Harkman, irritated by the man’s manner - which lay somewhere between psychic disorder and plain rudeness - felt the temptation to give a sharp answer, but he saw Julia flash a warning look at him, and he remembered her request not to make a scene.
He said: ‘I’ve been working at the Regional Commission, Mason. I was sent there from the Bureau of English - ’
‘I don’t trust the Commission, Harkman. Nor anyone in it. What do you want here?’
‘Paul, he was approved by the others.’
‘The others have gone. You and I are the only two left. I want to know what this Commission man wants here.’
‘We want him, Paul! ‘
‘So you say. I select the participants for the project, not you.’
Julia looked at Harkman again, this time with an expression of puzzled despair, then went forward to Mason. He turned away from her at once and walked down the line of metal cabinets, running a hand obsessively along the metal surfaces.
With all that had happened during the day, Harkman had had no preconception of what he might find at the Castle ... but this, with Mason apparently distracted beyond sense, was something he had no way of knowing how to deal with.
‘Julia, is he sick?’ he said quietly.
‘I’ve never seen him like this before,’ she said. ‘When I left he was angry ... but I hadn’t expected this. And where is everyone else?’
Harkman said: ‘What shall we do?’
Julia was silent, staring down the long room at Paul’s strangely neurotic figure. He was standing once again under the cluster of lights, his hands pressed against the nearest cabinet.
Looking at him, Harkman could see why Julia had once been attracted to him. He was probably about the same age as she was, and was possessed of undoubted good looks, in a dark-haired, clean-cut way, but there was an ugliness to his mouth and a narrowness to his eyes that made Harkman dislike him. The fact that his dislike was evidently reciprocated came as no surprise: this, after all, was the other man in Julia’s life, and such confrontations were supposed to be charged with suppressed feelings.
‘Do you know how this machinery works?’ Harkman said to Julia.
‘Yes ... Paul was explaining yesterday.’
‘He seems incapable of explaining anything at the moment. What happens?’
‘Each participant has a drawer to himself. Mine is that one.’
She pointed towards the drawer about eighth or ninth from the nearer end, and Harkman realized that this was one of the three that were still not fully closed.
‘How do you know that one is yours?’ Harkman said. ‘They all look the same.’
‘Because ... I’m not sure.’ Julia looked at the other two, shook her head. ‘I know it’s mine, because it feels like mine. I can’t say why.’
‘But why is one different from another?’
‘It’s to do with neural and cerebral patterns. Dr Eliot - ’
She broke off suddenly, and looked at Harkman in alarm. ‘What is it?’ he said.
‘Dr Eliot should be here! And Marilyn. And the rest of the staff. Paul was emphatic about this ... the project mustn’t be started without medical supervision.’
‘Then where are they?’
Julia called up from the room: ‘Paul, where’s Dr Eliot?’
Paul said something inaudible, but did not turn to face them. Harkman said: ‘Go on, Julia. What happens to the participants?’
‘We have to lie down in the drawer, and when it’s closed lights will come on inside. That will trigger some kind of cerebral response which will link our minds to the projector. There are electrodes inside.’
They went to the drawer Julia had said was her own, and pulled it open. At the sound of the metal runners, Paul turned round to face them.
‘What are you doing?’ he called. ‘My experiment is in progress. I don’t want it interfered with.’
Harkman said: ‘Take no notice of him, Julia. Go on.’
She pointed out the padded rests for head and shoulders, and between them an array of short, pointed electrodes.
‘We have to lie so those press against the skin,’ she said. ‘I’ve already tried it. They prick the skin, but otherwise don’t hurt.’
Harkman glanced at the pile of clothes in the centre of the floor. ‘And we undress for this?’
‘Of course.’
Harkman stared at the drawer with uncertain feelings; the bright lights and Mason’s mad words; Julia’s earnestness. But he was being infected by it; he was at the centre of his obsession. There was a drawer in this cabinet for him, and he knew which one it was. Like Julia, he didn’t know how he recognized it ... but he knew which of the two remaining drawers was his.
