Tim Heath Thriller Boxset

by Tim Heath

  This seemed to draw attention to those nearby. The voices increased, in both volume and number. A blurred figure came over to him. A female. He could make out she was leaning over him a little, asking him something. He could see her lips moving, but nothing was making sense. Things went dark, his eyes heavy once more, the sounds drifted away. He was gone again.

  The brief awakening had attracted some attention; a nurse came over to check his breathing. His eyes were still distant, as at other times. The frequency of arousings was now increasing, a sign that he would soon start coming around and would soon be able to talk. That would mean the dreams would start. And therefore the confusion too.

  It was now late. Lights were on, fewer voices could be heard. People were not in so much of a hurry. Nothing made sense though. Everything felt fuzzy, even the sounds. The light broke in again, as his eyes opened. He saw the light bulb this time; for a moment it was clear, a crisp image. Then it was gone. The light hurt his head anyway, and it was now banging away again. There was movement somewhere, but he couldn't tell where. Someone was putting something metal down, the noise distorted by hitting something hard. An echo. A whistling. The light started spinning. His world started falling. He was now floating, now plunging, his body braced for impact, his legs hurting, his arms hurting. But nothing. He wasn't falling any more, but had not come to land. The light drifted away, the sounds fading slowly as he drifted off once again.

  The nurse, Lorna, had seen him flinch as she moved the bedpan. As she turned to put it down, it slipped from her hands, crashing to the floor, rolling in a semi-circle around the end of the bed, before speeding up as it spun around quickly before coming to a stop, the sounds bouncing around the sparsely furnished room. She left the pan on the floor and turned to the patient. His body was starting to shake, his arms and legs flailing, his head rolling from side to side on the clinical white pillows. Then he went still. She checked the monitor quickly, the figures blinking away, reporting no serious change. But it would start soon. It wasn't long now. The eyes would blink rapidly and when that started, she'd have to sit with him, watch over him. Listen to him, and talk when she could. He'd be confused, they all were.

  There was no leaving this man on his own, in case he woke up and talked and no one was there to listen. The camera mounted on the wall was recording everything, had been ever since he arrived two weeks ago. It was the procedure now. Everything recorded, everything noted, nothing to be missed. But they knew, from bitter experience, that left alone, the suffering was much worse. They'd risk losing him. That couldn't be allowed. He was far too valuable for that.

  It was just after midnight when his eyes started blinking rapidly, so quickly to be done consciously. So quickly that it almost didn't look human. There was sweat now running down the patient's forehead. Drops of liquid fear, no doubt. His first images were coming. This would go on for about two weeks. At least that's what had been the plan with the others, give or take. But there was no telling really. The others had not made it. Left to themselves one way or the other, they'd died. This wouldn't happen this time. They understood now. They needed him. He needed them. He would not be left alone, not now. Not now they were starting. Ten minutes later he awoke with a start. He sat up with a jolt, nearly sending Lorna flying backwards in fright. She'd forgotten that the first time it was like that. Calming herself, she remembered her training, she regained control, she sat waiting, watching, ready to help.

  His eyes were open though he was not sure of what he was looking at or where he was. He turned his head to see the woman next to him, watching him, smiling. Smiling at him. He wanted to open his mouth, but words, he knew, could not come. The words were just not there for what he'd just seen, what he'd just experienced. So real, and yet it had been a dream, a premonition, maybe. Yes, a premonition, that was what it was. That's what it had said. The man in the vision. He'd said something about a premonition; the gift of prophecy. Was that it? Was that what had been said? He was not so sure now.

  His mouth was open, but he could not find the words. Could not make himself talk. She kept smiling and then told him it was okay. He was safe now. Her voice sounded like that of an angel. Yet she had no wings. His head hurt, pain from something unknown at the back of his head now making itself known again. He wanted to reach back, to reach inside his head. To scrape the inside of his skull, to scrape that grey matter out, to throw the pain away, to bring relief to his head. He closed his eyes, the room spinning again, the feeling of falling. Falling through the sky, falling into nothing. There was no bottom, no end to the falling. Nothing to end his misery.

  She jumped up quickly and grabbed his head, as she saw his eyes losing focus. She lowered his head onto the pillow again, making sure he was comfortable, pulling her hands out slowly from under his head, making sure she didn't touch the bandaged area at the base of the skull, just above the spinal cord. She stood next to him, just watching him; he looked so calm. She wondered what was going on, where he was now, what he was seeing.

  The team watching the scene through the camera, reported the status of the patient. Reported that he was now showing signs. Reported all that was going on. This report would get flagged, would get passed on to people in suits, military types as well. Important people. People in a hurry, people under pressure.

  The team watched with interest. What had been a rather dull few days was now going to get interesting. Everything needed to be recorded. Documented. Tracked and filed. Nothing could be left to chance, nothing missed. But they were prepared now. This time, they knew what to do.

