Chapter 14 - the end

Paul walked into his office a broken man. When he had left the police station he had needed a cab and then he had discovered his tired were slashed. It had all been too much and it was worse that he had had to wait for a taxi to take him home as well. He had to order yet another to take him into work. The cab driver had wanted to talk about football and all Paul wanted was to tell him where he could shove it.

He sat at his desk and rifled through the piles of paper work all about him. Unread memos and letters had pilled up on his desk while he had been distracted by other things. He continued to search, he would have to become more organised, he thought. Finally, he found the report he was looking for - Ricky’s experiment.

He scanned through the report picking out key words… 95% uptake… rapid decline of antibodies… no trace of original virus infection… secondary virus spread reduced… possible side effects and wide spread cellular damage… 2% risk of cancer… no sign of secondary virus with twenty-four hours… permanent increase in cell activity… possible complications… further studies recommended to future researchers…

Paul put it all together in his head. The virus had destroyed not only the other virus but also the systems immune response and then had itself been destroyed by Ricky’s process. This left a danger of a mild and temporary Acquired Immunodeficiency, and left the victim vulnerable for a while. Also, the cell damage increased the risk of cancers, which might become an issue.

But the single great fact remained - they had found a cure for almost everything!

Something bothered him about the reference to future researchers. Was Ricky planning on quitting?

He picked up the phone and called John’s office.

Jackson lay on the inflatable sofa, it sagged a little and his legs hung over then end but he felt comfortable enough. All he had to do was watch Luke and dream up a way of seducing Angelina. Perfect, he thought.

“Your best approach would be to make this place homely,” said the voice in his head, “tidy and dust this place, remove the cobwebs as well.”

“Who are you?” asked Jackson.

The air was still and the only sound was the heavy snoring of Luke. Jackson looked about the place, he didn’t find the new voice spooky but it did annoy him that he did not recognise it.

John sat down next to Paul and sighed.

“They’ve slashed our budgets and commandeered most of out projects.” He said.

“What!?” Asked Paul outraged, “they can’t do that! We’re so close to finding a cure for AIDS, the common flu maybe even cancer and god knows what else.“

“They can,” said John, he shook his head a little and said: “We’ve lost this one, Paul.”

“No,” shouted Paul, “it’s not right.” He stood up and paced back and forth. He moved in such a frantic and disturbingly manic manor that John started to become quite concerned.

“Sit down,” said John, “there’s nothing you can do.” He gestured to the chair that Paul had occupied moments ago

“Our work…” moaned Paul.

“It’s all too late.” Said John, “come and sit down”.

Paul thumped the wall and yelled: “It’s not damn fair, they’re coming to take my cure that I worked so hard for.”

“Paul, for the love of god, calm down.” Said john.

“When do they arrive?” asked Paul.

“They don’t,” said John, “we have to send it to them. It seems that this is one of those reserved projects. It has been on the company books for years. They’ve sunk billions into it over the years.”

“So what,” said Paul, “it was our project; we still have Ricky’s modified vision right?”

“Yes, for all the good it will do us.” Said John.

“And Ricky can knock up enough of his drug cocktail to cure a full grown man right.”

“No, Paul, don’t you dare.”

“It’s the only way.” Said Paul.

“Sit down.” Said John standing up. “I can’t let you risk your life like this. It’s stupid and pointless. I’m your friend and I insist you calm down.”

“My life?” Screamed Paul, “my god-damn life is already over. It was over the day that bloody gold digger broke in her and smashed the place up.” Paul turned and opened the door.

John tried to stop him but Paul simply struck out and shouted: “I will not miss out now!”

John crumpled onto the desk under Paul’s fierce blow and then lay still. Blood tricked for the corner of his mouth and Paul wondered for a second if he might have killed his friend.

“Sorry, my friend but this is life and death.” Said Paul and ran from the office.

He found Ricky in the lab packing up equipment.

“Hello, boss,” said Ricky, “I didn’t expect you to come and say goodbye.”

