ADAM RUNS (Part 4 of 10)

ADAM RUNS

(part four)

The sound was like nothing he had heard before in his life. It was caught somewhere between the howl of a small dog and the cry of a human baby. Adam momentarily forgot about his nettle-rash and the steadily-growing pain in his chest, and followed the sound through some bushes to the edge of a mud bank.

The woods were frequented by trappers all right, and the fox had discovered that to its cost. The fox lay on its side, panting. Its hind left leg was a bloody mess, badly broken by the steel jaws clamped around the foot that triggered the snap-trap. Occasionally, the animal lifted its head as it tried in vain to clean the congealing mat of fur around the wound. Unable to reach, it emit that lowly baby-cry, before slumping down on its side again.

Adam watched this with sadness from the top of the bank.

Even at nine years old, Adam knew that the fox wasn’t going to make it. If found within the town borders, it would likely have been found and taken to a vet. Out here it had no chance. Both Adam and the fox shared an understanding of this unwritten law. The fox knew it was going to die. And Adam knew he was going to kill it.

He moved away from the bank, retreated back through the bushes and returned minutes later with the biggest rock he could find. He stood there on the bank looking down at the fox, and slowly raised the rock up over his head. Adam did not do this in a cold and detached way, but with a kind of understanding that was both serious and sad. The animal’s suffering had to end. He was angry at that. More so at the trapper who in setting the trap had consequently placed the fox’s ebbing life in Adam’s hands. Still Adam continued to stand there, the rock held high above his head, observing the fox, feeling its discomfort, seeking that right time to carry out his responsibility.

It has to be clean. It has to be quick.

Hardly aware that he was now watching the scene through that preternatural third eye of his, he noted every minute movement as the breeze ruffled the fine fur at the tips of the fox’s ears. So keen was his focus that he did not feel his breath coming in short and sharp gasps that matched exactly those of the dying fox.

Adam waited a little longer until the fox had stopped attempting to lick at its broken leg. It lay quiet amongst the leaves, intense hazel eyes squinting as the sun began to fill the clearing, transforming its fur into a blaze of gold. At that moment, Adam thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

This was it. Marking the spot where the rock would fall he tensed his legs and back, moved his hands behind his head, and got ready to throw.

You’re a little low, Adam. And you’re weak. That thrown won’t kill it. At least, not right away...

Adam faltered. Overbalancing, he was forced to take a step back.

‘I was wondering when you’d show up,’ he said, angrily.

You’re not ready for this, said NotGod. I can do it for you. I can make a clean kill. You know I can.

Adam stamped his foot. ‘No!’ he said firmly. ‘You can’t have her. I won’t let you.’

He hugged the rock to his burning chest and started pacing the top of the back. Below him the fox had opened its eyes and was watching him warily, but made no attempt to resume pulling at the trap. Adam was worried. NotGod only ever showed when Adam’s mental defences were too weak to keep him away any longer. As ever, whenever Adam tried to put this into visual terms, his mind returned an image of a cracked and leaking dam. A breach was inevitable, and it would come at NotGod’s choosing.

Adam tried to switch his spectrum of thought over to the mode in which his third eye functioned. He couldn’t know for sure, but somehow it seemed safer, more private. He had no reason to think this, but perhaps NotGod couldn’t read him while he was there.

NotGod was talking again, trying to convince Adam to relent. That if Adam relinquished control to him, NotGod would not allow the fox to suffer. Locked in his thought-bubble, Adam didn’t believe in that voice. Through experience he knew that NotGod didn’t need Adam’s permission to jump in the front seat and drive. NotGod was playing a game, and Adam knew this.

Adam didn’t want to imagine what NotGod would do to the fox. Perhaps he would kill the fox quickly, but then again he might also play with it a little first. Adam had a strong suspicion that NotGod had other plans in mind, and that on return from his little mental vacation, Adam would find himself stronger, revitalised and worryingly full.

No. Not this way. The responsibility was his to deal with, and come what may, he would see it through.

Adam focussed his mind on the fox, and holding it firmly in his mind, he half-slid down the steep bank. The fox was weak now and it did not move, except to raise its head once to watch Adam as he approached. Adam could hear NotGod goading him on, though what Adam did was under his own volition. NotGod’s words were a smokescreen for his actions, and Adam knew this because all the while he could feel NotGod reaching into him, grasping through the flames that seemed to engulf Adam’s heart, seeking to seize control.

Adam reached the fox just as the first tendrils of fog began to creep around the edges of his vision. The dam was breaking.

The fox looked up inquisitively. Its eyes were bright, intelligent. Almost human.

‘I’m so sorry,’ whispered Adam. His cheeks were wet with tears. A drop splashed onto the toe of his left sneaker and the fox turned its head to lap at it.

Adam raised the rock and brought it down hard - not once, but twice – on its head. It did not move after that. Adam dropped the rock and staggered back against the trunk of a nearby tree.
‘Come then, if you’re coming,’ he said wearily, and with that the dam broke.

Adam’s eyes rolled up into his head, and he slithered down the tree and into a thick fog of dreams.

***

‘Adam. Wake up.’

In some deeply hidden nook of his subconscious, Adam knew it was a falsehood, but still he roused. It was his Mother’s voice, after all.

