Only If You Have To

Unexpected Memory

I let the numbness of it wash over me as they dragged my limp body up out of the mines. Ernie and Hector had been good men. I hadn’t known them as well as I’d like, but good men in bad times are like standing in the eye of a storm, a safe shelter all too often short lived.

The moment it had happened kept playing through my head like a stuck record. Ernie gave a sharp yelp of surprise as his line had snapped. Trying to save himself he’d grabbed Hector as he fell, the momentum bringing him head first into the wall. The sound his skull had made was halfway between a hammer strike and a boot stepping on rough gravel. It was still hard to believe the end of a life could be so sudden. Hector's rope under the momentary weight of Ernie had given way as well. Hector had fallen screaming after Ernie’s limp form, arms reaching desperately for anything to grab on. I couldn't tell if the screaming stopped because he hit the bottom or merely fell too far to hear.

I staggered out towards the entrance grabbing my sun clothes in a white knuckled grip, it was all I could do to not be sick. From the retching sounds behind me it sounded like someone else wasn’t so lucky. I pulled my sunclothes on and walked quickly to my car, my hand thumbing over my crucifix as I went. It sounded like I’d run a marathon as I turned the air con on, but the cool blast of air was helping far less than it usually did. My scars itched painfully as I sent a shivering hand looking for an appropriate cd to play. David Bowie, Bon Jovi, Hunters and Collectors. I couldn’t picture any of them making me feel any better. I tossed them roughly back onto the passenger seat and braced myself to the long drive home in silence.

My mind slowly started going numb as I watched the street roll past, feeling more like a passenger than driver. I only realised that I had taken my route towards the church as I pulled into my usual parking space. Should I go today? I can’t imagine being a particularly pleasant member at the moment, but that new kid Ricky didn’t need me setting a bad example. He shouldn’t be the only one who has to show up every day. I turned the engine of with a small sigh. Bite the bullet Alan, it’s only an hour. I trudged up to the doors which were as always being held open by the old pastor.

I must have been driving faster than I thought. There were only three others present in the small circle of chairs. I waved as I walked towards the coffee jug. Liquid gold in a paper cup. Glorious. I take a large gulp ignoring my burning tongue and feel some of the tension I’d been holding since the mine seep away. What a f*****g day.

I pulled my crucifix out of my coat and said a prayer for the souls of Ernie and Hector. People came in and milled around. It wasn't much and I knew it. I let my mind wander as everyone went through the usual routine of introducing themselves and how long they’ve been sober. I was nearly through my third cup of coffee when Ricky walked in.

He looked like a proper mess. Pale and shivering, dank hair plastered thickly to his forehead. He slumped down in a seat, itched at his head and arms for a moment, and then got up to walk over to grab a cup of coffee, which he promptly nearly choked on.

I couldn’t help but feel for the guy. I can still remember how bad my first month was, the urges, the moods, the times when it was near impossible to stay functional, and I was only addicted to alcohol.

“Ah Ricky.” Kamal chuckled jovially, “Nice of you to show up! Since you’re here, why don’t you introduce yourself next.”

Ricky groaned in exasperation and slowly pushed himself to his feet.

“Hi I’m Ricky, and I’m about every kind of ‘olic known to man. It has been two weeks and three days since my last anything, and I hate it, I hate being here, and I’m pretty close to hating just about everything. If I’m being honest, the gun in my glovebox is looking more tempting every day, so I’m sorry if I’m not exactly in a share and care mood.”

The silence was cold enough to elicit chills in the stuffy room. A few members exchanged worried glances, as I glanced over at Kamal it was easy to see he definitely wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Christ I was kidding. No need for the funeral faces.”

That’d be fine if he hadn’t mentioned that gun before. He had brought up that gun more than humour should allow. I felt a small growl of anger growing in my chest, but I caught it before it escaped. He shouldn’t take the Lords name in vain, joke or otherwise.

