Death's Twilight
Page 17
CHAPTER TEN
Igor's Hostel, Ural Territory, December 5, 01:02:03 (T-Minus 00:10:09:08)
The full moon shone brightly in the Moscow night sky. The last of the vendor's lights had been extinguished over two hours ago, and silence filled the once bustling market street. Snow covered the streets, reflecting the moon's light, turning the usually dark square into a beacon of light. On the east side of the street, one window was lucky to receive more moonlight than the rest. On the second floor of the hostel, the light from the full moon shone through the window of the room being used by Hotaru Kogame.
Hotaru tossed and turned in the king-size bed in her room. Rapid movements of her eyes beneath closed eyelids indicated she was dreaming, but her outward actions told that it was not a pleasant dream. The sheets and duvet had long since been kicked to the floor, and her pajamas were soaked with sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead.
Two men held her as the lady came closer with the six-pointed syringe
"No!" she moaned, thrashing left and right on the mattress.
She felt the sleeve torn from her right arm. As the sleeve slipped over her hand, she wrenched it free from the second man's grip.
Her right arm came up over her head, and then slammed against the mattress.
The man grabbed her arm, and forced it back down by her side, exposing the tender flesh of the crook of her arm. The syringe was jabbed into her arm near the elbow.
Her right arm flexed, and a scream of pure horror tore from her mouth, echoing off the walls of the bedroom.
She was suddenly calm, and dropped her arms to her side, turning to the first guard. His face was wrong, like it was a wax mask that was melting.
Hotaru's arm returned to the mattress, and her head turned to the left. Her face registered fear, and a low moan escaped her throat.
She turned to the second guard. His face and neck were covered with small little bumps that made his skin look like that of a reptile. She tried to back up, but she was against the wall.
Turning her head to the right, Hotaru pushed into the mattress, trying to escape an enemy only she saw.
The two men grabbed her, dragging her behind them as she struggled for freedom. They were too strong. The three of them went through a doorway into a room full of people in various states of decay. She could see Abujamal's cork board and papers on a wall at the far end of the room. The two men turned, exiting the room, shutting the door behind them. The seams of the doorway disappeared and there was a solid wall with no way out. The people in the room crowded around her, reaching for her.
"Help Us!"
They crowded in around her, pushing her to the floor. The last thing she saw was a sea of faces as they piled on top of her. She screamed.
Hotaru sat bolt upright, eyes wide, breathing heavily. The least vestiges of her scream echoed in the room.
Hotaru rubbed the sweaty hair out of her eyes, and took a quick look around the room. Everything was where it was supposed to be - all except the sheets, apparently. Recalling the details of her dream, she remembered a hospital with pale green walls. Being dragged down a hallway by two men as naked bulbs flitted past overhead. A six-pointed syringe. A room with no door or window as people crowded around her with oozing lesions and skin so grey it looked like cement. She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands, and brushed her hair back over the top of her head. What was she dreaming about? Standing from the bed, she headed into the washroom, and programmed the shower.
As the water cascaded over her, she remembered the note on the magazine in Abujamal's office. Cancer cured for years. What was he talking about? Cancer was still around. Her mother had passed away from Cancer ten years ago. What were the circles on the map for? So many questions. Maybe she would get to Abujamal's before the one o'clock appointment and ask him a couple questions.
Feeling calmer, she shut off the shower, and toweled off. She placed her pajamas and undergarments in the laundry bin. They would be ready for tomorrow. She wrapped her kimono around her body and made the bed. Unable to sleep from the memories of the nightmarish visions, she grabbed the magazine she pilfered from Abujamal's office, sat in the high back chair, and propped her feet on top of the heat register.
She turned to the feature article: ADVANCED DETECTION TOOLS FOR CANCER PATIENTS DEVELOPED. It was written by some doctor she had never heard of, but she paid that no attention. There was a ton of medical jargon that Hotaru couldn't understand, but the gist of the article indicated that there were new genetic tests that could be run on patients that would tell if a patient was pre-determined to have certain types of cancers.
The tests were more successful on certain types of cancers, like lung, and ovarian, for example, and less successful on prostate and skin cancers. The test involved having a chip implanted in the patient's hip, and monitoring the information sent back over a period of two months. Data was then gathered, and the chip biodegraded, becoming natural human waste.
Near the bottom of the right hand page, there was a graph showing the potential of saved lives by using the early detection program: nearly two million. There was a line drawn in felt pen at a level representing fifty deaths. In neat block letters beside the line, someone (Abujamal, Hotaru guessed) had written SAVE TWO MILLION? CANCER RESPONSIBLE FOR FIFTY DEATHS IN MOSCOW LAST YEAR. Underneath the graph was a picture of the doctor who had written the article lecturing a class of students. His head was circled in the same felt pen, and the words WORKS FOR GOVERNMENT DEFENSE were there beside it.
It seemed that Abujamal had done some detailed research on Cancer and its progression. She would definitely have to talk with him to get more information. Her eyelids were getting very heavy, so she decided it was time for bed. She'd have to take the magazine back in the morning before he realized it was missing. As she slid under the covers, she adjusted her kimono to keep the least amount of skin exposed to the now cold sheets. Tomorrow she would have some answers. And another Letter Delivered. With that thought, she drifted off to sleep once again.