Cycling to Asylum Page 11

  “I don’t know.”

  “Look, first we’ll work with these weights. Here.” Henry hands me one and he takes the other for himself. “Over your head like this. Fifty times each arm.”

  I copy Henry. The weight doesn’t feel heavy until you been doing it for a while.

  “This is boring, Henry.”

  “No pain, no gain. Don’t you want to do right by your daddy?”

  “My daddy doesn’t believe in violence.”

  “Well violence sure do believe in him.”

  I’m not sure what to say to that so I keep on with the weights.

  “Anyhow, the question is what you believe. Should people just get away with shit?”

  “No.”

  “Well then. And you don’t mind violence when we’re playing The Game.”

  That’s true, but the violence in The Game isn’t real. Can’t I like pretend violence and still not like real violence? “I like the music in The Game,” I tell him. “It puts me in the right mood.”

  “I can put that music on if you want. It’s a real band—Fight Frenzy. You know them?”

  “Uh uh.”

  With the music on, it’s easier to keep doing the exercises. I’m thinking, Fight Frenzy, fight frenzy! I think of other “f” words like that: fury, furious—that’s how I feel when I think of what happened to Daddy. And fear. No, I can think of better words with “f.” Like “fist,” which I’ll use to punch, and “fangs” to tear. Freak, faint, fall, fire, fever. Phaser, like in the cop’s phaser stick. But that’s not spelt with “f.” Except on graffiti or holo-art—“Fuck the Fazer”—you see that a lot. And just “fuck” too, which means have sex, but people use it as a curse word. Like my mom. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How could they have hurt Daddy like that?

  Henry puts his weight down.“Lemme feel your muscle now.” I make a muscle. “Good. You’re skinny, but strong. You can whip Keri’s ass. OK, time for battle practice. I got the new zeta version.”

  My parents would never let me play The Game if they knew about it. I feel a little guilty but mostly I’m excited. I walk into the shadowy holo-chamber the screen projects and put on my game bracelet. I do a fighting stance and make a fist with the hand that has the bracelet.

  “Ready, little brother?”

  “Ready.”

  Suddenly it’s like the whole room has gone dark. It feels real even though I know it’s the holo-wrap. I see Henry’s game persona next to me carrying his weapons—a flying, spiked energy ball in one hand and a poison scythe in the other. He looks like himself, only taller and with bigger muscles, and his face is older. I don’t know what I look like—Henry says like me, but leaner and meaner. I’m carrying my usual light laser and also a full-throttle repeat-action phaser gun. Henry’s on a flying motorcycle and I’m riding my familiar. He’s a giant equibeast with long, sharp white horns, dripping fangs and armor plates under soft black fur.

  We ride down an alleyway with broken glass and twisted up metal. I lift my light laser and circle it in the air so we can see. Out in the distance are plasma deserts where different alien armies are marching around. Farther off, I can see the digital debris mountains.

  Henry starts an attack right away. His energy ball takes a piece off the first guy’s head. Some of the guy’s brains fall out, but he’s not dead yet. Henry always starts up too soon. When the guy is close enough, I slice his whole head off with my light laser.

  “Hey, that one was mine,” Henry complains. “You go after those others.”

  I gallop over and do a bunch more head shots using my light laser. Soon about six heads are on the ground in front of me, some of them still moving their lips and screaming. Henry flips his light ball towards a group of five who are running together. The ball has a delay-charge, and I watch it explode. Body parts fly out in all directions. The ball returns to Henry’s hand like a boomerang. I use my phaser gun on about a dozen yellow zombies, aiming for the middle and seeing if I can cut them all in half. I’m sick of head shots.

  I see another phalanx of enemy aliens. They’re right in front of us in no time flat and I have to use both my weapons at once to keep them off me. When I’ve destroyed the closest ones, I look over at Henry again. He’s killed most of those around him and is messing around with the ones who are left by slicing off different parts of their bodies. I see cut-off hands and blood spurting out of wrists. Then he takes off the arms at the elbow. He slices off a boob from one of the woman soldiers. I stare at it, all soft and squishy, as it falls to the ground.

