No Waking

I feel numb; the cold linoleum floor is spreading through my body, turning me to ice but I can hear their helpless screams; hollowing down the corridor, punctuated only by his gunshots. Cowering beneath this desk, I daren’t move; no sounds now… a deathen silence falls around me. This has to be a nightmare, let it be so…

Less than twenty minutes ago, walking up the street to this building … just an office I used to work in. Dan know what’s going to happen, I’m sure of that.. even then. It’s the way that he smirks as he tells me what we’re here for: just to scare some woman who owes some money… telephone operator by day, adult provocateur by night.. We’re just there to frighten her.

And Dan is frightening, but not in an obvious way. To glance at him you might think studiously handsome but then you’d see a flawed expression; a lack of empathy, a calculated glint in his eyes and you know.. somehow know, that he’s working out all the ways that he can make you suffer; and that he’s good for it. It’s his job… I’m just along for the ride…just.. because.. He’s a friend of a friend who I owe too many favours to. This is a quick payback, and I never questioned why it was so quick.

Wedged under the desk, I’m cramping up now but there’s nowhere else to hide. It’s not possible to see where I am from the door.. but it’s not locked, and he only has to walk into the centre of the room and then I’m dead too.

We’re close to the building now and Dan is still incredulous that my given name is Patsy. And as I explain it to him for the fourth time I have to remember not to make him angry. He’s already threatened me four times in the last ten minutes.

“I’m called.. well, my name is Peter Palmer, but I’ve always been called Patsy.. like Patsy Palmer.. and it stuck.” I sigh and he mocks me, replying, “But you’re Peter Palmer… the amazing Patsy.” He chuckles knowingly.

We find the right floor; Allyson stands at the front of the office, just as radiant as I last saw her 10 years ago; though now she’s a head of department. I open the door and walk in; she looks round puzzled but pleased to see me as recognition sets in… this turns to horror as I step aside and she sees Dan… sees him for the killer that I couldn’t recognise. She looks to me, disbelief and terror widening her eyes and from nowhere he pulls something… at first I think it’s a knife, just part of the act to frighten her.. but then… everything changes.

They say that television has numbed us to violence, they use words like desensitisation… they know nothing. I saw Alison crumple seemingly before the chilling report of the gun, blood spatter a crimson Rorschach against the wall.

I couldn’t shout her name… the screams drowned everything out as Dan never stopped firing, no longer at the downed Allyson but indiscriminately into the office.

Somehow I found the strength, not to leap in and stop Dan but to leave the bloodbath, god help me, and just ran.

I look down at my hands and there is blood on them, her blood…

I ran but know that it’s far too late for me, I’m a marked man now…. Maybe… maybe I can hide it out, wait for Dan to get killed and then surrender.  But now his footsteps are outside the door and I can hear him snicker. “p.p.p.pick up a patsy, Patsy.” And he slowly, carefully opens the door. He has all the time in the world; and like a nightmare he knows exactly where I am. He senses me, smells my fear like it’s a tangible entity. I can see him, somehow through the desks. I can see his smile, devoid of anything but the desire to inflict pain. He looks around the room almost nonchalantly before locking onto my eyes.

“So much for the second coming.” He says and I know now that this is no nightmare… no waking….

And what will inherit?

When the first zombie attack was reported we were ready for it. Those years of zombie films and horror slashers; it was almost a relief when it finally happened, you know?

We were the lucky ones at first, living in one of those high-rise monstrosities; a closed society, which was why it had been built in the first place. Lock all the undesirables in one building, give then all the facilities they need and, apart from work, there was no need to go outside any more.

I remember when Ballard wrote the book “High-Rise” and we all swore it weren’t no science fiction but a fucking documentary on our life. Hell, he actually visited us for research purposes! Course, we got no, what you call ‘em, royalties; just a lot of people laughing at us. Who laughing now?

No one know how the zombie attacks started: radiation / mutation / chemicals / bad sushi? Any of it matter? End result the same; the dead rise and hungry.. and these guys can run –faster than you. Remember that cause they sure will.

