The Dream Catcher Diaries

by Alexander Patrick

  **********************

  I gazed down at the four men lying tied up on the floor and, as I did so, a thought occurred to me. ‘Raqeeb, Atheed, check under their left arms.’ They knelt down and began pulling at the sleeves of the men’s clothes.

  Angus came up beside me. ‘What are they doing?’ he asked.

  ‘We never make assumptions,’ I said. ‘We’re checking that they really are Fabian.’

  ‘What are you looking for?’ asked Euan.

  ‘Hasn’t Hamish ever told you?’ I asked.

  Angus shot me a look. He turned to his brother. ‘They’re looking for the mark,’ he said. ‘That’s where they always put it.’

  The four men were checked; each bore the unmistakable mark of Fabian. Unlike mine, and that of the young boy, their marks were proper tattoos, beautifully drawn. A blue inverted cross, three red roses and a black circle surrounding it. This was the true sign of Fabian, not the crude brand that I wore on my neck.

  ‘So,’ said Raqeeb, slightly out of breath, ‘we interrogate them.’

  ‘Yes, but not here,’ said Atheed. His face was wet with nervous sweat.

  ‘We have no choice. We must do it here,’ argued Raqeeb.

  ‘What does Matrix say?’ asked Atheed.

  I hesitated. I was sure we had not seen the truth, not yet. We needed to; lives would depend on it. I sat down heavily on a chair and gazed down at one of the men. I bent over him, resting my elbows on my knees as I did so. ‘Where are they?’ I asked curiously. ‘Where are the workhorses? Where are the discards?’

  The man I had addressed glared up at me from the floor. He craned his neck up and spat at me. The spittle flew out of his mouth and onto my hand. Raqeeb surged forward, angrily, but I held him back. It was enough; now, I knew – a heartbeat was all it took. I gazed back at the man. His face was full of hate. ‘I am Matrix, the Dream Catcher,’ I said, ‘I can see into people’s hearts. I can see into yours. I see the truth. Your hate has exposed it to me.’

  I looked up at Raqeeb and Atheed. ‘Did you see any trap doors?’ I asked.

  Both brothers shrugged their shoulders. ‘We didn’t look, why?’

  ‘I want you to search this house one more time, ground floor only. You’re looking for trap doors.’ I turned to Angus. ‘You and your brothers can help.’

  He hesitated for a moment and then nodded. I remained seated and watched the bound men; I waited for them as they searched.

  **********************

  I was soon to find out why Whitey had disobeyed his leader and not destroyed me as instructed. A week later, Amos was preparing me for the arrival of Paula. I was terrified, and he knew it. I always knew when he was coming. Amos spread rubber sheets over the floor – a personal request. He stripped me of my irons and took out the lock – another personal request. Finally, he put me in my welcoming position.

  The welcoming position varied; tonight, I was hanging naked from wristbands attached to a chain from the ceiling. My arms were tied behind me and attached to a narrow belt around my waist. It meant that I was swinging from behind, hanging part way upside down. It put an impossible pressure on my arms. Pain shot up through them and into my shoulders as I tried to adjust my hanging position.

  When Amos had finished he asked Mother what she thought. ‘Ugly, as ever,’ she commented.

  ‘Perhaps, but, tonight, I think we’re going to be made an offer we can’t refuse.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean Matrix’s days with us are numbered.’

  **********************

  I stared at them, gagged and helpless. They looked like anybody else. Nothing marked them as being evil; nothing marked them as my enemy – nothing, that is, except the tattoos on their left arms, the hidden tattoos that spoke of whispered oaths and evil deeds. That and the way they had flinched at being touched by two Asian men.

  **********************

  ‘Paula’s made an offer?’

  ‘Yep!’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘We’ve suggested a price. He’s going to tell us tonight whether he’ll pay it.’

  ‘And if he doesn’t?’

  ‘I’ll drop, if I need to. This one’s had it; he’s looking worn out. Look at the state of his body. It looks like the wall of a public toilet.’

  She laughed. ‘How long will he last?’

  ‘Who cares? We’ll get another one. There’s plenty more where this one came from.’