The rest of the meet proceeded as one might expect. The regular reminders of the 12 step plan, how that you have to give yourself over to a higher power because you lack control over your addiction. Ricky tried to disguise his chuckle as a cough. I wasn’t fooled. I was never that good at controlling my temper when it came to people like Ricky laughing at the word of God, especially since it had helped me come so far. The meet ended and people started to slowly started to file out. Ricky was the first out, I was the second. I grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him escaping into the dark.

“Could I have a word?” I asked, trying not to let my anger into my voice. From the look on his face I don’t think I did very well.

“Sure thing err…” Ricky furrowed his brow, reaching for a name, “Adam?”

“Alan.”

“Damn, I was that close.” He groaned, “Sorry mate, I’m terrible with names.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Ok thanks mate I-“

“Look.” I interrupted before he could get me off track. I have something to say and he isn’t stopping me. “I don’t care if you don’t believe in God, that’s your choice, but it’s rude to laugh at other people’s beliefs ok?” Ricky glazed eyes widened at my words, and his gaunt visage split into a wide grin as he started laughing. I don’t believe this, the nerve of this guy!

“Oi! Why are you laughing?!”

“I’m laughing at you mate! Anyone stupid enough to believe in God at this point is closing their eyes to a lot f****d up things in the world right now. God is supposed to be all seeing and all-knowing right?”

“Yes. What about it?”

“Well then correct me if I’m wrong but that means he wouldn’t have created us in the first place right? Because he knew we’d f**k up this badly. Also he wouldn’t have created Lucifer, because he knew he’d become his worst enemy. Seriously, if God did all of this despite knowing everything that would happen after, then he’s either a sadistic bastard or a complete moron, and so is anyone who still looks to that bullshit for comfort.”

I reeled back and punched him square in the nose, and felt it break under my knuckles. Ricky’s head jerked back and collided with the wall with a dull crack, then he started laughing again. I was already walking away, shame itching at the back of my mind. I didn’t have to do that. I shouldn’t have done that. Violence doesn’t solve anything. I should’ve turned the other cheek. I stripped off my shirt as I walked back towards my car, I just wanted to go to sleep, try to forget this whole day ever happened.

I drove home slowly, shackled by embarrassment and regret. I could barely talk to Jane anymore, it’s hard to knowing that it was my fault she was devil horned. Those scars will never fade, and they’ll never stop reminding me how when it mattered most I let her down. She will wear them for the rest of her life, just like the ones on my back. Doyle had laughed saying that I’d gotten a set of wings to match my daughter’s horns. That was right before I broke his nose.

I pulled into my driveway, trying to push these thoughts from my mind, or at least hold them at arm’s length. Things can’t keep going like this, I’m her father, I have to be able to move past this. She’s the one who is suffering the most. I have to be there for her. I walked into the dark house and carefully make my way up the stairs, carefully avoiding the ones that creak, and made my way to Jane’s bedroom door. Breathing deeply, I knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Still nothing.

“Jane? Can I come in?” Not a sound. I suddenly thought with horror of the last time she hadn’t answered her door.

“I’m coming in.”

As soon as I entered it was plain that she had gone. Everything is perfectly ordered, clean, Jane never kept her room like this. She always claimed that cleaning it was an exercise in futility, as it will all be messy again come next week, and yet here it was, painfully clean. My bandaged scars twinged in fear as I surveyed the scene, searching for any of the usual clutter, anything that could tell me that everything was still alright. My eyes landed on a lighter, the symbol of Batman gleaming dully in the light, it was weighing down a note in the hard handed scrawl that Jane always wrote with.

I’m sorry. Don’t look for me.

J.

I stared blankly at the words for what felt like days, barely able to understand the implication of what they meant. Then the panic started to rise in my chest as the wounds on my back writhed white hot on my skin. I threw the door open.

“GINA! WHEN DID YOU LAST SEE JANE?!”

I burst into the main bedroom to find Gina sitting in bed wide eyed at my shouting.

