Chapter 13 – We all had our reasons…

That night the nameless guy woke up. Jackson was dozing on the inflatable sofa when the man sat up screaming.

“Dude?” Asked Jackson, startled, “Chill-out-dude-It’s-Ok.” He said in a rush.

The nameless man looked at Jackson and blinked. His body was awash with pain. His back, legs and arms were badly bruised and he was sure that he had cracked several ribs. His head span and for a moment he sank back into the endless dreaming.

The nameless man came too again and looked once more at Jackson. “I am injured.” He said plainly. “I will need to rest before I can continue.”

“I’d say,” said Jackson, “you look like death.”

The nameless man said nothing.

Jackson watched the man lie back down again. Before he asked: “Is there anything you need, man?”

“I’m hungry.” Said the man. “Very Hungry.”

“Here!” said Jackson throwing the man a packet of crisps, “we haven’t got much in at the moment. There’s some coke if you want some.”

“Yes please.” Said the man.

“Diet or regular?” Asked Jackson.

“Regular.” Said the man with a hint of disappointment.

Jackson handed the man a warm coke and said: “Angel’s in the other room.”

“Who?” Asked the man.

“Angelina. The girl that’s been with us.” Said Jackson.

The nameless guy nodded. Something half memory half idea flooded his mind and he blurted: “I’m Luke.”

“I’m Jackson,” said Jackson and then wondered why he said it, “Pleased to know your name,” he added, “at last.”

Angelina sat in the room next-door reading the reports in no particular order. Large portions of them made little sense and huge amounts lacked any real context.

The term “reduced serotonin” seemed common but she had little idea as to the possible meaning beyond some vague references to the human brain and complicated references to “circadian rhythms”.

Many of the reports mentioned “increased levels of adrenaline” which she imagined must be a constant rush of excitement not unlike toying with a dangerously drunken man in a situation where she might not be able to get away.

She had discovered that the company knew of a virus that would enhance the victim’s senses before it killed them causing an increase in the density of particular nerve endings and something called “hyper-dilation of the iris” and “mild inflammation of the sclera” which sounded quite painful.

She also discovered that the company had experimented repeatedly with using the virus as a cure of one kind or another. However, it seemed that these experiments ended abruptly, often with chaotic and confusing notes filled with hysteria. One writer ranted for almost a page and a half at the end of an otherwise dull file about the devil invading his offices.

The virus it seemed had been bad luck for everyone who encountered it.

She picked up another report. This one seemed to contain a lot more technical-language and was heavy reading. It seemed to focus on “changes in the nature of the telomers” caused in main by the virus and mentioned notable cases of extreme psychosomatic responses to a range of stimuli; most of what she was reading might as well have been in French.

Without thinking, Angelina reached for the cigarette packet and pulled a long black menthol from the pack. She lit it and inhaled deeply as she read on, making few notes but little sense of most of the document. It had gone on to discuss: “Erythropoietic Protoporphyria and miscellaneous photoallergic reactions”.

It was all completely alien to her but she kept on anyway. Somewhere in all this, there might be the hint of a clue that might bring her a great story and perhaps some fame.

Jackson had given Luke what he could to help sate the man’s hunger and now there was very little food in the house. The cigarette stash seemed woefully short too.

Sooner or later, thought Jackson, it will be back to the rollies for me.

His mind shifted track as if prompted from out side and Jackson thought about the fireplace – it was cold in her. It was dark now and most of the people at the lab complex would be home by now. Jackson wondered why that might be significant and then realised that this meant he could light a fire.

Jackson helped Luke up the stairs to the bathroom before hastily assembling the wood for a nighttimes worth of fire fuel and only stopping when the inner voice prompted him to. Then he lit the fire, guided by this new voice.

Jackson settled down to sleep properly only when Angelina came to the front room, having finally given up with the reports for the night. She was utterly frustrated by the cold and poor light, which made complex reports all the more challenging. They bedded down together for the warmth and the company.

Angelina felt safe and secure held by this patient guy who did not keep “putting moves on her”.

Jackson felt elated at Angelina’s company and presence close to him. He had never been this close to a female before and it thrilled him. Angelina had loosened her clothing in order to sleep more comfortably and Jackson awoke several times to look at her partly exposed body as she slept.

He longed to undress her completely and lay awake for hours at a time lost in thought and desire. When he did sleep, it was from exhaustion and not from any natural desire to sleep.

Jackson awoke before it was light to the sound of a car breaking and skidding. He waited for the sickening crunch that usually followed but there was none.

Outside Paul cursed loudly as he overshot the mark and had to reveres before entering the car park.

The results would now be available and he did not want to wait any long to find out what they were.

As he pulled up in front of the entrance two police officers stepped forward to speak with him.

“Good morning, sir.” Said one.

Jackson stood up and walked to the window. He lit a cigarette and tried to see what clues he could. The road seemed empty.

“It would be wise to step away from the window,” the inner voice told him.

Jackson stepped back. He wondered who this voice was. It did not sound like a memory to him but he was unsure what it could be. The night did not seem to be very dark to Jackson and he assumed that somewhere just beyond all that tall growth a full moon shone down.

The nameless man stirred in his bed. His body was still aching all over from the beating he had been given but now his stomach was rebelling too. He could no longer ignore the symptoms of acute exhaustion – he had pushed his body too hard and now it was failing him. Memories that had been held completely at bay seeped in to his dreams and polluted his thoughts. Desires long forgotten arose.

He smelt the smoke of Jackson’s cigarette and craved one for himself. He reached for his pockets but they were all empty.

“Please.” He said weakly.

“Pardon, dude,” whispered Jackson, “you want something?”

“Ciggy,” said the man.

“Ok sure,” said Jackson lighting one and passing it to him.

Angelina woke up. She was cold and had expected her man to be there to warm her. The smell of smoke flooded her senses and she felt quite uncomfortable.

“It’s still early,” she complained, “come back to bed.”

Jackson through his cigarette end into the fire. He did not need asking twice.

Paul sat in the cell and hung his head in his hands. He knew that he faced the chance of loosing his licence for a long time and no one was going to pity him. Worse yet - he was going to miss out on being there to find out the results of the tests.

He cursed his bad luck and sunk into a depressed silence. He knew that it had been silly but it had been only a small drink and in reality, it was nothing compared to what he had put away this week. IT was just bad luck that the Police on duty guarding the labs had decided to relive their boredom by breath testing him. The skidding and so forth would not have normally been noticed that far away he reasoned.

He felt truly down trodden. It seemed life had conspired only to hurt him. First he lost control of his company to a much bigger company and now he had lost his life and now his car. Sure, it had all seemed like a good idea at the time – sell up and get rich – but it had not worked out quite like that.

It was not fair.

Jacque D'Jusuit – The keeper of The Book sat in silence. His work in this town seemed to be coming to an end the keeping of the book demanded that he travel north to see exactly what had been going on with a small cult that had recently become very popular. He had to be sure that it was not one of his own behind it.

The translation would have to wait for another time as would all consideration and debate on the subject of an heir. It was true that he would have to train another to keep The Book but he no longer had time, it seemed, to search for his replacement.

The Anabellus situation seemed stable enough for now and he felt he could use a change of scenery from the dull and damp of this particular town.

He arrived at a decision and immediately felt relieved to be going. He would leave the night after the next and return after a week or two.

Luke lay awake unable to sleep. The night seemed light to him as it had to Jackson and he simply felt somewhat wakeful. He also felt incredibly uncomfortable. His body ached; his stomach had the cramps and his cuts itched like crazy. He hoped that he had not caught rabies or some other infection from the mad man that had bitten him.