Sarah was hyperventilating, tears, snot, and blood all over her face. “Help him, Dad. Help him. He came out of the room like this.”
Courtney had stopped flailing and was now resting silently like an animal giving in to shock. One time, our car had hit a cat on our way home from the supermarket, and it had lain by the side of the road in the exact same way Courtney was lying now, breathing heavily but otherwise completely still. Dying.
This was too much. What I was seeing was too much. I felt like it was going to scar me forever, like I was standing too close to a flame. “Dad, what are we going to tell the hospital?”
“I don’t know, Martin. Just help me carry him. He needs our help.”
I did as I was told, but as I would later find out, Courtney was beyond help.
We all were.
11
Courtney had resumed his panic by the time we bundled him into the car, and it took both me and Sarah to calm him as we held him across our laps in the back seat. His moaning, along with the screeching tyres of our speeding Vauxhall Cavalier, were the only sounds as we raced to the hospital. Dad almost drove right through the entrance of A&E.
Then things had got complicated. Seeing Courtney’s horrific state, several nurses rushed to our aid, speeding him away in a wheelchair. Then a doctor questioned us, but instead of a white-coated gentleman with pens in his top pocket, what we got was a brawny young man in an open-collared white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. He spoke with a strange accent, but was white, so I assumed he was French or German. I was studying French at school, and I considered throwing out a few words to see what happened. Then I realised I could say little beyond ‘Hello’ and ‘My name is…’
Bonjour, je m’appelle Martin Gable.
“I am Doctor Renbert. Is the boy you brought in tonight a member of your family?”
My dad answered. “No.”
“He’s my boyfriend,” said Sarah. “His name is Courtney Hodge.”
The doctor nodded. “Okay, ja. Can you please provide my nurse with full details, along with those of his family if you know them?”
Dad nodded. “Of course. I’m sure Sarah has all that. Is he going to be okay? What happened to him?”
“I could ask you the same thing. What was your name again, sir?”
“Charlie Ademale. This is my family.”
The doctor studied us suspiciously for a moment, but then nodded. “To answer your question, from what I can tell, the boy you brought in has been tortured. His tongue has been severed and his eyes removed. I’m yet to confirm it, but I believe him to be deaf also. I’m assuming he wasn’t always so, ja?”
Sarah started hyperventilating, flapping her arms like a bird. Mum moved her away so she couldn’t hear any more of the grizzly details. Dad put a hand to his face. “No, he wasn’t deaf. I don’t understand why someone would do these things to an innocent boy.”
“His life is irreparably changed,” said Dr Renbert in that strange accent of his. I had decided he sounded more German than French, but I still wasn’t certain. “How did you discover the boy in such a state?”
Dad glanced at me and swallowed. This was what I’d been worrying about. What on earth did we say? What would happen if we spoke about the room? I started to fret.
The men in black are going to seize our house and make us disappear, I worried to myself. The Government probably knows all about things like this and covers them up. What if we speak about the room and it isn’t there when the police look? They’ll call us liars and blame Courtney’s injuries on us. They’ll lock us up in prison.
Doctor Renbert cleared his throat. “I asked you a question, Mr Ademale.”
Dad stuttered and failed to speak again, so I answered for him. “Courtney came to our door, banging his fists and moaning. It was scary, so I shouted for my mum and dad.”
Dad licked his lips and looked at me. It clearly upset him that I was lying, but I couldn’t let him tell the truth. The truth was impossible to tell. After a moment, he gradually accepted that fact. “Yes, Courtney just turned up out of the blue. We’re all in shock about it. He’s a good kid, but we don’t know him that well. Who knows how he got into this situation.”
The doctor nodded. “Ja, well, hopefully we shall find out. Okay, thank you for that information, Mr Ademale. I’m afraid we have contacted the police and they will want to speak with you too.”
I watched my dad deflate, but he didn’t lose his cool. He must have expected this. “Of course. We’re not going anywhere.”
