The Lingering

by Brown, Ben

  Bouchard grunted, and said. “Me too.” The Frenchman turned his gaze to him. “Did you mean what you said to Samson?”

  Fairclough looked his friend in the eye. “Every word of it — are you in?”

  For a moment, Bouchard said nothing, then he nodded and whispered, “For the Boss, I am in.” He started stroking Kathryn’s hair, and began to sob. “And for ‘er.”

  Fairclough placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “They’ll all pay, I promise.”

  Chapter 32

  Location: The Royal Berkshire Military Hospital, (RBMH)

  Date: July 10th 2013

  Time: 8:12 a.m.

  Fairclough leaned through the window of the cab, and handed the driver a twenty-pound note.

  “There you go, mate. Keep the change.”

  The cabby glanced over Fairclough’s shoulder at the imposing building behind him. “I hope whoever it is you’re visiting is okay.”

  He followed the cabby’s gaze. “Yeah, me too. Anyway, thanks again.”

  Fairclough straightened and tapped the roof of the cab twice. The cab pulled away and he turned towards the daunting looking building.

  Fairclough always thought Victorian architecture seemed designed to crush the human spirit, and this building was no exception. To say the place looked grim was an understatement. How anyone could recover from anything in a place like RBMH, was a miracle in its self.

  He entered into the cavernous foyer and headed for the lifts, which were guarded by a young soldier. The soldier raised his hand, gesturing for Fairclough to stop.

  “May I see some ID please, sir.”

  Fairclough reached into his pocket and pulled out his identification. The soldier took it and eyed it carefully. After a few seconds of scrutiny, he handed the ID back and stood to one side.

  “Thank you, sir. Do you know what floor you want?”

  Fairclough nodded. “Yes, the third.”

  The soldier summoned the lift, and returned his attention to Fairclough. “Have you been to the RBMH before?”

  Fairclough glimpsed at his watch, as he answered, “Every day since my friend arrived here.”

  The soldier nodded solemnly. “This is my first day on duty, and I’ve got to say I’ve already had enough. The place is so bloody depressing.”

  “You can say that again,” chuckled Fairclough as he watched the floor numbers above the lift lighting one at a time.

  “Did you serve with your friend, sir?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “How was your friend wounded?”

  Fairclough’s mind turned to the naked and beaten body he and Bouchard found on Westbourne’s bed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t say.”

  “I understand.”

  The door to the lift opened, and with more than a little relief, he entered.

  Fairclough looked through the glass door, which opened into Dr Kathryn Bartholomew’s room. Bouchard already sat at her side, and the two were laughing.

  He thought she still looked thin, and very tired. His gaze drifted to the scars inflicted by Westbourne, and he could see they were fading. However, he could also see scars that would never fade, and they were deep.

  Each of Westbourne’s lashes had taken a small measure of her spirit; a measure which could never be replaced. The new Kathryn, the one laughing with Bouchard, would forever be a diminished version of her former self. He knew her new scars were invisible to all but those who knew her. They were scars on her spirit, and her soul.

  His eyes drifted back to her face, and he started thinking about the mission. He’d found it hard dealing with the memories of Australia. In fact, he found it harder than anything he’d ever dealt with before. Hell, he found everything hard. Eating, drinking, sleeping, breathing … all hard.

  But the thing he found the hardest was looking at Kathryn, and remembering what happened to Nathan. Somehow, looking at her seemed to make Archer’s death all the more real, all the more painful.

  He hated himself for wishing it were Archer in the bed, and not her. He hated himself for surviving when Archer hadn’t. He hated The Lingering, he hated the world, and he hated the constant pain he felt. Not physical pain, but a pain far worse – the pain of loss and grief.

  He knew his world had turned to one of hate, but try as he might, he couldn’t conquer the emotion. He felt that his feelings somehow meant Westbourne had won, but he tried to wipe those thoughts from his head. All that mattered now was making sure Kathryn had all the support she needed. After that, payback would come. Maybe payback would ease his conflicted mind, but he doubted it.

  As if sensing his presence, Kathryn looked in Fairclough’s direction. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

  His hand went to the door, and he joined his friends. “How are you feeling today, Kate?”

  Kathryn nodded slowly. “Yeah, a little better. They say I can leave in a few days.”

  Fairclough sat beside Bouchard, and placed a hand on the Frenchman’s shoulder. Bouchard offered his friend a broad smile, but Fairclough knew the Parisian was putting on a show for Kathryn.

  Since their return, Fairclough had pulled his friend out of countless bars, and countless brawls. If Bouchard wasn’t careful, he’d wind up in prison.

  “Well, you’re welcome to come and stay with me,” said Fairclough as he returned his gaze to Kathryn, “Bouchard and I have been given a six month leave of absence, and I’d like nothing better than to keep an eye on you.”

  “You’re not my dad, I’ll be fine.”

  Fairclough winced, her words carried an edge which cut him deeply.

  “I’m sorry, Pete, I didn’t mean to say that.”

  Fairclough smiled. “Forget about it. I will check up on you every day though.”

  She smiled and turned to Bouchard. “What about you, Lucien. Will you still visit me?”

