The Painting (8 page)

Donny squeezed his eyelids together and pictured it. The painting seemed so long ago but it was just as clear as ever in his mind’s eye. “There were six trees, aut—”

“What sort of trees?”

“Um, oak, I guess.”

“Are you absolutely sure they were oak trees and there were six of them?”

“Does it matter?”

Reginald’s wide eyes burned into Donny’s. “If you want my help, it matters.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they were oak. There was… there was long, green grass. No—it was yellowing. It looked dry; void of life. And…” He held his eyes tighter together and tried to picture the intricacies of the painting. “There was a fence. A tiny fence. I think the artist must’ve been at some sort of house because—because of the shadowing on the grass in front.”

Reginald sighed. “What about the figures?”

Tap tap tap.

Donny opened his eyes, the skin on his arms tingling. “Did I mention the figures?”

“Donny,” Reginald said. “There are always figures.”

Donny gulped. “Well, there were six of them. Six silhouetted figures. But then… when the boys appeared in the house—the little boys—the number of figures changed. There were… there were three figures and three boys.”

Reginald’s eyes twinkled. “The boys appeared in the house?”

“Yeah, they… it was as if they were tormenting me. Messing around with my head, or trying to get me to see something. I don’t know.”

Reginald scratched his beard, flakes of dandruff snowing towards the carpet. “Right. Right, that does change things.”

“Is—is it a problem?”

“No,” Reginald said, raising his arm. “No, it isn’t a problem. In fact, it should be exactly the opposite. If reality was beginning to merge between the gaps, then it means you have a stronger chance of getting back.”

Donny nodded, acknowledging the words but barely understanding them. “Who were the boys?”

Reginald’s eyelids twitched. “They’re… they’re linked to the figures. Nobody knows who the figures are, but they are always there, and they manifest in different ways. Our governments deny they exist. We call them The Watching.”

We’rewatchingwe’rewatchingwe’rewatching.

“Are they the ones responsible for the gaps?”

Reginald shifted up from his chair, scratching the back of his neck. “We just know that they’re watching. Are you ready?”

“Ready?”

Reginald grabbed his green raincoat from the hook beside the doorway. He picked up a jumper by his side and tossed it over to Donny, the dust clouding around him as it landed in his hands. “I believe I know of the place in the painting. I can take you as far as the edge of the woods, and then you’re on your own from there.”

Donny looked down at the jumper, wide-eyed.
He was helping him?

“You’re going to have to wear that. If a guard approaches us, you stay silent and you let me talk. If a guard asks to see your chip, you tell him you’re a second-gen.”

“Second-gen?”

“Some people have bad reactions to the chip. Made them exempt from… Oh, does it matter? Just get your jumper on and follow me.”

Donny fumbled with the dusty grey jumper and pulled it over his neck, the material itching his skin as it bagged around his arms. He stood up and walked over to the door.

Reginald held his hand out and stopped him. “Oh, and if they tell you to surrender, you run. Even if they shoot you right there, it’s better than the ordeal they’ll put you through if they catch you.”

Donny nodded in acknowledgement. “Thank you, for—”

“I didn’t help you. I never met you. You’re just a… a state of mind that helped me get over my wife. Now, let’s get you back to your girlfriend so you can hide that ring under the cushion after all.” He opened the door and the bright light from outside filled the hallway.

Donny took a final look around the lounge area—the fireplace, crackling away, the indented leather sofa where the Lynchian Alsation dog had sat, the photographs on the wall of Reginald and Manny Bates.

“Do I get to say goodbye to Yelp?”

Reginald shook his head. “From this moment onwards, you never met Alice, okay? It’s just you. The more people that know about you, the worse. Keep her quiet. Okay? She loves that dog. Don’t do anything to compromise it.”

Donny nodded. He wasn’t too keen on Alsatians anyway.

He stepped outside and inhaled the fresh, moist air.

It seemed like they had been driving down the road forever.

Trees lined either side of the road, deep green arms reaching up into the sky and keeping their secrets close to their chest. Reginald’s car was pretty run of the mill—a dirty red, two-seater with no boot. Donny wasn’t so sure whether that was merely a design choice or whether there were no such things as ‘car boots’ in Reginald’s reality.