“Good, please get those details to my nurse concerning Courtney’s family as soon as possible”
“Right away. Thank you, Doctor.”
The doctor hurried away, his black trainers squeaking on the shiny floor. I turned to Dad, who kept his eyes on the man until he disappeared around a corner. “He talks funny,” I said, “and he’s young. Is he really a doctor?”
“He’s South African.” He said it with a hint of distaste but didn’t elaborate. He put his hand on my back and moved me towards a row of plastic chairs where Sarah and Mum had already sat down. Sarah was a mess. Mum was mortified. I was silent.
Dad knelt in front of Sarah and put a hand on her knee. “They need you to give Courtney’s details at the desk, sweetheart. They want to contact his family.”
Sarah lifted her head away from Mum’s chest. “We did this. We did this to him.”
“Sweetheart, that’s not true – and I’m not sure we should be saying it. Something terrible has happened to Courtney and the police are going to get involved. We need to be very careful about what we say.”
It relieved me to hear Dad say that. He was taking charge of the situation and that was good. Sarah didn’t seem to think so though because her face devolved into a scowl. “Is that all you care about? Making sure we don’t get into trouble? Courtney’s life is over and all you can do is think about yourself.”
“Sweetheart, I’m thinking about us all.”
Sarah batted his hand off of her knee. “I’m not your sweetheart. You’re not my fucking dad.”
Dad reared back like a startled horse. Once he recovered, he placed both hands on his hips and glared. “Sarah, do not use language like that, do you hear me?”
“Fuck you!”
“Sarah! You will not—”
Mum put a hand up. “Just leave her, Charlie. Now isn’t the time.”
“What? Sharon, we need to have our heads screwed on or this is going to get worse. Do you understand how serious this is?”
“Of course I do! Charlie, our entire life has turned to shit in a matter of days. I feel like we’ve been cursed; that we’re in a hole we can’t get out of and it keeps getting deeper. But snapping at Sarah won’t make anything better, will it? Give her a minute and I’ll take her to the desk to give Courtney’s details. God help his poor parents.”
I hadn’t even thought about that. Courtney had a family and this would destroy them. If I’d lost my sight and hearing, as well as my ability to talk, Mum would lose the plot. She’d been a nightmare when I’d caught chicken pox.
Dad finally got the message and wandered off towards a row of vending machines. I didn’t know whether to follow him. Was I supposed to leave Sarah alone too? I didn’t want to be in the way.
Mum made eye contact with me. “Sit down, honey. Save your energy.”
“Is Sarah okay?”
Mum nodded, but Sarah glared at me. “Of course I’m not okay, you idiot. How could you even ask that?”
“Sorry.”
Mum shushed us and we fell silent. Dad got himself a coffee from the vending machine across the hall and it annoyed me when he didn’t offer to get anything for the rest of us. Instead, he moved away to read the colourful health notices pinned to a large cork board. Sarah argued with Dad often, but I had never witnessed her speak to him like she had today. To make things worse, Mum didn’t even seem to be on his side about it.
I wanted to make sure he was okay, so I got up and walked a
cross the waiting room. When Dad sensed my presence, he glanced over his shoulder, but then he went back to examining the noticeboard. He wasn’t in a mood to talk, so I didn’t say anything. I stood next to him, examining the various notices.
BEAT GERMS. WASH YOUR HANDS.
OVER 60? GET YOUR FREE FLU JAB.
DENNIS THE MENACE DOESN’T DO DRUGS.
Realising I wasn’t going to go away, Dad cleared his throat and spoke to me. “So, how are you feeling about Keith turning up? Must be a lot going through your head.”
I stared at him hard. “It’s all because of the room. It made everything horrible.”
“Martin, you heard what I said to your sister. We need to be careful about what we say.”
I nodded, but my mouth was defiant. “You saw the room. You saw it when Courtney came out.”
“I don’t know what I saw. I was focused on Courtney.”