Weirdest thing: attacks happened random at first and no one figure out what was happening. At first it was easy to stop the zombies from spreading; shot to the head or burning; just like the films; and there were more of the living to deal with them, but then more appeared and no one could figure it out.

We found out on the news that you could only get zombiefied if you got bit or scratched; or killed by a zombie. You didn’t just become a zombie if you died, so the films got that bit wrong! That made it easier to keep the numbers down, but then outbreaks would start up where none had been before and with no, like, relation to the others.

We figured right then to shut our doors for good; the world had pretty much shut us out so now it was our turn. We had plenty to go round, and enough people to make it work: we were self-sufficient, we had to be. That worked in our favor. We shut the doors and let the world go to hell.

And things were fine for the first few weeks. Strangely enough, this whole zombie thing was enough to bring us all together; despite our difference we found that we had more in common than others figured. Guess it takes armageddon to put things in perspective.

It weren’t because of the food; we rationed everything out and there were no battles for supremacy or hoarding; it was all sorted according to family needs. Everyone pulled together; nothing was wasted. Damn, we had enough to last months!

Somehow though, despite having a complete lockdown, deaths happened; unexplained deaths and worst of all, three hours later the first of them turned. No one was expecting that and we almost lost an entire floor before we could do anything about it. That film, “28 Days Later”? Damn, that was some scary shit, but real life was 100 times scarier. You not used to seeing those things run but before you blink they’ve got you; you’re dead… and they leap at you, man. I don’t even want to think about it; what must it be like to be a zombie; are you aware? Even just a little bit of what you are? Fuck.

We were lucky, we had rifles and handguns then so we didn’t have to fight them hand-to-hand else we’d’ve lost. So, what we do with the bodies? Threw them out the windows; let them rot outside. We never thought about consequences… who does?

We managed to stop it that time, but only just.

By that time all radio and tv had stopped. No one left to broadcast, no one left to listen? We were alright and that was all that mattered.

Then a week later; another outbreak. There was a power cut; something that we all feared would happen but luckily the back-up generator kicked in; all except the 37^th floor. We had to investigate what the problem was. The fire doors had all sealed and the lifts had stopped, so there were people trapped. Now that the world had forgotten about us we had to look out for our own, and I was part of the rescue team.

The floor was in total blackness, but it was thick with silence when we pried the doors open. Torch lights barely cut it through the dark but there was something wrong, we could feel it. I stayed at the back, keeping the fire doors open –last thing we wanted was to become trapped inside as well- so I saw everything happen, every single blood-soaked moment of it. They attacked, a coordinated attack, like a fucking hive; waited for the group to get halfway down the corridor before launching into them. The zombies… tore into them, the poor bastards, they never stood a chance. Me and two others managed to get the fire doors closed before we were noticed; thankfully the doors are thick, toughened glass and it should take them ages to get through, but we knew that those that lived above the 37^th floor were fucked. Sooner or later they would venture down the stairs; there was no communications network now as the power cut had shorted out the telephone and intercom systems; besides, there was no way of us knowing how many other floors had been affected; the building had been compromised and we were now all at risk.

We had to leave, take our chances with the outside world.

A few of us managed to get our shit together, pull some food and provisions and make a break for it. Outside smelt wrong. Maybe we’d been cooped up in the high rise for too long but the air around us tasted funny. Death… all the zombies we’d pushed out the windows were piled up around us now, but the bones had been picked clean; some were dismembered and scattered around.

What the fuck had done that? We saw no other zombies around; were they waiting us out like that had in the corridor? Was it a chance I could take?

There were noises in the distance I couldn’t place; a series of screeches, snarls, growls. It was like being in a fucking zoo. Then we saw it.

A dog, running toward us, tongue hanging out like it was real happy to see us. Now, I love dogs, but there was something about this that didn’t feel right, but I was too slow to act on it. Jane, she loved dogs too, wanted so much to greet this one, got down on her knees as if to propose.

I saw it then. The tongue hung from the dogs mouth, lifeless; the coat mangled and bloody. It lept at her, ripped into her throat; blood splattering it; covering us.

