Author's Note
Here I am back by unpopular demand. More of a leg end than a legend.
This is a long story, 42,000 words, if that bothers you then don't start reading. No bitches are burned in the course of this story and the sex is all at the end.
Because I am British I have used UK spelling and punctuation throughout the story. If that offends you then don't start reading because it won't get any better.
I never decided to stop writing for Lit I just seemed to start writing stuff that didn't seem to belong here. This one, I think, fits the bill. I hope you enjoy it.
*
Chapter 1 The Driver
The Burns Unit Carlisle Hospital.
14 September
'Can he hear us?' Michelle asked as they rolled the patient over to change his sheet.
Nicola Evans looked at the monitor. The heart rate had returned to normal.
'No, that was just a blip. It happens sometimes, the patient can be completely normal for hours, then for some reason, the pulse increases sharply then settles back in its normal rhythm. I can assure you that his level of sedation is so high it would take more than tales of your love life to wake him.'
'I don't know. You hear stories about patients waking up on the operating table don't you?'
'Yes, and that's just what most of them are, stories. Verifiable cases are few and far between.'
'But we encourage visitors to talk to coma patients so they must hear something.'
'Mr McIntyre is in a drug induced coma. That's different, he can feel nothing see nothing and can hear nothing. It's important to let his body heal a bit without any pain. He's had enough trauma. We'll introduce everything gradually, but right now we are holding him just the right side of death. He can hear nothing so come on get to the juicy part.'
Nicola was wrong; Robert McIntyre could hear every word He couldn't process it, didn't know how to connect it with his current situation. He didn't even know what that situation was, but the words flowed into his subconscious memory. The stimulation didn't last long. The nurses soon finished their duties and left the room leaving him with only the sound of the machines. Later that day he was aware of more people in the room. Several of them grouped around the bed.
'Looks like he is healing well. I think it may be time to start bringing him back. What do you think, Dr Roberts?'
'He seems to be responding well, Sir, and the internal injuries are healing nicely.'
The first man spoke again. 'Any luck with the family, Nurse Evans?'
'Not lately Mr Henderson. We contacted his wife and she did come in and sit with him the first two days, but we haven't seen her since.'
'It happens sometimes, Nurse. When the family realise how big a challenge they are facing, they often get cold feet. Keep trying; I'm sure she'll come around. Our Mr McIntyre has a long and arduous journey ahead of him. He is going to need all the help and support he can get.'
'Start reducing the medication, Dr Roberts, and let's get that ventilator out. We'll see if he can breathe on his own'
It took him a while but after they had gone he realised they were talking about him. Why? What had happened and why wasn't Bethany here? He was able to process a little more by the next time he had a visitor, He even thought that he recognised the voice.
'Hello, Bobby boy, how it hanging? What, no answer? That's the first time I've known you to be speechless.'
In the pause that followed, Robert tried to think. He knew the voice but had no idea who it could be. Bobby, he called me Bobby. Nobody calls me Bobby; they all know how much I hate it. Robert or Rob are fine, but Bob or Bobby are definitely off limits. Only one person called me Bobby, my father, and he's dead. Oh my god, I must be dead, I knew the voice was familiar.
'Well this is a fine mess. According to these notes, it doesn't look good for you Bobby boy; if you survive, things will never be the same. You've made so many mistakes but this last one looks like are the sort you'll pay for the rest of your life, however long that might be.'
So I'm not dead then. The voice isn't my dad so who the hell is it. Damn, I wish I could see. Where the hell am I and how did I get here?
'Right Bobby, I've got to go I'll pop back and see you again.'
'No, wait.' Robert wanted to say. 'Stay, tell me what mistake, how did I get here.'
No matter how much he wanted to, Robert could make no sound and the man left him to his solitude.
* * *
R.S. Automotive. Penrith.
7
th
August
The Man
It started out such a fine August day and all seemed right with the world. I stood at my office window and looked out at the view. It was the main reason for choosing this site. Situated, as we were, on the eastern edge of the trading estate, I could look out on open countryside and mountains. Penrith might not be everyone's ideal location for a business but on a day like this, it took some beating. Days like this remind me of how lucky I am. I can't say I planned any of this when I left Newcastle University and took up my position with BAC, which was where I thought my future lie.
My PA, Jackie Foster, came into the office with my morning coffee. She put the coffee on the desk and joined me at the window.
'Can you understand why people want to be in London when they could look out on that?'
'Not everyone sees things the same way you do Mr Shaftoe.'
I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh.
'How long have you worked for me, Jackie?'
'It's ten years now.'
'Ten years and you still can't call me Ron or Ronald?'
'It doesn't seem right somehow, Sir.'
'Oh no, not Sir, even Mr Shaftoe is better than that.'