The House Next Door Trilogy (Books 1-3)

by Jule Owen

  Mathew does a quick search for Panacea on MUUT. He gets hundreds of results, the most recent a list of articles about a new anti-stress drug called the Pacifier. But his mother’s name is missing.

  What is his mother working on? Why did I never ask her?

  He stares at his hands.

  An ad appears, floating above his thumbs. It reads,

  Unbelievable value! Outsourced technical support. Absolutely free for a period. Say ‘Yes’ to connect for more information.

  Mathew smiles and says, “Yes.”

  “You are Missile Crisis. I am Cold War.”

  “Hello Cold War.”

  “Didn’t we discuss wild, unmasked searches on the Blackweb and decide they’re a bad idea?”

  “Extenuating circumstances.”

  “They’d better be good.”

  “I’m locked in a secret virus hospital owned by biotech company Panacea being tested for an unknown, probably highly contagious virus. My mother is unconscious in a quarantined room somewhere else in the hospital and they, whoever they are, won’t let me see her.”

  “Holy shit! That is extenuating. And seriously screwed up.”

  “They have blocked our access to the Nexus, but for some reason they haven’t blocked the Blackweb.”

  “Ha! All those corporate guys are idiots.”

  “Lucky for me.”

  “Lucky for you.”

  “I need to know if there are any recent rumours about Panacea and viruses.”

  “Those guys are evil. I wouldn’t expect it to be anything good.”

  “There's something else. I need you to do a search on someone. Her name is Hoshi Mori. She works at Panacea.”

  “I know the name from somewhere. Is she the one you think is working on this virus?”

  “I don't know. That’s what I’d like to find out,” Mathew says. For some reason he doesn’t want to tell Cold War she is his mother. “Can you help?”

  “You bet.”

  “Thanks, Cold War.”

  “Don't mention it, Missile Crisis. Keep strong.”

  “I don’t think I have a choice.”

  6 Mathew Erlang’s World Falls Apart

  Mathew watches a woman in a white nurse’s uniform approach. It is the first time he has seen the face of a member of the hospital staff. She stops by the outer door to Clara's room and takes a parcel from the trolley, pauses to check the label on the top, then goes in. The door remains open as she walks into the decontamination chamber so he can see in. There is a small metal table, large semi-opaque shrilk bottles full of blue and green liquid, a small stainless steel sink and a number of plastic bins. It is like the antechamber he passed through when he came into his room.

  The nurse goes to Clara and hands her the parcel. Clara gets off the bed. She mouths something through the window at Mathew, but he doesn’t get it. Then she disappears behind the white screen on wheels. Her bare feet move at the bottom.

  She’s getting dressed.

  The same nurse comes from Clara’s room, walks the length of Mathew's window and passes through his decontamination room. The door opens. She comes to Mathew and hands him a parcel - his clothes. They are washed, ironed and shrilk-wrapped, and his name is printed on a label on the top.

  “Get dressed now, please,” she says.

  Once they are all assembled in the corridor, the nurse leads the way back to the lift, past other rooms, identical to the ones they have been in, all empty.

  “It’s like a ghost hospital,” Clara says.

  The nurse is silent as she opens the door for them at the end of the corridor. On their immediate left, there is a large room with chairs, a couple of sofas, a Canvas showing the news and a basic kitchen. A HomeAngel is docked against one wall, charging, its blue heart light slowly pulsing. It wakes as they enter and beeps, signalling its initiation routine has started.

  “Please make yourselves comfortable,” the nurse says. “There is a food replicator and a variety of drinks, if you are hungry. The HomeAngel is called Nash. He will help you get anything you need. The bathroom is over there. We have ordered you all cars. They will be here in forty minutes. I’m sorry for the delay, but since the floods, it is hard to get authorised private cars at short notice.”

  “Where are they taking us?” Mathew asks.

  “Home, of course.”

  “That's it?” Gen says.

