Kingdom of Tears

Kingdom Of Tears

Steven Ward

Other Titles by Steven Ward:-

Chorus Of The Dead

For Mum and Dad

For your strength

Copyright © Steven A. Ward 2014

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

Chapter One

Sleep was barely hidden when Jason woke with a start. His mother was laying coffee down on the table next to his bed. The curtains were pulled to, but the sunlight still entered the room like a vast alien invasion. He felt like hell. He always did in the morning. His eyes felt as if sulphuric acid had been thrown into them and had already began dissolving his retinas.

What’s up with your brother? His mother asked.

Groggy as ever in those early hours of the morning, he did not answer.

I asked you what’s up with your brother? She repeated more adamantly.

Huh, how should I know? Why?

Your dad took him his coffee just now, but he wouldn’t wake up. Was he drinking again last night?

No, not that I know of, he felt the cold air nip at his bare chest as he pulled the duvet up higher to his neck.

Jason reached over and took the hot cup of coffee in his hands. He held his eyes shut for a moment and then opened them again.

Anyway, what do you mean wouldn’t wake up?

Your father shook him, he just wouldn’t wake up. He just carried on sleeping.

Don’t worry I’ll wake him up in a minute.

He took a sip of the coffee. It burnt the taste buds in his mouth. He glanced over at the clock. Two minutes past seven.

Has he been taking any drugs again? She demanded.

Of course not.

He tried to remember if he had looked stoned at all. Nothing.

Well your dad’s left for work without him, so you better get him up. He’s already late as it is.

Yeah, yeah alright.

He was not really bothered; Andrew was famous for his hangovers and often skipped work.

Jason sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled the curtains a little way open. The light dazzled him. It was clear outside and the dogs could be heard yapping next door. Huge power lines loomed in the empty field at the back of the house.

He recalled Andrew and himself listening to music before they went to bed but there was no booze to drink, so he could not have been drunk. He stood and felt a chill. He grasped a black T-shirt off of the floor and pulled it over his head.

Jason staggered into the hallway still under the influence of sleep. He went

into the next room and closed the door behind him. The bathroom, his saviour in the morning. He urinated and stared at himself in the mirror. God, he looked like shit. The stubble was rampant and his hair travelled in every direction except the one he wanted it to.

He unlocked the door and met his mother again in the passage.

Well, are you going to wake him then or what? She said impatiently.

He did not answer. He just walked through the bottom lounge into the bedroom.

God, it’s dark in here.

His eyes had to acclimatize. It was as if it had suddenly become night. He drew back the curtains to reveal a small window with a view of the neighbour’s brick wall. A decorator’s nightmare. Posters of all of his heavy metal heroes stared down on the bed. He wore black shorts with a red trim and his ‘Slayer’ T-shirt.

Come on fat git, wake up. Jason said lazily.

Nothing. Not even a murmur.

You can’t get out of it that easily, come on, Jason yawned.

His mother entered the room behind him.

Did you try and shake him yet?

I think your dad did.

Jason noticed the milky layer on top of the cold coffee.

Andrew lay on his right side with his legs curled up under him.

Come on Andrew!

Jason started to panic and shook him. Andrew groaned.

Thank God, he thought, at least he’s alive.

How come he’s on top of the bed? Jason frowned.

Look over there, next to him, he’s thrown up hasn’t he?

Looks like it, he could smell it in the air too.

It looked like snot or sperm.

Come on Andy, Jason shook him harder.

Still nothing. No movement at all.

Jason sat on the bed and pulled Andrew to him. He held back like he did not want to roll over. Jason just pulled harder at him. There was a large amount of vomit under where his body lay mixed with a small amount of blood.

Jason panicked. His breath seemed to crawl into the darkest corners of his lungs. He noticed that where his T-shirt was rolled up over his stomach that he was breathing. He looked at his eyelids. There was no movement like he was dreaming.

With his right hand he opened an eyelid.

His pupils stared. Large, black voids.

Confusion.

There was blood on his hair. His long brown hair was matted in it.

Jason stared.

He felt a shortness of breath.

Terror.

Something black protruded from his temple. He touched it. It had scratches down its surface and silver metal showed through the black paint. It was short, not even two centimetres long.

