Oblivious (18 page)

The following day, Joe awoke around midday, still lying on the sofa underneath the carefully positioned throw.

‘Franny?’ he cried as he clutched his stomach in pain, ‘are you there?’ No response was heard which gave him the conclusion that she was either at work or seeing her friend at the courthouse. Sitting on the coffee table was a glass of water and a small container of tablets. He picked up the bottle and noticed that there was no label, probably something that Francis obtained from work, stronger than anything you could get from a corner store. Holding himself carefully, Joe sat up and swallowed two tablets along with a small amount of water. He slowly dropped his feet to the floor and instantly felt the rush of blood around his body, causing him to feel off-balance. Joe rubbed his hands across his face and tried to stand, his legs wobbling under his own weight.

As he started to walk, Joe shifted his weight forward, leaning his back over with each step, trying to be careful not to fall. He precariously went to the stairs and ascended them with care, holding onto the railing firmly with both hands. Eventually he got to the top; his breathing was too heavy for him to concentrate on anything more than keeping upright. He stumbled to the bathroom and eventually to the toilet. Joe got to the toilet and he quickly dropped his trousers and underpants before collapsing onto his backside. As he urinated it felt like it was never going to end, the sound echoed throughout the empty house along with Joe’s sigh of reprieve. Still sitting on the toilet Joe reached over to the sink and turned on the tap. Filling his hands with water he splashed it over his face and head, trying to wake himself up. Joe reached his hand behind and flushed the toilet. He stood up slowly and pulled up his trousers. As he fastened the top button he heard the front slam shut.

‘I thought you’d be out all day,’ he shouted as he walked out of the bathroom. He stepped to the edge of the railing and looked down to see Captain Richards in his uniform, standing firmly with a handgun pointed straight at Joe.

‘Well, isn’t this a surprise,’ said Richards staring down the sight of the gun, ‘You come down here and we can go peacefully back to your concrete bedroom.’ Joe stood silent, watching Richards as he stepped closer to the bottom of the stairs. ‘You didn’t run very far, did you?’ said Richards as he placed his foot on the first step, ‘I thought you’d be half way across the country by now.’ Joe looked around at the doors beside him, wondering which one would be easiest to get to. ‘Don’t even think about!’ shouted Richards as he got closer up the stairs. ‘I can shoot you down before you can move so I’d think again before trying to run.’ Joe slowly raised his hands to the side of his head and stepped towards Richards who was now at the top of the stairs.

‘I’m innocent,’ said Joe as he pressed his chest against the barrel of the gun, ‘I’m only here because I have to be. If I had done anything I wouldn’t have escaped, I would have accepted my punishment or killed myself for the monster I had become.’

‘Turn around!’ Richards barked as he pushed Joe’s shoulder with the gun. Joe turned around slowly and Richards pulled his arm down to behind his back. ‘If you’re as innocent as you claim, you can tell me all about it on the ride back.’ Fastening Joe’s wrists together with a pair of handcuffs, Richards placed his gun into the holster on his belt and turned Joe back around. He gripping onto Joe’s collar and pushed him against the railing.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ shouted Joe, trying to paw at the carpet with his feet. Richards tilted Joe over the railing, still holding onto his collar.

‘I have been waiting to do this,’ said Richards as he gritted his teeth in anger, ‘You are one sorry piece of shit that deserves to die for what you have done.’ Joe panicked as he was unable to resist Richards’ force.

‘But I’m innocent,’ he screamed as his feet lifted off the floor, ‘I can prove it.’ Richards took one hand and held onto Joe’s leg to stop him from kicking.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said as he lifted Joe further over the railing, ‘the fall won’t kill you.’ As Richards lifted his leg higher up to the railing Joe swung with his free foot, connecting with Richards’ shin. Richards quickly dropped to one knee, letting go of Joe, allowing him to drop to the floor next to him. Richards leapt onto Joe and dragged him to the top of the stairs. He took his gun out and pressed it against his chin.

‘Stand up you piece of shit,’ Richards demanded. Joe was in pain and found it hard to move; Richards took a firm hold on the side of his collar and lifted him to his feet once more. ‘Start walking,’ Richards said, still pointing the gun. Joe took a careful step and quickly rested his shoulder against the wall to steady his movements. ‘You either get down the stairs on your feet or you do it with the help of a bullet,’ said Richards. Joe slowly lowered his foot to the next step, still leaning on the wall. Step-by-step he went down the stairs, all the while knowing that Richards had him in his sights.

‘How did you find me?’ asked Joe as he painfully took each step. ‘Your girlfriend gave you up,’ said Richards. Joe stopped on the step and turned to look up at Richards.

‘You’re lying,’ said Joe going up one step towards Richards.

‘You take one step closer and you’re a dead man,’ Richards ordered, shaking his at Joe, ‘If you don’t move down the stairs I will shoot you where you stand.’ Joe took another step up, this time close enough for Richards’ gun to be pressing against his chest once more.

