No Shelter from Darkness (13 page)

“Sorry, darling. How are you feeling today?”

Beth replied with a groan. She was still coming out of her slumber.

“I've rung the hospital. I'm not going in today. I also got hold of Dr. Hawkins, who has kindly offered to make a house call.”

Another groan, though this time Beth's facial expression was clear to read.

“I know it's not much fun, but we've got to do it.” She smiled. “I'll be back up in a few minutes with some breakfast.”

From down in the kitchen, the house seemed eerily quiet. It was only Lynne and her daughter; Mary and Oliver had already left for school. The previous day she'd gotten home, trotting all the way, just as Mary and Kevin Gibson walked around the corner with Beth between them. By then she was conscious, but staggering and bewildered. She'd become so exhausted that getting up the stairs was a chore in itself. Lynne wondered now as she prepared a small plate what merit there might be in bringing Beth downstairs today. A closer proximity to the shelter seemed the only advantage, but only if there was a raid.

She decided to leave it up to Beth. She was never one to stay in the same spot if she could help it, always wanting to do something to keep moving. If she could get out of bed she would. But when Lynne brought up the plate of food, she knew there was little likelihood of seeing her daughter out of her room. She was already back fast asleep, and Lynne knew she was deteriorating quicker this time than last. By the time the doctor came, did a quick examination and took more blood, Beth didn't even have the energy to complain or make a fuss.

The next day Lynne needed to do little to convince Mary to miss Saturday morning school. She gladly complied to stay home and look after Beth, while Lynne went to the hospital. Though she wanted to stay with her daughter with every fiber of her soul, Bill's wage from the Army only went so far. It also gave her the opportunity to seek out Dr. Hawkins and enquire how far he'd gotten with Beth's blood work.

Standing in his laboratory, she was pleasantly surprised when he produced a brand new report. “I've made her my priority,” the doctor said. “Her collapse made it clear that she needs immediate attention.”

“Should she be admitted?” asked Lynne.

“There's little point. There's nothing we can do for her here that can't be done in the home. And even though these raids seem to have calmed down, I don't need to remind you how desperately we still need beds.”

“Of course, doctor.”

“I'm still having trouble finding the exact cause of her blood loss, however. The sample I took from your daughter yesterday shows some abnormalities in the cells. The RBC count is lower than the first sample, of course, but this doesn't account for the abnormalities. At first I thought it must be general degradation in the cells, but on closer inspection it appears as if the blood cells have gone through some kind of process.”

“What do you mean,
process
?”

“That's just it, Nurse Wade. I don't know. I've not seen anything quite like it.”

Lynne stared through the floor. “A new disease.”

“Possibly. But new disease or not, there's no denying the decreasing count of red blood cells. That's what we've got to put right.”

“A transfusion?”

Dr. Hawkins shook his head. “That needs to remain our last resort. She needs blood, yes, but it would be best if it were her own. We need to get Beth to produce her own blood, and liver extract has been shown to be effective in doing just that. Unlike transfusions, it's one hundred percent safe.”

“Okay. What do I do?”

“I've already prepared the treatment.” The doctor picked up a small glass vial from his worktop. It was corked and contained a slightly opaque, pale orange liquid. “It's called
Erythgen Liver Extract
.”

“To be administered intravenously?”

“That's how it is most effective.”

Lynne shook her head. “She's going to love that.”

*   *   *

Lynne held on to threads of hope that her daughter would miraculously recover from whatever this strange illness was. Those threads, however, were as frayed as her nerves. When she was at work her mind wandered inappropriately to her sick child at home, and when at home she yearned for something to take her mind elsewhere. It had been another long Monday and Lynne found herself drifting off to sleep while she sat in the dim sitting room with a pile of clothes to mend. The wireless provided a background distraction that turned into a lullaby. Upstairs, three children were fast asleep. In the morning only two would awaken. Recently, Beth only stirred when Lynne jabbed a needle into her arm, administering another dose of the liver extract. After three days, it seemed to have done little if anything at all.

