The Chrysalid Conspiracy

by A. J. Reynolds

  Amelia was somewhere between real fear and panic. The sound of the crash revitalised her motion sensory responses and she flew, devoid of all thought, to her mother’s aid.

  Lucy had fallen onto her left side into the foetal position. Her left arm was across her chest, hugging herself tightly. Her right thumb was in her mouth and she was making whimpering sounds. Amelia pulled the upturned wheelchair out of the way and knelt down beside her. She could do nothing. In fact, doing anything at all never occurred to her. She let out a loud scream of anguish and a silent scream for help. Her mother’s eyes were open but sightless and Amelia cradled her head, rocking back and forth, while she shuddered out her tears.

  Words began to form in her head. Phone! Ambulance! Move! and she began to take in the situation. Unable to stand, she crawled into the bedroom and found her mother’s phone.

  She called the emergency services and it seemed an age for someone to answer, though in reality it was only seconds.

  “Slowly, calmly,” she said to herself and struggled to take her own advice. She clearly and concisely gave the information she was asked for and kept it steady till the end.

  “And can you tell me what’s wrong with her?” said the disembodied voice.

  “She’s f****** sick!” she shouted down the phone. “Please, help us.”

  Never having used that particular expletive in anger before, she realised she had greatly underrated its emotional value.

  Time took its usual leave of absence and she had no idea how long it was before an ambulance arrived.

  “It’s okay, everything is all right now,” came a familiar voice. It was George.

  “But Mum, she…” Amelia blurted out.

  “She’s in good hands,” he said. “They know what they’re doing.”

  The two paramedics who had followed George in were going about their work quietly with great care.

  “Look,” said George, “there’s something I need to do. Why don’t you go and make us both a nice strong coffee and let them get on with it.” He offered her some oily scrim cloth to dry her tears. She declined and went to the kitchen on very shaky legs. George followed her after a few minutes, putting his mobile phone away.

  “How is she?” she asked.

  “She seems okay. They’ve sedated her and she seems to be sleeping,” George replied.

  “What do you think is wrong?”

  “It looks like overload. Some sort of traumatic shock. I’m guessing, mind you. I don’t really know. What happened?” His gaze was steady as he asked the question.

  “I don’t know,” she said, bending the truth. “She screamed and fell down.” She had the feeling George knew she was lying slightly, but she was way past caring.

  “I’ll go to the hospital with her,” said Amelia. “I must be there when she wakes up.”

  “That wouldn’t be a good idea right now,” he told her, out of the blue.

  “What?” demanded Amelia. “Why?”

  “Well, you’re a bit upset at the moment. Visit her in a couple of days, give her a chance to recover…” his voice tailed off as he took notice of her change of mood.

  “A couple of days? How dare you.” Amelia was incensed. George raised his voice.

  “Amelia, you have to stay here. That’s an order,” he said sharply. Amelia found she had a focus for her fear and anger. What her honorary Grandfather had forgotten was that Amelia was just a very frightened fifteen-year-old child, and needed somebody to blame, someone to take the brunt of her fear.

  Rayn appeared in the doorway. She was breathing hard and sweating. But her presence gave a welcoming boost to Amelia’s fast-flagging determination.

  “That’s an order?” Amelia repeated. “An order? You have the audacity to give me orders, after the years of lies and your underhanded scheming and two-faced pretence. Who the hell do you think you are?”

  George’s face was ashen as he stared at her in amazement. He had no argument, no defence. Instead, he was forced to accept the rapid progress he had only guessed at.

  “We are trying to keep you both safe,” he said, trying to put some authority in his voice while pleading for understanding.

  Amelia couldn’t stop now. She saw a half smile and a nod from Rayn and went for the throat. “Keep us safe?” she was shouting at him, a new experience for both of them. “You have no idea, have you? You don’t even know that our friendly neighbourhood vicar, who just happens to live up the road, is the president of Galileo. He IS Galileo. And you think we’re safe?”

