Chapters

Wednesday 17 September 2014

Chapter 15 - Part 2

Carter Huntington gazed out of the large north facing window, swirling a glass of bourbon casually. Outside, the tops of the trees trembled gently and a collection of dark clouds could be seen in the distance. 

Looks like rain, he thought to himself absently. Good, the land is better for a good dousing, it brings the world to life. 

In his left hand he held several sheets of printed paper, all slightly crumpled in the centre due to his firm grip. Taking a sip of the amber liquid, he dropped the papers, letting them randomly drift to the plush carpet.

"Where is she?" he muttered under his breath, staring unblinkingly at the branches of the horse-chestnut tree. He turned and tossed the remaining bourbon down his throat, before dropping the glass to the floor and placing one hand onto the glass pane. 

He stood, gazing at the dark green leaves and small spiked buds emerging, soon to be dropping and releasing their conkers. When he had received the message, the leaves were lighter green, fresh and vibrant, and the buds still months away from appearing. Had he acted too late? Everything took time. Bribes, under-the-table deals, cross agency politics, back-handers and all the while keeping a low profile. Finding out who was going to do what, which agencies were affiliated with whom and getting someone convincing undercover in a short time-frame. It was what he did, but normally you had a year, maybe more, not a few months. 

He removed his palm from the glass, and watched as the imprint swiftly vanished, leaving no obvious mark. That invisible mark, he pondered, is my whole life. Someone could extract a full set of prints from the glass and know everything about me. A whole person, hidden from sight, yet in plain view. That sums me up nicely, he thought, I am in the public eye, yet know one sees me for who I am. 

No one, that is, except her. She was different. What was it she had said when they first met? 

'Why are you here?' she had asked.

He had thought that was an odd question to ask an MP at a political rally. I'm here to support my party, he had told her. No you're not, she had countered bluntly. You look distracted, she had explained. He had tried to argue he was simply new, and a little nervous about having to make a speech. She had told him that was utter nonsense, that he was perfectly capable of talking in public. She suggested he was uncomfortable selecting one set of principles to adhere to, that he was more suited to a more free-form society. She posited a theory that he was only there to please someone else. And then she left to present a speculative theory, something to do with increased UV levels.

He had looked for her after she finished the seminar, but he found no sign of her. She had apparently left immediately after her presentation. Despite efforts on his part, they did not meet again for another year. 

Carter chuckled lightly, his tanned face creasing with fine lines as he smiled, his dark brown eyes thinning. In his career since that day, he had been the one in control, the one pulling the strings on the puppets below. But she, somehow, had a power all of her own. When she said jump, he didn't just ask how high, he asked what direction, when, and who else should jump too. 

He eyed the curved glass his had let tumble to the cream carpet. A few drops of bourbon were still dangling from the side facing the ceiling, threatening to slide down and merge on the other side, but somehow remaining suspended.

He fixated on oak table reflected in the curve on the base of the glass. Even from a few metres away, he could swear the image was shimmering, as if the glass was vibrating. He glanced up at the vast window, squinting unconsciously at the wide panel. But it seemed perfectly stationary, the only discernible movement was wind outside causing a gentle ripple in the trees.

He stepped towards the glass suspiciously, and knelt, hand outstretched tentatively. There! The image was shimmering. His forefinger touched upon the surface of the glass cautiously, but he could sense no actual movement. Yet, even with his hand holding it still, the reflected image continued to shimmy. He released his gentle touch and leaned in closer. Before his curious eyes, he saw the table vanish in a blur, before the image seemed to re-tune, becoming the reflection, not of the library of his rural retreat, but of her, standing with a sideways smile set within a pale face.

Carter stood and whipped around. The library was gone. The window with the view through to tall horse-chestnut trees was gone. All of this was replaced by a room of pure, perfect white, in which stood Ebbe, James, and three other men he did not recognise.

"Don't worry mate," the tallest chap said, stepping forward, hand outstretched, "even if she explains to you what she just did, you won't understand." Carter stared at the man, and at his waiting hand, before grasping it and giving it a vigorous shake.

"Thank you for keeping her safe," Carter said as he released the man's hand and stepped up to Ebbe. Without saying a word, he grabbed her and pulled her into a tight embrace. From the corner of his eye he noticed the tall man glaring in confusion at this action. 

"Ebbe, my dear lady, I had almost given up on you," he enthused after releasing her from his arms. 

"And I you Hunter," she replied, her eyes flicking to the man he presumed was in charge and back again in a split second.

"Have I ever failed you?" he retorted, before continuing without giving her time to reply, "where in God's name are we?" he marvelled, spinning around on the spot.

"Unless you want to hear about quantum whatnots, don't ask such things," the man in charge told him, "Anthony Bishop, and my team, Art and Jake. This is Krank, current guardian of this chapel, and I guess you know the lad," he added.

Carter nodded to each man respectively. 

"So, Prime Minister, er, how do you two know each other?" Anthony added.

Carter smiled flatly. 

"We've got quite a history, Ebbe and I," he responded cryptically, "isn't that right?" he turned to Ebbe with a wink. She sucked in her lips and offered a wry shrug. 

"Well, I presume you didn't bring me here for a cocktail party?" Carter continued, wanting to move the conversation on swiftly, "and I don't want an international incident to be sparked by my absence, so I suppose it is best we proceed."

"Oh don't worry about that, you're not really here," Ebbe responded cryptically. Carter's face crumpled in confusion.

"Quantum whatnots," Anthony reminded him with a grin, tapping his head.

Carter looked at the ragtag group before him, assessing the situation. They all looked worn and tired, all except the man with the pock-marked face, Art, who looked a beacon of health.

"And it's not an international incident we're trying to avoid," Ebbe explained, fixing him with one of her steely gazes that meant only one thing, trouble. "We're trying to avoid a Biotic Crisis," she concluded.

"A what?" Carter repeated, unfamiliar with the term.

"An extinction level event. End of days," she explained bluntly. 

Carter wished he still had the glass of bourbon in his hand. He needed the reality of the smooth burn down his throat to counteract the sheer unreality of this pure white room, and Ebbe standing before him declaring the world was to end, as calmly as if she had just stated she had made roast chicken for dinner.

"Okay Ebbe," he sighed, "convince me."

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