ANGEL BLUE [1]

LEAD 15: beat around the bush

      It crosses my mind about what I’d do with my life if I never woke up or became a vegetable. I mean the one thing I love more than shooting cop killers, watching Criminal Minds or having a descent coffee: is working things out. My mind craves to be used, to be pushed to its extremities or else I’ll get bored and want to get euthanized like some sick dog.

      My seizure finally stops after fifteen tense minutes, the jolting movements end and I lay like a corpse. Snag reaches for my pulse and breathes a sigh of relief that my heart is still beating, the look of terror on Dad’s face is enough to make my eyes cross, he drops his phone and promptly bursts into tears.

      But I don’t pay attention to him; my only focus is how still Sam is as he looks at me but doesn’t see me. Sam’s twitching, restlessly, unnerving muscle by muscle. He probably thought I was going to die and I did too, I really thought I would. He’d lost a number of partners throughout his short career, and it’s a constant fear of his that I’ll just add to the tally.

      Instead of pretending to be dead for the next couple of years of my life to forget the embarrassment and shame, I inhale a deep gulp of air and try to sit up. Sam notices and removes my hands slowly from my ears and helps me into a sitting position against his knees.

      “Akira how―?” I cut Snag off.

      “I’ve got it,” I say.

      “Akira you’ve just had a severe seizure you can’t keep doing this, you need to rest or it’ll happen again and again until you break,” Snag pulls out his pocket torch again and tries to shine the beam into my eyes but I bat his hand away.

      “Just…just shut up for a second,” I try to get onto my knees but gravity must hate me because I rock back against Sam and his arms steady me, my vision blurs for a moment and I sniff again, feeling the blood run back down my face. “Okay, okay I think I need a chair and my laptop and possibly a bucket because I think I’m going to throw up.”

      “Akira please take a break from this case,” Snag begs.

      “No,” I reply, “I’ve figured it out and thanks to my seizure; it’s brought me one step closer to the killer.”

      • • •

      Nikita’s blood is attacking my system, I don’t feel it but Nikita’s gene is trying to mould with mine. Nikita’s blood reacts when my gene activates. It may act as a poison but that’s only because my brain is literally opening the most important pathway.

      I split the whiteboard in half with my marker while I lean back in my chair; I start to draw a diagram to explain how enlightened I’ve become thanks to Henry Nikita. I draw two intersecting circles, much like a Venn Diagram and then draw a triangle from the top intersecting point and connect and the bottom of both circles. In the middle of the triangle I draw a filled-in circle and to the left and right of the circle I draw two more and then do the symbol for pie above the circles.

      “Snag you said that the Diablo gene is an IAP-binding mitochondrial protein which allows progressive neural functions, well, while I was convulsing―I believe whatever God exists gave me a big slap in the face and I’ve returned to earth, somewhat open-minded,” I say.

      “My little diagram is what the Diablo gene does to our mind, it opens the pineal gland, which contains the same proteins used to produce photo receptor cells in the eye. When eventually activated, dormant areas of the brain are switched on causing an accelerated intuitive awareness such as clairvoyance, telepathy and profound ‘visionary’ understanding,” I twirl in my chair. “This explains the Diablo gene’s final mutation―what Nikita has reached and wants me to as well.”