feet he looks at me. ‘Run!’ he shouts. ‘They’re coming for you.’
He grabs me by the shoulder and pushes me through the gate. As I stumble, knocked off balance, I see two bald bouncers run towards us, as they approach the fat man sneezes, thick green mucus flies from his nose, coating the bald men, stopping them in their tracks. My face frowns in confusion, shock, disgust. The man turns. ‘Run!’ he screams. ‘Run!’
I turn and run, rushing down the remainder of the alley, the man’s screams fading to nothing as I turn the corner.
III
I’m running, the scenery all but a blur around me. Out of breath I stop, I know this street, it’s five minutes from my house. Before me the pavement meets a road, I jump as I reach it. In this one jump I clear the road and land on the pavement on the other side. For the first time since this all began I feel free. Freed from all shackles which have tied me down. Freedom, as light as a feather. High.
I jump across two more roads as I make the remainder of the journey to my front door, on the way stopping at the shop to buy a packet of cigarettes. My key in the door, creep up the stairs and into my room. I sigh as I lay down on the bed.
Downstairs the doorbell rings, I hear someone complaining as they go down to answer it. I’m awake and laying in bed. I pick up my phone to check the time. It’s 6am and there’s an unopened packet of Marlboro Lights standing on my bedside table. I only buy rolling tobacco.
SEVEN
Sixth of December
Two Thousand and Four
I
‘Sorry, the number you have dialled is busy. Please hang up and try again.’
I throw my phone down onto the bed and turn to Sam. ‘How can it still be fucking busy? I’ve been phoning for forty-five minutes.’ Each dial receives the same message, the number slowly burning itself into my mind. Sam stays quiet. I scoop up the phone and try again. It rings, I smile. With a minute to go until the line is switched off I get through. They answer.
‘Please can I have your clinic number?’ the voice says.
I reel off a number and she puts me on hold. My heart’s pounding, it always does. Has it worked this time?
She clicks back through. ‘I’m sorry sir, but you are going to have to come back for another booster injection. If you phone back on Monday we will be able to book you in.’ She says her farewells in the same deadpan manner and the line goes dead. The phone is thrown onto the bed again.
‘How’d it go?’ Sam asks, moving towards me.
‘I gotta go back again, another jab then another blood test. It’s never-ending.’ I want to cry. Three immunisations is all it will take they said. Five injections down the line and I want to scream and shout, rip my body apart to find out why it’s not working. The never-ending quest for protection from Hepatitis, a vaccine junkie with an addiction for Energix B.
I feel arms wrap around me. ‘I’m sorry dude.’ Sam squeezes tighter. His warmth comforting. I return the hug, my arms locking behind his back. We kiss. The touch of his lips on mine melting away the mix of anger and upset running through me. With Sam in my arms it doesn’t feel so bad. What’s another injection? What’s another blood test? What are they when in my arms I’m holding perfection? My world is Sam, I do everything for him. My love for him greater than anything I have ever felt. He’s mine, and how I thank God for that every day of my life.
I pull away and look at him. He smiles. Such a beautiful smile. I could stand here for an eternity just looking at him, smiling, oozing happiness. Lost forever in an ocean of you. So many things I want to tell him but I know their value will decrease in the translation from brain to mouth. ‘I love you,’ I say, it’s all that needs to be said.
‘I know, I love you too.’
‘Right.’ I jump to attention. I could stand here all night in a mixture of looking and hugs but there is a task to be done. ‘Shall we do it?’
Sam’s smile broadens. ‘Yeah, let's do it.’
We fall to the floor cross legged and Sam pulls out the plastic containers, we have a bottle of Sprite between us to wash down the taste. I reach to open the container that he’s just handed me.
‘Wait,’ Sam’s voice. ‘I wanna get this on camera.' He pulls out his new film camera, a Christmas present he managed to get early. His new toy, you can see how much he likes it. The thought of documenting this moment of our lives a bubble of pleasure bursting in his brain. I smile. ‘Okay then, if you must.’ It’ll make interesting viewing I guess, a digital memory stored forever onto tape. Re-liveable. A moment of time which can be re-watched time and time again.
