“What’s going on up here?” The taxi driver cursed. “Been sitting here for a bloody age.”
Adam looked past at the red lights ahead. What he had presumed to be roadworks seemed to be nothing of the sort. He could see no construction signs or vehicles. For the first time he noticed an ambulance parked over at the side of the road near the park, it’s lights off. Two police cars on the other side of the road.
“Looks like an accident,” he replied.
“Funny place to have an accident.”
Adam returned the card, unopened, to his inner jacket pocket and refocused his attention on the taxi meter, suddenly aware that it would not have stopped just because they were held up. He didn’t even know how long they had been held up for, after letting himself drift off again.
I keep doing that.
He had seized a memory and committed to it. Reliving it in almost realtime. One that he had almost forgotten. There was more to it, but there was something more pressing. If he didn’t leave this taxi now his fare would be astronomical.
“Can you just let me off here?” He wrapped his fingers around the chair that was on the seat at his side. He didn’t relish the job of walking. The combination of the lateness of the hour, the fatigue he felt from being on the prosthetics so long and the fact that, although he was sure he was beside the Park, he still didn’t recognise the buildings on the other side of the road. His apartment block was at one side, the Flats were on the other. That meant two sides out of four of the quad that the park comprised of were recognisable immediately. Yet they had passed two sides, and he hadn’t seen anything remotely familiar about the buildings that the taxi had driven past. He put that down to fatigue as well, and the fact that he hadn’t exactly been paying great attention. Once he got out of the vehicle and looked up, he was sure that he would be able to get his bearings easily enough.
The taxi driver turned the inane commentary down and punched a few buttons below the fare. Adam winced as the figure jumped up a few digits, and produced his credit card from his pocket, once again wondering why the hell he had consented to go to the damn exhibition.
Perhaps you felt that you owed it.
To who? Trent?
Perhaps you felt that you could empathise with how he was before -
“Cheers pal,” the driver said as Adam scanned his card, waiting a few moments before nodding. “That’s gone through okay, are you needing a receipt?” The tonal shift in his voice indicated that he preferred Adam answer in the negative.
“No, you’re fine. Thank you.” He swung his aching limps around as he opened the passenger side door. He didn’t look for traffic as he was sure there was nothing coming the other way. The entire road was brought to a standstill in both directions.
“Probably quicker walking. I’ll still bloody be here tomorrow. It’s not like I don’t have other fares to pick up. It’s going to be a long fucking night at this rate for absolute fu -“
Adam shut the door on the ceaseless diatribe and walked his way jerkily over to the pavement beside the high wrought iron railings that bordered the Park. He leaned agains the waist high wall from which the railing protruded for a moment and got his bearings, looking up and over the high treelike, to see if he could see anything familiar. There it was, the upper floors of his building. Seemingly on the other side of the park, with meant that…
The Flats towered over him from across the road. The brutalist toothy construction rendered a pale blazing orange by that same light that reflected from the low clouds. There were few lights on in the barred up windows, and the large gate that lead into the parking compound seemed to be closed. There was no movement anywhere, neither inside the compound (as he was apt to describe it) or anywhere else. The only sound that could be heard was the choir of idol engines, the line of traffic that separated him from the imposing building.
I don’t want to linger here. I need to get home.
He contemplated walking but even the small act of walking around the vehicle to the pavement was agony and causing him to become dizzy. He would have no choice.
Perched on the small wall, he placed the chair on the ground and enacted what he had done so all those hours ago in his apartment in order to open the damn thing. At first, he thought it had jammed shut again, before he remembered that there was an additional catch besides the main one, a smaller one halfway down. Chair open, he brought it close to him and recognised that the next part may be difficult. He thought about asking the taxi driver for help, but when he glanced up at the line of cars, he couldn’t see the vehicle that he had emerged from. The line must have moved along, despite him not hearing any change in the monotonous droning of engines.
“Fuck it,” he breathed. He leant down and forced the breaks on the chair so it wouldn’t roll as he shifted his weight into it and then, in one well practiced but less actioned move, he lowered himself in, keeping one hand on the wall and the other on the chair. Apart from one brief moment where he felt he was going o over-balance, he exhaled a sigh of relief and settled himself in. The prosthetics themselves were easy enough to remove, with the most difficult bit rolling up his trouser legs enough so he could detach them. His skin tingled, and he glanced once more at the line of idling vehicles, expecting to see pale oval faces pressed against dark glass, all eyes on him as though he were some kind of circus attraction. Yet there was nothing but blackness, the occupants of the vehicles hidden from sight. He looked behind up towards the Flats, yet similarly darkened and otherwise empty windows stared obstinately down on him.
