Every part of his body throbbed. Moving his head, or even his eyes, hurt and sent a shiver of agony down his body. He tried to lift his head slightly and the pain seared down his left side. He slumped his head back into the pillow and groaned without making a noise. Something bad’s happened, he thought, I don't know what, but this is really, really bad. He slipped out of consciousness.
6
Rei shuffled anxiously outside Dr Warwick’s office. George’s downturn had been more rapid than she had expected. The boy had been in her care, although not, obviously, exclusively, and she could not help but feel in part responsible. There had always been the slight chance of recovery and now that this seemed to have been removed the sense that she had failed everyone was overwhelming. And if she had failed personally, then she would need to take whatever consequences this had caused. Warwick was not renowned for requesting that staff meet him personally, and the only reason Rei could think was that he was going to dismiss her. And that would result in her having to return home. There didn't seem any other choice. This time tomorrow she would be on her way back to Honshu and then making the land journey to Tsukuba. Three years in Britain was, it seemed, about to come to an abrupt end. The light on the door turned green and the word Enter appeared. She swallowed, closed her eyes, counted to ten, and walked into the grand office.
The office was large, without being palatial. The décor could have belonged to any time after 1900, except for the series of state-of-the-art monitoring and security systems. Behind Warwick’s mahogany desk was a large portrait, in oils Rei noticed, of Warwick, and in front of this sat the man himself. He was reading as Rei walked in and didn't turn his gaze to her, but remained engrossed in the document displayed in the ethervision. The door slid shut, but the noise didn't provoke a response. Rei coughed quietly, unsure if she'd been acknowledged in any way. “Please be seated Miss Ishinomori,” Warwick said without looking up. Rei moved nervously to the chair positioned on her side of the desk and sat in what she considered a neat and appropriate style. Warwick turned his chair to her, and closed the image in front of him. He stared at her for a few seconds, as if examining a specimen, and then stood and walked across the room to a large wooden globe positioned by an art nouveau lamp.
“Drink?” He opened the globe and produced one of several bottles from it.
“No thank you,” replied Rei uncomfortably. “I’m not thirsty.”
Dr Theodore Warwick smiled and poured a measure of whisky into an ornate glass. “I want to get straight to the point,” he said. “I’m busy and expect that you are wondering why you are here. So let me explain.” Rei averted her eyes from the man and waited like a dog expecting to be beaten. “I have a special job for someone, and you would appear to be the most suitable person on my staff.”
Rei was confused. “What job…Sir?”
“We have a patient that I would like you to administer to exclusively. When I say this I do not mean that only you will have access to him, but that he is to be your only patient for the foreseeable future. I would like you to move into accommodation adjacent to the clinic, and be on call 1440 minutes of the day.” Rei hid relief beneath a host of questions and forced back a smile that Warwick should really talk in such an old-fashioned manner. She opened her mouth to speak, but Warwick waved his hand in a gesture that was obviously intended to invoke silence.
“We have a patient on the 54th floor. He has a condition that is both unique and fascinating. He has been comatose for some time, but is beginning to gain consciousness occasionally and is becoming more lucid each time. There will be some medical administrative details that you will be required to fulfil, but your overall duty will be to keep this patient as comfortable and mentally stable as possible. He might be, or seem, delusional, and is likely to be in pain and probably confused to some extent. The patient himself is not of particular importance, but his condition is. The work that we undertake with him could make this the most significant case in decades.”
“I am a little confused,” understated Rei. “Why would you like me to administer to this person?”
“I believe that you have an excellent schooling in certain aspects of English cultural history.”
“I took my first degree in twentieth century English literature when I was 14,” Rei replied, although the turn in the conversation had rather startled her. “Before I came into medicine.”
“Now one could make far more money working in areas of language than working in a British clinic,” stated Warwick, cryptically.
“I feel that I have a calling for medicine at this moment. There is much time later to deal in money and culture, but for now I want to play a part in the medical requirements of the Western World. I came here because I wanted to do some good in a part of the world where that is needed more than my own. I am only 24 and have time for other experiences yet.” Suddenly this was feeling like an interview.
“Excellent response. Although I didn’t actually ask a question. The patient that I'm referring to has an interest, perhaps obsession would be a better word, with your particular area of specialism. It may transpire that this is related to his condition. It may not. I want to be prepared for every eventuality. The full details of the condition will be brought to your attention if and when it becomes necessary to do so.
“Now, you have several other duties at present, which I am relieving you of immediately and indefinitely. Your patient George…” Warwick flicked his monitor back on and racked through a file.
“George Clark,” Rei interjected.
“Yes yes, that boy. I understand that you feel a particular bond and responsibility to him. But I’ve checked his notes and there really is nothing to be done. You need to move on from that situation.”
“Well, I do feel interested in the position that you’re suggesting, but George has been my patient for several months, and I would like to see the end through with him. Even though the outcome seems a little…inevitable.” Rei felt a lump develop in her throat and fought to control her emotions.
