by Dan Yaeger
There were two faces I could see before going out; a young man with glasses, short hair and dark skin in a white coat, perhaps Indian. I remember his eyes that held intelligence and curiosity. The other face was a very attractive woman with Mediterranean looks in a nurse’s outfit. Whatever the ugly toad of a man had injected me with took consciousness away from me. Those two faces stuck with me and I experienced strobe-like frames in time. I was drawn to them, as if I could sense goodness, intelligence and reason in them.
I tried to talk but could not; a statue on display in a gallery, so much to tell but no words to say them. I was haunted by the fact Jen’s life depended on me and I couldn’t help. I was paralysed and my mind went into a chemically induced slumber, filled with ill-feeling and terror. The terror passed and I slept, having strange surreal dreams.
I woke to what I thought was heaven. Everything was white and clean; clinical. I realised I was in a hospital or medical facility. The young man in the white coat and the lovely woman in a nurse’s uniform were there. While the young man, I presumed a scientist or Doctor, seemed to be dressed legitimately, the nurse seemed to be oddly attired. As my senses returned, she looked more like a sexy nurse in dress-up than a real one. The Doc must have wanted to have eye-candy out for general consumption and to display his power; this nurse would not have dressed as she did by choice. I made a mental note; more signs the Doc was a despot and narcissist. From what little I had heard and seen of the Doc, I hated him and everything he was. The nurse in her outfit was a reminder of the dehumanising scumbag I was dealing with. Despite what the woman was wearing, she had been caring for me and deserved manners and my respect.
Still feeling the effects of whatever had been in the dart Elsom hit me with, I tried to speak again, not knowing if I could or not. But the words came this time. “Hello,” I yawned and lay mildly upright in the position the bed afforded me. My breath must have smelt like a toilet. I could see a mild revulsion as the young man pulled back from me. He smiled and said, “Angela; our guest is awake,” smiling broadly. She smiled back at her friend and then looked to me, reaching out to touch my face and examine my eyes.
“Hello!” She said warmly with an accent. The young man also smiled and said “Welcome. You are welcome,” returning his gaze to the nurse and nodding.
“Where am I and who are you?” I said pleasantly but coolly.
The young man looked to his colleague and nodded, as if to suggest she should go first. “My name is Angela. I am a nurse and one of the people who resides, well is stuck, here at the Rock.” She said this with a shyness and lovely accent. “Italian?” I asked. “Yes,” she smiled with a perfect set of white teeth. “I was on a working holiday and ended up here in Cooleman, of all places!” She laughed like a song. “Well you are a long way from Rome,” I said. She blushed a little. “Rome; we talk of Rome later. Now, hold still.” she went from fun and friendly to a professional nurse in an instant.
As she moved in and began a routine set of checks, the young man addressed me with his answer.
“I am Raja Sharma, Raj to my friends. I am a student here, studying the virus-“ he said, Angela interrupted. “No, you are not just a student you are a doctor in research and an associate professor,” she said mildly, if not slightly scolding of her friend who was clearly being modest. “Yes, yes,” he said, downplaying is credentials. “We are looking for a cure, my friend. You may have the key for us.” He said frankly. “Perhaps when we have a cure, I will be more forthcoming with my credentials and achievements. Then I can be proud.” He looked at me and smiled. I liked this guy; he was genuine and wanted to help the world in the darkest of times. These two people were very different to the people in the squads I had encountered. The intellect of the man was obvious and his humility and obvious contributions to the scientific community were in stark contrast to the narcissism of the Doc.
As the checks continued, Raj worked to help Angela with some obvious teamwork and symbiosis. He told me that he was from India and was working with a number of leading Universities in Australia when the Great Change had happened. He had gone from working on treatments and therapies for ailments like diabetes, thyroid disorders and metabolic problems to studying a cure for the survival of humanity. Some of what he talked about was familiar and understandable, other parts and details where beyond my understanding. He seemed knowledgeable and clever enough to take complex concepts and explain them to me, however. The crux of the conversation was that they had all the knowledge of the Divine virus itself and something to keep it from turning people; stem cells, found in mother’s milk, in this case. What they lacked was the all-important antibodies of an immune survivor like me. “That is why you are so precious to us Mister Jesse,” he said with a genuine finality. “We have great hopes that you will offer us insights into how you continue to live untouched by the virus. You will be the remedy, I am sure.” I felt like I was part of something special. “For Jen,” I thought, tearing up.
