The battering hadn’t been a dream. This was Death working its magic, filling him up to the brim with life before it took it all away. He was transformed. He was quick, smart, and strong. He was capable of anything …
And then he was going to die.
Adam stared at his reflection. This was him. A week to live? He tried to imagine himself dead and gone, tried to feel the stab of fear that must be in there somewhere. But he was too full of life. This was what it must have been like for Jimmy Earle. Now he got it. He stared at his fingers, the whorls on the tips, the flesh and blood and bone of them. They were a miracle of engineering. He was a miracle. Life itself was a miracle. The pattern of the wallpaper, the colors on the carpet. Outside the window a bird sang. That was a miracle. The whole glorious pageant of life was beating, beating — waiting for him to start up and go. And he was a part of it.
One week, eh? Death was on his heels, was it? He’d out-run it, out-gun it, out-smart it, out-live it — and then welcome it like an old friend. He gasped as another rush sped through him, smooth, fast, flawless. And it was still getting better! One week was plenty of time to do all the things he needed to do. How much real living did the average person get through in eighty or ninety years? How long did they spend staring at the wall, ashamed, asleep, doped up, stupid, whatever? How many of them were truly alive, the way he was alive right now? How many of them understood the glory and beauty of it? Hardly any. Maybe none at all. One week was time enough to do everything in the world so long as you lived hard enough, fierce enough, young enough, true enough. The rest of it was just waiting to die.
The waiting was over. It was time to live — right now!
No regrets. Regrets were for the little people. Hope was for the angels. For one week, Adam was one of them.
He wanted to run out into the sun and start at once. Even sitting here, just breathing, just being alive was good — but the precious seconds were ticking past so fast.
The bucket list! His last deeds on earth. He grabbed a pencil and some paper and began to write.
Fall in love.
What was he talking about? He was in love! Start again.
Sex with Lizzie. Get her pregnant.
Yeah. He wanted to leave something behind. A son! He wanted a son. He’d always thought he’d have children one day. Not so soon — but now he didn’t have time to waste. He had to make it happen.
Loads of sex with loads of girls. Several of them at once.
Too right! He had a lifetime of shagging to get done in one week. One girl wasn’t going to be able to keep up with that.
What else? Money. Yeah. He needed some money to spend. The life he was going to pack in didn’t come cheap. And … his parents! People were going to miss him. He had to make it all right for them after he was gone.
Get rich. Leave my parents and Lizzie with enough money so they’ll never have to work again.
Unable to stay still any longer, Adam jumped up and skittered around the room. He was wasting time! He had to get moving.
He got back to his desk and finished the list with a flourish.
Drink champagne till I can’t stand.
Do cocaine.
Drive a supercar around Manchester.
Kill someone who deserves to die.
Do something so that humanity will remember me forever.
Die on the Himalayas, watching the sun go down.
Adam read it through. Yeah. It was a good list. It was a great list. It was a life’s work, and it was doable. No problem. First off — Lizzie. Love. He wanted her at his side while he lived his last week on earth. He took out his phone and rang. No answer. OK. She was still cross. Yeah, well, so she’d had a bad time, so had he. Was he sulking about it? No, he was not. And shit, he was going to die!
He was going to die …
Don’t think it, don’t think it. Don’t think anything. You don’t dare. You have to live.
He texted: Lizzie, I love you! Got grt news! Rng me!
What next? Money. Hey! He already had some. He rummaged about in the covers for the pills he’d stolen from Garry. Death. Magic! These were worth a fortune. He was going to be living like a god for the next seven days.
Adam leaned into the mirror and grinned at himself. Despite the life that was fizzing inside him, his face looked back at him like a grinning grim reaper. He stared in horror for a moment, then flung himself back into action. He put on his clothes and hurried downstairs. He had to keep moving; he had to keep going. But as he vaulted down the last three steps, he felt a hard, hot little fizz burrowing its way around and around his stomach. What was that … ?