“I have to explain that the position that I’m offering will include a degree of paid expenses, an increase in you remuneration, and requires an immediate start. You are senior medical student, Miss Ishinomori, but not a doctor. You must learn to leave your patients when their needs are less than those of others. This is an excellent opportunity to work on a unique project that I suspect you will find both rewarding and exceptionally interesting. Furthermore,” Warwick said with a smile that was neither warm nor sincere, “I don’t take no for an answer. I really don’t.”
7
Deon had not slept. His mind raced and he felt anxious. The nearest analogy that he could make was the way he'd felt as a child the night before Christmas. His thoughts kept returning to the meeting earlier in the day when the Divine Caroline had talked earnestly of the events to come. She had taken the lectern quietly and began talking in a cool and commanding voice: “We are told of a great miracle in John 11:43-44. When Jesus came to Martha and Mary of Bethany and raised their brother Lazarus from the dead. And so he who had once been dead was risen.
“Later of course we learn how Jesus himself was raised from the dead as the Divine Spirit. This shows us the power of God and through the belief in Christ, the way to life everlasting. We that must die will live again. Death is not an end, but part of the journey to salvation. Those who believe in this salvation shall rise and walk with Christ in Paradise. Through your contributions to our small community you have shown your trust in me and in the power of Christ. And though the end of your Earthly life, with its pain and misery, may be at hand, the path is open for you to walk freely in the Kingdom of Heaven. This small spiritual community will, like Lazarus, rise and shed the bandages of oppression from our limbs and the cloth of blindness from our faces. Soon we shall all walk freely and happily in eternal bliss through the power of prayer. The name Lazarus means one whom God aids, and God will aid all of us in our quest for perfection and eternal life. Seek to be as Lazar
us and you will be the people that God aids. By Christ’s love through me, you will rise again.
“Now it is time to go to and prepare yourselves for the tasks ahead of us as we are to take the ultimate test of our faith. I have confidence that none here shall fail.”
From the small window by his bed Deon could now see the moon, almost full, and watched the streaks of clouds partially obscure it and rush past. The occasional noises of people muttering to themselves and praying mingled with the snores of those already asleep, and eventually the talking died away. Deon thought that everyone except himself was fully asleep. He had always been a light sleeper and the drug had made him feel lethargic and heavy, but had not sent him into the sleep that he felt would allow him to wake refreshed for his last day on God’s Earth. Deep in thought he jumped slightly at the touch of a hand on his side.
“Deon,” a voice whispered. “Deon.” The hand shook him roughly and he looked across at the figure by his bed. “Deon,” whispered the voice again. “I want to have a smoke.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve never smoked,” said Nasreen. “I want to try it once on this world.”
“It’s a little late,” said Deon tersely. “We could do it tomorrow.”
“It’ll be too busy. Can't we do it now?”
He looked up at her silhouette. He could make out the long brown hair that lacked style and yet seemed so fitting, and the slim waist and small firm breasts that attracted him to her from the first day he'd been told to pass thoughts of lust from his body.
“And I need to tell you something. Something very important,” she whispered in the dark.
Deon swung himself out of bed, tired but intrigued. He threw a shirt over his head and was vaguely aware that as he moved from the cot the erection that he’d been trying to hide in the shadows had brushed against Nasreen’s leg. If she noticed she didn't let it show.
“You sure?” he asked. Nasreen nodded and Deon helped her onto his bed. He slid his knife under the window with practised skill, opened it and slid onto the outside roof, turning to help lift the girl through the small opening.
They moved quietly around the ledge that led around the first floor of the building, Deon in front holding Nasreen’s hand, leading them both into temptation.The moon gave them enough light to find their way without tripping or falling, which would not be fatal, but would take some explaining. After a couple of minutes they reached Deon's favourite hiding spot.
“It’s quite exciting,” said Nasreen. “I’ve really never done anything remotely like this in the past.”
“Oh? I have,” said Deon and then quickly changed the subject. “Do you want to try this?” He indicated to the silver pipe he now held in his hand.
“Go on then. But you have to set it up. I don't know how to operate one.”
“What did you want to tell me?” Deon asked as he charged the pipe’s compartment with one of the small white tablets he’d been saving for a special occasion.
“It’s about tomorrow. I don't think it’s going to happen.” Deon looked a little confused. “I’ve heard Caroline talking, and she was planning something for next week. Except there isn’t a next week is there? And there’s something very wrong about all this.”
“What?”
“All this preparation. Why did they need to tranquillise everyone tonight?”
“She, I mean Caroline, said. It was to help us sleep so that we can feel refreshed and alert when we’re needed tomorrow.’
“I think they put something in the food too. I didn’t eat tonight. And anyone else who didn’t hasn’t gone out like the others. Then I noticed that you were awake looking out that window, and I know that you hardly eat anyway. I think they’ve drugged most of the people. So I haven't taken my tranquilliser. Have you?”
“Yes,” replied Deon rather sleepily, the tranquillisers were common issue at Unit where the hard work and peculiar regime could sometimes cause mild depression. This was a bit too weird. Nasreen had flights of fancy sometimes, but he couldn’t really get what she was saying. “So you think that they’ve drugged everyone and are going to do what. Move out overnight with all their stuff?”
