The Room Upstairs: A Novel

by Wright, Iain Rob

  “My mum needs help.”

  Quick nodded.

  “Is Djall gone?”

  Quick held up a small see-through plastic case. The wooden jackal rattled about inside. “Not gone, but contained. Unfortunately, the Sphere knows no way to destroy Djall for good, but he’ll be under lock and key until the end of time if I have anything to say about it. I’m sorry this happened to you, Martin. Truly. The man who betrayed our order… He was my best friend. It was my trust he took advantage of in order to steal from the vaults. I failed at my duty, and your family has paid for it. I wish I could say the guilt will keep me awake at night, but honestly, it’ll just get lost amongst the lifetime’s worth I already have.”

  “I forgive you,” I said.

  Quick’s eyes widened. “You forgive me? Just like that?”

  I nodded. “It’s not your fault evil things exist, but I feel better knowing there are people like you trying to fight it. I think you have it wrong though. I think the Sphere is wrong.”

  “How so?”

  “You keep the monsters hidden, trying to fight them in secret. How can that be right?”

  “It keeps society from spiralling into chaos.”

  “No… If everyone knew about things like Djall, then we could all fight together. We could all make life harder for the monsters. Now that I know, I won’t be scared next time. I’ll just fight.”

  “Next time? Martin, I sincerely hope there will never be a next time for you. I understand the wisdom of what you’re saying, and perhaps the Sphere does have it wrong, but that’s something far, far above my station.” He squeezed my ankle again. “I have some more calls to make. You going to be okay for a little while?”

  I nodded.

  “Good.” Quick got up and turned towards the door. He was about to leave but then turned back and tutted. “I almost forgot. I found this on the ground. Make sure your dad makes use of it.”

  I took the scratch card he handed to me and frowned. “Huh? This was because of Djall. Get it away from me!”

  “No, boy, it’s a hundred grand. Cash it in. Give your poor family some breathing room.”

  “It’s cursed. If we cash it in then bad things will happen.”

  Quick shook his head. “Djall grants wishes, and if you wished for a hundred grand then that scratch card is as real as you and I. Use it.”

  “But there’ll be a debt to pay.”

  “All debts are void. When I broke Djall’s hold on you, he lost all power over your family. You’re safe. Get your money and don’t look back. It’s the least you deserve.”

  Quick left the room, leaving me holding the scratch card. I thought about what a hundred grand could do for my family, but none of it seemed to matter without Sarah.

  I would never see my sister again.

  We couldn’t even bury her.

  All at once, my body turned inside out and I began to sob uncontrollably, weeping so deeply that I could barely breathe. A few minutes later, I heard my mum and dad do exactly the same.

  It went on for weeks.

  And then months.

  25

  “And so you see,” I said as I looked down at my notes sitting atop of the dais, “the evil that entered my home that pleasant Sunday afternoon after the car boot was not a temporary blight on my family. Its corruption was permanent. My sister had her life cut short before her sixteenth birthday, and my mother never recovered. We tried to help her with drugs and therapy – and expensive holidays with the scratch card money – but eventually she had to be committed. She died four years ago, barely knowing who I was. My dad died nine years ago, a man who no longer smiled. He raised me to adulthood but then seemed to give up on life. Djall took a piece of us all that would never heal. It was only me who managed to use what happened in a positive way. For, you see, I meant what I said that day to Caretaker Quick. If mankind knew about the monsters under its bed, people would stop being prey and start being hunters. There is no strength in hiding the threats to our world. In a war, the side with the most soldiers wins, and for far too long we have been outnumbered. That is why you are all here.”

  I looked out at the assembly hall, taking in the faces of all three hundred new recruits – young men and women with bright minds and brave spirits. Some had encountered evil in the same way I had, but others had been headhunted and then initiated. We were letting the cat halfway out of the bag by swelling our ranks, but soon we would have abominations like Djall on the run. Soon, there would be no more devastated families like mine. The world would be a safer place for all.

  When Quick had said he would be there for me, that he would provide whatever I needed, the only thing I could think of was an escape. A new life.

  As soon as I finished school, I had contacted him. Then I had demanded a job. If I hadn’t joined the Sphere then I would have grown into an angry, broken man. I needed a purpose, some way to use the pain inside me for good. Being able to fight back against things like Djall was that purpose.

  I rose to the station of caretaker younger than anyone had in over a hundred years, and within a decade I was the youngest cohort leader in the country. Now I was legate in charge of recruitment, a post created especially for me after I had pushed for so long to add more members to our organisation. The Sphere was where I belonged, and I peered towards the back of the room to offer a nod of gratitude to the man who had been there at my side for almost twenty years. Thomas Quick didn’t look any older than the day I met him in the hospital, but he had added more scars to his collection. He had taken to wearing gloves to hide his battered hands, and he had exchanged his leather jacket for a high-collared woollen one. It was 2019.

