Long Division (27 page)

I moved round the room slowly, casting a glance down the hall to make sure he was still standing. He was at his bookshelf, stacking books back where they belonged. I edged towards him. I hadn’t expected that to be his first move.

‘James? All right, there?’

He gazed at one final book and his shoulders lost their tenseness. ‘Fine,’ he said curtly, snapping the book shut and stuffing it back to its place. I could not exactly question his motives at this stage.

He turned to me, looking charming, for once. ‘Should have never left this place. Should have had you move in with me long ago.’

I blinked. ‘You want me to move in with you?’

James expression turned confused. ‘Isn’t that what we’ve done? Or have I missed something along the way?’

I shook my head. ‘No, no, that’s fine.’ I wasn’t sure if I was making a big deal of nothing or if I did rightfully have reason to be nervous about it. It felt like a significant step to take. I’d told myself he was staying with me only temporarily, because it wasn’t safe for him to be alone. We hadn’t exactly discussed what our future was together. I had had some idea that I would be taking care of him, and that would probably entail me spending the nights now and then. But
moving in? Officially?

That was a change in our relationship.

‘There’s more space here,’ James continued, oblivious to my brain tripping over itself. ‘Won’t have to kip on that tiny cot of yours…’ he trailed off, staring at me. ‘I thought this was all right with you?’

I let out an unstable breath. ‘I would just like some hint as to where all of this is heading.’ I had thought I understood James’s stance on the entire relationship thing, but now he was confusing me again. My stomach churned.

James folded his long arms across his chest. ‘What do you mean?’

I pressed my lips together, felt a beading moisture at the small of my back. Things were so delicate. Trying to work out what my relationship was with someone, trying to be careful about it. Walking on glass. Not wanting to push, or confuse, though my own head was spinning with instability.

‘I mean, I need to know what you want from me. Where you’re wanting our…relationship to go.’ No use speaking in anything but plain terms with him. ‘What do you want me to do?’

He seemed to struggle with the question. An unhappy, blank expression crossed over his features for the briefest of seconds. When he looked at me again, he was guarded. ‘Is this not enough?’

Was it? What was I wanting? Was I wanting to get back to that afternoon? That broken moment we’d shared? I’d never felt that way in such a moment about anyone, and I craved it. I would have done anything to have that moment again. Have that connection with him, where his walls had come down and he’d seemed so real.

‘You…want us to continue being friends?’

He nodded his head once. ‘Of course…if that is what you still want.’

‘Nothing…more?’ I could have kicked myself for pushing, practically falling on my knees in desperation.

James stood a little straighter, and I could tell it was a struggle. ‘What more do you want?’

‘You,’ Nothing more than a whisper. ‘All of you. And I don’t give a toss what that means. If you want to keep it completely free of sex or romance or whatever, I’m fine with that.’ I’d live. ‘I just want to be with you.’

His eyebrows went down during my speech and when I’d finished he just stood there, like an oversized scarecrow, staring at me. He seemed to snap to some sort of life, however, for he took several long strides till he towered over me. I could not fully comprehend what he was about till he cupped my face in his large hands and pulled my mouth to his.

A shudder went ripping down my spine, spiking deep within me, flooding me with an unbearable heat. I had to bite back my tongue to keep from taking control of the kiss and making it more passionate than it was. For James’s kiss was chaste. His lips were strong and sloppy in their movements. He ended it with a swift pull.

‘I cannot be what you want me to be, Mark. You need…more than what I am. I believe now we are…both very aware of that.’

‘James—’ I felt myself sinking back down to the floor, my face still clamped in his hands, keeping me aloft.

He shook his head. ‘It would not be fair to either of us. You know this. Attempting to be in a relationship would end in disaster. Especially now.’

‘But I can still be there for you!’ I protested. ‘Just you and me, together. Not like the other night. Just us. Nothing more. That’s what you want, isn’t it?’

He looked pained. And it hit me all too fully. James wanted that more than anything. Perhaps for years, he’d wanted that. Wanted to be close to someone, wanted attachment to someone. Me.

