Here is a fragment of what I have from the latest chapter of my work-in-progress: Adagio for Canon. It’s still very rough and could be subjected to massive modifications. So, enjoy!
The pills were tasteless; nothing tastes the same as they did many years ago. My pressure was 137/87 and my intraocular pressure was 15.5 mmHg. I guess these medications were really doing their job.
“Hmmmm, how are you feeling today?” The doctor lifted the thermometer infront of the light fixture. “98.2° F, you’re normal. Let’s take a look at the chemical analysis.”
“Doc, the pain in my left arm is returning.” I tried adjusting the apparatus strapped to my arm.
“Yes, it’s connected to the sensor within that arm. We can’t stop the analysis midway.”
“Well, can’t you speed it up?”
“If I did that, the analysis would be inconclusive.”
The device beeped. It sprouted like a mechanized drill, spinning till it was halfway out, projecting a hologram with various graphs and percentages.
“So, how does it look, doc?” I could make sense of a few numbers, but the others were beyond my knowledge.
“There is a sporadic increase in certain chemicals and the abnormal cellular growth has seen an increase of 10% from last month.”
“So, I’m pretty much doomed.”
“Not entirely, we’ll give you a few other medications to slow it down and manage the residual elements—”
“—Which are a side-effect of the same medications that are being used to halt the cancerous cells.”
“Good grief. Well, do whatever you have to do, doc.”
“You have to place more trust in us, Victor.”
“What I don’t trust is the fact that I have to take eight different pills every day, three times a day, and four injections two times a week.”
I got off the hospital bed and walked out of the room, the doctor followed behind. His white lab coat was fairly primitive, seeing that nowadays doctors used no coats whatsoever. Was it because he was old? Old habits die hard? Or are we truly that behind in these modern times?
“We could help you more if we had access to better medical equipment.” He played with his long gray beard.
“And risk being butchered by the lovely Premier?”
I know what he’s trying to do. His Hippocratic Oath came before the fear of death. That was pretty noble, coming from a sixty year old man, but we couldn’t risk getting caught. Our operations extended over to the Honduran, Guatemalan and Petén territories. We can’t risk it.
“Just make sure you take your pills and drink this.” He tossed a bottle with a murky green aspect. Tiny blue particles suspended in the fluid and small green flakes floating around, collecting on the bottom of the bottle.
“It looks disgusting.”
“It’s a supplement to help you stay healthy and normalize other bodily functions.”
I looked at it in disgust, sniffing it from time to time. “It smells nasty.”
“Drink it or –”
“—I’ll make you drink it!” She stood by the doorway.
“I’m leaving Victor to you.” The doctor greeted her, turned around and returned to his room.
“I know what you are going to say and I have a very good expla—”
“Shush and drink it up.” Michelle grabbed the bottle and unscrewed the cap. “Or I will be forced to have that made into a suppository.”
I swallowed hard.
We walked out of the base, into the soft white sand of the beach. The waves were small, the day was sunny, and the ocean breeze had a mixture of the same familiar salty sea smell and a depressing death-like scent. Just beyond these coasts, my people were being enslaved. The seagulls glided through the strong wind, wandering aimlessly into the setting sun. Michelle held my hand, our fingers entwined, I could feel her stare. “What are you thinking?”
How could I tell her that my thoughts echoed with the idea of death, revenge, and sex? Anger, ecstasy and pain, the three deepest emotions that have engulfed by body since the day of the explosion; this was dreadful way to live one’s life. I would wash these feelings down with liquor, much to the dismay of my doctor.
Michelle tucked her light blue skirt between her legs; the small white frills on the edge of the skirt shook violently as the wind battered our bodies. Letting go of my hand, she wrapped her arms around my waist, hugged me tightly, and pressed her breasts against my chest. Looked into my eyes, she kissed my cheek and quickly resting her head on my shoulder.
“A month from now, I have to proceed with the mission.”
“So?” she asked.
“I have to seduce Anastasia.”
She sighed. “And why should I care about that? I know who you are, inside and out.” Running her hands down my back, she grabbed my belt. “I know you more than anyone else. I’m not the jealous type.”
“Your hands say something completely different.”
She giggled, “Maybe they want something else.”
“Our biggest benefactor is something else.”
“Your biggest benefactor needs physical contact too, not just lovey-dovey emotions.”
“As you wish, ma’am.”
I gently ran my fingers through her orange hair. Kissing her forehead, we headed back to the base. San Pedro was exempt of Amelia’s influence but for how long? This island was slowly overrun by more and more propaganda from Amelia’s Administration. Michelle Langley was the only person who still had enough power and influences to sway the public, even if her family had all died during the battle of St. George’s Caye.
“So, what’s the new mission?” she asked.
“Guide the Petén governor into starting a war.” I replied.
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’ll persuade her, Sophia is a very impressionable lady.”