  Suddenly, I hear my familiar let out a shriek. It sounds like something between a human scream and a horse’s neigh. When I wasn’t paying attention, someone slipped in and attacked him. There’s a long lance pushed halfway into his chest, between the armor plates. I slip off his back, dropping my weapons, and try to pull it out. He screams and screams.

  “Simon! Watch out!” But it’s too late. They’re on top of me and I’m dead from four different lethal wounds.

  The lights come back on. Henry’s pulling my bracelet off. He looks disappointed.

  “Last time we got to level six,” he says. I look down, but he puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s OK, little brother. The new version’s probably harder. We’ll do better next time. Anyhow, we gotta go. It’s time to play some B-ball.”

  I put on my sneakers as Henry talks to his mom.

  “I don’t want you staying out too late.” Henry’s mom says.

  “Don’t worry, we’re just gonna play basketball with some friends from school.”

  “Alright, but be home in an hour and a half. Set the alarm on your screen, Henry.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  I’m dribbling the ball around my legs. I ask Henry who’s coming to meet us.

  “Just some kids.”

  “But who?”

  Henry steals the ball. I take off after him.

  And stop dead. Keri’s waiting for us on the courts.

  “I’m going back.”

  “No. This is your chance. What did you think we were training for?”

  I follow Henry onto the court. We choose up teams. Me and Henry and Khalil are on one team, Keri and Darwin and Frank on the other. There are two girls playing so we each get one. We get Dre, who’s short, but that’s OK ’cause she plays better than Shawna.

  Keri takes a three-point shot to decide who gets possession. He misses, the ball rebounding wide off the rim. I catch it and Henry says I should shoot for our team. I take the shot and swish, it goes in. Yes!

  “No good, your foot was on the line,” Keri says, grabbing the ball from me.

  “Was not!”

  “Was too. Ain’t I right Shawna?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “It was not! I checked and everything. Right, Henry?”

  “I wasn’t watching.”

  “You calling me a liar, Simon-Says?” Shawna walks up to me, hands on her hips. “I saw your own big foot right on that line.”

  I look at Henry, who shrugs.

  “Huh, thought so. Go ahead Keri.” Shawna turns her back on me.

  Keri takes the shot. This time it goes in, and since it’s break-the-ice, they get to start.

  We play a zone defense, but they’re playing us man-to-man. I manage to score off Darwin, but then they do a switch and now it’s Keri who’s taking me. I try to take a jumpshot and Keri pushes into me from the front. I fall on my butt.

  “Foul!”

  “You fell on your ass on purpose.”

  I look at my teammates. They’re looking down or away, except for Dre.

  Henry says, “Let’s keep playing,” and slaps me on the back.

  Shawna gets a rebound and passes it to Keri. Henry charges him and steals the ball right out of his hands. He dribbles out, then back in. I try to get his attention to send me a pass, but he’s dribbling all around, hogging the ball. Keri goes after Henry, double-teaming him, and now I’m completely free. I jump up and down, waving my arms. Finally, Henry feeds me the ball. I drive
to the basket for a left-side layup. Keri charges into me from behind and I fall down hard on my knees. The ball goes flying out of my hands.

  “Foul!”

  “That wasn’t no foul.”

  I get up, dust myself off and notice that my knee is scraped.

  “Look! My knee’s bleeding.”

  “Ain’t my fault you went and hurt yourself.”

  “You pushed me from behind! Henry?’

  “Uh huh.” But then Henry just folds his arms across his chest and looks at me. It’s like he’s saying, “So do something about it.” And then, in case I didn’t get it, he puts his fist into his hand and lifts his chin towards Keri. I look around and everyone’s waiting to see what’ll happen, except Dre who’s looking from me to Keri like she wants to do something. But I don’t think she will. I wonder if people were around when Daddy got beaten up by the cops. I wonder if anyone said anything or tried to help him. Maybe everyone was too scared. I feel scared but angry. Mostly, I’m tired of this.

  I walk over to Keri. May as well get it over with. Like magic, all the other kids make a ring around us. It gets darker, like in the holo-chamber when we play The Game.

