by Susan Harris
Once I returned to sit on the bed, I tried to close my eyes. I had a strong need to see anything but the blood-soaked walls. After half an hour, I realized that my mind was still playing havoc with me. Closing my eyes only brought repeated images of me shooting Daniel. Talk about your Stockholm syndrome issues. First, I began by crushing on my shrink. Now, I had dreamt of shooting him. What’s up with that?
Because I had woken up long before the time for breakfast, I had hours to dwell on things. I tried hard not to think about my family but kept going back to that memory of me and Sophia playing in the garden. Why would my mind have blanked out just two short weeks later? I really was ready to deal with it now. I had to, didn’t I? Deep down inside my gut I didn’t want to die, but dying without knowing the truth was unthinkable.
While studying the shadows as they turned to light on the floor, the night eased into day, and I waited for sounds of waking inmates ringing out through the corridors. Most of those lucky souls would eventually be free and educated, rehabilitated into society so they could use the skills and knowledge they learned to better the human race. Some knew when they would be getting out and ticked off the days until they could breathe fresh air again. Each day I heard happy conversations from those inmates as they shuffled past me. It shouldn’t have grated on me… but it did.
Cautiously, I waited until my cell door opened, and upon exiting I half expected to see the river of blood surround me. One deep breath later, I headed down for breakfast. It was Saturday. No session with Daniel today. Disappointment welled up, but I quashed it down as far as I could. Even so, my shoulders slumped, and an involuntary darkness swept through me.
Because of the nightmare, I wasn’t sure I could stomach the porridge, so after skipping the line, I grabbed a bruised apple and plonked down in a corner of the room. As soon as I had settled, I noticed some of the guards had manoeuvred themselves closer to me, avoiding my glances but close enough to intervene if necessary.
That’s when I gazed up and spied the warden, deep in conversation with Connors. Theresa blatantly pointed her finger in my direction, and Connors frowned but nodded in compliance. She was apparently telling Connors off, and he did not look happy about it. He nodded but turned, heading away from her. Evidently, he must have sensed my stare because his head spun in my direction, and his gaze met mine. When it did, Connors winked and stuck out his tongue, sending me into fits of giggles.
Theresa’s head snapped in my direction, and I almost choked on my laughter while trying to mask my amusement. I bit into the apple, and the bitterness of it made me swallow hard. How difficult would it be for such a high tech facility to at least have something edible on the menu? My stomach growled while I continued to munch away on the sour tasting fruit. During the rest of breakfast, I kept my head down, waiting to return to my cell. Out of nowhere, a shadow appeared in front of me.
He was a boy about my age who sat down on the bench in front of me and chuckled as I raised an eyebrow. I continued to nibble on the apple, and the boy waited for me to finish. He watched in silence as I tossed my leftovers into the bin and began to rise.
“So you’re just gonna be rude and leave without so much as a ‘Hi. How you doing?’”
“When people are friendly to me, I normally end up in the infirmary, so you’ll have to excuse my lack of manners.”
He leaned closer to the table, resting his elbows on it and then his chin on his hands. “Veronika’s a nasty bitch. Thanks for helping Afsana out like you did. Poor girl never says boo to anyone, and she gets pushed around a lot. You would think being in here for acts of terrorism would scare most people away from her… but not Veronika.” He used air quotes when saying acts of terrorism, pointing out to me that the little mouse of a girl could not be a terrorist.
This guy spoke of her in terms similar to the ones I used for Sophia as if he were a big brother looking after her. That’s when I took notice of him. He stood a few inches taller than me, but that wasn’t hard for most people. Hair trimmed down to his skull, he had fine bristles of blond barely shimmering in the winter sun. Built stocky with strong shoulders and a cheeky grin. One of his most distinguishing features was a very intriguing scar that trailed from over his forehead and disappeared behind his ear, but I couldn’t get a clear view of the rest of it. He wore black. At least we had that in common.
People had avoided me since I got here, and I grew suspicious of the boy immediately, surprised when he reached out his hand and said, “Name’s Jayson, friends call me Jay. Pleased to meet you.” Nothing was given away in his accent. He spoke in a level tone, and I decided to play along.
I wrapped my fingers around his and shook, his grip firm and strong. Allowing a smile to dance on my lips, I answered, “Alana McCarthy.”
He let go of my hand and returned to his position of resting his head on hands as he waited for me to speak again. I didn’t. Instead, I leaned back in my seat and folded my arms across my chest. He chuckled again and held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Don’t worry, Alana. I came here as a friend, an ally really. You helped one of my people out, so I am extending the hand of friendship. Come join us anytime. Your hostility doesn’t seem like the best of company.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Your people?”
Jayson sighed. “Yes, Afsana and a few others. We look out for each other. The lifers think it’s fun to pick on the part timers for whatever reason. So I try and gather as many of them together during group times to avoid what would have happened to Afsana if you hadn’t stepped in. Thanks again for that.”
“Jealousy,” I muttered.
“Sorry. What did you say?”
“Jealousy. That’s why Veronika does it. She knows that they will eventually get out of here while we waste away gathering dust until D-day.”