  Her patient stirred again, the eyes blinking, flickering, pulling her back into the room. She looked at the camera almost subconsciously; of course they were watching. She sat there waiting. Smiling.

  He could hear some buzzing, but sounds were normal now. The light not so blinding. He emerged from his dreams like a swimmer arises from the warm tropical sea. Now he was awake. Eyes open. The room not currently spinning. The same woman still sitting there. Smiling, always smiling. He wanted to touch her, to see if she was real, but his arms would not move. He just couldn't lift them. What had happened to him? He focused on her, on the smile, that warm, inviting smile. Her eyes were blue, with a hint of green. Or was that just a reflection from somewhere? He opened his mouth. He felt dry, thirsty, for the first time in a long time. When had he last had a drink? These thoughts rushed in and didn't stay for long before the next one came in, pushing the previous ones out of the way. He could not get any answers.

  And then the dream came back. The damage. The destruction. What had the man said in the dream? A premonition, or had he thought that? His mind was confused. The word Prophet bounced around his distant memory, but soon faded. He was struggling to focus now. He wanted to say something. He couldn't form any words, couldn't remember any words when he needed them. The only word was hello, and then a smile. Yes, let's smile back at the nice woman that is smiling at me.

  She said hello back, but he didn't hear the sound. He saw the lips, and was processing that when things went dark again. His bed opened its arms to pull him back inside, to swallow him once again. It wouldn't let him go. It wouldn't let him out of its reach. Not for now anyway.

  Saying his first words was a big step. He was trusting her, he was aware of her. That was a good sign. It was nearly morning. She should be replaced soon, but she knew they wouldn't allow that now. Not with things still early on. He had to see her when he awoke, for the next few times anyway. To change now would only endanger things. She called for a coffee. This was going to be a long day so she might as well settle in for the long haul.

  He saw a city, though wasn't sure he knew where. No, he hadn't been there. This was something different. He was aware of it all unfolding before him, before his eyes. In his head. A huge light appeared in the clouds. A fire. A great fire seemed to consume the sky. Now he saw buildings falling, buildings crashing to the ground. Bodies on the streets. People jumping from the higher floors. Smoke rising from lower floors
. Smoke everywhere. Destruction, devastation, despair.

  Things went black. That buzzing was back. That light, that smile as he opened his eyes. She was still watching him, sitting there. Attentive. “Hello,” he said, his voice sounding alive, sounding fresh and new.

  “Hello, John,” came the reply. That same soft voice. Those same gentle eyes.

  “Where am I?” he asked, glad that the words seemed to be coming back to him.

  “Don't you recognise it? You're in the hospital, John. You're in your room.”

  It made sense. Of course, it did.

  “Do you want to tell me about what you just dreamt?” she asked, always gentle, always suggestive, never demanding, never threatening. Forever soft.

  “What I dreamt?” he said, confused, and then it came back to him. The images. The sound. The smell. The fire, the sky alight. The buildings. The bodies.

  “I don't understand. It was a city. There was smoke and fire everywhere. Bodies. The sky looked as if it was on fire. A giant fire across the sky.”

  “Do you know where you were?” she asked, but it didn't matter. It would just help him understand she was with him.

  She was safe. He could talk with her. He needed to speak to her. To tell her all that he saw so that he could understand it all. Yes, he needed to talk to her, to unload. Maybe this stuff was important? Perhaps he saw it for a reason? Yes, that is what that man had said, to tell what he saw. To share, to not hold anything back. To speak out what he was going to see. What he was going to experience. To reveal what was to come––to save everyone.

  “I don't understand,” he said, looking puzzled. He was starting to look troubled.

  “It's okay, John. It's okay, and you don't need to say now. You'll know more soon. We have time.” She had to reassure him, had to calm him. Getting them frightened never helped and might even shut him down altogether. He was too early on with the visions. He needed to feel relaxed about it. Then he would understand more. To rush him now would not be good. It wouldn't be good for anyone.

  It was dark now. John came round and initially couldn't see anything. He remembered where he was. That sinking feeling that tells you your real world is no better than the nightmare from which you have just awoken. This time there'd been an air of death about things. A darkness that had been closing in when he once again came up from the depths and now found himself in his new reality, this hospital room that he had no memory of ever arriving in. And yet he knew he hadn't always been there. The shadows of a life once lived floated around his subconscious long enough for him to be aware of them, even if as yet he couldn't get to them.

  Lorna, sitting in the corner quietly watching him as always, now made her presence known so that he knew she was there to talk to if he wished. To leave him alone might risk everything, though even now she saw John was stronger than the others had been. He was coping so far exceptionally well with what he was seeing. He was developing as they hoped he would. Time was against them, but wasn't it always?

  The camera on the wall continued to record and document everything. The team monitoring John had grown steadily over the last few hours. Now it was standing room only in the office. The recordings would get analysed through various computers. Nearly a dozen different units examined each statement that came out of John's mouth. They were looking for weaknesses, signs, pointers. They were still learning what any of these looked like; this was just the third live case anyway. There was so much they didn't know. Too much it seemed.

