State of Sleep

INDEX

  Copyright

  Dedications

  Chapter1

  Chapter2

  Chapter3

  Chapter4

  Chapter5

  Chapter6

  First published in Great Britain by Speartip

  Copyright © Neve Pearce 2015

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transferred, in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book was written as part of the Young Author Mentoring Project.

  https://www.youngauthormentor.com

  Project Mentor: Lee McGeorge

  https://www.lee-mcgeorge.co.uk

  Cover Artwork: Miguel E. Santillan

  https://santillanstudio.deviantart.com

  ISBN 978-0-9546953-6-1

  Speartip Publishing

  Islington, London, N4

  For Milo

  Special Thanks

  Lee McGeorge, Miguel Santillan, Camilla West,

  Fong McGeorge, Colin Pearce

  STATE OF SLEEP

  By

  Neve Pearce

  CHAPTER 1

  Frank leaned back as the heat crashed into him. There was a bang from the other side of the platform that blew people’s newspapers from their hands.

  "Stop! You're under arrest!" Loud angry voices yelled from behind. He could hear gunshots which caused an uproar of screams and running people. A man in a large dirty trench coat pushed past, sprinting to the other end of the platform. He ran past Frank in a blur, knocking him backwards. Again, gunshots. Getting louder as they closed in.

  Frank stumbled against the wall and crouched, putting his arms over his face, frightened by the shooting and yelling. He noticed his neighbour, Mr Pilcrow, wearing his bowler hat with large feathers protruding from the top. There was a group of young children further down the platform that began to scream, dropping their books and clinging to their worried mother’s legs.

  Then Frank noticed the smell.

  He lifted his sleeve to his face and a small drop of blood fell from his nose. He felt queasy. Something was stinging his eyes. He felt like he was going to vomit, the clammy air suddenly smelled of burnt matches and lemonade and it made his stomach heave. He tried to move his feet but they felt tingly and too light, as if they weren't there at all.

  “I need to get out… I need to…” He couldn’t breathe. Something in the air.

  He tried to run and tripped. He pushed for the exit, desperate for fresh air, to be free from the suffocation but a stumbling lady fell in front of him blocking his only escape. The confusion of oranges and chocolate wrappers tumbled around his feet. Frank's vision began to blur and morph into different shades and colours, his brain was spiked with a rushing migraine headache and his whole body began to sweat.

  The station rumbled into a state of panic, the exits were becoming crammed and filled with people, all frightened and trying to scramble out. He could hear them screaming and shoving each other into different directions. He pulled himself up, using the wall as a handle to help. He watched them all through fuzzy eyes and saw them squirm and shout out at each other with desperate choking faces, too much like animals to ever seem human.

  The exit loomed as a bright glow through the haze of mist. He heard a muffled croaking noise as someone cried out in slowed agony before he finally broke through and fell out into the street.

  Frank stumbled into the road, the sunlight dazzling with kaleidoscopic rays. The fresh air hit him with a wave of light headedness that brought him to his knees. The air was clean and clear but it was affecting him, spinning his mind until he lost balance and fell to the road. He heard the commotion for a few more seconds… Then he heard nothing else.

  ----- X -----

  Frank opened his eyes and saw a dark room with curtains pulled across it. He stared into the darkness for a moment with wide eyes trying to see anything that could be lurking there. "What’s happening?" he whispered.

  This didn’t feel like his bed, the sheets were too scratchy. Frank moved his hand to his head in confusion, but too weak to hold it there, he let it fall back to the bed. He could hear faint buzzing noises, perhaps from a machine and he could smell the strong scent of hand sanitiser. This wasn’t his bed, this wasn’t his home… Where was he?

  With more strength than was comfortable, he pulled the covers aside and looked down at the long white gown he was wearing. He tried his very best to remember where he was and how he had got there. His feet felt a cold sharp shock as they touched the floor. He bit the inside of his cheek, feeling uneasy, looking around at the unfamiliar place.

  It was a hospital ward. It was dark.

  He went to the curtains that part surrounded his bed and pulled them aside with shaking hands. There was a young nurse in a chair at the end of the ward with a gossip magazine in her lap. She didn’t notice him.

  “Hello?” he whispered. “Hello? Can you help me?”

  "What are you doing?" the nurse asked.

  "Um... I'm sorry... I've just woken up." His voice cracked and he stuttered a little.

  The nurse sighed. "Get back into your bed." It was clear that she was not in any mood for a conversation.

