The Disappeared (15 page)

Now!

Or
everything was lost. With an effort that sent hot knives through his injured
kidney Josh tried to heave himself to his feet. That’s when the second kick
landed in his ribs. Josh fell to the concrete knocking his chin on the slippery
floor glistening with blood. He felt all the strength sucked from his body. The
siren whined. In the distance he could hear shouting. They were coming. Rico
was kicking the shit out of him. His plan was failing. And they were coming for
him. Soon everything would be over. The left side of his body – where both of
Rico’s whiplash kicks had landed – throbbed with dizzying pain.

‘You’re
toast, Kingsley. You are the dirt on my shoes.’ Through the coruscating darkness
that filtered his vision, Josh could see Rico grin insanely. ‘Oh my God I’m
gonna kill you.’ Rico whooped like a hyena.

Shouting.
People running down the corridor that led to the bathroom. They were coming.
Rico stepped forward and took another swooping kick. Rico put too much in the
action and momentarily lost his balance. Josh was able block the impact of the
blow with his left forearm.

‘In the
bathroom,’ the voices shouted in the distance. ‘They’re in the bathroom!’

Rico stood
triumphantly over Joshua. His crooked grin was an insane grimace. ‘Ah. Can you
believe it? The faggot still has some fight left in him.’

There was
only one thing Josh could do. It was now or never. Oh God please let it work.

‘You suck
cock, Rico.’ Josh forced the words through clenched teeth squeezing the
sentence through layers of pain. The grin on Rico’s face disappeared. His cold
eyes drilled into Joshua.

‘I’m gonna
take you out, bitch,’ Rico said his tone flattened by menace. ‘ Today’s gonna be
your last day.’

The blood
from Spook’s shattered nose had now formed a large growing pool that spread
underneath the row of basins. Josh was soaked from head to toe in the scarlet
ooze. His long blond hair hung in clumped strands. Rico stepped back carefully,
taking huge reverse strides. He wanted a run-up to the final kick. This had to
be the big one. The final delivery. Josh propped himself up on his hands and
knees.

The siren
whined and whined. Josh could recognise the voices of familiar guards. They were
almost on top of them. Just a few more seconds. Please God help me. Just a few
more seconds. And they would be here.

While
balancing on his knees, Joshua carefully and slowly scooped together as much
blood as he could hold. Never once taking his eyes off Rico. Blinded by rage
Rico didn’t question what his adversary was doing.

The
footsteps grew louder. The guards were here.

Rico ran
towards him. There was dumb animal hate in his eyes.

Josh cupped
his hands and threw the handful of blood onto the concrete floor between him
and Rico.

Rico
charged at Joshua fixing him with a murderous stare.

Too late.

Too late he
saw the large splash of blood that glistened beneath his feet. His right boot
splattered into the red pool. Suddenly there was no traction. At all. Propelled
by his hate-fuelled impetus, Rico’s legs slipped out from beneath him. His
whole body whipped forward. And his face smashed into one of the steel basins.
There was a sickening echo of crushed bone ... squashed flesh and torn skin. And
then all was silent. And Rico lay motionless on the floor. Spread-eagled underneath
the row of basins.

They were
here. The guards were almost here.

Josh
scooped some more blood into his hands and rubbed it over his face. He had mere
seconds left before the guards entered the bathroom. Ignoring the screaming
pain in his body he rolled through the pool of blood. He was now totally
immersed. A pillar of glossy blood. He dragged himself towards the entrance. As
he passed the lifeless body of Rico he lashed out with his leg. The kick landed
on Rico’s ruined face. The unconscious boy groaned softly.

‘Fuckhead.’
Josh climbed over Spook’s still squirming body. As he dropped down in front of
the doorway a shadow fell over him. The guards had arrived.

‘Holy shit.
It’s a bloodbath.’ It was the voice of Van der Merwe – one of Westville’s
longest serving guards. ‘What
de bliksem
happened here?’ There were
other voices. Bewilderment. Shock. Through pursed eyes Joshua discerned
shadows; shapes climbing over him.

‘Where are
the medics?’ Van der Merwe again.

‘They’re
coming,’ someone else said.

More guards.
‘
Wat de fok
?’ Someone swore in Afrikaans.

‘Tell them
to get a bloody move on. Rico and the one by the door are badly injured.’