“Um, I think it was just after dinner. She said she had left something at school. I told her if she waited she could catch a lift with you but...”

I turned and sprinted for the door, Gina's worried questions fading into the background behind me. I dashed into the street and ran toward the town hall, and the only reliable phone in town. I hurriedly punched in the number for the school, only to receive an automated message telling me the school was closed and to call in the morning.

“No… no no no NO!”

I slammed my palm into the metal of the phone booth in frustration. Turning over pages in my memory. One of Jane's teachers had a landline. I punched it in. No answer. I slammed the phone back into its socket and screamed curses into the night. I couldn't help myself. I'd only just gotten her back.

One of her teachers lived a short distance away. Darryl Parkinson was his name. I started sprinting again, sweat glazing my skin in the cool night air. It wasn't too late to take everything back. I thought; I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I can’t lose her again.

Panting heavily, I reached Darryl’s front doorstep. I knocked hard. No one answered but from the bedroom window I faintly heard someone make a shushing sound. It was more than I could take. But I'm not sure why. So I took a few steps back and charged the door, shoulder braced for impace. The door shattered on its hinges and splinters sprayed into the living room. Darryl emerged with a cricket bat in his shaking hands. He never would have intimidated me and in that moment he was naked.

“Where the f**k have you been?!”

“Alan?! What the hell did you do to my door?!”

“Answer the f*****g question Darryl I don’t have the time for this.”

Truth was I wasn’t sure how I had done that to his door. It clearly wasn’t very well made. Not much was these days.

“I-I well you see.”

He stammered obviously looking for a way out of this conversation. Then I saw a young girl peeking around the corner looking quite alarmed. It was Georgia, a girl one year below Jane, and her close friend. She was naked as well. I stared back at Darryl who was desperately trying to push her back behind the corner, and the truth of what I was seeing hit me with the force of a small train. This day just got worse and worse. I crossed the distance between us and I kicked the old man hard in the balls. He made a sound like a rodent being stepped on and fell the floor gasping for air. I turned to Georgia who looked a little scared, and a little happy after what she had just seen, and in my gentlest voice I ask;

“Georgia have you seen Jane anywhere?”

“Um” She looks briefly down as her teacher cradling his groin as he struggles for air then her eyes meet mine, “I think I saw her walking with some guy? I thought I must’ve imagined it but you seem pretty worried, is Jane… Mr Flag is something going on?” It felt as though I had been dowsed in icy water, this can’t be happening.

“I hope not. Thank you, Georgia, you should get home to your parents its very late.” I turn to the crumpled form of Darryl who was still breathing deeply, cradling his balls.

“You best get out of my town, or next time I see you I’ll cut them off.”

I didn’t wait to see his reaction. I was the out the door and running into the night. I ran in a fierce panic. I could feel the edges of my world fracturing. I searched for my baby girl high and low. I went door to door begging people for anything that could lead me to her. I prayed to god and all his angels not to take away my little girl. I was still running as the first signs of dawn showed themselves.

No! Dawn means she’s gone, it means I might never see her again, it means that I was too late again.

It means that that Gina will get sick and I won’t be able to help her. It’ll mean two years of nightmares and wondering if she’s dead in some shallow grave somewhere.

The world has ended and I am left to suffer.

I fell to my knees in the growing light, and I knew that I was out of time. I screamed to an unforgiving sky, I screamed to a world that refused to stand still. I know I went home. I know I held my wife as she cried for what we had lost. I know I did that, but I wonder how beautiful that sun’s first light will be. I stare as it rises above the horizon, it’s been so long since I last watched the sun rise. I’m on fire but I only feel warm and whole, as the flames lick at my blistering skin, my scars spread into leathery wings. The world is burning. I am burning. I deserve to. Good.