Paul Mason was still standing under the battery of lights, watching them.
‘I’ve killed the others!’ he shouted. ‘I’ll kill you too. Keep away, Julia ... you know what will happen to you! ‘
‘Does he mean that?’ Harkman said.
Julia, who was clearly disorientated by Paul’s irrational behaviour, said: ‘I don’t know. Help me with this.’
She laid her hands on the drawer next to hers, and together they pulled it open. Lying inside was the unconscious body of a naked young man, and so still was he that for a moment Harkman thought he was indeed dead. Julia bent over his face and put her cheek beneath the young man’s nostrils. She placed her hand on his heart.
‘He’s still breathing,’ she said.
‘Then what did Mason mean about killing everyone?’
‘David, I don’t know. We have to ignore him. I don’t understand what’s gone wrong with him ... he was perfectly all right this afternoon.’
But Mason wasn’t to be ignored, for he started coming slowly towards them, pressing his back against the bank of drawers. He was mouthing words, but incoherently.
‘Why is he unconscious?’ Harkman said, looking at the young man on the drawer.
‘Because he’s projecting, I think. I’m not even certain of that.’
Harkman realized with sudden surprise that he recognized the young man. He was the peddler with the mirrors, the one he had sometimes seen about the streets of Dorchester.
‘Who is this?’ he said.
‘His name is Steve. I don’t know much about him.’
They pushed the drawer closed again.
‘What shall we do, Julia? Are we going to go through with it?’
She looked back at Paul, who was still working his way towards them, muttering to himself.
‘I’m frightened, David. Nothing makes sense any more ... we’ve only that old newspaper cutting to believe.’
‘Do you believe it?’
‘I have to. And so do you. Everything else is insane.’
‘Julia, I’ll kill you if you get into the machine.’ Mason was beside them now, staring at them with wild eyes. ‘I planned all this ... it has to be you and me alone together. That’s what we agreed! ‘
Harkman said: ‘Get undressed, Julia. I’ll keep Mason away from you.’
He stepped to the side, standing between her and Mason. Instantly, Mason leaped at him. He threw an arm around Harkman’s neck from behind, and tugged his head back. With his other hand he clawed at his eyes. Julia screamed.
Harkman, taken by surprise, felt himself dragged back. The hand closed over his face, groping fiercely across his nose and eyes; a finger went into his nostril and started pulling. In an instinctive fear, Harkman snatched his head to one side and slammed an elbow backwards into Mason’s stomach. At once the grip around his neck loosened. Harkman turned, and with an awkward untrained blow, hit Mason sideways across the temple. The other man staggered back, and fell weakly against the bank of drawers.
‘David, are you all right?’
‘I’m OK,’ he said, but his heart was racing and he was out of breath. ‘Please, Julia ... get into the machine. It’s all we can do now.’
‘I can’t go by myself. I’m terrified of what will happen.’
�
��I’ll be with you. I promise. I’ll follow you.’
Behind them, Mason suddenly let out a howl of rage, and tried to get to his feet again. Harkman turned to face him, clenching his fists. He was no fighter, and Mason’s insane behaviour was scaring him. As Mason levered himself up, Harkman kicked out at the man’s legs, making him fall again.
‘Do it, Julia! I’ll keep Mason off you.’
She hesitated a moment longer, then undid the buttons of the raincoat. Her arm got caught in the sleeve as she pulled it off, and Harkman helped her. She was watching Paul, and her fingers fumbled with her dress.
‘Julia!’ Mason cried. ‘Don’t go!’
‘Paul it’s what we planned.’
‘You’ll die, Julia! You’ll be killed!’ ‘Don’t talk to him/ Harkman said. ‘It makes him worse. Stay calm, and let me handle him.’
They managed to get the dress off her at last. She swept back her hair, which was still damp and tangled from the rain, and reached up to kiss Harkman briefly.
‘Come straight away,’ she said. ‘Do you know which is your drawer?’