FUCK! Why had none of us thought of this before? All the films; all the fucking films; why had none of them thought of the animals becoming infected as well? Zombies wanted flesh; didn’t care if it was human. That was how it spread; through the birds, the vermin; Christ, even the cats and dogs… rats.

That’s how they got into the high rise. Shit, what about the insects? Sounds laughable, but I was covered in Jane’s blood, who had just been ripped into by a zombie dog. No one was safe.

I snapped; didn’t wait for anyone else to tell me what to do. Inside had to be safer. I locked myself up in my flat, barricaded the door and window and I’ve been like that for god knows how long.

It’s given me time to think: animals spread the disease (if that’s what it is) and that’s why no one picked up on it. We’ve been fucking lied to by the films. I mean, think how bad it  is: bad enough that a bird, cat or dog is infected, but what about the zoo’s we have in the area? The lions, the wolves… snakes! That don’t scare you then you don’t understand the problem.

Maybe the world ain’t infected yet, but it soon will be. We got birds that migrate across whole continents, fish that swim the ocean. The whole world is fucked; there’s no way out of this.

I can hear them outside, they know I’m here and I can tell that they’re almost through. I don’t have much time. I doubt anyone’s going to read this… what would be the point? I got one bullet left. I was smart enough, too many people panicked before realising they hadn’t taken care of themselves and I’m not giving those zombie bastards the satisfaction…..

The Solace Of The Trees

We prefer the winter months; the bleakness; the despair, it’s as if God bleached the colour from the world.

The family has lived by the railway tracks for forty years now and rather than see it as a distraction we have learned to incorporate it into our lives and the trains are now part of the weft of our routine. There is something precise and methodical about living by a railway line; the cold precision of the wheels on the tracks, it has an almost soporific effect, it seems to heighten the feelings of helplessness and alienation that we have grown to love.

On the other side of the tracks stands a wood, bereft of leaves and colour this time of year. I have often found that Silver Birches and Beech trees become ghosts in the winter, their wraith-like appearance frozen in fear or sorrow. I have taken many walks through the woods and have found answers to a great many questions whilst staring at their emancipated forms.

Further on is the older part of the wood; here the trees are ancient, tall and majestic; proud in their suffering, limbs contorted. Some are several hundred years old and have seen much of the world pass by them. Fashions come and go, world wars and births, trauma’s and oh, so many deaths.

People come to pay homage to these sentinels, seek out the solace of the trees. Some have travelled many miles for the answer to that final question and they never leave disappointed. And we have been appointed guardians; pickers of those strange fruit that hang so tantalisingly just out of reach.

We did not seek such an honour, we are far too humble to presume so much, it was bestowed upon my Grandfather on his first walk through the woods as a child. Our family moved here for solace and to find meaning in a world filled with mediocrity, and the world delivered; starting with my Grandfather, it gave us a purpose.

What a sight met his eyes that evening, I can not begin to wonder. I, like my father before me, have grown up humble to the ecstasy. We see no pain or fear in death, just relief; the release that only the acceptance of the end can give.

But for my Grandfathers twelve year self it was awe that captivated him and held him in its sway as the wind gently moved the young lady’s body. There were no signs of force, no mutilation to her fragile beauty, just a pair of well worn steps resting on the trunk (well worn even then; we have since replaced the steps twice, once in my lifetime). My Grandfather still talks of that time, of her timelessness, china-doll innocence –something that he has never seen the likeness of since (and in my more sanguine moments, I wonder whether my Grandmothers countenance bore similarities.)

How long he was captivated by her I will never know, time stands still for the dead, and it was then that he understood why he had been brought to her. It was not solely to hold vigil but to treat her with the reverence she deserved.

Carefully he cut her down; inch by inch, lowered her on to the leafy eiderdown beneath her. He took the rope from around her neck like she was a lost sister and there was not a mark on her body save for the ligature abrasions.    He then ran to the house and returned with a single shovel. Her body was surprisingly light and he carried her yet deeper still. How did he know to start digging? I can only say that from my own experience it felt right. One just knows; when one is in tune with the world then one knows the feelings. One just knows.