Each limb was placed over head and behind his back, stored in the large pouches at the rear of the seat, and it was left to Adam to pin his trouser legs up. He cursed, realising he could do no more than fold them underneath his thighs and hope that the now surplus material wouldn’t come undone and fall forward as he was moving.
Sweating again with exertion, he began to push himself along the pavement. He passed by a large gate - one of the entrances to the Park - but there was no way that he was going to go back that route. It was bad enough in daylight hours. Instead, he moved towards the front of the queue of cars
yet still no sign of this damn taxi, where did he go
to where the ambulance was situated. He could see no-one standing about. No police, no onlookers, no paramedics, and there was no sight nor sound of any activity. The ambulance was parked at an angle over the pavement, the front of it right against the wall and railings. He wouldn’t be able to get past that way, and instead wheeled himself towards the rear of the vehicle, only to find it jutting out over the road. From just inside the back cab, stretched across the road, was a line of police tape advising him not to cross, not that he would be able to go that way even if he wanted to. The far lane and opposite pavement was taken up by parked police vehicles, both of which took up the road and pavement as far up to the large pale wall of the Flats. I between, beyond the tape, was a snarl up of machinery. Pieces were strewn across the road, and there appeared to be at least two cars involved in the accident, one of which was on it’s roof, the interior hidden in shadow. The accident must have happened recently, as nothing had been done to clear the way, yet long enough ago so that any victims caught up in it had been spirited away to A&E
or the mortuary
leaving no trace.
Yet that didn’t add up. Why was the ambulance still here, and where had the police got to? The far side of the conflagration of shattered machinery was taken up by a large fire engine, blocking the road from the other side. Beyond that, Adam could see more car headlights, pointing towards him on the other side of the road, and hear more idling engines.
The unseen driver of the car beside him, at the front of the queue, suddenly slammed their hand down hard on the horn, causing a loud wail to bleat out into the night air, surprising Adam to the extent that he nearly lost balance on the chair. He wheeled himself around, angrily looking towards the car, trying to see who it was so he couldn’t give him or or a piece of his mind. He didn’t see what good blasting the horn would do, and they must have seen him sitting there not too far away. Unless they were directing it to him, in which case he would very much like to give whoever it was a bit of a talking to.
He wheeled himself along until he was level with the car and starting knocking on the driver side door, then window.
“Did you not fucking see me there?” He shouted as he knocked. Again.
The driver of the car was still in shadow, and didn’t seem to relish the prospect of having a discussion with the angry man in the wheelchair. No window was rolled down, nor door opened.
Adam slammed the flat of his hand against the glass
I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, you need to calm down”
and pushed himself back along the pavement in the other direction, following the line of cars past the entrance. He would need to go around the other way instead.
The corner of the Park was approaching, the queue of cars now so long that they stretched this far back and left through the junction, spanning presumably a large portion of the other side as well. That didn’t matter to him, until he was about one hundred yards from the corner, where he stopped.
“You have to be fucking kidding me.”
Three traffic cones blocked his way. Not a massive problem in themselves, but what lay beyond them was. The entire pavement had ben dug up, out into the road and almost as far as where the nearest car sat idling. He could peer down into the hole and see a large green plastic tube, informing him that it was presumably power or telecommunications work being undertaken and left unfinished that day. There would be no way that he could get through that. The space between the works and the large SUV was possibly wide enough so that he could have squeezed by if he was walking, but there wasn’t a chance in the chair.
He looked towards the front of the SUV - a large boorish looking thing, the types driven by those who never ventured out the confines of the city but felt the size of the car directly conferred their wealth and status to all around - to see if there was a chance that he could squeeze between that and the smaller vehicle on front. Sighing, he realise that there was no room. He could, he knew speak to the occupant and see if he could reverse but even from where he sat, he noticed that the car behind the SUV was almost nose to bumper. The other issue was the height of the kerb. At nearly a foot, with a deep stone gutter between it and the road, there was absolutely no way that he would actually make it down to the road in the first place, not if he wanted to remain on his chair.
I should never have left my apartment.
Easy enough to think in hindsight.
Bloody Iris fucking Fleet.
Was also easy to think after the fact. She only wanted what was best for him. There had been a time in the recent past that she had been a veritable beacon of light. The only tangible contact with the future she knew that he was capable of achieving, and the past that had been swallowed by an ever widening gyre of darkness. She had been there when he had been otherwise alone, helping to push him, to build him back up. He hadn’t been tolerant. Hadn’t always been grateful and yet.
She was just doing her job.
Probably. Then again, he was here because of her and right then, he would have cursed her regardless.
He wheeled himself back. Towards the gate. There was no choice. He couldn’t waste more time figuring out how to get around. This traffic was unreal, and everything seemed to be conspiring against him, yet none of that was new. It left the labyrinthian Park to navigate through at night. There were lamp-posts, but spaced infrequently. He wasn’t even sure how many - if any - were working, as he couldn’t see any iliumination from inside.
