by Jay Mason
The room rocked around her. Alex realised she had nearly fallen face first onto the table. She pushed hard against it, feeling the solidity of the wood beneath her palms. It hadn’t moved, but her perception was lurching violently. Then she saw Rusty. He’d broken free of the circle and was moving towards Bethany his arms out in front of him.
“No,” cried Alex. “Don’t. Don’t touch her.”
But she was too late. A panicked Rusty reached out and shook the sobbing girl by the shoulders. “Give me back Bethany” he yelled.
“Leave her!” shouted Alex.
The cheerleader fell into Rusty’s arms. Her body was rigid as a board. She quivered and her eyes opened. Only now her eyes had rolled back into her head, so only the white was showing. Spit drooled at the edge of her mouth. Bethany gave a low moan and her body sagged in Rusty’s arms. He staggered under the impact of sudden weight. “Bethany!” he said desperately. He lowered the girl to the floor. He put his ear to her chest. “I can hear her heart. She’s still breathing. What do we do?”
Alex stood there looking at the unconscious girl. “I don’t know,” she said.
5. Into the Night
Rusty poured himself a glass of water from the jug at Bethany’s bedside. He knew it was meant for her, but it didn’t look as if she would be wanting some any time soon. Even so every few hours the candy-stripers came in and changed the water. Rusty went back to watching the slow drip-drip of the IV. It was easier to look at than Bethany’s face.
Alex found him in an almost hypnotic state. He fairly leapt out of his seat when she spoke his name.
“Any change?” asked Alex, putting the chocolates she had brought for Bethany on the bedside table.
“No,” said Rusty. “The doctors won’t tell me anything either.”
Alex pulled up an uncomfortable looking plastic chair. “That’s because you don’t count as family.”
“I’m her boyfriend,” said Rusty.
“I know,” said Alex, laying a hand on his arm. “But until they start issuing certificates for that no one is going to care.”
“Moving in already are we?” Savannah stood in the open doorway looking at them in disgust. Alex snatched her hand from Rusty’s arm.
“Hello Savannah,” she said in a level voice. “I was telling Rusty how sorry I am about Bethany.”
“Oh, I bet you were,” said the cheerleader, coming into the room and putting an enormous bouquet of pink roses at the end of Bethany’s bed. “Couldn’t wait to make a move, could you?”
“She was only being kind,” said Rusty.
Alex winced inwardly. Him defending her was the worst thing he could have done. Savannah tossed her hair — rather like a horse getting ready for battle, thought Alex. She could practically see the girl’s nostrils flaring. “You, dear innocent Rusty, might not understand these things, but I know a slut when I see one. A conniving, scheming …”
“That’s tautology,” said Alex.
“I don’t care what you call it,” said Savannah. “I call it making a move.”
Alex stood up. “I should go,” she said to Rusty. Then she turned to Savannah, “If you want to help your friend you could give me some more details on what your Lunchtime Club has been up to. Where did you get the ritual? The things you had in the room? That sort of thing? Even how long it has been going on would help me …”
Savannah cut her off rudely by shoving a hand in front of her face. “Whatever happened to Bethany is on you. You took Rusty and Bethany down there. I have no idea what freak show you planning on, but it obviously went wrong.”
“That’s nonsense,” said Alex. She could literally feel the edges of her temper fraying. “Bethany was showing us what you four had been up to. She asked for my help. She had started to hear voices.”
Savannah dropped her hand and moved in so close her breath was hot on Alex’s face. “Don’t you dare,” she spat, “don’t you dare try and lay this on me and my friends. If you know what’s good for you, you will stay well away from all of us. And that includes Rusty.” She stepped back and pointed to the door. “Get out, freak, before I call the staff and tell them how much trouble you’re causing.”
“I am trying to help,” said Alex. “Do you want her to die?”
“What?” said Rusty. “You think she might die?”
