lot better fail a lie detector test for my sanity!... Christ, please don’t tell me the streets are crawling with these monsters?’

  ‘That was in the bastards minds.’ replied Marilyn.

  ‘If we didn’t wrap criminals in cotton wool we’d just be dreaming about this shit!’ said Haroon.

  Estela’s wet eyelids closed.

  An hour later Tomás’s body was shifted to a recovery room. Pink gel oozed from a bandage around his neck. Tubes were taped to his nose, chest and hands.

  Several minutes later a doctor entered, followed by Prof Barber and Dr Klimek.

  ‘This him?’ asked the unknown, dark-featured doctor in a South African accent.

  Dr Klimek glared at Tomás’s face then nodded.

  ‘Phew! I can drop playing detective now.’ the unknown doctor continued. ‘Anyway, he’s not going toe-tagged into a freezer as long as this stuff keeps pumping into him, for now. Wishful thinking he’ll ever get out of a bed again, though. You’re the geniuses anyway, so Prince Charming’s all yours. You want me to holler transport?’

  ‘We’ll find you when we need you.’ replied Prof Barber.

  ‘You’re the honcho. Keep an eye on his drip.’ he left.

  Dr Klimek pressed against the door ensuring it was shut.

  ‘So, what bright move now, Alan?’

  Prof Barber breathed out. ‘Well, there goes my Nobel prize. I’d have been better off emptying a fucking suitcase full of money over a bonfire and be done with! Bad day at the casino or whatever, that’s the only way to deal with it or I’m going to end up dangling from a ceiling! The lab stuff can go wherever.’

  ‘Alan, there’s a damaged still-breathing man in front of us that couldn’t care less about our particular problems. Are we just going to brush him under the carpet as well? Look, the equipment’s only been used once and there’s no shortage of bodies to use. The Gabinos can stay in the dark if it botches once more.’

  ‘If we do it even once, you and I most definitely won’t make the news with trophies in our hands and smiles. You want that? Pop those finishing line dreams!’

  ‘So we’re to forget our profession in front of him, yes?’

  ‘If he was a bloody cat or dog that would’ve been applauded. Anyway, no, I’ve already urinated over “first do no harm”. But the longer he’s away from Caldwell the more likely he becomes a reporter’s fat cheque.’

  Dr Klimek shook his head. ‘The man can’t move his arms or legs!’

  ‘So being disabled makes you immune from the law, does it?’

  ‘Have a heart, Alan. There’s no need to shove him in a hell hole. Our pockets aren’t that lacking.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he were anywhere else. And that hell hole would just be a pile of mouldy old bricks if it wasn’t for our contributions. They can’t stop us from emptying out one of their cells to put him snugly in. Don’t have any illusions; underneath, this man is still Pedro something-or-other. Once his eyes flicker, all we put via the machine may not even have preserved as a bad dream. The man’s final breaths were not meant to be out of Caldwell. Mercifully, the lucky so-and-so may now not experience that too late.’

  ‘And what if when he regains consciousness he’s still a two-headed monster, or,’ he held up the index and middle fingers of both hands to signify quotes, ‘worse, he is now who we meant him to be?’

  ‘This product was a consolidation of two burials or cremations, which could now go ahead. I don’t want unfamiliar hands fiddling with my creation. What we have here is a learning tool; should our phoenix ever get a chance in the future to rise from the fucking ashes.’ he sighed.

  ‘But what gives you the idea that you have a claim over him?’

  ‘Do you see a property tag? I don’t. Their identifying documents will be loo roll in the supermarket now and free space on the database.’

  ‘So this is going to be dust under the rug, is it? Can’t go the extra mile to become a hero?’

  ‘I’d make an excellent Prime Minister, wouldn’t I, Klimek?’ he mock-laughed. ‘Now, do I have to give you written instructions or are you finding the thought of a long holiday at Caldwell attractive yourself?’

  Dr Klimek huffed and left the room.

  Half an hour later the unknown doctor approached Estela. He wore a convincing grim expression.

  ‘I think you know what I’ve come to tell you.’

  Estela sunk her head deep into the pillow. Clasping her hands above her she smiled weakly.

  Haroon pressed a hand to his forehead then fell heavily to his seat. Marilyn ran out into the corridor.

  ‘His organs...’ said the doctor. ‘You know with much good material it would be a shame to keep other people on a waiting list...’

  Estela shut her eyes. ‘Tomás already bury full in my heart. Long time go. No care.’

  ‘I wish more people were like you.’ he nodded and left.

  ‘Mrs G, I’ll... Marilyn.’ said Haroon.

  Estela sighed.

  15

  The next morning Tomás blinked awake to the slow beep of a heart monitor. He looked around the room.

  ‘God. This ain’t my fuckin’ auntie’s house.’ he croaked.

  Warden Stanley entered looking chipper. A blonde female nurse in a navy cardigan followed him in.

  ‘Back with all the other scum again.’ said Tomás to himself. ‘Yeah, you’re fucking unfit for the world out... Fucking brain!’ he shook his head.

  ‘They not washed your skull of my craggy face, have they, mate?’ asked Stanley. ‘You should have a gander at the rest of this place now. Blimey. We could’ve used the banknotes alone as wallpaper! Anyway, where I stand is where I wish I could turn back time and say “no, this is wrong.”‘

  Tomás saw the warden’s face fluidly morph to that of Alejandro, then Horry and Haroon. The nurse’s face shifted permanently to a fuzzy, paler-looking Chan-sook.

  ‘My arms! My legs! My fucking head’s not working straight!’

  ‘You know now I wouldn’t wish this state on anybody...’ he cleared his throat. ‘I bet you heard how sometimes budget cuts mean no defibs in here, for instance, to shock a beat back into a heart. That’s far from ideal, ain’t it?’ he screwed up his nose.

  ‘You ain’t gettin’ away like that, Barber! I swear you’re one pussy if you take me out like canned hunt.’

  ‘You’re way overdue an upgrade to the top, top floor, son. This is only right.’

  The nurse pulled an ampoule from her shirt pocket. She flicked at its cap with a fingernail to dislodge a droplet of yellow liquid. After pinching off the cap she handed it to the warden and produced a needle and syringe from her cardigan pocket.

  ‘Woh! Don’t be dickin’ around with that thing now! Look, just get me a motor chair and I’ll act like this shit never happened!’ he gasped. ‘...Why so slow? Just jab a fucking vein already!’

  ‘Son, you know ther
e’s only one way to get rid of this nightmare. Don’t tense now.’

  The nurse raised the assembled injection and walked towards Tomás.

  He screamed then gritted his teeth.

  She pulled his covers and thrust the needle into an arm.

  Also by M. Aziz

  Read Me: A Novelette-length Collection of Flash Fiction and Musicless Lyrics

  Prescribing Sunshine: Why vitamin D should be flying off shelves

  Release Candidate First digital edition, August 2014

  Copyright © Mo Aziz 2014

  email: mo79uk@gmail.com

  Cover photo by Jenni Saunders provided under a standard license. Copyright © Shutterstock.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or redistributed in any form without the express permission of the copyright holder; excluding to the limited extent permissible by law for critical, journalistic and non-commercial purposes.

  This book must not be circulated without the above copyright detail or in altered binding.

  Please note that this book has been written in British English.