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Yeah, but I only just found that out. He told Maputwa to torture me to make Eddie talk. Then he
told him how to do it and when to stop before I died. The fear of the moment flooded back. Fox
gasped, gulping in air as the memory grabbed him again. I couldn t breathe without inhaling water. I
was drowning sitting up. My dad told that drug-crazed psycho how to torture me.
Mr. Conran took Fox s hand. It s much worse when you are betrayed by someone you love.
I don t love him. I hate him. I want him dead, but I always wanted him to love me. Tears ran
down his cheeks. Every time I think about that towel and that bin bag, I can t breathe again.
With his other hand Mr. Conran patted Fox s chest. What they did to you was a form of
waterboarding. You can actually drown from it. You inhaled a good deal of water. The doctor tells
me that you also inhaled some vomit into your lungs. You could easily have died or suffered brain
damage.
I hate my fucking father. I hate him. Mucus filled his throat and nose. I ve got to sit up. I can t
breathe.
Mr. Conran released Fox s hand and pressed a button on the head of the bed. Wait a minute. I ll
adjust the bed so it will elevate your shoulders.
With relief Fox sat partially upright, grabbing at the handful of paper tissues Mr. Conran handed
him. He blew his nose hard. Thanks.
You ve got post-traumatic stress disorder, Fox. I ll get you someone to help you with that after
you leave here. It will lessen with time. But listen to me very carefully now. Are you paying
attention?
He looked into the man s gentle face. Yeah.
You must tell no one what happened. He looked directly into Fox s eyes. None of it, not the
pesticide, Mr. Maputwa, nothing. You will most certainly not talk about the men who rescued you.
They risked their lives for you. I will be having this conversation with Dr. Atherton when he is
conscious. If you talk about this to anyone, you will be in very grave trouble. Do you understand? You
could be prosecuted by the government. His face was very serious. You must forget it ever
happened. You are no longer in danger.
Yeah, but how do I explain the state I m in?
You ve been in a car accident with your friend Dr. Atherton. He was driving. There was a
storm. There were a number of accidents last night. You remember nothing because you have lost
your memory of the event.
So it was last night, then? Fox asked.
Yes. All evidence of the activities at the Atherton farmhouse has been removed. They will
never know what went on in their absence. Your mother and Dr. Atherton s parents have been
informed of the accident. From his briefcase he pulled a folded copy of The Times. A small article
on page two mentioned several car accidents due to the storm. Afton Baillie and Dr. Edward Atherton
were mentioned by name. Conran held the newspaper for him, pointing at the story.
Fox read the article, amazed at these people and how quickly they acted. I had no idea what my
dad and Maputwa were up to, and that slimy bloke, Howard. Eddie didn t either. He had less of a
clue than me.
We know that, Fox. As soon as you knew the seriousness of the situation, you worked to
prevent it. You did the right thing. You re both very brave.
It was God s idea to come to your people, Fox said. I didn t think anyone would believe
me.
God?
Godfrey Rooke.
Ahh. Conran went into his briefcase again to remove a document. He placed it on a clipboard
and handed Fox a pen. Read this and sign it.
The Official Secrets Act was emblazed across the top of the document in calligraphy. Fox read
the act and scrawled his name at the bottom.
I must go now, Mr. Conran said. Get well, and I will arrange a psychologist to assist you
with the PTSD.
Conran was at the door when Fox said, I want to see Eddie. I want to say sorry for all the lies I
told him.
He s already had two surgeries today, his leg and his face. Two different surgeons were
needed, so he won t be in any shape to communicate for a while. Aside from that, his debrief is more
extensive than yours. You can see him after you both leave here if you want to. You may be well
enough to leave the day after tomorrow. Even though your physical injuries were more immediately
life threatening, his will take longer to heal.
Mr. Conran had the most reassuring voice. Why couldn t he have a dad like him instead of the
nutjob he got?
Get some sleep, Fox.
* * * *
It was still dark out when Fox sat upright and dropped his feet to the floor. Experimentally he
pushed himself up off the bed until he was standing. He felt quite steady and attempted a couple of
steps. He was naked, and while that didn t bother him in the least, he doubted it would be a good idea
to go in search of Eddie like that. A built-in wardrobe across the room caught his attention. Inside he
found a dressing gown that, while it was new, looked like something Eddie s dad would wear. Very
fetching, he said, looking at the navy blue and gray stripes. After some fiddling around he figured out
how to unhook his intravenous bag from the pole, slide it through the arm, and pull on the dressing
gown. Decently covered, he pushed his IV pole outside into the dim corridor.
It was more like a hotel than a hospital, nice furniture, none of that utilitarian plastic and metal
crap NHS hospitals used. Vases of fresh flowers adorned alcoves and tables in the waiting areas. The
place wasn t that big, but it was incredibly well equipped. He didn t get far before a uniformed
security guard stopped him.
Can I help you, sir? No one had ever called him sir before. Goths were the least likely people
on earth to be called sir. Aside from that, it reminded him of his father.
Name s Fox. Take me to Dr. Edward Atherton s room.
I m not sure I can do that, sir, the man said.
From a nearby nurse s station a couple of nurses came hurrying over, one male and one female.
Let me help you back to your room, Mr. Baillie.
They were not going to treat him like an Alzheimer s patient, and he was not going anywhere
without checking that Eddie was still in the land of the living. I m not going back to my room until
I ve seen Eddie. Now take me to Eddie, or I ll start screaming. After a brief demonstration, his still-
raw throat was killing him, and the nurses quickly assured him they would see what they could do.
One rushed back to the desk and got on the phone. The other said to the security guard, Get him a
wheelchair. He shouldn t really be out of bed.
The relief he felt when he sank down into the comfortable wheelchair was huge. He hadn t
realized how exhausted he was. For several minutes Fox sat resting while the security guard held on
to the handles of the chair to make sure he didn t go anywhere.
Right, what s this? A youngish male doctor walked up to him.
Take me to my boyfriend, Dr. Atherton, right now. If he sounded really determined, they
would have to comply with him.
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