by Lisa Stone
Amit sat at the end of the back seat staring at her, unable to believe what had happened. All that work and planning – to end like this. But why had she died? Too much anaesthetic? Shock? It was possible. Or would she have died anyway, whatever he’d done and wherever she’d been? Perhaps her time had come, although he didn’t sign up to that.
Half an hour and they would have been home! Now what? What was he supposed to do? Calm down, he told himself again, and try to think what to do for the best. He couldn’t stay here on the hard shoulder of the motorway for much longer. The car might get hit by one of the lorries steaming by or be spotted by a passing patrol car. But what was he going to do with her? He couldn’t dump her here, it was too open, someone would see. Get off the motorway first and then decide, he told himself. Yes, that would be the next best step.
Hot and clammy despite the cold, he slammed the rear door shut and returned to the driver’s seat. He still couldn’t believe it. All his plans and hard work destroyed, just like that. But he needed to concentrate. He had a dead body in the back of the car.
The traffic was relentless. Starting the car, he indicated and began along the hard shoulder, gradually picking up speed as he looked for a gap in the traffic. Lorries lumbered by far too close. ‘Bastards!’ he muttered, his fists clenched. So much traffic, unwilling to let him in. Finally a car flashed its headlights and pulled back to allow him room. ‘Thank you,’ he said and gave the driver a courtesy wave.
Relieved, Amit checked the rear-view mirror but couldn’t see the old woman, which was good. Lying flat on the back seat, those passing wouldn’t be able to see her either. He’d get off the motorway at the next exit and then take the quieter B roads home. But what was he supposed to do with her once he arrived? How would he dispose of her body? He could smuggle her into his lab as planned, but what then? Bury her in the garden? Hardly. All that digging to make a hole deep and wide enough to hold a body; someone was sure to see. Alisha, or that bitch next door looking out of her bedroom window. No, he couldn’t risk burying her in the garden.
His original plan had been that after he’d brought the old woman back to life he’d drop her off somewhere and let whoever found her deal with her. She’d have been even more confused and wouldn’t have had a clue where she’d been or what had happened to her. She certainly wouldn’t have known who he was. If the police had launched an appeal to try to identify her and circulated her photograph, and if a member of staff at St James’ Hospital had recognized her, that was where the trail would have ended. He’d covered his tracks well, and the police wouldn’t have wasted much of their valuable time and resources on a confused old woman who hadn’t long for this world.
But all that had changed now, and had he known he was going to have to dispose of a body, he could have prepared for it. An acid bath would have reduced her to nothing, but he hadn’t bought acid, for never in all his planning had he imagined she would die like this!
He glanced in the rear-view mirror at the traffic behind and his breath caught in his throat. A police car was in the middle lane, three cars back. A routine patrol, he told himself, nothing to worry about, but he instinctively eased his foot off the accelerator as others were doing. A sign appeared to his left, showing the next exit, not far now.
He took a deep breath, tried to calm himself and checked in his mirror again for the patrol car. It was creeping slowly up the middle lane, two cars back now. Nothing to worry about. They wouldn’t be able to see in any more than anyone else in a car would, and even if they did, it was just an old woman stretched out on the back seat asleep. The police would go by and continue on their way.
Don’t act suspiciously and you’ll be fine. There’s no reason for them to stop you, he told himself. They’ll be looking for someone breaking the speed limit or driving an uninsured or stolen vehicle. Keeping his gaze straight ahead and with both hands gripping the wheel, he continued at the same speed.
After a few moments, he surreptitiously glanced in his wing mirror again and saw the police car was only one car behind now. He continued steadily at sixty miles per hour. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it draw parallel, but he kept looking to the front. It would pass soon and appear again in his line of vision. He waited as the three lanes of traffic continued to move together, no one daring to overtake the patrol car.
Suddenly he started as a car horn sounded to his right. Not the patrol car? Surely not? Not tooting at him? Perhaps it was tooting at the vehicle in front? His driving was perfect, he was doing nothing wrong, but he daren’t risk looking over to his right.
The car horn sounded again. No doubt this time. The patrol car gave a single wail of its siren, trying to attract someone’s attention. Not his. Please, not his. An icy chill ran up his spine. Another toot of the patrol car’s horn. He had to look now, he couldn’t ignore it any longer. He glanced to his right and met the gaze of the officer in the passenger seat, motioning at him.
Amit’s first thought was to put his foot hard down on the accelerator and try to outrun them, but that was ridiculous. There was nowhere to go; the motorway was full of traffic all moving at the same speed. Another wail of the siren and he looked to his right again, perspiration running down his neck and back. The officer was signalling, a circular motion, and he realized he was telling him to lower his window. With his hand shaking and bile rising in his throat, Amit lowered his car window. The officer did the same. Amit braced himself for being told to pull over.
‘Your hazard warning lights are on!’ the officer shouted over the traffic noise. It took a moment for him to appreciate what he was saying, then logic returned.
‘Thank you!’ Amit shouted and switched off the hazard warning lights. He’d left on from when he’d parked on the hard shoulder. Relief flooded through him.
