And the missed phone call from Dr Wells. Why had she wanted to cancel? Supposition, maybe, but what if—?
What did Toshy want to say before Edward left the flat? Something gnawing on his mind, something he claimed to feel guilty about. But he chose not to talk about it after Edward mentioned his Omega Plan.
Stop it, you’re over-thinking all this, Edward thought. Tom hates Simon as much as I do.
It didn’t help; his mind raced into overdrive. Conclusions being drawn from assumptions. Assumptions borne from the hazy memories loitering like a bad smell in the recesses of his mind.
Distractions got the better of him and he started playing with his phone, messaging an individual whom Edward had only known for a few weeks. After sending an innocuous text, he released his phone from his grasp and picked up a pen and paper.
Hours melted away and the words flowed freely, until he’d finished dotting the last of the last ‘i’s with a climactic punch of the paper. He lay back in his bed and sniggered.
Underneath the mattress, he foraged for a locked storage box covered by a blanket. It was late, but he didn’t dare risk opening it while Helen and Michael were in the house. All Edward did was place the paper on top, patting it and repositioning it discretely under his bed.
A notification popped up on his phone. He studied it intently and grinned. Throwing a coat on, he scurried out into the night, with his parents by now sound asleep.
XXIII
A fine, misty rain drenched Edward without him noticing. Not that he would have cared. A half-mile from his house was a cheery pub, frequented by people of all ages. This evening happened to be busier than normal, much of the space taken up with a raucous group of recruits from an army base a short distance out of town. A crowd jostled for space in front of the counter. Edward shimmied through the door and waded up to the bar, casually surveying the customers. In trying to make eye contact with the attractive twinks and jocks, he was sure that at least one returned the compliment, by virtue of a glint in the eye and a fleeting smile appearing on his face.
He tried to order a neat shot of something-or-other and was challenged by the bar girl.
“Can I see your ID please?” she requested.
Edward had prepared for this eventuality. “I left it on base, you can ask my CO over there,” he said, gesturing randomly towards the throng of boisterous young men behind him.
The bargirl was dubious but gave him the benefit of the doubt.
“Actually, make that a double. Two, two doubles. Please,” Edward corrected himself.
The young girl looked suitably fed-up. She poured his drinks and slammed them on the bar. “£7.20,” she barked.
How much?! “Erm, can you put it on a tab?” Edward asked.
“Piss off you little—”
“Hey, hey, it’s OK love. He’s with me, aren’t you Fred? He got in late ‘cause Sarge was beasting him earlier, wasn’t he Fred?” said a man with a handsome face, spoiled by his thick West Country accent.
The stranger winked at Edward and slapped a ten-pound note in front of the bar girl. “Keep the change, darling,” he said. The young lady acknowledged this and moved on.
Edward and the man ogled each other keenly. The recruit had a cheeky grin and well-defined muscles bulging under his immaculate shirt. Edward noticed an especially handsome protrusion in his lap. Maybe it wasn’t only the drink talking for him.
“Are they both for you, or are you going to offer me one?” the stranger asked.
“You bought them, they’re both yours technically,” Edward replied.
Neither of them did anything at first, so Edward seized the initiative and downed both drinks in quick succession, much to the silent admiration of his new acquaintance. “Thanks,” he croaked.
The squaddie beamed. “Do you smoke, lad?”
Edward admitted that he didn’t. Regardless, he was invited outside into the drizzle and to the terrace round the back of the pub. Small groups of young men were clustered under the awning to keep dry, chatting obnoxiously or hacking and belching without respite.
“I don’t know who you are but thanks for covering for me at the bar,” Edward said, before adding cheekily, “I’m sure I could have got away with it anyway.”
“I know who you are, pal,” the man whispered. He made a point of checking that no one was within earshot before going on. “It’s because of you that I can now pay for little luxuries I wouldn’t have been able to afford otherwise.” With this, his eyebrows twitched and one corner of his mouth inflected upwards.
It took time for the realisation to dawn on Edward. “How d’you know it was me?” he asked, startled.
“Give over mate, you stick out like a fucken sore thumb in there. I had a hunch you was the one what messaged me.”
The soldier dragged on his cigarette and Edward instinctively edged away from the wispy smoke. With every inhalation of chemicals, he imagined his life shortening by an extra thirty seconds. Sensing Edward’s discomfort, the recruit ditched his fag on the ground and extinguished its embers with his suede loafers.
“Not a fan?”
“No, I don’t like the smell. And my parents both smoked, and both got cancer from it,” Edward lied to justify his anxiety.
The young man shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, well, death is a fact of life”.
The rainfall intensified, and the pitter-patter of precipitation on the overhang above their heads grew louder. They looked out onto the beer garden; silhouettes of hedges, picnic tables and a small children’s playground discernible in the pitch blackness.
“Everything arrived OK so far?” the man asked. His lips barely moved and he spoke just loud enough that Edward could hear him if he strained his ears.
“Yeah, I was shitting bricks waiting for them to come, but it’s all hidden safely now. Except the Uzi and grenades.”
“Shut the fuck up, you silly bugger,” the man growled.