Then it clicked.

He knew what it was.

He looked up and saw the pistol sized crossbow on the shelf. A muffled scream died in his throat. He turned his head and his mother immediately saw the terror in his eyes.

What, what is it? She screamed.

Get the phone!

What’s wrong? Her voice trembled.

Get the bloody phone. Call the ambulance.

What’s wrong? She was petrified.

He’s shot himself. Get it, get it now!

She ran out of the room. Screaming, screaming down the hallway.

Jason turned to Andrew again.

Come on Andrew, you’re alright. Come on you’re going to be okay. Come on wake up. Wake up Andrew.

He looked down again and saw his stomach rise and fall as he took another breath. Jason still heard the screaming coming through the house. The blood curdling screams. They almost unhinged him.

Tears brimmed but dammed.

Jason stood up and ran back into his bedroom. He ripped his duvet from his bed. Back into the bedroom he ran. He lifted him forward. He was in a sitting position. Jason swung the double duvet around him. He positioned himself behind him with both legs outstretched. He moved rhythmically back and forth with him held in his arms. Rocking him like a baby.

Screams still echoed.

Why, why? Andrew, why? Screeched the voice.

Come on Andrew, you’ll be alright, Jason said You’ll be alright, you don’t want to die. Come on Goddamn, live!

Jason noticed his reflection in the mirror holding his brother tight.

I love you Andrew, come on don’t die.

The screaming had stopped. Jason thought that he had better check on it. He lay Andrew on his left side and ran through to the other lounge. His mother had the black portable phone and was sniffling and babbling incoherently.

Give it to me. Jason said.

She held onto it.

Come on God, she moaned, My baby.

Give it here! Jason shouted.

He lifted the phone to his ear. It was dead.

What’s the number?

She trembled and cried.

What’s the bloody number?

Nine, nine...nine, her voice quivered.

She ran off down the passage, obviously to the bedroom.

He dialled.

The line went dead.

He frantically dialled again.

Engaged.

He dialled the flying squad.

An African voice answered.

You’ve got to help me, my brother, he’s been shot.

Eh, hello, the voice said.

Can you hear me, I need help!

Yes, the calm African voice said, Give me your address, he said just as calm.

Seventy-six Brabant Road, Freeway Park.

Eh, Seventy...Eh, what was it?

Seventy-six Brabant Road, Freeway Park! He began to anger.

Eh, Seventy...six...Breban Road...

Jason switched the phone off and on again. He dialled the fire brigade.

Fire station hello, a more intelligible voice answered.

Yes, hello. I need help. My brother, he’s been shot.

Okay calm down son, what’s your address?

It’s Seventy-six Brabant Road, Freeway Park.

The fireman repeated the address. Jason’s mother ran through the room screaming and crying. Opening the front door, she ran out into the street. There was no time to chase after her. Andrew was his prime concern.

Okay we’ll be there in a few minutes, just stay calm and look after him until we’re there.

The phone clicked down.

Jason threw the phone down on the lounge suite and dashed back down to Andrew. He still appeared to be the same. He went back into his bedroom and pulled off his sleeping shorts and exchanged them for jeans.

He grabbed a pair of boots and went back to Andrew. For some unknown reason, he left him and went into the bathroom. There he brushed his teeth. He went back and climbed onto the bed and held Andrew, being careful not to bump the arrow.

Alright Andy, the ambulance is on its way, he tried to fight back the tears. They’ll be here any minute now.

He looked back over at the mirror again.

As if talking to himself he said, Why didn’t you tell me Andy. For God’s sake you could’ve told me.

The small window let the curious world peer in. Cruel world.

Jason listened for the ambulance. He heard nothing. He never thought that he could feel so small and insignificant. Vertigo seemed to fill the room.

Seconds felt like minutes, like hours, like days. He could hear the neighbourhood dogs barking and the flow of traffic outside of the house.

The only thing he could not pick up was his mother’s voice. He tried to keep a handle on things but it seemed so pointless and insane.

The room smelt like vomit and bile. He realised the white sperm-like substance must have been some form of brain fluid. He wondered why there was not more blood. In the movies he would have been soaked from head to toe. He realised that the arrow was tapered and must have plugged the hole.

