The balding doctor filled two vials with blood then positioned a small wad of cotton wool over the puncture wound and told her to press down on it. He placed the two small tubes on the bedside cabinet and affixed a piece of surgical tape to hold the cotton wool in position.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said, not looking at the girl as he wrote on the labels.
“What do you need it for?” she asked.
The man waited until he had finished writing then turned to face her. “You know we took that sample a few weeks ago? Well, we’re just checking up on something. How are you feeling anyway?”
“Actually …” The girl paused for a second, deciding how to answer. “I’ve been feeling a bit sick the last few days.”
The doctor frowned and sat down on the bed. “About that. There’s something I need to tell you. I’m sorry, but I’ve got some bad news.”
The girl looked up sharply. “What? What’s wrong with me?”
“We think you’re pregnant. This blood test will help to confirm how far along you are, but it’s at least seven weeks.”
“How could I be? Seven weeks? I’ve been here for – what? – five. You’re saying I was pregnant when you brought me here? I haven’t had sex with a man, proper sex that is, for months and even then he wore protection.”
“Look, I don’t know how it happened, but I suspect it was while you were out of it on one of your trips.”
“That’s impossible. I’m never so far gone that I don’t know what’s going on in the real world. The drug heightens reality – it doesn’t replace it. You’re lying.”
“I wish for your sake I was, but unfortunately, it’s true. I don’t know how you got pregnant. All I know is that we went back over the blood tests, and it had already happened by the time you arrived here.”
“If I’m pregnant, why have you only discovered that now? I’ve been here for ages.”
“I’m really sorry. We were concentrating on treating your drug dependence. We didn’t realise you were pregnant, and you didn’t tell us.”
“How the hell could I tell you?” she screamed. “I didn’t bloody know.”
“I’m sorry, it’s very unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate? You tell me I’m going to die in a few months, and it’s fricking unfortunate? Christ, you people. So it’s too late for an abortion?”
“I’m afraid so. After four weeks, the chances of survival are practically zero, and you’ve already been in our care for five. I know it’s not good news, but you’re in a place where we can give you the best treatment throughout the pregnancy.”
“I still don’t know where this place is. Have you forgotten to tell me that too?”
“You’re in a state-of-the-art hospital. We have excellent facilities, and we’ll make you as comfortable as we can.”
“I don’t give a toss where I am or what facilities you have. Just get out and leave me alone.”
The doctor rose to his feet. “Once again, I’m really sorry to bring you this bad news. I’ll be back later to check on you again.” He crossed the room to the door, swiped his card at the reader and let himself out.
The girl clambered off the mattress and screamed at the top of her voice. Then for the second time during her stay, she lifted the bed and hurled it onto its side.
Chapter 14
Monday 24th May 2032
None of the Lessing family had left the house that morning. Dominic and Helen had phoned their places of work and Antimone her school, all claiming to be unwell. The weekend had passed in a haze as they tried to come to terms with the shocking news they had received the previous Friday. Antimone had gone over in her mind the events at Jason’s party, but the only rational explanation was that somebody had raped her when she was unconscious. How could that have happened at a busy gathering? Surely somebody would have noticed?
“I’m making a pot of tea,” Helen said, rising to her feet. “Does anyone else want one?”
“Yes, please,” Dominic replied.
“Antimone?”
Antimone shook her head. “No thanks.” She had already consumed one cup of coffee and two of tea that morning, and it still wasn’t yet ten o’clock.
The doorbell chime echoed through the house.
“I’ll get it,” came a call from the kitchen. The sound of footsteps preceded the scrape of the heavy wooden door opening.
“Who is it?” Dominic called.
His question was answered when Helen led Karen Atkins into the lounge.
“Can I take your coat?” Helen asked.
Kat shrugged out of the lightweight brown overcoat and handed it over. She wore a black skirt and a matching jacket over a white shirt. “Thanks”
“I’m just making a cup of tea. Do you want one?” Helen asked.
“Yes please,” Kat replied, taking a seat on one of the two green armchairs. “White, no sugar.”
“Have you got any news?” Dominic asked.
“Yes, but let’s wait until your wife returns. How are you Antimone?”
“Alright, I suppose,” Antimone said. “None of it seems real yet.”
“Yeah, a lot of people in your situation say that.”
The room descended into an awkward silence as they waited for the tea to arrive. Eventually, Helen bustled into the room carrying a tray on which sat three mugs and a plate of chocolate biscuits. Kat accepted the mug but declined a biscuit, conscious of the tightness of her waistband. When she had handed out all the drinks, Helen took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa to her husband, her hands resting on her lap.
“Well, we’ve made quite a bit of progress,” Kat began. “I spoke at length to both Mrs Baxter and her son and several other guests. I haven’t told any of them that you’re pregnant yet Antimone, just that you think you were sexually assaulted.”
“And what have you found out?” Antimone’s father said, leaning forwards.
