The Game Ch 02 14

"Do you think he's alright?" Annie asked

"I'm certain of it." Simon sounded frustrated. It was the fifth time she'd rang since Adam was taken.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he's the end player and so they need him."

"But....."

"Look Annie, the end player is the end player. Whoever wins, he has to be the one who makes the final move. Without him the game can't end and the other side want to see it through to the end as much as we do."

"But it isn't a game. Not anymore. Maybe it was in the beginning but it isn't a game anymore, at least not for Adam."

"They may not have him."

"Then where is he? It's been three days. If he is free to come back why doesn't he?"

"I can't answer that."

"You don't seem too concerned about it."

"I told you, he is the end player. He has to come eventually, to end the game."

"How did we ever get involved in this stupid game in the first place?"

"You were just lucky I guess."

"Lucky? Tell me truthfully Simon.... would they hurt him?"

"They might."

"But you said he would be alright."

"Yes. I said they wouldn't kill him. I didn't say they wouldn't hurt him. They have to make sure he stays alive but beyond that...... and they will try to stall the game because they are behind. They will stall as long as possible, for years if they can. Now that an end player has been appointed it's a race to the end and they are going to want to win. At the moment they can't so they will want to delay, delay, delay.... and that means keeping Adam, and the others on ice. Don't forget Adam is not the only one of us who has gone missing in the last few months. He'll have company."

"That doesn't make things okay."

"No, it doesn't. But this isn't just about Adam, and it isn't even about any of them. This is about the game and winning it."

"Then it is about Adam. He's the only one who can."

Simon groaned. "What is it with you and Adam? There's nothing going on between you is there? That would not be a good idea."

"A good idea? You mean it might get in the way of your precious game. No, there is nothing going on between us... not in the way you are thinking. But I do care about him..... a lot. He is.... he is..... different, more.... He's special."

"Of course he is, he's the end player."

"Oh to hell with that. To hell with the end game. To hell with the game. This is about someone being kidnapped and held against their will. This is about someone in danger, at risk of harm. We have to go to the police."

"We can't."

"Why not?"

"Because involving the authorities is against the rules."

"To hell with the rules. Isn't kidnapping and torture against the rules?"

"Actually, no. As long as it is kept private anything goes. If one side finds out about a move of the other then they can nullify it."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"It means that if we find where they are holding our people, what they are doing to them or with them, then they have to stop."

"Then we have to find them."

"Do you think that we are not trying?"

"I don't know, are you?"

"We are."

"Oh. Please try harder. Please find Adam. Adam couldn't cope with this. Adam will be so afraid. He is not brave and strong like you, like the rest of you."

"I think you are being unfair to him. I think he can cope with a lot more than you give him credit for. I think he is braver and stronger than you know."

"Why? Why would you think that? You don't know him, you don't know him at all."

" Because he is the end player.... he is going to have to be."

*****

"Good morning Daniel. How are you feeling today?"

This time it is definitely a hospital. There is a ward, a nurse; the whole thing. But... there is something wrong, something that doesn't fit. It's the noises. People are making noises, singing, crying, moaning, screaming...

"Where am I?"

The nurse touches my arm. "Don't worry, it will come."

"What happened to me?"

"You've been poorly sweetheart; but you're all better now."

My head feels like it is going to explode. It is really hard to think about anything; hard to formulate the words to express my thoughts. I feel terrible. If this is better then I must have been pretty sick.

"What is this place?"

"It's a hospital. You know that."

"What kind of a hospital."

"It's a psychiatric hospital."

Ah... now things make more sense. "Am I mad?"

The nurse laughs. "Of course you're not mad. As I said, you've been ill. Now you're better but you're still having a few problems with your memory."

"When you say... ill... do you mean....?"

"You're full of questions this morning Daniel, which is good, but I don't have time to answer them all. As you can hear, we are rather busy today. The good news is that the Professor will be around in just a few minutes and if he's happy then you're out of here today."

"Out of here? Where am I going?"

"Somewhere that you can start getting back to normal. Just relax for a while, he won't be long."