  The Frenchman shook his head. “I ‘aven’t been coping with things too well, so I’m going ‘ome for a while. I’m going to stay with my sister and ‘er kids.” He looked towards the window, and a tear ran down his cheek. “I need to remember what it is to live. I need to put Australia behind me. Family will ‘elp me do that.”

  Kathryn swung her legs out of the bed, and moved to the Frenchman’s side. After a few seconds of just gazing at him, she wrapped her arms around his immense shoulders.

  Fairclough watched on, not sure how to react. With tears streaming down her face she looked towards him. She lifted an arm from Bouchard’s shoulders, and then offered it to him.

  He choked back his own tears, and joined his friends in the embrace.

  The three sat holding each other for close to an hour, only parting when a nurse came in to take Kathryn’s vitals. They spent another few hours chatting about anything other than the past. The past was still a raw, festering wound, which needed time to heal. So they left it well enough alone.

  Finally, Fairclough and Bouchard got to their feet and headed from the room. They accompanied each other all the way to the waiting cabs outside, but neither said a word. Bouchard got into the first cab, and Fairclough poked his head through the window.

  “Lucien, you know the promise we made, the one about finding everyone involved in Archer’s …” Fairclough looked at the cabby, then back to his friend. “… Well, you know.”

  The Frenchman nodded.

  “I won’t hold you to that promise, not if it’s going to hurt you further.”

  The Frenchman smiled at his friend. “Don’t worry about me, Pete. I just need a little time. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  Fairclough shook his hand, and for some reason, he knew it would be the last time he ever saw Lucien Bouchard.

  Chapter 33

  Location: Saint-Vincent Cemetery Paris

  Date: 10th September 2013

  Time: 2:18 p.m.

  Fairclough watched as Kathryn kissed Lucien Bouchard’s sister, Gabrielle, on the cheek. His mind moved to just a little over a week earlier, to the day he’d received the m
ost upsetting phone call of his life.

  He’d just finished breakfast when the phone rang. He left it for the answering machine to pick up, but on hearing Gabrielle’s voice, he snatched up the phone. He remembered how she told him of her brother’s suicide.

  He remembered her telling him how Lucien had placed a 9mm in his mouth, and blown his brains out. He remembered her telling him her nine-year-old son had found him. And he remembered her telling him of the simple note Lucien left. It simply read, ‘I’m sorry, Mon ami, but I’m not strong enough to keep our promise.’

  Gabrielle knew Lucien meant the note for Fairclough, because he’d written it in English.

  Both Kathryn and Gabrielle looked in his direction, and he smiled at them weakly. He felt like shit. He knew he should’ve kept a closer eye on his old friend, but he’d been too worried about Kathryn to think about much else. It was his fault Lucien was dead … no, that wasn’t true. It was Westbourne’s fault. His mind turned to those who had aided the old bastard, and he doubled his resolve to hunt every last one of them down.

  “You look tired,” said Kathryn as they shared a baguette beside the Seine.

  He looked at her and saw real concern in her eyes. He brushed some errant strands of hair from her face and said, “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine, Pete. In the last year you’ve lost everyone close to you, no one would be fine after that. Talk to me, let me help you.”

  “Kate, you have enough on your plate without worrying about me.”

  She took his hand. “Lucien kept things in, now look where he is. I know men like you can’t talk to shrinks, but you can talk to me. You listen to me all the time; now let me do the same for you.”

  He slipped his hand free of hers, and patted her leg. “Come on, I want to go home. If we hurry we can catch the seven o’clock train.”

  The two stood and Kathryn took him by the shoulders. “Pete, we’re family now. You’re like my brother, so please don’t let me end up like Gabrielle.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I won’t, I promise. And trust me, I never break my promises.”

  She hugged him and kissed his cheek. Then they began their long walk back to the Gare du Nord train station, where they would catch the Eurostar back to England.

  Chapter 34

  Location: Dr Kathryn Bartholomew’s lab, London

  Date: 18th November 2013

  Time: 4:16 p.m.

  Peter Fairclough exited the Westminster tube into the crisp cold air of London city. His breath hung in the darkening sky like a wisp of smoke. He pulled the collar of his coat up around his ears, and began his half-mile walk to Kate’s lab.

  By the time he arrived, the sky had yielded to darkness, and the temperature had dropped another two degrees. He pressed the bell beside the large black door of Kathryn’s lab, and turned to watch those passing by.

  “Pete, is that you?” chimed a familiar voice from a small speaker below the button he’d just pressed.

  He lowered his head to the speaker and said, “Yes it’s me. It’s freezing out here, so let me in.”

  “Where the hell have you been, I’ve been calling you for weeks. You’ve worried me sick.”

  “Look, Kate, can we talk about this in the warm.”

  “No! I’m not letting you in until you tell me what you’ve been playing at for the past month.”

  Fairclough rolled his eyes, and yielded to her demand. “I decided to go up to Scotland for some fishing, but my mobile didn’t have any reception up there. I didn’t get all your messages until I got back in range.”

  He waited for her response, and after a few seconds, a much calmer Kate responded.