With a film camera pointed at me I take the first bite. Disgust, my whole body shuddering at the taste. Loathing captured at 25 frames per second. Bite, chew, swallow, gulp.
I reach out and take the camera from Sam’s grip, it’s his turn. His movements recorded. Bite, chew, swallow. His body shudders with revulsion. The camera’s whirl constant, its electronic hum the soundtrack to our toxic meal.
One by one the mushrooms disappear. Ripped apart by our teeth and dissolved by our stomachs. From that first bite the toxins are being released into our system. There’s no going back, no matter how much our body protests we push on. Each retch calmed by Sprite, liquid locking the mashed fungi in the stomach.
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ Sam says.
I laugh. ‘Don’t, remember you’ll have to eat it.’ That's the way it works, what comes out, must go back in.
He takes a few more swigs from the bottle then passes it to my awaiting hand. The taste washes away that of the mushrooms.
The containers now lay empty. A discarded memory. Push these hollow empty pieces of plastic out of sight and switch off the camera. It’s time to move on. We get to our feet, laughing and joking. I reach out for Sam and pull him into an embrace. Hold, kiss, break apart.
As I pull on my shoes my phone rings. Shit, I don’t need this right now. It’s mother. Answer, quick conversation then say goodbye. Throw the phone on the bed. Slip into my coat. Leave.
II
So here we are again. Our feet patting a regular rhythm on concrete floors. Souls moving beneath the streets of London, coexisting with rats and mice in an artificially lit world. It always starts down here. An alternative world being created in an artificial alternative realm of the real world.
It looks no different, sounds no different. The slap of trainers on concrete, the usual sound of Sam and I. When you’re looking for changes you realise how dull and lifeless the actual world is. Dirty white, dusty reds, aged floors containing the memories of a million feet. London, constantly moving, stale air everywhere, signs of a city living and breathing with an oversized population.
‘Can you see it?’ Sam asks, his voice eager.
‘See what?’ I look around me, eyes searching for anything that could be worthy of noting. I see nothing.
‘You don’t see it?’
‘See what?’ I laugh. ‘There’s nothing to see, there’s no one around.
Sam sighs and stops, looking at me as though I’m stupid. ‘The colours?’
‘What about them?’ I look around again, everything looks the same as it always does. No change at all.
He slaps his hand against his head, turns and carries on walking. I follow, a feeling deep within me, a sinking feeling. For the first time ever I feel disconnected from him, existing on two different plains. His trip obviously kicking in for him whilst I’m left behind, left behind in a world without change. Why won’t it kick in? Why can’t I see the glorious change of colour? Why do I always have to want for everything? Always put on hold.
We arrive at the platform. It’s kinda busy, not too many people but enough to check. I watch, my eyes surveying the scene, willing something weird to happen. Nothing. Normal people going about their normal lives. The feeling of disconnection deepens, widens, all I can do is watch as the most important person in m
y life drifts away, moving to another realm without me. I’ve never felt so alone, just watching his life as though I’m a bystander. It hurts so much, through my frustration I feel like I want to cry. Is this how it feels to have your soul torn apart?
The train pulls into the platform, its doors slide open. People pile off, pushing past those waiting to get on without care, everyone simply interested only in their own worlds. Join the queue and wait your turn, the motto of this underground world, the motto of modern life in general. We step onto the train and find a seat somehow. I sit opposite to Sam, watching his head swing to and fro, looking around him with keen interest, his body shaking with silent giggles. From where I sit I watch people looking at him, their eyes a mix of feelings, they don’t know what to make of him. I know what they’re thinking, he looks disturbed, like insanity runs through his mind. They all think he’s seeing a different world, a world populated with a series of fucked up characters. They think he is, I know it to be fact. I watch him giggle and wish I could see it too, wish I could connect with him, praying to God that these fucking mushrooms would hurry up and poison my system. I just wish...
I just wish...
I just wish I didn't need a fucking piss.
I can feel it, my bladder full, pressing outwards, using pain to make its point. I don’t know where the sudden need has come from, I was fine a second ago and then bang, it’s there