It was fear. Fear that he’d thrown away his one golden gateway into this stunning, unaccountable universe. Even now, when the drug was at its height inside him, filling his senses with love and joy, there was despair as well. It was part of the deal. Adam stood at the bottom of the stairs and panted with terror as he thought of how much he had thrown away.
There’s no antidote, he thought. Don’t waste time even worrying about it. No regrets! He swung round the banister and into the kitchen. Don’t think, just live. That was what life was all about. That was what life had always been about, if only he’d had the courage. Well, now he had no choice.
Don’t think. Don’t care. Just do.
* * *
His dad was sitting at the table studying something on the laptop. He was always taking courses, trying to find a way back into work. It was languages now. What a joke. His dad was rubbish at languages. He’d never liked studying — his brain was in his hands, his mum always said. It was just fate that when he’d had an accident, it was his hands that caught it.
“Where’s Mum?” asked Adam. She always waited to greet him, every morning.
“Gone to bed.” He looked up coldly at Adam. For a second Adam was confused — what had he done wrong? Then he remembered. Jess. The party. Shit.
“I’m sorry,” he began, but then he was angry, too. He had one week to live. What was he supposed to do, sit around holding hands with them because of bloody Jess?
“I don’t understand you. Your brother is dead and you run away from us. This is a time we should be together,” said his father.
“He lied to us about everything, that’s not my fault,” said Adam. He stood by the counter, thinking, What am I doing here? He was wasting time.
“Your mother is upset,” said his dad. As he spoke, his eyes filled with tears and Adam’s heart went out to him. He’d made his family his life’s work. First his hands had been broken, then his eldest son had died. And now Adam, too, was going to leave him. What did the old man have left, out of the treasure chest of his life? A surge of love ran through Adam. He ran across and seized his father around the chest.
“It’s going to be all right. I have a plan. Gonna hit the big time, Dad!” It was what his dad always used to say, back in the day.
His dad shook his head and pushed weakly against Adam’s arms. He looked so broken. “No, no, I understand how you feel, Adam. You having to leave school to support me. It’s wrong. I’ve let you all down …”
Adam laughed. His dad thought everything was lost. How wrong could you be? Brilliant! “No. Really! I have a plan. We’re going to make the big time.”
His dad’s brow creased. “Work …” he began.
“No, not work. A proper plan. You’ll see. I love you, Dad.” He leaned forward and planted a great big kiss on his dad, right on the smacker. His dad almost jumped back. They weren’t a kissing family.
“Oh my God!” he said. But then he smiled and hugged Adam back. “I love you, too, Adam. I never say, but I do. Always remember that.”
For a moment Adam wanted to tell his dad everything, but he didn’t dare. Instead, he turned and ran. “There’ll be enough money for everything,” he shouted over his shoulder.
Behind him his dad rose to his feet, alarmed. “What are you doing? Come back! No trouble, Adam! No trouble …” But Adam was out the door and away, off to fulfi
ll his destiny, off to make his dreams come true and turn the world into a better place for everyone who loved him. He had one week to do it.
* * *
You don’t dare think and you feel so much and you feel so good and you’re so scared, and you so much want to live but you’re not going to. And the life is fizzling out of your fingertips and if someone came up to you right now and said, “You can have your life back but you won’t ever feel like this again” — what would you say? Because this is Death. Death is the cost of life, of all this beauty and joy and love. No more joy forever, not like this, not real joy …
No! No! No! Of course you’d say no. Yes to joy and love and beauty and Death, and no to year after year of being half-alive and never knowing what life is about. You have to look life in the face now. You have no choice. You made your choice when you swallowed that little pill. So no, you wouldn’t swap this for all the world, you can’t, not for your mum and dad whose hearts will be broken, not for Lizzie, not for yourself. Not for anything.