‘That one, I think.’ He was pointing towards the one he had recognized as his. It was just beyond where Paul Mason still huddled on the floor.
Julia said: ‘David, this is right! We both feel it.’
What do I do, though?’
‘You can pull yourself in,’ she said. ‘There’s a handle inside. And a large mirror above you ... look into it.’
Mason was trying to get up, but he seemed dazed and his movements were uncoordinated. Harkman glanced down at him, wondering whether to knock him over again.
‘Get into the drawer, Julia. I’ll help you.’
He made sure the drawer was pulled right out, then Julia sat on the metal surface and lay back. She shifted her head and shoulders a few times, apparently trying to settle herself comfortably, and pushed her hair out of the way so that it did not interfere with any of the electrodes.
‘I’m ready, David.’
He bent over her and kissed her lightly on the lips.
‘I love you, Julia. Are you frightened?’
She smiled up at him. ‘Not now. This is what we have to do.’
‘I’m not frightened either. Are you ready?’
On the floor a short distance away, Paul Mason groaned.
‘Yes, I’m ready.’
David pressed against the drawer, and felt it slide smoothly into the body of the machine. He looked down at her, hoping to catch her expression, but she had turned her eyes away from him, was looking to the side.
The drawer closed. In the last instant Harkman saw a bright light turn on inside the cabinet, and as the drawer settled into place he saw the brilliance outlined squarely.
Mason was on his feet, and he had moved away from the cabinets.
‘Where’s Julia, Harkman?’
He tried to ignore the man, stepping round him, but Mason side-stepped to block his way.
‘You’re not interfering any more, Harkman. Who the hell are you, anyway? Where’s Julia? What have you done with her?’
‘Get out of the way, Mason.’
‘You’re not getting into the machine. I’ll kill you.’
‘You can’t stop me.’
They stood facing each other, and Harkman’s heart started to race again. Mason was crouching, as if ready to leap on him. Then Mason looked away, and stared towards Julia’s drawer. The brilliant internal light was fading, and as both men watched it dimmed and went out.
Mason turned towards the cabinets, and Harkman took a step forward.
twenty-six
There was a bell ringing in darkness, then a jerking, sliding motion, and light shone in her eyes. People were moving about, and it was hot.
‘It’s Miss Stretton!‘ somebody said, and another voice shouted above the clatter of metal and hubbub of voices: ‘Nurse! Bring a sedative! ‘
Julia opened her eyes, and her first impression was the customary one: that the drawer of the Ridpath projector had opened the instant it was closed, and that she was still in Wessex ... but there were too many people about, and there was no Paul, no David.
A man in a white coat was standing over her, his head turned away and his arm reaching out impatiently towards someone hurrying across to him. He held Julia’s wrist in his other hand, his fingers on her pulse. The nurse put a hypodermic needle into the doctor’s outstretched hand, and bent over to swab the inside of her elbow.
Julia wriggled, trying to move herself away. Pain shot down her back.
‘No!‘ she said, and her voice felt as if it was breaking through lips swollen with sores; her nasal passage was dry, her throat was hurting. ‘No ... please, no sedative.’
‘Hold her still, nurse.’
‘No!’ Julia said again, and with all the strength she could find she managed to wrench her arm away, and fold it defensively across her stomach. ‘I’m all right ... please don’t sedate me.’
The doctor, whom Julia recognized as Trowbridge, took hold of her wrist again as if he were about to pull her arm forcibly away, but then he looked closely into her eyes.
‘Do you know your name?’ he said.
‘Of course ... it’s Julia Stretton.’
‘Do you remember where you’ve been?’
‘Inside the Wessex projection.’
‘All right, he still.’ He released her wrist, and passed the hypodermic back to the nurse. ‘Find Dr Eliot,’ he said to the nurse, ‘and tell him Miss Stretton has apparent recall.’
The nurse hurried away.
‘Can you move your head, Julia? Try it very slowly.’
She made to raise her head from its support, but as soon as she did a sharp pain snatched at her neck.
