The un-named chapter 6.

Angelina stood at her window. She longed for some excitement something to make her feel a little more alive.

She pondered shutting down her computer, then concluded it was happy as it was. She had tidied her apartment to make it more like: that which might befit a rich young woman. She had ordered new bits and peaces and dusted and vacuumed but as the day moved on so too did she. She had become board of the housework and her mind had wandered.

She could be a freelance journalist publishing electronic reports for people to read, she thought. Investigative journalism at its finest.

She wondered for a moment what was required to become a freelance investigative journalist. She supposed that all that was really required was to start investigating things.

Maybe a notepad would be useful too. She dug out a long drap coat and then cast it aside for a jacket the better went with her clothes.

Then she took it off again and stripped of her clothes leaving them piled up by the computer chair. Naked she walked to the bed room and there she proceeded to get dressed again.

If she had needed good revealing clothes to bedazzle bank men then one could assume that she need the same to get her past dull witted security guys. She chose clothes that while sexy and revealing allowed for the practicality of a reasonable amount of running.

She opened the front door. There was a slight nip to the air and so she went back for her jacket. On a whim, she picked up a small back and a handful of pens. Now all she needed was some notepads and maybe somewhere to go get some news from.

The shops seemed like a good place to start. As she walked a plan formed. She would get the bus as far as the school, from there she could walk up to the research place. She had heard a rumour that a girl had been taken there and had died. She would walk there and then get in for a snoop about.

It always looked simple enough on the television and these things must have some basis in fact.

It would be dark soon and she soon wished she had something warmer to wear. She was consoled by the idea of the grand adventure that lay ahead of her. Even when she got off the bus back into the cool evening air, she still felt alive and ready for anything.

Jackson saw the bus pull away as he left the school building. He turned back into the door way to crack a jock and then thought better of it. His brain boiled with the game and everything on every level was chess.

The bishop by the bus stop was chess.

The subtle play of words among the chess club was life chess too.

He rolled a cigarette and approached the man with nothing better to do.

“Give us one of your menthols, mate” said Jackson brashly. The man failed to move. The packet was in his hand and so Jackson simply took it from him. The man did not even turn from his paper to look at Jackson.

Jackson took a long black mores menthol and handed the packet back.

At that moment, the spell broke and Jackson’s insides turned to water. He shakily went to light the cigarette but he could not locate his lighter. Panic began to set it.

“Got a light?” he ventured.

The hand of the man slipped into his pocket and held the lighter aloft without turning. The lighter was an expensive looking gold colour item.

Jackson’s boldness was growing. This guy was obviously retarded in some way and could be a danger. He could also be a harmless guy that was easy to play.

A bishop developed early to stick when the moment is right, said his mind.

Jackson lit the elegant cigarette and slipped the lighter into his pocket.

“What you doing, mate?” he asked.

“Waiting” said the man

“What for?” asked Jackson.

The man did not reply.

“It’s getting dark, dude, you been here all day.”

“Nothing else to do so been waiting like he wants me too.” Revealed the man.

“Like who?” asked Jackson.

The man was silent.

This guy’s simple and lonely, thought Jackson, he might also be rich.

The man stood up letting the news paper drop to the floor. “Time.” He said and turned and started walking.

Jackson stood for a moment and then followed him.

He walked slowly along the road heading as if to the Lab complex. Jackson hoped he would not take that turning. “How many fag’s you got?” he asked the man.

“Lot” said the man.

“How many packets?”

“Ten” said the man.

“Give me a packet.” Said Jackson hopefully.

The man reached a hand into a pocket and held out an unopened packet of the menthol cigarettes but he did not stop walking.

“Thanks,” said Jackson in amazement.

They walked in silence for a while.

“Are you backwards?” ask Jackson.

“No” the man replied.

That damn road was getting nearer. Please do not go down there, thought Jackson, please, please, please...

They walked on in silence a while longer.

“What’s you name?” asked Jackson lighting another cigarette to keep away the chill.

The man stopped, deep in thought. “I do not know my name.” He said. This seemed to trouble him and he was lost in thought for a long time. Then the trouble slipped from his mind. “Don’t want to be late.” He said.

Jackson looked hard at the man

“You’re not playing with a full deck.” He said and ran to catch up.

The turning was there and the man was taking it. Damn. You can keep your turning, thought Jackson.

He stopped and let the man carry on. “See you around, mate” he told the guy then just as he was about to turn for home, he saw her - the woman, his queen, walking under the light of a street lamp and looking as enchanting as ever.

“On second thoughts, mate, you might be wise to walk with friends.” Said Jackson.

The man walked on unheeding.

“Dude!” called Jackson, “wait for me.” He ran to catch up.

She was walking slowly but steadily. With any luck, he would catch her up before they got half way to the labs.

The night seemed to enclose on Jackson like a wolf on a small prey. “So, we going to a party?” asked Jackson.

The man did not reply but only kept walking on.

“Damn-it,” said Jackson, “you’re not much fun to talk to, keep up your end of the conversation.”

Jackson shivered. Whispers in the wind shouted that he was worthless. If they did not catch up to her soon he would loose the never to talk to her at all.

“What’re you doing, you jerk.” Called the memories.

“Say something damn-it,” said Jackson, “the voices are too much right now.”

“I saw a hypnotist to stop mine.” Said the man.

“Did it work?” asked Jackson.

“Yes,” said the man.

“Who did you see?” asked Jackson.

“I don’t remember at the moment.” Said the man, “I think it’ll be weeks before I remember that.”

Suddenly Jackson realised they were walking passed his girl. He turned to face her and she walked right into him knocking him down.

Jackson sat stunned on the ground. He could see that she had knickers on this time and that they were silky red ones.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s ok,” said Jackson

Angelina looked down at the guy she had bumped into. It was him! Fate had lent a hand. She looked at him, he looked flushed and embarrassed and just a little nervous and with good reason – the last time they had met she had been very rude to him.

“Please,” she said offering her had.

He took her hand it was soft and seemed so delicate.

“I aught to apologise for the way I spoke to you before,” she said.

“That’s ok,” said Jackson. All his nerve had left him and his guts felt like all the gods were mixing them up. “Consider it forgotten.”

“Are you off to the lab-complex?” Angelina asked.

“Uh, not exactly.” Said Jackson. “I was walking with this guy a head of us. I think he’s retarded and it would be bad if he got hurt.”

How sweet and caring, thought Angelina, I was extremely wrong to be so harsh with him. “We’d better catch him up them.” She said and looped his arm though his.

She said ‘we’, thought Jackson.

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