by Alec Birri
‘Interesting,’ they both said, simultaneously.
It made Dan feel a bit better, even though the doctor didn’t seem to notice – deliberately or otherwise.
Adams ended his visit with some administrative concerns. ‘Are you happy with your new accommodation?’
Dan surveyed the room. ‘Haven’t I always been here?’
The doctor made another entry on his notepad and left. Dan assumed the answer to his question must have been ‘No’.
Brian was looking at himself in the mirror. Dan leapt at him, but ended up on the other bed instead.
‘Idiot! Why didn’t you let go of the folder?’
Brian didn’t answer. He placed a finger under one eye and drew the lid down. ‘Do I look old to you?’
Dan ignored the question.
‘There were aircraft parts on that conveyor belt and you were holding the documentation to them. All I had to do was look at it and I would have remembered at least one of the aircraft types I flew! Why didn’t you let me have it?’
Brian took his hand away from his face and glared at him. ‘Dan, how many times do I have to remind you that we are one and the same? In other words, what I see, you see, and vice versa. Had you not decided to try and grab the folder from me, then there would have been plenty of time for me, or should I say us, to read it, and we would now be very much the wiser.’
He went back to studying his face. Dan put his head in his hands. Much as he hated to admit it, he had to agree.
‘Okay, from now on, when I, er, I mean we dream, we don’t interfere with whatever the other is doing.’
‘And in reality.’
Dan looked puzzled.
‘It doesn’t matter whether you see me here or in a dream, I’m exactly the same – a figment conjured up by our brain to help make sense of things. Any conflict between the two of us here could be just as detrimental.’ He peered into the mirror more closely. ‘Maybe worse.’
Dan was demoralised, so Brian tried cheering him up. ‘Look, we’ve had two dreams now, each one an attempt to sort out the mess that’s our brain. There must be something we can take away from them.’
Dan groaned. ‘I can’t see what. The first ended with a mug of tea being thrust at me, and the second with a notepad being pulled away. Make of that what you will.’
Brian walked over to the window and surveyed the scene below. ‘There has to be a common factor. Something the dreams share.’
Dan was still disheartened. ‘The first was outdoors and the second in a factory. Even the people were different – we were the only common factor.’
‘No, you and I are a given. We’re after a detail common to both.’
Dan got off the bed and joined Brian. He resumed his analysis. ‘Well, the snow turned out to be letters of the alphabet and there were letters on the silos in the factory.’ He stopped. ‘And you took a folder out of a filing cabinet. We’ve been talking a lot about filing cabinets recently.’
An E-type Jaguar drove into view. Brian grinned and changed the subject. ‘Wow. Look at that. Something else we’ve always dreamt about, eh?’
The driver parked the car beneath the window.
Dan didn’t know if the letters and files in the dreams were connected, but they were in the reality of a hospital.
Tony got out of the car, which wiped the smile off Brian’s face.
‘How can Tony afford a car like that?’
Dan didn’t care. He now knew where to find the answer to what had happened to him and everyone else. He watched Tony enter the building and hatched a plan to ensure he got access to the hospital’s patient files.
It wasn’t going to be blackmail – more like revenge. Revenge for having an affair with his wife. Dan seethed. He was about to receive a visit from someone he thought was a close friend, only to seen him kiss his wife full on the lips just the day before. Dan was so angry he wondered if he would even be able to control himself while presenting Tony with the fait accompli: Claire and he could have what they wanted providing Dan got Lucy and proof of what had happened to him and the other patients.
Like it or not, Tony would have to get access to the hospital’s records. Dan flinched with pain as he clenched his fists in a mixture of rage and nervous anticipation. He only had to hit Tony once and any chance of the plan working would be over. No matter what, Dan had to remain calm throughout while his demands were detailed. There was a knock on the door and Tony walked in. He threw what he had in his arms onto the bed.
‘Right, get dressed. We’re getting out of this place for a while.’
Dan looked at the clothes. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t remember what it was.
‘Are you all right?’
Dan frowned. ‘There was something I had to say to you.’ He tried to recall it. ‘But I’ve forgotten what it was.’
Tony smiled. ‘Let’s get you dressed – I think you’re going to like what I have waiting for you outside.’ Dan undid the buttons on his pyjamas while wondering what it could be.
A few minutes later and Dan was being wheeled down the corridor towards the hospital lifts. He pressed the button when they got there.
‘Tony? Do you and I need to discuss anything? Something of a personal nature?’
His friend became furtive and glanced up and down the corridor. He raised a finger to his lips. ‘Shhh. Not here. Wait till we’re outside.’
At least Dan knew it was something important. They descended in the lift and were soon in the open air, admiring Dan’s dream car – an E-type Jaguar.
‘When did you get this? Must have cost a fortune. Brand new too, looking at the number plate.’
‘You’re joking, aren’t you? I can’t afford this – thought it might help with your memory.’
Dan’s face lit up. ‘You mean I own this? This is my car?’
‘Come on, Dan. You should know the score by now. You tell me what you genuinely believe and I’ll nod my head and pretend to agree.’