‘If you had what it takes to kill me, you would have done it by now,’ said Joe glaring into the eyes of his enemy, ‘You are nothing but a small man, a lap dog doing all the dirty work for Tanner. You do know that he looks like the big smart man and he makes you look like the bitch that jumps when he’s told to.’ Richards pressed the gun hard against Joe’s chest.

‘You don’t know shit!’ he exclaimed, ‘Without me the prison wouldn’t be the well-oiled machine it is today.’ Joe laughed as he looked down at the gun barrel making an impression on his shirt.

‘It’s not such a great machine,’ he said with a smile, ‘I escaped, quite easily considering. You’re not worth the cloth that makes your uniform, never mind the badge you wear.’ Richards started to shake with each word that Joe uttered.

‘You have to the count of three to get moving.’ Joe said with a

‘You don’t have the brass to shoot.’

‘One…’

‘It’s hard to do anything without your master telling you what to do, isn’t it?’

‘Two…’

‘Maybe we should call him to find what he wants you to do.’

‘Three!’

As Richards finished his countdown he took a small step backwards and pulled the trigger. The bullet quickly shot out of the barrel and into Joe’s chest, the force throwing him backwards down the stairs. With his hands still shackled behind his back, Joe tumbled down the stairs, landing face first onto the polished, tiled floor. Joe could feel the warmth from his blood spreading underneath him. He coughed up a large amount of blood, spreading it several feet in front of him. His eyes quickly became heavy and all he could think about was Gina and Mary being held by Gordy.

Too scared to open his eyes, Joe could hear the sound of running water. He could feel it running across his neck and over his face as well as the distinct sound of it draining away. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see only white and the water dripping from his face. Lying on his front, Joe quickly reached his hand to his chest; there was nothing there, no bullet wound, no blood, he couldn’t even feel any scars. Opening his eyes wider he looked around and realised he was lying in the shower with the water still running. If Richards really had come and shot him he would be fighting for his life now, or worse. Joe slowly pushed himself up to his knees, reached forward and turned off the shower. His head was hurting, either a result of the fall or the cancer was eating away more of his already confused mind. Carefully, he got to his feet and stepped out of the bath onto the cold tiled floor. Wrapping a towel around his waist he used another to dry his head and hair. He wiped his hand across the mirror to clear the condensation and could see a cut across his brow above his right eye, a result of the fall in the bath. Still feeling slightly lightheaded, Joe dabbed the wound with the towel and steadied himself with his other hand on the sink.

‘Get a grip,’ he said to his reflection, ‘This is not a good time to let it get the better of you.’ Drying the rest of his body, Joe put on his clothes and tossed the towels in the laundry basket behind the bathroom door.

Just as Joe was about to walk out of the bathroom he heard the front door to the house slam shut. Footsteps quickly climbed the stairs and stopped outside the bathroom door. Joe rummaged around to see what he could take as a possible weapon. The only object he found of any use wash a toilet brush in a stand beside the toilet. Joe picked it up, opened the bathroom door and screamed as he ran.

‘Joe!’ Francis screamed in fear as Joe went to hit her. Joe stopped suddenly and froze a few inches away. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ asked Francis with a quiver in her voice, ‘What’s happened to your face?’ Joe slowly lowered his hand.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said breathing heavily, ‘I thought you were someone else.’ Francis stepped forward, brushed Joe’s hair away from the cut on his brow.

‘Why do you think someone else would be here?’ she asked, ‘I wouldn’t let anyone know you’re here.’ Joe looked down at the toilet brush in his hand. ‘What do you expect to do with that? Now come downstairs and I’ll patch you up.’

Francis took the brush from Joe’s hand and put it back in its place in the bathroom. With Francis’ help, Joe walked down the stairs and they both sat on the sofa. Francis took out her medical box from underneath the table and started to tend to the cut on Joe’s face.

‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’ she asked, ‘Or are you just going to tell me that you had a disagreement with a door?’ Joe dismissed the question.

‘It’s nothing,’ he said, ‘I tried to get out of the shower too quickly, that’s all. I guess my leg’s not as good as I thought.’ Francis finished seeing to Joe’s cut and slid the box back underneath the coffee table.

‘I want you to get better, Joe,’ she said, ‘but I don’t know how long…’

‘Stop,’ Joe interrupted, placing his hand on her knee, ‘I don’t want you to think like that, so don’t even say it.’ Francis put her hand over Joe’s and tried to change the subject.

‘Do you know where I went today?’ she asked, ‘I went to see my friend at the courthouse. I did my best and found out as much as I could.’ Joe shook his head.

‘I told you not to do anything that could get you into trouble,’ he said, ‘if anyone found out.’

‘They won’t,’ Francis interrupted, ‘I was careful.’ Joe let out an exhale of air in disappointment.

‘I suppose you know more about my life than I do?’ he said, ‘Well, what did you find out?’ Francis stood up and walked over to her coat, hanging on the stand in the by the front door.