  “So what you gonna do about it, freak. Go crying to your mama and daddy?’

  I think about Daddy as I listen to Shawna’s mean laugh. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him. I clench my fist like in The Game, raise it up. I think about how my poor equibeast got killed when I let myself be distracted. I focus totally on Keri’s face and punch out hard and fast.

  Keri’s on the ground. His head is bent down over his right hand, and when he looks up, blood pours out from his nose. His hand is like a cup. When he flattens it out, the blood he’s already caught there drips down his wrist. He looks at his hand, looks up at me, then runs off the court. Everyone else is, like, frozen in place. Finally, Henry walks up to me and puts his arm around my shoulder.

  “You did good. He had that coming.” But then he whispers into my ear: “But why’d you hit him in the nose like that? You may’ve broken it.”

  “Are we playing any more ball?” Darwin asks.

  Henry looks at me. I shake my head.

  “We’re gonna take a break,” Henry says.

  The kids leave one by one. I walk up to the basketball hoop and lean back against the metal pole. Did I break Keri’s nose? I feel confused.

  “I wasn’t aiming for his nose,” I tell Henry.

  “What were you aiming for?” he asks.

  “Nothing. The middle of his face, I guess.”

  “That’s where the nose is, dummy.”

  I remember how it felt when my fist went into him. It wasn’t like in The Game. It was … I don’t know. Less big and bright and loud, but, like, more real. I slide down to the ground, my back to the pole, and start crying. Henry sits down next to me and tries to pat my back.

  “Hey, come on, what are you crying for? You act like it was you who got hurt.”

  But that’s exactly how I feel. Only it’s a hurt you can’t see, an inside hurt that pokes my stomach each time I remember how it felt when my fist went into Keri’s nose. And when I think of Daddy in the hospital, his bones broken on purpose by a cop.

  EIGHTEEN

  Laek

  I hear Philip’s voice move down the hall as he jokes with one of the nurses. I smile. Push myself up a little in bed. A spasm of pain rolls across my chest. I fall back, nauseous and shaky. No, this visit is a mistake. I look at the timer. Not at the clock. The hour is meaningless now. Twenty-four minutes. The time remaining before my next dose of M.

  When Janie and the doctor asked me if I felt up to visitors, I thought I’d finally get to see Simon. But both of them agreed it was too soon for that. Now I know they were right. How am I gonna hold it together for the next twenty-four minutes? And with a visitor watching, asking me how I am? Even Philip, who’s seen me when I’m not at my best.

  “Hey, Laek,” Philip says, holding up his fist. I tap it gently with my own. A wave of pain crashes down my right side. I make myself very still. Will my face to remain blank. After a moment, I glance at the timer. Twenty-three minutes.

  “How you doing?” he asks me, with an uncertain smile.

  I wipe my runny nose with my sleeve, not knowing how to answer. Philip chews on his lower lip. Looks at me again. I make an effort.

  “It’s good to see you, Phil.”

  “I would have come sooner. Right away, if I’d been allowed …”

  “No, better later. I wasn’t fit company. I’m still not, actually.” I smile to take the sting out. Try not to look at the timer again.

  “Don’t worry about it. You’re not here to entertain me. If anything, it’s the other way around … Everyone’s asking how you are.”

  “I guess you’ll tell them.” I’m now covered in sweat so I tug at my sheet.

  “Are you hot? Can we lower the temperature in here?”

  “Don’t bother. Three seconds from now I’ll be shivering. It’s just one of the symptoms. Of morphine withdrawal. Like the runny nose.” And my irritability.

  I look at the time again. Twenty-two minutes. Right on schedule, I start shivering. Philip helps me cover up again with the sheet. My muscles spasm. I curl up on my side. My breath comes short and quick and my trembling makes every nerve of my body vibrate with pain. If Philip wasn’t here, I could go away into my mind for a few minutes. But a small voice in my head, Janie’s voice I think, reminds me that this would not be a good idea. Even for a few minutes. The spasm passes. I push myself painfully onto my back again. Take some deeper breaths like the doctor told me. Phil’s hand is on my shoulder. He looks so upset.