Jayson rubbed his chin, his grin widening. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, Alana. You are not afraid to speak the truth.”
“When I can remember it, I do.” The words had slipped from my lips before I had a chance to stop them, and I should have been horrified, but Jayson simply laughed as I clasped a hand over my mouth. Soon another rumble of laughter came from my right. Out of the corner of my peripheral vision, I noticed that Connors had replaced one of the guards. His shoulders shook at my words.
“Damn, Alana. If we had met under different circumstances, I’m sure we would have had a lot of laughs. Feel free to join us anytime. You are entitled to some fun before you die… you don’t have to be alone.”
I couldn’t say anything as a lump formed in my throat. Why the hell was this guy being so nice to me? Sure, I had intervened on behalf of Afsana with Veronika, but that had been more for me than the girl. And then he said something that just about gave me a heart attack.
“We’ve met before, Alana.”
“Whaaat? Yeah. I remember you being here when I got brought in.”
Jayson leaned in closer until his face was inches from mine. As he spoke, my heart pounded against my chest, and I fought hard not to let the threatening tears spill over.
“We met before that, Alana. You just don’t remember. I’d say it was about ten months ago. You were on a field assignment for the centre. I don’t want to tell you if it is going to upset you, but it might help for someone to tell you about part of your missing year.”
I nodded, afraid to speak. Jayson sat back and began to tell his story.
“My sister always seemed to be sick, even when she was a tiny baby. Our mom always had to sell our stuff to get medicine for her. Dad had left us long before that, and with the reduction in money being given out to single parents, sometimes we barely ate. Mom went out at night and came home with money, but it never seemed enough. Ellie just got sicker and sicker. That was when my mom started drinking. You can guess where things were heading.
One night, Mom went out to buy medicine for Ellie, but she just never came back. So here I was, this fourteen-year-old kid raising his ten-year-old sister. I got food and
money doing odd jobs around the markets, but then Ellie got an infection, and her medicine was just too fucking expensive for me to get. I snapped…
I asked the pharmacy for the medicine up front and told them I’d work off the debt. The stupid idiot made a comment about me not being able to pay like my mom could have, so I dived over the counter, grabbed the medicine and headed for the door. I knew I would get arrested and Ellie would be taken into care, but at least she would be alive.”
Jayson paused and cleared his throat. I admired his willingness to go to extraordinary lengths for his family. Anxious to get to the part where we’d crossed paths, I struggled to politely wait for him to continue his story. To be honest, something about his story was strangely familiar, almost as if a fog had cleared, and I saw through it.
“I fought with the cashier and pushed him away. He fell, knocking down a shelf, spilling meds all over the floor. I scrambled out of there while he tried to stop the few customers who got down on their hands and knees to pick up their own medication. The wail of a siren came closer and my eyes averted for a second as an officer gave chase. When I ran from him—”
“—You ran into an old man, and he hit his head and died.”
The words flowed from my mouth as something clicked into place. I remembered details of Jayson’s case. A rush of excitement overtook me, and I ignored the guards’ gasps when they heard my recollection. I had remembered something… or let it slip.
Jayson smiled. “That’s right. I accidently bumped into the man as I tried to escape, and he cracked his head on the pavement and boom! Instant manslaughter charge. You came with the field kit when I was being brought over from London. I remember thinking how nice you were for giving me water when the officers weren’t looking. You smiled at me and whispered something in my ear. Do you remember what you said?”
The memory crashed into me as ferocious as a tidal wave into a ship, causing its inhabitants to hold on for dear life as the monstrous waves threatened to drag them into the undercurrent.
With a shaky voice and dry mouth, I said, “I told you that I would have done the same thing if my sister had been ill.”
Jayson nodded. “Small comforts that I held onto in here. I have another year before my eighteenth birthday but knowing my sister is well and being cared for means a lot. I heard you ask one of the retrieval officers what had happened to my sister. You repeated very loudly that she had been fostered to a nice family who ran a cafe and had no kids of their own. One of the few small acts of kindness which has kept me sane in here. So, Alana, I owe you one… Don’t be afraid to cash it in.”
I had no words. My brain refused to cooperate with my lips as a piece of the puzzle from the last year slotted into place. Jayson rose, and I stood with him. The boy came around the table and engulfed me in a hug. I awkwardly hugged him back, ignoring the slight ripple of pain in my stomach as I revelled in the most physical contact I’d had in months, and I patted him on the back.
His warm breath tickled my ear when he whispered, stepping out of the hug and sauntering back to his little circle of friends. I froze in the moment before shaking out the cobwebs and quickly vanished from the room. Amazing. I had remembered all on my own! Well, with some prompting. For a long time, hope had been a distant thing, too far away for me to cling to, but I hung to my lifejacket now as sharks circled, waiting. I will remember… I will.
By now word would have filtered around the wing and spread to Theresa Lane, who would say that I knew everything all along, and my lies were starting to unravel. Would Daniel know? Of course, he would—Connors was bound to tell him. I had a sneaky suspicion they were friends outside of work, but Connors never spoke of Daniel other than in passing, and Daniel did the same.