The officer raised his window and the patrol car continued alongside for a short while and then, with its siren wailing, disappeared into the distance.
It was some time before Amit’s heartbeat began to settle. Had they not been called to an emergency, he was sure they’d been about to pull him over. He needed to get rid of the old woman as soon as possible. He might not be so lucky next time.
The exit appeared and he pulled off the motorway. It was dusk now, he was driving on dipped headlights. Another fifteen minutes and night would fall, and under cover of darkness he would dispose of her body. But where? He still had the same problem. Having left the motorway for the country route home, he was driving past farmers’ fields and rough grassland, but he didn’t have a shovel, so parking and digging a grave out here would be impossible. He also ruled out just dumping her in a ditch as she’d be found too quickly. The longer she lay undiscovered and rotting, the better.
The flooded quarry – of course! He should have thought of it sooner. On the far side of Coleshaw Woods was a very deep quarry. He’d seen it when he’d dumped the dead animals. It was used by anglers during the day but completely deserted after dark. Perfect for disposing of the old woman, and with hindsight he probably should have dumped the animals there too. He’d been surprised at the interest they’d created; the RSPCA had put out two statements, but they were well off the mark. They were looking for an illegal taxidermist not a respected anaesthetist. If he’d filled the sacks with bricks and thrown them off the bridge into the deepest part of the quarry they’d never have been found, and neither would the old woman.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alisha stared at the telephone in its rest as if it was red hot and would burn her if she touched it. If she was going to make the call, she needed to do so now. Amit was due home soon, and if she waited until another day she was sure she’d lose her nerve. It had to be done now, at this very moment.
Summoning all her courage, she picked up the handset and, with the brochure open on her lap, keyed in the number for ELECT.
It was answered on the second ring by a woman with an American accent. ‘Hi, you’re through to ELECT – Eternal Life Education Cryonics Trust. I’m T
ammy. How can I help you today?’
Alisha knew what she needed to say, but the words failed to materialize. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Would you like me to send you some information on our organization and the work we do here?’
‘No,’ Alisha stammered. ‘I’ve read your brochure. I have some questions.’
‘I’m sure you do,’ Tammy said warmly, trying to be helpful. ‘Most of our members had plenty of questions before they joined us. I’m here to answer your questions and help in any way I can.’
Alisha took another deep breath. ‘Do you need the permission of the person who is going to be frozen?’ she blurted.
‘Yes. Absolutely. Although we prefer to call it cryonic preservation rather than frozen. The patient isn’t frozen as such but is in a state of suspended animation.’
‘So you need permission, even if they’re a family member?’
‘Yes, except in the case of a minor, when the court’s permission is needed.’
‘So a husband couldn’t give permission for his wife to be frozen, I mean, preserved?’
‘No, we’d still need her authority. Think of it as part of the person’s will. Their last wishes.’
‘And there is no way round that?’ Alisha could feel her pulse racing.
‘No. We need the patient’s authority. Although it helps if their family are aware, to make sure they are properly looked after until one of our team arrives to stabilize them.’
‘What do you mean by looked after?’ she asked, listening for any sound that might suggest Amit was returning.
‘If a person dies in hospital, then they should be kept on life support until one of our team arrives. Sometimes the doctors and nurses on duty aren’t aware of this and the next of kin has to tell them.’
‘And if they die at home?’ Alisha asked, unable to keep the tremor from her voice.
‘Then we ask the next of kin to keep the body as cold as possible to stop cells deteriorating until we arrive.’
‘Then what happens?’
‘Our team member places them on life support, injects a stabilizing fluid into their veins and then puts them in an ice bath ready for their journey to us.’
‘When do they go into the tank?’
‘The tank?’
‘The big cylinders like the ones in your brochure.’
‘Oh yes, the aluminium containers. They are the final stage. That’s where the patient is kept until medical science progresses enough to wake them and cure their condition.’
Alisha braced herself to ask the next question. ‘Can anyone carry out this process at home or does it have to be in your laboratory?’
‘It’s always done here as it requires a lot of expertise and high-grade equipment.’
‘Even if the person was a doctor?’
‘It’s possible that in the future members might be able to cryonically preserve their loved ones at home, but not yet.’
‘Has anyone been brought back to life after going through this process?’
‘Not a person. But animals have, and preserving organs for transplant uses the same process. That has been going for many years. It’s only a matter of time before a human is returned to life. Personally, I think that probably someone already has.’
‘What makes you say that?’ Alisha asked, her stomach contracting with fear.
‘It’s a very short step between bringing back animals and humans, in science terms, but the implication for religion is enormous. It will take a lot of courage to announce it to the world and risk …’
But Alisha had heard enough. Saying a quick goodbye, she hung up and tried not to be sick.
Only a matter of time, she’d said, perhaps someone already has. How long did she have? Months, weeks, days? How close was Amit to taking that final step? She no idea and didn’t know how to find out. She should really leave now and get to a safe place where he couldn’t touch her. But that was impossible with Eva. Even if she managed to leave the house with her, where would she go? She needed help.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Amit’s car bounced slowly along the rough single-track lane, the old woman’s body secured in the back by the seat belts. It was pitch-dark now, no street lamps here, just the car’s headlights and a pale crescent moon that gave no light at all. Coleshaw Woods lay dense and deserted to his left and right. No dog walkers or bird spotters out at this time. Just him and the dead woman.