“Dad…”
“Martin, please? Let’s not speak about it, okay? We should wait and see what happens. There’s a lot going on, but I’m just trying to protect us all. That’s my job.” A bulge bobbed up and down his throat. Something had upset him. He muttered, “I’m your father.”
I wasn’t good at showing my feelings – I always felt so embarrassed – and if Sarah was anywhere near, she would make fun of me. “I’m sorry how Sarah spoke to you. I don’t care what she thinks, you’re our dad.”
He managed a smile, but it wasn’t real. He had these great big eyes where you could see all the little red veins. The veins seemed to grow when he was upset. “Keith’s your real dad, Martin, and he wants to get to know you. Sarah, too, most likely. Things are going to be okay, but your mum… She went through a lot with Keith and it took her a long time to get over it. We need to be there for her, even if you start seeing Keith.”
“I’m not sure I even want to. You’ve been my dad since I was six. Where was he?”
“Honestly, I have no idea, but I won’t stand in your way if you want to see him. It’s your right, Martin. Your mum and I agree on that much. You should get to know him if that’s what you want.”
“I don’t want to upset you.”
He put a hand on my back and pulled me against his side. “Don’t you worry about that, buddy. I’ll be okay as long as you’re happy, okay?”
“Dad, is Courtney going to be okay? I can’t… I keep trying to imagine not being able to see or hear or speak. Will the doctors be able to help him, because if not…? It makes me want to cry. It makes me want to cry because it’s so horrible. Courtney was kind to me.”
Dad’s throat bulged, and he cleared his throat to shift a phlegmy blockage. Then he turned and leant against the noticeboard. His eyes were brimming with tears, mixing with the red veins and making his whites appear pink. “If anything like that ever happened to you, Martin, I don’t know what I’d do. What happened to Courtney is heartbreaking and terrifying and every parent’s worst nightmare, but that doesn’t mean any bad will happen to you though. You’re a good boy, Martin. You’re sensitive and kind, and that only makes what’s going on harder. I don’t understand what’s going on, but I promise to keep you safe. As long as we stick together, we’ll make it through whatever this is.”
I nodded, then glanced back across the waiting room to where Mum was still sitting cradling Sarah. “Then why are we standing over here on our own, Dad?”
He gave a chuckle. “Good point. Come on, let’s grab some snacks and go back.”
12
As a family, we sat and ate our snacks in silence. Sarah had stopped crying, and although she didn’t apologise for the way she had spoken to Dad, she was kinder. She even shared her prawn cocktail crisps. I had smoky bacon, Mum salt and vinegar.
The police arrived thirty minutes later. Dad tensed up at the sight of them. I’d never been particularly afraid of getting in trouble before, but I felt vulnerable now as I watched the two officers stomp around the hospital, talking to various members of the staff and making notes. For the first time in my life, I felt the police were out to get me. Their job was to punish people, and when they saw the state of Courtney, they would want to hold someone responsible. As little as it made sense, that was us.
We were responsible.
It happened in our house.
My heart drummed in my chest as I imagined life inside a cell surrounded by scary, violent people who would make my life miserable. I imagined never seeing my parents again. You’re getting carried away, Martin, I told myself. Get up and take a walk.
“I’m just going to stretch my legs,” I said, standing up and arching my back.
“Huh?” Dad was still eyeballing the officers, who were now standing at the reception desk talking to a nurse. When they glanced our way, he lowered his gaze and started fiddling with his fingers. “Oh, um, okay. Don’t speak to anyone though, okay, Martin?”
Mum gave me a reassuring smile. “And don’t go far, honey, okay?”
“Okay.”
I don’t know what possessed me, and perhaps it was fate, but instead of giving the police a wide berth, I strode directly towards them. Despite seeing them as a threat, I was also angry that they were making my dad so uncomfortable. They’d been in the hospital for a while but were yet to speak with us. It felt like they were letting us worry on purpose. I wasn’t quite brazen enough to stand right next to them, but I knelt close by, pretending to tie my shoelaces. Once I realised they weren’t paying me attention, I became rather pleased with myself. I was Martin Gable, secret agent.