Dan scowled at him. ‘Yeah, that’s one thing I do remember – my family and friends have all turned on me in the name of my so-called recovery.’
Tony shrugged. ‘Do you want to go for a spin, or what?’
Dan became like the proverbial kid in a sweet shop and hauled himself out of the wheelchair by the door handle. Tony squeezed the chair into the E-type’s boot.
They were soon hurtling down country lanes. Dan was enjoying the ride, but a sense of escaping the hospital surpassed it. He inspected and ran his hands over every surface within reach, waiting for something to trigger what he hoped for – that the car was his. It didn’t happen.
‘Perhaps if I drove for a bit?’
Tony laughed. ‘Not a hope in hell’s chance. Not insured for a start, and Lucy would never forgive me if I didn’t bring her dad back in one piece.’
The mention of his daughter made Dan think she was what they had to discuss, but he couldn’t think why. Trees and hedgerows flashed by.
‘Everything seems so green compared to how I remember it.’
Tony slowed as they approached a layby. ‘That’s because you’ve been stuck in that hospital for six months. The last time you saw trees and hedges, most of them would have been bare.’ He indicated, pulled over, and switched off the engine. ‘Right.’ He reached behind Dan’s seat. ‘Feast your eyes on that lot.’
Paperwork landed on Dan’s lap. It appeared to be photocopies of something, but the print was blurred. ‘What’s this?’
‘What you asked me to get you months ago – patient records.’
Dan suddenly remembered that was part of what he wanted Tony to do. The word sunk in. ‘Months? I asked for these months ago?’
‘Almost since the day you first woke up. It’s taken me all this time to gain access and copy them. Just c
all me Bond – James Bond.’
Dan chuckled. ‘You should have brought an Aston Martin instead.’ He became serious. ‘You won’t get into trouble, will you?’
Tony tapped the side of his nose. ‘Ask no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.’
Dan raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, that’s debatable. Particularly as deceit from others appears to be a necessary part of my treatment.’ He held the first copy up and then brought it to his nose. It remained blurred. Dan dropped it back to his lap. A scan of the rest revealed them all to be just as bad. ‘Well, I’m sorry, Bond, but you’ve screwed up. They’re impossible to read.’ Dan coudn’t hide his frustration.
Tony reached into the glove compartment.
‘Here, put your reading glasses on.’
Dan looked at him as if he had two heads. ‘Glasses? Tony, I’m a pilot – I don’t need glasses.’
Tony insisted. ‘Try them anyway.’
Dan squinted in disdain before sliding them on. Everything within newspaper-print reading range snapped into focus. He took them off. ‘How long have I needed to wear these?’
Tony tapped the side of his nose again.
Dan put the glasses back on and read the cover of the first file. ‘All the names and addresses have been blanked out.’
Tony regarded Dan as if he’d been born yesterday. ‘Of course they have. My, er, “contact” wouldn’t let me copy them otherwise. Anyway, I thought you just wanted to know what happened to you all, not who’d make the most suitable bridge partner.’
Dan agreed. He read to himself, but made the odd comment out loud. ‘Boring. Not interested. Not applicable. Too minor.’
He tutted before placing the folder under the pile and starting on the next one. Tony put a hand on top of it.
‘Wait a minute – what did you get from that guy? I assume he’s male.’
Dan pulled the files away from Tony. ‘I don’t know, it didn’t say. Talked more about what he can and can’t do now, rather than what caused him to be admitted in the first place. Very frustrating.’ He continued reading, but was soon shaking his head. He speed-read through the next two files. ‘This is pointless. They only mention how patients are responding to the treatment – nothing I don’t already know. Have you read these?’
Tony nodded. Dan dropped the files back onto his lap.
‘Then do they say what actually caused the burns?’
‘Sorry, Dan. You know I’m not allowed to put answers straight into your head. Nothing wrong with sowing the seeds, though – hence this car and those files. I hate to sound like Doctor Adams, but there’s a good reason why you have to work it all out for yourself.’
Dan sighed. He was getting fed up with everyone knowing what had happened, except him. ‘I assume there is still a point to reading these?’
Dan took Tony’s indifference as a yes, and continued to study the documents. He spoke again after a minute or so.
‘There are injuries and the causes of them mentioned, but only in reference to accidents suffered after admission.’ He pondered that. ‘Which file’s mine?’
Tony flicked through the pile and pulled out the one marked with a cross. Dan skipped through it until he found what he was looking for.
Everything about his accident with the barbecue was detailed word for word and as he remembered it, but something about the author’s conclusion intrigued him. He gave it to Tony and told him to keep the page open while he found and read findings from two similar incidents. He drew attention to them.
‘Listen to this: “The inquiry found the condition caused him to trip.”’ He read out loud from another file. ‘“The condition led to the fall.”’ He took his file back from Tony and emphasised the operative word. ‘“The condition caused him to stumble and put his left hand into the flames.”’ He turned to Tony. ‘We’re all suffering from some kind of medical condition, aren’t we?’
Tony started the engine.
Chapter Seven
Dan studied the backs of his hands. ‘So, what is it then?’
Tony switched on the car’s indicator and prepared to pull out. ‘Fancy some breakfast?’