‘Mark,’ his voice was weak, miserable. It held an edge of desperation that cut a raw ribbon through me.

‘Just trust me, yeah? Let me make my own decision on this. I know you want me to stay. You want me close. You just need to trust me and know that I’m capable of understanding what I’m getting into. Sex? Yeah, it’s great, but going on without it is not the end of the world, James.’

He frowned.

‘Promise.’

I gripped his arms.

Very slowly, James nodded. He released my face from his grasp. ‘You are agreeing to something you don’t want.’

I shook my head and gave him a smirk. ‘I’m agreeing to something I want, just…minus a few benefits on the side.’

His lips twitched; those gorgeous lips.

I’d have to get over that.

James didn’t have long for this world. If I could in any way make it better for him, then I would. It would be best for both of us.

18:Last File

It wasn’t until I’d fully moved into James’s flat and adjusted to the life of a caretaker that things began to feel normal for me. I didn’t want to tell myself it was something I was meant for, or good at. But I was.

His headaches were to the point of nauseating for him. Some days he did not move from bed. I had underestimated just how quickly his condition was deteriorating till I awoke once in the night; his body twisting in fits next to me. The tumour was continuing to grow, pressing in on his brain and altering him almost before my eyes.

I could do nothing but ensure he did not fall from his bed. Dealing with bitten tongues, dazed expressions and unsteady movements was becoming a daily occurrence for me. And watching him turn weak and confused was nothing short of a tragedy. I was losing one of the most brilliant minds of this age. The world was losing the only mind that could save them.

He’d seemed to come to the conclusion I had, somewhere in those past days, that there was nothing he could do about InVizion. Either for the time being, or for ever; I hadn’t been informed of. I let him do what he wanted. I didn’t push the issue. Just like always.

I saw Ashley when I needed to. But I wasn’t even sure where that was headed anymore. She had turned into more of a confidant, if nothing else. There were days I thought losing my mind was a very near possibility, what with James’s wild swinging moods and illness, InVizion influencing elections and public behaviour and the constant pressure of me failing at everything I did. I needed a solid, clear head.

It had been a particularly trying day. James had been in a terrible mood, thanks to the headache or the transmissions happening that day, or simply a mix of everything together. He hadn’t even made it to the bedroom before he’d finally collapsed, worn out, retching.

I worked his shirt off of him, well used to the smell of vomit now. I wasn’t even sure how conscious he was as he stared at me with baleful eyes, lifting his arms over his head so I could peel the sticky, thick clothing away. His eyes closed as soon as I had it free, a wincing
sorry
expression flicking over his features.

I hated how helpless I felt, but there was nothing I could do for him.

He then sank back to the fabric of the white sofa, breathing slow enough to possibly be asleep. He was so thin. For the short time that had passed, how had the sickness drained him so completely? I watched his chest rise and fall. Those two parallel, pink lines of scars making his skin look slick.

I tentatively reached a finger out to press down on one of them. He didn’t move so I let myself trace it from nipple to belly. What could possibly have caused those? I saw them as too neat, too straight. He’d said he’d had no medical history when we’d gone to the doctor, so what were those?

I groaned and pushed myself away from him. I’d probably never know and beyond wondering over his marred skin, I needed a way to occupy my time, else I’d go mad. Unfortunately, in his flat, there was not much. I’d have to settle for a book. There was nothing worth watching, nothing worth seeing online. It all seemed like propaganda these days.

James’s library was not what I’d had hopes for. Maths: equations, theories, essays, it made my head spin. I scrunched my nose and scanned my prospects. Didn’t he have anything here for
pleasure?

And then I remembered.

When we’d first come back. He’d gone straight to this bookshelf and hunted about like a mad man. What had he been after? I wracked my brain, trying to remember the name.

“Statistics and Probability”.

I scanned the rows and then bingo! I pulled it off the shelf and flipped it open. It was almost not a surprise to see a section had been hollowed between the pages. And there lay the small thumb drive.

