Angel's Fury (12 page)

I glanced at the box. ‘These are a fifteen; they are too old for you.’ I took a step backwards.

Shiftiness dropped over the boy’s face like a visor. ‘I’ll tell. I’ll say you were in Seth’s room doing
stuff
. That’s not allowed here.’

I blushed, betraying myself, and gritted my teeth before I said something I’d regret. Unable to speak, I shouldered past him. Reflexively Lenny bobbed his head and yelped. He sounded like a kicked dog. A blaze of anger drove me halfway back round and I burned with the impulse to really give him something to whine about. He recoiled and I froze.

What am I doing? He’s ten years old.

I turned my back on him and ran to my room with the irritating sound of his whining droning in my ears and dizziness bouncing me into the wall.

I fumbled with my key card and slammed through the door, shaking with unreasonable anger.

However, as I cleaned my teeth, tiredness dampened my rage and visions of Seth crowded my mirror. I splashed cold water on my face. It didn’t drive away my exhaustion, but it did remind me of the scene outside the pool.

Max’s words tolled in my skull: ‘
When it happens to you, you’ll understand
’.

Tomorrow I’ll have more treatments and maybe they’ll dredge up memories even worse than Zillah’s.

I leaned my forehead on the mirror and watched my breath fog the glass until I no longer recognised my reflection. Then I lay face up on the bed and tried to make my mind as blank as the mirror.

When my fingers close round the barrel they’re trembling and the sweaty metal almost slips from my hands as I yank the 98k from its place under the seat. Hoping none of the others has noticed my fumbling I swiftly swing the gun round, grip the stock, check the safety catch then pull the stripper clip from my belt. I stroke a round with my thumb before I slide it home. It’s so smooth, perfect.

Orders are called from the front of the convoy. I push the stock into my shoulder then line up the sight. I only have five shots before I have to reload, but I’ll make every one count.

I dragged myself to breakfast like a week-old corpse and opened the dining room door, feeling sick.

Throughout the night Zillah had visited my dreams over and over again. Each time I recorded the details of her death on the tape recorder; it seemed to breathe new life into her.

However, it was not Zillah who haunted me this morning. I didn’t know how the gunman had taken over the nightmare at the last, but I could not rid myself of his face.

Even now his thoughts oozed through my memories like the sludge at the bottom of an old fridge, spoiling everything they touched.

I lowered myself gingerly into my chair, shuddering with the new form the horror had taken.

Pandra dropped into the chair next to me and I had to turn my head with my hands to acknowledge her. She didn’t look nearly as bad as I did, though the effort of keeping her eyes open made them water so badly it looked like she was going to cry. She nodded at me and scrubbed her hands through her hair. ‘Should be used to this by now,’ she muttered.

A scraping sound made me turn and, when I could look, the seat across the table was occupied by Seth.

‘Morning,’ he rasped. Next to me Pandra actually growled.

I wonder what Seth did to make her hate him so much.

‘M-morning.’ I ignored Pandra and tried to remember how to speak. ‘Thanks for the DVDs.’

Seth shrugged, too exhausted to bother with a reply.

‘We need coffee.’ Raising her arm Pandra waved at a thickset lady in an apron who hurried over with a steaming pot.

Gratefully I inhaled and after the first couple of sips was able to look around more easily. While I was drinking, the younger residents had stumbled into the dining room and they too were being served coffee for breakfast, even Lenny.

My face cracked into a deep yawn and I jumped as a plate clicked on to the table in front of me.

‘Alright, love, d’you want cooked?’

‘Cooked?’

‘Cooked breakfast. Or there’s toast, cereal. What can I get you?’

My stomach turned over. ‘Toast, please.’ I looked into the face of the waitress. It was shiny with the kitchen’s heat. ‘
Dry
toast.’

She patted my shoulder sympathetically and took orders from Seth and Pandra. Seth was having cornflakes, but Pandra was having a full cooked breakfast, complete with black pudding, sausages, bacon, eggs and beans.

‘How
can
you?’

She gave a smile that looked more like a grimace. ‘Keeping my strength up.’

‘For the extra treatments?’

Pandra’s eyes flicked to Seth and her earrings glittered as she turned her head. ‘Been talking about me, have you?’

I swallowed. ‘Seth mentioned that the Doctor did extra experiments with you.’