‘The electrodes are still in contact,’ Dr Trowbridge said, ‘I’ll ease you away.’
He leaned over her and took both her shoulders in his hands. Moving her a fraction of an inch at a time he raised one of her shoulder-blades, and so lifted her away from the electrodes on that side. By the time he had done this Dr Eliot had arrived, and together the two men lifted her painfully away from the needles. Soon, she was sitting up in the drawer, her head down between her knees, while one of the doctors dabbed the inflamed area of her neck and spine with a soothing ointment Somebody put a blanket over her, and she hugged it around her.
As awareness grew in her, and she realized what had been happening, Julia felt a conflict of intense emotions: anger and confusion, mixed with the pain. Her fury was directed at Paul; how he had interfered with the projection, how he had distorted the world of Wessex, how he had so effectively intruded and destroyed. Confusion, because the projection hall was crowded with people, most of them medical staff. Peering up between her knees she saw somebody being wheeled way on a trolley, with two orderlies holding oxygen equipment alongside. Another person was being carried away on a stretcher, and while Julia’s neck was still being treated she heard Dr Eliot’s name called, and he walked quickly away.
But above all this, through her suppressed rage, Julia held a memory of David. In spite of everything, Paul and his insane distortions, and all the changes in Wessex he had wrought, David was the same.
‘David? Is David out?’ she said.
‘David Harkman? He’s not here at the moment.’ Dr Trowbridge pushed her head down between her knees again. ‘Keep still.’
‘I’ve got to talk to someone,’ she said. ‘Please…’
‘You can speak to Dr Eliot. In a moment.’
‘But at least tell me what’s happening here.’
‘There’s a full-scale emergency. Something must have happened to the projection, because everyone’s returning at once.’
Dr Trowbridge’s name was called, and he left Julia with the lint lying loosely on her neck.
Under his strict injunction not to move, Julia was unable to watch what was happening, but she listened to him speaking to two of the nurses a short distance away. She heard her name mentioned several times, and ‘no appar
ent traumata’, and ‘we haven’t tested her motor functions, but they seem normal’, and ‘as soon as Dr Eliot is free he’ll have to speak to her.’
A nurse finished cleaning and dressing her neck, and while this was going on Julia tried again to look to either side of her. She was still sitting up on the surface of the drawer, and her view was obstructed by the many people moving around her, but it seemed to her that most of the drawers were open. She was trying to discover whether David’s had been opened yet, but it was too difficult to see.
The nurse fixed the lint in place with some sticking-plaster across her shoulder-blades. ‘That’s finished, Miss Stretton. Remove the dressing tomorrow.’
‘May I get down now?’
The nurse looked across to where Dr Trowbridge was leaning over somebody lying on a trolley. ‘Has the doctor released you yet?’
‘No ... but I feel all right.’
‘Let me see you move your arms.’
Julia flexed her muscles, and turned her wrists, and apart from the customary stiffness after retrieval there seemed no difficulty.
‘I’ll find you an orderly,’ the nurse said.
At that moment, Julia saw a small group of people come into the room.
‘There’s Marilyn,’ she said. ‘She’ll help me.’
Marilyn spotted her before the nurse could beckon, and the girl called out her name and walked quickly across the room to her.
‘John Eliot said you were all right!‘ she said, and kissed Julia on the cheek. ‘What happened to the projection, Julia? Do you know?’
‘Yes, I saw it all.’
‘You can remember it then?’
‘Of course I can.’
‘Julia, something terrible has gone wrong with the others. They’re suffering from amnesia.’
‘But ... how?’ Julia said.
‘We don’t know. There’s been such a rush. Everyone was returning at once. And one after another, none of them has had any memory of who they are, where they’ve been, what’s happening to them now. Most of them are being taken to Dorchester General Hospital, but a few have gone to Bincombe House. And amnesia is the least of the problems. Dr Eliot says he suspects brain-damage in some cases, and Don Mander has had a stroke.’
A Dream of Wessex Page 21
