Pearced (24 page)

I lay him on the floor, and as I readjust and re-wrap my parka around his naked body to try to keep him warm.  It’s then I notice it, coming out of my muzzy feeling at the drugs in the steam leave my system, my mind becoming sharper, the voices still and I can focus.   Daniel has another tattoo on his body.  Up his left ribcage from the hipbone to almost level with his elbow still red welted and swollen.  A fine black inked piece of Gothic imagery and mystical looking symbols and hieroglyphs, with the central icon.  A large eagle with huge wings spread wide, perfect intricate detail, large talons gripping a shipwreck, its sails all ripped and torn, its wooden planks smashed in places.  Daniels breathing begins to get deeper, and a faded colour returns to his skin, I wrap him around with olive drab khaki, with the warm lining still zipped in, and hold him in my arms.

Its then I notice the remote is still in my hand, desperate not to lose the ability to escape I must  grip it with all my strength determined not to let it go, it might be the only way out of here.  There’s still no signal on my phone, I put it away for the hundredth time.  How much time was passing....maybe twenty minutes before it occurred to me to experiment with this hand held science fiction device.   I hadn't noticed before but I was always a little heavy at one end, weighted at the top too much to be just a TV remote.  Idly I press the ship icon and just like the outside door to this place, the tiles in the wall and floor in the far corner start to crack apart, collect together and disappear, three angles of sectioned ceramic tile sliding neatly under the floor, all lit strongly from behind fading away as the tiles return in place.  

There is now a massive dark hole in the corner wall and floor.
A loud motor starts in the dark and I am transfixed, and gliding out from the gloom comes a beautifully shiny and restored 1968 black Ford Mustang, with dark tea coloured leather seats.  Old Blackie!   I take a sharp breath and my hand flies to my mouth. It’s just how I pictured it.  The colour has almost returned to Daniels face and I stroke his hair. “It’s going to be OK babe, I’m here now.”  He begins stirring as if just coming out of a sleep.

“God Daniel, that’s my car, Old fucking Blackie!” I laugh.

“I’m hungry” he manages,

I laugh, suddenly realising I hadn’t eaten either, “me too,” I stroke his hair from his face, he's so beautiful, “and tea too.”

“I thought I’d never see you again,”   he mumbles in half consciousness eyes still closed. “I thought you’d gone.” He looks hurt, in agony, his face pinched and he winces in pain at the thought. “Did you leave? I thought...” he shakes his head “I thought you’d gone.” he’s not making any sense, must be the aerosolised drugs in his system.

“Stop thinking a moment, I’m here.” I whisper to him close to his ear, kissing the shell of his lobe and I suddenly connect with him again.  My whole body spasms awake. “We need to get out of here Daniel.”

He speaks without opening his eyes, “what's happened?” He slurs his speech and mumbles.

“Shhh now, you've had a sedative Daniel, your brain won’t be working properly yet.” I look down into his clear pale gooseberry eyes, so handsome, I have missed him deeply. His mouth curls up is a beautiful weak half smile.

Laying his head gently on the floor I can’t help wanting to see this car, “this is my car”, I giggle, “These plates are my plates!”

How did this happen?  My head is now swimming with chattering self-inflicted questioning, it starts to hurt, I need tea.  I check my phone, the field security cameras cover the driveway, I will be able to see it if it’s there.   

No signal. Damn. I snap the elastic around my wrist. Stop it!

That's better.

As I look up I notice an outline crack of light large enough to be a garage door.   I go into the darkness of the inside and the space illuminates instantly, it's a fully stocked garage with tall red metal boxes on wheels containing many narrow drawers.

Undoubtedly filled with mechanics tools all neatly arranged and wiped clean.   There's another car in there, Daniels Range Rover all clean and shiny except for a smashed driver’s side window and a deep gouge in its door.  On the driver seat is Daniels phone, I grab it and rush back into the room.  There is a double door at the far end and I open it using the remote with the key icon.   A gentle sloping concrete driveway is revealed and I quickly decide to get Daniel in my car and drive us to the outside world.  Into the wonderful daylight, everything is better in the daylight. Ain’t that the truth?

