Science, Eternal Life, and a Traveling Circus 2

Chapter Five

Derrick Walsh's apartment had a minimalist quality that came as a surprise to Abraham. The walls were plain painted white and lacking any artworks or photographs. The floor was bare, artificial wood in its most common orange-hued shade. The furniture, of the same wood, was sparse.

A table that sat two stood outside of the kitchen. A writing desk, a chest of drawers, and a few standard pieces filled space in the bedroom, through a separate doorway. Derrick draped a ratty old blanket over an armchair in the empty lounge and sat Abraham down.

"Stay where you are," he said. "I'm setting the alarm on the door. If you try to leave, I'll know."

Abraham looked around the room curiously. His head spun. He couldn't focus on anything. He pushed up his spectacles and looked to Derrick. He'd slipped in and out of consciousness throughout the day, which left him feeling perpetually disoriented. "I think you got carried away, Derrick. I..." He shuddered. "I can't feel my leg." He chuckled queasily and poked his finger into the quarter-sized hole in his trouser. "Oh my." His finger slid easily into his leg and didn't feel a thing. "Oh my."

"Tomorrow morning we will try to arrange a meeting with Lord Pallis. Get your finger out of your leg—it's disgusting."

Abraham stared dumbly. He poked his finger into the other hole, where the iron hook had poked upwards after entering through the first. "Am I in shock? Am I losing my leg? Did you strike a nerve with that hook? Am I going to live to see the morning? Do you have any morphine? Bourbon? Anything?"

"Shut up, Walters. You're overreacting." Derrick hung up his coat and vest. When the gate guards had given him the directions to Abraham, he had stormed over immediately and given the bastard the beating of his life, starting with an iron hook through the man's leg. In and out, leaving two holes at the top of the man's fragile thigh. He had screamed at the top of his pathetic lungs, unable to make out words until he lay collapsed and defeated on the concrete cell floor. That was when he had whispered what he had discovered.

"I spoke to Drew Hughes," he had managed, close to delirium from shock and blood loss, "I have information."

"What kind of information?" Derrick had asked.

"The lost subjects. The ones he helped to escape." Abraham had coughed until he was breathless. "I know where they are."

But Derrick hadn't been able to get the information out of the man, who knew very well that his information was the only thing that made him worthwhile. Very reluctantly, Derrick had filed the paperwork for his release and brought the man to his home. If he truly knew what he claimed to, then a million dollar reward could turn to a billion dollar reward. Derrick hungered for that, and for the glory of it. Oh, imagine the pride and pleasure on Lord Pallis's face when he would say he had found Drew Hughes, the notorious criminal, and the lost test subjects that he had freed? Derrick would never have a worry again. He'd be invited to the red carpet of all the finest parties. He'd be the talk of the town. He would have everything.

He wasn't interested in sharing. Especially not with Abraham Walters. He despised the man.

"Oh my..." Abraham moaned softly. Derrick looked, but this time, Abraham's eyes were closed and he slumped in the chair. If he was awake, he wouldn't be for long.

Derrick narrowed his eyes, and, satisfied, retired to his bedroom. He flicked his precious recording device into the air, caught it, and flicked it again. He slid it under his pillow.

***

Master Hughes stood over a box of potion vials sat upon a barrel. His hand traced over the box and he stared down. Slowly, repetitively, he banged his head against a shelf on the caravan wall. He didn't look up when Alyn entered, unsurprised by her appearance. She was the alchemist sort. The sort that took to healing, and always tried to help—even when it wasn't wanted. She couldn't heal him or help him. Hughes was troubled far beyond her understanding. He was troubled beyond his own.