That explains it then. There’s no way you could be responsible. It’s just coincidence. Put it out of your mind.
I tried, but it was no good. I forced myself to close my eyes. I obviously needed sleep. I had immersed myself all day in something that I still couldn’t explain, just like my father had done towards the end. And look where it got him.
I began to relax and succumb to the darkness, allowing the visions of my dead friends to pass before me once more and disappear. I was on the brink of sleep when one more face appeared behind my eyes, awakening the cold feeling in my chest.
It was a face I hadn’t thought of since I got to Spinwood, but now could not shake from my mind.
April.
Chapter Eight
Leaving Spinwood so suddenly, with no money, no coat, no decent plan and no idea where I was going, was possibly not my finest moment. Well, that wasn’t strictly true – I knew where I was going, I just had no idea how to get there.
I had no inclination at the time to note down the phone number for the taxi company whose driver dropped me off at Spinwood the previous day, and now admonished myself for it as I walked down the unlit country road. The silence should have been comforting for my clouded mind, but it put my nerves on red alert. An owl hooted in the distance. I stopped dead in my tracks for many moments, turning on the spot to try and locate the sound that had long since faded. I silently pleaded for a car to come passing by. Even if I couldn’t hitch a lift, it would confirm to me that there was still life out there.
I had no idea what time it was, only that it was late. The absence of neighbouring properties meant that there were no street lamps to offer any light along the minor road that I now walked. I had only been walking for fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, but it already felt like hours.
I vaguely remembered the direction I had approached Spinwood from, ensuring that I walked back along that same track. I also remember the driver taking a left turn onto this road, so all I had to do was follow it to the next major turning and bear right.
Beyond that, I had no idea. Estimating that I was walking a steady pace of around three miles per hour, I deduced that I should be reaching that junction any minute. As I followed the grass verge around the final curve to the right, I finally spotted a light up ahead. A single street lamp lit the way, joined quickly by the headlights of two cars travelling in either direction.
I sighed with relief and picked up my pace slightly. Thankfully, a road sign opposite the main turning gave me my next clue. It announced that Cheltenham was twelve miles away. Underneath, the sign also displayed a symbol; a red square, housing a white capital ‘H’.
The hospital. St. Catherine’s District. My destination.
It may still be miles away, but at least I had a sign to follow. If I walked the whole way, it would be well into the morning before I arrived. I turned and followed the direction the sign pointed me towards, deciding my best bet was to follow the main road towards the dual-carriageway. With The Caretaker’s words of warning still whispering in the back of my mind, I was taking no chances. Stick to the main roads.
My legs were growing tired already and my back ached with every step. I carried on walking, hoping I could soon grab a lift.
*****
I was awoken at sunrise by the birds in the tree above me, their cheery greeting to each other filling an otherwise restful sky. I forced my eyes open, having to blink several times to clear the blurriness. My first sight of that day was a clear sky, only a single cloud breaking the vision as the sky bled from purple to orange. I could tell that it was going to be a glorious day, weather-wise.
I lay marvelling at it, allowing the peace to envelop me. But the moment I tried to move, I was reminded of the wretched night’s sleep I’d had. If you can call it a night’s sleep; in truth it could only have been a few hours at most.
No good Samaritan had crossed my path, and I was forced to walk for as long as my legs would carry me. It wasn’t my aching body that had slowed me down; the darkness of the night sky continued to grow thicker and heavier after I was forced away from my desired route along the main roads. Roadworks, it seemed, could even inflict unwanted or unexpected pedestrians along the side of the road. A stretch of churned-up tarmac from the road and pathways had made any further progress in that direction impossible.
Soon enough, the darkness and the emotional onslaught I had suffered throughout the previous couple of days took its toll and claimed my body. I found myself crossing through an unlit park, fatigue causing me to stumble more than once. Thankfully, on the final time a wonderfully-positioned park bench broke my fall. The impact failed to hurt my weary limbs, instead providing comfort beyond what any well-sprung mattress could offer me. At least, as far as I was concerned right at that moment.
I slumped onto my side and instantly fell asleep.
The rattle of an empty glass bottle along the ground caused me to jump, sitting bolt upright with a trapped breath stinging my chest. The bottle was quickly displaced onto the green by the man who decided it was obviously in his way, and beyond his powers to step around it. I watched as he walked by, his head hung low, bobbing to music only he could hear through the headphones that sat atop his lank hair.
I envied him. Even if just for a moment. He cared little enough about the world around him to be able to block out the unwanted sounds with music. I wished at that moment that I had some way of silencing the thoughts that refused to die down, like an endless barrage within my head.
With the moment of sudden – and unnecessary – panic now over, I was made aware of the searing pain in my right shoulder, a result of the position I had slept in. Summoning the last dregs of my energy, along with some enthusiasm for the new day, I stood from my resting place and continued my walk.
The walk gave me time to clear the cobwebs, but the longer I was able to think, the quicker the memories and revelations from the last few days haunted me all over again. My father. The Caretaker. The package which led me to my father’s hidden sanctum. And the terrible answers that I had awaited me in there.