He made the hole deep, at least six feet, and it took hours but he took consummate pride in everything he did, ensuring that she was correctly and comfortably laid out –why, she could surely have been sleeping. When the hole had been filled there was no marker left; leaves and loam were carefully laid over the site and there was no way for anyone else to tell who slept there. But he knew, and we know – just as we know that we were not the first to have such a responsibility; just as we will not be the last. It is an honour that is handed down generation to generation.

You may think then it heartless to deny people the chance of finding their loved ones –their son or daughter; husband or wife. But tell me this: had the person wished to be found then would they have chosen such a final resting place? Why would anyone come here to die if they wished to be found or rescued? They come here to die; for final reconciliation, almost as if they were aware that they would be looked after –sometimes to a greater degree after death than they ever were in life.

We do not advertise what we do –I doubt very much that anyone would understand our compunction to do right. Yet how is it that many of these poor souls have left money or gifts for our services? It is true that we seek no payment for what we do and have never thought to rob the dead –for that would be repugnant- but we have found on many victims two bronze pennies in the left hand and two silver pennies in their right. For the bronze pennies it was easy to ascertain the meaning, but why would there be two silver pennies; so tightly held on to, if not as a sign of respect and an understanding of what we endure.

It is a blessing to receive such gifts, we treasure the crossing of each person and we hold all of them in our hearts and minds for they chose us.

I will teach you the ways so that you may understand and revere their passing too, my son. And when it is my time to come I trust that you honour my request and lay me amongst those who will be waiting for me on the other side.

Dad

1)

It was really good to see Dad again, even under these circumstances. The telephone rang; it was a damp Sunday afternoon with the mid-winters bleak and cold as it was and I was ready to hibernate. My wife and son were curled up on the sofa with me and we were in the middle of watching a film.

I wasn’t paying attention but I remember it had something to do with dancing penguins and a word that no one could pronounce properly. I walked into the hall and picked up the phone, wondering who would be ringing on such an afternoon and I was greeted by sobbing.

“Mum, is that you?” I asked. Something had to be wrong if mum was ringing me. My sister, Stephanie, lived a few doors down from her whereas I lived miles away.

“You need to come over.” She said between the tears, “Something.. I want you to see something.” She sounded cryptic, which wasn’t like mum. She was the queen of straight talking, blunt and direct like a hammer.

“What about Steph?” I asked. “Can’t she help?”

“She’s already here and Roberts on his way too.” Big brother, Robert.. it must be something for him to travel ‘all that way’. “You should come down too.” Mum said. “Bring Tessa and Douglas with you. I think they’ll want to see this.” I didn’t understand what mum was saying; see what? I couldn’t think straight, Tessa was looking at me from the living room; she could sense that something wasn’t right.

“What drive all the way to you on a day like this? Are you serious, mum?” I asked. “What’s wrong? I’m sure we can sort it out over the phone.” As you can tell, we’re not that close. Steph was always closer to mum than I was… well, that’s not exactly true. We used to be close but dad’s death changed that. “Put Steph on, mum. I want to talk to her.”

I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get any sense out of mum, I just hoped that Steph would be the rational one. I couldn’t have been more wrong. A different set of tears greeted me, what the hell was happening?

“Bryan.” Sis finally said, trying to draw breath against the sobs. “You should come down here. Roberts driving with Louise and the kids and you should too.” It had been a while since I’d heard Steph cry, but these tears sounded strange. I wasn’t sure if she was crying out of grief or joy, almost as if she didn’t know herself; but if Robbie was driving down then it must be serious. We’re not the tightest of families…

“Just what is happening, sis?” I asked again, trying to get as much information as I could.

“Nothing.. Nothing’s wrong – everything’s... right.” She said. There was an edge of hysteria in her voice which really unnerved me. I was liking this less and less by the minute.

“Doesn’t sound like that, Sis.” I could feel my patience draining out by the second. “Come on and tell me.”

“I can’t explain… you need to come and see for yourself.” In the background I heard a muffled voice say, “Leave him be, pet. He’ll come round in his own time.”