  George was completely bewildered. “Amelia, he can’t be. It’s not possible. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m afraid it’s true,” chipped in Rayn from behind him. He whirled round to face her as she continued. “Oh, and I fully endorse everything she said about you, George, or Billy, or Stephen, or whatever your name is. We also know you have a hole in your organisation.”

  “A mole, Rayn. It’s a mole,” said Amelia.

  “Is there any difference?” teased Rayn.

  “I suppose it’s the way you look at it. It’s a case of mind over matter,” replied Amelia, feeding Rayn her next line.

  “Yeah, never mind, it doesn’t matter.” They both laughed. This unrehearsed use of irrelevance was specifically to confuse the ‘enemy’. George, being already dazed with the events, was reduced to a befuddled old man. A badly distorted reflection of his normal self.

  “Look,” Amelia said to him more calmly, “I’ll admit we don’t know where this is all leading, but we are determined to follow it and be in at the finish. Wherever or whatever that is.” She’d regained her composure and was speaking normally, retaining her dominance. She stopped for a breath. Her heart was pumping and her mother’s condition was making her feel sick. She was also thinking she may have gone a bit too far. Taking comfort from Claire’s words, “Make something happen, or I will”, she continued.

  “I’ll stay here if you think it’s best. But I make you responsible for my mother. You got that?” She was still pretty mad.

  George didn’t speak. He couldn’t think of anything to say that would make a difference. He just nodded and left, accepting defeat.

  Rayn was in like a shot. She wanted all the information at once and didn’t know which question to ask first.

  “How’s your mum? What happened?” she pestered.

  “Okay, I think. I’m just going to find out.” They went into the bedroom where Lucy was strapped into a stretcher, in a deep sleep and wearing an oxygen mask.

  How is she?” she asked the paramedics.

  “She’ll be fine,” said the larger of the two paramedics.

  “That’s not what she asked,” Rayn snapped at him.

  “Now don’t you worry your pretty little head, we’ll take care of her.” He patronised.

  “Hey.” said Rayn, parrying the innocuous remark and lashed out with a hypothetical ‘left hook’, “She asked you a question. Are you going to answer her or carry your teeth home in a plastic bag?”

  The man laughed. “Why? You got a black belt in karate?” he asked.

  “No.” Answered Rayn. “I got a pink hat in Tesco, d’you want to try it on?”

  The other paramedic made an effort to defuse the situation. “Can it Harry.” Then he turned to the two girls. “She’s had some sort of shock,” he explained. “We think the fall may have caused it, but the temperature in that greenhouse may be a factor. We’re going to get her in the ambulance. Who’s coming with her?”

  “Me,” came Bridie’s voice from the doorway. She was breathing heavily and had to sit for a minute. “I’ll go. Is that all right, Amelia?”

  “Oh please, Bridie! Thanks. George asked me to stay here,” she said.

  “Can we go then?” said the paramedic. “We’ll do the paperwork on the way. Can you handle that?” he said to Bridie.

  “Yes, let’s get going,” she answered.

  After they’d gone, Amelia sat on the edge of her mum’s bed, her h
and absently stroking the pillow. Rayn looked on and knew she had a difficult situation on her hands. It was not really her thing, but she owed her friend the very best she could do.

  “Sorry to mention this, but have you got anything to eat? I’m starving,” she said, using Amelia’s trick of changing the subject.

  “What? Oh yes. Help yourself to anything you want,” she said, not really paying attention.

  “You had better come and show me. You know I get lost in your kitchen,” Rayn complained. Pretty weak, but it’s working, she thought as Amelia followed her out.

  “Anything for you?” she asked. She wasn’t hungry herself, but it was all she could think of to help.

  “No, not for me thanks.” Amelia sounded distant, which wasn’t surprising.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here any quicker,” Rayn apologised. “I was holding Horace steady for the vet when I got your call. If I’d let go Horace would have killed him.”

  Amelia’s eyes began to focus. “What call? I didn’t call you,” she said, becoming confused. “All I could manage was to scream.”

  “Oh yes you did. Both halves of my brain and right between the ears. It really hurt.”