“Is there no way at all of communicating with the patient?” I heard one officer say. He was a hair taller than his colleague and sported a goatee beard like Stone Cold. He was thin rather than muscly however.
“I’m afraid it’s too soon for us to think about that,” replied a nurse. “Right now, the patient’s care is our only concern. I understand you need answers but—”
“We need to catch whatever monster did this. I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire career.”
“Nor have any of us here,” said the nurse a little testily. She clearly didn’t like being spoken over. “As soon as we can assist you, we shall.”
The officer clapped a hand on the reception desk and the sudden noise made me flinch. “See that you do so, ma’am. In the meantime, we’ll question the family who brought him in. That’s them over there, correct?”
Fearful of my cover being blown, I stood and turned my back on the officers, hurrying to reach a place out of sight. In the corner of my eye, I saw the nurse point at my family. It was finally happening. We were about to be questioned.
My body started to tremble and I needed a wee. Fear flooded my system as I hurried to the corner of the waiting room and took a spot where I could hide and watch the officers approach my family. Dad stood and offered a handshake. The goateed officer obliged.
That was a good sign, right?
I wanted to join Mum, Dad, and Sarah, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. It was horrible; so horrible that I wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Why was this happening to us?
“You brought that boy in, didn’t you?” said a voice. “The boy with no eyes.”
I flinched, bumping the back of my head against the wall. I turned to my left and saw a large man sitting on a nearby chair against the adjoining wall. He was old but not frail. In fact, he looked tough and strong. Deep-set wrinkles streaked his face and a pudgy scar interrupted the jet-black stubble on his chin. All this I saw beneath the brim of a dark blue baseball cap that didn’t suit his age nor appearance. “W-Who are you?”
The man was holding a deck of cards that he was shuffling back and forth in his hands. “My name is Thomas Quick. I’ve just arrived, but I’ve been watching your family.”
I shuffled along the wall, feeling threatened and wanting to get away. “W-Why?”
“Because someone logged a new admission in the system that piqued my interest. A badly mutilated boy, blinded and made mute. I paid an orderly to point out the peop
le who brought him in, and that turned out to be you.”
“I’m going to get my dad.”
“Hold your horses, I’m not here to hurt you, boy. I want to help.” He stared at me with ghostly blue eyes that were so light that they seemed washed out. He whipped the pack of cards from one hand to the next without even looking. “And trust me, you need help.”
I stopped shuffling along the wall. Could this man actually be able to help? If so, I needed to listen. “Tell me what you mean or I’m going to get someone.”
The man removed his baseball cap and revealed a head full of straggly grey hair. A patch was missing above his left ear like he’d been burned. “I work for a very old organisation called the Sphere of Zosimus. Its history goes back all the way to the Roman Empire.”
I knew lots about the Roman Empire. I had a textbook with a wicked picture of a hundred armoured soldiers lining up with their shields in a row, with even more above their heads. It looked like a giant tortoise shell, and they did it to keep arrows or rocks from hitting them. I tried to think of the proper word to describe it and was impressed when it came to me.
Testudo.
“I know about Romans,” I said, “but I’ve never heard about the Sphere… Sphere of…”
“Zosimus,” said the stubbled stranger. “He was a pagan historian, but that’s not important. Our organisation is large and powerful, yet most people have no idea we exist. That’s by design.”
I nodded as if I understood, but I didn’t at all. “What does your company do?”
“Not company – organisation. There are no profits involved. But to answer your question, we protect people.”
I glanced at the two police officers now deep in conversation with my family. “You mean like them?”
“I suppose so, except we help in situations where the police can’t. Your family is in trouble, isn’t it, Martin?”
The Room Upstairs: A Novel Page 7
