Paul Hardy - The Last Man on Earth Club

“I… left someone.”

“Left them where?”

“To… die. She died!”

“Your wife?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you leave her?”

“I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

“I… I made a choice.”

“You made a choice?”

“Her or me…”

“What happened?”

“I… I left her… to die… I wanted… her to die… instead of me…”

The non-spill cup dropped to the floor. His whole body arched, as though fighting against some kind of restraint. His eyes stared wide with pleading and horror. His arms slipped behind his back, and his wrists crossed as though bound together.

“Kwame?” He didn’t reply. “Kwame. Can you hear me?”

He was having a flashback. I was sure of it. I switched off the program and dialled the lighting back up. He couldn’t see the change; only the horror from years ago that he could not escape. It was pointless to try and snap him out of it. PTSD sufferers can be violent in the midst of flashbacks, depending on what they see. At length he relaxed, his arms were released from their imaginary restraint, and he seemed surprised to see the darkness gone.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You had a flashback,” I said.

“I do not remember…”

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to happen.”

“It… happens anyway.”

“I think we can help you.”

“With more of this? ”

“No. Until we know what happened, this won’t help. You need to be able to get hold of these memories when you’re awake.”

“You… still want to read my mind.”

“Yes. If you’ll let us.”

He looked down, pressing his shaking hands together. “What do you need me to do?”

“We have to calibrate the scanners to your visual cortex. There would be some tests with a neurologist. It’ll take a while to get it right.”

“Very well.”

“You’re sure?”

“I have nothing else to do.”

“Did you want to talk about the legal process, while we’re here?”

“There is no legal process. Is there?”

“Not for some time, I’m afraid.”

“Then I have nothing else to do.” He was approaching therapy with resignation; far from perfect, but better than no approach at all.

Liss had her perky face back on as she bounced into an easy chair. She’d made a special effort with her outfit today, a short dress embroidered with hundreds of pink hearts in an interlocking pattern, only slightly less alarming than the bright pink tights or the heart-cluster earrings. “Hi!”

“How are you feeling today? Better?”

“Uh-huh!”

“You’re sure you’re okay? You seemed a little stressed at the meal…”

“Oh, that’s just Olivia, you know what she’s like…”

“Nothing else? Obviously you weren’t really having a period, so I have to ask, I’m afraid.” She was on my list of suspects for the breakout — she was physically capable, given the inherent abilities of her species.

“Nope!” she shrugged with a beaming smile. Physically capable of breaking out? Certainly. Psychologically capable? Less likely. And there was virtually no chance of her having the technical skill to get past our security systems.

“I’d like to talk today about what happened at Kintrex.”

“Oh,” she said, her face falling.

“Is that okay?”

“I s’pose.”

“You had quite a reaction.”

“Guess I did. Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. But you have seemed a bit down in the mouth since then.”

She sighed massively, turning it into a pout. “They get on my nerves.”

“The others?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“I dunno.”

“I’m wondering if you’ve been feeling unhappy about what you saw at the ruins.”

She looked down at the coffee table. “Maybe. A little.”

“Why was that?”

“It was a crappy place.”

“It reminded you of something, didn’t it?”

She shook her head. “Not really.”

“That’s not what you said when you were there. You said it was a call centre. And you knew because you used to work in similar kind of place.”

“Well, maybe a bit.”

“Can you tell me about the call centre you worked at?”

“Oh, nothing special about it. Just, you know, people calling up and being annoyed and all the usual.”

“And the ruins were similar.”

“I guess.”

“I don’t think you’re telling me everything.” She looked up at me, surprised. “You were really very distressed. You threw up, remember?”

“I did?”

“Yes. You did.”

“I… guess.”

“You guess or you know?”

“I don’t know…”

“You were reminded of something. And you’ve been holding back.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t…”

“You haven’t told us everything,” I said. “Would you like to tell me now?”

“There’s nothing to tell…”

“I think you know something, Liss. I think you’re hiding it from us. I think you’re keeping a secret.”

She looked suddenly trapped and liable to panic, her hands frozen on her knees, her eyes twitching around the room.

“I think you remember more than you’re telling us.”

She fought for words. “I— I—”

“Let me tell you what I think,” I said. She looked puzzled, unsure of what to expect, almost like someone preparing to run for it. “You were working at a call centre when it happened, weren’t you?”

Her eyes went wide. Had I found her out?

“That’s why you had such a reaction to seeing the call centre at Kintrex. You were in a place like that when the world ended. Am I anywhere near the truth?”

She looked away from me and down, eyes hidden behind her hair. “Is that right, Liss?” She kept her face away from me for a few seconds more. It was an agonising moment. Even when I checked the recordings later, I could not see her eyes, or any other indication of what was going through her mind at that moment. I could only guess that she saw, then, the memory she’d been holding back from herself: the moment the world ended and every single person on her world died. Maybe even what she did afterwards.

“Liss? Are you all right?”

She looked back at me, eyes watering and chin quivering. “I— I was there… I was there when it happened…”

“Where were you, Liss?”

“The… the call centre…” Tears came down her face now.

“That was where you worked, wasn’t it?”

“Yes…”

“What about the recruitment agency?”

“I worked there before. Years ago… Then I got the job at the call centre. The… call centre…”

“Okay Liss, that’s good, we’re making progress. Do you remember any more?”

Her mouth flapped, hunting for words.

“Do you remember what happened?” I asked.

Her chin wobbled. Her eyes went wide as the memory forced itself upon her.

“They’re dead!”

I nodded, as sympathetically as I could. “I’m sorry.”

“They’re all dead! Everyone!” She was breathing hard now, panicking through tears and gasps. “Everyone! They — they burned! They glowed, and it was hot, and they fell, but it was all clothes, and, and there was ash on the floor… there was ash on the floor…”

And she wailed. A cry of horror and anguish at the unbearable memory. I held her, letting her sobs wrack into my shoulder. It’s very rare for memories to suddenly return in this way, but I had to make allowances for the strangeness of her world and her odd physiology.

“Would you like to tell me any more, Liss?”

But she was shuddering and weeping in my arms, and shook her head, hiding her eyes from me. I had two nurses escort her back to her room, and arranged for a more intensive suicide watch.