I cast a quick glance over to James. He was still lying on his side, facing me. His eyes were closed. I could tell by the movement of his chest that he was sound asleep. That or faking very convincingly. With as much pain as he was in these days, I wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull that off.

I palmed it and ducked further into the room to find his computer. I could only pray that the damn thing wasn’t encoded. I couldn’t remember from the last time James had shown me the video if he’d had to type something in or not. With shaking fingers I turned the thin machine on.

It was times like these, as I waited for his expensive computer to accept the device that I thought having advanced tech wouldn’t have been so bad.

The computer finally blipped, once again accepting my fingerprint. What the
hell
? Had James allowed
all
of his technology to accept my prints? He was certainly moving our relationship farther along than I thought he’d be willing to go.

My heart thudded much too fast as I swiped through the files, all little icons with numbers and letters. I recognised the titles on a few of them. I tapped on one just to make sure.

Yeah. Chimps.

I swiped it away before I had to watch it again.

There was one last video.

The last test.

I couldn’t say why it was that one I was drawn to, but I knew it was the one I had to see. It was the last one.

The small square of feed popped up obediently.

It was an all-too familiar scene.

‘Mr Nightgood, if you would be so kind as to give us a demonstration, so we can prove to the Chairman exactly what this technology can do.’

I frowned and shifted in my seat. Another test video. With James. No chimps this time. Just my friend alone. And though the image was somewhat grainy in quality, I could see the reluctance on James’s face.

‘I don’t see why this is necessary,’ he said cautiously after a moment’s hesitation. ‘It’s already been proven that we can influence the behaviour of the subjects with the device.’

The disembodied voice from behind camera spoke up again
. ‘But please, just for our chairman’s sake. Show us again.’

James glanced off-screen, to what I assumed was the chairman, and then very slowly reached down and slid the device over his head, settling it in place with long, stiff fingers.

He cleared his throat. ‘What exactly is it that you want me to prove by this?’ He didn’t, as usual, look to the man he addressed.

‘You have proven, Mr Nightgood, that the device can influence the subject to do what we wish when it comes to its environment. But you have not proven that the device can influence the subject to go against what it considers to be highest of all, its own self.’

I watched James’s Adam’s apple go bobbing up and down as he swallowed. Once.

A blanket of gooseflesh went rising over my body at the man’s words.

The complete loss of freewill. That’s what I was about to witness. A test that would…break man’s most important instinct.

For the first time I noticed the small table set between James and the empty cages. Resting on the table was an array of rather gut-turning surgical instruments. He huffed his breath before beginning to pluck at the buttons on his shirt, exposing his pale chest. His arms fell back to his sides.

‘Starting transmission now.’

A low, irritating humming noise began. It felt as if it burrowed into my skull, wound through each crevice of my brain, pierced down my spine. I wanted to stuff up my ears. It had a similar effect on James in the video. He shifted and groaned and then went stalk straight. It was that way he stayed, standing like a statue, swaying ever so slightly under the drone. I’d seen him that way before. Usually before he had one of his terrible fits.

And then, at last, he moved.

His arm stretched out, stiff, not his usual fluid movements. James had a clutched fist, but with his arm, his fingers uncurled to hover over the table. For a moment he stood there, snarling, fighting, feet shuffling, and then in one rapid movement, he snatched his hand out and I saw a glint of silver. He’d grabbed a scalpel.

I pressed a knuckle to my mouth, feeling my insides curl up inside of me. This had to stop. I couldn’t see this. That sharp blade was all I could focus on in the grainy quality image.

I watched in soundless horror as, with a shaking hand, James lowered the scalpel to his chest. The point rested just over his right collarbone. With dread, I realised what exactly those two parallel pink scars on his chest were from. Oh God, I didn’t want to see. Why did this have to be how it happened?

He shook his head back and forth, as if trying to tell himself no. His nostrils flared in rejection to the action his body was taking. His chest, which I had kissed not so long ago, rose and fall more rapidly. Then he closed his eyes and his whole body relaxed.