Ricky slams on the brakes. My eyes force the lids open as they are jerked forward in my scalp. Is that my brain rattling around in there? The last time I was woken up in such a painful way there was a pitcher of moonshine and a jar of piss involved. It's a long story. And I have no idea why the memory sticks in my head. I feel I've been propelled from one nightmare into another, for a flaming figure with arms outstretched stands before us on the road. A man standing atop a car with arms raised to the sky has set his sunsuit ablaze.

Dear God and all his angels. The truck is stopped, it's the middle of the day. Ricky is still strapped up in all his white sun suit save his helmet. Mine sits crumpled in the back where I left it.

“Help him Ricky” I shout but nothing about the young man moves. He just stares at the fire with his naked eyes.

“Hey!” I shout louder, desperately moving to shake him. But his hard eyes flash towards me, some part of this man is immovable. Trying to shove him out the door will only anger him. I need him. Well since I'm already doing something stupid by being here I wrench open the passenger door. Ricky shouts something to my back but I'm already approaching the car and the blazing man. To say the sun is hot doesn't even come close. The light itself hurts. Every follicle of hair on my skin starts to itch. In a few minutes they'll start to fall out. Every cell on the surface of my skin is being stabbed by blunt needles. In ten minutes or so they'll start to split and blister.

The man's sun suit has almost completely burned away, the fire is almost out. Now the real fire is assaulting him. He's surrounded by a stink of blood and charred flesh. His pale skin was already ruined by the fire and now the sun is driving in its claws. He's screaming, wailing, or maybe he's singing. I can't tell.

His legs give way beneath him and he falls beside the driver's door. His body crunching, splitting at the seams and spitting on the searing hot road. I run up and grab his blistered hand. Try to pull him with me. Something moves under my hand, some part of him is coming apart.

Strong arms grab my waste. Ricky has picked me up, I lunge over my shoulder. Striking on a reflex for the eyes. But he's far too tall. A flash of sunlight and he's shut me inside the cab. Sealed safe inside the tinted windows.

Every inch of exposed skin utterly stinks.

“Ok” Ricky says with frustration so thorough it's theatrical as he pulls himself inside the truck.

“Ok” he says again “I get it. You've got a messiah complex and a death wish. If that's all you want I'll give you my gun. But do you have any idea what you just put your f*****g hand on!”

“Oi” I say, sudden anger flashing from inside me.

“Yeah I know, language. Ok. Do you know what you just put your hand on?”

“A man who needed help.”

“A man who needed to die. He's got Phinea.”

“Phinea?”

“Crazy and sick.” Ricky slows his voice down to the point where he could be explaining the difference between a truck and a tricycle to a toddler. “You don't get out much do you? Ok quick primer. Phinea is the name scientists gave the disease. When you get it you turn crazy and sick. Bad mosquitoes in the blood marshes have started carrying around this fancy new disease. These things bite you, your brain starts to die. Slowly but surely losing all your inhibitions until you could shoot your own father in the face without blinking.”

Ricky looks down, embarrassed of all things.

“Didn't need its help myself but trust me. I'd not even wish Phinea on Peter Doyle. Apparently, you can see yourself acting on whatever urge you feel and just can't muster the mental energy to stop yourself. Only upside to it is most Phinea cases is people get the urge to kill themselves eventually. I must see one or two every week. They drive out somewhere there's nowhere to hide, burn their sun clothes away and let the light do the rest. Now did you touch its skin?”

There's a slimy feel to my hands, puss and ooze in my pores.

“His skin.” I correct Ricky.

“Have it your f...” he takes a deep breath. “Have it your way. Did you touch his skin?”

“Yes”

“Ok, the disease is transmitted through bodily fluids. Any of what's on your hands gets inside you and your brain starts rotting. Any open cuts?”

“No”

“Make sure you wash your hands before you put them in your mouth.”

With that he puts the truck in gear. When the car's burning husk has faded out of our mirrors he favours me with a look.

“Not what you were expecting is it. Don't worry. The sunburned country isn't too bad to get across. And I wasn't lying about lunch. I think we both need solid food.”