Chapter 17 – Conclusive Change

Jackson opened his eyes. The room was spinning a little and the smell of vomit hit his nostrils. Luke had already stopped coughing and now simply lay there limp and unmoving. Angelina seemed to be unconscious but breathing.

How many days had been since anyone had spoken to anyone else? How many days since they last lit the fire?

Something at the back of his mind told him that it had been longer than five sunrises; possibly seven and maybe more. Jackson looked at the blanketed window. At some stage, someone had improved it. No light shone through. It was cold and dark and yet Jackson found that he could see quite well. He looked at Angelina; she lay on the makeshift bed with a blanket under her. She was naked but for a pair of skimpy knickers.

It was an arresting sight and would have been better were her skin not so drawn, pale, blotchy and clammy. She looked as if she was long over due for death. It was not sexy any more - it was revolting.

Jackson looked away. He looked at Luke covered and still with one arm hanging over the side of the camp bed. Jackson pulled himself closer to Luke. Every part of his body hurt as he moved and he simply wished the pain would stop.

Jackson reached for Luke’s wrist and tried to feel for a pulse. He tried for a very long time so that he could not tell what was his imagination and what was his sense of touch. It seemed every now and then he had found it but then he realised he was wrong. In the end, he had to admit to himself that he had not found a pulse. He had found faint something’s that had turned out to be wishful thinking.

Luke was dead.

The terminal conclusion sank into Jackson’s mind. The bishop developed early had fallen. What part had he been in the great life sized chess game? Had Jackson Dent been a pawn or something more significant? He sank down and lay where he fell. He would never know what part he had played. He would never know the feel of his Angel Queen. He would die and it would all have been for nothing. He would die and he would have achieved nothing. He would not have even won his lady nor found out why Luke had done what he had.

Jackson knew he tasted despair as he gave himself up to sleep.

Gail mopped the forehead of her man. He had been like this for days. It was quite the worst flu she had ever seen. But he was her man now and she would take good care of him. She had taken care of him since he became ill over six days ago and she would continue to take care of him.

He stirred a little and she attentively stroked his hand.

“It is all going to be fine.” She told him.

Anabellus stood in the cemetery – he liked it here where people generally didn’t bustle. It was peaceful and restful and although a nice place to visit, he would not want to live there.

His bride stood beside him. She was dressed clothes that were not entirely appropriate or practical it was a dress made of crushed velvet of two different colours: black and deep purple. It looked amazing on her and showed he shoulders and cleavage wonderfully in the mood light but caught on the brambles and every little thing that protruded at a strange angle. It already had three little rips at the hem and a little mud splattered up the back.

She had wandered the nights mindlessly for a time and might have done so forever if Anabellus had not found her. The night seemed so lively and she felt the urge to write dark poetry.

Anabellus held her close, she felt full and could not remember a time when she had feasted as she had that night. Anabellus held his bride tightly and soaked up the view. In a few months, when she had fully recovered, they would move on to another town.

At the lab the next day, Mary, Ricky and Johnny sat around the table. Each one trying to avoid the gaze of the others they read on through the remaining notes and files, all of them trying to avoid the subject of the rumoured closures.

“Look at this,” said Mary, “it’s about some guy with the name Anabellus – can you believe any mother would call her child that?”

“It’s a pretty unusual name,” said Ricky.

“Oh hang on,” said Mary, “his name used to be George Abele.”

“The Abele’s used to own most of this town,” said Johnny, “Abele road, Abele Park and Town Street used to be the Abele estate.”

“According to this the guy died of our virus and it took him 12 days.” Said Mary.

“That’s sad.” Said Ricky.

“What else does it say?” Asked Johnny.

“Apparently the should be a picture of him.” Said Mary. She turned the page and stared at the cheap colour photograph. He hands started to tremble and he stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor.

“Mary,” asked Ricky, “are you okay?”

“Mary?” Asked Johnny.

“I’ve seen this man.” Said Mary, finally.

“What do you mean you’ve seen him?” Asked Johnny, “he’s dead.”

“The night Linda died he was in the bar.”

“Surely you must be mistaken.” Said Ricky.

“No, damn it, that was him. He was chatting up Linda and I left early with…” Mary broke into uncontrollable fits of sobbing.

“Johnny, could you fetch some coffee?”

“Sure,” said Johnny thinking: why me?

“I killed Linda,” sobbed Mary, “when I left to… when I thought that…”

“It’s alright,” said Ricky gently moving in to comfort her. “Nobody thinks you killed her. Now we can tell the police that the serial killer looks like George Abele did shortly before his death.”

“I condemned her to die,” wailed Mary.

“No, you didn’t,” Ricky said comfortingly, “you were her friend.” It is going to be a long day, he thought.

Gail fussed around her man, he seemed a little better today and had sat up and had some chicken soup. This, she felt, was a good sign – it meant he was getting better it also meant that she could maybe do a little more than hold him close during the night.

She looked around at the bedroom. She had kept her curtains closed at his request and she had changed the bucket ever few hours. Flowers in vases sat on every surface and a cup of water and a jug were sat by the bed.

Several different medicines we lined up on the dressing table. Some she recognised others she had purchased only because Paul had asked her too. It looked like a mad cross between a florists and a hospital.

She purchased fresh flowers whenever she went out and it helped her feel like she was doing something worthwhile.

Jackson opened his eyes again.

He looked at Angelina. It seemed she had stopped breathing. He sighed a deep sigh and considered burying her. In the end, he opted to simply cover her up with the blanket. He looked about the room and realised that this might be that last thing he ever saw.

If I could live my life over again, thought Jackson, I would do so much more before this moment.

He closed his eyes and slipped into a coma.

John sat at his desk. There was a tiny chance thay had all made the same mistake. If so Paul might still be alive.

He had in front of him a report of two boys who were attacked on the way home from a party. They grew ill and over twelve days gradually died. The story would have ended there but a visiting doctor successfully demonstrated that the boys were in fact still alive but in a very deep coma like sleep. Their vital signs had reduced to almost zero.

After nine days, one of the boys revived and a day later his friend did too. They rapidly returned to full health with no ill effects. They both had developed an aversion to sunlight and any strong sunlight caused blistering of the skin.

Within a day of each other, both boys reported that teeth had been falling out however after a month they had apparently grown back. The new teeth were sharper than the old ones and the boys required some dental work to blunt them off. The K9 teeth caused the biggest stir as they were fairly long and some locals given to flights a fancy suggested that the boys were vampires. One enterprising individual apparently attempted to kill them with large wooden stakes.

The boys continued to be fine apart from a growing allergy to sunlight and a bad cause of anaemia. Neither of which helped the rumours that had continued to spread.

They both died sixteen months later when locals discovered that they had been responsible for the death of three sheep and blamed them for other deaths and accidents. The boys died after being beaten and pursued by an angry mob. One was cornered and beheaded with an antique sword and the other was brutally murdered by zealots who effectively nailed him to the ground with wooden stakes.

While this was a shocking story, John realised, if this was the same virus then there was hope yet. The symptoms seemed the same it was just a shame that they did not have more time to investigate.

Gail purchased a large shovel on her way home from the shops. She hung her head low and placed it in the shed hoping that she never needed to use it. But she knew it was only a matter of time before she had to bury her man.

A tear slid down her cheek. He had been her’s and now he was sliding away. Life was cruel and unfair. She had no idea what she would do with the rest of her life now that her man was dieing.