Andrew, Goddamn it!

Why him? He felt anger and fear. Adrenalin surged through his veins like a runaway freight train. He looked at his watch. Three minutes. It felt like three years.

Where were they? He thought, where were they?

Fear began to make his body tremble, but he could not lose control. He was so scared though. The cold did not seem to bother him any more, yet mist still escaped his mouth. His senses were alive. Smells, sounds, memories, they all flooded in like a burst dam.

Finally, he became sick of the wait. He rested Andrew back down again and left the room. As he came to the lounge his heart jumped. Two men were coming through the front door. Paramedics. They rushed up to him. He noticed his mother coming back through the front door. She had obviously flagged them down from the front of the house.

Where to? One of them asked.

Down the passage, last bedroom!

In a way he had never been so happy to see anybody in his life as he was now, although he wished he had never needed them. They stormed by. He saw the petrified look on his mothers face. He felt the same. He felt nauseous. He wished he could wake up from the nightmare. He turned and followed them.

They pushed the couches out of the way in the bottom lounge before his bedroom. Jason did not understand why but followed closely. The first paramedic through the door climbed onto the bed to examine him. The second set his bag on the floor and unzipped it.

He saw the paramedic check Andrew’s windpipe. The other on the floor was pulling an oxygen mask from his bag and attaching it to a tank.

Any hypoxia? The one on the floor asked.

No, his breathing seems normal, he answered as he shone a small torch into Andrew’s eyes. Pupils fully dilated though. No retraction.

The second climbed onto the bed and applied the oxygen mask to his face.

Careful there’s the penetration, the first said, pointing out the arrow.

They both turned their heads and looked at Jason. Then they turned back to the matter at hand.

The elastic on the mask caught the end of the shaft but he was quick to pull it over. The first paramedic climbed back off the bed and unzipped his bag. From it he pulled a syringe and a small vial of liquid. He drew about twenty milligrams of the substance from the vial.

Jason heard something in the front room. Maybe there was something wrong with his mother. He left the bedroom. Another three emergency personnel stormed down the hallway. He moved out of their way. They moved the rest of the furniture that was obstructing the entrance hall. Jason moved past them to the front lounge. He saw the last one bring in a stretcher. Behind him he could hear a walkie-talkie.

We’re going to need an air lift, he heard come from the bedroom.

As he entered the front room he saw his mother, still with worry in her eye.

Static crackled from the radios the emergency personnel carried. Another two men entered the room. He looked through the large front window that almost stretched the full length of the lounge. Outside he saw an ambulance parked in the driveway with its rear facing the house. Its wide double doors were open.

Two emergency cars were parked in front of it. Towards the road he noticed traffic police with two of their vehicles. Another two policemen entered the front door.

Jason feeling restless and lost returned to the bottom bedroom. The three paramedics stood in the lounge outside waiting anxiously. As he entered he noticed Andrew’s arm was pumped to count the blood pressure. He had four blue electrodes attached to his chest, but no wires.

Hold this will you? The paramedic closest asked Jason.

He was bewildered and disorientated. The paramedic was holding the needle of an intravenous drip in the recess of Andrew’s arm. Jason bent down.

Just hold the needle there while I tape it! He said firmly.

He felt useful. He was gaining control of himself again. He felt like he was doing something to help his brother. He held the needle still but it felt as if Andrew was pulling his arm back. He had to fight to hold it still. The other paramedic was holding the oxygen mask in place. The paramedic taped the drip and tube to Andrew’s arm.

Okay, we’re going to have to move him now, the man looked into Jason’s eyes, Do you think you could hold the mask for us while we get him onto the stretcher.

Jason nodded.

He held onto the mask and tried to hold the air tube out of the way while the two men lifted him onto the stretcher. It was not easy as he was over six-foot tall. More static crackled over the radio.

One of the emergency men entered the room.

The chopper’s ready, he announced. Should I get the road cleared?

Yep, where is it, at the station?

Yeah, there’s no staff here in town. They’ll take him into the city.

Great!

The man left again and spoke to the traffic policeman standing by.

