Blink {Featured}

Chapter Twenty One

The police arrived, sirens blaring, lights flashing, and John wished he could walk to the window and see. Fuck his horrid life. A man burst through the door, a man who looked mighty familiar, but the swagger in his walk had John doubting. The man sported black stubble that looked more like he couldn't be bothered with shaving than the metro man stubble fashion women had gone for round the time he'd conked out of life. His hair was a mess, the bed head appearance women would call it, but he looked too old to pull it off. Who was this guy? John guessed the man was in his early thirties. The uniform fit him well, though--a classic cut cop uniform.

When he spotted Mam, he tipped his hat with one hand. 'Mrs Finnie.'

Just like that John knew who it was. The fucker! When had this happened? Marty's eyes were as mischievous as ever, but the wrinkles and all over grown up look of him wasn't all that grand. A reminder that John had missed the best years of life. Seventeen years Dad had said.

Marty! He wanted to yell. Of course no words came out. John's stupid mouth was as lame as the rest of him. He blinked his eye till he felt dizzy. Nobody noticed anything. Mam had his hand in a vice like grip, Samantha wept on the floor, blood besmeared. Dad shook Marty's hand and they smiled like they'd known each other forever. And inside John screamed. If there was a hell, this had to be it. And where was Charlie?

'Sam, honey, you must move now.' Mam looked at her with a tenderness John had thought was reserved for him and Charlie. She loved Sam? Tears and mascara stained Samantha's red puffy cheeks, and sorrow hung in her eyes. She stood slow, wiped her hands on the white coat she wore.

Marty frowned down at the scene. 'Gosner, get in here!'

Another cop thumped up the carpeted steps and popped in through the door. He looked nervous. 'Y-yes, Sir.' He pushed glasses up a nose too large for his scrawny face.

'Detail this mess.' Marty waved his hand at the blood and semi-healed dead body of doctor Leang. 'Get a report back to the Sarg, pronto.'

'Y-yes, course.' The cop dug a notepad out his pocket and a pen from his shirt's front pocket. With shaky hands he walked over to the doctor and made notes.

'So, what happened? This is the new doctor, right?' Marty directed the questions at Dad, but Samantha answered first in a hoarse voice.

'She woke John up, Marty. She was a good doctor.'

In that instant Marty locked eyes with John. His mouth fell open, and John thought his heart might stop beating altogether.

A smile spread on Marty's not so young face, and tears glimmered at the corners of his eyes. He snuffled, wiped his finger under his nose and through his prickly moustache. 'Johnnie,' he said and grabbed John's hands.

'Can you hear me?' He looked at Mam. 'Can he hear us?'

'We think so,' she said.

'John, it's so good to see you.' Marty leaned in close to his face and whispered, 'You made it back then, gay boy.'

Ahh! John wanted to smile and grab Marty's face and punch him a solid one in the gut all at once. But only the corner of his mouth twitched. Stupid mouth. Stupid body. Stupid life.

And so it continued, life played out in front of John, and all he could do was watch. He watched the coroner take away the body of the doctor, Miss Leang they all called her. Well, all apart from Sam. She called her by another name, but it kept slipping from his mind. Was she important? Was who important? John had forgotten again.

Cleaners came in and removed the blood from the floor. John sat and watched.

Samantha came in and put electrodes on his body. John sat and watched. She told him how excited she was that he was awake. John sat there, immobile and detached.