The initial high at finally remembering something, evaporated, leading me to question myself again. Sure, I had something to work with and obviously had passed my first exam to be taken out in the field, but how could I trigger more memories? Jayson had practically pulled that one from me… what if I couldn’t continue doing the same?
Upon entering my cell, I let myself slide down the wall until my ass hit the cold floor, and I stretched my legs out in front of me. Oh, to get through Sunday. Then I could talk to Daniel and see what he thought about all of this new information. It was okay to be optimistic, right?
My thoughts reverted to Jayson. I really did feel sorry for him. In my opinion, the boy had done nothing wrong, but as a member of the UPDC it was not in my job description to question the Grand Master’s rules and punishments. They had been set into law long before I was born. I closed my eyes and replayed the memory in my head.
I remembered accompanying a retrieval officer, Sommers, into a detainment centre in central London. I had never left the Island before and excitement sang in my bones. Dressed in my navy uniform, I felt powerful and respected as we were greeted by nods and hellos as we sauntered into the building like we were in charge.
Sommers had told me to hang back and observe while he went to the desk and signed the paperwork. I followed orders. Only one cell was occupied, and it was an old one, all metal bars, and key locks. For me, it was like the words I had read on paper to describe the cells coming to life. A young boy sat in the cell, his head in his hands. I felt sorry for him being stuck in there.
My partner finished up with the officer at the desk, and they both approached the cell. The desk officer, who smelled of cheap beer and cigarettes, put a rusted key in the lock and with a groan, the door opened and the boy darted to his feet.
“Jayson Ferguson. You have been charged with manslaughter and have been sentenced to execution on the day of your eighteenth birthday. Step forward, arms out, please.” Shock sent a shiver through me as the boy stepped out and held out his hands. Sommers motioned for me to do the honours, and with a heavy heart, I snapped the metal cuffs in place. At the time, it was our only way to restrain him until his behaviour chip was installed.
Sommers pushed Jayson forward, and he walked between us. The ride to the plane was silent except the whir of the car’s engine which dominated until we boarded the plane and tied Jayson in with his seatbelt. He finally relaxed into his seat.
When Sommers went up to speak to the pilot while waiting for one more prisoner to board, I slipped Jayson the water and whispered in his ear. Today, I had perfect recollection of the event—from the smell of the gas-guzzler of a car to the stench of the heat riddled plane.
I had shown some kindness to a prisoner, even empathized with him. Karma had returned something small, but important, to me. Jayson’s last words rang in my head. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
And from now on, I wouldn’t.
9
Daniel
“I’ve been thinking of everything I used to want to be.
I’ve been thinking of everything, of me, of you and me.”
(30 Seconds to Mars: The story)
Speaking to my dad after such a long time did nothing to brighten my mood. In fact, it ended up being a rushed fifteen-minute conversation that left a bad taste in my mouth. We refrained from exchanging pleasantries, leaping straight to the point of my call. I did not ask about his new family, and he never asked how my aunt was. I explained a few things to him, and when I had finished, the cruel bastard laughed. As a boy, I had objected to his activities, so he saw no need to provide me with any help now.
It had taken a lot out of me to phone my father, and he had proved me right after all these years by hanging up on me. Apparently, escaping to the Free Islands had done nothing for his fatherly skills. My mother would be turning in her grave if she knew we were so estranged and that I didn’t even know the names of my siblings. My aunt never spoke of her brother much, and I always thought she did it so I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.
Staring at the phone, I half expected him to call back. It never happened. I suppose it did make me angry, but in hindsight, what did I expect from a man I shared nothing but DNA with? Time to come up with a plan B.
A slight rap on my door startled me back to the present, and I looked up in time to see a piece of paper slide under the door. When I approached the door, I crouched down and picked it up, turning it over in my fingertips. Recognizing the scrawl of handwriting of my name, I unfolded the note and read it:
Danny-boy,
Your girl remembered something. Jayson did as you instructed, and Alana ended up remembering in front of a few of us. The incident that Jayson told you about… where he had first met Alana… that’s what she remembered. It’s a good sign, right? But be wary. The warden has told us to keep a close eye on your girl.
The note wasn’t signed, but I recognized Chris Connors’ handwriting. He was also the only person who called Alana your girl. Was it too early to get excited? It was just a small memory that had returned—nothing major. But until the day I saw the light go out of her brown eyes for the last time—I would grasp hold of that tiny spark of hope. Then I would pray for it to ignite the flame that would uncover the truth Alana so desperately needed.
Glancing at my watch, I realized I was going to be late for our weekly staff meeting if I didn’t get a move on. Monday mornings always brought trepidation that I would be discovered, that someone would turn up in the UPDC from the centre who’d seen me and Alana together. That would be it—no epic end to our story—a failure so immense I would never recover.
I left my office, a folder in my hand, and headed down the hall away from the prisoners’ section. Swiping my ID over a panel, the door slid open, and the metal elevator doors appeared. Standing still for a few minutes, a camera rotated above my head, the doors opened, and I stepped inside. I pretended to flip through paperwork as the elevator crept upwards. The cameras hummed and the elevator whirred, but I tried to ignore them. The sound was as annoying as a fly that occupied your bedroom at night and just would not leave.