‘Help me
over here.’

‘Medics! What
de moer
is keeping them?’

Shuffle
shuffle. Shadows. Hands on his body. His face. ‘How did they do this to each
other?’ Josh didn’t recognise the voice.

And then. ‘Oh
my God no. Rico!’ It was a piercing wail. It was Willems. ‘Rico! Rico! What did
he do to you?’

There was a
confusing mass of voices. Shadows. Movement. Prodding.

‘Medics!
Medics!’

‘About
fucking time.’

‘Make way,
make way.’

‘Move! You’re
blocking the way.’

There was a
sharp intake of breath just above Joshua. He assumed it was a medic.

‘This is
bad. The doc’s gonna be working overtime.’

Then he was
lifted. And plonked onto a stretcher. As Josh had guessed – had planned – his
proximity to the door meant that he was the first to be removed from the bloody
scene. His stomach fell away as the stretcher was lifted bodily into the air.
The shadows vanished and were replaced with the bright lights of the corridor.
There was the sense of hurried motion as the medics jogged down the narrow
hallway towards the medical bay. The voices receded into the distance. All the
while Josh ensured that he had a tight grasp on his duffel bag.

Corridors.
Turns. Lights passing overhead. Speechless jogging. And the continual squeak of
stretcher vinyl against wooden poles bouncing with the motion of the trotting
medics. Then there was a dull thud as the leading medic shoved open the swing
doors of the medical section. They were now in a large anteroom – a kind of
doctor’s waiting room. Long benches lined three of the walls. The two medics
stopped in front of a heavy barred gate.

‘Doc,’ the
lead medic said shouting through the bars. ‘We’ve got a casualty. Open the
gate.’ Momentary silence. Then footsteps. A key clanged loudly in the lock as
Doctor Marais unlocked the gate and swung it open.

‘Bring him
in.’ The light sharpened in intensity as they entered the main examination
room. ‘Over there.’ Josh was dumped down on a hospital bed – the kind whose elevation
can be adjusted with levers and jacks.

‘There are
more, Doc.’

‘How many?’

‘Two.’

Silence.

‘Use the
adjoining room.’ There was the sound of swishing tunics as the medics rushed
out. A few seconds later Josh felt hands on him. But it wasn’t what he
expected. Instead of examining his injuries the middle-aged doctor forcibly
pulled his duffel bag from him. Josh opened his eyes a fraction. Through the
dappled perspective of his eyelashes he watched the doctor rummage through his
bag. Despite the blaring pain that stung the entire left side of his body
Joshua almost broke out in laughter. The sonofabitch was trying to steal his
stuff. Mother...! Josh slowly reached down to his heavy Caterpillar boots. From
the inner side of the right boot he extracted a crude blade he had been
fashioning for the last two months. Brown masking tape was wrapped around one
end to create a basic but effective handle. The doctor continued searching
avidly. His eyes lit up as he pulled something from the bag. It was a roll of
notes tightly bound with a rubber band. Taking great care not to make any noise
Joshua pushed himself into a sitting position. This was incredibly difficult
considering that an especially large woman with stilettos was stomping on his
nerve-endings with every move. The doctor placed the duffel bag on a side table
and quickly counted the notes. His back was now to Josh. Satisfied, the doc
stuffed the roll into his pants pocket. Joshua pushed himself off the bed
landing on both feet. The shock of pain made his knees wobble and he fell
forward – onto the unsuspecting doctor.

Doctor
Marais squawked like a donkey in labour. He threw his hands up in the air.
Despite his unplanned fall, Josh had managed to get his knife-wielding hand
around the doctor’s throat.

Give me my
money, you motherfucker is what he wanted to say. Instead it came out as: ‘heeeeve
meema honey you muhfuhr.’ Goddammit! The pain was tearing his body apart. He
had to focus. His time was running out. Soon the medics would be back. And his
last chance at escape would be gone. He applied pressure to the knife handle.
The doctor whined. He reached nervously into his pocket and hauled out Josh’s
money. Good. He understood Joshua’s garbled speech. Repeating himself wasn’t
exactly a priority right now. Joshua grabbed the thick roll.

