Dean Carter - Blood Water

‘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.

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.