“Well, we know the identity of the man who was arguing with Mrs Baxter and who was later seen fleeing through a broken window. His name is Daniel Floyd. He’s a convicted murderer who was released from prison three months ago after serving a nominal life sentence.”
“What was he doing at Mrs Baxter’s house?” Helen asked, concern etched across her face.
“I’m just coming onto that. He was arrested after his wife went missing. The police discovered traces of her blood in the boot of his car, and he was convicted of her murder even though her body was never found. He claimed he had nothing to do with it. The wife used to work as a researcher for Mrs Baxter’s company, and he apparently thinks she withheld vital information that could have helped clear him. Of course, she denies it, but it seems he still holds a grudge against her. Floyd and Mrs Baxter also have a bit of history together before he met his wife. By all accounts, they went out for a while just after they both left college, but then split up.”
“So what’s this got to do with Antimone’s rape?” Dominic asked.
“We have several eyewitnesses who spotted him at the house, including Antimone herself. We still have blood samples on record from the original investigation and from when he was in prison. We ran tests on the blood we took from Antimone last Friday, and we were able to create a genetic fingerprint for the baby. The analysis isn’t as accurate as it would have been had we taken material directly from the foetus, but at this stage of the pregnancy that’s far too risky. In any case, it’s good enough to identify the father with a high degree of probability.”
“And …”
“It appears that Mr Floyd is the rapist. There is a very strong correlation between his genetic material and that of the baby.”
Antimone gasped and held a hand to her mouth.
“But why would he rape Antimone?” Helen asked.
“We don’t know that, but we intend to ask him when we catch him.”
“So you haven’t caught him yet?”
“The results only came in this morning, but a warrant has been issued for his arrest.
It shouldn’t be too hard to track him down because his address is registered as part of his parole conditions. I’m expecting the call any minute.”
“So what’s going to happen to him?” Dominic asked.
“Well, obviously he’ll be put back in prison, and then he’ll be charged with rape. On the basis that there were no witnesses to the act itself, we’ll need to rely on the genetic evidence to convict him. And that brings me onto a bit of a sensitive point. I’m assuming that you plan to carry the baby to term Antimone?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” her mother asked, a hint of hope in her voice. “The doctors said it was too late for a termination.”
“I know,” Kat replied. “This situation doesn’t happen very often because most women are aware that they’ve been raped and have the abortion within the first four weeks. There have been a few rare instances like your own when too much time has passed for the mother to survive a termination. Some of those women have the termination anyway.”
“What, and die?” Dominic asked in horror.
“I’m afraid so. Some just can’t bear to have the rapist’s seed growing inside them, not that I’m suggesting for one minute that Antimone should do that.”
“I’m keeping it,” Antimone announced firmly. “It’s not the baby’s fault, and I’m not ready to die yet either.”
Kat appeared relieved. “Good. The only thing is the Crown Prosecution Service will probably want to wait until after the baby is born before they open the case.”
“Why can’t they prosecute him now?” Helen asked.
“They’ll want to take blood directly from the baby to prove paternity, and even then, it often takes six months to a year for the prosecution to build the case. He’ll be kept in prison during that time, though.”
“I just want to see him suffer,” Dominic said vehemently.
“I can assure you, he won’t have a pleasant experience in jail. Rapists generally get a very rough ride from both the guards and the other inmates.”
“I hope they kick the shit out of him.”
“Hmm,” Kat said, getting to her feet. “Anyway, I’ll let you know as soon as we have him in custody. Thanks for the tea.”
Antimone remained in the lounge while her parents saw the policewoman out. They returned to find her reading the screen of her phone.
“What are you looking at?” her father asked.
“Just the details of the original court case.”
Dominic peered over his daughter’s shoulder at a photograph of an attractive woman, smiling brightly into the camera. It had obviously been cropped from a group picture because a man’s arm was clearly visible in the bottom right corner. The image appeared dated, but that was probably due to the fact that it was recorded in two dimensions compared to the more common three.
“She was a beautiful woman,” he said.
Antimone didn’t respond but scrolled down to read the story. “It says she worked at Ilithyia Biotechnology. In those days it was only a small company on the Cambridge Science Park. He was a physicist working at a research laboratory. Apparently, he phoned the police to say she hadn’t come home from work, and he was worried about her. When they checked his car they found a pool of blood in the boot.”
“Does it say anything about why he did it?” Dominic asked.
“No. He used to go out with Mrs Baxter and the police had a theory he still loved her and wanted to get rid of his wife so they could get back together. But it says here that when he was sentenced he tried to get out of the dock and attack her.”
“And they never found the body?”
“A witness said they’d seen his car parked by the river. They used divers and dredged it, but they didn’t find anything. He claimed he was at home at the time, sick in bed.”
Antimone scrolled down further until she came across a photograph of the killer. In the image, he had short brown hair with a parting to the left and was smartly dressed in a white shirt with blue tie. His smile seemed unnatural and forced. She attempted to reconcile the picture with her memory of the bearded man she had seen through the window but could not detect any similarities. She shuddered slightly as she focused on his hazel eyes.
