Traumaland

24 IN CASE OF EMERGENCY

24

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY

I pull my cellar door open.

Dad stands outside in his dressing gown and slippers, squinting at me without his glasses.

The anger and fear merge together, bubbling inside me. Confusion too. And pain. Hide it .

‘Morning, Father of mine,’ I say as brightly as I can. But it’s not the same. Don ’ t let him see . ‘’Tis early, even for you.’

‘I…’ His eyes search my face. I try to make it appear relaxed. He frowns. ‘Hold on, something’s different.’ Panic now. Shit . ‘Eli, did you shave your head?’

Oh… ‘Yep.’ I smile. Big grin. ‘New me, new hair!’

‘I see…’

‘Since yesterday I am a changed man.’

At least that’s true. I am. Just not in the way he thinks.

I can hear my heart in my ears as he looks me up and down, taking me in. I know this look. This look of uncertainty. Of suspicion. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’ he says.

I suddenly see an image of him wearing the balaclava, standing over Jack in the hut. What have you done?

I bite my lip to stop the question spilling out. ‘Great,’ I say. ‘Never better.’

‘I thought I heard you knocking about down here.’

‘Nope. I was sleeping soundly.’ My legs are shaking.

‘Good. Well, sorry if I woke you.’ His eyes are still clouded with doubt. They lock on to my ear. The left one. The one with the tattoo behind it.

Remember Jack .

He begins to lift his hand.

No . I instinctively grab his wrist.

Oops . Fuck .

He frowns, surprised.

Calm down, Eli. Be cool. Think like a psychopath. I let go.

‘Face paint,’ he says and laughs.

‘Oh!’ I blurt out. ‘The residue of a remarkable day.’

He reaches into his pocket and takes out a tissue. ‘Here.’ He rubs my earlobe with it roughly. As he does, I fight against the shiver that runs through my body.

‘There we are. Gone.’

‘Why, thank you, Father.’

But I can see he knows something is different. That something’s wrong. ‘Is everything OK, son?’

‘Of course.’

‘You seem a bit fidgety. More so than usual.’ He pauses. ‘Since Thursday.’

‘Honestly, Dad. Nothing’s—’

‘Since after that girl came round.’

Shit, shit . ‘What girl?’

He pushes his hands into his dressing-gown pockets, tilting his head. ‘The girl whose phone you found on the bus?’

‘Oh, yeah!’ I say. ‘ Her . I forgot about her.’

‘Right,’ he says. He’s not convinced.

I can no longer convince him.

Convince him . ‘I’ve been too focused on the group therapy.’ I lean back against the door. Casual. ‘She didn’t seem that important.’

He might like that. He does think some people are less important.

‘Hmm.’ He pauses. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Eli, but something tells me that you’re not being honest with me.’

‘I am.’

‘Have you been having more headaches? More dreams? It’s OK – you can tell me.’

‘No.’

‘Any … flashbacks?’

I pause before answering. There’s a slight edge of trepidation in his voice. He’s worried – maybe not worried because he seems far too calm – concerned . That I might be able to remember. Remember the truth.

‘Nope. None.’

‘Something’s changed.’

Yes. I’m now scared of you. I am terrified of you. I have no idea what you’re capable of. ‘Well, it must just be because I feel a lot better.’

‘So, yesterday, with Melinda, it helped? It … worked?’

‘Definitely. I’ve processed the trauma and I’m now moving on, fully equipped with knowledge of the truth.’

Careful.

He frowns. ‘You’re not feeling manic again, are you?’

‘No, Dad.’

‘You’d tell me, wouldn’t you? I have a really busy day with work and I don’t want to worry.’

‘Of course.’

‘I do worry about you sometimes.’

‘Well, you don’t need to. Really. You don’t.’ My voice is firm. A little too firm.

Dad nods. ‘OK, Eli.’ He sighs. Rubs his tired eyes. ‘Work today. For both of us.’

Deflect. Move it on. ‘What’s on the agenda in the world of government?’ I make myself sound proud.