“No one would believe what they’re hearing if they listened in on us,” Edward retorted.
“The world’s so fucked these days, anything is possible. Take nothing for granted mate. I mean it. Keep fucken quiet, you’ve only had two drinks so don’t get carried away.”
Edward pretended to study his shoes out of embarrassment for his foolishness.
“So, the SMG and clips are hidden away from here. I didn’t post ‘em. Technical reasons. Frags are a bit harder to get hold of, so I swapped ‘em out for chemicals and stunners.”
“Are you sure no one will notice they’re missing?”
“If you know where to look and who to connect with, you can have whatever you want. And get away with it,” he added as an afterthought.
“You never asked what I wanted them for.”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” said the recruit, winking. “Why should I care?”
There were so many other questions Edward wanted to have answered. “What about your friends, seeing us talking? Won’t they get suspicious?”
“My mates are too busy trying to flirt with local birds. They’re desperate for some clunge tonight, cus they’ve been kept on base seven nights straight.” He sniggered, an insatiable childish side catching up with him. “Half of them are happily loved up, they say anyway. Come on.”
The man beckoned Edward out of the pub and they set off along the road into darkness. It gave Edward a chance to take stock of the shadowy figure who had been so integral to his Omega Plan. He was older by a few years. His buzzcut and roughened skin made him seem even older. There was a reassuring presence in the way he walked through the night, the way his words cut the air.
And in spite of the cold, Edward could feel the cockles of his heart warming. Butterflies began fluttering around the pit of his stomach. Instinct told him that this guy was eyeing him up. The way he deliberately walked alongside Edward, always within arm’s reach. The pitch-black solitude of the country lane excited him even more.
They peeled off the road and walked through a wooded area
until they came to a small clearing. Protected from the rainfall by the leafy canopy high above, Edward followed the man towards a hollow beneath an aged tree trunk.
“Here. It’s where the good stuff’s kept,” the man whispered. “You should be able to take them home now it’s dark and most people are asleep.”
Edward bent down and rummaged in the cavity. His hands struck two boxy objects, covered in sodden foliage. The man kept watch as he pulled out the boxes and inspected them.
“So this is the…”
“Yeah, so you got the shooter in there, with two standard issue thirty-mag rounds. The other box has a pair of flash-bangs and some chlorine, in case, y’know…”
“As if I have any experience in making that kinda thing.”
“Doesn’t have to be built by the book. Crude shit can work just as well.”
Edward got to his feet but stumbled backwards slightly. The man leaned in to stop him falling flat on his back, catching him around the waist.
“A bit touchy-feely, aren’t we?” Edward teased.
“I know you are, backing up against me like that,” the squaddie said.
Edward wanted to throw himself onto the man’s chest and clutch his perfect pectorals through his wet shirt. Until he could gain that confidence, he racked his brain for cheesy pick-up lines.
“How are you not shivering your nuts off like me in this weather? I suppose my muscles are no match for yours,” Edward flirted.
“You wanna feel?”
“Feel what, exactly?” Edward couldn’t make out the recruit’s face in the total darkness. He could infer from the silence that his attempt at innuendo had worked.
“Wherever you want,” the man said, lowering his voice to little more than a whisper.
Edward drew himself close, until he could feel the recruit’s warm breath on his forehead. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Stroking his crotch, they leaned forward intently. Eyes closed, mouths open a little. They held their position for a couple of seconds before committing. The warmth of their tongues in each other’s mouth, and the heat from their snug embrace, repelled the cold air. In the click of a finger, they unfastened their bottoms and continued caressing one another’s skin.
The man picked him up and leaned him against the tree. Jeans down, Edward felt awash with exhilaration, yet it seemed so wrong too. He was in no mood for self-restraint. His cares and frustrations now had an outlet. He flung his head back, mouth wide. Both of them grunted with every push, compelling themselves to release the coiled tension.
They came in unison, sighing with gratification and laughing as they caught their breath.
“How can you be out of breath? You practically run 10k each morning for a living,” Edward joked, in between sharp breaths.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” the recruit answered back. “But thanks for being such a good little bottom. Tight as fuck and groaning like a little bitch. Just how I like my men.”
“I felt it alright,” said Edward, his backside smarting. A section of his abdomen, around his legacy wound, ached as well, from being roughed up against the tree trunk.
It took a minute or two for them to both regain their composure.
“You know your way back? Cos I’m gonna catch up with my mates at the pub.”
Edward nodded. Next to the tree lay his parcels, which he collected before heading off towards the lane.
“Don’t forget, this stays between us. OK?” the man reminded him. Edward responded coolly with a thumbs up, not breaking stride or turning around. He wasn’t sure if the squaddie could see his gesture, but nothing more was heard.
Edward staggered home along the unlit road, on his own. It was during this walk that the tranquil surroundings were punctured by a flurry of sneezes, accompanied by a painful headache flaring up in the depths of his skull.
XXIV
It was only the vibrations of Edward’s phone that forced him to pause his fiery on-screen battle. Headphones on, sitting hunched in front of his dual-monitor computer, bass-heavy electronic music blaring from multiple speakers in his bedroom and a crucial do-or-die moment in the game. As he removed the phone from his shorts pocket, he concealed his frustration.