  He walked up to my suspended body and gently pushed me to and fro, chatting as he did so. ‘Paula wants to buy your ugly body, Matrix. He’s got so many plans for you!’ He gave me another gentle shove, and I swung away from him and back again. I moved my arms trying to lesson the pain.

  Like a pendulum, I swung at the end of his chain, and he continued to talk. ‘He’s got a house full of people just like him. He’s told them all about you. What he’s done and what he’d like to do.’ He grabbed me as I swung to him. ‘You should see the corpses that come out of that house!’ he crowed. ‘You wouldn’t recognise them as human, just bloody torsos! At what point do you think you’ll die, Matrix? I’m told that, for most, it’s not until the end, not until there is nothing but ...’

  I had my revenge. I’d emptied my bladder all down his front.

  **********************

  I heard a shout. I’d been expecting it. I had worked it out. I knew where they were. It was simply a matter of finding the door.

  I hobbled to where I’d heard the cry of triumph. It was Stewart. He was standing astride a wide trap door – a double, the kind that opens up from the centre. There was a handle on each door. It had been hidden underneath a bench. I could see where Stewart had pushed it across the floor, leaving track marks in the filth and grime.

  He bent down to open it. ‘Not yet!’ I said sharply. He paused and looked at me and then he stepped back.

  We were soon joined by the others. ‘Be prepared,’ I said. Raqeeb and Atheed nodded and they pulled out a sturdy gun each. They held them ready. Angus looked, momentarily, taken aback, then he smiled. I could tell that the two brothers had gone up in his estimation. He pulled out his own gun, different to the one he had threatened Sonia with. Euan and Stewart had their knives out. Raqeeb and Atheed positioned themselves in front of me to protect me, and the doors were opened.

  The smell that hit me told me that I had been right and that I was probably already too late. It was the smell of death.

  We found a switch to light the interior, and then Raqeeb and Atheed lowered me down, cautiously. Angus and Stewart were already down there. Euan was told to wait on top in case any more Fabian returned.

  The underground room was vast. It was gloomy, even with light, with low ceilings, damp walls and an earthen floor, but I guess that it stretched across the entire foundations of the building.

  This was where they kept them, the workhorses, discards used primarily for slave labour. We found twenty down there, children, men and women. Some were already dead, some were dying. It was hard to tell at first. They all bore the mark of Fabian on their left cheeks. Those who still breathed were skin and bone and covered in cuts and bruises. They lay on the floor, some were in cages, all were in shackles. The smell was overpowering, the smell of incarceration, no toilets and dark air.

  I fell down on my knees beside the body of a young boy. He couldn’t have been more than thirteen. I thought he must be dead; he lay so still. I touched him and he flinched. I realised why he was so still: he was dressed in the breaking irons, he couldn’t move and I guessed he was wearing the lock.

  Raqeeb and Atheed were moving amongst the other bodies, checking to see who was still alive. I could hear groans and whimpering. ‘Get more help!’ I cried.

  ‘Done,’ returned Atheed.

  I looked down at the boy. Angus came down beside me. I opened my shoulder bag and pulled out a container and some surgical gloves. ‘Make yourself useful,’ I said to Angus. I gave him the container.

 
‘What are you going to do?’ he asked, holding the container.

  ‘Release some of the pain,’ I replied.

  Raqeeb came across. ‘We need the doc,’ he said.

  I said nothing; I was concentrating. I placed two fingers inside the boy’s mouth, feeling for the tiny levers. I felt them, touched them and heard the double click. Swiftly, I pulled the lock out and threw it into the container. Angus looked at it in disgust. I pulled the boy’s head forward, pushing his chin down onto his chest. That would have hurt, but I had no choice. ‘Spit!’ I ordered. He spat; he had done this before. I poured water in his mouth. ‘Spit!’ I said again. He spat again. I laid his head back. I turned to Raqeeb. ‘I want these irons off. Find some clothes.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Raqeeb! We’re in a fucking clothing factory!’

  ‘Oh!’ Raqeeb disappeared.

  I looked down at the boy. I held his head in my arms. He opened his eyes and looked up at me.