Gripping the steering wheel, he peered through the windscreen and continued in the direction of the flooded quarry. After half a mile, the lane opened into a small gravelled parking area. His car’s headlights illuminated the warning sign on the far side just in front of the wooden footbridge:
DANGER
DEEP WATER.
He continued across the car park, the tyres crunching over the gravel, and stopped a little way in front of the sign. He cut the engine but left the headlamps on. He’d need them so he could see what he was doing. He got out and the cold night air bit into him. His hands tingled from gripping the wheel and he rubbed them on his trousers to stimulate circulation. Opening the rear door, he reached in and released the seat belts. She smelt even worse now. He’d have to give the back seat a good clean to get rid of any bodily fluids that had leaked out.
Taking hold of the old woman’s lifeless body by the feet, he dragged her out of the car. Her head hit the ground with a dull thud and air escaped from her lungs, making him start. He needed to weigh her down before he threw her into the water and he’d have to improvise. He checked her clothes for pockets; her cardigan and trousers had them, which was good. He began scooping up handfuls of gravel and stuffing them into her pockets. They were soon full, but it wasn’t enough. He needed something heavy to make sure she sank and stayed at the very bottom of the quarry for good.
He looked around. There was nothing in sight. An owl hooted eerily from the depths of the woods and a twig crackled as though it might have been stepped on. The sooner he was out of here the better. He didn’t think he had anything heavy in his car, but on opening the boot, he saw the metal jack he carried with him in case of a puncture. It was certainly heavy enough, but how to attach it to her? He didn’t have any rope. His gaze went to the litter bin by the footbridge illuminated by the car’s headlights. It gave him an idea.
Amit went over and, gingerly lifting the lid, removed the black plastic bin liner. It reeked of dead fish, but the bag would serve his purpose. Tipping out the contents, he returned to the old woman and placed the jack at the very bottom of the bin liner. He then began pushing her body into the bag, head first and bending her knees to fit her in. Small and shrunken with age, she just fitted. He knotted the end firmly with the attached ties and lifted it to test its weight. Yes, he was sure it was heavy enough now with the combined weight of her body, the jack and the gravel. He glanced towards the woods. The air was still, just the faintest sound of water lapping from the quarry behind him.
He decided not to drag the bag to the bridge for fear of it ripping, so with a massive effort, he hauled it up and onto his shoulder. Jesus, it was heavy now with the jack and gravel. As he walked, he heard some of the gravel spill out of her pockets and into the sack, but it didn’t matter, the bag was sealed.
The car’s headlights showed him the way – up the wooden steps and onto the footbridge, his dark, distorted shadow a few steps in front. He continued to the middle of the bridge, his footsteps echoing on the wooden planks. Leaning over the handrail, he looked into the dark water below. He was sure this was the deepest part.
Heaving the bag from his shoulder, he rested it on the handrail first and then pushed it over. He heard it splash, saw it float for a moment as if hesitating and then gradually disappear in a pool of ripples. Satisfied she was gone for good, he began back across the bridge, relieved yet angry. Yes, he’d got rid of her, but all that fucking trouble for nothing! He was back where he started. Next time, he’d find someone younger, healthier and more robust, who wouldn’t die until it was
time and he said so.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Act normal, Alisha told herself. Behave as you would normally in the evening. Do what you usually do.
Amit said he wanted dinner, so she’d prepared it ready for his return. She checked the kitchen and then the living room. Everything seemed as it should. Seven o’clock; her insides were knotted into a tight ball. He could arrive home any time.
With a final glance around downstairs, Alisha went up to Eva’s room. She felt a familiar pang of guilt for having left her alone. ‘All right, love?’ she asked, going over and kissing her forehead.
‘Yes, thank you, Mummy,’ Eva said, and continued playing on the games console, the sound on low.
Alisha drew up a chair and sat beside her. The poor child. She was always content, it broke Alisha’s heart. She never complained or grew angry and frustrated at the life she’d been dealt. She accepted her lot and was grateful for anything she was given. But what stung most was that despite her father rejecting her and hiding her away, she still called him Daddy.
It wasn’t right to keep her shut up, Alisha could see that now. Although she’d gone along with it after what had happened at their last house where they’d been terrorized and their lives put in danger by the mob that had gathered outside, things had changed. Amit couldn’t be trusted. He was working to his own agenda, obsessed with finding a cure and bringing them back to life. She was sure it was a type of madness.
She wrung her hands in her lap as she looked at Eva absorbed in the game. She needed to get them both out of here, somewhere safe, for whatever time they had left. But how? She couldn’t possibly get Eva and her wheelchair down the stairs, and even if she could, they had nowhere to go. She was as much a prisoner here as Eva was. The only person she trusted was Emily. If she confided her suspicions about Amit, would she help them? It was their only hope. Once Amit was back and in his lab for the evening, she’d phone Emily, tell her everything she’d found out, including that she knew what had happened to Tibs, and ask for her help.
