Chapter 17.
Jason’s house is out in the middle of nowhere, a converted barn in the middle of a field down the end of a long road off a side road miles from town. No signposts, no directions, nothing that would give you any clue it was actually there until you arrived. This is probably some of his military protection thing, can’t be seen, that sort of stuff, but I just can’t be bothered to ask him, and he would probably tell me he’s told me all this a million times before. Whatever, whatever the reason, it breaks my only rule about places, which is that you’ve got to be in walking distance to a pub. And I don’t mean the hour and a half it would take me to get from here.
Jason’s out tonight, cruising, god knows what, and I find myself lying on the deep sofa watching the huge screen in his living room, playing a war film, because the only films he has are war films, in his huge pile of DVD’s, that’s it, nothing else, nothing more. War Is Hell, This is War, The Thin Line, Death in Combat, All the Lost Heroes, Saving Private Fuckwit, I mean the list goes on and on. What is it with soldiers, completely obsessed by this shit, all round his house. I mean, I’m a doctor, and I’m not obsessed with doctor films, I don’t have Doctorin The House, or Who’s That Doctor, I don’t go playing around with my stethoscope all night, really, do I. Maybe I could take one of those huge guns hanging over the mantelpiece and put a huge hole in the middle of the TV set, or maybe I could go and bury all the DVD’s in the garden, take a grenade and throw it in the hole and see what happens. I need to have a word with Jason about this, we need to sit down and have a man to man talk about these things, I can offer a bit of wisdom and insight to him and I’m sure he’ll listen.
My plan sorted, I can relax, lie back on the sofa and watch the insane violence unfold with the help of whisky and cigarettes until
It’s dark. The room’s glowing with the faintish blue light from the television, blank screen at the end of the film. I must have fallen asleep, I guess, but the room looks different now, its hugeness magnified by the dim light and the shadows and the near silence except for a distant trip, trip, trip. Shakily I pull myself up off the sofa and stand, my legs trembling and I think I’m going to fall. Slowly, tentatively, I step forward and with a small crash I kick over the bottle of whisky, I can see what remains dribbling slowly onto the rough tiled floor, over the broken glass of the bottle, shadows playing in the cool light. My feet crunch over the glass and I can feel it cut my bare soles, but it doesn’t matter. I walk softly over to the television, drawn to it, somehow, drawn to its soft light and the trip, trip, trip, that seems to be coming from it, from inside it. I’m standing in front of it, feeling it, touching it, seeing it, seeing her, never her, always her, the first, the last, the always, the nothing, the everything
Whispering to me, touching me, caressing me, there, with me, in myself, in my mind, who am I, please let me know. “John, John, John” she whispers, “John, John, think of me, make me real, make me come” I can see your face, I can see your eyes of fire and hair like the sun burning the sky at night, I want to be part of you, “John, John, embrace it, live it, be it” I can feel your touch, your fingertips, like fire, breathing into me, burning me, marking me, making me, “John, you’re here, let go, let go, let go” I can feel you in my mind, rushing through my mind, making me light, making me strong, making me fly, “John, John, John, follow me, embrace me, love me”, take me with you, please, give me light, make me understand, “John, see me, see you, see your death and your life”, I can’t leave, don’t make me leave, please don’t make me leave, “John, live John, live forever, live for now” am I real, please tell me, am I real, am I here, am I, “John, take your chances John, live in the fire, the time will come” am I immortal, tell me, am I, “She will come and she will take her justice and I will feel my punishment, with you John, with you, me and you” the scars on my wrists, the scars on my arms, my blood is flowing, my blood is leaving me, “We’ll fly John, we’ll fly, together, I have such sights to show you, suffering and pain, we can rejoice in it” tell me please, tell me, don’t leave me, don’t go, “don’t waste it, don’t waste it, don’t
“Jesus, Mark, you look like shit.”
“What?”
“Are you all right?”
“Where is she?”
“What?”
“Where is she!” I scream, “where is she!”
“Calm down, Mark, calm down mate, it’s me, it’s Jason, there’s no one else here”. I can feel the hands on my shoulders, something real. “Open your eyes, Mark, come on.” Something real, I can feel her, she’s here, I need something real. Open your eyes. “Open your eyes, Mark. Calm down.” Light blinds me. “Okay, okay, that’s better, take your time, try and breath slower, you were having a nightmare that’s all.”
I look at Jason, above me, holding on to my shoulders. “Where is she?” I breath, heavily, and he shakes his head. “There’s no one else here, Mark, it’s just you and me. She’s not here” he’s talking slowly, calmly, his hands still on me, staring intently at me. “Are you okay now?” and though I don’t answer he releases his grip on my shoulders and I feel the pressure go and I look back at him, and he’s standing over me, arms crossed, looking concerned.
“I saw you lying on the sofa last night, when I got home, I didn’t disturb you, just went to bed” he starts. “You must have fallen asleep in front of the television.” I look over at the dull, dead television set, trying to focus on it, I know, there was something last night, what was it, it’s on the edge of my mind but I can’t hold onto it.
“Looks like you may have been sleepwalking during the night too” he says quietly. “What?” I ask. He looks down and I follow his gaze to the floor, streaks of red, bloody half footprints between here and the television set and then suddenly, out of nowhere I feel the pain stinging in my feet and I gasp.
“Looks like you got up, knocked over my whisky bottle, walked on the glass for a while and then crashed out again. It happens” he smiles. “Saw quite a lot of it in the army.”
“I’m, erm, sorry” I mutter but he waves his hand. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. But we’re going to have to take those pieces of glass out of your feet, otherwise you will have a problem, seriously. And we’ve got work to do this afternoon.”
“Yeah, yeah” I manage, and pull myself up on the sofa, gasping at the pain in my feet and my head. My body feels like it’s been through a car crash. If only I could remember that dream from last night. “What’s the time?” my voice sounds croaky, like I’ve smoked a million cigarettes.
Jason gets up. “I’ll get some stuff for your feet. It’s quarter past twelve. Weren’t you supposed to be in work this morning?” Good point. I fish my phone out of my pocket and switch it on. There’s a text from Jane. “Hoping to see you at some point this morning.” That’s it. Oh well. There’s another text from an unknown number. “Don’t forget to come to the station. We’ll be expecting you 9am tomorrow. Ask for Dredd. Think about a lawyer” And a text from Vanessa. “I’ll pick up the rest of my stuff from your flat when I’m out. Then you can do what you like. V x”. Still had to put an x at the end of it.
“Right, here we go”. Jason’s standing at the end of the sofa, and he lifts up my left leg, jerking me downwards suddenly. I can’t help looking up as he goes to work with a needle. The pain is really serious, and I can’t scream or shout but I can feel tears come to my eyes as he’s working, I’m squeezing the leather of the cushions so hard and biting my teeth together, as he works, a look of concentration on his face and a small smile. “There!” he smiles. “Got the first fucker.” He holds up a large piece of glass, about the size of a penny, between thumb and forefinger to show me, then puts it carefully on the side table. “There are quite a few of these in here. Hope you’re not too squeamish.” As if.