Homecoming, page 38
“Is... she...?” Marko wheezed through a sore throat.
Lizzie bent down and checked the other woman's pulse.
“Yes,” she confirmed.
Marko felt like crying as he'd just lost his friend twice in quick succession, which was two times too many.
“How's Wendell doing?” he asked.
“He's alive,” the other man answered as he came staggering towards them. “Just about,” he added groggily as he stopped to lean against a table.
Marko and Lizzie rushed towards him and helped him into a chair. Marko leant against the wall to hold himself upright and fought the urge to throw up.
“Any idea what the hell is going on with your friend? Why did she just go nuts and try to kill us?” Wendell asked.
“That's not her,” Marko replied. “Not the real Tara at least. Something... something must have happened to her, been done to her.”
“You mean she wasn't always a deranged lunatic?” Wendell snarked.
“No, and watch your mouth,” Marko warned him. “She was one of the best people I've ever known. She gave everything to this town.”
“Then what the actual hell?” Wendell demanded.
“She died. At the school, I mean,” Lizzie responded. “She was dead. I checked her myself: no pulse, no heartbeat – she was dead.”
“Until she wasn't,” Wendell proffered. “Speaking of which, are we sure that this time she’s...?”
All three of them turned back to Tara, but the spot was empty. She was gone.
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“Nathan? What's my father doing here?” Belle asked the second of her three burning questions.
Hugh Morton had been a spectre casting a long shadow over her life for the past quarter of a century, and when she'd finally returned home to confront her past, safe in the knowledge that she wouldn't have to face the man, here he was.
“I'm not a monster, Belle. I need you to know that,” Nathan replied slowly. “It's important to me that you understand that.”
“I can see that,” she lied. “I can see that your heart was in the right place.”
“DON'T PATRONISE ME!” he suddenly roared at her, and she mentally kicked herself for making such an error. This wasn't a child in front of her; this was a very dangerous man.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just mean that I understand where you are coming from. The applications of your work would be... well, they would change the world, Nathan – you'd change the world.”
She strove for an earnest tone and hoped that she at least came close. His expression relaxed a little, and she knew that she had at least partially hit the mark.
“But what has my father got to do with any of this?”
“In truth, it’s not about him, Belle, it's about you; it's always been about you.”
“Oh, Nathan, look... I'm... flattered but...”
His laughter came out loud and sudden, an explosion of mirth that she hadn't expected.
“Oh, I'm sorry.” He chuckled when he finally had himself under control. “No, Belle, I didn't mean it that way. Wow, the ego on you, right? After everything I've done for Tara, you really think that I've been holding a torch for you all these years? I hate to burst your bubble, but I really do think of you as just a friend.”
“Then what? What in Christ’s name has any of this got to do with me?”
“I had to make you come home, Belle, and your father seemed like the best option to make that happen.”
“I was told that he had died.”
“A little white lie I'm afraid, but quite necessary, I assure you.”
“I don't understand. Jesus, Nathan, I don't understand any of this!” she exclaimed.
“He wouldn't tell me where you were, Belle. As hard as I pressed him, he wouldn't say. I came to think that he really didn't know. I know that you have all kinds of daddy issues, but speaking as an impartial observer, you really ought to give the guy a break.”
“Why did you need me to come home, Nathan?” she asked pertinently, but at the same time, she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to know the answer.
The whole time they'd been talking, she'd simply been playing for time. The guy was seriously disturbed, and right now she didn't care about his research or his wild claims; she just knew that she was in trouble here and so was the rest of the town.
“Something I found in my grandfather’s personal papers, Belle, a secret that he had kept hidden from almost everyone… almost. While I lost crucial information as far as the serum goes, there was another way to try and reclaim what was missing, to reverse engineer Edgar’s work. Can you guess how?”
“And this is supposedly where I come in somehow?” she scoffed.
“Tell me something, Belle. Do you ever remember getting sick as a child? Coughs? Colds? Fevers? Do you remember when we were all about seven and there was an outbreak of chickenpox that spread through our school class like wildfire? Everyone got it, remember? Everyone except you.”
“No. I do remember that, but I got it too, I'm sure I did. My parents kept me off school that week too.”
“They kept you home, but you didn't catch it, Belle,” he insisted forcefully. “You snuck out to my place, remember? I was home sick and you crept up to my window. I opened it and we sat out on the roof reading Batman comics together. I was covered in nasty rashes that itched like hell, but you were fine. You joked that I had been infected by the Scarecrow’s toxin, remember?”
She thought hard and did remember that week, but she'd always thought that she'd contracted the virus too. But now, as he spoke, she seemed to remember her mother putting cream on her back but she didn't remember it itching. In fact, she didn't remember any symptoms that the other kids had complained about at all.
“Look, of course I was ill… if not that week. then other times.”
