by HMC
‘Is it coincidence that none of us know our real parents?’
‘Well, I’ll have to admit that’s a little more significant.’ Jade had known it but it hadn’t seemed important before.
‘That’s not all there is. There are blank spots in our memories.’
‘Blank spots?’
‘Chunks. Big chunks of time, where there’s ... nothing.’
‘It makes sense, Sam. You all had, sorry for lack of a better way to put it, crappy childhoods. It’s normal for people to block out pieces. It’s a coping mechanism. Very common.’
‘I know.’ Suddenly, a torrent of pent-up words burst forth from the young patient.
‘There are numbers tattooed on the back of George’s neck. He doesn’t know where they came from. I once painted my entire apartment with those same numbers.’ She drew breath. ‘I know we’re just throwing things around here but what the hell does that mean, Jade? How common is that? Please explain it to me because I’m about to tear my hair out.’ Sam had a weary anger that Jade hadn’t seen in her before.
‘Are you sure they are the same? Exactly?’
‘Yes, I wrote them down after it happened. It’s not something you forget. 1842.’ Jade jotted the numbers down on to her notepad as Sam went on. ‘I don’t know if it’s a date or a code, but we both have it buried in our subconscious. The numbers make me feel anxious. I even think he knows what they are and he won’t tell me.’
‘Okay. Go on.’
‘Then there’s the scars.’ Sam looked down.
‘Scars?’
‘We all have them.’
Oh dear.
‘Stop.’ Jade had heard enough. Her patients were far worse off than she thought and they were leading each other to one wormhole of a mass delusion. Sam seemed to sense Jade’s shutdown.
‘Then again, maybe we’re just stringing random ideas together to try to make sense of it all.’ Sam smiled, but it looked more like a wince to Jade.
‘Are you just saying that for my benefit?’
‘No, Jade – I really think we could be making things up and scaring each other. I just don’t know. One minute I’m certain and the next I have no idea.’
‘I see why you’re exhausted.’ She shifted in her chair. It was time to inject a little reality into the proceedings. ‘I know you’re aware that measures have been taken to assure your safety, Sam. The home is under surveillance and the person who tried to kill you is dead.’
‘Okay.’
‘You’re looking for reasons, but what you’re really doing is damaging yourself and your friends.’
‘My friends?’
‘Freddy and George – they need you. You’re a leader around here, and if you’re going around buying into foolishness, then they’ll follow.’
Sam looked completely defeated. She looked too exhausted to take anything else in. ‘We’ll talk more later.’ Jade pressed the bell for Anne. ‘I’ll be staying here tonight and all of tomorrow. So if you need my help, you know what to do – all right?’
‘All right.’ Anne came in and ushered Sam back down the hall and into the common room.
Jade sat back in her chair and tried to be calm and rational but there were things Sam had mentioned that reminded her of something. She ripped open her filing cabinet and flipped through – looking for a particular section of Dr. Harry Hanson’s notes. She was sure that there had been some strange rant about children and how important they were for the project. She thought he’d been talking about Green’s work at the university. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
Jade had to tell herself that the worst possible thing she could do right now was to buy into the ideas Sam was creating.
The doctor turned to grab her newspaper to reread the article about the missing weapon to try to figure it all out. But it was gone.
A FLUSH WITH A BANG
A newspaper thumped onto George Barter’s lap. He looked down and read the article Sam was pointing to. After his non-reactive examination he sat back, with his favourite book closed on his lap.
‘What do you want now?’ he grumbled.
Sam pulled a chair over to sit in front of him. Her impish features hardened.
‘George, I want to ask you a few questions about this little piece of news I’ve found. Interesting, isn’t it?’ He looked down to examine the article more carefully. Sam waited for him to finish.
‘Where’s the gun, George? You know the cops will be here for you soon. They’ve looked everywhere for it. You’ve either hidden it ridiculously well or keep moving it around between the two of you.’
‘The two of who?’
‘You know who I’m talking about. You and Damon. I can’t believe you kept this from me. I thought we were friends now.’
‘We are!’
‘Shh. Anne will hear. And anyway, friends don’t keep secrets like that, George.’
‘Well, forgive me if I’m not the poster boy for solidarity. I’ve never liked … people … before.’
George gave in. He passed her The Chronicles of Narnia and waited. She looked at him in question and then back down at the book. She opened it. The pages had been cut out to house the black gun and its unattached silencer.
It was heavier than she expected a gun to be. They looked so light and easy to use in the movies. Sam might’ve been a criminal, but she had never been into guns; she couldn’t trust herself with something so dangerous.
George looked glad that she had the book in her hands, rather than in his. Sam wondered how long anyone could’ve kept it up: sitting in a hard chair on high alert, while harbouring a murder weapon.
The gun meant to kill me.
