Blood Water

CHAPTER 3

Monday morning came and went, and Sean was surprised when he opened his groggy eyes to find it was already five past twelve.

‘Bloody hell,’ he said, rising onto one elbow; then, at a loss for anything more intelligent to say: ‘Shit.’

He got out of bed, went to the bathroom, then stood on the landing, listening for any sign of Mum downstairs. She didn’t work at the hospital on Mondays. Sean waited a moment or two, until he heard a cough and the sound of a newspaper being shuffled.

‘Mum?’

There was a brief pause before: ‘Yes?’

‘I’m supposed to be at school.’

‘I know but I didn’t want you going in today,’ Mum said, turning a page of the paper. ‘Graham said you’d be better off resting for a day or two before going back. You need to take it easy. You gave your dad and me quite a scare yesterday.’

He thought about it and decided that he didn’t particularly want to argue with his mum’s decision.

‘Go back to bed. I’ll bring you up some lunch in a bit.’

‘Haven’t had breakfast yet.’

‘All right, I’ll bring that up too,’ she replied, joking.

‘OK,’ Sean smiled. ‘Who’s Graham?’

‘He’s the man from St John’s Ambulance who looked after you yesterday. I know his wife, Jean.’

‘Oh yeah.’ He turned and went back into his bedroom, wondering why nearly everyone Mum knew seemed to be called Jean.

‘And I don’t want you out of that bed today, you understand? You nearly ended up in hospital yesterday.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ he replied. He knew only too well. He closed his door before picking up his copy of Northern Lights and getting back into bed. Pulling the covers over him and pushing the pillows up behind his head, he glanced at the image on the front cover. He didn’t recognize it at all – it seemed different. He stared at it for a whole minute, trying to force himself to remember it, but it was no use. Why didn’t he recognize it? Why was he still having problems with his brain? He tried reading, but he couldn’t get into the book any more. Besides which, he was now developing a headache. He decided that since he was confined to his bed, he might as well sleep. So he did.

He awoke again at around one thirty, to an awful din outside. It sounded like rain, but if it was, it was really hammering down. He got out of bed, went over to his window and opened the curtains to reveal a furious downpour outside. The density of the rain was incredible; the ground was already covered in water, tiny explosions from the raindrops making it look almost alive.

Sean heard his mum’s voice from downstairs. She was talking to someone, on the telephone. When he turned back to the window he was shocked to see his dad below him, hands raised to the sky, smiling as though he was enjoying the deluge. But he should be at work now, Sean thought.

‘What the hell… ?’ he mouthed. He turned and ran downstairs to find Mum in the living room, staring out of the large bay window at the front of the house, the phone held to her ear.

‘I know… I know, it’s ridiculous. They said it would be big, but this… I know—’

‘Mum,’ Sean said, interrupting. ‘Mum, what’s Dad doing in the back garden?’

‘Hang on a second, Barbara. What do you mean "What’s he doing in the back garden"? Your dad’s at work.’

‘He isn’t. I just saw him out the window. He’s standing in the rain in the back garden.’

‘What?’ Mum just stared at him for a second before: ‘Barbara? I’ll call you back in a few minutes – is that all right?… OK. Don’t you leave the house again.’ She hung up and headed for the kitchen, Sean following close behind.

It was hard to see through the window. First Mum peered out into the garden through the window over the sink, then through the one by the dining table, but it wasn’t long before she turned to Sean, shaking her head.

‘He’s not out there, sweetheart – you must have imagined it. Now get back to bed.’

‘But I saw him, clear as day. It must have been him.’

‘Well…’ Mum went to the back door and opened it – ‘Bloody hell!’ – and closed it again. ‘This rain is ridiculous…’ She turned back to look at him. ‘Do you want me to call him, just to be sure?’ She went into the hall and picked up the phone. ‘I’m sure he’s at work,’ she said as she dialled. ‘It wouldn’t make sense… Ah, Rob, are you at work?… Oh, it’s nothing – it’s just that Sean thought he saw you in the garden… Yes, I know, I told him that… Yes, I know… All right, don’t worry about it, I’ll see you later.’ She hung up and replaced the phone in its dock. ‘You see, I told you he was at work.’

‘But—’

‘Get back to bed, now! Come on.’ Sean’s mum ushered him back up the stairs, ignoring his protests. ‘You get some sleep and stop worrying. You’re just having hallucinations. You need time to recover properly.’

‘I don’t want to go back to sleep, I’ve slept enough.’

‘Well, read your book then, or watch television.’ She guided him up to his room and then stood in the doorway. ‘And don’t worry about school – you can stay at home all week if necessary. I’m not having you going back until you’re ready.’

‘OK.’ Sean climbed into bed and just lay there, feeling miserable.

‘Oh, cheer up, it could be a lot worse. Now what do you want for lunch? How about some soup?’

He just nodded.

It was nice not to have to go to school, but on the other hand Sean had the feeling that he was going to get very bored confined to his room all week. He was in his last year of school, and was having the best time he’d ever had. Lessons were more casual, the teachers were less strict with them – probably because they knew they’d be out of their hair soon. He hated to think he was missing out on something.

