Dazzling lights swirl overhead. A faint redolence of charcoal and mouldering wood fill the air as I shift my position on the bed. For a moment I stop. ‘I can move.’ The revelation hits like a bolt of lightning surging through my veins. A searing pain traverses my abdomen. My stomach lurches, a wave of nausea sweeps over me as I clutch at my side in agony.
‘You’ve been out for quite some time. Can I get you a drink?’ A gruff voice bellows from the open door. A pallid light seeps into the room. I nod my head, careful not to move too quickly. The door shuts. I can hear him locking it as I stare at a tarnished wooden sculpture of an ivory horn resting on a lacquered mahogany bedside table. Animal heads protrude from the pine wood walls. Gaping mouths reveal jagged teeth suspended in animation. Brass rectangular plates inscribed with each animal’s name and date of capture is etched beneath each head. It feels as if I’ve accidently walked into a hunter’s paradise.
I look across the room watching as a bearded overweight man wearing a red and black chequered shirt stands with a metal tray with a clear jug and tumbler on the shag rug. He wears a black leather waist coat with blue jeans and ochre timberland boots. His footsteps plod across the room, shaking the precarious floorboards underneath. Setting the tray onto the bedside locker resting he collapses on the edge of the bed swaying the mattress with his weight. A wide smile spreads across his bearded face. His bald head glimmers in the light.
‘Had a good sleep?’ he asks, pouring the water into the glass tumbler. He hands it to me. My fingers are weak. I let the glass slip out of my grasp letting the contents fall to the floor. The man sits up from the bed. ‘I’ll get that.’ His burly frame bends over to scoop up the shattered glass and disappears out of the empty room. I can hear liquid drip onto the floor. My head spins as I stare at the rotor blade air-conditioning unit spin hypnotically above the bed, revolving around and around. The night is humid, hot and sticky. A thin film of sweat covers my skin. I’ve never felt this groggy in my life.
‘Here’s a fresh glass,’ he announces as he bursts through the door with another glass in his hand. This time he sets it one the bedside locker with a straw resting on the side of the tumbler. ‘You must be one hell of a fighter. Do you have any idea what they had you on?’ he says, sitting back down onto the edge of the bad. I feel too weak to reply. My throat feels scratched, sore from lack of use. ‘Here, drink this. You’ll need it after what you’ve been through.’ He holds the glass near my mouth as I sip from the straw.
The man set the glass onto the bedside locker again. He stares at me for a moment, stroking his beard as he fixates his eyes on mine. There is a sinister glint in his eyes.
‘You’re some hell of a man for one man, I’ll tell you that.’
I want to reply, but feel too weak. I lower my head and nod, the effort sends a thumping ache through my skull.
‘Hey, take it easy,’ he says, pushing my head back down onto the pillow. ‘You need your rest, after what you went through. I’m surprised your even here from what they tell me.’
I want to ask him what has happened to me. Before the hospital bed, before the day I woke up and couldn’t recall anything beyond the dream. I want to pry open any piece of information I can about him and disseminate what knowledge he has. If only I could get my mouth to move.
‘Those boys took good care of you, I’ll tell you that. They shipped you in here like some precious piece of cargo they did. They wrapped you up as if you were some shiny jewellery. I bet you’re dying to know why the hell you’re here, aren’t you?’
My eyelids close in response, becoming heavier with each passing second.
‘Well, I’ll save that ‘til you’re up and about. Can’t give you the truck load while you’re sprawled out like this. Sit tight, and I’ll tell you what I know. You’ve had some journey.’
His voice drifts off as if he is disappearing into a cave. I raise my hand in acknowledgment. His large hand pats me on the shoulder, shaking it as I lay motionless on the bed.
‘You get your rest son. Can’t have you wasting your energy talking to me now can we?’
Those are the last words I hear before I fall back into a fatigue-induced sleep.
I can’t recall how much time has passed since I was last wake. Time shifts unexpectedly between each period of wakefulness and sleep. I peer around the room. Still the same surroundings. That’s a good sign. At least I’m safe, for now. It’s morning. Daylight seeps in through venetian blinds casting pale sunlight in horizontal slits across the floor. The various animal heads jutting out of the walls appear even more ominous than they did in the night.
The door swings open clattering against the opposite wall. The bearded man has a wide grin across his face. ‘Morning sunshine! Did we sleep well?’ I nod my head in acknowledgement noticing my headache has gone.
‘Boy you sure can sleep. Could have some of what you’re on?’ he starts to laugh, his sonorous voice hurts my ears. ‘How we doing today? Can you speak yet?’
A rush of air escapes my mouth. The effort catches in my throat causing me to cough and splutter. The man starts patting me on the chest. ‘Easy son. Cough it up. You’ll be fine. Surprised you’re not puking your guts up onto this here floor after what the boys told me.’