George’s voice was gentle when he spoke. ‘Damon shot the guy with his own gun that night. He had to hide this gun because he didn’t use it. You follow? Guess he didn’t know Martha was already dead with different bullets inside her. Might be an army man but you can’t hear a silenced bullet go into someone’s head on the other side of a hospital, over the sound of a thunderstorm.’ George clearly revelled in his superior knowledge.
Sam didn’t notice. She was far too lost in what he’d just said.
George continued. ‘Damon said he couldn’t tell me who he was but that he was on our side. He said that it was best if I was to let him tell the story and that I pretended I couldn’t remember, as if I was in shock. After we went into the common room to wait for the police, Damon and I snuck into the bathroom and he put the gun into the toilet thingy – totally disgusting. You know that place you can open up and see the toilet water? It flushes and all the water goes down and you can see the valves.’
‘The tank. Yes, I know.’ Sam was highly entertained by George’s disgust.
‘Well he already had a Velcro thing there, where he could attach it to the underside and close it back up. He said that he was leaving it there for my protection, very thoughtful really. Anyway I can’t carry a toilet around with me and what if it got wet? The gun, not the toilet. Good lot of use it would do me then, eh? So I found my own little hidey place, very clever. The worst part is I ruined my favourite book for it.’
Sam thought for a moment. ‘So the police know there were two different weapons? Why aren’t they here looking for it?’ She tried to keep her voice down as George feigned boredom. He may’ve been slightly crushed at the moment – but he could never quite escape being the prick that he was, deep down.
‘Really, Samantha. Please do try to keep up.’
The death-ray glare with which she responded to that comment caused an instant attitude adjustment on his part and he leaned forward with more camaraderie. ‘Think about it. Damon said he was on our side; he’s leaving the gun for ‘protection’. Clearly he is an official. Whoever he is, whatever organisation he’s from, they obviously know he’s armed. They’ve probably already come up with another weapon to hand into the po
lice. The story wasn’t even on the front page, where it belonged. Instead it’s here on what, page 30? What could be more interesting in Fairholmes than a murder … a goddamn talking parakeet?’ George glanced over his shoulder and continued, in a whisper. ‘They ARE the police – probably some special forces branch. They’re part of the investigation. They can do whatever they want to keep their man Damon undercover.’
Sam frowned. He was absolutely right. But what were they investigating? Why the hell did they need protection? Sam wanted to talk to Jade again. She wanted to be told that this was just a figment of her imagination, one that was out of control. Then someone would jump out and tell her it was all a joke and she would try to laugh with them.
That’s what she wished would happen. But, it wasn’t going to.
It was decided. Sam was leaving tonight, before she completely lost her mind. She almost chuckled at the irony.
‘You know the gun and silencer need to go to Dr. Thatcher, George. Whatever is going on, she’s the one who can help us.’
George snatched the book back and held it up to his chest tightly.
‘Damon’s been trying to take the book off me ever since he got back. But I don’t need his protection anymore. Now I’m armed.’
‘The gun is safer in the toilet,’ Sam said.
‘That’s what Damon said. But I told him if he tried to take it, I’d rat him out.’ George loved his American cop shows.
Sam was furious. ‘Nice, George. After all he’s done for you? He saved your life. Besides he probably only wants it back so he can hide it better. Or maybe he wants to keep protecting us. He’s much better at it than you are. You’re fucking things up – not only for him, but for all of us, aren’t you? When the police show up, you know that they’ll take that book from you straight away. The wrong police I mean; the ones who aren’t on our side.’
George’s eyes widened. He only had to think for a couple of seconds. ‘Will you come with me to give it to him?’
She softened a little. ‘Sure.’ Damon had some serious explaining to do.
Damon Speirlsman sat in solitary lock-down. He had been dumped back into an absolute mess; but before leaving, he’d given a gun to a lunatic, which seemed like a good idea at the time. At least they’d have some protection. However, now he couldn’t get George to give it up and he hadn’t been issued with another when he’d returned to base with Grady.
‘Get it back’ was all he had been told.
‘You confiscated mine from the crime scene!’
‘Use the perp’s. We can’t send you in armed, you’ll be searched, and after all that’s gone down, they’ll probably check places you didn’t even know you had. His boss had been right. He had been seriously strip searched before being allowed back into the home. ‘Not to mention the major jam we’re in because of your little performance. It’s going to be hard to clean it up, and walking around behind an elephant with a dustpan and broom is not part of my job description!’
‘You never said they were after any of the women! If I’d known he’d used his gun already, you think I would’ve switched them out?’
‘That was an assumption you shouldn’t have made.’
Right again … but come on …
‘Sort it out. We need more time.’ Grady had been having a fit and was hard to calm down. Damon didn’t know how much longer they could hold out. It was going to get worse, and soon.
It was time to do something. But what? He’d been told to stay put and watch. Sit and watch. Something will come. Just like it had last time. What was he supposed to do when it did happen? It was time to break out of this room and into Dr. Green’s office. Although he’d been warned against it, told he’d find nothing, it was worth a try. He couldn’t sit on his hands any longer. He wanted this thing over because he was starting to care about these people – not a good thing in his line of work.
