Blood Water

CHAPTER 2

Ten minutes later Sean was sitting in the St John’s Ambulance tent, an oxygen mask attached to his face, his hair matted to his forehead by sweat. He’d had some water and cola to drink, but he was still feeling awful. At his request they’d escorted him to the finish line so that he could complete the race, but that had just made things worse. His vision was swimming; he couldn’t focus on anything. His muscles felt stretched and like jelly, unresponsive. He looked at his arms and legs and barely recognized them.

He could remember little of the race now, and even less of what he’d done that morning. His brother and parents had spoken to the St John’s Ambulance man who’d picked him up in his car. The initial consensus was that he’d succumbed to heat exhaustion. The insufficient levels of water in his body combined with the heat from the sun had starved his brain of oxygen. He’d dehydrated quickly, and the situation had just gone from bad to worse. He sat there inhaling the oxygen, removing the mask every now and then to drink some more cola. Apparently the sugar would help him recover, but he had felt like telling the St John’s Ambulance man that he wanted to go to hospital. None of the people around him had any idea how bad things really were.

Eventually though, after nearly an hour, he agreed to try walking to the car. Mum and Dad helped him, staying close in case he felt faint. They stopped by a mauve Vauxhall Astra, but when it became clear that this was dad’s car, Sean panicked.

‘What’s wrong?’ his father asked, seeing the concern on his face.

‘Is this the car?’

‘Of course it is,’ Dad replied, almost laughing.

‘I don’t recognize it.’

‘Come on, get in.’ His dad opened the passenger door and helped Sean in. Mum and James got in the back.

Sean shook his head, looking around the vehicle, at the seats, the dashboard, the radio. None of it was familiar, none of it made sense. They left the car park, the other runners, the crowd of spectators and the sound of the voice over the public address system, encouraging the late finishers. As they drove through town Sean tried desperately to remember things, even the simplest things, but only fragments were clear; it felt as though his brain was collapsing, falling apart. His vision seemed stretched, and the sounds he heard as they passed people and other traffic were distorted, louder than they should be. What if I’m going to be like this for the rest of my life? he thought. What if it gets worse and I end up disabled? The panic rose, but he was unwilling to voice his concerns in case they became fact.

When they got home Dad helped Sean out of the car and guided him towards the back door. ‘Everything will be right as rain soon. Come on.’ He unlocked the back door and they all went in. Immediately Sean was hit by more unfamiliarity. The kitchen felt wrong. The table and chairs in the small dining area were also wrong – the tea, coffee and sugar containers… the toaster… completely wrong. It was as though someone had sneaked in while they were out and completely redecorated and refurnished. What the hell did it mean?

As if sensing his thoughts his brother said: ‘Relax, mate, it’s just the effects of heat exhaustion. Your brain’s suffered a kind of attack and needs a while to get back to normal. This happens to a lot of people who’ve experienced what you have. It’ll pass.’

‘I hope so,’ Sean replied, still finding the whole experience deeply unnerving. Part of him was convinced he’d been through some kind of time warp and had lost several months of his memory. That would explain why everything looked different. But that was crazy.

He managed to get upstairs without help and Mum ran his bath while he sipped a cool drink his brother had poured for him. Incredibly he started to feel better. He sank into the bath, letting his whole body relax, unmoving for several minutes until he heard his dad’s voice through the door.

‘Sean? Everything OK?’

‘Yeah, Dad, fine.’

‘OK.’

He heard footsteps fading away down the stairs.

Sean’s vision was more or less restored, his muscles were now responding normally and he felt a lot better. After his bath he went into his room and lay on the bed. He closed his eyes, counted to ten then opened them again. Various things were still unfamiliar to him. The general layout of the room was right – the position of the door, windows and bed – but the bed seemed bigger, the duvet was completely foreign to him, as were his chest of drawers and alarm clock. He sighed, rubbed his damp brown hair, then turned onto his side and closed his eyes again. Maybe things would be better in the morning.