“She’s trying to scare you,” said Savannah, “Or she’s trying to make it happen. Is that it, Alex? Cos if I press this button her staff with come running. Most of them have known her from a kid. My dad works here. Who do you think they’ll believe?”
Alex sighed. “Sorry,” she said to Rusty. “I’ll do what I can.” Then she walked out. Behind her she heard Savannah speaking in scolding tones to Rusty. As if he is a misbehaving pet, she thought.
Alex had a remedial math lecture to go to, but she didn’t think she could bear sitting in that room listening to Mr Byron drone on and on about medium level calculus. She knew the equations inside out, so would have no difficulty passing the make-up test. She hadn’t counted on him constantly testing the class as he ran through what, to her, were painstakingly simple questions. She simply didn’t have the concentration to get things believably wrong today.
So instead she made her way home. In her mind she was turning over and over what had happened. What Bethany had said and done had been infantile at best. She could not see how something preternatural could possibly have occurred. There must be a connection with the entity she had encountered in the tunnels, but she could not see how. It was always possible Bethany was faking or it was some kind of stress inducing hysterical paralysis. Bethany was certainly high-strung enough to scare herself stupid — but into catatonia? It didn’t seem likely.
She was going to have to be careful about Savannah too. The girl was obviously scared and lashing out. She was desperate that no one knew what the four of them had been up to and would be delighted to make Alex the scape-goat. How could she avoid that and yet still investigate what was going on?
Back in her bedroom, Alex composed a lengthy email to c0nundrum outlining what had happened. She ended it with Any thoughts? She was aware she was the closest she had ever been to asking for help from a stranger, but seeing Bethany, ice-pale, lying in the bed, hooked up to both an IV and a ventilator, she had realised how high the stakes were. Savannah and Rusty might be putting their trust in the local doctors, but Alex was convinced that unless she could undo whatever Bethany, and the others, had done, there would be nothing they could do. In some ways it was her fault, thought Alex.
“Alex,” called her mother, “can I see you for a minute.”
Alex closed down her machine and went to see her mother in an unusually contrite mood. “Hi Darling,” said her mother, who was elbow deep in flour, “we’re having a little dinner party tonight. I know it’s terribly short notice, but do you think you could invite one of your friends to come along?”
Normally, Alex would have argued that she didn’t want to be part of it, but she simply didn’t have the fight in her this afternoon. “Who?” she asked.
“What about the pretty girl who was here?”
“She’s in hospital.”
“Oh dear, nothing serious I hope,” Irene continued without leaving space for Alex to answer. “What about the charming young man who actually appreciates my cooking.”
“Rusty, yeah. I could ask him,” said Alex. “What time?”
“Seven o’clock,” said her mother. “Alex are you feeling quite well.”
“I’m fine, Mum,” said Alex and went back upstairs to call Rusty.
“Brush your hair,” called her mother after her.
“It’s not going to be a fun party or anything,” said Alex. “I’m not that unfeeling. But I think we should get together and talk. We can get some time together after dinner. I need someone to go through what happened with me. I must be missing something.”
“I need to stay with her,” said Rusty. “I only caught your call, because I couldn’t bear Savannah
any longer. She has to go soon. I don’t want to leave Bethany alone. She might be frightened.”
“You can leave your number with the hospital and ask them to call you if anything changes,” said Alex.
“I’m not a relative,” said Rusty.
“Okay, her parents like you, don’t they?” She couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Rusty. “Ask them to call you, if anything changes. You’ve been there for hours. I bet you haven’t eaten a thing.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Alex took a deep breath. “Look, Bethany needs us to figure out what is going on. It’s pretty clear Savannah isn’t going to help. What’s more if I come back to the hospital she is going to do her best to stir up shit. She needs someone to blame.”
“But we made her do it,” said Rusty. “It’s our fault.”
At least he isn’t saying it’s mine, thought Alex. “No, it’s not,” she said. “There is no way the words Bethany said could have done anything. It has to be something the group of them did before.”