The unwanted pressure which was now bearing down on my shoulders. Responsibility for the deaths that I was now so convinced I had caused, even if I had no idea as to how.
Then I thought of April again. Her angelic face, sweet voice and enrapturing eyes. The image caused me to quicken my pace. She was suddenly now the key to resting my mind, the only one that could prove to me that I was not some kind of monster, that I wasn’t the outcast I had always felt like I was, and still appeared to be.
I needed more answers. Driven by an animalistic urge for some kind of truth – much like my father had been – the world around me suddenly melted away. Exiting the park, I followed the pathway to the right, following the main road towards the town centre. I could see the tall buildings rise up in the distance.
I spied a road sign ahead, telling me that I had managed to get within a mile of my destination last night. A pang of disappointment struck me in the chest, as I realised I could have been there well before now if I had only pushed myself harder.
Relax. Haven’t you put through enough?
My aches eased more with each stride, the thought of seeing April again acting as the beacon that pulled me back to St. Catherine’s.
Chapter Nine
I often referred to my memory as my ‘third eye’. I have already mentioned my seemingly supernatural ability to remember things from even the earliest moments of my life, but I discovered over the years that I also had the ability to ‘turn on’ – or off – my memories at will. I imagined my mind very much like the filing cabinets I discovered in my father’s old office. Every event in my life had been recorded and filed away, with its own label and date stamp, ready for me to recall whenever I needed to. Or, on the flip side, I could choose to lock certain painful memories away where they could no longer harm me.
Trying to avoid drawing too much attention to myself or appearing conspicuous in any way, I called upon my third ey
e as I walked through the lobbied entrance to St. Catherine’s District Hospital. I had not consciously remembered the ward I had awoken on a few days before, but I somehow knew that the route I had taken when exiting the hospital will have been stored in my subconscious.
As if on cue I followed signs almost immediately, my feet knowing which direction to take me. I breezed past the Reception desk, where the woman there was struggling to deal with a growing cue of patients, and turned a few corners before realising that I must have been aiming for Turner Ward. Instinctively, I entered the nearest lift and pressed the button to take me to the third floor.
When the doors opened, I felt no longer under the control of the third eye. I stepped out into the corridor, looking both ways for a few moments before deciding which direction to go. A nurse entered the corridor to my right, and through the open double doors behind her, I spied the reception desk for the ward. Now that I knew I must have been in the right place, there was nothing left to it except for asking someone to direct me to April.
As I walked towards the doors, my stomach began to churn. I felt nervous, as I imagine a young boy would when being faced with asking a girl out for the first time. I tried to force the thought aside. It was absurd, I had no intentions of declaring any kind of affection towards her. She had a boyfriend, anyway. Whether he was an ex or otherwise, he obviously still occupied a place in her life. Any attempt for her hand would be futile and would only lead to further humiliation for me.
Not something I was ready for.
I rehearsed my opening lines a few more times in my head as I pushed through the doors.
Hi, April. Do you remember me? Was just passing and wanted to say hey. No she would never fall for that. Who would just be passing a hospital and be propelled to wander in and say hello to a junior nurse?
Hi April, it’s me. The guy who couldn’t remember his own name. Just wanted to say thanks for looking after me and I just needed to check you were okay, so that I can get over myself and carry on with my life.
Now that was worse. It made me sound like a lunatic and only after her pity.
Before I could try and formulate a better introduction, I found myself at the ward’s reception desk. A warm-eyed lady looked up at me, smiling naturally, which made me do the same. ‘Hi, can I help you?’ she asked.
I stammered for the first few moments, forgetting why I was there at all. ‘Yes, sorry. I was just wondering if you could tell me where I could find April Masters, please?’
The receptionist looked at me suspiciously. I noticed her eyes darting back and forth, as if trying to place the name. ‘I think she is one of the nurses here,’ I prompted.
‘Ah yes,’ the woman replied, ‘young April.’ Her smile dropped momentarily and her eyes darkened, became glassy. She quickly shook her head and appeared to return to normal. ‘Are you family?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m not. I guess you could call me a friend. I was in here until a few days ago. April really helped me. I just wanted to say thanks,’ I lied. I had to congratulate myself on a quick comeback.
‘What was your name? I will see if I can find her and let her know you are here.’
‘I don’t –‘ I started, catching myself before I could make a fool of myself. ‘Morden,’ I told her, ‘Zero Morden. Although I’m not sure if you’d have a record of me. I had no ID or anything when I was brought in and suffered amnesia when I awoke…’
I stopped myself, hearing how stupid I sounded. I met the receptionist’s gaze once more, only to find a confused and bewildered look on her face. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she said, as she cautiously slid out of her chair and down the hall.
My buttocks had barely graced the chair I had selected in the waiting room before the receptionist returned, this time with a tall man in a white coat behind her. I recognised him straight away.
‘Dr. Chandler,’ I greeted him, offering out my hand. Rather than shake it, he appeared to look at the appendage nervously, before looking me over up and down. I did the same myself and was reminded what a state I looked, having briefly forgotten my night under the stars.
‘How are you, son?’ he asked. ‘You look like you’ve been sleeping rough. Everything okay?’