With that Steph put the phone down. I couldn’t believe she’d done that – I just looked at the receiver for a couple of seconds before slamming it down. She’s my Sister and I love her, but she can really be an insensitive bitch sometimes.

I should have left it there; sat back down and carried on watching the film, but I couldn’t. My mind was racing. I could see Tessa still looking at me, but I couldn’t look back at her. Robbie was travelling down because something had mum and Steph in tears. And then there was that voice at the end. “Leave him be, Pet. He’ll come round in the end.” There was only one person that sounded like that, yet it couldn’t have been. But, y’see, I had to know… I had to be sure.

2)

On any other day there would’ve been a helluva row with Tessa, but she could see that something was seriously wrong. We drove down to mums without saying a word. I couldn’t think of anything to talk about because none of it made any sense, so I put the radio on to drown out the static in my head. I looked in the mirror at Douglas. He was sitting in the back, nose in a book with his mp3 player plugged in; in his own little world with no idea what was happening. God, how I wanted to swap places with him; I had no idea what was happening either, but it felt wrong.

We reached mums in record time, the roads were free of traffic and all the lights seemed to be in favour of the journey. It was cold still, wet and it was a Sunday and I wanted to be at home, in the warm with my wife and child, watching a film in comfort. As it was I was in the car, the heater barely keeping the cold from crystallising our breaths and everything felt so unreal.

As I parked outside mums bungalow I looked for Roberts car. I hoped that being another “rational” male he would be able to support me but he hadn’t arrived yet. I really didn’t want to play the bad guy again and deal with this myself, but it looked as if I had no choice.

The doorbell didn’t work. I finally remembered this after pressing it for the third time. This wasn’t a new development; it had been like this for weeks because of the arsehole kids that scoured the neighbourhood ringing peoples doorbells before running away. I knew that the bell didn’t work and still rung it anyway, I was that unnerved. I rapped on the window instead, hard –I was in no mood to wait around; I wanted to be inside, in the warmth.

Peering into the misty window I tried to discern where everyone was. There, in the dining room, beyond the small kitchen, sitting on the same three-legged stool he always sat in was a man; the mock coffee bar propping him up as it used to.

He was sitting hunched over looking at something or someone below him. I followed his gaze and realised that it was Steph on her knees, her head buried in his lap, holding his hands. She was still crying, great sobs that racked her whole body. What was going on?

The door suddenly opened. Mum was standing in front of me, smiling. I hadn’t seen Mum smile like that since before Dad had died.

“Bryan.” She said, and motioned for me to kiss her, which I did so, albeit reluctantly. “I’m so glad you’re here. Robert will be here soon, and then we’ll have the whole family together again… Just like in the old days.” I nodded, trying to placate her whilst motioning Tessa and Douglas in. “Good, you’ve brought them with you.” She kissed Tessa and held Douglas tight, tears starting to stream from her again. I was seriously worried now and needed to know what the hell was going on.

“Mum.” I said, holding her by the arm, tired of all the drama. “What’s wrong? Just what is happening here?”

“Nothings wrong.” She replied, almost ecstatic. “Nothings ever going to be wrong again…. You’d better see for yourself. It’s a miracle, Bryan. Let Douglas and Tessa see him first.”

I did as I was told, conditioning over-riding my spiralling sense of unease.

As soon as they walked in to the dining room both Tessa and Douglas just stood there, blocking the way in. Tessa had gone white as a sheet; in the fifteen years I’d known her I had never seen her like that before. Douglas was crying, clutching Tessa not wanting to look at what was in front of him. I couldn’t see what they were looking at, but Steph pushed past them and held me. “I’m so sorry that I hung up on you, but it’s better that you’re here to see him with your own eyes.” And with that she moved aside.

It was Dad. Dad was sitting on the same three legged stool that he’d sat on for years. I wanted to throw up, I wanted to faint, to run away. Dad was sitting in front of me, right in front of me. I looked to Tessa who was just staring at him. I turned back and he was still sitting there, staring at me; a sad look in his eyes, still smoking those same old roll-ups with the tatters of tobacco hanging loose. Dad… it was dad!

