Parchman, стр. 46

the logistics of where we couldphysically build it or the avoidance of government intervention and localbusy bodies I knew it had to be here. Your grandfather would take yourfather and me fishing every fall. It was my favourite time of the year. Justthe three of us. Brown autumn leaves and sat at the edge of the water, noone speaking. That may sound strange to you but I can honestly say it wasthe last time I was truly happy. We rarely caught anything, but if we did Iremember my father pulling us in to him and giving us the biggest bearhug ever. I never ever wanted it to stop. It wasn’t just pride; it was justknowing that he had his boys with him. A real father and son moment,where he would look down and smile at us and think ‘they’re my sons,’ hepaused.

‘When I grew older I knew that one day I would have a son and I wouldbring him up here to fish. I would look down at him, bring him close andhave that feeling of something far bigger than anything the world couldgive me. Something that I could nurture in him and share with him. Thefeeling of safety. I always knew that with my father by my side he wouldnever, ever, let go of me.

‘But that was stolenfrom me. Every dream I had for my son wasn’t justtaken away from me, it was snatched away with such consequence andinsidiousness that I knew I couldn’t live with that sort of pain. As his lifewas unfairly taken, even as a man of reason and science, I wanted to bewith him wherever he was.’

‘Then I met a man who told me I wasn’t yet done. That everything has areason. I didn’t believe him of course, but I listened. I said he could havean hour of my time and then he would never see me again.We didn’t speakfor longer than ten minutes and he had convinced me that I had a biggerpart to play in this world. When his Cadillac pulled away his men escortedme to the White House and told me what I was to do. Little did I know thatit was actually one of the many times I would speak to the man, who latertook his own life.’

‘He never saw the big picture though. For him The Cure was always aboutego and being the man of the people, but for me it was always about myson. Now, with you, I get a second chance. When you are better I will takeyou down to the same river we used to fish and you will see the beauty ofthose little moments that separate us fromeverything else.’

‘How do I look?’ said the boy emerging from behind the curtains.

‘Still some way to go, but we’re getting there. When we bought you hereI told you we could fix anything and we will,’ said the boy’s Uncle.

He walked over to the boy and holding the prosthetic hand with his lefthand, hegripped the arm with the other. ‘Try and move my hand.’

‘Nnnngh,’ the boy cried out with frustration.

‘Calm,’ said his Uncle. ‘With time this arm will become part of you. It willmake you stronger. It will be better and quicker than your own arm andwithout any of the weaknesses.’

‘And my face?’ said the boy.

The man looked up and down at the boy’s face. Removing his glasses fromhis lab coat he looked again at the boy then again over the top of theglasses. ‘Healing nicely. We can’t rush these things. We are talking aboutthe human body. It heals at its own speed. We can certainly use what wehave to improve anything we could have done ten years ago. You’re luckyto be alive after whatyou’ve been through out there. If it hadn’t been usthat came looking we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’

‘I just want to see her again,’ said the boy.

The man stepped back. ‘You can never see her again. Not face to face.That’s not to say you will never find love here. I said you can haveanything. You’re family and I will do everything at my disposal to giveyou what you need to be happy. But you can never see Tallulah again. Youcan never see any of them ever again. It’s too dangerous.’

‘I understand,’ said the boy. The open flesh on one side of his face hurtwhere the air con started to make it cold. He could feel it starting to weep.With it he felt his eyes start to chill too as tears filled them.

‘This is not forever,’ said his Uncle. ‘This is what we do. Now let’s getyou bandagedback up and into bed.’

‘Can I just take a look out the window,’ said the boy.

‘Of course,’ his Uncle replied and steadying him they both turned andlooked out of the window.

From outside the room looking in, the man, George Mathers, and hisnephew, Danny Mathers, looked out from one of many huge windowsacross the facility built into the side of the mountain.

Looking down, George Mathers waved an arm out at the bustling citybelow them, over a hundred thousand people going about their business asif nothing had ever happened.

‘And this is why they must never know’.EPILOGUE

‘I remember my father telling me bedtime stories when I was ayoung girl, of a time where people lived their lives carefree andhappy’.

‘But actually life is good. We are happy. It is a different world but one wehave grown to love amongst family and friends. We take strolls around thetown we live. We are careful and understand the necessity of taking certainprecautions, but we meet with our friends, we talk, we laugh, we lookforward to the future. Because now we have a future.

The world is a dangerous place,