Wheel and Fly
Michelle Tatam
Smashwords Edition
ISBN: 978-1-4657-9029-3
Text and Cover Copyright 2012 Michelle Tatam
Cover Image Copyright 2012
Elena Yakusheva, bigstockphotos.com
Smashwords Edition, Licencing Notes
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For my kids,
Chris, Steve and Rach
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Everyone within these pages is a figment of my imagination (and boy, does it get crowded in there…) If you think you recognise someone, living or dead, it’s purely coincidental. I live in a small town – I don’t know a lot of people. Same goes for the technical, magical and paranormal aspects of this book.
Contents
Monday 6 July
Chapter One
The most incredible thing happened to me today.
It’s so unreal that even if I could tell someone else about it I don’t think I’d dare. They’d think I’d flipped out or something. So Braille machine, old mate, since I have got to tell someone, you’re it. And the great thing about it is, Mum and Dad can’t read Braille – heck, even I couldn’t four months ago.
But then, four months ago I didn’t need it.
For me it started on the trip back home from watching Keith’s basketball game. For him I guess it started a lot earlier, when he first got involved with the drug traffickers. He didn’t talk about his police work much, but I knew he was close to making a bust.
So I guess this was the drug mob’s idea of shutting him up permanently.
Except it didn’t work.
The on-purpose accident, I mean.
Keith is my cousin, but he and Alan are more like older brothers to me. We lived only a street away from each other and pretty much grew up together. Keith’s a police officer, been one for three years now – he joined straight out of school. He’s good – too good, someone obviously reckoned, so they rigged his car, did something to the engine so it’d blow up on a timer.
And that just happened to be on the way back from the basketball game.
The accident made the front page of the newspaper, a thin column on the right side, but only because doctors figured it was a miracle we survived at all. I got a severely sprained wrist, which made learning Braille a bit tricky at first, and I got blinded by flying glass when the windows shattered. I’ve got one glass eye now, and the other one’s pretty much useless. I can tell light and dark, but that’s about it. Gives the old saying ‘keeping your eye on something’ a whole new meaning; ever seen a lone blue eye sitting on top of a school bag? My mobility instructor told me how someone had tried that on her, so I did it to Alan. Cracked him up severely; he was laughing for days.
Alan helped me a lot during those first few weeks. He’s an intern at the hospital where Keith is, and even when he was hurting too he made me begin accepting my blindness and start learning Braille – and he kept my spirits up with his sick jokes. He’s going to make a great paediatrician one day; that’s what they call doctors who specialize in treating kids.
He’s also the one who arranged it so I could come and see Keith whenever I wanted, even if he is in Intensive Care. I’m still not real confident with this white cane, I keep thinking it’s not finding everything, so I walk real slow. I miss being able to run. Anyway, I tell the lady on reception that I’m here and someone comes and gets me.
They know me pretty well by now.
Keith is in a room by himself, just him and a pack of humming, clicking machines making sure he stays alive. He’s not brain-dead or anything, he’s in a coma. They can pick up brainwaves and his heart’s beating and he’s breathing by himself, but he just won’t wake up. The doctors reckon its shock. They reckon his body’s having a hard time adjusting.
See, when we crashed into the bridge pylon the front end of the car buckled and Keith’s legs got crushed. And he was so fit and active his system’s been traumatized by it. He knew what happened to him too – when we were stuck there waiting for help, in between my own pain and him asking me if I was okay I heard him mumble a few times that he couldn’t feel his legs. Then he was silent so long I thought he was dead till I frantically groped for his hand and found the pulse in his wrist. I guess I kept drifting in and out too, but I was definitely awake when we were cut from the wreckage. Keith woke as he was being pulled out and I heard him say real clear, ‘Oh God, there goes my career,’ before he was out to the world again.
They’ve managed to save his legs. Alan reckons they looked pretty disgusting, all bruised and broken and swollen, but they should look normal enough when they’re healed. He’s never going to be able to walk properly again, but they’re hoping he might be able to manage with crutches or a cane, that he won’t be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.
For a while, sitting there next to him, holding his limp hand, I wished it was me lying there and him miraculously okay. He wasn’t going to be able to go back to his old job, and being a cop meant everything to him. He’d never wanted to be anything else. Alan talked me through that guilt trip – he told me Keith’s bosses were already talking about finding him a desk job. I guess we helped each other, really. He felt guilty because he hadn’t been with us in the car. He was supposed to be playing too that night, he’s a great forward, but he got rostered on an extra shift at the hospital.
Alan told me that sometimes coma patients could still hear even if they couldn’t move, so I started bringing in books to read to Keith. I figured it would help me to learn to read Braille faster, and also relieve his boredom a bit too, if he could hear me.
So today there I was, two days and about thirty pages into The Stars Are Ours! by Andre Norton – I like her old-type science fiction – when I heard someone say my name.
Rachel…
The voice was faint, almost hesitant. I stopped reading and said, ‘Yair?’ Then I paused. The voice had sounded familiar. ‘Alan?’
Not Alan. The voice was stronger now. It’s me. It’s Keith.
Chapter Two
I froze. Goosebumps came up all over my arms and legs, no kidding, and my hair nearly stood on end. ‘K-Keith?’ I whispered.
Yair. Hey don’t cry, kiddo…
I swiped quickly at that traitorous eye. ‘I’m not, it’s just – it’s so good to hear you, you’ve been out for so long – !’ I shut my mouth so quick my teeth clacked together. Idiot, I told myself, you’re not supposed to tell people they’ve been in a coma just like that!
I know about the coma, Rach. His voice was gentle. I’ve been listening – well, sort of – while I’ve been trussed up here like a prize chook. He was silent for a few seconds, then added, I’m really sorry about your eyes, kiddo.
I shrugged. ‘Not your fault,’ I mumbled – then I thought of something. ‘Hey, the docs should be here any second, there’s a beeper-thingy that lets them know when anything changes on these machines. I’ll ring the buzzer anyway – Alan’s on tonight. He’s gunna freak when he sees you awake!’ While I was talking I felt for the edge of the bed and moved my hand up to find the call button I knew was hanging by his pillow.
But before I could grab it, something grabbed me. It didn’t feel like fingers either, it was like there was an instant bandage round my wrist, not tight but firm.
Rach. He hesitated. Don’t do that.
‘Why not? They’re going to come anyway…’
No they won’t. Because nothing’s changed.
‘What are you – ?’
Rach, listen to me. I am not awake. I’m still in a coma.
I got goosebumps on my goosebumps. ‘But… you’re talking to me! How can you be talking to me if – if – ’
I’m not talking.
‘Don’t make fun!’ I was getting a bit scared, and a bit mad too. ‘No fair picking on the blindie! Tell me who you are!’ And I listened hard, expecting a smothered laugh or some tiny noise. But all I heard was:
Rach, it’s really me, I promise and I’m not joking, I swear. Look, feel my mouth and throat. Go on – I can’t bite.
The pressure round my wrist was suddenly not there. I stood, touched my cousin’s motionless body, trailed up his arm and across his shoulder to his face. I put one hand against his mouth, the other against his neck. They were still, except for his breathing – like I said before, he didn’t need a machine to do that for him.
Okay, I’m talking. Can you feel my mouth move? My throat vibrate?