But he’d been dead for over two years.

3)

His shirt was still tobacco stained, the collar still frayed, a cigarette hanging limply from his lips; the worn braces and the faded jeans… just as I remembered him. He’s sitting there, large as life… except he’s not. He’s dead; dead and cremated; the ashes in an urn at the bottom of the garden.

So who is this in front of me? What the hell do I do when faced with the evidence of my own eyes?

I tell you what I did. I did what any other loving son would have done in that situation, I bolted. I turned on my heels and walked out of the door. I knew that Tessa and Douglas were still there, but I couldn’t deal with that – I needed some air. The world was spinning around me even in the cold outside.

That was my dad in there…. But he’s dead, said the voice.. But he was sitting right in front of you… I sat on the curb and rolled myself a cigarette. I smoke the same brand as dad.. did.. does..

“Don’t worry, luv, I’ll be all right.” A voice from the past, the same voice I heard on the phone earlier but didn’t want to believe. “It’s not as if I can feel the cold any more…” Dad was coming out to talk to me, the same way he always used to, but I really didn’t know if I could face this.

“I know how you’re feeling, pet.” He said. I couldn’t look at him, not yet, it was too painful.

“I saw you… die, dad.” I tried to choke back the tears. It was him, I knew it was. In my heart, in the deepest part of my marrow. This was my dad.

“I know, pet… I know.” He put his hand on my shoulder, like he used to.

“You were in my arms and there was nothing I could do. I wanted you to.. to die, Dad.” I couldn’t stop the tears now, even if I wanted to. I’d bottled this up far too long. “You were in so much.. pain that I wanted it to be over for you. Even when you asked…. begged me, I couldn’t.. all I could do was hold you and watch you die.”

“I know… There was nothing more you could’ve done for me.”

“But you died…. And you can’t be here, now. I’m sorry, dad, but you can’t!”

“Do you remember when you were six?” He asked, squeezing my shoulder. “We still lived in Slaugham then, and Fitz was still alive too. He was a great dog –he loved you…. And I’ll always remember the two of you curled up by the fire…” I smiled at that memory. I loved Fitz to; I’ve never had another dog as a pet, knowing that they’ll never live up to him. “Anyway..” he continued. “This one time you were playing in the garden. Fitz was up the other end, lying in the shade of the oak. Mum called you in but Fitz saw you running up and thought you were running to greet him, so he bounded up to meet you.. and knocked you flying!” I turned to look at him, saw the pain still etched in his face, but still the same dad I remember growing up with, arguing with and loving. “What I’m trying to say is, this is me. Truly. I’m here, just like I always was and I’m here for your mum; Steph and Robert. But I’m here for you too, son.”

“I saw you die, dad.” I felt like a record player, but I couldn’t just pretend that it hadn’t happened. “It doesn’t make sense.. nothing does any more.”

“I know… It was your mum.. She brought me back, her love for me. It was too strong, it never died. Her love was too strong.” He smiled sadly, knowing far more than he was actually telling me but it was enough. He was back from the dead, and I turned into him and hugged him for all it was worth.

4)

It was funny, death hadn’t changed him –it was still dad. He still smoked the roll ups, no longer worrying about cancer now that he was already dead. He still laughed at the same things; read the same newspaper and wound mum up in exactly the same way; but mum took it in her stride now, almost grateful for the attention. He pottered around in his little shed, making a mess and cheated at cards –though he seemed to have learnt a few more tricks.

He looked healthy.. well, as healthy as he could. There was a certain colour to his cheeks, but it wasn’t blood pumping through his veins. He just looked like he used to.

Douglas had readily accepted that his granddad was alive again –kids are far more resilient than adults in that way; but Tessa couldn’t. She didn’t want to see him and forbade Douglas to visit him. We argued about that a lot, and it threatened to split us up at one stage.

In the end the decision was taken away from us. Dad suggested that it wasn’t healthy for Douglas to think that such a thing happened on a regular basis; that it was better for him to think of his granddad as dead. As usual dad was right and all I could do was agree, so I carried on visiting mum and dad twice a week on my own.

