Fractured A Slated Novel

Chapter THIRTY FIVE



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The same Lorder stands guard outside Dr Lysander’s office while I wait. He stares straight ahead, expression blank. Whatever possessed him to wink at me the last time has clearly gone.

‘Come,’ Dr Lysander calls, and I escape inside, shut the door.

She watches me walk across the room, sit down. Her hands are folded in front of her, the computer shut. Something is up. Danger.

I swallow.

‘Good morning, Kyla,’ she says, finally. ‘How are you today?’

‘Fine. And you?’

She pauses. ‘I’m well, thank you. But I realised something after our last meeting. We’ve been playing cat and mouse, you and I.’

‘Am I the cat or the mouse?’ I quip, before sense can stop me.

‘You should be the mouse, but sometimes I’m not so sure. I want some answers, Kyla.’

‘I have questions, too.’

Annoyance wars with curiosity on her face. ‘All right,’ she says at last. ‘You ask one, and I will answer it; then it will be your turn. Deal?’

‘Deal,’ I say, though caution says it would be better for her to go first. I search for the words.

‘Well?’

‘You remember Ben: Ben Nix. My friend,’ I say, and she inclines her head slightly. ‘I want to know what happened to him. Where he is now.’

‘I’ve already told you, I don’t know.’

‘You knew he cut off his Levo; you said so. You must know something.’

‘You knew also, and I never asked you about that. But as far as what happened to him afterwards, I looked at the time: that information wasn’t on our system.’ She sighs. ‘Look, I’ll prove it, all right?’

She opens her computer. ‘Come round, and you shall see with your own eyes. Surname Nix, did you say?’

I nod. She taps ‘Ben Nix’ into the search box.

Nil return.

‘Perhaps he was a Benjamin.’ She tries that: nil return.

‘I don’t understand.’ She frowns, then her face clears. ‘He will be in your notes. Yes. I cross-referenced him under your friends and family listings.’ She switches screens. ‘Yes, here is his number.’ She taps at the screen again.

Nil return.

Her face flickers between anger and something else. She closes the computer.

‘What is it?’ I ask.

She sits back, takes her glasses off, rubs her eyes. She looks different without them – they are harsh, heavy black frames. Her eyes without the lens magnification look tired, more human. She puts them back on.

‘He must have been deleted.’

‘What does that mean? Is he…’

‘Is he dead? I don’t know. Merely dying isn’t enough to delete you from these records, Kyla. Even I haven’t got clearance to delete a record from the system. No one at the hospital can, not even the Board. I can create new patient files, update them, edit them, but not delete them. It is against every rule. Yet it is like he never existed.’

‘Who could do that?’

‘Nameless faces, with…’ She stops. ‘Are you the cat, am I the mouse? Enough of your questions. You can see I have answered you, as much as I can, and told you things I should not. It is your turn. Tell me: have you had any more memories come back?’ She leans forward, face still carefully detached, but behind it is eagerness, curiosity.

There is part of me that longs to tell her everything. She could see what has happened to me, explain it. But danger. No one can know. I’m on the Lorder radar: who knows if they listen?

And my eyes are looking, searching about the room. There could be listening devices in here, hidden anywhere.

‘What is it?’

‘Not here. I can’t talk about it here. I don’t feel safe.’

‘I can assure you, this room is not monitored. It would be a complete breach of doctor-patient confidentiality.’

‘Is that a bigger rule to break than deleting a patient record?’

She half opens her mouth, closes it again. Thinks a moment.

She writes on a slip of paper, then hands it across: meet me 9 am on Tuesday it says. A bridleway near my school is marked on a rough map sketched underneath.

With so many reasons to say no I clutch the paper in my hand. Nod.

‘Can you ride?’ she asks.

‘Yes,’ I say, the word out before I even know if it is true. And it is. There is a flash of memory, horses running across a field. Jumping a low fence: like flying!

‘What is it, Kyla?’

‘I remember,’ I whisper. ‘A horse. Black and white. We could fly!’

And her eyes hunger to know, to know everything. To see what went wrong inside my head.

But if her curiosity is satisfied, what then?

Once home from the hospital I stare at Nico’s envelope in my room, willing it to reveal its secrets.

I could open it; see what is inside. I shove it in my pocket and head downstairs.

‘I’m going to Cam’s,’ I announce, put shoes on, and open the door.

I step out, pause, and stick my head back in. ‘Mum?’ I call.

‘What?’ She comes into the hall.

‘This was stuck in the door. It’s got your name on it.’ I hold out Nico’s envelope, not hidden where Mum could find it alone as instructed. But I have to know. What is in it, what is her reaction?

She frowns, takes it. Tears it open and pulls out a sheet of paper. Scans it and her eyes widen. A sharp intake of breath.

‘What is it?’

‘Nothing important,’ she lies, and shoves it in her pocket.

I stare back at her, disbelieving, and for a second her eyes relent, there is indecision there. She is on the verge of telling me something, whether the truth or some other story. There are so many secrets between us. Will she open up? If she does, will I?

Rat-a-tat-tat.

We both jump.

Mum opens the door. ‘Cam, hi. Come in.’

He steps in, looks between us as if he senses something is up.

‘Great minds think alike,’ I say. ‘I was just about to come over to see if you want to go for a walk?’

‘Sure,’ Cam says. ‘But first I’ve got a question. What should I wear to this thing on AMD?’ Mum and I both look at him, surprised, and he looks between us. ‘Uh-oh, he didn’t tell you, did he?’

‘Who? Tell us what?’ I ask.

‘Your dad. He asked if I want to come along to this ceremony thing with you, so I can take you home before the dinner.’

My eyes widen with alarm; I fight not to show it. No, Cam! Don’t be there. Who knows what will happen?

‘But if you don’t want me to come…’

Mum jumps in. ‘No, of course we do, Cam. That’s a good idea! Just didn’t know, that’s all. Suit and tie needed, I’m afraid.’

And I make the right sort of sounds, and try to make it convincing. While thinking what can I say to make him not come, once we’re alone.

‘Time we head out for a walk,’ I say. ‘Before it gets dark.’

‘Cam, a question before you go,’ Mum says. ‘Have you seen anybody out front of our house today?’

His eyes flick to me, back to her. ‘Don’t think so. Just Kyla coming out then going back in a moment ago. Why?’

‘No reason. Go on, you two.’

We walk up the footpath above the village. I look at Cam sideways. ‘You don’t want to come to this stupid ceremony at Chequers.’

‘Sure I do! A chance to get all dressed up, and rub shoulders with the great and the good. What’s not to like?’

‘It’s going to be really boring.’

‘Probably!’ He grins, and winks. ‘But you’ll be there.’

‘Cut the lines, bonehead. It’ll be speeches, politicians. Lorders everywhere. If there was any way I could get out of it, I would.’

‘That is why I’m going. So I can whisk you away after. So no buts.’

We reach the top lookout, and with Cam there, demons are exorcised. He does a Tarzan impression swinging off the side of a tree, and I laugh, standing in late afternoon sunshine. The sun is low in the sky; soon it will be dark. I shiver.

‘Come on, we best start back,’ I say, and he follows as I head down the path.

‘So,’ he says. ‘Are you going to tell me what is going on with you? It’s obvious something is on your mind.’

‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t take me for an idiot.’

‘I don’t,’ I say. Shrug, hesitate. ‘It’s just the usual.’

‘The usual and mysterious?’

‘Pretty much.’

He holds my hand on the way down. Says goodbye out front. Adds, in a low voice, that if I ever need a friend to talk to, he is there.

But I can’t put him in danger like that.