The Lost

Chapter 3

There was something wrong with the sky. It was a uniform, dirty white, in which the sun was a static glow directly overhead. It never changed, and there were shadows on it as well, darker areas in the corners. Gradually, the realisation came that there shouldn’t be any corners. It wasn’t like sky at all.

More like a ceiling.

Jonah blinked, moistening cracked lips. He was in a small room. Lying in a bed. His head and entire body ached but the pain felt muted, as though filtered through cotton wool.

Where...?

His memory was a blank. He raised his arm and saw tubes and wires emerging from flesh. He tried to push himself upright and gasped as pain ripped through his knee. Looking down, he saw his left leg was held in a raised metal structure, resting on what looked like sheepskin pads. It was covered in a white bandage from his foot to the top of his thigh, thick and constricting. Confusion fogged his thoughts. What the fuck...? Had he been injured on an op? Or a car accident? He tried sitting up again, but his leg refused to move. The attempt brought another spasm of pain.

‘Hold on, love, don’t do that.’

He hadn’t noticed the nurse standing by the bed, half hidden behind a suspended drip and trolley of digital monitors. She finished making an adjustment to the drip flow and came to where he could see her more easily. She gave a cheerily professional smile.

‘So we’re awake, are we? How are we feeling?’

Jonah didn’t know. He groped for some memory but found only panic and confusion.

‘Where...?’ His voice was a dry croak. He swallowed, trying to moisten his mouth. ‘Why am I...?’

‘It’s OK, you’re in hospital. You were injured. Just hang on and I’ll go and fetch the doctor. She’ll explain everything.’

No, wait... Jonah didn’t want her to leave, but she was already going out. He lay there, clammy with anxiety. His mind was a hole, swallowing any thoughts as soon as they arrived. Clenching his fists, he tried to slow his breathing and focus on the small, clean pain as his fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms.

The door opened again. The nurse came in, accompanied by a stern-faced woman in blue scrubs. She came to stand by the bed while the nurse took a clipboard from its foot and began making notes.

‘Hi, there. Good to see you awake,’ the newcomer said. She had a strong Irish accent. ‘I’m Dr Mangham, one of the consultants who’ve been looking after you. How are you feeling?’

Jonah’s heart was still racing. ‘Confused,’ he managed.

‘That’s perfectly understandable. I know you’ll have a lot of questions, but would you mind answering a few of mine, first? To start with, can you tell me your name?’

For a bad second or two there was nothing, then the answer presented itself. ‘Jonah. Jonah Colley.’

She nodded, as though he’d passed a test. ‘Can you tell me what your job is, Jonah?’

‘I’m... I’m a police officer.’ His confidence began to return as he found himself able to remember. ‘A sergeant.’

‘Good. And do you know where you are?’

Jonah looked around the room. There was no accompanying memory, but the location was obvious enough.

‘In hospital...’

‘Can you remember why you’re here?’

Scraps of memory began to filter through, bringing the onset of panic. Jonah looked down at his hands. The skin was reddened and sore.

‘I was in a warehouse. At a quayside... I was attacked.’ It was coming back to him now, a cascade of nightmare images. Gavin and the young woman. The fight. He put his hand to his head, felt stitches and shaved stubble. ‘Jesus, what...?’

He gasped as he shifted, sending pain lancing through his knee.

‘Try to take it easy,’ the doctor told him. ‘We had to operate on your knee, so it’s best not to make any sudden movements for the time being. Now, I expect there’s a lot you want to ask, so I’ll try and answer any medical questions while we do a quick examination. Is that OK?’

The nurse was already bustling around, strapping a blood pressure cuff around Jonah’s arm.

‘How long have I been here...?’ he asked.

‘Two days. Keep your eyes on my finger,’ she said, raising it in front of his face and moving it from side to side. ‘Can you remember being awake before this?’

‘No.’ He felt anxiety bubbling up again as he explored the holes where memories should be. ‘I can’t recall anything since... since before I was brought in.’

‘That’s not uncommon. You had a head injury that required stitches and left you with a hairline fracture of the skull. It caused swelling on your brain so we thought we might have to operate, but fortunately the pressure reduced without intervention. OK, I want you to squeeze my fingers. Good. Now the other hand.’

Jonah obeyed dumbly, struggling to grasp any of this. ‘Is there any long-term damage?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to find out. But the scans are reassuring, and from what I’ve seen so far I’m not too worried. You came in with other injuries as well — cuts and contusions, and chemical burns on your hands — but they’re mostly superficial. Can you push with your right foot against my hand? Hard as you can. That’s it.’ She straightened. ‘Well, there doesn’t seem to be any muscle weakness or motor impairment. We’ll have to run more tests, but I think you can be optimistic. Your coordination and muscle strength seem fine, which, frankly, is better than we’d hoped, and the skull fracture should heal on its own over time. You are likely to suffer the effects of concussion for a while, though. Headaches, light sensitivity, perhaps a little confusion. You might find your thoughts are a bit muzzy, but that should only be temporary.’

‘Should?’

‘Brain injuries are difficult to predict. Some people recover very quickly, with others it can take longer. But try not to worry. We’re very happy with how you’ve responded.’

Try not to worry. Yeah, that’ll work. Jonah lifted his hand to touch the stitches on his head again, then decided he didn’t want to. ‘What about my knee?’

‘Yes, I was coming to that.’ The doctor pursed her lips as she looked down at the pinioned limb. ‘It sustained a lot of damage. Your kneecap was... Well, there are multiple fractures, and some bone fragments were displaced. Plus there are ruptures to the tendons and ligaments. But the good news is the initial operation went well.’

Jonah stared down at his leg. ‘Initial operation? You mean there’ll be more?’

‘You’d best ask the orthopaedic surgeon about that. He’ll be along later to discuss options. But you’re obviously very fit, and the muscles around your knee are well developed. That’ll help when it comes to rehab.’

Options. Rehab. Words that didn’t seem to have any connection to him. ‘How long before I can get back to work?’

The doctor smiled. But it was a professional one, meant to deflect. ‘I don’t think you should be worrying about that for the time being.’

If she was hoping to reassure him, it had the opposite effect. ‘I need to make my report...’

‘I’m sure you do, and there’s a detective inspector who’s very keen to talk to you. But that can wait till tomorrow.’

‘I’d rather not wait.’ Jonah was desperate to fill in the blanks of the past two days, to find out what the hell had been going on in that warehouse.

The doctor’s smile had a definite edge. ‘So would he, but I’m afraid that’s my decision. The best thing you can do now is rest.’

Jonah wanted to argue. Questions were jostling to be asked, about Gavin, about the young woman and the other victims, about the unknown man he’d fought with. But all at once he felt drained. And then, as the doctor and nurse left, he saw something that momentarily took everything else from his mind. Before they closed the door, Jonah caught a glimpse of a uniformed police officer in the corridor outside. Jesus, they’d put a guard on his room? It made no sense. But then none of this did.

As Jonah’s eyes closed, Gavin’s voice seemed to chase him down a dark tunnel.

I screwed up. I got it all wrong. Everything...