The blade came down, ripping through James’s skin with little trouble and sliding easily, leaving a bright, leaking red trail till it reached just above his hip. I felt sick. Horrified. He didn’t even blanch as he did it. I watched with a cold pit of dread in my stomach as James raised the blade yet again and rested it on the opposite collarbone. It went down again. I looked away but I could still hear it. I wanted to pull the earphones away but didn’t dare, for fear that I’d miss some important piece of information one of those disembodied voices might say.

When I looked back, the deed was done.

James gasped and doubled over in pain, dropping the blade. Blood dripped to the floor.

‘Thank you for the demonstration, Mr Nightgood. I think we’ve seen quite enough.’

The voice clicked off, but I could still hear James’s broken breaths, tight and fast.

The video went to black. It was over. It finished with James on his knees in a pool of blood, gasping into the scratchy microphone. End of scene.

I had no way of knowing what happened after the small little clip I’d seen. How he was able to get to his feet. Who, if anyone, cleaned his wounds. Where he went. It was all a mystery to me: the aftermath of that impossible, nightmarish scenario that my friend had gone through, that he still carried around in his head somewhere, I’d never know about.

I sat back and closed my eyes. ‘Oh, God…’ I felt ill.

What had they done to him? I glanced back over at my friend, still sleeping fitfully. What other tortures had he endured? I thought back to the first time I’d seen those scars. I rubbed my eyes. I’d brushed it off so simply. Been so stupid to not question it. I’d forgotten it. Told myself it was nothing more than the scars of a childhood accident. How much darkness did he have in his heart that I’d simply not paid attention to out of ignorance?

I cursed InVizion Technology, and I cursed myself. There had been a kind of peace in not knowing. I’d thought of James as some genius superhero who’d been at the company. Yes, he’d developed the device, but he’d left them to fight for the good. Now I knew the truth. He wasn’t a hero. He was a fugitive. A tortured prisoner who’d finally seen his chance and made a break for it. He didn’t know how to stop it. He was fighting for his life.

I needed fresh air. I pushed myself away from the computer, swiped up the thumb drive and did my best to not bolt for the door. Once outside I leant against the railing of the balcony, keeping my eyes closed as I inhaled the sharp air. The noises of London, traffic and crowds, echoed about me.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.
My breath started coming faster, more panicked. My stomach was churning and then my eyes began to burn. I rested my head against my arm, trying to stop the impending tears.

I’m not sure how long I stayed there. Perhaps half an hour. Long enough for me to try and regain control of myself. I didn’t know what to do. It hurt. I pressed my fingers to my eyes, blinking rapidly.

‘Ugh.’

I struggled to shake the images from my mind. It was so much worse than the chimps James had shown me before. I would have done
anything
to un-see that. What I just had. Anything. Anything to go back to the ignorance of before.

Angrily I kicked the railing. It vibrated.

I opened my palm and looked down at the tiny thumb drive. My lips twist down grimly. My fingers curled around it till my nails bit into my skin. I had to swallow it down. I’d make myself be sick if I kept thinking on it. There was no use worrying over it now. I’d seen it, I knew. Now I just had to figure out what to do with my new knowledge. How best to help my friend.

At last I turned back for the room and trudged numbly to the bookshelf.

When the thumb drive was hidden once more, I walked slowly back into the centre of the room to look down at James, still sleeping. I wanted nothing more than to take him in my arms and hold him. Apologise for being so stupid. I wanted him to know that I knew now. That I understood. Perhaps not completely. How could I, without experiencing it?

At that moment, James turned over, eyes narrowed to slits. I switched off the light quickly, knowing it would hurt his head. He blinked languidly up at me.

‘Feeling any better?’ I tried to keep my expression normal. Not guilty. Not scarred by what I had just seen.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. ‘A bit.’

Another lie? How much pain was he actually in? He knew how to hide it. If he hadn’t come staggering back to me all bloody, I wouldn’t have even known he’d had a problem.