Everything still felt unreal though. Obviously I couldn’t talk to anyone about this so I had to live two lives, and I slowly felt myself drifting apart from everyone else. Everything I had believed in prior to Dad coming back from the dead no longer held me.

One day I finally bucked up the courage to talk to him about it.

“I don’t know what to do, dad.” I said. We were sitting in the lounge opposite each other. “Everything’s changed and I no longer know what to think.”

“Nothing’s changed, Bryan.” He replied. “The only thing that has changed is me. I know that you feel obligated to come over and see me as much as you can.” I tried to protest but he wouldn’t let me. “It’s alright, I understand and love you for it, Son. I know how you feel and it’s alright, all I have to do is look in your eyes to see how much you love me and have missed me. I feel it. I was always with you, you know, I was always watching you. You were never alone.” He turned to look out the window, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “Some people think that because a loved one has died they’re no longer around, and they’ve lost them. Just what does that mean? How can you truly lose them? They don’t understand that as long as they remember that person and keep that person close to their heart they will never lose them.” He turned back to me. “Unfortunately your mother is one of those people who needs to cling on to their loneliness. She never came to terms with my death, she always clinged on to the hope that I would come back.”

“But you have, dad.”

“Yes, Pet.. I have.”

5)

It was the second month after the miracle, as it was now known, and I began to notice something was wrong. I couldn’t figure it out at first. Everything seemed too blissful. Mum was happy and at peace.

And that was what seemed so strange – she hadn’t once moaned at dad. Normally five minutes couldn’t tick by without some form of derogatory comment from her, but in the two months since dads return there hadn’t been one; this was the happiest I’d ever seen her.

There was something else as well. Dad was starting to look pale again, peaked. Despite being dead, he had still resembled the healthy pallor he’d had when alive but recently that too was starting to drain from him. Each week he looked a little thinner and found it harder to walk about. He still tried to laugh it off, but I could tell that it pained him. The spark that was dad was slowly dwindling and the light that was once so bright was now an ember growing slowly colder.

I seemed to be the only one noticing this. Both Steph and Robert had turned a blind eye to what was happening. Mum had her blinkers solidly down and it was as if she didn’t even want to acknowledge what was going on. He was back and that was the only thing that mattered.

One day I confronted her.

“What’s happening, mum?” I had to force her to face this. I knew what I was doing and felt sick; as usual it was up to me to ask the questions that no one else dared but all thought. I had to play that bad guy and speak the truth.

“What do you mean, Bryan?” She replied, the innocence and happiness sparkling in her voice. “Everything’s fine –what could be wrong?” It was like talking to a child.

“Dad… Alive?” I sighed. “What do you think?” I couldn’t believe I was doing this.

“He’s returned, Bryan.” Now there was an air of smugness that I found hard to stomach. “I always said he would never leave me, and I was right… wasn’t I? Your fathers returned to us.”

I gave her an exasperated look and could feel the bile rising in my stomach, burning my throat as I tried to push it down again. She was milking this for all it was worth, watching me squirm. She was right… “Dad is dead, mum.. DEAD.” I replied, my voice stern. Part of me wanted to shake it into her. “It’s time you understood this, understood what is going on. You, Steph… even Robert – you’re clinging on to the past rather than letting him go and accepting the truth. It’s always there, that you never said goodbye to him. It’s why you’ve always resented me. The fact that you never said goodbye to him has haunted you, and you’ve never let me forget that. Well, you’ve been given a second chance now; a second chance to say goodbye.. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see what you’re all doing to him? He’s wasting away.. right before your very eyes!”

“Then I’ll look after him, Bryan.” She replied, her voice stern. “Like I did before… We’ll all look after him.” What would it take for her to understand what was going on?

“Like you did last time?” I had had enough. I didn’t want to bring this up, but I had to. “You were the one that stopped him from going to the Hospice where they could’ve looked after him… given him his dignity.”

“They were going to take him away from me… I couldn’t have born that.”