Eventually the coughing ceases. My head collapses onto the pillow drenched with sweat. The man walks over to the corner of the room pulling a pale blue Windsor chair across the timber floor. He sets it next to the bed and plonks his body on top of it. Leaning forwards we lock eyes. His yellowing teeth beam at me from the nest of his wild ginger beard.
Shifting in his chair, he brushes his wild hair with his hand. ‘You know why you’re here, don’t you?’ I shake my head still unable to speak. ‘Right, there’s a lot you need to know. Unfortunately, I’m not the guy you really should be talking to. I’m more of a middle-man, a go-between. If I were in a post office, I’d be the courier and you’d be the damaged parcel. You get me?’ His ramblings start to scare me. I wonder where his story is going.
‘Well, first off. I don’t know your name, where you’re from, who you’re brother, sister, old granny, heck even what you’re star sign is let alone how you ended up here. You’re a god damn mystery to me and by the looks of it, you’re a puzzle and a half to yourself right now. All I know is that, you’re a fairly important person, I’ll put it to you that way. You’re, how shall we say, wanted by some pretty big names in the business if you know what I mean.’ I don’t, but I keep listening, hoping he’ll provide me with some indication of my past.
‘Well, the thing is. Most prisoners who are locked up, usually life-time convicts and the sort who get ill or injured, they want to get a way out. Find an escape route. You can understand, you’ve been there.’ I stare at him, furrowing my brow in confusion. ‘Well, believe me son, you have. You’ve been in for quite some time from what the boys tell me. For some fairly nasty things. Hell, I’m surprised the jail hounds aren’t crawling around this place right now looking for you.’ he says, slapping his thigh with his palms.
‘Well, anyways. From what the lads are telling me, and they don’t be ones to mess about. Is that you’ve been part of the Lindholm conglomerate. Does that ring any bells?’
Lindholm? The name sounds familiar. Is that my name? I think, watching as he continues to explain.
‘The papers the boys gave to me were saying you’ve been linked with some of the biggest bosses around. Doesn’t seem right. Why would they ship you all the way up here? Anyways, you’re in some heap of trouble boy I can tell you that. If you’re the person they say you are, I’d hate to be you right now let me tell you that.’
A shot of adrenaline shoots through my body. My limbs go rigid. I hope this man is some lunatic who had too much to drink. The room starts to revolve as I stare at his beaming expression. This is too much to take in.
‘Your story has some pretty bad details to it. Reads fairly well. Prostitutes, extortion, money-laundering, covert involvement in the sex-trade. That’s just the tip of it. They only gave me the bare details. Now son, if you’re who they say you are, and I’ve no reason to believe these fellas are anyway deceitful or such, then you’re in for some tough road ahead, I can tell you that.’
My mind races. How did I get involved in all this? Who am I? I’ve only been in hospital and now I’m sitting in this strange looking man’s bed while he tells me I’m part one of the largest crime syndicates around. This can’t be true.
‘As for your name. Well, can’t work with what you can’t tell me. Can you remember anything you saw? People? Places? Anything at all that might help us?’
I shake my head. Prior to the admission, everything is a blank. ‘Well then. Let me tell you a bit about what you’re here for. You’re wanted. A criminal to put it lightly. I deal with feeble, sickened criminals who don’t have a hope in hell of escaping on their own. We recruit these weak criminals and use them when they recover. We’ve found an easy way of doing that through a couple of people on the inside. I deal with a lot of people and you’re the first not to respond to a word I say. I gotta say, either you’re really valuable or they want you for some other God knows what reason. If they didn’t, you wouldn’t be alive sitting on this bed chatting with me today.’
My eyes search the surroundings of the room unsure of where to look. What is this man saying to me? It’s all gibberish. It makes no sense. How did I end up here? I would never become involved in activities like that. There’s no way. It could all be a set up. What if it was?
‘Well son, hope I didn’t startle you or anything. I know what I’d be like if I realised all this after being in a coma. I’m surprised you’re even able to take any of this in let alone sit here today.’
The man gets up from the chair. I watch as his large frame picks up the chair and tosses it into the corner of the room like it was two pound in weight. ‘You rest up son. You’re gonna need it.’ I watch as he waddles out of the room. His burly frame disappearing behind the open door.
A wave of nausea hits me in the pit of my stomach. This can’t be right. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me. Not like this. I’m not this type of person. I’d never do anything like this. A word wind of thoughts sweeps through my head. The room begins to spin, quicker and quicker everything starts to revolve. I clutch the edge of the sheets trying my best to stay upright. Cold sweat pumps out of my forehead. Blood pulses through my ears. I’m not ready for what is about to happen. It’s all too much to take in. I fear I may not be ready for what happens next.