  “Rayn? What are you talking about?” She was giving her friend all her attention now, intrigued.

  “It nearly knocked me over. Please don’t do that again,” said Rayn, leading her further into the mystery. Although the truth was even more scary because she wasn’t making it up, she consoled herself that she was achieving her aim and pulling her friend back from the abyss.

  “Rayn, would you be a little more specific? You’re scaring me,” Amelia pleaded.

  “A little more specific? Well, I like that. You nearly tore my brain apart, how specific is that? Horace didn’t like it much either.” She was enjoying teasing her friend and it kept everything light.

  “Horace? What’s he got to do with it?” Amelia was getting frantic. Rayn carried on as if Amelia hadn’t spoken.

  “Mind you, I’ve been half expecting something like this. I’ve been picking up random ideas and suggestions that you’ve come out with later for quite a while now. I put it down to coincidence or like-minds at first,” she lied, “but they’ve become more frequent lately. I hope for your sake you’re not learning to read my mind.”

  “You know, Rayn. You can really wind me up. I’d get more sense out of a schizophrenic coconut. If you don’t explain in plain simple language, you’re going to need that ambulance back again.”

  Rayn thought for a moment. She’s really angry now, but at least she’s not thinking about her mother. “Look, my friend,” she said. “You must have screamed on two levels and it was only me and Horace who heard the other level. And we caught the full force.”

  “What? You mean that sixth sense thing? Why didn’t you answer then?”

  “I can’t,” said Rayn. “I tried, but I don’t have it, thank goodness. I couldn’t handle it.” Rayn decided this wasn’t the time for a discussion on the ethics of telepathy.

  “But you knew what was wrong, didn’t you?”

  “Oh yes,” said Rayn. “I got a sort of picture, like a scratchy old negative. Horace was terrified. The vet got out from underneath him just in time.”

  “But Rayn, somebody told me to phone for an ambulance,” said Amelia, calmly and quietly.

  “Sorry, old girl. It wasn’t me. I just can’t do it. It seems I can pick things up from you but I can’t send.”

  “But if you didn’t, who did?” said Amelia, becoming quite confused and not a little anxious.

  “I don’t know. But I guess it means there’s somebody else out there who can.” Rayn kept her voice almost casual to cover the effect of her internal organs being liquefied. She knew Amelia was nobody’s fool, but an angry, distraught and frightened Amelia was an unknown quantity. “We shouldn’t be surprised, what with all this other crazy stuff going on.” She added to ward off the terrifying knowledge that she was the only one out there.

  Amelia became distraught again. “Where’s Bridie? She’s not back yet. They must have reached the hospital ages ago. Why hasn’t she phoned? Oh Rayn, I can’t lose her, I can’t.” The tears welled up again as Rayn hugged her.

  “Don’t be silly. You’re not going to lose her. She’ll be fine,” Rayn said, but she felt worse than useless. Her comforting platitudes sounded so inadequate. “Perhaps it was Horace?” she ventured.

  “What?” answered Amelia, nonplussed.

  “Horace,” repeated Rayn. “Maybe he picked up your message and relayed it to me. I was thinking about how you needed a phone, and he may have passed it on to you. You know how clever he is.”

  “Rayn,” Amelia was trying to make sense where there wasn’t any. “Are you suggesting I can talk to a horse?”

  “Not just any horse. We’re talking about Horace.” But Rayn knew all was lost. She’d given it her best shot and had nothing left. She slumped down into a chair and they stared at each other.

  After a couple of hours of nail-biting tension, and several more tearful outbursts, Bridie finally arrived by taxi.

  “Lucy’s fine,” she announced. “She’s asleep and breathing normally. She told one of the nurses to, ‘F’..OFF when she was asked to move her legs, so they say there’s definitely no brain damage. They think the fall frightened her into a fit. Apparently it’s not unusual for this to happen to wheelchair users.”

  Amelia breathed a sigh of relief and smiled to herself. It occurred to her that perhaps it was just as well they hadn’t heard that hideous, almost non-human, scream. They would most likely have her in a straitjacket by now.