And you ride the bus so full of joy and tears and youth and life and death, you hardly know what to do with yourself, except that whatever it is, it has to start now, right now, because this is it, my friend, what you’re doing now, right here, this moment, this one precious moment in time called now. It’s all you have. Don’t waste it. There’s so little of it left.
The bus sped along. Adam tried not to think. Regret it, forget it, regret it, forget it, his brain sang and sang and sang, all the way out to Wilmslow.
* * *
Lizzie rose out of sleep like a turtle surfacing in a sewer. She felt disgusting — sick, headachy, and anxious, too, as if the events of last night were still happening. Someone was banging on the window.
It had to be her dad. Have some respect for the dying. She pulled the covers over her head and tried to ignore it. It would go away. The world would go away. Even this headache would go away, eventually.
No. Louder than ever! Unbelievable, what selfishness. It was right by her ear, right by her damn ear! In the darkness she ground her teeth. Monday mornings during break were not for consciousness. He knew that. He was being a bastard.
She lifted her sore head. “Go away!” she roared. But even as she bellowed she remembered that her room was way up high on the second floor. She peered over her shoulder. There was a gap in the curtains just big enough for her to see that the bastard was Adam. He was standing outside her window, grinning at her like a maniac.
Lizzie stared at him a moment, then laid her head back down. Clearly she was still asleep, dreaming.
The events of last night came avalanching back to her at the exact same moment as she realized that this was real. She clawed herself around and stared. Yep. Adam, balancing on her window ledge, twenty feet up — Jesus!
She started to leap out of bed to open the window and save his life, when she realized she had nothing on. Conscious of how pathetic it was to let someone die rather than let him see her naked in his last seconds, she wrapped the comforter around herself and shot over to the window. Adam looked completely comfortable. He grinned and let go of the window frame so that he fell slightly backward, making her stomach vault inside her as she fumbled at the catch.
“You idiot,” she hissed.
She opened the flap at the top of the window, scared that if she opened the main one she’d knock him off. As she did so, the comforter fell half off her and she had to snatch at it. Adam smiled happily and let out a low whistle.
“What are you doing? How did you get up there?”
“I climbed.”
“No, you didn’t.” Lizzie peered out. How had he done it? When she was little she used to look out her window when she’d been locked in her room, imagining the climb down. There were a few old screws that had once been used for wires to hold up a climbing plant. Apart from that, nothing.
“How did you do it?” she demanded.
“Let me in,” pleaded Adam.
She had no choice. She opened the window. He stepped in and went to grab her, but she twisted away. “You must be off your head. Get out of here!”
“Lizzie — please!”
“I mean it, Adam. You were a total shit last night.” She peered at him, aware that she looked a mess and, despite herself, feeling a bit of a tingle at his closeness to her, here in her bedroom, while she held on to the comforter to hide her nakedness.
“I know I was. But listen — Jess has died.”
“What? Jess … ?”
“I was scared to tell you.”
“Adam …” Lizzie made a face and fell onto the bed. She was hardly awake. This was bending her brain.
“I’ve got to leave school. Dad has no money. Jess earned everything.”
Lizzie shook her head. “I need some painkillers. Hang on …” She went to her table, still clutching at the comforter, and swallowed some aspirin. She got back into bed, folded the comforter tightly around her, and glared at him. Adam slowly sat down beside her and gave her a lopsided grin. Lizzie shook her head, but inside she felt a lot less cool than she made out. He had scaled the wall of her house to reach her window. It was like Romeo and Juliet. He was in her bedroom. No one knew he was there. He looked gorgeous. His blue eyes, a bit of a sweat on him. Actually, truth be told, he looked really gorgeous — more so than normal, and she had really fancied him right from the off.
And his brother was dead. Shit. It began to sink in. Something dreadful had happened. But how come he was looking so happy?
“Go on, then,” she said. “This had better be good.”