I lie back and close my eyes. Something is struggling to surface in the soup that fills my head. A memory. A memory? I open my eyes and look around. I am in a cubicle. The curtains are drawn around the bed to shut me off from the rest of the ward. Has the nurse just done that? I remember seeing the ward, other beds, other patients. When was it? Was it just now, or another time? Am I forgetting things even as they happen?

I close my eyes again and try to relax. It's hard to relax when you don't know who you are or where you are or what happened to you to get you where you are and the only memory you have is of pain. The cubicle I am in is empty of anything except the bed. I remember machines, I remember being drugged and then... then the pain. Or is it? Is it a memory at all?

I open my eyes again and look down at my arms. Not a dream then. They are bruised and there are clean white dressings over the places where the tubes went it. What did they do to me?

A strange thought occurs to me.... strange because the answer should have been obvious but wasn't. When they did what they did... were they trying to bring back my memory, or take it away? Why would I think that?

While I am thinking that strange thought, the curtain twitches aside and a man comes into the cubicle. He seems familiar to me but I can't quite remember how or where or who. I must look puzzled because he smiles. Am I being paranoid to think that his smile is gleeful?

"I am Professor Bowen, Daniel. I have been looking after you, do you remember me?"

"No. I don't remember anything."

"That's a great shame Daniel. I appreciate how hard it must be for you, but I am convinced that it will come back to you in the end."

"It doesn't matter." And it doesn't. It doesn't matter at all. I'm too tired, too confused, too... "My head hurts when I think about it."

"That will ease in time. You've been through a lot."

"What? What have I been through? The nurse said I've been ill... what was wrong? What happened to me?"

"No one knows for sure what happened to you. Someone took you into a casualty department at the local hospital; they found you wandering in the woods. You had no idea who you are or where you had come from. You were... ill. You had a high fever and you were.... raving. I can't be sure but I think you had either taken or been given hallucinogenic drugs... you were seeing things, making wild accusations. You didn't eat; you didn't sleep; you barely acknowledged anyone or anything around you.... and so once you were out of physical danger you were sent here."

"How long have I been here?"

"Five days."

"What... what have you.... what has happened to me here?"

"You speak as if you think it was something bad?"

"I don't know what to think. I don't remember anything."

"You've been asleep for most of the time... by my design. I have developed a new treatment programme and you were an ideal candidate. You have responded extremely well to it. The paranoia, the hallucinations, the mania, the suicidal tendencies have all pretty much disappeared. Unfortunately the only thing that has not responded is your memory.

"I'm pretty certain that, given time and the right medication your memory will return to you but it is important that you don't try to force it. You have to let it come back naturally."

"That makes sense."

"Good." He had been examining me while he spoke and he patted my arm. "Well, apart from the memory problems you're in pretty good shape now so I don't see any reason to keep you here. We have a facility not far from here. It's kind of a halfway house. There are staff on hand twenty four hours a day but it is a more natural situation, it will help you feel more normal and possibly help your memory to return more quickly. I think that you're up to going there. What do you think?"

"Um... I think... I think that I... don't know what to think. I can't... I can't...c" I have to close my eyes because, for some reason, his face scares me, and the thought of leaving the hospital scares me... but not as much as staying there. "Yeah... I think I'm up to it."

"Good. That's.... good. You've been an excellent patient Daniel. I'm going to miss having you around. I will be calling in to see you regularly of course, to check on you and make sure you are having the right medication. But I think you'll do better in a less formal environment."

"If you say so."

"I do. I have had your prescription made up and given your medication to the staff who will be taking care of you. They will make sure you take it so you don't have to remember anything. I will be coming to see you regularly to check that it is doing what it is meant to do. To start with it is going to make you feel very strange but bear with it and your body will get used to it quite soon. One your memory starts to come back we will gradually reduce it until, hopefully you will be back to normal."

"What if my memory doesn't come back?"

"Then we'll deal with that when we come to it."

"Okay."

"It's settled then. Your clothes are in the cupboard. I'll leave you to get dressed. I'll come back in a couple of minutes to give you your first dose of medication and then you can go."