  “All of you are about to embark on a lifelong career,” I said to my new recruits. “There is no going back from here, no unlearning the things you will learn, no unseeing the things you will see, but take heart that your life will be dedicated to the forces of good. For every person you fail, you will save the lives of three more. We are winning this war, and you are going to help tip the scales even further. Each one of you is a warrior, a hero, a soldier. Each of you is a stranger in the night, saving the weak and helping the helpless. Soon, you will be caretakers of the world’s worst evils. It should be a lonely job, a frightening job, but it is anything but. We are family. Your brothers and sisters will face the darkness with you, and you will never be alone again. I welcome you all to the Sphere of Zosimus.”

  The audience erupted in applause. They always did. This was my third batch of new recruits – my first included an ageing yet determined police officer named Dorrens – and other countries were starting to adopt our methods too. It warmed my heart to feel my family growing.

  I stepped down from the dais, excited about the days to come, for I was Martin Gable, caretaker of evil.

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  Plea From the Author

  Hey, Reader. So you got to the end of my book. I hope that means you enjoyed it. Whether or not you did, I would just like to thank you for giving me your valuable time to try and entertain you. I am truly blessed to have such a fulfilling job, but I only have that job because of people like you; people kind enough to give my books a chance and spend their hard-earned money buying them. For that I am eternally grateful.

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  Untitled ‘AI’ project

  Abandoned

  Bright lights. Aching eyes. A smell that was both unnatural and unpleasant. Bleach. Disinfectant.

  For a moment, Lewis had no comprehension of his own self. He was a pinprick inside a thick, voluminous cloud, floating through an infinite void. It was a place without pain or worry; somewhere between existence and nothingness. But at the edge of that nothingness was a beckoning beast. A snarling memory not quite formed. It called to Lewis and demanded his return.

  Lewis’s eyes were already open, but were unseeing at first. It took several moments for his brain to acknowledge his senses. He saw featureless ceiling tiles, one of which had a dark yellowy-brown stain as if someone had stood beneath it chain-smoking, but there was no stale stench. There was only that clinical smell of bleach.

  Where am I?

  Is this… a hospital?

  Lewis blinked. His vision increased in clarity, making him realise there had been tears in his eyes. His eyelids were fuzzy like he had just exited a particularly long sleep and his head was full of fog. He peered at his surroundings and discovered himself lying in a narrow bed with rails on either side. A plastic bracelet encircled his wrist. His name was scrawled on it in thin marker. The room was empty save for a small bedside table and single, uncomfortable-looking armchair. He turned his head and saw a bank of machines. A pair of wires ran beneath his bedsheet, possible inserting into him somewhere.

  Why am I here? Am I hurt?

  Yes, it hurts.

  The pain was dull and faraway, not quite connected to his body. It seemed to come from his chest and shoulders, and his heart thudded rhythmically against his ribs. When he tried to move, he was stiff and heavy.

  The silence was stirred by a soft whirring.

  Then that silence was obliterated by a door bursting open and hitting the wall.

  A woman’s plump rear presented itself, clothed inside loose blue trousers. As the stranger backed into the room, she dragged an aluminium trolley with her. Then she turned to face the room and jolted in fright. She was a middle-aged woman with dark hair and eyes that were too close together. She smiled at Lewis and clutched her chest. “Oh, you’re awake! I would have knocked if I’d known. How are you feeling? I’ll go and get the doctor right away.”

  Lewis eyed the aluminium trolley. Various objects sat on it, but nothing too ominous. A blood-pressure cuff. A stethoscope. No scalpels or invasive instruments.

  I’m being monitored.

  What happened to me?

  “W-Why am I here?”

  The nurse’s smile faltered. “You were in a car accident, Mr Sheringham. You broke two ribs and dislocated your shoulder. The doctor will explain everything, but can I get you anything in the meantime? Are you thirsty?”

  Lewis nodded. His throat felt like pewter, metallic and unyielding. Water was suddenly the thing he craved more than anything else in the world. “Please.”

  The nurse disappeared and left Lewis alone with his thoughts, which were a jumbled mess. So he’d been in a car accident, but he could remember nothing about it. In fact, it only just dawned on him that the nurse had been American. The plug socket on the wall beside the armchair had only two holes. He was far from his home in Birmingham, England, and for some reason he knew that was okay. He knew he had travelled here for some reason.

  I just don’t remember why.

  Does Sarah know I’ve been hurt? What if she’s worried? That will be bad for the baby.

  I need to get out of here. I need to call home.

  The nurse returned with a gentleman in blue scrubs. He sported a thick white moustache that no man in the UK would ever dare to grow. When he spoke, he had a southern drawl that confirmed Lewis that was indeed in America. “Mr Sheringham, I am Dr Owens. You’re at Clarins-Moritz General Hospital. You were involved in an automotive accident two weeks ago and we placed you in a coma due to brain swelling caused by head injury. I believe you may have struck the windscreen. Despite the trauma, you are healing well. In fact, you’ve come out of your coma earlier than expected. You’ve been waking steadily for the last few days, but I didn’t expect to see you conscious for another day or two. Would you mind if I performed a few tests?”