Pandra snorted. ‘You make me sound like a guinea pig.’ She leaned back in her chair. ‘I’m making
real
progress because I don’t resist
any
of my treatments.’ Suddenly she rubbed her eyes. ‘I’ll admit the experimental stuff can be a bitch some days, but if the Doctor says it’ll help I’ll do it. She knows what’s best.’ Her rubbing smeared her kohl, further blackening the smudges under her lashes. She glared at me. ‘If you wouldn’t do the same, you shouldn’t be here.’

I looked at the treacle-dark liquid in my cup. ‘Can I ask you something? D-do you use the tape recorder for every dream? After my session the Doctor reminded me to . . . but maybe I misunderstood.’

Gently Seth touched the back of my hand. ‘Were your
dreams worse than usual last night?’

‘I thought I’d get better once I got here.’ I sipped my coffee, trying to calm my frantic heartbeat. ‘Last night was so bad I thought maybe I’d done something wrong. Like . . . perhaps you’re only supposed to record the first nightmare?’ My voice trembled pathetically.

Pandra shook her head. ‘We have to record every dream. The Doctor can’t help if she doesn’t know what you’re dreaming about, can she?’

‘But what’s the point in recording the nightmare over and over?’

Pandra tugged at the dragon on her necklace. ‘Maybe the Doctor needs to know how often you have each dream. Maybe she gets a bit more info each time.’

‘D-do you dream the same thing every night?’

Pandra looked away from me. ‘You’ve been in my room. You’ve seen what I dream about.’

I clutched my mug more tightly. ‘But . . . you’ve been here a year. What sort of progress are you making, if you still dream like that?’

Pandra’s rings knocked the table as she clenched her fists. ‘I’ll get there. Right now it’s not so much about getting rid of the
dreams as addressing my reactions to the dreams.’ She gritted her teeth. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s my treatment and I don’t want to talk about it any more.’

Seth grimaced. ‘We don’t talk about our dreams much outside the treatment area, Cass. It’s kind of our own unwritten rule. We get enough with the Doctor.’

‘Right. Sorry.’

He leaned forward then. ‘I can tell you this, though; we all arrived here with a single recurring dream, just like you.’ Pandra nodded reluctantly and he continued. ‘You already know about Kyle. The nightmare he started with was from ancient Egypt. He’s claustrophobic too.
We think
he was bricked inside a tomb.’

My skin pimpled and I rubbed my forearms.

Seth continued. ‘Everyone else’s first nightmares were from more recent lifetimes. Max . . . well he has visions of Vietnam.’

Pandra’s eyes gleamed. ‘He spilled some coffee on his hand once and went berserk.’

Seth glowered at her and she fell silent. ‘Lizzie dreams about IRA attacks in seventies Belfast. If you ever hear her speaking with an Irish accent, then you should go get help.’

My eyes widened and I looked at the younger girl. She was
giggling with Kyle like any other teenager. My gaze fell on Lenny. He was sitting slightly apart from the others, shoulders hunched. ‘What about him?’

‘Prisoner of war in Japan. A pilot. Shot down. That’s why he hates heights.’

If he dreams about the war, Lenny’s dreams must be a bit like mine.

As I dug inside for some fellow feeling I watched him stick his thumb up his nose and flick a knob of snot on to the table. It landed by Belinda’s wrist and my eye twitched. She was talking to Max and hadn’t noticed Lenny’s addition to the tableware. ‘What about Belinda?’

It was Pandra who answered. ‘The princess was in some kind of race riot.’

Seth nodded. ‘Apartheid I think. She hates crowds but, like I said, we don’t go for talking about it much. So, yeah, to answer your original question, we all started out dreaming the same thing over and over.’

I was glad I was sitting down. ‘Started out?’

He hesitated. ‘I’m pretty sure we’re all having nightmares about other people now.’

‘Since you began the treatment?’ I whispered.

Pandra’s head dipped into a curt nod and her eyebrow stud flashed.

We said nothing more until our food arrived. The toast piled on my plate looked insurmountable and the smell of Pandra’s fried food made me want to throw up. I nibbled at the corner of one crust then dropped it on my plate, defeated.

Pandra looked up with a forkful of bacon halfway to her mouth. ‘You can’t take the drugs on an empty stomach. Eat something, or the waitress’ll report you.’

‘Report me?’ I stared over at the bustling blonde.

Seth shrugged. ‘No one here is quite what they seem. Pam’s a nurse too. I expect you’ll meet her in one of today’s sessions. She’s nice enough, but the staff are here to watch us and make sure we stick to the programme.’

