Infinite Rooms: a gripping psychological thriller that follows one man's descent into madness by David John Griffin Page A
Authors: David John Griffin
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swift one before I pick her up. Give it another three quarters of an hour. It’ll do my headache good anyhow. I don’t think the market shuts until half eight; and I’ll be on this train for a while longer. Mine’s the usual when you’re ready.’
Raucous laughter, someone sobbing with tears of mirth and slapping their thigh. Every table top invisible under a layer of glass jugs, plates, snack packets. You’ve put your pint away pretty smartish for a doctor. Another quick one then. A hyena cackle, bubbling murmurs, whooping buoyant airs. These shaking heads, those nodding ones. Hyena for a second timethen a trumpeting elephant. Baboons still rock in the corner; a whinnying horse or should it be a seahorse? If I drink quickly there should be no worries. With clicking dominoes and thudding darts into the board, this is becoming a bit hazy. Congealing into one growling babble. Riff-raff are jostling me. Try as I might I can’t gain any enjoyment from watching the darts players though I’ll take one of their sandwiches on offer. Tastes of puffed mush. Look, someone’s drunk my beer by accident, already it’s finished. One more hop-bittersweet frothing pint, just to round off the evening, shouldn’t matter. The anchor bolted to the oak panelling is sliding down, I’m convinced. If I was to use my imagination more, I’d persuade myself we’re not in a bar of the Neptune Hotel in a train carriage but inside of a whale. If only I could focus enough to see the time from the clock above the fruit machine. It’s registered, beer equals doctor, both dissolve barriers. These stupid false memories barging in, beginning to create inebriated tears. Quickly dismiss them. Let them percolate through this zoo, the babbling mixture with flashing teeth and chinking glasses, while everyone is treading into puddles. Maybe it’s their drinks slopped to the floorboards. But it can’t be, the pools have quickly joined and the drinkers stand or sit in two inches of water. Not that anyone seems concerned, they continue their raucous banter. Glimmering water has risen more; it’s level with their knees and fast rising still. This liquid of the fourth pint has rendered my face numb. Water laps at the table edges. Splashes when hit with a drop of the arm or sharpmovement of the hand. A bottle of beer bobbing past. There’s the barman, quite unconcerned, taking money from a customer and casually wiping slops from the counter. Now holding tongs clutching ice cubes but strangely at the other end of the bar now, pulling on a pump again. And the gabbling and gossiping goes on, the waffling and singing, heavy drone of a million flies in this deceptive room; clapping hands, insidious ale still poured down their forgiving throats, the subterraneans unaware of the communal bath rippling about their necks. And this chilly water has taken feeling from my arm. I must try to move it though progress is sluggish as the whole of me has been reduced to slow motion. But there at last, as dregs of ale run from the bottom of the glass, the waters have reached the dusty ceiling and completely covers all. And there’s time enough to watch a ponderously moving crowd with sounds muffled and echoing, bubble streams rising from their noses. Mark them move like sea plants wafted by currents before the vile taste of salt-bitter liquid rushes down my gullet, making me want to vomit. ‘Excuse me,’ I must insist as I swim through these smirking crowds, plastering a hand across my mouth as stomach heaves, turning over like a cement mixer, threatening to eject its contents. ‘Excuse me,’ as I sway up to the pub entrance which is rippling in that unnatural way underwater…
‘Excuse me.’
8
C lement’s eyes sprang open. A young mother was leaning toward him.
‘Would you be so kind?’ she asked, flicking her sight in the direction of the train window. Heating from below the carriage seats was becoming stifling.
‘Yes, of course.’
He stood and put
Raucous laughter, someone sobbing with tears of mirth and slapping their thigh. Every table top invisible under a layer of glass jugs, plates, snack packets. You’ve put your pint away pretty smartish for a doctor. Another quick one then. A hyena cackle, bubbling murmurs, whooping buoyant airs. These shaking heads, those nodding ones. Hyena for a second timethen a trumpeting elephant. Baboons still rock in the corner; a whinnying horse or should it be a seahorse? If I drink quickly there should be no worries. With clicking dominoes and thudding darts into the board, this is becoming a bit hazy. Congealing into one growling babble. Riff-raff are jostling me. Try as I might I can’t gain any enjoyment from watching the darts players though I’ll take one of their sandwiches on offer. Tastes of puffed mush. Look, someone’s drunk my beer by accident, already it’s finished. One more hop-bittersweet frothing pint, just to round off the evening, shouldn’t matter. The anchor bolted to the oak panelling is sliding down, I’m convinced. If I was to use my imagination more, I’d persuade myself we’re not in a bar of the Neptune Hotel in a train carriage but inside of a whale. If only I could focus enough to see the time from the clock above the fruit machine. It’s registered, beer equals doctor, both dissolve barriers. These stupid false memories barging in, beginning to create inebriated tears. Quickly dismiss them. Let them percolate through this zoo, the babbling mixture with flashing teeth and chinking glasses, while everyone is treading into puddles. Maybe it’s their drinks slopped to the floorboards. But it can’t be, the pools have quickly joined and the drinkers stand or sit in two inches of water. Not that anyone seems concerned, they continue their raucous banter. Glimmering water has risen more; it’s level with their knees and fast rising still. This liquid of the fourth pint has rendered my face numb. Water laps at the table edges. Splashes when hit with a drop of the arm or sharpmovement of the hand. A bottle of beer bobbing past. There’s the barman, quite unconcerned, taking money from a customer and casually wiping slops from the counter. Now holding tongs clutching ice cubes but strangely at the other end of the bar now, pulling on a pump again. And the gabbling and gossiping goes on, the waffling and singing, heavy drone of a million flies in this deceptive room; clapping hands, insidious ale still poured down their forgiving throats, the subterraneans unaware of the communal bath rippling about their necks. And this chilly water has taken feeling from my arm. I must try to move it though progress is sluggish as the whole of me has been reduced to slow motion. But there at last, as dregs of ale run from the bottom of the glass, the waters have reached the dusty ceiling and completely covers all. And there’s time enough to watch a ponderously moving crowd with sounds muffled and echoing, bubble streams rising from their noses. Mark them move like sea plants wafted by currents before the vile taste of salt-bitter liquid rushes down my gullet, making me want to vomit. ‘Excuse me,’ I must insist as I swim through these smirking crowds, plastering a hand across my mouth as stomach heaves, turning over like a cement mixer, threatening to eject its contents. ‘Excuse me,’ as I sway up to the pub entrance which is rippling in that unnatural way underwater…
‘Excuse me.’
8
C lement’s eyes sprang open. A young mother was leaning toward him.
‘Would you be so kind?’ she asked, flicking her sight in the direction of the train window. Heating from below the carriage seats was becoming stifling.
‘Yes, of course.’
He stood and put
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