By that time, Angela was finishing up her checks
A nod was all I needed to know they hadn’t done anything too serious. Nonetheless, I was busted up pretty bad. My list of injuries were soft tissue damage almost everywhere, cracked ribs, bruised liver and kidneys and a nose that had been softened up enough to rate a mention. She made it clear that I needed to be left alone, not beaten or mishandled, for at least a week. Angela was a good, bossy nurse and I listened. I hoped my other captors would get the same message. “They will not touch you, mark my words,” Raj said bitterly, concerned about ongoing bad treatment.
She reminded me of Jen as she moved around me and gave me a diagnosis; women’s ways. She was very different to Jen but also lovely. I had been missing women in my world for too long and I was captivated nonetheless; it stirred a memory, an important memory. I was not focused, tranquilised until then. In a moment I realised the gravity of time: infected Jen.
“Jen!” I thought and said aloud. I knew I had failed to keep her alive and my past-tense thought about what had been was testament to the initial feeling of loss. It was a timely reminder to get onto saving the one I agreed to share everything with. My mood changed from cool to a little frantic as I tried to understand if it was hope or disaster; “How long have I been here?”
Raj looked at Angela and shrugged, “About 3 days, Jesse.” They looked at each other quizzically, clearly not sure of what I was asking and wondering about my mental state, given the clear anxiety. “Yes, three days.”
“Three days?! No, it can’t be!” My heart broke and I wept like a child. Angela sat beside me and put her arm around my shoulders. “Oh, it isn’t that bad. You won’t die here, you may be the cure to this horrible mess we are all in.” “Jesse, you are precious to us, we will do everything to take this forward and keep you alive too,” Raj was genuine once more. But they didn’t understand. As I composed myself a little, I revealed my situation.
I shook my head “It’s not that,” I said. I looked at them with sad eyes that leaked more emotion: “Poor Jen,” I cried. “She had to pass alone.”
In a moment, they “joined the dots” and understood I was connected to Jen, someone they also knew. I tried to sit-up a little and realised I was strapped in, strapped down and not going anywhere. “Jennifer Jensen; you know her somehow?” Angela asked, wide-eyed and somewhat in disbelief.
“An asylum bed? What the hell?” I shouted and strained against my bonds for drama. I had never been in a mental ward but the bed and the clinical conditions around me added to the panic. I flexed my muscles for the first time in days. My movement was enough to reveal the Gryphon on my chest, my gift from Jen. “Calm down,” Angela tried to soothe me. “Where did you get this?” she asked, urgently. “From Jennifer? You know her? Where is she” she asked, hurriedly. Raj looked worried and alarmed too; clearly a friend wanting to know news. My angst reduced at the utterance of her name; she had my attention and I would tell my story.
I told them everything Jen-related. From the Alamo a
t Tantangara to how Jen and I met, to how I was hunting for food and how I was captured. At the end of my tale, she revealed her connection which was obvious in some way.
“Jen was here Jesse, Jen was one of us. Oh I miss her, she was great.” Angela said, talking of her as someone who had already passed. Raj them spoke up and revealed some information that made sense; “She had been in the Army, a reservist I think, and was a medic and nurse here. We worked closely together and I regard her as a very good friend.” Raj looked terribly saddened. “We hoped that she made it out there somehow.”
“Yes, she worked with us but the Doc, that bastard, he tried to have something with her,” Angela implied the Doc wanted to have Jen for himself. “He said he really only needed one nurse and one that produced the-“it was her turn to lose her shit. She broke-down and cried and I leaned into her as best I could, given my bonds. Angela did that funny hand flutter ladies do, across her face and eyes, and wiped some tears away. Raj continued where Angela couldn’t: “Jen was not producing enough milk and was put out into the squads. I think something else went wrong with her and the Doc. He hated her and put her out there.”
