Forever Dark

by Gary Martin

  “Yes, please. Thank you,” I reply and take another glug on the terrifying cocktail.

  Once the three of us have almost finished the bottle, the memory of what had just occurred beginning to blur and shoved firmly to the back of my mind, I attempt standing up. Only now that I’m on my feet do I realise just how strong Jacob’s concoction is. Everything starts spinning. I start falling forward and can’t focus on anything. Jacob laughs and tries to steady me, but I fall to my knees and vomit all over his pristine white trainers.

  8

  Pain. My head feels like it’s slowly being squeezed in a large industrial vice. I’m not sure where I am. I lift my head up a bit and have a quick look around. The movement is enough to turn my stomach and I have to roll over and dry heave into a bucket that’s been left at the side of the bed. Not my bed. I’m in a small bedroom. I start to wonder how long I’ve been here. I remember being sick, lots of times, and I vaguely remember Jacob, Terrell and a strange woman bringing me water and changing the bucket. I’m hoping that it’s the next morning but, through this haze, I’m sure I’ve seen day and night through the window a couple of times; I can’t be certain.

  Jacob comes through the bedroom door and sits at the end of the bed.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks sympathetically.

  “I’ve hardly ever had booze before. I honestly didn’t think it would have much of an effect.”

  “Well, my trainers beg to differ. On the plus side, you have managed to skip three days of school.”

  “Three days? Fuck.”

  “Yeah, you were in no state to do anything. I probably should have thought that through. But the school board were okay with it considering what happened. I didn’t mention the hangover to them. I think I made a slight error in judgement with that. I should have started you on the beer and then worked you up to the suicide juice after a few weeks. But the situation warranted the hard stuff. Sometimes, there’s nothing better than jumping in at the deep end,” he says and smiles.

  “I feel like death. But I think my brain seems to have finally rebooted itself.”

  “You ready for some good news? Well, some horrible news followed by some good news.”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “Those three scumbags, they were fucking idiots. They filmed every awful thing that they did. And I mean everything. Poor sketchy Eric, he had a hard time, I don’t think anyone realised how bad. They filmed every act of violation against him. Turns out he didn’t choke-wank himself to death. He threatened to tell the authorities what they were doing to him. So, they strangled him and, as a final humiliation, set it up to look the way it did.”

  “Poor fucker,” I say. “What’s the good news then?”

  “They were sentenced yesterday and executed this morning.”

  “Oh,” I say.

  “Oh, indeed. Anyway, you up for a visitor? There’s a guy who’s just turned up, the school sent him here. He wants to talk to you. Won’t say what about. I can’t quite remember his name. Says he’s your uncle.”

  “Frank?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  I sit up and move my legs out of the bed. The cold of the concrete floor shoots through my feet as they touch it, but it’s quite a nice feeling.

  “Where are my clothes?” I ask.

  “My mother has washed them. They’re in the top drawer.”

  I shakily get dressed. Every move I make threatens another dry heave. I still feel awful and it occurs to me that I haven’t eaten for three days. Not sure whether I could keep anything down, but I guess I could try some soup. Tomato soup, that’s the one. Anytime I was ill when I was younger, my mother would give me tomato soup. It seemed like the fix to all ailments. This is an ailment, self-inflicted or not, tomato soup will fix it.

  Uncle Frank is lead through the door by who I guess is Jacob’s mother. I haven’t seen him for years, I remember him having black hair the last time I saw him, but now it’s wispy and white. He smiles as he sees me, I go over to him and give him a long hug.

  “Are they treating you well at the school, John?” he asks.

  “I guess. But I’ve been better. I’m still pissed that I’ve been left there. There was no reason that I couldn’t go with my parents to the Martian shipyards. My father said I was a mistake, an inconvenience. He can go fuck himself,” I say, with an anger that takes me by surprise.

  “I’m glad that they didn’t take you,” he says, then looks at the floor. I can see sadness in his eyes.