“So how can we figure it out?” said Rusty hopelessly.
“We can talk. Maybe she told you something important and you didn’t realise it at the time,” said Alex desperately. “Besides if you don’t take care of yourself and make yourself ill, what help will you be to Bethany when she does wake up? She’ll need you then.”
“Oh okay,” said Rusty. “When did you say?”
Alex put the phone down. She felt dirty. She knew she had manipulated and emotionally blackmailed Rusty into coming over. Did she need his help or was Savannah right? He was the first decent person she had met at college. She didn’t know him well, but she thought he was a good person, and someone who didn’t deserve to have an empty-headed, fashion obsessed cheerleader as a girlfriend. He deserved better. Do I mean like me? She thought. When, or if Bethany woke up, Alex doubted she would be any nicer than before. Except that was the kind of thing you weren’t allowed to say, was it?
Rusty rang the doorbell at quarter to seven. He had obviously made an effort. His shirt was ironed — and not a T-shirt. Instead of jeans he was wearing slacks. Even his shoes looked polished. He’d used something on his hair, so it lay almost flat against his head, instead of sticking up in all directions. It made him look older and more serious. “You like you’ve escaped from the nineteen twenties,” said Alex.
Rusty looked confused.
“Your hair. Very deco?”
“You’ve lost me,” said Rusty.
“Old fashioned and formal,” said Alex, deciding not to try and explain the dominant art movements of the early twentieth century on the doorstep. “All you need is a jacket.”
“I could go home and get one,” said Rusty, looking worried.
Alex dragged him in by the arm. “I doubt my dad has even found a clean shirt,” she said. “You haven’t met him yet. He always dresses as if he is expecting to stumble into an eighties student sit-in.”
“You have a thing about dates, you know,” said Rusty following her into the lounge.
Whatever Alex might have said in response, never made it from her brain to her lips. Her parents were waiting in the lounge. Her father wore a green linen suit, currently crease-free; he had a distinctly respectable air. Alex noticed there were slightly shiny patches at the elbows and the jacket hung open enough to suggest buttoning it up would not be easy. But her mother was the real surprise. She wore a waisted golden silk dress that flared out into a wide skirt covered in large blue and purple flowers. On her feet she had neat bronze court shoes. Her hair was loose and had been tamed into a shiny bob. Alex stood their staring. Rusty had to move around her. He went forward holding his hand out to Irene. “Thank you so much for inviting me, Mrs Morgan,” he said, offering her a box of mints. “It was very kind of you.”
Irene fairly beamed. “This is the boy, I was telling you about Lewis.”
“Hi,” said Alex’s father. “Got you in a formal get up too, have they? Women, huh?”
Alex blushed. “Dad!”
“Say Rusty, are you a biologist, by any chance?”
“More a chemist really.”
“Shame,” said Lewis, earning a whack on the arm from his wife that he ignored. “So you won’t be familiar with the knowledge that the duck billed platypus is the only mammal that lays eggs.”
“I think I had heard that before,” said Rusty.
“But have you ever had a platypus quiche? That’s what we’re having tonight.”
“Oh, we are not,” said Irene. The doorbell rang again and she hurried to answer it.
“Believe me it will taste of platypus. Irene might …” He cut of his sentence as Irene returned with their guest. Alex turned to see Dr. Straker standing in the door way. Immediately her heart started to beat faster. She broke out in sweat. She wanted to run from the room, but he was in the way. Vaguely she registered her mother introducing Rusty, who surprised her by responding politely. Then her mother brought him over to her.
Riverlets of sweat ran down her spine into the small of her back. Her vision seemed to darken at the edges as he grew nearer. She could hear a faint but painful buzzing and she felt as if her legs were about to crumple under her.
“Goodness,” said Dr. Straker, “this young lady looks as if she needs to sit down.” He took Alex by the elbow as she felt herself about to collapse and guided her to a chair. She felt far too aware of his hand on her arm. He gently pushed her down into the seat. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Sorry. Must be the heat.”
