“Will mixing up the cocktail work? Can Jonathon help now?” Although she spoke in a whisper, Rachel’s voice was filled with dread and panic.
“Trying to find the right cocktail is a trial and error process, Rachel. Different serums work at different stages,” Susan spoke in the cold, blunt tone that was usual for a doctor. Life and death were daily events for them, and although Susan herself was a compassionate and warm person, she knew that the bad outweighed the good in this situation and didn’t want to give anyone, including Rachel, false hope.
“And each transformation is different, don’t forget that. I’m sad to say that Jonathon will not be able to help here. His gift of healing people works in a way I can only guess at, but one thing I do know is that it heals everything, the good and the bad. If he tried to heal her now, his powers would recognise the dominant aspect of the genome and physiology. In other words, it would recognise the vampire part of Tanya as the true form. He would end up attacking her human aspect and speed up the rate of infection, resulting in only speeding up her metamorphism,” Susan looked at Rachel and saw her dejection.
She could tell that Rachel harboured hope for this woman. Rachel was a very emotional person often allowing herself to get too involved in situations like this.
“Look, I’m trying my hardest here, I can promise you that,” Tanya said, the only thing she thought she could say to sound reassuring.
Susan’s words had sent a shiver down Rachel’s spine. She had always imagined the gifted as people of the light, she had never once thought of a gift as neutral.
“What is going to happen to her?” No longer whispering, Rachel seemed determined to find some solution, some loophole to help save Tanya.
“Well, there are two outcomes. The first is that the rate of infection speeds up, and she will be a fully formed vampire in a matter of days, possibly weeks. The other depends on whether I can get that vampyric-infection score below fifty per cent, then Jonathon can help her. I must warn you though that if this is the case, his gift will not restore the damage done to her by the vampire virus, it will simply remove the infection.”
“Damage? What damage? Surely, the infection is the damage?” Rachel was confused. For all the years she had worked for the Order, the metamorphic change of humans to vampires was something she was not too familiar with and she was still naïve with regards to the potential and limitations of the medicines and many talents of those in the Order.
“Even if the infection is removed successfully, Tanya will still have to spend the rest of her life on very powerful drugs. Many of her organs will perform below optimum levels. Her reproductive organs will have been completely destroyed; she will never be able have children again.”
Rachel was dismayed by Dr. Gambon’s somewhat emotionless tone and she gasped at the thought of what Tanya would still have to suffer, and for the rest of her life. And in spite of any intervention by Jonathon, Tanya would still lose the war, even if she somehow won this battle.
“She won’t have children ever again?” Rachel was incredulous, but deep down she believed Dr. Gambon’s prognosis, she knew what she had heard was correct.
Susan nodded at Rachel, who seemed lost in her thoughts and was crying silent tears. Rachel wondered if she had ever cried so much in her life.
“Bastard! I’m glad the vampire is dead and I hope Zhing kills Tom as well,” Susan was taken aback by Rachel’s blunt words. The Rachel she knew was usually so quiet and timid, but then she had let herself get too emotionally involved once again.
“Okay, Doctor, I have to go,” Rachel sighed as she wiped away her tears.
Walking fast, she passed Tanya’s bed and saw that she had fallen fast asleep. Rachel approached the elevators and stepped in, not able to take her mind off the fate that poor Tanya lying across the room from her had to endure. She had believed that she had saved her, but had she really? Would she ever be saved? As the doors to the elevator began to close, an arm suddenly popped through the gap and forced the doors back open. It was Susan. “I will do my best, I promise. She will get through this somehow.”
The words, although meant kindly, sounded empty to Rachel and she was suddenly overcome with rage with the doctor. “It doesn’t matter now does it? The damage has been done,” she spat, she pushed one of the many buttons on the elevator’s panel and Susan hurriedly stepped back as the doors closed. Rachel turned to her reflection in the gold panelling and saw her face looking darker than she had ever seen it before. She looked so angry, so ruthless.