I felt my face redden. I was a mess. All I could offer as a response was a lazy shrug of my shoulders. ‘I’m fine,’ I then said, ‘just not had the best night, that’s all.’
Dr. Chandler nodded sympathetically, and then glanced at me over the top of his thin-framed glasses. ‘Karen here informs me that you wish to see Miss Masters?’ I nodded eagerly. Chandler did the same, only with the same grave look about his face as the receptionist had. ‘Follow me,’ he said, stretching an arm towards the corridor, ‘Let’s have a little chat.’
*****
My body was crying out for an energy boost, so heaven knows why I declined the doctor’s offer of a coffee. At the time I suppose it felt as if it was an obligatory offer, just another thing to delay something inevitable. I had now asked two people about April within the first few minutes of being back in the hospital, and both had seemingly evaded the question.
Something wasn’t right.
‘Are you sure?’ Doctor Chandler asked, holding out an empty Styrofoam cup. ‘You look like you could do with one.’ I shook my head again, imploring him to cut the small talk.
‘What is this all about?’ I finally asked. I could see him smirk as he turned away from me to continue filling his own cup. ‘Is April here?’ At the mention of the young nurse’s names, I noticed his shoulders sag, as if I had replaced a heavy weight that he had momentarily unburdened himself of.
Chandler turned around, busying himself with stirring his coffee, his gaze avoiding mine. He took a seat and sighed heavily as he sat down, placing the cup on the table next to him. He looked at me gravely, maybe even pitifully, clasping his hands together on his lap, leaning forward as if to whisper.
‘I’m afraid not,’ he said. I said nothing, afraid to even breathe. I waited for him to continue, though I felt like I already knew what he was going to say. ‘You see, we had a call in the early hours of yesterday morning, from her boyfriend. He was clearly distressed, panicked. Said that Miss Masters went to bed feeling unwell early the previous evening. She had high fever, and blotches appearing on her skin. Thinking it was simply an allergic reaction to something she had eaten, she insisted she simply slept it off. But she never woke up.’
I was numb. Chandler’s words became just noise to me; the world around me started turning to grey. I was no longer really there. Visions returned of all of those smiling faces looking back at me from the newspaper clippings, friends I had once held close, as I read about their tragic deaths.
And now this.
Chandler paused for a few moments, took a gulp of coffee and then continued.
‘There was nothing we could do. She was clinically dead by the time we could get her here. Her body had been ravaged by…something. I for one had never seen anything quite like it in all my years in medicine. I mean, I had seen flesh-eating viruses before but nothing that had acted so –‘
‘Stop!’ I urged, ‘Please stop. I don’t need to know the details.’
‘Yes, of course,’ he replied, somewhat embarrassed. ‘Apologies, but I just wanted you to know, especially since you had made the trip down here.’
I sat in silence, staring at the floor, my head shaking slowly in disbelief. My mouth moved to form words that only sounded in my head.
‘I’m sorry, Mr. Morden. I didn’t realise you two were so close.’
The statement made me laugh bitterly, mostly to myself. ‘We weren’t,’ I said. ‘I just can’t believe something could happen so suddenly like that. To anyone. And she really helped me whilst I was in here. She listened. It’s been a long time since I’ve had that.’ I finally lifted my head with the last words, drawing a deep breath into my chest, wiping away a few loose tears, making out I was too strong to cry.
‘I know, son,’ the doctor replied, placing a
hand on my shoulder. ‘You father was never –‘
He stopped talking immediately. My head snapped to face him at the mention of my dad. Doctor Chandler sat there, clearly flustered, his face now a deep pink. He started tripping over his words. ‘I mean, I…I never…I’m sorry, please excuse me.’
‘Wait…’ I pleaded, but he was out the door before I could stop him.
*****
He was gone long enough for a thousand more questions to form in my mind. As if my head were now a hadron collider, each of them clashed together, shouting to be heard over each other, though not one of them was clear enough for me to understand. I thought of April, still numb at the thought that she was now dead when she was so alive the last time I saw her. How is it possible for one life to be snuffed out virtually overnight? Then again, it had happened to at least seven others around me in previous years.
And then I thought again of my father. In what way did Dr. Chandler know him, if he really did at all? After all, no-one apparently knew my name – not even me – when I was brought to St. Catherine’s not even a month earlier. My previous bout of nausea returned. I sat further back in my chair, drawing slow, deep breaths in an attempt to soothe the sickness.
It didn’t work. And when Dr. Chandler returned a few minutes later, the cycle started again. I felt the need to ask him so many questions, not one of them made it to my lips. The fractious look that had clouded his face when he rushed from the room was now gone. His skin appeared clammy, to suggest he was either sweating nervously or he had calmed himself by washing his face. Either was possible.
‘I’m sorry, Mr. Morden. I am going to have to conclude our meeting,’ he told me, coldly. ‘I have many important things to see to today, I’m sure you’ll understand. Especially in light of what has happened to Miss Masters.’ The formal, cold manner in which he addressed her was boiling my blood. Her name was April. One of his valued staff members, and a beautiful human being. He now spoke about her simply as a headmaster would address any one of his pupils.
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