“No, Belle. I remember it clearly because Tara and I used to moan behind your back that you got all the luck, that you never seemed to catch anything. Remember when the three of us ate the cake that we found in my mother's kitchen? We didn't know that she was throwing it out because the cream had gone off. Tara and I were puking up for hours, but you were fine.”
“I don't know what you think you're trying to prove here, Nathan.”
“Remember the time when you fell out of Tara’s treehouse? We all thought that you'd broken your arm, right? You were screaming and sobbing most of the way home. Your arm was bent at a crazy angle. You were holding it all the way home, but by the time we got there, you felt better, and the next morning it was like nothing had happened.”
“Nathan...”
“My grandfather’s secret was you, Belle. It was you.”
“Me what?”
“You died on the same day you were born, Belle. You lived for approximately three minutes before you died. My father should have been the one to deliver you like he did for most of the children born in Wellspring, but fate smiled on you that day because you arrived a few weeks early when my father was out of town. It was my grandfather that delivered you, Belle; it was also Edgar that brought you back.”
“That’s not... you're insane. That didn't... that didn't happen,” she blustered.
“You were my grandfather’s great secret. You were his only successful trial. The serum he used on you is what I've been trying to recreate all these years. What I need to change the world is running through your veins,” he said, pointing to her arm.
“No, no that didn't happen; my parents would have... they wouldn't...”
“They would and they did. Think about it. Your folks would have been distraught with grief. If the doctor at the birth told you he could bring your child back, wouldn't you take that chance? Wouldn't you try anything to save them?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“Incidentally, how are you feeling now? You've been battered around a fair bit recently. Hell, I shoved you off a second-storey fire escape. How are you feeling?”
Her mouth opened to object to his crazy notion, but the words stopped in the back of her throat. In truth, she felt fine – good, actually. He was right. She'd been knocked about all night, and yet she felt fine. Up at the Institute, she had worried that she'd broken an arm or a wrist when she'd broken free of her restraints, and yet now there wasn't so much as an ache in her bones. Only a few minutes ago, she'd woken up woozy and dazed, but that feeling was gone already, along with her limp.
She tried to process what he was telling her, but that was impossible. She also tried to remember being ill at any point in her life, but that was equally difficult. She always thought of herself as a healthy person – she took pride in taking care of herself – but the thought that she couldn't actually remember having anything as simple as a cough or a cold did seem odd.
“Edgar watched on from afar, but here’s where I and my grandfather differ, Belle. I’m afraid that I don't share his extremely overcautious nature. He had the power of the gods in his hands, but he wanted to study you, Belle. He wanted years of data before he would make the next move.”
“Alright, I'll play along with the insanity; so what happened?”
“Edgar and your father struck a deal on your deathbed, Belle. While your mother was too out of it from the traumatic birth to even think straight, your father made a deal with the Devil.”
“What kind of a deal?”
“Ten years is what Edgar promised him. Ten years for you. Ten years of untouched and unfettered life. Ten years to collect precious data before he would come calling for his guinea pig. But guess what? Your father reneged on the deal. He sent you away. He gave you up to save you before the deadline; he gave his family up to save them. He made your mother run with you, knowing that that was the only way to keep you safe, and the only way to stop you coming home was to make you hate him.”
“And I suppose that you got all this from your grandfather’s papers? Did you ever stop to think that they were the ramblings of a crazy man?”
“Actually, no. I got the lead from Edgar, but it was your father that really filled in the blanks.”
Belle found herself turning to the side to face her father. He in turn lowered his gaze through the bars of his cell as he sagged against it.
“Tell me that this is all bullshit, Hugh?” she asked her father. “Tell him.”
But he didn't; he didn't say anything, which in turn said an awful lot.
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CHAPTER 31
Life and Death
Vanek listened to the conversation without the same level of shock that Belle was currently exhibiting. Of course, it helped that he was a dispassionate observer. In truth, he wasn't remotely interested in the lives of these people… all he really cared about was his own.
The basement level seemed to stretch on far in excess of the house above it, and he could only surmise that by now he was out under the ground towards the tree line of the forest.
It would seem that the local veterinarian was the son of a doctor and apparently the grandson of Dr Frankenstein.
He listened to the man's explanations of his life and more recent actions without judgement or, indeed, without disbelief. He appeared to be fully in charge of his own faculties, and Vanek had seen more than enough to support even the most incredulous of stories.
The most important takeaway from all of his talk would be that his interest had been in Belle, the woman who had apparently once been the original test subject as a child.
The first question would be just why the animal doctor hadn't conducted his business with the journalist in a more discreet manner, but perhaps recent events had transpired to overtake such rational plans. A burglary a couple of months ago had caused a power cut, which in turn had caused an escape, which had led to all hell breaking loose. He supposed that in similar circumstances, his own plans might have taken a hit… for that matter, they did, of course. For all of Vanek’s pride in his planning ability, he himself had been forced to improvise, something that he unilaterally loathed.