  “What’s going on? Why are you here Frank?”

  “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this but there’s no one else. They’re dead, John.”

  I stare at him, dumbfounded.

  “I don’t understand. What’s happened?” I ask slowly.

  “They were outside, on the surface of Mars, in spacesuits. About three hundred of them next to the ship that got them there, using it as a base of operations and their home while the protests continued. They weren’t really doing anything, just letting the powers that be know they were there, letting them know they were unhappy with the conditions the workforce had to endure. Usual shit, long hours for almost no pay. They were mainly ignored. Which was for the best. No laws on Mars you see. But then some of the protesters got the bright idea to blockade the compound, stopping material shipments getting in and out. When the rest saw that this was getting some results, they joined in with the blockade. Your parents among them. A day after that, the home ship was blown up with half the protesters aboard. Anyone left alive on the surface slowly suffocated as their air supplies ran out.” He looks away from me and out the window. His eyes tearing up.

  I’m in total shock. I don’t think I have the capacity to take any of it in. I can’t believe it.

  “Maybe they got away? Maybe they got picked up by the owners of the shipyards?” I ask, desperately.

  “No, John. No one was picked up. The bodies are still on the surface. As I said, there are no laws to speak of on Mars and protesting is illegal on Earth. The company was well within its rights to do what they did. Once the protesters got in the way of production, they were doomed. There may be an inquest but there won’t be any repercussions for the person who gave the order.”

  I sit back down on the bed. Too many emotions are flying around my head. I don’t know what to think. The angry part of me is almost glad that it’s happened, that in some sort of perverse way they deserved it for leaving me here, for telling me I was an inconvenience. But that part of me is quickly being overshadowed and a deep sorrow and guilt is taking its place. I look up at my uncle who is now leaning against one of the bed posts. I guess he’s waiting for some sort of reaction, but I don’t want to let it out. These last few days are turning into the worst of my life. But instead of crying, I let out a small laugh.

  “Do you know what the last thing I said to my mother was? I said she should have had a backstreet abortion and saved herself the trouble.” I laugh again.

  Frank looks confused and slightly afraid at my reaction.

  “John, we’ll just get your bags packed and you can come and live with me,” he says.

  I look around at my new surroundings and at Jacob standing just outside the door talking quietly to Terrell.

  What has happened in the last few days is probably the worst thing that will ever happen to me. But now it’s done. I can move forward with the knowledge that I’ve reached the deepest extent of my pain and survived.

  “No. I’m staying here,” I say.

  “Are you sure John? You’re perfectly welcome.”

  “I’m sure. I was unhappy they’d left me here but things have changed. It’s time for me to grow up and move on.”

  “Okay John, if you ever need anything, just call me.”

  “I will, thank you.”

  I stand up and give him another hug, and he walks out of the room. Jacob and Terrell wait for him to pass them and then come back in.

  “What was that all about, John? You okay?” Ja
cob asks me.

  “Yeah. Surprisingly good, considering.”

  “Considering what? Your epic hangover?” Terrell asks.

  “No, but that seems to have almost gone now. My uncle just gave me some very bad news that may require me starting at the beginning.”

  “The beginning of the bad news?” Jacob asks slowly and raises an eyebrow.

  “No. Maybe another time, but not now. I need to start at the beginning, you know, with beer. And then work my way up.”

  I turn and grab my bag from the floor and the book Mister Jelvus gave me drops out.

  “I’d hide that,” Jacob says.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “My mother read it to me as a child. Let’s just say it’s not exactly legal.”

  I look at the cover again.

  “Really? But it looks ridiculous.”

  “Don’t ask me. It’s something to do with one of the abolished religions. Just keep it hidden.”

  “Strange man,” Terrell says. “Lots of rumours about his interest in children. They say that’s why he disappeared.”