Dan knew Tony was avoiding the question, but was hungry all the same.
The E-type was manoeuvred back out on to the road. There was nothing ahead so Tony put his foot down and, within seconds, had exceeded the speed limit. He kept on accelerating.
The E-type had just passed seventy miles per hour when Dan realised the glasses enabled him to see his injuries in greater detail, so he brought both hands up to his face. Eighty came and went.
‘I suppose burns could technically still be defined as a condition.’
Ninety. The uneven road surface caused his hands to jump, but he worked through it.
‘But no one can survive one hundred per cent burns, so it can’t be that.’
One hundred. The car began to gently pitch up and down. Dan continued to study his hands.
‘And there’s the psychological issues. Everyone has them in one form or another.’
One hundred and ten. The car crested bumps as opposed to absorbing them. Even with his glasses, increasing vibration meant Dan’s hands became a blur, so he dropped them back onto his lap.
‘And we’re all in a hospital that specialises in neurology.’
The needle passed through one hundred and twenty miles per hour and Tony grinned – just as a tractor drove out of a field and into their path. Tony stamped on the brakes and attempted to steer around it but the wheels had locked and the E-type started to slide. The car drifted, with just the bonnet making it to the overtaking side of the road. The passenger compartment was less than a second away from hitting the rear-right quarter of the tractor when one of the rear wheels dug into a pot-hole and, by a miracle, bounced the car back into line.
They hurtled past, clearing the machine by inches. Another miracle ensured no vehicles were approaching in the opposite direction, otherwise they’d both be dead by now. Tony took his foot off the brake, pulled back over to the correct side of the road and coasted into a layby. He switched off the engine.
Dan turned to him. ‘We’re all suffering from some kind of psychological condition, aren’t we?’
Tony snapped. ‘Didn’t you see the tractor? We nearly hit it!’
Dan was unmoved. He looked at the trembling hands on the steering wheel. ‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?’
‘Well, yes, but even so, how can you just take it so calmly? We could have been killed!’
Dan remained impassive. ‘It’s no big deal. I’d just wake up.’
Tony turned to Dan and put a hand on his forearm. ‘Dan – we’re not in a dream – this is reality! We were doing well over a hundred miles an hour. Had we collided with that tractor, we’d both be dead now.’ He leaned across. ‘For real.’
Dan stared ahead and put a hand to his temple.
The tractor pulled up behind and the driver ran over. ‘Are you two all right?’
Tony wound down the window to answer, but nervous shock caused him to fumble the response. ‘Fine thanks! Lovely tractor. What’ll she do?’
The farmer said nothing – he was watching the passenger slamming the lid of the glove compartment against his fingers. Dan let out a yelp, and placed the bruised digits under the opposite armpit. He grimaced while acknowledging the tractor driver.
‘It’s okay, I thought we were dreaming!’
The farmer mumbled, ‘Bloody idiots’ and went back to his tractor. He climbed into it and went on his way. He mouthed something as he drove past.
Tony gulped some fresh air through the open window. Dan rubbed his hand.
‘Well, you may as well certify me now. Hallucinations, amnesia, and paranoia are one thing, but when you start thinking real life is a dream, there really is no hope.’<
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‘When did you start thinking you were dreaming?’
Dan thought back over that morning’s events. ‘The second you threw my clothes on the bed, I guess. I had something important I wanted to say, but completely forgot it. I only remembered what it was when you gave me the patient files in the layby, so assumed I must have fallen asleep when you walked into the room.’ He looked at his friend. ‘Are you feeling okay?’
‘I think so. What about you? Has escaping what should have been our certain deaths sunk in yet?’
Dan indicated it had, but only because he assumed it would at any moment.
Tony appeared to recover. ‘Well, I’m glad I didn’t let you drive. I can hear it now: “It’s okay, Tony, I’ll keep accelerating into the back of that tractor and we’ll just wake up!”’ They both smiled but only to reassure each other. The engine was restarted. ‘Let’s get some breakfast.’
A couple of sedate miles later and Tony pulled into a roadside café. He climbed out and went to retrieve the wheelchair from the boot. He was shaky on his feet. It made Dan realise he still didn’t feel the slightest bit bothered by the narrowness of their escape. There was no doubt about it – the car was out of control and going at a speed that would have killed them both instantly had they hit the tractor.
He thought about the finality of that. It didn’t move him at all. ‘Maybe I want to die.’ Dan dismissed the idea, but not before acknowledging it wasn’t the first time the subject of suicide had been raised.
A short while later and they’d recovered enough to enjoy two fried breakfasts. Empty plates lay between them. Dan looked out of the window at the E-type.
‘So, how fast will it go?’
Tony put down his mug of tea. ‘One hundred and fifty, theoretically. Although I think that was achieved on a trial with a specially modified car.’ He eyed Dan suspiciously. ‘Don’t even think about going that fast on the way back.’
Dan smiled. ‘It’s funny how we’re never satisfied with what we have. That car was built to be the best there is and yet there’s always someone who wants it to be better. Faster. More fuel-efficient. Imagine if we treated people the same way.’