Angela cleared her tears and concluded, “She suffered, Jesse, but she survived.” Angela looked into my eyes asking me to acknowledge what she was saying. I thought of Jen and I did, nodding.
I was shocked that Jen had kept such a secret from me but it was like a weight had lifted off me. It was as if I was saying “was that all?”, almost glad that was the vail I could not see past.
“She was a sister, a good woman. We loved her dearly. Oh Jesse, I cannot tell you what it was like to see her leave us in the Pen to the tents and the beasts outside,” she looked down and continued to shake her head slowly while her hands shook nervously. “I loved her.” I said simply, looking at the blank white sheets, finding no answers but sorrow. There was so much unsaid and I knew Jen’s future had been decided. Raj patted me on the shoulder in caring way; the three of us there commiserating what seemed to be inevitable; Jen was gone.
I had lost all hope but had to ask; “Could she still be alive after 3 days? She was producing milk, probably not a lot but it was milk-“. Angela cut me off with a whimper and shook her head. “No Jesse, no. I have seen so much of people turning. She was my friend and I would tell you if I thought she was alive. She would have turned, yesterday at the latest.” Raj nodded, indicating support for the prognosis. Two experts, one opinion: Jen was no more.
My broken heart was shattered with a sledgehammer.
Angela then looked me in the eyes, almost angrily, and said. “Don’t tell anyone about Jen or where you live. If the cure does not work, you or any of us would not want to be followed there. They must never find your home. Can we go there? Can we come with you? Can we escape Jesse?” Angela turned from sad to stern to pleading, almost frantic, and shook me until my ribs made me wince. Raj was also asking; “We want to be free as well, don’t leave us here, please?”
I nodded and said “Of course- Yes.” I said emphatically and she stopped shaking me, getting the message. They both exhaled and realised the needed to compose themselves. After all, I was still strapped to the bed and a long way from being in a position to save them.
“We need you and everyone else to be cured first. We need a cure. Jen can’t have died for nothing.” I wiped my eyes and continued; “Who else-”
I went silent as the door swung open in two awkward pushing motions. A toad-like creature, Dr Penfould, shuffled in and stuffed up what was meant to be a dramatic entrance.
“Nurse, have you done your checks, how is the patient?” It was like a little boy trying to copy the medical dramas from television. Raj answered instead, trying to take the burden off his emotionally rattled friend. “Yes Doctor Penfould, we are satisfied that he is stable but needs to be left to recover.”
The Doc pursed his fat lips and looked at Raj with bitterness. “I didn’t ask you, Raj. Angela, what of this patient?”
I felt like saying “Dickhead, I am right here! You don’t have to talk about me.” But I watched him, gathering information and my opinion of this man. He wouldn’t look me in the eye and I continued to measure him as less than a man.
“Doctor,” Angela cleared her throat and looked down, not making eye contact with me or the creep, “He is in generally good health, despite the bruising and injuries from his fight with your squads.”
“Hmmm, yes, good. He looked at a clipboard she handed to him with some notes. “Our squads, Angela, our squads. Don’t you forget it, either, or I will re-introduce you to them for a date.” He looked at her coldly and she nodded. “Very good. Anyhow-“
I decided to interrupt and ask “So you are the Doc, Doctor Key-en Pen-fowled?” I asked, pronouncing the name quite phonetically. I asked the question with a cool, muted rage.
He regarded me and my confidence with fear. I hadn’t been winged like the rest of them, the bastard could see that. His people there were dominated by the promise of a cure, and he had nothing over me except the bonds on my arms. Others were bullied by the cure, but I wouldn’t be. I promised myself that his reign would end with me: for Jen. My fire, my passion for making a difference now had an additional objective in life’s plan.
The strange little man responded after a moment’s pause; regarding me fearfully and with curiosity. The fabled dragon was sitting right in front of him. “No that’s not right! It is Key-en Pen-fold” trying to say it with an imitated high-English accent as if to say he was regal, educated and western. I picked up on something and went with it.