Lynne was exhausted. She felt her head tip forward, making her jolt upright and open her eyes wide. It was only a few seconds before her eyes started to close once more. From the room at the top of the stairs came a dreadful thud. She awoke again. The sitting room came into focus and from the wireless came nothing but a quiet hiss of static. The stiffness in her neck suggested a nap longer than a few moments.

There was another thud, quieter than the first.

Lynne jumped up from her chair and dashed up the stairs. The door to her daughter's room was still closed, but she was sure the thuds had come from within. She gripped the handle and burst through, putting her hands up to her mouth and gasping. On the floor at her feet, was her daughter crawling toward her. Lynne was frozen at the sight. Flat on her front with her face resting on the wooden floor, Beth unsteadily lifted an arm and it flopped back down ahead of her, with her fingers like claws. Her other arm did the same, and with a weak grip she pulled herself along. But it was pathetic. She moved only a few inches before the strain was too much and her body demanded she rest for a few seconds, before the whole process was repeated. She seemed oblivious to Lynne's presence. A mindless animal with no strength.

Mary's door opened, and Lynne held back the outburst of tears she felt coming on. Together they went in and took an arm each, bringing Beth gently to her feet and back into the bed. Her eyes were closed, but her lips moved slightly as if trying to say something.

“I'm here, darling,” Lynne said with a voice set to break. She picked up the glass of water on the bedside table and tipped it slightly to her daughter's dry lips. Beth took a couple of sips, seeming to take the water down. But then she coughed and her head slumped to the side, and she returned to her semi-comatose state.

*   *   *

The next morning Lynne stood at the front window, tapping her teeth with her fingernail. She heard a car coming up the street, and knew it could only be the doctor. He pulled up outside the house. Lynne was at the door before he'd even got out of his car.

“Thank you so much for coming so soon,” said Lynne, voice quivering. Dr. Hawkins stepped quickly into the house, his large leather bag in his hand.

Once in Beth's bedroom he started to unpack the apparatus, starting with a coil of tubing. “Before we do this, Nurse Wade—”

“Lynne,” she said. Her nurse's title seemed out of place here.

“Lynne,” the doctor corrected, “I have to make sure you understand that while I am ninety-nine percent sure that Beth's blood group is type AB, there are still some abnormalities with her RBCs that may affect her body's acceptance of the donor blood.”

Lynne nodded her head while clutching the collar of her blouse and trying to keep her tears back. “Is there anything I can do, doctor?”

“No. Just be here for your daughter.”

Lynne went to the dresser for the stool, catching her haggard reflection. Having no time for self-pity, she moved the rickety stool to the other side of Beth's bed and sat down next to her, clasping her hand within her own. Dr. Hawkins stood on the other side, assembling shining metal contraptions to glass bottles and plastic tubing. He took from his bag the last piece of the puzzle: a bottle of blood.

“I just want to assure you I've taken every precaution with the preparation of this blood. There is every chance of success.”

“Thank you,” croaked Lynne.

Dr. Hawkins prepared Beth's arm by sticking a thick needle into the underside of it. She didn't even stir.

“I have 100cc here. Normally transfusions are of around 350cc, but I want to do this nice and slow, bit by bit, in case of any rejection. If, by tomorrow, there's been no adverse reaction, I'll give her another 100cc, and we'll continue like that over four days. Okay?” Lynne nodded. The doctor connected the tube to the needle in Beth's arm and removed the clip.

Gravity did the rest.

For the thirty minutes it took for the blood to drain into Beth's arm, Hawkins stayed to monitor. Lynne held Beth's hand and for the whole time the room was silent. There was nothing to say, and everything to hope for.

“I'm happy for now,” said the doctor as he packed his things away. “Monitor her closely. At the first sign of seizure or fitting, call me immediately. Otherwise I'll come back tomorrow at the same time.”

“Thank you so much … again.”

Dr. Hawkins paused and smiled at Lynne. “We'll get her well again. I'll do everything I can to ensure that.”

Lynne gave a weak smile back, then turned to her daughter, bringing her hand to her chest before kissing it.