Far away, NotGod was in control of his body, while here, in the fog bank of Adam’s normally free-thinking mind, Adam was kept sedate. As always, NotGod kept him well-entertained while he took care of business. This time the in-flight movie was a re-run of the day Nurse Sarah ceased to be a Nurse, and instead became his Nurse...

***

‘Adam. Wake up.’ And then: ‘It’s almost time.’

Adam opened his eyes. The half-light weeping from the dorm’s florescent strips was as sallow and non-committal as usual, but waking into its glow was enough to make his head ache.

He rolled over burying his face into his pillow. ‘Just a little longer,’ he mumbled groggily.

The bedsprings creaked as his Mother sat beside him, and tenderly she brushed his hair behind his ears. ‘I’m sorry, my love. Not today. Tomorrow you can rest in for as long as you like. And if you feel up to it in the afternoon we’ll take a walk out to the Gazebo in the gardens behind the West Annex. I’ll even pack us up a small picnic to take with us.’

Adam rolled over and smiled. ‘Okay, Mum. I think I’d like that.’

My God. How quickly he’s growing, she thought. How much more a man than a boy he seems each new day.

And on the back of those thoughts two others came simultaneously. They were alike, and yet vastly different:

How much more must he endure? / How much more can he endure?

Adam propped himself up on one elbow and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t need preternatural sight to see that his Mother had been crying. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Adam saw a great sadness in them. When he tried to recall a time when this had not been the case (he felt that there HAD to have been such a time, long ago, before they became permanent guests in residence) he could not. His pre-Facility years were now half his life away, and any memories he had of their old life were mostly faded, muddled dreams that evaporated quickly upon waking.

Mostly, but not all. Sometimes he had flashes of clarity; out-of-context mental snapshots that made no sense to him at all, and behind them was always the feeling of having been torn from a place of warmth, comfort and familiarity.

‘Hurry and get dressed, sweetheart,’ she said, getting to her feet and making her way towards the kitchen area. ‘I’ll fetch you some breakfast. Doctor Christian will be coming for you any minute now.’

Doctor Christian did come, but as it turned out he was late, and this afforded Adam a little extra time with his Mother before he was escorted to theatre. His Mother, as usual, was not bidden to join them. Adam thought that maybe it was for the best.

He pondered this as he was pushed along on a hospital gurney down long corridors, through countless doorways and finally into a shadow-less, light-filled room. And once the thick leather straps were pulled tight across his forehead, chest, wrists and legs, and the cold sliver of an IV needle was pushed under his skin, he was pretty resolute in his decision. However much he needed her at that moment, it really was for the best that she didn’t witness what was to come.

‘Adam. How are you feeling?’

Doctor Christian loomed into Adam’s field of view. Only his eyes were visible between his surgical mask and bouffant cap. Adam wondered often (but never had the courage to ask) why the Doctor wore the cap even though underneath he was completely bald.

Adam didn’t answer. The Doctor’s question was nothing more than a spasm of the tongue. There was no thought driving that flapping muscle. He required no answer and so Adam gave none. Adam would have shrugged had his restraints allowed him to do so.

‘Adam. I’d like you to meet your new Nurse.’

Doctor Christian retreated from Adam’s view, and into the space a new face emerged. Except, it wasn’t a new face at all. Even with the surgical mask she was wearing, Adam recognised the eyes.

‘Hello again,’ she said. ‘Small world, huh?’

The Doctor’s voice boomed in from somewhere off to Adam’s right. ‘Your usual - Nurse Rowan – transferred just yesterday to her new role in the South Annex. I have therefore appointed a replacement to assist me in our weekly engagement. Nurse Sarah will take very good care of you from now on, both inside and outside of theatre.’

Adam looked up at her somewhat suspiciously. ‘For real?’ he said.

Nurse Sarah nodded. Adam didn’t have to look at her to know she was smiling behind her mask. He could feel it too. His senses had sharpened, and that meant he was already well on the road to another of his holidays. That’s what these so-called “weekly engagements” were all about, of course. He just hoped that Nurse Sarah was ready for it when it happened. Once they administered the accelerant it would happen quickly, and Doctor Christian could choke on his precious data for all Adam cared. He just prayed that Nurse Sarah wouldn’t think the worse of him for whatever NotGod decided to bring to the table today.

As if reading his thought, Doctor Christian spoke aloud from his unseen location: ‘Whenever you’re ready, Nurse.’

Nurse Sarah moved out of view for a moment, and when she returned she was holding a large syringe filled with a cloudy yellow liquid. The feeling of a smile was gone from her. Now all Adam sensed was sadness, pity and something like regret. There was no sense fear or revulsion – Nurse Rowan has apparently taken that with her to the greener pastures of the South Annex.

‘I’m sorry about this,’ Nurse Sarah whispered through her mask. ‘Be strong for me, Adam; it’s probably going to hurt a lot.’

Adam acknowledged her with a small, not-quite-sincere smile. Nurse Sarah seemed like a kind woman, if somewhat naive. He could tell that she was somewhat fearful of the Doctor, and could feel her torment for what she was being asked to do.

If I come through this, Adam thought, we could become good friends.

By now you should know that he did, and they did. At that moment, however, the cold sting of the accelerant needle was waiting. And it was probably going to hurt a lot.

‘It’s okay,’ Adam reassured his new Nurse. ‘It usually does.’

-- end of part four --