  “Yes. You can go home.”

  “I meant, you are not going to explain what is going on?”

  “Didn’t the medics and the doctors explain to you? I’m not sure I…”

  “Yes. They said Hoshi is ill, they think she has a virus and they were testing us in case we have it too.”

  “Oh, I see; no one gave you the results. You are all totally clear. You are fine.”

  “Haven't we got the right to know what you tested us for? What did you inject us with?”

  “You shouldn't notice any side effects but we will send you the details of the person you should contact if you do.”

  “Will the details of what you tested for be passed to our doctors? Will we get a copy of the medical records for our visit?”

  “I don't have access to that information, I'm afraid.”

  “Then send someone to talk to us who does know,” Gen says.

  “That won't be possible.”

  Gen breathes deeply, trying to manage her exasperation. She asks, “How is this legal?”

  “I assure you it is. We operate completely within the law here at Panacea.”

  “I bet you do,” Gen says.

  The nurse is irritated. “If there’s nothing more, I will leave you. Someone will come to collect you when the cars arrive.”

  “I don't want a car,” Mathew says abruptly. He is slumped on one of the low armchairs nearest the door. He gazes up at the nurse and says, “I want to stay here.”

  “I’m afraid we don’t have the facilities.”

  “You have an entire empty hospital! It’s not like people are fighting for beds,” Gen says.

  “It’s against hospital policy for non-patients to stay overnight and you are being discharged,” the nurse says brusquely.

  “I want to see my mother.”

  “You should ring the hospital tomorrow morning and ask if it is possible for you to visit during the day.”

  “I want to stay,” Mathew speaks quietly enough, but it is clear he has no intention of going anywhere.

  The nurse says, “You will have to stay here if you do.” She glances around at the banks of chairs. “There’s nowhere to sleep, other than the sofas. I suppose I could bring you a blanket.”

  “I won’t be sleeping,” Mathew says.

  “I will stay as well,” Gen says.

  Mathew stares at her, surprised but grateful.

  “I don’t…” the nurse begins.

  “He needs someone with him,” Gen says, cutting her off.

  The nurse considers this. “Are you a relative?”

  “I live next door to him. I’ve known him all his life.”

  The nurse is still frowning sceptically.

  “I’m his godmother.”

  The nurse raises a sceptical eyebrow. “Well I suppose, if you are his godmother…”

  “I am.”

  The nurse turns to Mathew, “But you will be confined to this room unless someone comes to escort you to your mother. Understood?”

  Mathew nods.

  “Then I will cancel your cars, but Ms Barculo is going home.”

  Clara opens her mouth to argue but Gen shakes her head and Clara stops, staring at Mathew.

  He says, “You should go home. Your parents will be worried.”

  “Will you call me as soon as you know anything?” she says.

  “Of course.”

  Clara’s car arrives within the promised forty minutes and Mathew and Gen are left alone.

  Nash is a revelation to Gen, who has seen HomeAngels on TV but never had one herself. Mathew calls the robot, orders his
own food and invites Gen to select her choice from the options Nash projects before them.

  “I suppose fresh food is too much to ask?” Gen says.

  “I’m sorry. We don’t stock perishable food. We don’t have enough visitors,” Nash says.

  “What is your healthiest option?”

  “I’ll try to match what we have on our menu to your current nutritional needs. Permission to read your bioID?”

  “I’ll have the pizza,” Gen says quickly. She’s had enough of strangers poking at her personal data.

  “Coming up,” Nash says. It walks towards the kitchenette, activates the replicator and returns minutes later with the food. “Where would you like it?”

  “Over here, please,” Gen says. She points to a low table by the two armchairs they are seated on.

  Nash puts their food down. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Water,” Gen says.

  “Coke,” Mathew says.

  “Just a minute, Sir,” Nash says. It turns back to the kitchen.

  “So this is what I’m missing,” Gen says, trying to raise a smile from Mathew, but she stops herself when she sees his face. He is close to tears. “You should eat.”