‘I wrote down as much as I could,’ she said taking a small notebook from the coat pocket, ‘I had to be quick before anyone spotted me in there.’ She sat down next to Joe on the sofa and turned over the first page, referring to it for reference. ‘It said that you were not able to take the stand as you were deemed unfit due to illness. There didn’t seem to be many people who spoke and it was probably over quickly. I made a note of the names,’ she turned the page and read each name.

‘Gordon Andrews, he was the person who heard the gunshots and phoned the police. James Last, the first police officer on the scene and the coroner who determined the death.’ Joe looked confused as she read the names.

‘Can they do that?’ he asked, ‘Are they allowed to give me a trial if I am not well enough to defend myself?’ Francis turned to the next page of the notepad.

‘Well, the lawyer who was defending you didn’t seem to ask any of the people who took the stand any questions. He claimed that he was unable to prepare for the case as he could not speak to you in your condition.’ Joe sat forward and rubbed his hands across the back of his neck in disbelief.

‘Is there anything else?’ he asked. Francis placed the notebook on the table.

‘Only that they were unable to identify who the bodies were but there was enough evidence to determine it was your wife and daughter.’ Joe picked up the notebook and flicked through the pages, reading what Francis had already told him.

‘I can’t believe I don’t remember any of this, nothing before or during,’ he said.

‘This could be due to the cancer,’ she said, placing her arm around his shoulders for comfort, ‘The trial was only a couple of days after you were arrested and if you had a bad turn, it may have taken you a while to recover.’

‘I just don’t understand,’ said Joe as he rubbed his brow to try and understand, ‘I just can’t understand.’ Francis stood up and walked behind the sofa to a small table. She slid the drawer open and took something out. Walking back around to Joe, she placed his gun on the table.

‘You’ll need this if you want to get your answers.’ Joe stared at the nickel-plated gun in front of him. Although he had seen it before he was shocked that he was being presented with it once more. He slowly placed his hand over the handle and slid the gun off the table to rest in his palm.

‘You know what this means, don’t you?’ he said as he looked down at his reflection in the barrel.

‘Yes, I do,’ said Francis as she sat back down next to Joe, ‘So, when do you plan on doing this?’ she asked. Joe stood up and slipped the gun into his front pocket.

‘The sooner the better,’ Joe replied. Joe walked to the bottom of the stairs and placed his left hand on end of the handrail.

‘Tomorrow,’ he said as looked up towards his room, ‘I am going to get my family back tomorrow.’ Francis remained standing by the sofa, watching Joe as his gaze was fixed on nothing specific.

‘If you do this, I can’t help you anymore,’ she said, ‘you are alone when you go there and I won’t be able to see you again.’ Joe took the first few steps and stopped, turning his head he looked at Francis’ silhouette in the light from the fire.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but we both know this has to end someday.’ He continued to walk up the stairs, all the while feeling the constant glare of Francis as she watched him disappear out of view.

‘Wait, Joe.’ Francis shouted as Joe reached the landing. She ran into the hallway and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

‘Don’t you want me to go to your brother’s?’ she asked, ‘Or even go back to the warehouse and see if there is another way to get them out without anybody else getting hurt?’ Joe placed both hands on the rail and leant forward.

‘The longer I leave it, the less chance I have of ever getting them back,’ he said, ‘I am going to do what I have to. If there is anyone who chooses to get in my way that is their decision. There are two sides in this and if they aren’t on the same side as me I will give them their destiny.’ Francis looked at the determination in Joe’s eyes and could see that nothing was going to change his mind.

‘Is this the final goodbye?’ she asked.

‘All being well, yes.’ said Joe with caution in his voice.

‘And what if it doesn’t go well? What then?’ Joe turned and stepped towards his bedroom door. Placing his hand on the handle he paused

‘There is no other option,’ he said. Joe entered his bedroom and closed the door behind him without anything more being said.

In the darkness of his room, Joe felt the cold air blowing in through the open window, waving the curtains in the air. He turned on the light and took off his clothes, draping them over the end of the bed. Stripping down to his underpants, Joe lay on the floor and started doing sit-ups, pushing past any pain he had in his body. After he counted to fifty, he turned himself onto his front and started press-ups, straining his arms and shoulders he could feel his muscles working like they had never been used. Several hours into the night and Joe wanted to push his body harder, doing more sit-ups and push-ups were not enough to get him to feel the strength he needed. He stood up and stepped over to a small chair that sat in the corner of the room. Moving it away from the wall, Joe placed his hands and head on the ground and lifted his body and legs up to the wall. With every muscle he could use, Joe pushed himself off the floor with his hands, locking his elbows into place. Sweat dripping down his body onto the hardwood floor, he lowered himself slowly, stopping before his head touched the floor. Pushing himself up and lowering back down, Joe did it several times until he couldn’t take anymore. His arms trembled under the pressure and his body dropped to the floor with an almighty thud. Joe slowly pushed himself up to his feet and stumbled over to the bed. He sat on the end as he regained his breath and heard his own heartbeat pumping through his eardrums.

              Eventually, Joe managed to calm his body down enough and he slid himself up the bed to the pillows. Without moving the covers, he lay his head down gently and closed his eyes, all the time trying to visualise the day ahead.