He drew level with the gate, and for one fleeting moment he thought that it would be locked. That would decide it, and he would just be forced to sit and wait on the pavement
opposite the Flats
until the ambulance had gone so he could get past.
Perhaps you should do that anyway.
Still no sign of life. No staff from the ambulance, no police. Nothing. The throbbing of engines was all that hit his senses.
He pushed the wrought iron gate and it cried open like a trapped animal. Beyond was darkness, but not entirely. A single lamppost far down on the right, past the tennis courts. The courts themselves were clear, and all he had to do was navigate through the turnstile, that for some unknown reason had been installed this side. Perhaps the courts used to be paid usage. There was a small building on the short side of them that looked like it could have once been a payment booth. Nevertheless, there was no turnstile on the far side, and this was all that was left.
He was about to curse and give up, forced to return, when he noticed something beside the turnstile. He hadn’t seen it because it had been so overgrown with vegetation, more of the Devil’s Ivy wrapping itself around like fingers of the earth. A gate. Access for mobility impaired even a consideration back then. He was simultaneously buoyed and dismayed. If it would open, then there was no reason to go back, and right then, he was looking for a reason. Any reason, that meant he wouldn’t have to be forced through the Park.
Despite the overgrowth, the smaller gate swung back with a lesser cry, and moments later he was pushing himself across the open tennis courts. He had never felt more exposed, so many eyes on him. The Flats behind him were still overbearingly looking down upon him and now he had to contend with the fact that the vegetation on the far side could house a hundred eyes. Unblinking, recessed deep within simian or insect-like heads. He recalled his last visit. Days ago. Or was it weeks ago? He couldn’t recall exactly, yet the nature of what had forced him to flee in a panic was rearing itself in his memories like a black wave. No doubt just kids. Teenagers. Messing about. Trying to scare him. Nonetheless, in his minds eye they were shadows. Shapeless and oozing malicious intent.
Far side of the courts now. The going had been easy across the smooth surface, yet now he was moving down one of the small paths. He tried to recall what route he had taken that day, the route that took him home. Even if he could remember, it was no use now. Nothing looked familiar beyond the courts and -
There came a low growl off to his right. Deep in the undergrowth beyond the railing. The light did nothing to penetrate the tangle of gloom and foliage. He stopped, hands gripping the wheels of his chair, sweat pouring from his skin. It was so hot. So humid. Just like last time. The tangle of greenery and overhead branches creating an almost tropical greenhouse effect, despite the temperature out on the street being no more than twelve or thirteen celsius. This was like being in a tropical climate
where there are tigers
instead of a temperate zone.
His eyes scanned the darkness, searching for anything that could be construed as movement. Anything that could denote that there was someone, or something out there behind the ivy covered rails. Something brushed his neck, causing him to snap back, and turn around sharply. He expected to see something long and lurid hanging from the boughs overhead. Something unimaginable with elongated limbs and a face caught in a silent scream, fangs bared.
A lone tendril of Ivy.
I’ve done this before.
Another growl from the other side. This time there was movement in the undergrowth as something large moved swiftly out of sight. He thought he caught a glimpse of something strong and sleek, matted fur.
He pushed himself onwards, the uneven path making progress slow, More than once when he stopped to look round he caught sight of a shadow dancing just in his periphery. As though evrytime he looked there was something just moving out of sight. He remembered again the shadowy figures that had approached him from the flats.
Closer now to the other side. How much time he had spent in there he couldn’t know, yet his arms ached with the exertion, and his clothes stuck to him. The extra weight of his prosthetics, despite being vaulted as the latest lightweight technology, were making progress slow, and more than once he had to stop to pull one of his trouser legs free from where it had come loose from under him and became snarled up in the wheels.
Just keep going. Fuck this place.
Junctions. Paths. Choices.
The heat was cloying. Unbearable. Yet he pushed himself on. Every so often his punctuated by
tigers
something moving in the undergrowth. Figures lurched in his periphery constantly. More and more activity as he moved. Laughter pealed out somewhere far beyond where he was. The sounds of drunken revelry of the night inhabitants of the park. The ones who where following him, or others. He knew the Park was dangerous, mores at night. He heard these same noises from his apartment when trying to sleep. Female cries of ecstasy or pain, angry male shouts, challenges, mockery. The police never came in here. The closest they had ever been was the road accident back out on the road. That was, in fact, the first time he had seen a police car in the vicinity in the years he had been there.
He could see his building. Above the trees ahead. He thought, in fact, he could even see light from the street that ran out front. He was nearly there.
Something emerged from the darkness on to the path. Blocking his progress. Eyes like collapsed stars above a row of glittering teeth.
It slunk low.
And growled.
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