Outside, the rain had eased temporarily. He picked up the remote for the TV and turned it on. He found a weather report and saw a map with several red symbols indicating severe weather warnings. He wondered how bad the rain really was, and if they would have another flood like the one a few years back. The report ended, and as there were no other programmes on that he was prepared to watch, he shifted down to the end of the bed and switched on his games console. He was in the middle of a game called Undead Platoon, in which the player took on the role of a zombie soldier. His mission was to help his unit fight their way through a post-apocalyptic landscape and stop a madman from unleashing a deadly virus that would kill off all life on the planet, including the oppressed zombies. The unit was led by a rather unpleasant character called Sergeant Maul, who yelled orders and insults at the player if they were doing particularly badly. Sean loaded up his saved game and continued playing – until he was killed by a shell from an unseen enemy tank.

‘Damn!’ He dropped his controller on the bed beside him and watched as the ghastly decaying face of Sergeant Maul filled the blood-soaked screen.

‘I did not give you permission to lie down, you maggot! Damn! Dying once is bad enough…’ the soldier said, his voice fading. ‘Dying twice is inexcusable.’ And then the familiar words game over appeared on the screen, sealing Sean’s failure.

He sighed and put down the controller. He was bored already. Maybe he should go back to sleep until Mum brought his soup up. Maybe when he woke the rain would have stopped and she would let him go outside for some fresh air. He wriggled under the covers and closed his eyes.

The next thing he was aware of was the sound of bombs, machine-gun fire and the screams of dying men. He opened his eyes to find that he was lying on the ground, staring up at a night sky illuminated by flashes and explosions. The noise all around him was deafening and made his head hurt. He tried putting his hands over his ears, but he couldn’t seem to move them; all he could do was lie there, wondering what on earth had happened. Then, amidst the cacophony, he heard the sound of heavy boots stomping across the ground towards him.

‘Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing, soldier? Did I say you could take a nap? Get on your feet before I tear you a new one!’ A face came into view. An angry, ugly face, almost green in colour, pockmarked, scarred and wasted. There were no lips. One eye was missing, and in places the skull beneath showed through. ‘You’re a disgrace to this platoon! I ought to stuff you into a body-bag myself and ship you back with all the other lumps of useless meat. You make me sick! You hear me? You make me sick!’

Sean opened his eyes to find himself back in bed, but the sounds were still there. Then as his senses returned to some kind of order, he realized that the noise was different. It wasn’t gunfire or the sound of exploding shells, it was the rain again, and it sounded just as insistent as before. He turned over and looked up to see the decaying, putrid face of Sergeant Maul.

‘You make me sick!’

‘Aaaaargh!’ He closed his eyes and braced himself for the next shock. He waited for what seemed like ages, shivering beneath the bedclothes, praying that when he opened his eyes again the horrible image would be gone. When he finally summoned up the courage to look again, the sergeant was nowhere to be seen.

‘Bloody hell,’ he said, gazing around the room before focusing his attention on the downpour outside. ‘I can’t take any more of this.’ He looked at the clock – almost four – then got out of bed and headed downstairs.

His mum was sitting on the sofa, a magazine on her lap, once more talking into the phone. She hung up and looked at Sean questioningly.

‘I thought I told you to stay in—’

‘I can’t,’ Sean protested. ‘I keep freaking out.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I keep seeing things… I just don’t want to stay up there. Can’t I just watch TV down here for a bit?’

‘I suppose so. At least I’ll be able to keep an eye on you. I brought your soup up earlier but you were fast asleep. I didn’t want to wake you. You can put it in the microwave when you’re ready.’

The only things on TV were boring discussion programmes, soaps and quiz shows like Brainbox, Mum’s favourite, but Sean didn’t really mind. He didn’t want to be alone in his room any more. It was having a bad effect on him. He occasionally turned to the window to see how the rain was doing; just after five it actually started to die down.

‘Looks like it might be over,’ he said.

‘Yeah, but they’ve forecast more for tomorrow,’ Mum replied, her attention on her magazine. ‘That’s when we’ll get the worst of it apparently. I hope the river can cope. It’s burst its banks before.’

‘Yeah, that’d be bad.’ But for some reason Sean actually found the idea of a flood quite exciting. And if he was off school tomorrow as well, he might be able to go and take a look. That’s if he could persuade Mum to let him out of course.

Dad arrived home shortly afterwards, and while he washed his hands in the sink, Sean filled him in on the strange vision he’d had earlier.

‘You saw me in the garden? What was I doing?’

‘Just standing there in the rain… Enjoying it from the look of things. It was like that scene in The Shawshank Redemption.’

‘Ha ha. Well, that’s not the sort of thing I’m likely to do, trust me.’

‘I know, it’s just… It was so real, you know?’

‘The brain can make you believe whatever it wants you to if it tries hard enough.’

‘Yeah, but it’s my brain. It’s me… It should do what I tell it to. It’s not some other creature.’

‘Well, sometimes it can seem like that. It can rebel, do things you don’t expect, don’t want. It’s the brain’s way of telling you that something’s going wrong, or that something has happened to it and it needs time to recover.’

‘Mmm, yeah, I suppose. I can’t believe all this is because I didn’t drink enough water.’

‘Yes, well,’ Dad said, drying his hands on a towel, ‘you’ll know better next time, won’t you? Graham said you were "severely dehydrated" and narrowly avoided heat exhaustion. People have had strokes after going through what you did.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yep. So you’d better be careful next time.’

‘Yes, he’d better,’ Mum said, coming in to check on the status of dinner.