Far and near and low and louder,

On the roads of earth go by,

Deep breaths everyone. Except Mr Housman of course.

I open the passenger door, and as I get to Daniel is semi-conscious. I grab him round his waist, “help me Daniel, we've got to get out of here, right now!” I really need a cuppa.

“I’m naked.” a question rather than a statement.

“Yes I noticed” smiling, “and very nice it is too,” I attempt a jest.
“Is this my house?” his eyes partly open...”my other house?” He is straining to look around.

“No Daniel, this is some kind of spooky secret prison,” I am supporting most of his weight, “and you’ve been in here I suspect for three days, since Tokyo.” 

I am out of breath, I pull him into the seat, wrap and button the parka, strap him in with the seatbelt, not inertia reel, it’s too old for that.  Something about its refurbishments have been kept as close to the original version as a homage to its creator, and some things have been modified, it's like Captain Kirk dressed as a cowboy in an old wild west episode! It's just as I would have done it.  The nylon herringboned strap needs adjusting to fit.   I shut the door and get in.   Keys, I don’t have keys.

“Remote.” Daniel whispers, clearly using all his energy to keep awake. Worth a try I think, I point the sensor at the steering wheel and press the key button again, and my beautifully restored Mustang purrs to life with a throaty rumble, I rev the engine, it growls, nice. You have got to be kidding me! Who is this man? Old Blackie, indeed.  “Happy birthday Tharie” His face alight and happy, but still he can only whisper, and his eyes shut again.  Shaking my head in wonderment, I jam my foot on the accelerator too hard, wheel spin and shoot up the ramp.   It’s longer than I realised but the sunlight and the street aren't far in front. This car is gorgeous, and its humming growl sounds and feels a perfect pitch and vibration, and the leather smells new. 

As we get halfway up the signal in our phones and the car kit come to life and Stan is instantly on speaker phone, “thank Christ, you’re there!”  He said momentarily forgetting his professional usual demeanour. “I have you on GPS, I’m swinging the car round to meet you, follow me Daniel are you driving?”

“No Stan, it’s me, but don’t worry I can drive, and this is my god-damned car!” I still can’t believe it.  Sailing over the ramp end into the deserted street, and steered into the inevitable skid at the road end, take control and drive straight in a classic Starskey and Hutch  manoeuvre, deep calming breaths.   Look in the rear-view, no one is following us, I calm down, slow down. 

“Miss Charles, is that you?” The voice comes over the speakers, I suddenly miss Slipknot.

“Tharie Stan, call me Tharie, yes it’s me, I can see you ahead, just hang on.” I change gear, the synchromesh of its new gearbox is behaving beautifully and the ride is smooth and I almost forget the beautiful man sitting next to me.   Almost too late I slow down behind Daniels black car, Stan takes off at speed and I follow.  Daniel is now fully conscious, I have opened the windows to let the fresh air in and help unclog his mind. 

Drugged, can you believe it? I say to myself. What the fuck is going on?

Suddenly remembering, I shove the clothes at Daniel I had grabbed from the wardrobe before leaving.  Without hesitation Daniel unclips himself from the confines of the seatbelt that held him firmly in place and moves to the back seat where he gets dressed.  He hasn’t said a word.

I’m concentrating on my driving. Stan steers like a professional driver and drives very quick, I’m an advanced driver myself, so I’m excited by the speed and keep up. Plus driving this car, my car, I’ve always wondered how it would feel if it ever got finished, and the power and vibration is incredible.

I always did like horse-power eh?

The dashboard lights up and beeps, an incoming call alert, I say hello, and my car answers the call for me, connecting me to the caller through speakers in the window frame.  “Tharie, it’s Stan, I’m pulling into Danny’s driveway, keep close to my bumper, it’s a concealed entrance.”   He sounds like he’s imparting a secret, of course it’s hidden, its Wayne bloody Manor.