…
Kristian was standing on a packed underground train. As he looked around, he realised that it was not a London underground tube train, but in fact a New York subway train. Confusion invaded his mind. How? Why? His head filled with questions. He had not been to New York for ten years. Had Rachel brought him here? With that thought, he turned and gazed out of the doors. He saw Rachel standing on the platform with Sam and Jean in tow.
“It wasn’t me. I’m not doing this,” said Rachel. As she spoke, the doors of the train closed and the train prepared to leave the platform. Kristian frantically reached for the ‘open door’ button but before he could push it, it vanished from the panel on which it sat. Jumping back, he let out a gasp, what was happening? Turning and looking down the carriage, none of the faces seemed familiar. The people on the train all looked at him, moving their heads and gazed in sync, their mouths opened and they all spoke at once.
In unison the passenger chorus spoke, “Alone you must go,” Kristian flinched and took a step backwards; he grasped hold of one of the support bars to stop him losing his footing.
“Got to go where alone? What’s happening?” his voice was trembling with fear and bewilderment. The people on the train repeated their bizarre chant, “Alone you must go.” Then suddenly and oddly, they all went back to their previous mundane tasks, of travelling to work, reading their papers and pushing each other out of the way, marking their own territory attempting to gain some personal space in the packed carriage. Freaked out and scared, Kristian clutched hold of the nearest passenger to him, pulling the man to his feet.
“What’s happening to me? What’s going on? Who are you people?” he demanded. The passenger was completely flaccid, drooping in Kristian’s grasp. His face was emotionless and he stared right through him, as if he wasn’t there. Completely unresponsive, his deadpan, completely vacant eyes were glassed over and he could have been dead if it were not for the colour in his cheeks.
Kristian repeated his questions, pleading for answers, but the passenger remained unresponsive, he did not move nor utter a single word. Kristian slowly released him and the man flopped back into his seat.
Collapsing against the support of the train’s fabric, Kristian was mystified; he sought answers to a number of troublesome questions. He was completely baffled. How had he got here? Where was he? Moreover, why was he here? Who were all these people and why did they seem to know him one minute and then completely ignore him the next?
Kristian had never been in a situation like this before, and yet, somewhere in the back of his mind was a sense of familiarity, a feeling of déjà vu. It was inexplicable, but it was there. As he pondered on this thought, the train drew to a halt.
Kristian assumed the train had arrived at a station, but there was no place name, no passengers waiting on the platform. As the doors slowly opened, he had the sudden urge to jump off. Heading for the door he was just about to leap onto the platform when a tall, curly-haired man appeared from nowhere and stepped onto the train. Pushing past him, Kristian attempted to flee from the carriage but before he could get his foot over the threshold, the doors closed.
“This is not your stop,” said the curly-haired man who had just entered the carriage. Kristian immediately lunged at the man and wrapped his hands around his throat, lifting him into the air.
“Are you doing this to me?” Kristian shouted, his face turning blood-red with anger.
The man, who was taller than anyone e
lse on the train, and dressed in remarkably odd clothes, tried to smile at Kristian. “Perhaps, if you release me, maybe I can explain.” On hearing the whispered half-words, Kristian lowered the man to the floor and released his grip.
“What is happening?” Kristian demanded, but the man merely stared at him, grinning. He was wearing a strange robe and a waistcoat with symbols dotted all over it, symbols that Kristian could not quite make out but he was sure he had never seen anything quite like it before.
Suddenly, the man pointed towards Kristian’s forehead; Kristian returned the point with a look of exasperation, “I’m not up for playing mind games okay?” Kristian said sounding even more agitated.
Then, in an instant, the penny dropped for him. Kristian’s thoughts became concise and ordered; the answer came to him as he scratched his head, “Oh. You’re in my mind?”