“I didn’t know you were leaving us.” Said Paul.

“I’ve been asked to transfer to another department based near London.” Said Ricky, “I’ve got the rest of the month but there is nothing much here for me now.”

“Please stay a few more days,” said Paul, “I think I can make it worth your while.”

Angelina continued to sift through the paper work. At first it had been rather difficult to stay focused but now she found that she could focus for an hour at a time with out even fidgeting.

Jackson sat perfectly still he watched Luke. The room looked cleaner than it had done since they had arrived here. Luke seemed to be concussed. He did not know why the thought had not accoutred to him before but no it seemed obvious that the man had sustained head injuries.
Paul hurried down the steps at the entrance to the complex. The cab was weighting for him, and of all the bad luck, it was the same guy as earlier that morning. He felt for the bottle of medicine – it was safe in his top pocket.

“Afternoon, squire.” Said the cab driver.

“Afternoon,” said Paul. “Take us to some pub, any will do.”

“Sure thing boss.”

Paul felt a little woozy but other than that, he felt strong and well. Ricky had been quite explicit about taking the medicine every two hours until it was gone. He had made Paul’s day when he had told him dinking would probably increase the rate that the secondary virus was killed.

Paul intended to drink his way to health. It was to be a victory and a victory calibration in one and yet he had lost all appetite for drink. Maybe just a few pints, he thought.

John’s face hurt in several different places. He was furious with Paul and ready to kill Ricky for agreeing to help but he had to admit that there would be little to stop them making a break with the discoveries once tested successfully on Paul. They could not forbid the evidence to go home.

That evening the trio in the abandoned house dinned on a few bars of chocolate and a cup of vodka diluted with the last of the coke. Luke sat groggily on the edge of the bed and attempted to simply look sociable.

Angelina was a little worried about herself. She had gone all day without food and only now did she feel a little hungry. She also knew that she had brought way too little food and too many home comforts. She felt extremely angry at her own naivety and her growing sense of insight and concentration allowed her to plan carefully.

It was only a mile further to go to another town entirely to get food. There was a twenty-four hour garage in that direction and that would sell her everything they might need.

She thought again of her silly girly ideas about the house and the lack of food. She looked around the room. It did look good she had to admit. Jackson had tidied up and even done a little cleanings – the cobwebs and the dust were gone.

“I’m going to walk to the garage and get some supplies,” she announced, “any requests?”

“Fags.” Said Jackson.

“Coffee, please,” said Luke, “and something meaty if you can.”

“Sure,” said Angelina, “not a problem.”

Outside the house, Jacque passed by silent and unobserved. He had seen Anabellus’ bride and he knew there was no immediate danger. The scientific man was drinking again and the scientific man’s bosses had taken his samples away. Everything, he reasoned, would remain fine while he was gone.

“Angel,” said Jackson, “have you noticed anything odd?”

“Odd?” she asked.

“Yeah, you know, increased concentrational awareness, extra insight that sort of thing.”

“No,” she replied, “I can’t say that I have. We can chat about this when I get back if you like.”

“OK,” he said, “I’ll see you when you get back, babe.” A slight sweaty feeling pricked at Jackson’s neck. Now he had said it he felt foolish.

“See you later,” she said with out betraying the small skip of her heart. He had called her babe!

The night was clear and remarkably light. Everything smelled vibrant and the night seemed alive to Angelina as she walked the long journey to collect food for the house.

She reflected that she had never felt quite so alive.

Jackson was unsure but he was sure he had seen the tiniest of reaction in Angelina and he was sure it was a good thing. He had gotten it right.

Luke was asleep when he came back into the front room. Jackson went to the window and looked out at the hedge. I should light a fire, he thought, but I’ll just stand here a little longer and then it will be time.

“You’re a j-“

“Fuck off, dick breath” muttered Jackson and turned away from the window.

“You tot-“

“Lay down and die, turd for brains.” He told the memory.

For the first time since he could remember, he felt truly confident, he felt strong, and he felt – manly.

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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.

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