Flux by Mark R. Faulkner Read Free Book Online

success, the two twig like stalks that used to be his legs couldn’t support his body and he sat back down with a thump.
    Determined not to be beaten, they tried for a second time. Ed stood close, facing Iain and taking both of his hands, pulled as Iain tried to straighten his legs. Eventually, he levered himself upright. He was standing, albeit very shakily and still clutching Ed’s hands.
    “Excellent; well done.” To Iain, Ed sounded patronising but he didn’t mind, being all too pleased to have stood on his own two feet.
    “Will be nice to be walking again,” mumbled Iain.
    “One step at a time, pardon the pun. Haha.”
    After carefully lowering Iain back onto the bed, Ed made his exit. “Remember your exercises and I’ll see you day after tomorrow,” he said, already halfway out of the door as if he had more pressing business to attend to.

    Doctor Goodman also seemed pleased with his recovery, telling him often how well he was doing. She asked on more than one occasion whether he had experienced any strange symptoms and Iain always responded in the negative, saying that he was feeling better every day; which in many respects, he was.
    Secretly, Rebecca Goodman was disappointed. There had been no recurrences of speaking in tongues or even any seizures or convulsions. Obviously, she would never admit to it openly, and did allow herself a small congratulation for another job well done but she really had hoped to be able to write her paper on a unique case and make some kind of name for herself in medical circles.

    Iain thought it best not to mention the bad dreams which had started to disturb him in the depths of the night; and as for the voice, well, that would remain his little secret; as would anything else which might keep him in hospital for any longer than was absolutely necessary.
    Then, one day, weeks later and seemingly out of the blue, came the news that he’d been hoping for. Dr Goodman was happy with his progress and stated that as soon as Iain could walk without fear of slumping into a heap, he could be released to return home. The following week he doubled his efforts on the task in hand, often swinging himself out of bed when left on his own and with no major mishaps, felt almost ready. His final task was to prove it.
    “I can walk!” he argued with Ed on the physiotherapist’s final visit.
    Ed disappeared from the room to return a few minutes later with a pair of sticks.
    “There you go then, let's see you strut your stuff,” he said, handing him the sticks.
    Using them for support, he slowly lifted himself from the bed and hesitantly at first, made his way towards the door which still stood open. His confidence increasing with every step, Iain exited the room and propelled himself down to the end of the hall. Almost doing a pirouette, he turned and made his way back. Returning to his bed, he sat himself down on the edge and tried not to appear as tired as he felt.
    “Told you I could do it!” he exclaimed triumphantly, a grin spreading across his face.
    “That truly is excellent, I’ll be happy to sign you off when you have a little more strength and balance.”
    Iain couldn’t have been more pleased but did feel slightly disappointed that he still had to wait. It would be a further two weeks of hard work and practice until he finally got the news he wanted.

Chapter Eight
    Going Home

    “I’m going to need some clothes.”
    “Why?” It was a bad connection and the voice on the other end of the phone was quiet.
    “They’re letting me out!”
    “You’re coming home? Fuckin’ A.”
    “Yes, can you bring me some?”
    “Some what?”
    Maybe calling Gary for help had been a bad idea, but he couldn’t think of anyone else apart from Dave, and he was worse.
    “CLOTHES! You spanner.”
    “But I ‘aint got a key for your flat.”
    “Bring me some of yours.”
    “They won’t fit.”
    “Then bring a belt too.”
    “When do you need them by?”
    “Tomorrow morning at the