“Well, in a manner of speaking,” the man replied, placing down a large blue suitcase on the floor; opening it he took out a white container and removed two chocolate cookies from it. “I’m not in your head, you’re dreaming my friend.” As he spoke he offered a cookie to Kristian.
Kristian shook his head in frustration, “No thanks,” he barked, “I’m good. So you’re in my dreams, which means you are in my head?” the man looked at him and then down at the cookie. He seemed to take the refusal of the biscuit as a personal insult. He then bit into his cookie and spoke, “Suit yourself, but these are very good cookies, and believe me I have eaten lots of cookies in my time. Oh, and to answer your question, no I am not in your head, I’m not really me.”
Kristian’s expression showed the baffled state of his mind, what did this stranger mean?
“Well, consider me as part of your dream; I’m merely an echo of someone you once met. The name is Zelupzs, but my friends call me Zel! My close friends call me something else.”
His words hit Kristian like a ton of bricks. The man’s face had seemed familiar to him and he suddenly remembered where he had seen him before. It had been a long time ago yet Kristian could still remember that day clearly now.
“Zelupzs,” Kristian uttered, “yes, you are familiar to me, you’re the man I met—” before he could finish his sentence, he turned and looked down the train, the memory came flooding back to him. “Here, I met you here, this is the day I met you.” Zelupzs nodded his head and pointed down the carriage to the very back of the carriage. Standing there were a man and a woman; Kristian was sure they had not been there before. They looked to be in their mid to late twenties, the man was reading a map of the city and the woman was holding several shopping bags. In front of the couple stood a young boy with blonde hair. His youthful face was filled with innocence, his smile would have melted the coldest of hearts.
Kristian stared at the boy, his appearance all too familiar to him, but it had been a long time since he had seen that smile. “It’s me. And that’s my mum and dad.”
“It is indeed,” said Zelupzs as he checked his watch, “and right about now is when it happened.”
Kristian just stood there motionless, his legs were frozen. The carriage rocked and a blinding white flash filled the whole train with bright light. As the light dissipated, Kristian rubbed his eyes, regaining his focus. The carriage went silent; every single person on the train seemed frozen in time. Everyone except Kristian, his younger self and Zelupzs. The young Kristian turned, his face changed. His smile no longer present, his happy joyful look was replaced with a look of fear. He began to tug on his mother’s jacket and tried to speak but no sound came out.
“Mum, Mum,” the older Kristian spoke in time with the boy, remembering the events of this day all too well. The younger Kristian then began to tug at his dad’s jacket, again mouthing more words, which the older version spoke loudly and clearly.
“Look Zel, I was so scared. I had no idea what was going on.” As he spoke, he turned and looked at Zelupzs.
“I am sorry,” replied the man. “My intentions were not to frighten you. I needed to speak with you. Do you remember what I said to you that day?”
Kristian nodded to imply he did and turned back to look at his younger self. There out of nowhere, another Zelupzs appeared at the end of the carriage and slowly began to make his way towards the younger Kristian. The boy was clearly startled; he could see no one else but this strange figure coming towards him. He tried to scream but yet again no sound came out. Backed into a corner, the young boy fell to the floor and wrapped his arms around his legs, closed his eyes and began to silently sob. After a few seconds, the Zelupzs of the memory knelt down and began to pry the boy’s arms away from his legs. He too began to speak but no sound came out of his mouth.
“Do you remember what I said to you that day?” repeated Zelupzs over Kristian’s shoulder.
“Every word,” Kristian replied, still fixed on the younger version of himself. The conversation between his younger self and the memory Zelupzs did not last long, no longer than a couple of minutes, although Kristian remembered it feeling like hours. After about a minute, the Zelupzs that spoke to the young boy vanished and as he went a bright white light flashed again down the train and the people in the carriage suddenly returned to life. Kristian’s parents looked down at the young boy as he sat near the door. They appeared to be shouting at him as he sat there wiping his tears. His father seemed to be very cross with his son’s outward expression of emotion, but the mother, realising that her son had been crying, soon softened and embraced him, stroking his hair and making shushing noises. The father rolled his eyes and continued to read his map.