H.P. Sauce but no car boots. What sort of a place was this?

“How long to go?”

Reginald rolled his eyes. “You’re like an impatient kid.” He reached over to the dashboard and pulled a folded old map out, the pages curling at the edges through years of use. He opened it up on the steering wheel and squinted at it, keeping one eye on the road. “This map should take you on the route me and my wife used to walk. If you follow it, you’ll reach the place. It… it might appear differently to you than it does to me. It depends on what you saw before the gap, y’know? I can’t guarantee you’ll find what you’re looking for, or whether I’ve made a mistake, but I’ve done what I can.”

“And I appreciate that,” Donny said.

Reginald sighed, biting at his bottom lip and scanning the trees. The birds flew out above them as the road narrowed, dirt tracks forming at either side. Thus far, they hadn’t passed a single car.

Not until Donny spotted the car approaching in the distance.

Reginald was staring at the map as he accelerated down the straight road. He grumbled away and turned it upside-down. “I’m sure the… ah yeah, if I take you here you should be able to just follow the path and—”

“You might want to pull over for this guy.”

Reginald looked up from the map and at the oncoming vehicle. The map slipped from his hands and his cheeks went red. “Damn it,” he said. “Damn it.” He fumbled for his seatbelt with his shaking hand and clicked it into place with a few attempts.

“What’s going on?”

Reginald was breathing short, shallow breaths, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel as his foot hit the brake. “Checks. Personnel checks. Just—just keep quiet and let me do the talking, okay?’ He opened the dashboard drawer again and scurried around for some more papers, loose receipts dropping to the floor of the car. He threw a little green book onto Donny’s knee. “If they ask, you just show them this, okay? It—it might not work but… but just try.”

The black vehicle ahead flicked on its orange indicator and pulled up directly in front of Reginald’s car as he ground to a halt. Donny could hear Reginald’s shallow, nervous breaths as the pair of them sat in silence.

A man stepped out of the side of the van. He was dressed in a blue suit with yellow patches on the shoulders and knees. On his head, a helmet, black-tinted glass covering his eyes and a mouthpiece in his face.

Attached to his leg, a gun, almost the length of his thigh.

Donny gripped the seat tightly and took deep breaths into his stomach as the guard approached.
He could do this.
He’d been through worse in the last few days. It couldn’t end here.

Reginald wound down his window and the man placed his gloved hand on the side, the car tilting slightly with his weight. “Nice day for a trip to the woods, huh?”

Reginald attempted a twitchy smile and forced a laugh, which was slightly too amused for the situation. “Of course, of course. Me and my friend here were just… we’re hikers. Just heading down for a walk.”

The guard smiled and nodded his head. “Enjoy a bit of hiking myself. You been walking long?”

Donny sat in his seat, staring out through the front window. It felt like pins were tormenting his skin. He had to be ready to run. He had to be ready to get out of the car and run.

“Pretty much all my life,” Reginald said. “Always been a fan of the countryside.”

“And your friend here?”

Donny shifted his eyes up at the guard, who offered a nod of the head.

“He’s… my friend’s been ill. This is his first day out in a while.”

The guard let go of the side of the car and stepped back, the vehicle tilting back into place. “Well I’m sorry to hear that. You better now?”

Did he speak?
His cheeks burned. He coughed and nodded his head as he gripped hold of the door handle. He had to be ready.

“Good,” the guard said, kicking a stone across the ground. “Good. Anyway, I don’t have all day and you don’t either. Chips please.”

Reginald blinked heavily and reached for his sleeve with his shaking hand. He raised it out of the window and the guard ran what looked like a barcode scanner over it. A red light hovered across Reginald’s wrist, the device bleeped, and the guard nodded his head.

“Cheers. Now your friend.”

Donny’s body went rigid. He looked down at his feet. Did he show him the green book? Did he let Reginald speak?

Reginald cleared his throat and scratched at his beard. “Well, the thing is, my friend… he’s—he’s not chipped.”

The guard stepped closer to the side of the car again and leaned in, looking over at Donny from behind his tinted visor. “What d’you mean, he ain’t chipped?”

Reginald coughed. “He’s… he’s second-gen. We’re trying him out first. Officers said maybe in a few years he’d—”

“Show me your papers,” the guard said.