It is hard to find the energy, the motivation, to get out of bed. I am tired. When I throw off the sheets and look down at myself I see a stranger. The body is mine but it feels... it feels like it doesn't belong to me. I am so detached that it takes a while to figure out how to pull on my jeans. Both they and the plain black jumper are too big for me. Have I lost weight? Are these my clothes at all?

I am still struggling with my shoes when the Professor comes back. "You look tired. Was that too much for you?"

He seems all concern but there is something hollow in his sentiment... is this just the paranoia he was talking about? Am I not as well as he thinks I am... or just not as fooled?

"No. I'm fine."

"Good. Now, I'm going to give you the first dose of your medication by injection so that it gets into your system quickly. After that you will take it in pill form three times a day. As I told you, it will make you feel strange for the first few days but after that you should feel more normal. Hopefully we will be reducing it very soon anyway. Are you okay with that?"

Okay? I'm not okay with any of it. I am not okay with waking up in a fucking psychiatric hospital with no memory and a deep mistrust of the person who is supposed to be looking after me, which may or may not be down to paranoia. I am not okay with the fact that I have a small distant part of my mind telling me that I really should be terribly afraid. I am not okay that I am going to be drugged senseless and sent out to god knows where with god knows who being in charge of my meds. I am not okay with any of it and most of all I am not okay with the fact that I have no control.

But I can't tell him that I'm not okay and I certainly can't tell him why so I just nod and hold out my arm.

****

The Game has been played in every country in every era throughout the whole of time. Once in every century across the ages; two sides; one goal, to reach the end of the game, to be in the right place at the right time to win. Two teams working against each other to place the last piece and gain immeasurable power. Civilisations have risen and fallen on a turn of the game; all to win; to be the one to open the gates of power.

The rules of the game are simple. There are none but knowing you are in the game and not allowing anyone outside the game to know about it unless they are to become players. Follow the clues, find the right person and the right place, being them together at the right time and.... win.

In every turn of the game there is just one person, the end player, who can bring it to a close, whose presence at the right place at the right time can open the gate and bring their team to victory.

In many ways the end player is the ultimate prize but his or her identity is never known until the very end, until the time is almost right for the game to play out. And then the goals of the teams change. Sometimes plans that have taken years to formulate and build are abandoned in the blink of an eye when the identity is revealed.

Sometimes the end player is already in the game sometimes they have no knowledge of it until they are plunged into a nightmare world of power play and two sides who will stop at nothing to hold on to the power they represent, and to prevent it being given to the other side. Of course both teams have to be careful to preserve the life of the end player because without them the game cannot be won and the power is lost for another hundred years, but short of death, anything is possible.

The only rule of the game is to win and either side will stop at nothing to achieve it.

****

I don't remember the journey from the hospital. There are brief flashes, images of being roused from sleep by strangers, stumbling through unfamiliar corridors and into a car. I must have slept for most of the journey for the next image is of a house, an ordinary terraced house in an ordinary street. The light was very bright and hurt my eyes and I was led inside barely aware, and then I slept; for a long time I slept.

And now I am awake, somewhat. My eyes are heavy and hard to keep open but there is some cohesion to my thoughts, some awareness, but not much motivation. I am in bed. It's a pleasant room. The sun streaming through the window is pale, new. I have slept through a whole day and night and now it is morning again.

There is a scent of pine. The bed, wardrobe and drawers are made of it and it fills my senses, even though it is faint. The touch of cool cotton under by back and cheek is blissful and the softness of the feather quilt tucked around me is almost too much to bear. I have to close my eyes because the light hurts but my senses are still assailed by the simple sensations that surround me. I have no desire to move, no drive to experience anything above what I am already immersed in. I have no curiosity about where I am, no need to explore my surroundings. I am still tired, my head filled with sleep.

Someone opens the door but I am not interested enough to raise my head to see who it is. Steps move around the bed and a figure appears in my line of sight. It is a young man. He looks nice, friendly, he smiles at me. He puts something on the table next to the bed and crouches down, bringing his eyes level with mine.