“Something like that. Here let me try that.” Nasreen took the pipe from Deon’s mouth as he took his first lung-full of the smoke, and she inhaled deeply from it. She was evidently not the novice that she claimed.
“This isn’t nicotine!” she said.
“No,” said Deon, “it’s something special.”
They stood quietly smoking from the electronic pipe for a few minutes, staring up at the star-strewn skies. Deon ran ideas around his groggy head and came up with no solutions. It did, however, occur to him that he had an excellent chance of fucking the life out of his companion this last night. Nasreen stood close to him, passing and receiving the small pipe. A cold breeze blew the couple and she seemed to move very slightly closer to him, and he felt the blood flowing into his crotch again.
“Try this,” he said. “Open your mouth and breath in as I exhale.” He took a large lug on the pipe and held the smoke in his mouth, then moved forward and touched his mouth to hers, exhaling the vapour straight into her lungs. She took it it in and held her breath. Deon could feel the chemicals start to wash across his mind, intermingling with the tranquilliser.
Deon let his arm move across the space between them and rest gently against the girl’s buttocks. He opened his palm and moved his hand around in a circular motion, pulling her nearer to him. With practised skill he flicked the pipe into the off mode and pocketed it, all the time moving around behind Nasreen, his hand now gently reaching down between her legs. He reached down and felt the clump of clipped hair between her thighs and slipped a finger inside her moist body. Nasreen rolled her head back and pushed herself down onto his hand, gently caressing his neck with her mouth.
“Come on,” he whispered, and, for the second time that day, illicitly slid open a window.
Deon jumped down into the dark storeroom first, before turning and easing Nasreen down to his side. She looked beautiful, he thought to himself, caught in the moonlight that was able to pass through the half-open window. He took her hand and led her slightly away from the opening to one of the secret places that he knew in the complex. The place was damp and dark but safe. Hardly anyone ever entered here. The two doors to the room had been painted in military green decades, perhaps a century or more, earlier, but the paint had peeled in the sun from the south-facing portals. Years of constant south-coast rain had infiltrated the wood of the doors, causing them to expand in their jambs, and now they could hardly be opened at all. The room was secure and Deon had sometimes fantasised about the possibilities that it held.
He pulled the girl towards him and she kissed him hard, running a hand up his back. He could feel the sweat starting to form on her skin and he tasted the salt on her lips. He ripped at her clothes and unloosened his own trousers. She sat back onto the bench she was rested on and pulled her legs up around him and he entered her hungrily. Her face arched away from him as he pulled himself into her repeatedly beneath the lonely moon just visible through the window. She moaned lightly and leaned forward, biting his shoulder. He felt the excitement and divinity of the control each had over the other’s body as they moved. They pulsed together, in a moment that seemed to have no time. He pushed her down and climaxed within her, breathing heavily as he relished the moment of dark satisfaction and they lay still and entwined.
And then the explosion happened.
“Shit, shit, shit. What the fuck’s happening.” But Nasreen made no reply; she only looked at him with large frightened eyes, illuminated by the glow of the flames rising from the nearby hall, just visible through the small window they had entered through. They could hear voices outside.
“What do we do? We’ll be caught.”
“Fuck being caught, Nasreen; Unit’s on fire.”
They rushed to the side of the building to see the top of the fire-ball rise into
the sky and the plumes of black smoke pour from the windows of the main sleeping area. With a clang a clump of burning wood landed by the window, blocking their route out. Nasreen stood like a trapped rabbit for an instant and then bolted for the door. She hit it hard, but it remained shut. She turned and flew in the opposite direction. Deon remained still for a couple of seconds trying to comprehend the situation. He tried the door, but it remained fast. He kicked it several times to no avail. He could now hear the voices more clearly: men and women were shouting and screaming and he could hear the cries of the children. Nasreen had disappeared from view and he was about to run after her, although he wasn’t entirely sure why or where she’d gone, when something very strange happened. He heard gunfire.
8
Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the blinds into the sparsely furnished room like a flood breaking the restraints of a dam. The lights on the machinery faded in the sudden burst of light and the clinical white silence of the chamber gave way to an eerie brightness that seemed not in keeping with the surroundings. Although the room was steady at 18 degrees, as indeed it always remained, the morning light gave it a feeling of warmth that seemed otherwise absent. Gradually the light moved around the wall and fell across the bed in the centre of the room; creeping as if it had its own purpose over the figure within, until eventually it fell onto the eyes and woke Mathew from the uncomfortable slumber that he had endured on and off for several days. His eyes flickered and slowly became accustomed to the light on them.
The light was coming through the vertical blinds that covered the window about two metres from his bed. There was an unmistakable hospital-feeling in the colour and size of the room. Mathew gradually focused on this but was unable to remember quite why he should be in hospital or where in the world he was. He contemplated moving across to the window, but as he moved his legs a jolt of pain shot down his right side, causing him to catch his breath and slump back down into the bed.
The Relic Keeper Page 3