“Hi there, is this Edward speaking?”
The cheery greeting did nothing to alleviate his irritation.
“Yes, speaking?”
“This is Tracey calling from Newton Bridge Surgery, are you free to talk?”
Edward felt inclined to launch into a terse response, but he held his tongue. The caller introduced herself as a practice nurse, then asked a couple of security questions. Having confirmed he was born in August and that he did still live at his current address, he listened as Tracey advised he attend an appointment with his GP that same day. He found himself pacing up and down the room while speaking to her.
“We have the results of your recent blood test and would like to book an appointment for you to see Dr Robson later on.”
“Um, I should be free all day.”
“Great.” Bitch. “We can schedule you to see him this afternoon at 4pm. Would that suit you?”
I just said I’m free all day you stupid— “Yes, I’ll see you down there later. Thanks.”
Having hung up his phone, Edward slouched back in his chair. Michael and Helen were both out; the latter having her hair done, while the former desperately tried to finish auditing Prescott’s Properties without being driven to distraction.
Obscuring the window, the curtains in his room were drawn – not unlike most teenagers’ rooms. The only light emanating around the four walls came from the golden glow of a light bulb suspended from the ceiling. In recent days, Helen and Michael knew better than to intrude when the light was on. Yet the light was always on, so they never did venture beyond the door to inspect his room.
A mega gaming session lasting into the afternoon ended abruptly when Edward was gripped by an inexplicable sense of foreboding. Invisible forces were tying his stomach in knots and gripping at his heart, attempting to constrict his chest and stop it beating. It was as if the butterflies eating away at him during times of anxiety had mutated into vicious beasts that feed on raw fear. Beads of sweat formed across his face, as the palpitations began.
“Breathe”, he told himself out loud. “Keep your mind in the present moment. In…and out.” He counted his breaths. In for four and hold for two. Out for four and hold for two. Repeat.
His pulse quickened. This wasn’t working. His brain – normally a safe haven away from the debilitating stresses of daily life – now betrayed him. He struggled to make sense of the shitstorm drowning his mind. A hail of gunfire on the monitor signalled the end of his character.
Moments that seemed like hours passed by before Edward felt the worst was over. Head between legs, his anxiety faded like the aftermath of a cyclone. He only hoped this was not merely the eye of the storm, the pause in proceedings before round two kicks off with equal savagery. Was a relapse imminent?
A normalising heart rate was followed by steadier breathing. Compos mentis was restored once he regained control of his thoughts and the mind that had formed these deep-rooted terrors.
Edward withdrew his head from his lap and inhaled sharply. He remembered why he’d asked for the blood test three days earlier. He now knew what to expect from his visit to the GP. After changing into something more respectable, he traipsed downstairs and headed out the door. Newton Bridge practice was a modest fifteen-minute walk from home. Getting there was no trouble, although Edward was poorly dressed for the rain. The weather reflected his mood rather well.
By the time he reached the reception desk, Edward was saturated. His straight black hair looked greasy as drips trickled down his face and onto his coat An old woman was ahead of him in the queue, leaning over the desk to try and view the receptionist’s monitor. The girl behind the counter, who looked as if she was fresh out of college, shifted uncomfortably as the patient pointed at the screen. In her hand, the p
atient clutched a tissue. Edward fixated on this and let his mind drift off.
“Sir? Excuse me, sir?” Edward was sucked out of his trance by a woman beckoning him over to the reception desk. He recognised her voice from the earlier phone call.
“Sorry, yes I’m here to see Dr Robson.”
“And your name please.”
“Edward. Kreus.”
“Thank you.” She again asked him to repeat his birth date and address. “Dr Robson is a little behind schedule with his patients. If you could take a seat, he will be with you as soon as he can.”
Edward Kreus did as instructed, sitting on an unstable chair in a cramped waiting room, surrounded by a dozen other sick people. The woman with the tissue made eye contact for a second or two, which coaxed Edward into raising a half-hearted smile. She returned the pleasantry, before unleashing a cacophony of epic sneezes.
His gaze led him to admire the artwork adorning the beige walls. He considered what the GP might say. The circumstances leading up to this afternoon’s visit played on his mind. He had been so ill in the week leading up to his blood test. Stuck in bed, he had dismissed his symptoms as caused by the common cold, aggravated by his medical history. That was before other possibilities entered the fray.
Before he could dwell any further, a receptionist’s voice over the PA summoned him. “Mr Kreus to see Dr Robson in room four, please.”
Edward exchanged another fleeting smile with the elderly patient as he left the waiting room and trudged along a corridor. Fluorescent strip lighting guided him to room 004. Hesitating, he knocked.
“Yes,” a brusque voice beckoned him to enter.
Edward opened the door to reveal a modest consulting room, with a bed lined up on one side and a fifty-something-year-old doctor seated attentively behind a desk on the other side.
“Edward, please take a seat. Are you on your own today?”
“Yes, no one’s with me,” came the reply, without looking at the doctor. “I think I know what’s wrong.”
Screams of Thy Neighbour Page 17