“I'll see myself out.” The doctor put on his hat and left the room. As the front door closed, a tear fell from Lynne's cheek onto the white sheet.

THIRTEEN

BETH OPENED HER EYES.
Her room was filled with light and when she sat up, a bright summer sun cast the dark shadow of her shoulders and head against the wall. She looked down at her forearm and scratched at a peculiar red spot that wouldn't go away.

Sweeping aside the thick heap of sheets and blankets, she swung her legs off the edge of the bed and steadily got to her feet. She warily stepped in front of the mirror, but any fear of what she might find in the reflection soon vanished. The color had returned to her unblemished skin; in the sunlight her nightgown was a dazzling white. It almost glowed. And aside from the nagging itch of that red dot on her arm, all traces of injury or illness were gone.

She looked … pretty.

It was the first time she'd ever noticed.

Through her door, the darkened landing was lit only by the light from her room; all the other doors in the house were shut. She felt closed off, somehow unwanted.

No, not unwanted. Something else.

There's no sound.

There was a complete absence of noise of any kind.

“Mum?”

Her voice was unrestrained, but it sounded distant. And it echoed.

“Ollie?”

There were no answers to her calls. She looked back into her room. Her window was half open, but no sound came through it. There were no birds chirping, no children playing. Not even the rustling of leaves from a gentle summer breeze, drifting around the wind trap
triangle of the backyards. The silence outside reflected the silence inside. The house was deserted, the rest of the world along with it. Beth was alone.

Abandoned.

Downstairs she found every room empty, every cupboard lacking. Barefoot, she went out the front of her home, into the deserted road, and down the middle to the junction with Royston Street. From there she could see all the way to the end, to the tiny terraced housing facing her on Bonner Street.

But not a soul walked in between.

She went to the nearest house and started knocking, disrupting the awful silence. But as soon as she stopped the emptiness returned. Her throat was drying up. Her breathing had quickened and a cold prickly sweat ran down her spine as she backed away.

Beth instinctively looked up to the heavens and thought about praying, but inside she felt that no god would hear her.

Then something caught her eye.

Movement.

She looked to the south. In the distance, in stark contrast with the pale blue sky, was a mysterious black spot.

It appeared to fall very slowly.
Is it falling at all?
She realized that in the few minutes she'd been staring up at it, it had grown. It was no longer a pinprick in the sky, but a dot with two lines sticking out to the side. And then she heard the faint, rumbling low hum of a plane.

She looked away, up her street and back down. She was expecting the sirens to start wailing, but there was nothing but the horrible drone that got louder with every passing second.

If there's no alarm, the plane must be friendly.

Beth looked back up and gasped at how big the dot had become. She could see clearly now the bulk of the fuselage and the wings jutting out to the sides. She knew then that it was a Spitfire, but it kept getting larger. Beth cocked her head. There was something wrong. It didn't move in the sky, it only grew. The Spitfire was flying directly toward her.

And the deep drone was getting louder.

Beth took a step back. Then another. She slowly walked backward up her street. At any moment she was expecting the plane to begin
pulling up. But it didn't and was now close enough to make out the circular blur traced by the spinning propeller.

Beth turned and ran. She kept glancing back over her shoulder, watching the plane with no pilot fly relentlessly toward her as its engine became deafening. Between it and Moravian Street stood only the closed Globe Street School, with its small spire on one corner that poked up into the sky. It was the only thing that might stop it, but the chances were not good.

She ran toward the junction with Cyprus Street, but impossibly it was just as far away now as it had been to begin with.
How can that be?
She ran harder, leaning forward. Her legs felt heavy like lead and her goal came no nearer.

The noise of the plane made the ground tremble. With tears in her eyes, Beth was afraid to look back, but she had to and saw the hulking mass of metal bear down on her. Its right wing clipped the spire of the school, sending tiles and mortar flying through the air. The collision caused the plane to spin, and while the damaged right wing lifted into the air, the left one narrowly missed the roof of the houses that lined Moravian Street. But then its tip exploded into bright, fiery yellow sparks as it dug into the road. The screech of metal shattered windows and the nose of the plane dove forward and into the ground.