“He was so mad at me, I don’t think he spoke to me for the rest of the day,” said the older Kristian. As he finished talking the train stopped at another station where his parents and his younger self left the carriage. The doors closed behind them, every other person on the carriage had seemed to vanish, leaving just Kristian with Zelupzs as they turned to look at one another.
“So you remember everything I said to you. Do you believe me now?” said Zel.
“Yes, I remember. Do you want me to repeat it to you or something? And as to whether I believe you, I think I always did. Even before the Order found me and before the joining,” Kristian spoke as he slowly made his way towards one of the empty seats and sat down.
“Yes, I would like you to repeat it to me; I want to know that you remember it all. I hate to rush you kid but this dream is nearly over and I need to be sure of what you heard.”
Kristian sniggered, it was defensive, and he always seemed to want to laugh when he was challenged. “Well, okay. You told me to read the Sagara prophecy. You told me that in seven years’ time I would be joining with a cosmological incorporeal being,” he sniggered, “you then told me that it was very important that I read some prophecy. I remember asking you why, and you said that I was in them. That the future that the prophecy describes would happen in my lifetime. Is that right?”
“Yeah, spot on kiddo!” replied Zelupzs winking.
“So is that the only reason to come to me tonight, to make sure I remembered?” Kristian asked, still perplexed, wondering what the significance of meeting Zelupzs really was.
“In a way, yes, but also to tell you that we do need to meet again. We have to meet again. You will need to find me,” Zelupzs commanded.
“Pardon me?”
“My friend, the dire parts of that prophecy are far beyond their planning stages; there are dark forces working overtime at this very moment. These forces are even more powerful than you could ever imagine. As he was speaking, he moved toward the doors.
“Well, what am I supposed to do about it?” snapped Kristian, “I’ve read that prophecy and to describe it as cryptic is an understatement. No one around me has the inclination or the time to be deciphering old dusty prophecies. If you really want me to do something, then perhaps furnish me with some names or dates that would be useful. Have you got anything, anything at all?” Kristian rose to his feet.
“Look, I wish I could give you more,
I really do. It’s not that I don’t know; I hate to have to remind you, but this is only a dream, I am merely an echo! I have only two more things left to leave with you. Firstly, there is more you need to read. George Caparin was a former Order member. He was very meticulous about recording absolutely everything in his life. The stuff around March 1919 is a most interesting read!
The train began to slow again as if coming to yet another station. “This is my stop, kid, not yours though; you’ve a long way to go yet,” Zel said as he looked fondly after Kristian.
“Wait!” shouted Kristian. “And the second thing?”
“Ah, yes, there is one more thing – Trafalgar,” Zel exclaimed as the train came to a halt; the doors opened for a second and he quickly exited.
Kristian appeared confused and before he could move the train doors closed. Not sure what Zel’s final word meant, he moved to the door and looked through the glass at Zel. Kristian could see Zel standing a few feet away and was struck by the fact that the strange man’s eyes were focused on a large poster to his right. Kristian followed Zel’s gaze and focused on the poster, he could see large white writing on a red background, and whispered the words as he read.
‘You can no longer Hyde, your battle of Trafalgar awaits’
Zel moved off as Kristian pondered over the message on the wall. As Zel neared the exit to the platform, he stopped once more, looked back over his shoulder and he shouted to Kristian over the noise of the train, “I like you kiddo, you’ve got a big heart underneath all that anger and pain,” as he finished speaking, the ‘open door’ button on the train materialised next to the door; Kristian immediately stretched out his hand and slammed the button quickly, fearing it might disappear.
Before the doors opened, Kristian yelled at the glass towards Zel in desperation, “I don’t understand! I’m not a hero. I can’t stop what’s coming.”
The Phoenix Chronicles: Alone in the Light (Book ONE) Page 12