He laughs modestly, like he always does when someone mentions his work. ‘Oh, you know.’ No, I don’t actually, because I don’t know you at all. ‘Helping people.’

Something about the way he says it makes my skin prickle. ‘Like always.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. We do the best we can.’

‘Of course you do.’

‘A lot of people need help, Eli.’ He sounds the faintest bit annoyed that he has to do that. Help people. ‘That’s why people voted for us. And why the party received so much investment. Because we deliver it. Radical change.’

‘That’s good.’ Don ’ t . Don ’ t say it . ‘I suppose having money helps with clearing stuff up.’ Stop, Eli .

‘Not always.’

‘But if you’ve got it, why not snap your fingers and make the problems go away?’

I’m angry. I’m so angry. It’s fuelling me.

‘If only it were that simple,’ he says.

‘If only.’

‘How’s Karl getting on?’ I blurt.

‘Karl?’ His face doesn’t change. His eyes don’t so much as flicker.

‘I always liked Karl.’

‘I don’t need a driver any more. The commute to work is much shorter now.’

‘How is he?’

‘Karl?’

‘Yes.’

‘I should really text him. See how he’s doing.’

‘Say hello from me.’

‘I will.’

Careful. Careful .

We stare at each other for a moment.

‘What about you?’ he says. ‘What time does your shift start?’

‘At eight.’

‘Well, let’s both have a good day today. Try and get everything back to the way it should be.’

‘I’d like that,’ I say.

‘We all would.’ He tilts his head sympathetically. ‘It’s been really hard for you, hasn’t it?’ He turns into the hallway and is about to go up the stairs when he stops. ‘We love you, son. You know that, don’t you? We’re so proud of the man you’re becoming.’ He winks. ‘Who knows, maybe one day you’ll end up like me.’

I swallow hard. ‘Yeah. Maybe.’

‘Just remember, when it comes down to it, we only get one chance to be who we want and we mustn’t let anything get in our way. You’re doing great.’

And then he leaves, trudging back up the stairs.

I open my cellar door, wait for a moment, then slam it closed again, loud enough for him to hear. When I hear his bedroom door shut, I exhale. Holy shit .

Then, I move. Quick . Time is of the essence.

First things first, I have no money. I’ll need some to find Jack and then to watch the rest of his story. I tiptoe into the kitchen and start opening the drawers under the kitchen island, searching through them. Nothing.

Wait. I know .

I head back into the hallway to the downstairs bathroom. I pull open the door and kneel in front of the cupboard under the sink. Where are you? Then I see it. The little box right at the back for emergencies . I pull it out and root through the items.

Bingo. A small leather wallet.

Inside are five bank cards. Little labels on each of them:

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY

Who labels bank cards? And who has five ?

My parents, that’s wh—

‘You OK, bro?’

I smack my head on the top of the cupboard. Damn it. I turn. ‘Jesus, Lucas.’

‘What are you doing?’ He looks at me, all stuck-up hair and crumpled pyjamas.

‘Just… Um… Looking for some soap.’

‘Soap? Why?’

‘Because I like to be clean, Lucas.’

He pulls a face. No, you don ’ t . ‘You shaved your head.’

‘I did.’ I put my head back into the cupboard, quickly clench my hand around one of the cards, grab a bar of soap in the other and stand. I close the cupboard door with my knee and turn to face him. ‘Found it.’ Be collected . I lift up the soap, holding my other hand behind my back.

‘Why’s everyone awake so early?’ he groans.

‘Because, Lucas, the Pews are go-getters ,’ I say. I sound a bit like my dad.

Which is… Actually, let’s not.

‘Right…’ he says. ‘You’re being weird.’ He pauses. ‘Well, you know. Weird for you .’

‘Talking of weird,’ I say, then lower my voice. ‘Can I ask you a question, bro?’

‘Of course, Elven One.’

That’s his nickname for me, since I used to like elves as a kid. It means he’s being nice. ‘Right, well, you know Mum and Dad…’

‘A little, yeah.’

‘Well, this is going to sound strange but…’ I pause. This is important. I do need to know.

‘What is it?’