‘Now ... go...’
Josh was struggling to breathe. It was even harder to talk. He gathered
himself. ‘Now ... go ... and lock ... the doors. Both! You hear?’ Doctor Marais
nodded. He waited for Josh to release him but Joshua held on tightly. ‘Go!’ His
confusion was assuaged only by the pressure of the knifepoint on his throat.

With Joshua
gripping the doctor from behind, together they moved jerkily towards the gate
and swing doors beyond. In a bizarre and ludicrous spastic backward-tango –
like two rheumatic crabs in a mating dance – the two shuffle-shuffled forwards.
They reached the swing doors. The doctor took out a bunch of keys and locked
the two doors in place. It was flimsy, but it would buy Josh some much-needed
time. ‘Okay. Now the gate.’ This time they shuffled backwards. If Joshua hadn’t
been in such pain he would have howled with laughter. After much awkward
manoeuvring they reached the gate. Once they were inside the examination room
Doctor Marais locked the heavy iron gate. Josh released the doctor and swung
him around. ‘Painkiller.’ The Doctor looked at Josh with fright. ‘Now!’ Doctor
Werner Marais walked towards a heavy steel cabinet. Josh hobbled after him
grimacing with red pain. The doc unlocked the cabinet and swung open the door.
Josh peered inside. ‘All of it.’ The doc hesitated for a moment. ‘I said all of
it, motherfucker!’ Werner Marais handed Josh about a half dozen packets and
round plastic containers. He recognised over-the-counter pills like Myprodol
and Mybulen. Mixed in amongst the selection were a couple of prescription pills
he had never seen before. Good. The more the merrier. Josh backtracked while
keeping an eye on the doctor. He popped a canister of painkillers that looked
particularly potent and threw four little oval-shaped pills into his mouth. He
corked the canister, collected his bag and stuffed the pills into it. All the
time he kept the knife pointed at doctor Marais. He placed the duffel bag on
the bed and motioned for the doctor. ‘Come here.’ Doctor Werner Marais inched
forward carefully. ‘Hurry up, dude. I don’t have all day.’ Joshua’s breath
laboured under the exertion of his words. His ribs formed a cage of
excruciating pain around his lungs. Every word was an effort in extreme agony.
When the doctor neared him Josh shoved his hand into his pocket.

‘Jesus,
what are you doing?’The pink-faced doctor looked terrified.

Josh pulled
out his wallet. ‘Payback.’ He threw the wallet into his duffel bag. He smirked
at the doctor. ‘Now, undress.’

Q: What
kind of doctor would end up in a fleabag place like Westville?

A: Doctor
Werner Marais.

Q: What
kind of doctor would get himself hooked on ketamine and then make a killing
selling the shit to local teens.

A: Doctor
Werner Marais, of course.

Q: What
kind of doctor almost had his licence revoked but was saved at the last moment
by his influential family.

A: The one
and only, Doctor Werner Marais. Starting to see a pattern here?

The
meet-and-greet with your friendly neighbourhood doctor has now concluded.

Joshua
watched the fat balding man shaking in front of him.

‘W-w-w-why?
What are you going to do?’

‘Don’t
worry peaches, you’re not my type.’

Slowly. Reluctantly.
The doctor began removing his clothes. All the time he stared in terror at the
blood-soaked monster in front of him. Then –

There was a
loud thud at the swing doors followed by cursing. The medics had collided with
the locked swing doors.

‘Ow! Shit
man.’ It was one of the medics. ‘Hey doc. What gives? We got another patient.’

Silence.

‘Hey doc,’
the medic shouted through the door. There was irritation in his voice. ‘Doctor
Marais!’

‘Get those
clothes off or I’ll take them off for you,’ Josh whispered through clenched
teeth. ‘Now! Goddammit!’ The doctor quickened his pace. Disrobing before Joshua
was awkward and humiliating. He blushed deeply and kept his eyes on the floor.

‘Hey doc!
The doors are locked. What’s up, man?’ Once again  there was silence. Through
the swing doors Joshua heard the same voice speak ... though much softer. ‘Something’s
wrong. Quick, get Willems.’

While the
doctor was undressing, Joshua was painfully taking off the brown Westville
overalls. With excruciating slowness he unbuttoned each of the metal buttons.
It was an activity that was slowed not only by the unrelenting stabs of pain
but also by his unwillingness to let go of the homemade knife. Underneath he
was dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts. The bloody overalls dropped to the
floor.