Working his way through the shadows left him as close as he dared to get to Nathan. While the man hadn't exhibited much in the way of physical prowess, he had been keeping an awful lot close to his chest and shouldn't be underestimated, not now.
The tunnel system had gone on for long enough to make him believe that the only way out couldn't be back the way he'd come. There had to be another exit further up ahead. The percentages told him that right here in the main lab was probably around halfway of the total length.
As far as he could figure, his problem and his answer were both down here. With the cop lady gone, that only left her incompetent kid deputy behind as the law in this town.
Once the authorities arrived, and he was certain that it wouldn’t be long before they did – after all, a facility like the Institute couldn't go offline for long without someone coming looking – this whole place would be in turmoil. The confusion would be long reigning. It would take months for those in charge to dig through what had happened here, and when they did, they wouldn't believe the half of it. Hell, he’d been here and he didn't believe most of it. If he could slip away in the chaos, then he was sure that no one would find him; they wouldn't know where to start looking. With Kline gone, the Colombians would have their pound of flesh, but they would still want their money. That, however, would be Mrs Kline’s problem.
Oddly, it wasn’t the Colombians that he feared searching for him, not now, no. Now it was the slender young woman standing in the darkness having her world blown apart. In the brief time that he’d known her, he'd seen enough to see what lurked in her eyes. She was a hunter. It was right there, lurking behind her usually pleasant expression. He guessed that it must have served her well in her job, but he knew that if they both survived this, then she wouldn't let him just fade away. There was local blood on his hands, and she wouldn't be able to let that stand. With everything else, it might well take her some time to get to him, but come she would, and that he couldn't have.
The more he thought about it, the more he thought that the best thing for everyone would be to bury the whole stinking mess, and a glimmer of an idea started to make that a very literal thought.
He was pondering this when he felt eyes on him. His senses kicked in and he cursed himself for getting careless, but when he looked over, he saw that it was Belle herself who had spotted him. She didn't give him away and probably thought that he was here to save her. That was good… let her keep thinking that. The only reason he'd come down here was to make sure that he had every possible piece of the puzzle before he made a final move. Now that he had, he could make it.
He gave her a thumbs-up signal to comfort her, and she looked relieved, before slipping back into the shadows again and making his way back up the tunnel the way he'd come.
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“I... I don't know what I'm supposed to say,” Belle said honestly.
“Say that you’ll help me. Say that you’ll help me change the world,” Nathan replied.
“I get that you believe that, I really do, but tell me something, Nathan: how many people have already died here? How many lives have you taken either directly or indirectly to serve your grand, master plan?”
“I thought that you'd have more vision than that, Belle, I really did,” the man responded, his voice thickly laced with disappointment.
“You thought that I'd be okay with people dying?” she asked incredulously.
“I thought that you'd be able to see the big picture, the biggest picture. I could end all unnecessary death and suffering, Belle. I could take all of it away. I could help people like your parents, parents who lose a newborn baby, parents made to suffer the unimaginable through no fault other than fate’s; isn't that worth it? Isn't that worth anything?”
“No, not anything, Nathan. Bad shit happens… what can I say? But no one life is more important than another, and the price that you’re charging is too high. It's way too high.”
“It’s a shame that you feel that way.” He sighed in reply. “It really is because I was hoping that you'd help me.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Me too,” he responded as he took a small, silver revolver out of his pocket and pointed it squarely at her.
“Nathan? What are you doing?”
“What I have to, Belle, what I have to. The blood in your veins is the answer to a puzzle that I've been trying to unlock for years… a lifetime, in fact.”
“Just take it easy, Nathan,” she said, holding up her hands as fear started to creep into her voice.
“I can't stop now. Don't you see that? If I stopped, then it would have all been for nothing. The people who... the people who made their sacrifices, that would all have been for nothing. They would have died for nothing and I can’t have that, Belle. I’m sorry but I just can’t.”
“You don't have to do this.”
“Oh, but I do.”
“YOU LEAVE HER ALONE!” Hugh yelled out from his cell, but his voice was weak.
“I need your blood, Belle. Now you can give it or I can take it, but I am having it one way or the other,” Nathan said as he cocked the revolver.
“Don’t! Please,” Hugh called out helplessly, but Nathan simply ignored him.
“I didn't want this, Belle, for it to be like this, but you're not leaving me with much in the way of options.”
“You could just stop, Nathan. You could just stop,” she pleaded with her childhood friend.
“It’s too late for that, far too late. If I stopped now, then it would be just like letting Tara die all over again. It would make me a murderer.”
“You are a murderer!” she couldn't stop herself from yelling out. “You're a killer. You're not the hero here, you're the villain. Are you really so far gone that you can’t see that?”
“I can see now that you don't understand, that you don't have the vision.” Nathan sighed sadly. “I'm sorry. I truly am,” he said as his finger tightened on the trigger, and Belle stood rooted to the spot knowing that he was about to pull it.