  He crawled back into bed obediently. "Do my parents know where I am?" he stammered.

  The nurse nodded once staring at him dismissively. "You need to sleep."

  "What happened to me? Where am I?"

  The nurse did not reply at all this time. She walked over to a tray in the opposite side of the room and produced a large gleaming needle that shone in the moonlight from the nearby window. Frank's jaw clenched when he saw it.

  "This will help you to sleep. Give me your arm."

  Frank slowly reached out a little with his left arm and watched the nurse inject the metal needle into his vein. He felt the sharpness of it even more as he clenched his muscles. His mind felt misty as the needle was removed and the nurse left him. He couldn't quite remember where he was, as much as he didn't want to, the moment his eyes shut again he fell completely asleep.

  ----- X -----

  A table was rolled over the bed and a bowl of grey porridge appeared. Frank blinked his eyes and fought himself upright as a nurse opened the curtains and switched on the three televisions in the corners of the room. Frank looked around, letting his eyes adjust. The ward looked a lot bigger in the daylight. He wondered how long he had been here and whether his parents would come to take him home. He tried his best to remember where he was before he had woken up here. He remembered train tracks and screaming, but his mind was still fuzzy.

  The weatherman on TV had an overly enthusiastic chuckle as he pointed to the map of Britain behind him. "And here in sunny London we'll be seeing yet again another beautiful day with no clouds or rain in sight."

  Frank looked through the window to see dark clouds hover in the sky and raindrops against the windows. He watched the end of the forecast. The weatherman grinned once more and gave a big thumbs-up. "Have a great day, Britain!"

  Frank thought he looked fake.

  Patriotic music began to signify the daily broadcast from the Prime Minister. Frank usually watched the evening repeat with his parents. It was the first time he’d seen it go out live in the morning.

  The Prime Minister stood beside a statue of Britannia draped in a Union Jack. “We all remember the Anglo
-Russian war from ‘87 to ‘93,” he began. “It was the worst of times and we all suffered and we all remember how it happened. At war with Russia while the rest of the world refused to help. Then the Americans went their own way leaving Britain isolated in a war we could never win. Reserves were dwindling, food grew short, there were black markets and looting, crime became pandemic and people locked themselves in their homes.”

  Frank never remembered him to look so old and sinister. His suit was a sickly light blue and his face looked as if he had never smiled before. Neither had Frank remembered his voice sounding like a harsh grumble. It was croaky, like he smoked a thousand cigars a day. The broadcast ended with the usual catchphrase, "The government protects."

  "Would you mind changing the channel?" Frank asked a nurse.

  "You want to change from the Prime Minister’s daily message?" She looked shocked at him, but gave Frank the remote.

  The next channel was a popular game show. The channel after was a political discussion on how Britain was better than Russia. Nothing interested him. An advert for toilet paper came on. “Is your bottom sore when you wipe?” The woman with the sore ass seemed to pop up in every reality TV programme. She had bright red lipstick and a crimson frock that looked overly dressed for advertising toilet paper. "Not only will Softy Wipes ease your pain, but this month you'll get a free English flag in the pack. God bless the Prime Minister."

  The next advert was for headache tablets. They were packaged in shiny silver boxes and were held by another well-known popular celebrity who smiled too much, like he was trying too hard. "If you're feeling confused or down lately, try AcheyWakey’s. An excellent new product from your government." Something clicked in Frank's head. All these adverts followed the same template. Popular celebrities telling people to buy these products, "for England!"

  “This is rubbish,” Frank said aloud.

  A male nurse looked to him. “What’s rubbish?” he asked.

  “These TV adverts. Did you notice how they all follow the same pattern? Watch one.”

  The next advert was for the TV show, Government Apprentice.

  Five men in suits and five women in long ball gowns were standing in a field. The camera zoomed out and a cow walked past them as they stood posing. The nurse jumped excitedly, "I can't wait for the new series to start." The advert ended with the sound effect of a cow mooing. Frank watched the nurse for a moment. He looked mesmerised by the preview. "It’s going to be great. God bless the Prime Minister!" He looked straight at Frank and repeated himself. “God bless the Prime Minister?”

  “Oh… yes, God bless the Prime Minister,” Frank repeated.

  ----- X -----

  Frank remained in bed as he couldn’t stand for too long without feeling lightheaded.

  A man in a long white coat, who Frank assumed to be a doctor, came in. He was holding a black clipboard and was accompanied by another man who looked a little different. He wore a smart looking black suit. He stared at Frank with a blank impassive gaze and held eye contact until Frank looked away.