“What is that name Kian? Is it Vietnamese?” I was right on the money and the Doc was uncomfortable, red and angered to have his Emperor’s “new clothes” pointed out. It was something that wasn’t important to most people yet he was rattled by it. “Good I thought,” I had worked out one area I could target; I would damage that which he held sacred in his view of himself as the colonial-era king of the Rock. “No, no. I am not Asian.” He said in complete bare-faced lie and farce. This farcical situation was like the corporate world or global politics I endured from before the Great Change.
Deliberately not indulging him, or the norms he had established at his glorified prison, I addressed him bravely and honestly. “Well you look it: Asiatic. Speaking of looks, it looks like you got enough of the red stuff from me to cure all your people here,” I pointed with my hand, bonded at the wrist, to my other arm and then to a host of blood packs containing my blood beside the bed. They had been draining me for 3 days, just enough so I wouldn’t go into shock.
“Good for you,” I continued confidently. “But I would like a few doses of cure, my rifles and gear and would like to be on my way.” The devil could not look me in the eye as he knew that I knew he was in no concern for my health at all. He was more worried about Angela’s lack of commitment or connection to the squads. I dared not reveal my link to Jen or think of it or I could have crumbled, cried and given into that despot.
“Well that’s no way to greet a gracious host. I want to get to know you, hear all about you. We want you to stay here, here at the Rock.” He gestured pompously with his pipe, not realising he put ash all over his pristine white doctor’s jacket. “Be my guest, recover from you injuries, it’s the least I could do.” The smile was awful and queasy.
I should have kissed the cobra but instead I wanted to assert my freedom and opinion. “Well, that’s fine.” I said, making it clear I was choosing to stay. In reality, I was a prisoner who would exploit the opportunity and find out about his plans and longer-term intentions and, if humanly possible, free those who were being milked and exploited.
But I was a prisoner, nonetheless. “I’ll accept your invitation to dinner, thanks,” I caught his eyes for a moment; he blinked at the response. “But get these damned straps off me and return my gear in the meantime.” That was an order and not a request. Dr Penfould scowled at this. He still couldn’t deal with this unusual rebelliousness so he shook his head and said, “No,
you need to be held for your own safety. It will be just until you are settled before dinner. Angela, sedate him again please. Goodbye Raj.” he turned and puddled out of the room with his weak legs. Penfould was unable to face the confrontation nor the to issue me with a goodbye. The strange doctor left, defeated, struggling with the idea that I personified his breakdown in power.
“That man has no humility or credibility,” Raj was angry for the first time in our brief acquaintance. Angela shook her head with disgust. She didn’t sedate me as she had been ordered. It showed the Doc’s control was tenuous with at least two of his people.
She and Raj just slumped onto the bed, like old buddies visiting a friend in hospital. I almost laughed and asked, “this is great, the connection and feeling so comfortable with each other. But how do you guys know I am a good guy?” I was perplexed at their trust.
Raj responded in a way that reaffirmed his intellect. “Your journal from what you call the Waystation was brought back. Angela and I took the time to read it. Like you, we take the time to understand; thoughts, people, phenomenon, laws and reason. That and you are a friend of Jen means you are of a like mind and good character.” I appreciated the sentiment and the clever people I found myself with.
We sat there, in silence and with an understanding. They could have released me and I could have run like a jack-rabbit. But I knew and they knew I was there to help; the remedy to the virus and to the Rock.
Our silence was broken as Elsom entered the room; on guard with an AR-15 assault rifle of some custom type. “Raj, Angela,” he said with a stiff nod to both people he had little connection with. “Mr Elsom, how are you?” Raj said, almost sarcastically. The question was ignored and the soldierly Elsom was straight to business.
“Is he under control?” he looked a little nervous and fearful but did his job anyway. “Yes, I sedated him,” Angela lied and I liked her style. I was definitely no guest; imprisoned under threat of deadly force. Upon that revelation, I knew the extent of that place; “the Rock”, an Alcatraz, a prison.