  “What’s the prognosis then?” she asked.

  “Very good. A couple of days rest and she’ll be right as rain,” said Bridie.

  “Can I go and see her tomorrow?” Amelia’s excitement was short-lived.

  “Not till the evening. They want to give her a day’s rest,” explained Bridie. “Now”, she continued. “We’ll stop over, if that’s okay? And first thing tomorrow I’ll get round and cancel the barbecue.”

  “No!” Amelia interjected. “These sessions are not only important, they’re necessary. It may be a bit subdued, but at least we’ll be doing something.”

  “Yes you’re right. Good thinking,” continued Bridie. “but the first thing we do is raid your mum’s drinks cabinet. It’s for medicinal purposes, of course. We all need a good night’s sleep, and this is the second best way I know how. Is that okay with you, Amelia?”

  Amelia nodded. “Rayn, you’d better get some glasses. I’ve lost the will to resist.” And as the evening progressed Amelia’s tortured mind gently floated into oblivion.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Amelia was woken by Bridie the next morning bearing hot sweet tea. Fortunately, she’d had time to unwrap herself from her physical, emotional and mental cocoon before her memory was active, otherwise she would willingly have returned to her foetal state, never to return.

  The previous night’s drink hadn’t affected her much. She’d been emotionally exhausted and had slept long before the alcohol could do any damage. Rayn too, seemed to be much brighter than she deserved to be after the amount she’d knocked back.

  “Breakfast in five minutes,” Bridie announced. “Informal dress,” indicating the dressing gown she had borrowed from Lucy’s room. “I rang the hospital. Your mum’s fine. She’s sleeping, so no calls please. You can visit her this evening. Rayn, put some clothes on before you come down, please.”

  Bridie cooked bacon and eggs for two, but Amelia couldn’t face it. The trauma of the day before, which she judged to be by far the worst day of her life, added to the disruption to her familiar and safe morning routine and had made her lose her bearings. She felt sick.

  Rayn cleared both plates on the grounds that the food had been together in the fridge and it would be a shame to split them up now. Amelia wondered why Rayn wasn’t fat. The amount she could eat defied the laws of physics.

  Bridie had volu
nteered her daughter into helping her give Lucy’s bedroom a good clean up while they had the chance. Bridie had given her comfort, what she needed was contrast, so she dumped the tea, made herself coffee and tried not to think.

  The coffee cleared a patch in her mind and the memory of a dream began scratching at the edges. She relaxed and allowed it to close in on her. It gradually seeped out from her subconscious; however, unlike her previous dreams, she became aware that this was one short dream repeated several times.

  ***

  It was night. She was lying on her back, unable to move. The only light was from a large fire, just out of her line of vision, but she couldn’t turn her head. She could hear the crackle of the flames and see the stars. It was so clear, so vivid and terrifying. Unable to speak because of the hand over her mouth, she felt her nose being pinched closed. Someone was trying to kill her. As the darkness began to absorb her senses she saw, in the reflected light of the fire, a face staring down at her. Not a real face, just the golden mask of the woman she had killed in her ‘birdcage’ dream. Then it was gone, only to be replayed again and again four or five times over till it faded to nothing.

  Amelia didn’t know whether to cry, scream or smash something in frustration. Bridie’s voice interrupted her thoughts as he called from the utility room. “Are you all right in there?”

  Amelia discovered she was standing, watching coffee running down the tiles over the cooker. Shards of broken coffee cup were strewn about the kitchen.

  “What?” she replied. “Oh, sorry, I’m okay.” and went upstairs to get dressed.

  She struggled into her jeans, which had been getting a bit tight of late, and became distracted when she discovered she couldn’t do them up. They only came up to her hips. At first she thought she had put on Rayn’s by mistake but noticed the absence of the vague odour of tobacco which followed Rayn around like the hint of a shadow. Then she realised they were much too short and way above the ankles.

  “What the devil?” she remarked to herself. “I knew they were getting past their useable date, but this is ridiculous.”