* * *
As Adam’s story unfolded, Lizzie felt a column of panic rising inside her. Jess dead. No wonder Adam was so weird at the party. Having to leave school and get a crap job. It all got worse and worse and worse, but normal worse. And then — Death. He’d taken Death.
When he said it, she laughed. It wasn’t pleasure; it was fear. She couldn’t take on what it meant. This sort of thing happened to other people. It was not possible that something like this could enter her own life.
“I don’t believe you,” she said.
“I climbed your wall,” said Adam. “Just the gaps between the bricks, with my fingers and my toes. I’m like — I’m alive for the first time. Really, really alive. Look.”
He had the evidence in his face, in his looks, in the speed and fire of him. But he had concrete evidence as well. He rummaged around in the little backpack on his shoulder and pulled out the little bag of pills.
“Oh my God.”
“See?”
It was true. “Adam! What have you done?” It sent a chill of excitement and fear right through her. He was doomed — and he looked so alive! “Why did you do it?”
Adam looked appalled. “Don’t say that,” he said. “I have my week, Lizzie. It’s going to be the best week anyone ever had. And I want to spend it with you.”
“Oh my God.” She put her hand to her mouth and shook her head. She wasn’t saying no, but Adam nodded at her anyway — willing her, willing her, willing her to say yes! Yes to everything. He was breaking her heart — right now, breaking it in pieces. She could feel it cracking inside her. She hadn’t even known she was in love.
“Say yes. Say yes,” Adam pushed on relentlessly. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I love you,” he said. “Just love me back. For one week. Say yes. Please, Lizzie.”
She heard the desperation in his voice and shook her head. “What do you want from me, Adam? I can’t save your life.”
“I don’t want to be saved. I told you. I want to spend my last week with you. How can you say no?”
Lizzie clutched at her head. She was trying to think, but her mind shied away. “It’s too much,” she said. “You’re asking … I don’t know what you’re asking!”
“I’m asking for one week of your time.”
“It’s not one week! It’s your whole life! You’re asking me to watch you die. It’s like — getting married or something.”
> “Pretty short marriage,” Adam said, and despite herself, she snorted with laughter.
“You’re something else, Adam, you know that?”
“I am now,” he said seriously.
She was about to tell him that he had always been something else, that he always had been worth it, but what was the point? It was too late for home truths. Lizzie couldn’t help being flattered and deeply moved. He had one week to live and out of all the things in the world, all the people, all the places, he wanted her.
One week, she thought. So little time to live your life. Could she do this for him, and then just walk away and get on with her own life with only memories to keep her company? But what memories they would be!
An idea suddenly hit her. “You’ve got a list, haven’t you?”
Adam’s eyes swiveled briefly as he tried to remember what was on it. How many girls … ? “I’m … still working on it.”
“Hand it over.”
“It’s private, Lizzie.”
“Private? You want me to drop everything for you, and what we’re going to do is private?”
“I only did it this morning,” said Adam. “It’s not final.”
Lizzie put out her hand. “Give.”
Adam dug in his pocket and pulled it out. He cast a glance over it. “Sex figures pretty highly here,” he admitted.
Lizzie snatched it out of his hand and scanned through it.
“At least I’m number one,” she said. Then her eyes bulged. “Pregnant? You want to get me pregnant? And then you’re going to leave me to bring up a kid on my own? Well, fuck you!” She screwed the list into a ball, threw it on the floor. “You’re not even going to be there for the birth, you bastard,” she said, and again, despite herself, she started to laugh. It was just so ridiculous!
Adam grinned at her and picked up the list. “It’s just the first draft. Come on, Lizzie. I mean, wouldn’t you want to leave something behind?”
“Yeah, but I’d like to be around to watch it grow up.” She shook her head. “Pregnant,” she said. “I can’t believe you. Give me that list. Right.” Lizzie took the piece of paper and fumbled on her bedside table for a pen. She scribbled out pregnancy. “OK?”
The Hit Page 7