  The suited man brought out security credentials. "Hello, Frank. My name is Mr Complete," the man said in a sharp tone and a very strong British accent. Can you tell me what you remember when you were in the station?" He took a seat next to the bed and pulled it uncomfortably close.

  Frank scratched his scalp. "Well, um... I remember the gunshots being fired behind me and I saw a man run past who looked like he could have been one of the terrorists. I think he was wearing a..."

  "...This was not a terrorist attack, Frank," the man cut in. "This was a gas explosion. You must be confused from the medication you have been taking." Mr Complete turned to the doctor and said, "Let’s try the Pepside A-12." He turned back to Frank and smiled. "You must still be very confused, Frank. The doctor is going to give you something to help jog your memory."

  Frank saw the doctor preparing an injection.

  There was a small moment of silence before the suited man spoke again. "You've been watching TV whilst you've been here? What did you think of the Prime Minister's speech this morning?"

  "I remember how I always adored the Prime Minister… but since the attack... the explosion I mean," Frank paused, "I've found myself thinking that I have no idea why. I felt hostile when I saw him on TV this morning."

  Mr Complete stared at him with suspicious eyes for a moment then softened his face into a smile. "I wouldn’t worry, Frank. You have nothing at all to worry about. Remember, the government protects." He turned to the doctor. "Inject him."

  Frank felt the sharp needle pierce his skin and felt his eyes lose focus as Mr Complete stood to lean over him, getting close to his face. “Now listen, Frank,” he said. “This is for your own good. You must remember that what happened was a gas explosion. There are no terrorists… I am trying to help you, Frank. Forget what you think you saw. Only know that this was an accident, a terrible accident.”

  Frank’s eyes rolled in his head and saliva drooled across his chin. His neck felt weird and his lips tingled from whatever he had been injected with. Mr Complete leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Frank. Don’t ever say this was terrorism,” he said. “If you say this was terrorism, people will think you are mad! This was a gas explosion. Nothing more. Do you understand? It was a gas explosion. It was an accidental gas explosion.”

  ----- X -----

  "Your mummy is here to collect you." The nurse smiled at him in a way that made Frank feel like a child. Mummy? He was nineteen. She handed him his old brownish clothes that he had been wearing the day he came into the hospital. They smelled of dirt and had a slight waxy feel that reminded him of the oily lemonade smell he’d choked on in the station.

  “This wasn’t a gas explosion,” he whispered to himself feeling the residue on the fabric.

  "Also, your doctor orders that you take this complete pack." She handed Frank a bright silver pack of pills that were surprisingly heavy. “Ah, here’s your mummy now.”

  The huge blonde hair of Mum was the first thing he saw, the look of barely concealed anger on her face worn proudly as a show for the nurse.

  “Hi, Mum.”

  “Don’t you ‘Hi mum’ me,” then less sternly to the nurse, “I’m really sorry for all the trouble he’s been causing you and I promise he won’t do it again.”

  The nurse nodded, seemingly accepting her apology for whatever it was Frank was supposed to have done.

  “Mum, I was in an accident. I’ve been here…”

  “Quiet you. I think you’ve caused enough drama.” Mum smiled to the nurse, “Do you need anything from us, or can I take him home now?”

  “Yes. He’s free to go,” the nurse responded.

  Frank raised his wrist; a hospital band was wrapped around with his name and admission number. “Could you cut this off, please,” he asked.

  “That’s your number,” the nurse said. “You can take it off yourself only when you’ve left.”

  “Stop causing trouble,” Mum added.

  Frank looked to the pills the nurse had given. "Can I ask what these are for?”

  “No, you can’t,” Mum interrupted. “I’m sorry nurse, I’ll take him now.”

  They went outside into a light drizzle. The fresh air smelled nice and for a few seconds at least it was peaceful. Then his mother's angry voice interrupted. "You need to start explaining yourself, Frank. Why have those men been to our home asking questions about you? Do you know how distressing it was having men search the house and ask all kinds of questions?"

  “Men? What men? Mum, I’ve been in hospital. I was…” Frank lifted his hand to his head as he felt a headache beginning to spread around his brain. Softly, he said, "Mum, I haven't done anything. But something happened. It was a terrorist attack. I had nothing to do with it! None of that is my fault!"

  “Terrorists? Don’t say such stupid things. There are no terrorists. The government protects!”