  “He’s a teacher,” Jacob says. “Of course he’s got an interest in children. It’s his job. He’s not the one you should be worried about, though. There’s that sports teacher, Mr Parsons, who seems to have about ten showers a day in the changing room. Each time oddly coincides with it being full of children. Now that’s creepy.”

  “Oh yeah. Paedo Parsons. I’m surprised he hasn’t been reported yet.”

  Jacob looks at the wall clock.

  “John, we’ll see you later. Got to go to class.”

  “See you later,” I say.

  9

  My intention is to stay in bed until the evening, then get up and thank everyone for their hospitality. It doesn’t quite work out that way. I end up slipping in and out of a restless sleep that seems to go on and on. Each time I wake up it’s from a new horror. Then relaxing, thinking it was just a dream. Then breaking down when the awful realisation hits me: the horrors were real.

  Every now and then, Jacob’s mother comes in to ask if I’m okay, or if I want anything. I say I’m fine and wave her off every time, then fall back into my haunted, restless sleep.

  “John, time to wake up.”

  I open my eyes, and the sun is beaming through a crack in the curtains onto Jacob’s face.

  “Hello. What time is it?” I ask.

  “It’s tomorrow. And you’re due back at school.”

  “That’s not really something I feel up to at the moment,” I say.

  “No choice. You’ve got an hour to get ready. Bathroom’s across the hall as you know, the shower is in the room next to that. Breakfast will be on the table at seven.”

  I sit up.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “Your uncle hung around a little yesterday and told us what happened. I’m really sorry, John.”

  “I wish he hadn’t.”

  “He was worried. Very worried. Anyway, I’ll see you downstairs.”

  Jacob leaves the room. I get out of the bed and stretch out until I hear cracks. I then head to the door, but my legs seem to have stopped working and, if it wasn’t for the chest of drawers to grab hold of, I would have fallen to the floor.

  I badly want a shower. A small part of me thinks that if I get myself clean, maybe I’ll feel better about everything that has happened. It’s a stupid thought, but I need to latch onto something. One step at a time.

  The shower feels great. I guess I haven’t had one for days. It doesn’t wash away my misery, but I didn’t really think it would. After I’ve dried myself off, I get dressed and go downstairs and attempt breakfast.

  Due to moving around constantly with my parents, I’ve lived in some horrible places. Some were squats, some were rented, some were even owned, but all of them were awful. It seemed to me that anyone who fell in line with my parent’s way of thinking lived in complete squalor. Wallpaper peeling off the walls and brown from years of smoking drugs. Threadbare, stained carpets that had never seen a vacuum. You didn’t want to go in kitchens or bathrooms if you had a choice.

  Jacob’s mother’s house was very similar. But, with one key difference: I already feel at home here.

  “Good morning, John. You look a lot better this morning,” Jacob’s mother says and pulls out a chair for me. “What would you like? Fry up? Cereal?”

  “I’d go with the fry up, John. Guaranteed the best in town. Also, the slowest,” Jacob says, looking down at his empty plate.

  “It’ll be ready when it’s ready, Jacob.”

  “Thanks. But I think I’ll just have the cereal. I’m not sure my stomach will take a fry up right now,” I say.

  “I didn’t think you would. But you always have to offer,” Jacob’s mother says.

  “More for me then. I’m a growing lad,” Jacob says.

  * * *

  The school seems like a very different place since I was last here. The mood has changed. Everyone looks on edge. I could be imagining it I suppose but there are definitely more campus security guards around. Is that because of what Mister Jelvus was doing? I’ve got to find Joe. I need an explanation for why he did what he did. Why he sold Mister Jelvus out … then told me to go a specific way out of the block. A way that got me caught by Blonde and his friends. As if they were waiting for me. Waiting for me to be sent in that direction. No. That’s me being paranoid. It has to be. Joe is my friend.

  I try to find him but he’s nowhere. As if he didn’t exist. In the lessons we share he’s absent. In the dorm room his bed is made up, but all his stuff is gone. After my last lesson of the day I ask Miss Brown if she knows where he is.

