Gone Too Far West: The Complete Series

Excerpt from Gone Too Far West

6am: time to wake up the patients. An alarm that cuts through the bone is blasted out of hundreds of speakers dotted around the building. They drag themselves out of bed, with a little help from the nurses, brush their teeth and are all ushered to the showers. Freezing cold, as always.

The men pull on their blood-red overalls and make their way to the communal room at the end of their dorm. They’re surprised to see a circle of chairs in the middle of the room with a nurse stationed behind every one.

“Come in.” A tall male doctor with glasses and a long white lab coat gestures with his hands for them to sit down.

He’s the head of the ward, Doctor Harris, a man who is seldom seen wandering around, mixing with patients. Something big must be happening. He has an air of respect hanging around him. Quiet, but confident. Modest, yet conceited. A recluse, who nevertheless has a way with people.

With caution, the patients sit, twisting their necks to look up at the nurses behind them.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Doctor Harris reassures them, sensing their hesitation to join them in the circle. “We have a new, very interesting, patient joining us today. So, we thought we’d give him our biggest welcome.” He smiles.

It’s unsure whether his joyfulness and affection for the patients is genuine or not. But who cares? He has treated them better in these mere few moments than any of the nurses ever have.

One patient speaks out. “Who is he?”

“Well, I’m glad you asked that, Mehzah. He’ll be sharing a room with you!” Doctor Harris chirps.

Mehzah curses under his breath as some of the patients snigger at him. It’s a luxury to have your own room in a place like this, but very rare. It is said that Mehzah coaxed his last roommate into committing suicide so that he could have the room to himself. They questioned him but, quiet as always, he just stuck his many chins out at them. Nothing was conclusive.

“Now, now. I want you all to make him feel welcome, like he’s part of the family.”

Before anyone can mock the use of the word ‘family’, the double doors, windows covered with thick wire mesh, are swung open. A nervous-looking young man is escorted into the room by two nurses either side of him, each with a hand under his arms, just in case they need to drag him anywhere.

“Ah! Speak of the Devil. Everybody, this is your new friend, Len Moscow.” Doctor Harris introduces him to everybody.

Len looks around at all of the unamused and overly amused faces that stare back at him, making him even more nervous.

“Oh my God, Len! It’s such an honour to meet you!” Paul runs over to him, Gone Too Far West clutched in his shaking hand.

“Get a grip of yourself, sir,” Doctor Harris says to him in an unusually calm manner.

Paul drops his head and retreats backwards to where he stood before. A smirk forms across Len’s lips. He’s a celebrity!

Soon enough, he gains his confidence, greeting everyone individually, shaking hands, patting some patients on the shoulder as he chats. Len sits down on the last remaining chair and folds his right leg over the left, hands clasped tightly on his knee. He smiles. He’s quite happy with himself.

“So, Len. Welcome to George Lee’s hospital. We hope you will find your time here to be pleasant and worthwhile,” Doctor Harris starts, trying to make the stay sound voluntary.

“Thanks, thanks.” Len holds a hand up to wave to his subjects.

“Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?” As Doctor Harris says this, all of the nurses whip out their notepads and pens, ready to start when the klaxon sounds.

Ready. Set. Go.

“Hi, I’m Len, as you all know. I’m twenty years old, and I’m a murder suspect from Warrington.” A line that would not have gone down well if he’d been on a gameshow.

Paul makes sure to note this all down with his special navy-blue, tortoiseshell pen, inscribed with his name, that his mother bought him for Christmas: you never know, he thinks; if he solves the case, these precious notes might sell for a fortune in a few years’ time.

“A murder suspect, wow! What happened?” Mehzah’s eyes light up. Another of his kind.

“Well, it’s all a bit of a mix-up, really. You see…” he begins.

“It was a crazy year. I spent the whole time with my mates, Flic, Javan and Jenkies. Flic had this beautiful black ship called Black Beauty, which I had just been promoted to Captain of. I woke up one morning, I could hear my name being called. It was the crew. I emerged from underneath the deck to a raging storm. But not of wind and rain. Of cannonballs! We gave it our best effort to fight back, of course. But the ship was captured, by none other than Blackbeard himself! He had piercing blue eyes, sharper than his sword! Scars on his face were deeper than the ones he had made to our ship!”

By now, the nurses had removed the tips of their pens from the paper and instead watched him, irritatingly, dance around the circle, acting out his fantasies. Some of the patients follow him around with their wide-open eyes, yearning to hear what happens next.

“I couldn’t just stand there and watch my crew be killed. As soon as he stepped foot on my ship, I swung around the boat on one of the ropes and pierced him directly in the heart, through his back. He never saw me coming. I was hailed a hero by my shipmates and everyone else, but authorities saw it differently…”

“What happened to Black Beauty?” an older patient shouts to Len eagerly.

“I fixed it, of course. With my bare hands.” He holds them up for everyone to ogle over.

The old man, known only as Mr Lewis, reaches out a frail hand to connect his with Len’s.

“Eh! Look, don’t touch.” Len pulls his hand away.

Doctor Harris rolls his eyes quickly before anyone can see. “Alright. Well, I think that’s enough for today…” He glances at the nurses. “Mehzah, why don’t you show Len to your room and give him a quick tour of the facilities. Introduce him to some more of the patients.” He walks over to the big nurse, the one who physically enforces the rules of the institute and they whisper to each other.

This nurse, we have met before. The harsh, obese woman called Mrs Hunning. Known to patients as Atilla the Hun. She is strict and unforgiving, and in no way shy about it. That’s why they hired her.

She steps forward, presenting herself to the circle of the forgotten.

“Right, you ‘eard the man! Everyone else get to your usual business!”