  ‘Don’t die on me now,’ I said softly. The boy was staring at me. He held out his hand and touched my neck, the Fabian mark. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’m one of you. My name is Matrix.’ I was sure he was going to be the second child to die in my arms that night. Still he stared, unsure, afraid. ‘I’m going to take you to a safe house,’ I said. ‘We’ll get these bloody irons off you, dress you and take you somewhere where no one will ever hurt you again; you just need to live.’

  He touched my cheeks; he felt the tears. He knew. ‘Matrix!’ he whispered. He had a voice, it was broken to be sure, but the lock had not taken it.

  I laughed. ‘Shit! You’re Scottish! What the fuck are you doing here?’

  He smiled – yellow teeth with gaps, but a smile.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I asked.

  ‘My real name?’ It was a soft Edinburgh accent. It made me think of my brother.

  ‘Yes, your real name.’

  He smiled again. ‘Todd, but they call me Sweeney.’

  Raqeeb was back. ‘Well, Sweeney, let’s get these bloody things off you and put you in some clothes. Hope you don’t mind pink!’

  Raqeeb was colour-blind.

  Chapter 35

  We moved amongst the bodies. I took two more locks out and we released one from the bridle. Five were in breaking irons. Seven were already dead, three of them were children. Half were Down syndrome. All were nothing but skeletons. No one had been down to see to them for days. I have no idea how any of them survived. The Mackay brothers helped release people from their bonds; they were busy – we all were.

  Eventually the room was empty of all those who had survived. Raqeeb had spoken prayers over the dead. I paused for a moment and stared into the gloom. Raqeeb came up to me. ‘We have all the live ones loaded in the van,’ he said. ‘We’re ready to go.’

  ‘Where are the Fabian?’ I asked.

  ‘Still trussed up where we left them; what do you want done with them?’

  ‘The usual,’ I said. I turned to Atheed. ‘Standard procedure – burn the place down.’ He nodded. I looked around me. ‘Where are the Mackays?’ We all turned to look. One minute they had been helping us, standing with us, now they had gone. I heard four soft popping noises. I held my breath.

  ‘What was that?’ gasped Raqeeb.

  I cursed. ‘Four dead Fabian,’ I guessed.

  I was furious. I stood in front of the Mackay brothers. They were stony faced. ‘I don’t care which one of you did it,’ I said. ‘You’re all guilty.’

  ‘Guilty of what?’ asked Angus sullenly.

  ‘Disobeying me, you bastard,’ I replied.

  He smiled that cold smile of his. ‘No, we didn’t,’ he said. ‘We anticipated you.’

  I glared at him. ‘I would have let one of them survive,’ I said.

  He looked puzzled. ‘Why?’

  ‘To tell his friends.’ I moved in closer. ‘Fear, uncertainty, anger are all weapons – and I intend to use every one of them. Next time, you wait for orders. Is that understood?’

  He grinned. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.

  I scowled. I thought he was mocking me and, not for the first time, I wondered whether I had made a mistake.

  Raqeeb nudged me. ‘We’d better go; the doc will be waiting for us.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Who’s the doc?’ asked Angus.

  ‘You’ll soon find out,’ I said darkly.

  Chapter 36

  When Paula arrived, he was obviously in a bad mood. I knew what he could do when he felt like this, but something in me had switched off. I no longer cared. I was hanging from some sadist’s ceiling, about to be taken on my trip to the underworld, and I no longer cared.

  Paula and Amos went off in a huddle and left me. I waited; I had no choice. They returned and Paula now seemed very happy. I wondered what bargain they had struck over my body.

  ‘Well, Matrix,’ whispered Paula. ‘You’re coming home with me tonight.’

  **********************

  Four more discards died on the way to the safe house. I was desperate for Andrew. I climbed out of the van, slipping as I did so, but I didn’t fall, Angus was there to catch me. I said nothing, neither did he.