I lower my voice. ‘You don’t think they’ve ever had a problem with me being gay, do you?’

His eyes widen. ‘What?’ He laughs like it’s a stupid thing for me to say. But is it? ‘Bro, what? No . Where did that come from?’

‘I don’t know…’

I do know.

He looks at me sympathetically. ‘God, Eli. Listen, sure they can be a bit … traditional at times. But no. No way . They would never have a problem with that.’ He puts his hand on my arm. ‘You heard them the other night. They can’t wait for you to get a boyfriend.’ He smiles. ‘They want you to find someone who makes you happy. They don’t care who it is. You know that’s true, right?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, I do.’

I do. They can’t have done it because of that. What, then? Does Lucas know?

He nudges my arm playfully. ‘So, what about Peter?’

‘No. Not Peter.’

‘Poor Peter.’ He smiles sadly.

‘He’s just so … nice.’

‘He’s not weird enough for you.’

‘No,’ I say. ‘I like a bit of … weird.’

‘I know you do, Eli.’ Lucas smiles.

‘Right, well. Better get ready for work.’

‘All right, little brother. Have a good shift today.’

‘Thanks.’

I push past him, into the hall, folding my arms so that the bank card remains hidden. I start to walk towards my cellar door, when—

‘Eli?’

I turn back. ‘Yeah?’

‘Who’s Jack?’

My body feels like it’s alight. My cheeks flush with panic.

Don ’ t show it . Don ’ t show anything .

I cock my head. ‘Hmm?’

‘Who’s Jack?’ He stays in the bathroom doorway. ‘Behind your ear, bro. It says Remember Jack .’

I see a flash of something behind his eyes. Concern. Worry. Fear? Before I can decipher it, he blinks it away.

‘Does it?’ Think fast.

‘Yes, the tattoo.’

‘Oh, that .’ I smile. Big grin. Why didn’t I cover it up with face paint, damn it?

‘It’s…’ I clock the pile of books behind him, by the toilet. Mum’s quote book. ‘The only people for me are the mad ones: the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles.’

He stares at me. ‘Huh?’

‘Jack Kerouac,’ I say. ‘Founding member of the beat generation, with William S. Burroughs. I love that quote. It’s in Mum’s book. The one you gave her.’ I point to it. ‘Read that thing a million times during the madness and I wanted to remember it.’ The madness. ‘And he was very handsome and cool and weird . So, yeah.’

He shakes his head, but then I see he’s smiling. ‘I guess that makes sense.’ Silly old Eli. ‘Is it permanent?’

‘Umm…’

‘Actually, you know what.’ He holds his hands up. ‘Don’t tell me. I know nothing.’

‘Yeah, I was gonna say.’ I lower my voice to a whisper. ‘Probably best not to mention it to them.’ I point up to the ceiling. ‘Can’t be arsed with the aggro, you know what I mean? They think I’m doing really well.’

He narrows his eyes. ‘Are you?’

‘Yeah. I am.’

‘Good. I’m glad. All you need to do now is find yourself a Jack.’

‘Huh?’

‘Kerouac.’

‘Oh, right.’ Jesus Christ. ‘Yeah. Yes. I do. I need to find myself a Jack.’

Lucas smiles. As he heads to the kitchen, I go into my cellar and bolt the door behind me.

Does he know?

I don’t have time to worry. I don’t have time because he’s right. I need to find Jack.

Brixton . Not far. Just south of the river. An hour on the tube, max.

But before that, I need to know. To know who he is. A threat? A danger, like Nisha suggested? And if so, I need to be prepared.

I take out the headset, along with the single chip from the box marked NEW PROJECT.

ELIAS AND JACK

I flip it over. More of Casimir’s handwriting. Tiny, hardly legible.

IN DEVELOPMENT:

JACK AND ELI’S STORY

Fingers trembling, I slot it into the headset, place the pads in position and pull the goggles over my eyes. I then rest my head back on the pillow and am taken away.

As I enter this unknown world of my own past, I weep behind the goggles. My tears flood them.

But I don’t stop watching. I can’t.