“Not a surprise there Stan, I’ll follow you in,” it's like I’m driving Bruce Wayne!    As it turns out it is a surprise, Stan obviously has a remote like mine and as we head toward a row of trees.  He just drives straight through the branches, they are fake, and soft like feathers as we push through, and down a ramp not unlike the one we just escaped from, into a friendly looking version of the clean rubber painted room.   The walls are pale grey and the whole place is lit.

Both engines switch off and three confused but in-control people step out and meet half way between the two vehicles.  I’ve never seen Stan casual, and watching him with his hands thrust into his pockets, weight favouring one leg, confidence in a tricky situation.  Clearly he is used to thinking on his feet, not just a regular chauffeur, another thing that’s not how it seems. Bet he went to Pony Club too eh?

“Are you both OK?” Stan speaks first, his obvious concern for his boss Daniel

My brain thinks randomly as a response, “I’ll have a one-way for the 96 to Romford please,” I naturally keep my travel plans to myself, don’t want them to think I’m odd, there’s enough time for that later!

“Let’s get inside Daniel finally speaks, we’ll put the kettle on.”  Yes, that’s the ticket alright, I am falling in love with this man.  Bloody hell. What do I tell Mum? Bloody hell.

Did someone say
tea
?

Chapter fifteen, yes, it's still Sunday
:
27thoctober2013, the mystery

Sitting for the first time in Daniels place, in a hygienic sparse and very Daniel kitchen, we watch as Daniel goes through the mechanics of making tea.  A calming ritual for him too. We all take comfort in its routine.  “I feel a little strange, have I been dosed?” he asks.  I suddenly think of honey cake and honeysuckle tea, weird, even for me. Must be lack of sleep, yes, that’s it alright.  Daniel places three white  cups on the worktop and spins the handles round so they all face exactly the same angle toward him, and they sit equidistant waiting for hot brown liquid. None of us take sugar.

My last dreg of battery, I make a contact.

TC: “Daniel is back” don’t ask me what’s happened.

PF: “Fuck sake, what happened?” Well, she’s only human.

TC: “He was at the office” not a lie but not exactly the truth either.

PF: “OK, you can’t tell me, I get it, call me later” she’s good.

PF: “Oh, and Tharie, I’d make a great detective, no question” here we go again.

TC: “You’d be
my
plucky sidekick” every time.

PF: “The one with all the brains, agree” the nerd with a magnifying glass.

TC: “I’d have the cool car and wear the dark sunglasses” yep, that sounds like me.

PF: “There’s no way your car is cooler than mine” kidding?

TC: “How many bales of hay can you get in your boot?” Always the same lines of dialogue.

PF: “None, but it does go very fast” true story, and thankfully it has great brakes too.

TC: “And can you tow a harrow?” Always practical.

PF: “Why would I want to? Babes, happy Daniel is OK, call me” true, as long as there’s room for a pair of Gucci shoes and some
shopping from Hermes, job done. I decide neither of us are going to win this.

I really hope her prediction is right, is he OK?

...and, no question my car is cooler than hers, she's not seen the Mustang yet.

Stan leans on the edge of the counter
top, “you’ve had a mild sedative introduced to your system via breathable air,” he checks his phone at a vibration alert.  “Keeping you sedated and happily unconscious for the past three days.” Stan says matter of factly, looking up at him eyebrows raised. I don’t understand how they can be so calm, it’s weird.   You’ve been in the white room this whole time,” Stan shifts his weight looking across at me “Tharie found you.” Is he guilty for not finding Daniel himself?

'Click'

Daniel looks at me warmly and smiles a little.  The boiling water is poured into the matte black teapot and the lid placed on top carefully.  I am relieved, there’s a tea pot, so many people in a crisis or a hurry even would be tempted to resort to putting bags in the cup, but not Daniel, we need a proper cup, it’s calming.  We watch him as our thoughts catch up with our experience, as is often the case when one has had a mild shock. I should know, the number of times I’ve fallen off.

“Three days.”  Daniel is deep in thought, “why, how big is this one?” He swirls the tea around the bowl of the fat bellied pot. And winces at an obvious pain in his side, perhaps he doesn’t know yet.