Seen And Not Seen (The Veil Book 1) (10 page)
Read Seen And Not Seen (The Veil Book 1) Online
Authors: William Bowden
She leans in to give him a delicate kiss on the lips.
Robert comes around, his eyes creeping open. Monica gently caresses him.
“But that was then and this is now.”
Two pairs of sad eyes gaze into each other with the memories of happier times lost.
Robert’s eyes widen. Horror flashes onto his face.
“Monica…”
Observing his distress, Monica tentatively puts her hand to her face. Her fingers sink into a mush that was her cheek. Withdrawing her hand she finds the flesh on her fingers liquefying. She tries to rise to her feet, but topples back.
Robert strains to lurch forward, just managing to catch her. The two of them tumble to the floor, Monica struggling the get her words out.
“You… mustn’t… touch.”
She writhes in agony, a distressed Robert not knowing what to do.
He reaches out. She knocks his hand away.
But it’s too late—he sees the brown spot on his right palm, at the base of his index finger, grow larger. He stares in horror as it erupts, oozing out a thick, bloody goo that spreads out over his hand.
He stands, staggering backward only to bump into some furniture, topple off balance and come crashing back down. He tries to rise once more, but collapses, lesions breaking out all over his body.
Landelle is already awake. She finds that the routine helps with the monotony. After the hell of the first few weeks had come a full month of probing, prodding, and general intrusion at the hands of medical Embies, guided at a distance by their human masters. But that came to an end and these past weeks had become a waiting game. Eleven more days to the all-clear, the full ninety days having been a hasty dictate of the Supreme Court, in whose care she had been placed as a ward.
As a causality she had experienced nothing of the immediate aftermath. Dr. Felton’s team had found the horror on the Sky Floor, taking considerable personal risks in the extraction, despite all the precautions they could muster. The whole of Manhattan had been evacuated for a full three weeks. Even now a three-block radius marked an exclusion zone around the Cantor Satori tower, enforced by the National Guard.
But today promised a respite from all that.
She checks herself out in the mirror. Despite the unflattering medical gown she agrees with herself that she looks great. Amazing in fact. It would normally have taken a good couple of weeks of vacation, with daily visits to a health spa, and a considerable amount of buffing in a beauty salon to get her approaching anything like what she now sees in her reflection. And she feels just as amazing as she looks.
A set of double doors leads from her small suite of rooms to the main facility. Pushing them open, she is greeted by the usual crowd. Medical staff for the most part, but also the armed guards. All stand behind a thick, yellow line on the floor, several meters away. Felton stands foremost.
“Good morning, Deborah.”
“Richard. So, are we all set?”
“We are. If you would like to make your own way, we’ll watch over the monitors.”
Landelle looks about, “Where are the Embies?”
“We’re not going to use them. In fact they are to be returned to the Cantor Satori building to help out with the investigation. I’m afraid you will be performing their duties here. But something to do, right?”
“Right.” Landelle didn’t like the sound of that. Fetching and carrying—and worse. Mopping.
“So, if you please,” Felton gestures along the path marked out by the yellow line.
Landelle saunters along the short route to another set of double doors, the crowd looking on. As she reaches the doors most of the medical staff turn their attention to a bank of display monitors. Landelle pauses before entering.
“She’s awake,” says Felton. “We have spoken with her and she is broadly aware of her circumstances, but try not to startle her.”
Landelle gently pushes open one side of the doors and steps in. A small suite of rooms like her own, the lighting subdued. Stepping forward into the main living area she finds a young woman standing before a mirror. She is exceptionally beautiful. Early twenties perhaps, but no older.
Transfixed by her own reflection, the young woman does not acknowledge Landelle’s presence.
“Sharanjit? How do you feel?”
With a look of shocked disbelief, Toor gently runs her hand over the perfect almond skin of her face.
A large open-plan living area, replete with contemporary furnishings. A relaxed Lucius takes a sip from his coffee.
“He is gone from me. My black dog.” The strained voice comes from a figure seated opposite. A man encased in a thick body-form suit that betrays the deformities within, his face covered with a gauze-like fabric.
“Do you miss it?” asks Lucius.
“Yes. I find that I do,” says Robert. “Messiah?”
“We think it corrected the imbalances in your brain that caused the bipolar mood swings. It’s a positive sign.”
“And the others?”
“Deborah and Sharanjit have both made a full recovery, though the virus has made changes that we don’t yet fully understand. Sharanjit got it the worst. Almost as bad as you. The British Government have declared her dead and given her a new identity in the Royal Navy.”
Robert hauls himself up from the chair and limps to a set of nearby French windows. He gazes out at a view in silence.
“The Trinity bomb saved you all,” says Lucius. “The radiation weakened your immune systems just enough to allow Messiah in, without the initial toxic shock being fatal.” Lucius stares down at his coffee. “With specialist treatment both Deborah and Sharanjit were able to beat the virus, but you received the highest dose of radiation and Messiah won out.”
“So I am permanently infected?”
“Yes. But you are not contagious. That much we are certain of.”
“They will never let me leave here, will they? Not even when I die.”
“Messiah has completely integrated itself with your body. We can’t predict where it will go from here.”
“And Monica?” asks Robert.
“We think The Veil must have taken her, or her remains at least. We have no idea why.”
Robert pushes open the French doors, stepping through. Lucius joins him.
Before them is a small garden, beyond that a field of wheat, dotted with cypress trees. In the distance is the curvature of the Trinity dome, the repaired bomb spire beneath it.
“It could be worse, I suppose,” says Robert.
The eleven wheelchairs are arranged in an arc, facing down the nave toward the high altar. In each, a painfully thin African child. Justice Garr stands to one side, holding Apio’s hand.
Two figures of white flame emerge from the gloom. A man and a woman. From behind them a young boy appears. It is Peter. He is well.
Peter goes to Apio, takes her hand from Garr’s, and leads her away.
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Seen And Not Seen
is the first in the
Veil
series, all three of which can be read independently of each other as standalone stories in their own right. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I have writing them, and if you do please leave a review if you feel you can.
William Bowden
Wraxall, England 2015
Seen And Not Seen
AChild Of Our Time
The Veil
Details at
williambowden.com