“I hope the bastard rots in hell,” her father said.
Chapter 15
Saturday 5th June 2032
Antimone heard the sound of a car door shutting and pulled the curtain back to look out of the window. A slightly built man wearing a dark suit walked around the back of a silver coloured car and opened the door on the opposite side. Rosalind Baxter’s personal assistant, but what the hell was his name? His boss’ immaculately coiffured head appeared above the roof of the vehicle. She glanced once in Antimone’s direction then murmured a few words to the man. He nodded and got back in using the same door.
The elegantly dressed woman approached the ramp leading up to the front door. A second or two later the doorbell rang. Both parents were out. Her mother was doing the weekly shopping, and her father was at work making up for some of the time he had lost during the past fortnight. Antimone debated for a moment whether to pretend she wasn’t in but then propelled herself along the hall.
A concerned expression occupied Rosalind’s face as Antimone pulled the door open. “Hello, Antimone. I was so sorry to hear the bad news. Are your parents at home?”
A waft of expensive perfume drifted into the house. Antimone shook her head.
“Um … do you mind if I come in for a second?”
Antimone thought it would be rude to refuse. “Okay.”
Rosalind closed the door behind her and followed Antimone into the lounge. “May I sit down?”
Antimone nodded.
Rosalind perched on the edge of her chair and stared at Antimone for a moment before speaking. “I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am that you were um … assaulted … at Jason’s party. I feel really bad about it – not that I could have anticipated …” Her voice tailed off.
Antimone had a sudden urge to challenge this woman. “I saw you arguing with him before I was drugged.”
Rosalind seemed surprised at the boldness of the statement. “I’m afraid the man’s totally delusional. I assume you know his wife used to work for me. He thought I kept back evidence that would have proved he was innocent of her murder, but it’s all total nonsense. I told him if he didn’t leave I’d call the police, and I thought that was the end of it. I had no idea he would come back and … well, attack you.”
“I read that you used to go out with him.”
Rosalind frowned. “That was a very long time ago, and I very quickly corrected my mistake. It’s not something I really like to discuss.”
Antimone realised that she had overstepped the mark and changed tack. “So, do you know if they’ve caught him yet? The police said they would tell us when he was arrested, but we still haven’t heard anything.”
“No, they haven’t told me anything either. It seems that he hasn’t been back to the address he registered with his parole officer. I just hope they find him soon.” Rosalind sat back a fraction. “There was another thing I wanted to talk to you about, but maybe I should wait until your parents are here.” She hesitated, glanced at her watch then seemed to come to a decision. “If I tell you my proposal now, perhaps you can discuss it with your mother and father and let me know your thoughts.”
“Um, okay.”
“As I’m sure you know, my company has a large facility very close to here. We’re working hard to find a cure for this awful disease. I know it can never make up for what’s happened to you, but I’d like to offer the use of our facilities when the time comes. There’s a hospital on site equipped with all the latest machines. Of course, you’d have a private room and some of the best medical care in the world. If you like, I’d also be happy to include you in one of our experimental research programmes. I certainly can’t promise anything, but we’re making progress all the time.”
Antimone had to admit that the proposal was unexpected. On the
face of it, it was a generous offer, but a cynical part of her wondered whether this was all a ploy to prevent legal action, not that they had ever discussed the idea as a family. The real carrot was the hint of a cure.
“Um … Thanks.”
“So you’ll discuss it with your parents when they return? Here’s a card with my private number on it. Call me anytime.”
Antimone took the rectangular card and placed it on the coffee table.
Rosalind stood up, brushing down her grey skirt and smiled. “I’ve enjoyed our little chat. Don’t worry, I can let myself out.” She crossed the room and strode along the corridor without looking back, her heels clacking on the wooden planks. Antimone followed a short distance behind.
Rosalind opened the front door, turned briefly and raised a hand in farewell before pulling it shut after her. She descended the ramp and hurried across to the car. Her assistant was still only halfway out of the door by the time she slid in beside him.
“Am I not paying you enough to open doors for me?” she snapped.
Julian Stefano mumbled an apology. He had been taking a call and hadn’t noticed her leaving the house until it was too late, but he knew better than to make excuses.
When she had finished instructing the navigation system to take her home, she turned to him with a smug expression on her face. “So are you going to ask me what happened?”
“Okay. How did it go?” he asked dutifully.
“Impertinent little bitch. Her parents weren’t there, but I don’t think she’ll be a problem.”
Chapter 16
Monday 21st June 2032
The pregnancy wasn’t showing yet, but even so Antimone deliberately wore loose, baggy clothing. She waited with her mother and father outside the head teacher’s office. Her ‘I Level’ examinations were due to start the following Tuesday. Part of her had considered leaving school and skipping these tests – she was sixteen years old after all – but her parents had persuaded her to continue with her studies. As it turned out the hours of revision had been a welcome distraction from her predicament.
Decimation: The Girl Who Survived Page 7