  “I’m OK … I’m OK,” I say. I try to pull myself together. He checks the timer.

  “Couldn’t they … There’s only around twenty minutes to go. I could ask the doctors to give you the dose early.”

  “That would fuck it up.” I don’t want to snap at him like that but all of my bones and muscles ache. Not just the ribs, but the pain there is especially excruciating. This was a mistake. We should have timed the visit better. Twenty minutes.

  “I have something for you,” Philip says. “It’s a get-well card, from everyone at the school. It’s made of real fiber. There’s a handwritten message from each of us.” Philip holds the card up for me to see. It’s covered in handwriting.

  “Can I touch it?” He hands it to me. “You must have spent a fortune on this.”

  “It’s no big deal. The hard part was finding everyone to sign, with school out.”

  I look through what’s been written. “Where’s your message, Phil?”

  “Down here,” he points. “It’s in Spanish. Wouldn’t want you to get rusty.”

  I read: “El pueblo unido jamás será vencido.” The people united will never be defeated. Beside the message is a pen drawing of two fists touching inside a heart. It’s hard not to smile.

  I read through some of the other messages. It suddenly hits me that I’ll probably never see any of these people again. Not even Erin. Especially not Erin. I take a deep, shuddering breath as another crushing wave of pain goes through my body. I drop the card. I don’t see how I can even take it with me. It’s too big. My eyes fill with tears. I don’t let them spill. I try to fill my lungs with more air but it hurts too much.

  “Can I do anything for you, Laek?” he asks me gently. He’s placed the card on the table by my bed. Now his hand is suspended over my shoulder, like he’s afraid to touch me.

  “You have your knife, maybe?” I suck in some more air. “We could rub it across my throat a few times …” I press my fists against my eyes, waiting for the pain to pass.

  Philip doesn’t answer. After a few minutes, the wave recedes again. I take my fists away. Philip’s looking straight at me, unsmiling.

  “Don’t talk like that,” he says.

  I swallow. “I don’t with the doctor. Or with Janie. It would hurt her too much.”

  “I’m glad you feel that you can talk abo
ut killing yourself in front of me.” Philip’s voice is intentionally bland, but there’s an edge of anger too. I think I’ve hurt him.

  “I’m sorry, Phil. I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s OK.” He stands up and walks to the door, peers outside, then comes back and sits. “Look, say what you need to, get it out. Whatever you want to use me for, go ahead. I mean it. If I can do something for you that your doctor and Janie can’t, well, that’s why I’m here.”

  I feel ashamed. Philip looks at the timer again. I won’t look this time.

  “Listen, Laek, it’s not that much longer. Maybe you can take my hand, squeeze hard when the pain is bad. I know that probably sounds lame. But you could squeeze very, very hard. You won’t hurt me and maybe it could help you bear it a little.”

  In answer, I reach for his hand, squeeze with all my strength. I watch his face. He doesn’t flinch, though I know it must hurt. I couldn’t do this with Janie. I’d probably break her hand.

  “Squeeze back,” I tell him. “Just like I’m doing. Give back what you’re getting.” He does, and it pulls me out of the rest of my body. I concentrate on our hands, back and forth, back and forth, like a forceful message. We do this for a while, not speaking. I lose track of time, trying to live inside the rhythm of it. After a while, I look over at the timer and see the digit turn to zero. A rush of warm pleasure courses through my veins. I let my breath out slowly, my body heavy with relief.

  “Thank you. Next time … Next time you visit it’ll be better. I’ll even save you my lunch. I can’t hold it down, but I’m told it’s good quality for hospital food.”

  Philip gives me a small smile, but his face is tight with suppressed emotion. “If you really want to thank me, you’ll give me the name of the bastard who did this to you. Then I’ll find a use for my knife.”

  My pulse races. His anger seems barely under control. It warms and terrifies me.

  “No. Please, don’t even think about it. Promise me.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, he says, “As you wish.” This retreat into formality is reassuring. When Philip’s angry, it’s his way of signaling capitulation.