“You? You?! Don’t you realise how selfish that was? What about dad? What about what was best for him?” I was nearly shouting at her, incredulous at what she was saying. “You couldn’t have looked after him if it wasn’t for me. I was the one who stayed with you for that last month. Not Steph and certainly not Robert, Me! All because you wanted what was best for him? No – because it was what you wanted… And now you’re doing it again, except I can’t just sit by and let it happen, mum – I can’t!”

“You have no idea, do you?” She replied, her voice suddenly embittered and hostile. “You don’t know what it’s like living alone with only your memories to cling to. When everything around you reminds you of what you’ve lost.”

“And whose fault is that, mum?” I spat back. “Steph has said time after time after time that she’d look after you. You could live with her.”

“And be a burden to her?” She replied and I sighed, it was impossible to reason with her.

“Make up your mind, mum… it doesn’t have to be this way. But I’ll tell you this for nothing… you’re killing him. You’re killing dad.”

“He’s already dead, Bryan, as you pointed out to me.”

“And if you’re not careful you’ll lose him a second time and this time for good!”

6)

I didn’t go down for a couple of weeks after that, I couldn’t. I felt really bad about what I’d said. Mum was coming to terms with “the miracle” in her own way and I had no right to talk to her like that, but there was no way I could apologise to her. Time had to be the healer.

Then one day dad rang. Dad never used the phone unless he had to.

“How are you, pet?” He asked, his voice strangely shaken.

“Fine, dad…” I replied. “A little overworked, same as usual.”

“Tessa and Douglas?” He asked again.

“Look, what’s wrong, dad? You’ve never once rung me…”

“I just rang to say that I love you, son, really. I haven’t had a chance to be alone with you… or Douglas and to tell you how much I love you both. Tessa too, of course. But my time here is almost over.” He paused for a second and I almost asked him what he meant before he continued. “I just didn’t want you to torture yourself over what you said to mum.”

“How do you know what was said?” I asked. I knew that mum would never have spoken about it, she brooded about things, like me.

“I could tell, pet.. I could tell. She couldn’t look me in the eye for days afterwards. She knew what you said was true, but couldn’t face it. A couple of nights ago I spoke to her, told her why I’d returned. I felt her pain and couldn’t let it carry on like that. I didn’t want her to feel alone any more. But once I was with her I couldn’t just leave her again, she wouldn’t let me go. I tried talking to her a couple of times, but she didn’t want to listen… you know how stubborn she could be.

“But that night, after you visited, I offered her the choice once again and this time she listened to me and she finally understood. She realised what she’d done. She had let her own loss blind her to the love that was all around her. Don’t hold it against her, Bryan. What she did, she did out of love, however misguided.. and there are worse motivations.

“But I wanted to ring and tell you this. Tell you that we both love you and will always love you. We will always look after you and you’ll never be alone. We’re always with you. I just… we just wanted you to know this.”

And he hung up.

There was something in his voice, a finality. I’d never heard dad talk for that long in my life. He said something about offering mum a choice, and why did he say that they would always be looking after me?

I ran out of the house and drove as fast as I could to mum and dads. There was something definitely wrong. I let myself in to the bungalow, remembering this time to bring my key. It was deserted. I shouted first for mum and then for dad but received no reply. They couldn’t have left the bungalow, not this late at night. There was no one in the lounge or the kitchen.

In the dining room I noticed that the clock on the far wall had stopped at exactly 11.47, the time that dad had hung up. I looked around and noticed a note on the dining room table. It was from mum.

“Bryan,

I’ve never been any good at writing my feelings down, but I hope you can understand why I’m doing so now.

I knew that the things you told me were true, but I just couldn’t face losing your father a second time. Yet when I looked into his eyes after our argument and saw the pain that lie there I couldn’t hide from it any more. I hope you can forgive me.

“I’ve been offered a choice. It’s the reason he came back for me. He said that I could either stay here with his love and strength, and the love and strength of the family behind me, or I could return with him.
I was never as strong as you, Bryan. I found it so hard to carry on without him, and I couldn’t bare the thought of losing him again, so I chose the latter. I hope you can forgive me.

“I will always love you, and I will always be with you wherever you go. As long as you love, you can never lose me… I understand that now.”