  “I think he’s having an extended leave. That’s as much information as I have. I don’t get told much, and I probably shouldn’t be telling you. But you seemed to be his only friend. If I find out more, I’ll let you know,” she says.

  “Thank you. You don’t happen to know his address, do you? I’d like to see him.”

  She opens up a drawer on her desk and pulls out a pad, quickly unlocks it and scrolls down the screen.

  “Here it is. Write this down.”

  I pull out a pen and note pad and quickly jot down his address.

  “Is that nearby?” I ask.

  “About ten miles away. Most children are from further afield.”

  “Thanks again,” I say, and leave the classroom.

  Later, I meet up with Jacob and Terrell outside the main gates and start walking with them back to Jacob’s house without thinking. I explain to them fully what happened. Tell them about how Joe tried to kiss me and my suspicions.

  “So, John,” Jacob says, “what do you want to do?”

  “I’m not sure. I think we should go to his house. That way I can talk to him and hopefully get some sort of explanation.”

  Terrell raises an eyebrow.

  “Are you sure? Haven’t you got other things … what I mean is are you only doing this to take your mind off your parents?” he asks.

  Jacob stares at him, then punches him in the arm.

  “Bit blunt there, mate,” he says.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. But if we go to his house and it turns out he did set you up for some sort of revenge bumming, what are we going to do then?”

  “Fucking hell, Terrell!” Jacob shouts and hits him in the arm again, but much harder.

  “It’s fine. I really don’t think he did that. At least I hope he didn’t. I just want to know why he sold out Mister Jelvus that way,” I say. “I guess we need to come up with a plan.”

  “Right. In which case, we’ll do that when we get back to mine. Mum’s okay with me drinking at home, and we need a lot of drink if we’re going to come up with the perfect plan.”

  10

  “I don’t want you out too late this evening, Jacob. It’s a school night. And if you do decide to drink then do it here first. It’s safer that way. Anyway, I’ve had a busy day, so I’m going to head up early. Jacob, behave.”<
br />
  “Goodnight, mother,” Jacob says, and Terrell and I join the chorus of goodnights.

  Jacob’s mother heads out of the room, and Jacob stays silent until he hears the sound of her bedroom door close. He then stands up, walks across the living room and opens a small cupboard. He pulls out the contents and puts them on the oddly tidy coffee table. Three large bottles of terrifying looking spirits. Two are brown, and one is glowing blue.

  “Jacob, I thought we were going to start at the beginning. You know, with beer,” I say.

  “No time for that my good man. Beer will take too long. We have to drink these, go to Joe’s, ask him some well thought out questions, then get back here before anyone knows we were gone.”

  “What are these well thought out questions then, Jacob?” Terrell asks.

  Jacob looks up at the ceiling for a few seconds, deep in thought.

  “Something like: oi, bladder face. What you playin’ at? Then give him a slap.”

  “As usual, a very well-considered, thorough question that covers all the bases,” Terrell says and shakes his head.

  “Have you got any better questions?” Jacob then asks Terrell.

  “Not yet, but I’m thinking that after a few glasses of that blue shit, the perfect question will reveal itself. You got any ideas?” Terrell asks me.

  “I’m with you on the blue shit. If that doesn’t dislodge the perfect, tactful question, nothing will,” I say.

  “Okay then, we start with the blue shit,” Jacob says and undoes the lid of the bottle. He then takes a huge swig and smiles at Terrell and me. His mouth is glowing bright blue, like he has a torch behind his teeth. We stare at him.

  “What?” he says.

  Terrell grabs the bottle, also takes a swig and then smiles a huge toothy smile at Jacob. Jacob’s eyes widen as he sees Terrell’s glowing mouth and he bursts out laughing.

  Terrell passes me the bottle and I take a swig too. It’s hard to describe how it tastes, but it’s not entirely horrible, just an aftertaste of horrible. Like an expensive cough medicine mixed with a small amount of bleach.