  “You could’ve told me you were going — I was worried. Anyway, I’ll buzz you in.”

  Fairclough walked into Kate’s office, and she smiled at him from behind a large desk.

  “My, don’t you look important,” he joked as he sat across from her. “So why did you want to meet me here? Normally, we catch up at your flat.”

  Her smile turned into a beam that threatened to blind him. “I wanted you to be the first to see this.”

  She hit a button on the desk, and a monitor appeared from a slot in the mahogany. She turned the monitor towards him, and said, “Do you know what that is?”

  Fairclough looked at the monitor, and saw a cluster of cells. He shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “It’s what we went to Australia for. I’ve managed to create an antibody from the sample you and Lucien took from the ancient. You’re looking at a possible cure for The Lingering.”

  Fairclough’s eyes locked on the woman smiling at him. The mention of his friend’s name filled him with a pain that threatened to overwhelm him, and it took all of his willpower to force the pain back into the box he’d created for it.

  “What do you mean by, ‘possible cure’?”

  “I want to be cautious, because so many other treatments before this have failed. But in all honesty, I think this is the real deal. I believe we can adapt it to work not only as a vaccine, but as a cure for the infected too.”

  “You mean, no one will have to turn?”

  She nodded. “It’s still at least five years off from being ready for testing, but yes, I think we can finally say goodbye to The Lingering for ever.”

  Now Fairclough’s smile matched hers. “And you did all this from that one small sample Lucien and I took?”

  She nodded. “Now with the government in charge of Australia, I have access to an almost unlimited supply of samples. Of course that will change soon.”

  “Why will it change?”

  “The government isn’t feeding the ancients, for obvious reasons, and they’re fading fast. We will lose the last of them within a few months.”

  Fairclough couldn’t help but feel relieved. “Good job too, those things have inflicted too much pain over the years.”

  “I agree. I have teams collecting as many samples as we can get. We already have over two thousand, and we expect to gather a further four thousand before the last of them slips away. Pete, I promise the death of our friends wasn’t in vain.”

  “Is that why you asked me to come here, to sooth my guilt?”

  She sat back in her chair and looked at him for the longest while. Finally she said, “Yes, partly, but I also wanted you to see my work.”

  Fairclough got up from his chair and moved to the window. He placed a hand on the wall, and stared out at the night. Kathryn watched him and waited patiently for him to speak. After several minutes of silence, he opened up.

  “Nathan always put the mission first, even if it meant losing members of our team. It took a toll on him. I think he’d had enough of watching those around him being torn apart. I think, like Lucien, he wanted to die.

  “It’s taken me a while to come to terms with their deaths, and the deaths of all those I’ve served with. For a while there, things were pretty dark. I know I’m still not a hundred percent, but I’m closer to being okay then I was a few months ago. This cure makes it easier for me to accept their loss, and what we went through.” He turned back to her. “Thank you, Kate; you’ve done us all proud.”

  She moved to his side, and pulled him into a hug. “You know I love you. I’ve been so worried about you, and it’s great hearing you talk this way.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I love you too.”

  She pulled free of the embrace, and slapped his broad chest. “Let’s go out and celebrate,” she said as she wiped a tear from her eye. “You can buy me dinner.”

  He smiled. “You’ve got a deal.”

  Chapter 35

  Location: Arbutus restaurant, Soho, London

  Date: 18th November 2013

  Time: 10:36 p.m.

  Fairclough poured Kathryn another glass of wine, then settled back and loosened his belt. “That meal was magnificent.”

  Kate took a sip of her freshly poured drink and nodded. “The food is always amazing here.” She placed her glass on the table and beamed, “
Thank you so much for tonight, it’s been wonderful.”

  “My pleasure.” He paused for a moment, then leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Kate, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve been asked to be part of the team rounding up those involved in the feeding of the ancients. I ship out in the new year.”

  “I see, and what will be your role?”

  “Agents will locate the targets, and I’ll bring them in.”

  “Then it won’t be your job to …” she looked around to make sure no one could hear her, then whispered, “… eliminate them.”

  Fairclough fell back in his chair and laughed. “No, nothing like that. I’ll admit that at first I wanted to kill them all. But now, bringing them to justice will do.”

  Kate picked up her wine and took another mouthful. She stared Fairclough in the eye. “I suppose tonight is the night for coming clean. Pete, I’ve been seeing someone.”

  Fairclough smiled broadly. “Good for you, anybody I know?”

  “No, you don’t know him. His name’s Chris, and we used to work together years ago. Anyway, we started working together again, and one thing led to another.”

  “You like him?”

  “Yes, he’s kind, gentle and very attentive. I think I may love him.”

  “I thought you loved me,” quipped Fairclough as he poured himself a wine.

  Kate laughed and said, “I do love you, Pete, but like a brother.”

  “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride,” grinned Fairclough as he took a large swig of his drink.

  Kate smiled and slapped his hand. “How long will you be gone for?”

  Fairclough shrugged. “I’m not sure. Weeks, months, maybe even up to a year.”

  “Will you be able to keep in touch?”

  He nodded. “Most of the time, but sometimes I’ll be undercover.”