Donny was completely still. He needed to do something. He needed to think.

Reginald lifted the green book off Donny’s leg and handed it to the guard, who snatched it off him.

Think. Think.

Donny slipped the skin of his wrist in between the door handle. He wasn’t sure if he was completely insane or not, but he had to try something.

The guard stared at the green booklet.

3, 2, 1.

Donny pushed the door handle into his skin, tensing his jaw as the sharp, cold metal indented his flesh. He held it for five seconds as the pain shot up his arm then let go, slipping his hand back onto his knee.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

The guard nodded and tossed the green booklet back into the car. “Sorry for any inconvenience,” he said.

Reginald sighed and smiled, his shoulders slumping. “That’s—that’s quite okay. I understand it’s just protocol.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The guard smiled. “Sir, can I see your wrist, please?”

Reginald’s face turned. He looked at Donny and flicked his eyes towards the door handle. Donny could see it in his face—
Run. Run.

Here goes nothing.

Donny lifted his arm and pulled up the sleeve.

The guard grabbed it and stared at the two-pronged lump in his flesh, a little speck of blood seeping out of it. He held it for a few moments, Donny’s body entirely solid, then let go and nodded his head. “Good,” he said. “You shouldn’t pick at it though, mate. Anyway, sorry about all that. Enjoy your day.”

He turned away from Reginald’s car and walked back towards his vehicle.

There was silence in Reginald’s car. Reginald’s jaw dangled open as Donny’s body sunk back into the seat.

“Pond Green,” the guard shouted, as he opened his vehicle door. “Great place for a picnic. Have a nice day.” He shut the door and drove off into the distance.

Reginald exhaled and the pair of them sat in absolute silence.

They didn’t speak for a long time following the run in with the guard. Donny could smell the sweaty tang from Reginald as the man’s hands still shook, gripping the steering wheel. He didn’t want to quiz him about it—he could never be sure how he was going to react. One thing was for sure—he was taking this very seriously.

It was Reginald who finally broke the silence.

“That shouldn’t have happened back there. It… it shouldn’t have happened.”

Donny nodded. “But we’re still here. I’m still here.”

“Yes, you are,” Reginald snapped. “You are, and you’re a very bloody lucky man. Do you realise how much is on the line now? Do you realise the… the scale of what I’m doing for you? The magnitude?”

Donny nodded. “Just to the entrance of the woods. Just as far as you need to take me.”

Reginald tutted. “Too bloody right just to the entrance of the woods. A wiser man would’ve sent you on your way three miles back.” He slammed the eject buckle of his seatbelt and straightened his back out, allowing his flabby belly breathing space. “How did you…”

Donny raised his arm. A purple bruise was forming on his wrist. “The door handle.”

Reginald looked at it. “The door handle…” he muttered, taking a mental note of it. “The door handle. Not—not bad.”

Donny smiled and looked out at the passing trees. “You’re welcome,” he said.

The road continued onwards. It seemed like they had been driving in a straight line for miles, as if the road was on a continuous loop to nowhere. But Donny could feel himself getting closer. The first thing he’d do when he got back is walk into a pub, order a pint, and ring Sara. He just wanted to hear her voice again. He just wanted to get back, hear her voice, and finish his novel.

At least he wasn’t short of subject matter anymore.

“What do I do when we get to the place?”

Reginald gestured towards the scrunched map on his dashboard. “You follow that. It should take you to where you need to go.”

Donny picked the map up, soggy with sweat and fatigue after years of use. On it, a red diagonal line cutting past certain ‘landmarks’. A tree shaped like a giraffe, an old barn, Vittoria House. “And it’s somewhere along this route?”

“It should be. Nobody can say where exactly, but it should be, if what you told me is correct. The place—the place where the painting was painted. That’s Vittoria, an old B&B. It’s renowned for its view, especially in the summer. The Watching probably made it trickier by painting it in autumn.”

“They painted the painting?”

Reginald shrugged. “If it’s as big a part of the gap as you say, then it’s likely.”

The car began to slow down as the road took a slight dip. The trees scraped against Reginald’s car windows, behind which Donny could see nothing but endless darkness.
Just follow the path,
he said. Might’ve helped to have brought a torch along.