  We were met by the doctor and more helpers. Angus stared at them. They all carried the Fabian brand on their left cheeks. Andrew came over; he glanced across at Angus and his brothers. ‘You scared the shit out of Sonia!’ he said crossly. Angus shrugged. ‘That was badly done, it delayed me,’ he said to me. ‘I had to calm her down. She was hysterical. She thinks you must be dead.’

  ‘She’ll get over it,’ I said. ‘But we needed you out there. These people require medical treatment.’

  He nodded and moved into action.

  ‘Is he your doctor?’ asked Angus.

  ‘Can you think of anyone better,’ I said. ‘Now, make yourself useful. We have lives to save.’

  ***********************

  The safe house was situated in a rural area, ten miles north of Durham. It was a large, sprawling mid-twentieth-century building. It housed a community of approximately forty discards, released and brought back to life by me and my small band of helpers. They were nourished, cared for and made fit – then it was up to them. It was an active community, people worked at maintaining some level of self-sufficiency, but it was a prison – the marks on their cheeks ensured that. They could not go out; they could not return to their families. They had no choice in this; to leave this prison meant a return to their hell, and every one of them knew it.

  I am constantly amazed at the resilience of the human spirit. These people, like me, had travelled to the edge of madness; yet, here they were – with a fair degree of good humour – rebuilding their lives. They lived, worked, played and prayed in this isolated smallholding.

  We had orchards, gardens and animals. We had workshops and a school. We had a sense of release and of freedom in our self-imposed prison.

  But it was not enough. We needed more safe houses – and for that we needed more resources.

  As far as we were aware I was the only one who had ever escaped captivity. We all hoped to be proved wrong in this. But, for the record, we never were. For any discard the only escape was death. The only solution was to change the system, destroy those who sought to destroy us. These were not just released discards; these people, some of them at least, were my army.

  I heard Andrew talking with Angus, Euan and Stewart, explaining our problems, concerns, hopes and fears. Things had calmed down in the safe house now, and the three brothers had asked to be shown around. Andrew spoke with passion, and I smiled to listen to him.

  ‘Bangs on a bit, doesn’t he?’

  I looked down. It was Sweeney. I couldn’t believe his strength. There was nothing to him; he was skin and bone and his body had been abused beyond belief. Even now as he lay there he would be in agony, yet he smiled and joked.

  ‘Aye, he does,’ I said.

  He gazed up at me. ‘They say you’re a god,’ he whispered.

  Word soon
gets round. ‘I’m no god,’ I said, ‘just another bloody discard.’

  ‘They say you escaped.’

  I thought of that, the escape, the release, the plunge into death.

  **********************

  I swung on my chain while Paula debated what to do.

  ‘I suppose we could have a little fun now,’ he said. ‘It would be such a pity to disappoint you, but then we’ll be late for the party and that would be a shame.’

  ‘A quick one wouldn’t take much time,’ commented Spider, who had followed him in.

  Paula was not impressed. ‘A quick one! This is an art form! I don’t do quick ones!’ He made up his mind. ‘Get him down. I’ll take him as he is.’

  ‘You get a body bag, Spider,’ said Amos. ‘I’ll get him down.’

  Soon I was spread-eagled on the floor, and Amos had released my arms from my waistband.

  Spider was back. ‘I can’t find the bags!’ he wailed.

  Amos cursed and left.

  I had no reason to live, not any more. I was on my way to a painful protracted death, a death that would last weeks. I had no reason to live – so I chose to die.

  **********************

  ‘How did you do that? Did they not put the irons on you?’

  I pulled down the neck of my shirt to show him my scars.

  ‘So, how did you do it?’ he repeated.

  I whispered into his ear. ‘I’ll tell you a secret,’ I said. ‘I tried to fly.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Didn’t work, of course.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Now, Sweeney, what do you think happened? I fell down the bloody stairs!’

  ‘You are kidding me!’

  I grinned. ‘Yes.’

  He grinned back.

  **********************

  I was alone with this maniac. Paula had moved across to me and bent down beside me. I had nothing but misery before me, nothing but humiliation. I knew what they would do to me. Paula had talked to me about his house and the games they played. I had no choice. As Paula bent down beside me, I could see the light of the doorway. It was dim and blurred, but I knew where it was.