"Good morning Daniel. My name is Shaun and I am here to help you in any way you need me. You're our only guest at the moment so I'm all yours. Don't be afraid to ask for anything you need. It's eight o'clock and time to get up. Do you think you can manage on your own?"

What a stupid question. Of course I can manage on my own. Why is he talking to me like I'm a child? For a moment I think about asking him but I can't find the energy. Instead I just nod my head.

"Alright then I'll leave you to it. I need to make sure you take your medication first though, so if you'll just sit up...."

I nod again but I don't make any move to sit up. I know what he wants. I understand his words and I know what they mean, what they expect of me but... somehow I can't seem to get my body to understand what I expect of it. It is too hard.

I close my eyes and start to drift again, until Shaun shakes me awake. "Come on Daniel. It's a beautiful day. You can sit in the garden in the sun. You could do with some fresh air. You're too pale. Come on mate."

He hauls me upright and for a moment I just sag against him but then my body gets the message and catches up with my brain. I sit up and he takes my hands. He puts a glass in one hand and two blue pills in the other. I look at them and wonder what I am expected to do with them. Before he has to tell me I make the connections and put the pills in my mouth. They are bitter and I am glad to swallow the water to clear the taste.

"Yeah, not too pleasant eh? The bathroom is along the landing. As I said you're our only guest at the moment so you don't have to queue. Feel free to shower."

I am surprised when he leaves me alone. I want to lie down again. My head aches and my eyes feel like someone has thrown sand in them. But I know he is waiting for me and if I don't go downstairs he will come and get me and I don't want that, besides, the thought of a shower appeals.

An investigation of the drawers reveals a selection of clothes that look as though they may be my size. Strangely I hadn't even thought of that, clothes I mean. Seems I have got used to being naked.

I grab the first clothes I can find and head for the bathroom. It doesn't occur to me that I might meet someone who could object to my nakedness. Luckily I don't.

I get straight in the shower and it feels sooooo good. I let the water run over my body and I can practically feel the muscles relax, one by one. When I start to rub shampoo into my hair the sensation is so good I can't stop. My hair is in a terrible state, it is stiff and tangled. Clearly I didn't wash it when I was in the hospital, and no one else thought to. It takes some time and painful finger combing to get it feeling anything like normal. The conditioner smells of coconut and I inhale deeply sniffing my fingers and then burying them again in the mass of my hair which seems to be much longer than I had thought before.

Time seems to have slowed down because it doesn't feel as though I have been here for long but Shaun is already banging on the door to ask if I am alright. I don't really know if I am, but I get out of the shower and wrap a towel round my waist to open the door.

"Hey. You look better, cleaner anyway. Lily has breakfast cooking so get down here as fast as you can or I'll eat all the bacon."

I look at him and I am puzzled. Does it matter if he eats the bacon? Is it something I should be striving for?

Catching my look he smiles and says gently. "Don't worry about it. Just come down to the kitchen as soon as you can okay?"

"Okay."

"By the way there is a new toothbrush in a pack by the sink. You can use the general toothpaste."

Strange, but as soon as he mentions toothpaste I am suddenly very aware that my mouth feels awful; slimy and sticky, and tastes worse. There is nothing the world I want to do more than clean my teeth. For a while I am kept busy freeing the toothbrush and squeezing toothpaste out of an almost empty tube and then I lift my head, the brush poised... and see myself in the mirror for the first time.

To say that I am shocked would be to wholly minimise the traumatic effect that the first glimpse of my face has on me. It is entirely unfamiliar to me. I do not know the person who is looking back at me from the mirror. More than that... it is... it is....

Wide eyes stare out of a pale oval face. They are startlingly green, fringed with thick black lashes. My hair, already drying, is fine and sleek, and it is.... it is.... pink.... well some of it... the rest is black and purple and blue. It is clear that I had piercings in my eyebrow, nose and lip but they have been removed. I run my tongue over the inside of my lip and I can feel where the ring used to go.... and suddenly I remember how it feels to hold it between my teeth. I had a habit of doing that. It drove... someone... someone said it drove them nuts to hear me tapping it.