Dead Innocent by Steve Davison

Author:Steve Davison [Davison, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Alice & Fred Books
Published: 2020-06-20T22:00:00+00:00

32

I have worked throughout the night. Lack of sleep is a small price to pay. I have to be thorough in my work. I have to be perfect.

I check the field dressing. It is tight and secure against my shoulder. I stitched the wound myself and have applied a topical antibiotic. It will heal nicely. I’m a good healer. I have proven it many times over.

I make myself comfortable on the floor and stare at the photograph. The same one I carry with me at all times. The one I have had enlarged and mounted on the wall of the lock-up. I connect with it on such a deep level. It keeps me on track. It is with me always.

It was with me when they told me what happened.

I remember that feeling of detachment and free-fall when the news permeated my brain. As if I were spiralling inwards. Collapsing in on myself. I imagine it now. The dust coats my tongue. Then it fills my whole mouth. Dry and choking. Leeching out all the moisture. It is in my hair and caked onto my skin. It is on my clothes and in my shoes. Sometimes I think it has infiltrated my brain. I hear the voices in the distance. Chattering. Someone trying to get my attention. I look beyond the voices and stare into a space far away. There is a yellow sun and dappled sunlight. The chatter is gone and I hear a child’s laughter. I am drawn towards it. Then I see the thing that has never left me. A scene steeped with deep colour. The child is squatting down, his blond hair is tangled and sticks up at the crown. His pale chest and legs are covered in sun block. He is talking to himself just like he always does. Then he laughs out loud. A joke perhaps or a funny scene playing in his imagination. Something known only to him. He shovels the sand into a green bucket and turns out oddly-shaped castles. I watch him make one after the other. The scene is very peaceful and in that moment I know what is important and what is not. I know that all is not lost. More sand goes in and another castle is produced. Then another and another. The bucket is tipped again and again. I have finally come home.

Then I feel the water rush into my mouth. It clears the dust and the grime. It is cool and I have a strongest urge to drink it. But I’m afraid if I do I’ll be taken away. My head lifts. More water is administered and I drink. I can’t help it. Immediately the image begins to fade. I try to hold onto it. I focus on the bucket. It is tipped once again then righted. Tipped then righted. The scene shrinks smaller and smaller. Finally the movement of the bucket is all that remains. I focus on its green colour for as long as I can.

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