  Mathew nods but he doesn’t touch the food.

  Gen eats silently. The news churns on a carousel on the big Canvas on the wall, the same stories Mathew has already watched - Russian troops at the border and the retreat of the London floodwater.

  “Gets a bit old, doesn’t it?” Gen says. She starts to take her plate back to the kitchen, but when Nash sweeps towards her, she hands it to the robot instead, bemused. “Do you want me to change the channel?” she asks.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Mathew says.

  Gen turns down the volume with a voice command.

  There are a number of basic Papers lying around the room, preloaded with books and magazines. Gen takes one as she returns to her seat.

  “Are you really my godmother?” Mathew asks.

  “No,” Gen says. “I said that because the nurse wasn’t going to let us stay. You weren’t christened. But I have known you all your life and I was good friends with your mum and dad.”

  “When Dad was alive. Mum said.”

  “Yes.”

  “Thanks for staying with me, Gen,” he says after a while.

  “Of course. There’s no need to thank me.”

  A few hours later, Gen is asleep on one of the couches and Mathew has nodded off over his Paper, when the door to the waiting room opens. A lab-coated woman and a grey-suited man enter the room and perch on seats next to Mathew. Gen wakes and rises groggily.

  “I’m Dr. Assaf,” the woman says. “This is my colleague, Mr. Truville.”

  Truville leans across to shake Mathew’s hand. Mathew takes his hand but doesn’t return the man’s smile.

  “Mathew, I know you are worried. I am sorry no one has been able to tell you anything but we have been pulling out all the stops to help your mum.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “Yes. I’m here to take you. You’ll be able to talk to her through the window of her room. She is conscious but I have to warn you, we have her on drugs to help with the pain.”

  “Pain?”

  “I’m afraid so. But the drugs are working, so don’t worry, she’s not in any pain now. She may be confused, though, delirious. She doesn’t always know where she is and who she is speaking to. If she says strange things, remember it is the drugs talking and not her.”

  “Why can’t I go in?”

  “We think she is contagious.”

  “The nurses go in.”

  “They’re nurses.”

  “Do you know what virus it is yet?”

  “We still don’t know for sure.”

  “But you think you know…”

  Something nearly imperceptible passes between Assaf and Truville. Then the woman says emphatically, “We don’t know.”

  “Would you tell me if you knew?”

  “Mathew, your mother is a valued employee of Panacea and a colleague and friend to many of us.”

  Mathew doesn’t remember his mother ever mentioning a Dr. Assaf before.

  “We are all upset about what has happened. We are doing our best to save her,” Truville says.

  “Save her?”

  Dr. Assaf glances at Truville and frowns. “The prognosis is not good. Whatever is making her ill is virulent.”

  “You mean she may die?”

  “We are doing everything we can for her. We haven’t abandoned hope yet. But the situation is serious.”

  “Isn’t there an antidote? I thought medibots could cure ninety per cent of known illnesses.”

  “This is one of those illnesses in the ten per cent medibots can’t cure.”

  Mathew searches Dr. Assaf’s face. She is lying, he thinks. He says, “Then how did she catch whatever it is she has?”

  “We don’t know that either.”

  “It’s something she was working on, isn’t it?”

  Dr. Assaf hesitates; Truville cuts across her, saying, “No, no, of course not! The thing we need to do now, all of us, is concentrate on getting her better. Dr. Assaf will take you to your mother now. We’ve updated security for your bioID to let you come and go as you please to the corridor outside your mother’s room. Gen, you will need this.”

  The suited man hands a blank shrilk card to Gen, who doesn’t yet have a bioID. “Let’s go up, shall we?”

  They use a lift to go up a floor together in silence.

  They walk along a corridor, similar to the one they had spent the last few hours in.

  Gen says, “This place is empty and huge. You must be preparing for an epidemic.”