  Lewis did mind. He wanted to ask questions not be prodded, but his thoughts were too jumbled. All he could do was nod. Dr Owens placed a finger in front of his face and asked him to follow it. Next, he listened to his chest with the stethoscope. He finished by checking and timing pulse rate and blood pressure. The whole time, the nurse stood at the corner of the room as if she was afraid of something.

  “You are remarkably well, Mr Sheringham. I think you shall make a full recovery. There are, however, some possible side effects of having been in a coma. Your speech and motor skills might be affected…” he paused, as if something was troubling him, “and you may, um, experience some vivid dreaming or visual-auditory anomalies.

  Lewis grimaced. “What does that mean?”

  The doctor smiled as if to sugarcoat his words. “Mild hallucinations are possible. Just be aware and you should make a full recovery. We’ll have to run some more thorough tests, of course, but I am very hopeful.”

  “I need to call my wife. Do you have my mobile phone?” The doctor frowned, and Lewis considered it might have been a language issue. “My cell phone. I need to call home. My wife is pregnant and she’ll be worried. Has anyone contacted her during the last two weeks? I… I can’t remember where she is. I think she might have travelled with me.”

  Doctor Owens nodded. “You had a UK driver’s license in your wallet. Did you come here on holiday or for… other reasons?”

  Lewis closed his eyes as a spike of pain shot through his head. Once it passed, he opened them again and wondered why the doctor seemed so nervous. “I’m not sure why I came here. My home is in England. I need to speak with my wife. She’ll help me make sense of things. Her name is Sarah Sheringham.”

  “I’m aware of your wife’s name, Mr Sheringham. I’m afraid she was in the passenger seat when you crashed. It was a very severe accident. From what the police have shared with me, you veered into oncoming traffic on the freeway. They assume your instincts of driving on the other side of the road in the UK caused you to enter the wrong lane out of habit.”

  “I…” Lewis shook his head and another jolt of pain went through his skull, bouncing around like a pinball. “I don’t remember any crash. Sarah, is she okay?”

  Dr Owens averted his gaze and looked at the floor. Then he lifted his chin and looked Lewis in the eye as if he had to force himself to do so. “I’m afraid not. Her injuries were catastrophic. She died on our operating tables as he tried to stem her internal bleeding. I’m so very sorry, Mr Sheringham. We did every we could.”

  Lewis’s vision tilted back and forth like he was on a sinking ship — but he was lay perfectly still in a foreign hospital bed. This had to be some kind of nightmare. Sarah…

  She can’t be…

  “I need to see her. I don’t believe what you’re saying.”

  “Mr Sheringham, please—”

  “I don’t believe you!”

  “Mr Sheringham.”

  “She was seven months pregnant. I need to talk to her. I need to see her and —”

  The doctor cut him off. “We managed to save the baby. A boy.”

  Lewis’s dizziness only grew worse. He and Sarah had left the sex of their baby a mystery, but hearing it now was was like a slap in the face. It suddenly seemed more real than ever, more so than any of those blessed nights with him laying with his head against Sarah’s swollen tummy feeling the foetus kick against his ear.

  I have a boy. A son.

  He needs a name.

  I need to see him.

  “Wait, this doesn’t make any sense. Sarah isn’t dead. She delivered her baby and they’re together somewhere in this hospital. You’ve made a mistak
e.”

  Doctor Owens sighed. “I’m afraid not. You’re wife had already passed when we delivered her child. We were forced to conduct an emergency Caesarean section to get it out. He was only four-pounds, but strong and healthy. He wasn’t far from breathing unassisted, but we placed him in our newborn intensive-care unit where he remained stable.”

  Lewis felt a grin spread unprompted to his face. His child had come two months early, but that was nothing these days with modern medicine. His son had arrived safe into the world.

  I have a son. I can’t believe it.

  But where is his mother? Where is my wife?

  “I need to see Sarah right now.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not an option. Her parents have taken her body home to the UK.”

  Lewis realised his throat was still stiff and dry. It had turned from pewter to thick iron. “Water. I need water.”

  The nurse at the back of the room jolted. “Oh my, Mr Sheringham. I’m so sorry. I have it right here.” She hurried over and placed a plastic cup under his lips, tipping it a small amount of time into his mouth. It was divine — life-restoring. Some of the fog in his brain cleared. “Please, I don’t understand any of what you’re saying. I don’t remember any crash. I don’t even know why I’m here. I just…”

  The doctor folded his arms awkwardly, but his eyes seemed to brim a little with moisture. He appeared genuinely upset by this, which only made Lewis want to slap him. “I’m so sorry, Mr Sheringham.”

  “If I can’t see Sarah, then can I see my son? He doesn’t even have a name yet.”