Dead Man's Eye

Joanna froze. “Why, what did he say?”

“Not much. Just asked if I knew you and where you lived.”

The blood froze in Joanna’s veins, she felt her heart pound within her chest.

“So what’s going on.”

“What’s going on? I wish I knew.” She stared around the living room of her one bedroom apartment. Photographs decorated the walls, black and white portraits taken when her sight wasn’t as bad. She liked to think she captured the subjects’ essence in the shots, trying to make them as natural as possible. The wrinkles on a pensioner’s face a map of time. A young girl, head thrown back as she laughed – looking at the photograph usually made Joanna smile, as though she could hear the laughter, but not today. Today she felt cold inside and she shivered.

“You’re starting to scare me now. Did the doctor at the hospital tell you something that you’re not telling me?”

“No, he said everything’s fine.”

“Then what is it?”

“I was trying to tell you. It’s that man, the one who lost his arm. Well, I saw something, something strange. When he lost his arm, I saw, I don’t know, another limb sticking out from where his arm should have been.”

Stephen frowned. “A what?”

“I don’t know. A sort of limb.”

“You probably imagined it. Hell, you’d just seen a man lose his arm. That’s enough to freak anyone out.”

“I didn’t imagine it.”

“Well what other explanation could there be?”

Joanna licked her lips. “I think there’s something wrong with the transplant.”

“Did you mention it to the doctor?”

Joanna shook her head.

“Well don’t you think you should have?”

“I don’t know. I was scared he would think I was, you know, crazy.”

“No crazier than anyone else.” He winked. “So why’d you run out of the hospital?”

“Because I saw it again, that ghost limb thing when I saw Lincoln in the corridor. The first time, yes, I might have imagined it, but twice!”

“Have you thought that seeing the man again made you see it? That the sight of him triggered the shock from the accident and that you’re, I don’t know, imprinting an arm where there isn’t one to disguise the horror of what you’d seen.”

“So now you’re Doctor Freud. I know what I saw.”

“You think you know what you saw. That’s the point I’m trying to make. Just because you saw it, it doesn’t make it real.”

Joanna didn’t like Stephen’s train of thought anymore than her own as it implied that she wasn’t in control of her own mind. That there was nothing wrong with her transplant, and that she really was going mad.

She stood up and walked across the room towards the small, claustrophobia-inducing kitchen, stopping at the window to draw the curtains on the encroaching darkness.

Before she pulled the material across, she looked down at the road below. The streetlight opposite shone a dull orange, highlighting the figure leaning nonchalantly against the post; a figure she instantly recognised as Lincoln Parker. The light overhead threw shadows around his feet, but they seemed to dance as though alive.

Lincoln waved his spectral limb in her direction and Joanna screamed and backed away from the window.

“Jo, what’s the matter,” Stephen asked as he rushed to her side.

“He’s out there. The man with one arm. He’s outside.”

“That’s impossible. He lost too much blood to have been released yet.”

“Then why don’t you go tell him that.” She turned and pointed outside, only as she secretly feared, there was no one there.

CHAPTER 4

“So you’re sure Lincoln Parker didn’t leave the hospital last night,” Stephen asked.“Positive. The man was on enough sedative to knock out a horse. Why, what’s the matter?”

Stephen looked at the staff nurse and shrugged. “Oh nothing really.” He stared into the room where Lincoln sat eating his breakfast, his large bulk propped up against a stack of pillows on the bed. He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t look like the same upbeat man he had spoken to outside the lift the day before. “Is it okay if I have a word with him?”

The nurse pulled a quizzical expression. “I guess so.”

Nodding his thanks, Stephen walked into the room and stood at the foot of Lincoln’s bed. “Hey,” he said.

Lincoln looked up. Despite his missing arm, his bulk gave him a powerful demeanour. He peered at Stephen with piercing blue eyes. “You a doctor?”

“No, just a receptionist.”

“Well I would offer you a chair, but as you can see, I’ve got my hand full.” He lifted the fork to his mouth to shovel down some more of his dinner.

Stephen stared at the stump where Lincoln’s arm should be and felt a twinge of discomfort.

“So what do you want, some more details about me for your records?”

Stephen shook his head. “No, nothing like that. Do you remember yesterday, that girl you were asking me about?”

Lincoln frowned and lowered his fork. “I may have lost an arm, but I haven’t lost my marbles. I’ve never seen you before, never mind asked you about any girl. I think romance is pretty far down my agenda at the moment.”

“It was late yesterday. You were being moved back to your room. A girl came up to you. You might remember her from the train station, when, you know… She said you sat next to her on the platform.”

“Oh, her. Yeah. I saw her yesterday. Cute little thing. Black hair. Nice body. She was talking to me and then…” He stared up at the ceiling and chewed his lower lip. “Damned if I can remember really.”

“Well she ran off after talking to you.”

Lincoln shook his head. “Guess she didn’t like me that much then.” He grinned, but the expression looked pained.

“Do you know why she ran off?”

Lincoln shook his head.” Guess I’m not the hunk I thought I was. Why, what’s it matter?”

Stephen didn’t really know what to say. “Nothing really.”

“Matters enough for you to come and question me.”

“I’m worried about her, that’s all.”

“And that’s got something to do with me, because…?”

“This is going to sound really stupid, but when you had your, erm, accident, she thought she saw, I don’t know, a phantom arm where you lost yours.”

Lincoln pulled a face. “Are you taking the piss?” He jabbed the fork in the air as if emphasising the words.

“No, of course not. Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. Forget it.”

“Too right I’m gonna forget it. Now get the fuck out of here before I call someone.”

Stephen felt himself blush. “Look, I’m really sorry.” He turned and quickly walked out of the room.

He knew it was a stupid idea to confront Lincoln. Now he wished he hadn’t done it.

Lincoln watched the receptionist leave the room and slammed his fork onto the wheeled tray set over the bed, making it rattle. With a sweep of his arm, he sent his dinner flying across the room. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate without some nut job questioning him. The freak probably didn’t even work at the hospital. Was