Death Departed

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

I wake up to the smell of fried breakfast and my stomach rumbles expectantly. The paisley room is small and comfortable, a shaft of light falls on to the bed through the half-open shutters and dust sparkles gold in the air. I change in to some clothes from the bag: a slate grey jumper, black jeans and a pair of black suede boots, then dash into the bathroom (an almost Victorian contraption) before heading downstairs. Quinton is already there. He’s setting the table as I walk in but straightens up as soon as he sees me and asks whether I prefer eggs fried, boiled or scrambled.

“Fried.” I reply. He indicates to a seat at the table and almost immediately my breakfast is in front of me: fried eggs, crisped bacon, mushrooms and buttered toast.

“So,” I ask between mouthfuls of mushrooms, “How is it that you have the time to be involving yourself with someone like me?” It’s a question that’s been on my mind for a while. I almost asked it yesterday evening, when we were playing chess in the snug, but I hadn’t felt in the mood to ask.

Quinton swallows, “I’m at University – reading politics at Cambridge. This is my Christmas break.”

“And you’ve decided not to spend it with your parents?”

He shakes his head, “We have a somewhat difficult relationship. I actually planned to visit a friend of mine in Zurich; he was a visiting professor at Cambridge last year. Then, I met you and my plans changed.”

“What about your friend in Zurich?”

Quinton has turned the same shade of yellow he’d been the day before. “He was killed. I heard it on the news last night.”

I let out a sharp breath, my eyes narrowing. “Please tell me that his death has nothing to do with the discussion you were going to have with him?”

He turns his head away. “I can’t.”

My brain’s working furiously. “This is real.” I say quietly, more to myself than him, “Am I anything to do with your discussion?”

“Look, Lina. You need to understand that there’s something not quite right about you and the others who are ordained. You’re a science experiment that only a few select people know about. You, in particular, have everything to do with this because it’s through your memories that I know what the government is trying to do. I have a glance into a world which most people don’t know even exists.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions though. I support what the government is trying to do, we all do.”

‘Yes but even you have a very narrow idea of what’s happening. Listen, I told Christoph about you and now he’s dead. Someone has something to hide.”

“But maybe it’s for the best. It all seems so rational, that those with the most to offer are kept alive so they can help human kind for longer.”

“And what about you? What are you doing to benefit people at the moment?”

“That’s different. I’m still looking for my purpose.”

“Are you happy?”

His question catches me off guard. I recall Xenia’s birthday party and that yearning to feel human. A yearning that somehow subsided when I was in Quinton’s presence.

“No.” I say eventually, “I feel lonely mostly, always on the outside of things. I can’t have a life like everyone else and… I have nightmares, terrible ones.” My voice chokes.

“What are your nightmares about?” Quinton asks gently.

“I just wonder if maybe I wasn’t meant to be saved. I haven’t found my purpose yet and I worry about what will happen if I never do.”