  2

  Present Day

  John had not been awake for long before falling back to sleep. The drugs were doing their job. Lorna sat thinking about things. She too was starting to feel the hours now, the first signs of tiredness kicking in. With John now heavily sedated, Lorna would be able to get at least a few hours' sleep. She needed it. They were moving into phase two, and that was when things got really serious. She got up and, checking the monitor that hummed away in the corner, was happy with what she saw. John would be asleep for at least five hours. Then he would have a compelling vision. She would have to be with him for that. It was important that he talked about it. Vital that he saw she was with him, listening to him, believing him. Lorna glanced up at the watching camera.

  “I’m taking four hours' sleep. He's out of it now. I gave him enough to get him easily through five hours. I will report in as soon as I'm back,” and out Lorna walked. They couldn't speak back to her anyway. Just watch and record.

  At the end of the corridor, a room had been put together for staff members to sleep in. Lorna pulled the curtains shut and more tired than she had felt in months, she took off her shoes and just laid down on the bed, pulling the cover over herself, willing herself to fall asleep quickly, putting her thoughts, concerns and hurting heart to one side. She needed to sleep. She didn't know when her next chance would come. And she deeply needed a break from the burden of sorrow that was now sweeping through her once again, as it did when she got the odd minute to herself. Before too long, she was asleep.

  John became aware of the bright light with a start. He was still asleep. This vision felt different. It felt real. He turned his head. He was in a big room; the walls there somewhere, bright but he couldn't make them out. It was peaceful though. His body was not in pain. Suddenly into the room came a man. The man seemed to glow, a radiance, but there was a warmth and safety about him. John turned to him and gave him his full attention. The man smiled in return. A gentle, inviting smile.

  “Are you an angel?” John was almost too afraid to ask.

  “No, I'm not.” Still that warm, calm nature. “Am I dead?”

  “No, John, you certainly are not dead. You are very much alive. You have a great job to do.”

  At this point, John recalled the earlier visions he'd had, though none were quite like this one.

  “Am I a prophet? Are you telling me what is to come?”

  “You are the last chance, John. It's important that you share all you see. Talk to the nurse. Tell her everything. She will help you. She is your friend.”

  John thought about the always smiling face, the warmth in her voice. Yes, he would trust her and tell her everything.

  “But I don't know anything. I've seen the fire. The destruction. The darkness was closing in. But how am I meant to stop it? When does it happen?” John was not sure he wanted to know the answer. He knew he would have to do his part. That was how he was wired. He saw things through. He got the job done. He would do all he could. He knew his responsibility.

  “All in good time, John. I can't tell you everything at once.”

  “Then who are you?” John asked.

  “I'm a projection of your imagination. An image your mind has chosen to display these messages. That's all.”

  It seemed the best answer to give at that stage. There was no use knowing what it really was. John seemed happy with this. He felt happy. It made sense to him now. It was one of the few things that did.

  The man walked over to a door on the far side. John followed. It all felt so natural, and yet, it was all so strange. Opening the door, he walked through it and paused. John felt the chill of death before he was even through the door. Fires were still burning in the distance. A scene of destruction lay between him and the flames. It was impossible to tell where this was or what great city this had once been. He was sure it was no place he even wanted to be.

  “What happens? When does this take place?” John asked, desperation now showing in his voice for the first time.

  “Just watch and listen. Your next five visions are critical, John. You can save the lives of millions of people. You can do it, John, we know you can.”

  The scene before him started to shake, to become unstable. Like tiles falling from a bathroom wall, the scene of destruction, slowly at first, fell before his eyes until nothing was left but bright white light. Refocusing his eyes, he came to himself and recognised the same regulation hospital light hanging above him––he was back.

  Lorna had mana
ged to catch just over four hours of sleep when the alarm went, notifying her that her patient was showing signs of waking up. It was in those moments, anything from a few minutes to ten minutes when the visions were at their brightest. At their most potent and most memorable.

  She was back into his room before his eyes had opened, which they did after a couple of minutes of watching him. He seemed to be staring at the ceiling for a little while, fear and a lack of understanding showing on his face. Then he blinked, and his expression changed into one of calm. He was adjusting to this well. Lorna knew those who were watching would be very pleased indeed.

  After a little silence, as if still taking in all that he had just seen, he turned his head a little towards her, though his movement was still limited somewhat by his injuries, of which he was as yet mostly unaware. She intended to keep it that way.

  She smiled at him. He seemed to return the smile for a moment as well. Getting up, she glanced at the monitors checking his vital signs. The drip hanging next to his bed supplied pain relief, amongst other things. She looked at the tubes going into his arm. It had been hard to get a vein at the first few attempts, and his arm now showed evidence of this with extensive bruising on his right arm.