The two paramedics lifted the stretcher and began to move out of the room. Jason tried to squeeze in next to them to carry on holding the mask and tank of air. They moved swiftly down the passage towards the front of the house.

One of the other emergency men took the tank from Jason and secured the mask. They made it out of the front door with some difficulty. Jason followed.

His mother was standing by and turned to him.

You’d better phone your dad and tell him what’s happened. I’m going with him, she said in a state of teary confusion.

Where to? He asked.

The fire station, a choppers going to take us from there. You’d better phone work too.

He saw the stretcher being loaded into the back of the ambulance. A paramedic stood inside and pulled it up. The policemen climbed into their cars and started their flashing lights to halt the flow of traffic. His mother climbed into the ambulance and the doors shut behind her. All of the emergency men pulled off in their vehicles. Jason heard the sirens blaring down the road as they sped off.

He went back inside and picked up the phone. He dialled his father. His boss picked up the phone.

Trying to sound stable he said, Hello, Jannie could I speak to Bill please?

Yes, sure just hang on.

There was a pause. He could hear all of the machinery in the background.

He heard shouting above the noise but he could not make out what it was. He began to feel the cold again.

Hello? came his father’s voice.

Hi dad, it’s Jason. You better come home right now. Andrew’s been shot, but he’s alright, just get here now okay?

What do you mean he’s been shot? The worry was apparent in his shaky voice.

I’ll explain just now, just get here as soon as you can.

He hung up.

He dialled again and swallowed hard. It rang for a while and then picked up. He asked the receptionist if he could speak to Andrew’s boss. He was told to hold. When he came on he was overly concerned and told him he would help in any way possible. After Jason hung up he went back into Andrew’s bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

Chapter Two

He shook with cold or perhaps the shock setting in. He noticed that the paramedics had left one bag behind. He lifted it onto the bed to examine the contents. Inside were more of the blue electrodes, various transparent creams and two needles. He decided that he would have to give them it back later. He knew his father would take about twenty minutes to get home so he decided to brew some tea. He set the bag down and looked again about the room. The bed by now was a total mess. The gunge that he had thought to be vomit was now dried and had a brittle appearance. He looked up at the crossbow and tried to understand.

He went to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. Staring out of the window, he noticed he had never paid as much attention to detail as he was now. He hated the power lines that ran across the outside field. If they were not there the chopper could have landed in it and made a speedier rescue. Not that it made a difference; Andrew was going to be okay anyway. He looked at his watch, only a few minutes had ticked by.

The kettle began to boil. He watched the steam but let it carry on boiling. It clicked off automatically. Finally, he poured out a cup. He took it back down to the bedroom and again sat on the bed. The dark clinker brick did not help in lightening his mood. He wanted to break everything, to smash everything he saw. It was no good; it would not help the situation. He stared up at the crossbow and tried to understand how it had gotten back onto the shelf.

If Andrew had shot himself, how could he have put it back? Impossible. He pictured him standing beside the shelf pulling the trigger. Letting loose the arrow, shattering his cranium and burying itself deep into his brain. Then, still having the time to set the bow down before losing control of his senses and falling to the bed. The agony he must have suffered. When did he do it? What time?

He had been with him until they had gone to bed. He was not depressed or anything. For God’s sake it was pay-day. He was always happy on pay-day; he would have been pissing it up that night. How could he have?

Shit! Jason let out a cry.

He took a sip of the tea. He had heard somewhere that it helps in a shock situation. This was without a doubt one of those situations. He would have liked to believe that it was not suicide, although he still was unsure how he had done it, but he knew that he had tried it before. Just over a year ago, in his bedroom as well. Only, nothing as drastic as now. How could life be so bad?

He remembered that phone call from the hospital at two in the morning. It was midwinter, absolutely freezing. They said that they had better come down to the hospital as soon as possible.

He had cut his wrists. Not just a razor slit though. He had used a dagger and had dug a deep trench in his wrist. Only that time he was drunk. There was hell to pay. He almost lost the use of his arm, but obviously he did not care. If it was not for the fact that it was so damn cold he would have bled to death.

Jason should have been used to this by now. His whole family should have been used to it by now but nothing ever prepares a person for that kind of shock. He had thought Andrew was over it, but obviously