If something had happened to Freddy, he’d never forgive himself.
Just as he stood, Sam and George barged into his room.
‘Going somewhere, Tiger?’ She looked pissed.
‘How did you get in here?’ Damon was impressed.
‘Never mind. We’ll ask the questions.’
She knows. She was crafty this one; a real piece of work. George still had that stupid book pinned to his chest like a badge. He could tear it away from him now but it wasn’t worth the risk. It never took Anne long to arrive. He’d still be struggling with George when she did.
‘Give it to him now please, George.’ Sam’s words were soft but her tone was firm. He handed over the book.
Victory.
‘Thank you.’ Damon opened the book. ‘Not my preferred choice of weapon, but beggars can’t be choosers.’ He played with it for a moment and then slid the gun, silencer, and book for good measure, under his mattress. He then sat quietly, hands folded. ‘Let’s make this quick. That nurse is good at spotting missing patients.’
Freddy moved through the common room and past Anne to show that he was still around and not up to mischief, then tiptoed up the women’s wing hallway. He would get into serious trouble being here. He wasn’t even sure if Dr. Green or Morty were even allowed here!
Freddy Parks found himself gasping for breath with unreserved excitement. His back was flat against the wall, his whole body (including fingers) spread wide. He was doing his best to hide, though there was no one to be hiding from. No one had actually seen him enter the hallway.
He’d found the key that unlocked the staffroom. That wasn’t particularly exciting as he’d been there before with Anne. What was exciting was the other door, the one going through the staffroom and to the women’s wing.
He’d never been here before. It was exactly the same as the men’s wing, which he thought was fair, except that everything was opposite. The furniture was on the wrong side.
The best part about it was that he had found the greatest key out of all the keys: the red one. The red one was very special because it actually opened every single door he’d tried so far.
Also, because it matched his socks.
Freddy moved towards the next door and heard a churning sound behind it. He carefully memorised his surroundings so he wouldn’t get lost.
The next room was small and piled high with white sheets. There was a huge washing machine and a dryer. The laundry room. No wonder Nurse Anne complained about all the washing she had to do. There were heaps everywhere.
When Freddy looked up he noticed another door with a window in it. A tiny square of sunshine filtered in through the pane and made a glowing patch of warmth on his face. It opened to the outside.
He peered through the small window and saw lots of clothes lines filled with sheets and pillowcases. There was a patch of grass and a couple of chairs with a half-full ashtray sitting on a small table between them. Behind it all was a fence that Freddy knew he could easily climb.
The rain had stopped, so it looked like Anne wouldn’t have to take in the washing and put it in the dryer. The sun was finally out again.
Freddy tried to open the door with the red key, but it wouldn’t fit. He tried two more before he thought to examine the keyhole and as a result, discovered that it was smaller than usual; so he chose the tiny key on the ring, and opened the door to freedom.
Damon tried to stay calm in the face of Sam’s wrath.
‘That’s it! That’s all you’re going to tell me? That we’re going to be all right? What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and wait ’til something else happens? If you don’t tell me what this is about, right now, I’m going to tell Jade everything!’
Damon held his breath for a few seconds before speaking. ‘And who do you think they’re going to believe?’ He was good at being politely poisonous. ‘Yes, they may think both of us are crazy, but whose story sounds the craziest, Sam, yours or mine?’ He hated treating her this way, but it had
to be done, and the guilt passed faster than he thought it would. It was for her own good. The more she knew, the deeper the trouble.
‘You bastard!’ Her eyes shone with angry tears.
George was sitting quietly in the corner and had obviously had about enough of this; he moved to leave. But before he could make good his escape, Sam caught him. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘I’m going to make my presence known in the common room so that Anne doesn’t become too suspicious. Calm down before she hears us. You want to be the boss, fine – but stop being such a bitch, will you?’ Then he nodded at Damon and strode back to the safety of his guard chair.
Samantha Phillips surrendered. ‘Okay.’ She sat down on Damon’s bed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I can’t tell you what you want to know.’ Damon bowed his head. He meant it.
‘I understand. I’m angry because Jade had me convinced that no one was really after us and that the shootings were random. But you ... you being here just reinforces the fact that they aren’t random at all – that we’re in real danger. I just really need to know why, Damon. I’m not used to feeling helpless. I’m supposed to be the strong one.’ She managed a half-smile. ‘I’m not used to feeling anything. I’m used to looking for trouble just so that I can feel something. I’m a mess.’ She threw her hands up and Damon caught them in his. He knew it was just a reflex but she snatched them away.
‘You’re not a mess.’
Sam tried to calm herself. ‘What can I do?’
Damon shrugged. ‘I don’t really know. Just keep your eyes open.’
‘That’s it?’
‘No.’
‘What else?’
‘If something were to happen … would you be able to get out of here, Sam?’
‘You mean escape? Sure.’
He felt guilty to have to ask, but it was important. ‘What about the other women?’