  “Yes, it’s precisely what we are preparing for,” Truville says. “Our purpose is to be ready to respond to biological warfare.”

  They approach the one occupied room on the floor. Dr. Assaf says, “She’s in here.”

  Hoshi lies on a bed, dressed in a hospital gown, covered to the chest in a light sheet. She is surrounded by medical equipment, monitors, data, and lights. A nurse tends her.

  Assaf hands Mathew and Gen their e-Pinz. She says, “You will need these. We’ve arranged it so you can talk.”

  Mathew re-fits his e-Pin. Dr. Assaf says to the nurse caring for Hoshi, “Rhea, do you hear us?”

  “Loud and clear, Dr. Assaf.”

  The nurse raises the head of the bed until Hoshi is upright and carefully rearranges the equipment to make space near the window. Then she moves Hoshi’s bed closer to the glass. Hoshi’s eyes are open but unfocused. Her head falls to the left, the side nearest to Mathew. Her mouth is slack. The nurse gently lifts her head; her eyes stare right at Mathew. Her face is drawn, aged, her skin ashen. She has huge black rings under her eyes, like she has been punched.

  How did this happen in just a few hours?

  Mathew’s is overwhelmed, angry, powerless. His eyes fill with tears. He slumps against the window and puts his face and hands against the glass, getting as close as possible.

  “Mum!” he says. “Mum! It’s me. I’m here,” his chest heaves.

  Her eyes continue to stare off vaguely into space.

  “This is no good. She doesn’t know I’m here,” he says. “I want to go in.”

  “That’s not possible,” Truville says.

  “The nurse is in there. Can’t you get me one of those suits?”

  Dr. Assaf half turns to the man beside her, while still looking at Mathew. Before Truville responds, she says, “Yes, okay. Come with me, Mathew. Let’s get you suited up.”

  The suit is light and quite mobile, much more so than he imagined. The mask has an air filter built in. It fits snugly to his face. A band secures it tightly around his head. Dr. Assaf activates the door. He passes into the decontamination chamber and waits. The door behind him closes. He takes in the equipment. There is a container the same colour and shape as the ones pushed along the corridor downstairs. It has a label on the top that reads
‘biohazard’. As he stares at it, the door opens. The nurse indicates that he should move forward and he follows her to Hoshi’s bedside. The bed has been pushed back. The nurse brings a chair to the headboard. Mathew sinks down, reaches across the sheets and takes his mother’s hand.

  “Mum. It’s Mathew.” This time his voice isn’t being filtered through an e-Pin and a speaker system.

  His mother turns her head slightly, focuses her eyes. It takes a lot of effort.

  “Can you hear me?” he says.

  “Yes,” she says, her voice laboured. “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

  “Yes. There is.”

  “What?”

  “This.”

  “Getting sick? That’s not your fault.”

  “It is,” she says. “I should have been more careful. I should have never agreed.”

  “Agreed to what?”

  “You must go to your grandmother, Mathew.”

  “I don’t need to go to Grandma, I’m with you.”

  “You have to go. It will be all right, if you go. Promise me.”

  “Mum, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Hmmmm,” she says as she gets a new dose of morphine.

  “Mum. Stay with me. Talk to me. Don’t go to sleep.”

  But she is snoring slightly already.

  He holds her hand for a long time, losing track of time. The whole world has contracted to this one room. He wishes time would stop, because horrific as this is, for this moment he still has her, and he knows he is losing her and he will never get over it. He gazes at her face, her eyelashes, her hair, her bare arms, her hands, imprinting it all on his memory. He does not want to forget.

  Between his tears he says, “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me alone.” But she doesn’t respond.

  Aeons or a moment later, someone enters the room. It is Dr. Assaf. She puts a hand on his shoulder. “Mathew. It’s six am.”

  He gazes at her, confused.

  She says, “Why don’t you let Gen take you home with her for a bit? Get some sleep, something to eat and come back later.”

  “I can come back?”