With a groan I lifted the toast and put it to my lips. It was like trying to chew plasterboard.

Leaving the dining hall a little while later, however, I found myself humming. It was kind of a rousing tune, which bubbled up inside my throat and wouldn’t stop.

Seth snorted. ‘You’re in a better mood.’

I nodded and continued to hum as I pushed the door open. Suddenly someone else joined in. They had a much nicer voice than I did, but the tune was the same as the one carouselling inside my head. I turned to find Kyle at my elbow. He grinned at me, his green eyes brilliant against the smudges of sleeplessness beneath. ‘Hey, man, I’ve never met anyone else who knew that one.’

‘You haven’t?’

‘Nope. Isn’t it great?’ Enthusiasm made him babble. ‘I don’t know why it isn’t played more often. How’d you hear it? There are loads of recordings of
Lohengrin
, but that extended version is rare. A friend of my music teacher’s let me hear his. It was recorded from an original performance in Bayreuth, 1936.’

My eyes widened. ‘Bayreuth . . . 1936?’

Seth caught my elbow but his touch barely registered. ‘Kyle,’ he warned.

‘Yeah, man,’ the boy continued blithely. ‘Völker just kept going – the crowd went wild. I wish I’d been there.’ Finally Kyle looked at Seth. ‘Oh, man.’ Understanding made him back away. ‘Sorry. It’s a past life, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have said anything.’ He sprinted for the stairs, a blurred figure all in black, but I barely saw him leave.

How do I have a rare version of some music I’ve never heard of in my head? It’s never been in any of my dreams.

Seth caught my shoulders, steadying me. ‘Stuff like this happens here, Cass. It’s part of the healing process, getting worse before you get better and all that.’

I shook my head frantically. My chest hurt and I started to gasp. Hands that smelled of washing-up liquid caught my cheeks. ‘She’s having a panic attack. Help me get her to a treatment room.’

Next thing I knew I was on a couch. There was an oxygen mask over my face and Seth had vanished. The nurse who’d served breakfast remained. She squeezed my hand. ‘Alright now?’

‘Seth?’ I strained my neck, looking for him.

‘He had his own treatment to go to.’ She lifted my sweat-dampened fringe from my forehead. ‘Have a rest. I’ve checked your schedule – you’ve an appointment in forty-five minutes so I’ll be back in quarter of an hour and we can go over what happened.’

‘Okay.’ I tried to let my mind go blank but poignant strains of the music continued to float through the blackness.

* * *

‘Alright, Cassie, what do you see?’

I was standing in front of a desk covered in greasy metal and polished wood. None of the shapes looked familiar. But, as I stared, an image popped into my head.

Incredulously I pointed at one of the parts. ‘Is that a gun barrel?’

The Doctor smiled. Then she folded her arms in a way that drew attention to her biceps. ‘Very good, now how do you know that?’

‘Cop shows.’ This time I had the comfort of knowing that the memory was one of my very own, of sitting with my dad in front of an old TV series.

Hah. No past lives for you there.

She frowned and I pressed my hands together, obscurely pleased to have been able to say that.

‘So, what do you think this is?’ she asked, gesturing to the table.

My pleasure fled in an uneasy rush. ‘Is it . . . bits of a gun?’ Abruptly lightheaded I leaned on the table, careful to keep my fingers away from the pieces.

‘That’s right.’ The Doctor was watching my reaction intently. ‘I’m going to ask you to do something you might find strange.’ She smirked to herself. ‘There’ll be a lot of that while you’re
staying here.’ She twitched an invisible thread from her starched collar. ‘I want you to put the weapon back together.’

‘Why?’ She might as well have asked me to plunge my arm into a nest of cockroaches. ‘I don’t want to touch that thing!’

‘Need I remind you how important cooperation with your treatment is?’ The Doctor loomed over me. ‘I was pleased that you managed to record your dreams last night, but I notice that you have yet to visit the art room, as I suggested.’

I swallowed. ‘I-I don’t see how showing you I don’t know how to put a gun together will help me get rid of my nightmares.’

A spot of crimson appeared on each of the Doctor’s cheeks and I only then realised how bleached of colour her face usually was. ‘You need to become familiar with the objects in your dreams, so that they aren’t so frightening. You have to trust me, Cassie. If I have to explain myself to you before every treatment, we aren’t going to get very far.’