“Oh honestly, Alex,” snapped her mother. “It is far cooler this evening than it has been for days. She can be such a drama queen. I apologise Dr. Straker.”
“Not at all Irene. She definitely seems a bit under the weather to me. We are having an Indian summer and the heat takes its toll on all of us. Especially those used to milder climes. I dare say you don’t even notice it, do you Rusty?”
Rusty shrugged. “Is that something I smell burning in the kitchen,” said Lewis.
Irene fled. “Can I get everyone a drink?” said Lewis. “Are you old enough to have a beer, Rusty? I can never keep track of which state allows what. Or we could decide this is British territory and say over eighteen is okay.”
Rusty gratefully accepted a beer. Dr. Straker gingerly accepted a bottle. Alex snuck out to the kitchen to get a drink of water. She found her mother frantically waving a tea towel over a smoking quiche. She ran the facet and got herself a glass of water. It tasted cold and metallic. She pressed the side of the glass against her forehead. Whatever had made her feel so ill was fading. “If you cut of the edge of the pastry crust, it will be fine,” said Alex. “I hear they do that in posh restaurants all the time.”
“Really?” said her mother, sounding genuinely grateful.
“Can I do anything?” asked Alex.
“Just get them into the dining room and don’t you dare faint again!” snapped her mother.
The quiche didn’t taste burnt, but it did taste strange. It wasn’t so much unpleasant as simply not right. The sugary-lime dressing on the accompanying salad made Alex deeply fearful of what was to come next.
Dr Straker had swapped his bottle of beer, barely touched, for a glass of white wine. Irene kept trying to top it up and the doctor appeared to have no objection. Lewis kept himself and Rusty supplied with bottles of beer. Alex stuck to water.
“Most interesting,” said Dr. Straker as he neatly laid his knife and fork down on the plate.
“Thank you,” said Irene.
“Not sure that was a compliment, darling,” said Lewis, winking at Rusty. “Still I’m sure Dr. Straker is used to experiments.”
“Alex could see her mother reddening. She took a deep breath. “I’ve never been sure what the Center actually does, Dr. Straker. My parents don’t speak about their work. I’m sure I wouldn’t understand anyway,” she gave a little laugh, which sounded ghastly even to her. “And I know a lot of it is probably secret, but what can you tell us about what you do in a general sort
of way?”
“Alex, Dr. Straker is here to relax and have a nice family dinner,” said Irene.
“No, it’s fine Irene,” said Dr. Straker. “I enjoy explaining what we do and it is always good when the young people show an interest. Simply put, Alex, we are attempting to push forward the boundaries of sciences in chemistry, biology and the medical sciences. We want to create a better world. One free of disease. In particular we tackle genetic diseases. We want to rid the world’s population of inheritable problems like MS, some cancers, fibromalygia — all those disorders that have a genetic component. If we can change the genes either in vitro or in young adults then we will be able to save future generations from such damaging conditions.”
“That’s sounds like a very laudable ambition,” said Alex sincerely.
Dr. Straker smiled. “Thank you. It is my life’s work. If only everyone was as easy as you to convince of our vital existence.”
“Money,” said Alex’s dad. “Takes a huge amount of money to do research.”
Dr. Straker nodded. “A lot of my work is convincing industries to back us and of course reassuring people.”
“What do you mean reassuring people?” asked Rusty sharply.
“You know how it is, Rusty. People are always scared of the unknown. They fear we are delving into things man was not meant to know!” He said the last few words in a mock scared accent. Irene laughed. “Honestly,” she said, “some people would have objected to Marie Curie’s work or penicillin!”
Dr. Straker smiled. “Sometimes it is only the brilliant minds like yours and Lewis that see clearly what needs to be done. I mean if we could transport a man from the middle ages into the modern era he’d think we were all wizards! So many things you young people take for granted like the Internet, for example, must seem unbelievable to your own grandparents.”