‘Come on,’ he said, gently putting a towel around her shaking shoulders. ‘Let’s go and get into bed. It’ll be more comfortable.’
He led her out of the bathroom, and the cool air hit their damp skins, making them shiver. The sheets were even colder, but as Paul started to make love to her again, they forgot about everything except the sensations going on between them. Even the terrors of Sampson shooting Mrs Bainbridge, and then trying to kill them – it all receded, temporarily, and Kate and Paul gratefully embraced the reprieve.
Kate slipped out of bed into a patch of sunlight. Blue sky was visible through a gap in the curtains, a gentle draft buffing away the scent of last night. Paul was still sleeping, his broad naked shoulder visible above the quilt. She reached down to stroke his face but, not wanting to wake him, thought better of it, and padded to the bathroom instead.
After dressing, she scooped up Paul’s keys from the corner table and crept out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
The brightness of the morning hurt her eyes, but it felt like a kiss on her skin. She stretched; yawning, smiling. She felt fifteen years younger, a girl of twenty, a girl in love, just waking up to the beauty of the world. All the aches in her body were pleasant ones. His touch reverberated on her lips, her belly and thighs. She was sore between her legs – the kind of soreness that can only be soothed by more sex. She stood still, the pub behind her, and drew in a deep breath
When had she last felt this way? Oh, she knew very well: that summer sixteen years ago with Stephen. It had never been the same with Vernon. Their relationship was more like a science project; no, a business transaction. Each had something the other wanted. She was lonely, her soul bruised by what had happened in England, and she didn’t want intensity, just companionship. Someone to talk to, to go out with. Someone to make her feel safe at night when she woke up shivering, fleeing the fires that roared through her dreams. Vernon wanted somebody to help his career, and Kate, the beautiful and friendly English scientist so respected around the university, was perfect. She was sure he had loved her too, for a time, especially when she became pregnant with the son he so wanted. But Vernon had never taken her breath away. He had never made her feel like running naked down the street, singing.
She headed towards Paul’s car, jangling the keys and humming an old song that she hadn’t heard for years. What was it? Some song that she and Stephen had danced to in his flat. The Cure, that was it. It was called ‘Just Like Heaven’, and the lyrics came back to her: a song about a girl who loved a boy too much; a boy who lost the girl because he couldn’t give her everything she wanted. She had deliberately avoided music from that period for years, because she hadn’t been able to bear the reminder of what she had lost. Now, though, the tune made her feel happy again, and it was all because of last night. When she pressed her body against Paul’s she didn’t feel his brother. When she closed her eyes, she hadn’t seen Stephen. It had all been brand new. She had been afraid that making love with Paul would be like making love to a ghost. In fact, it had been more like an exorcism.
Besides, she thought with a little smile, ghosts aren’t warm. Ghosts don’t leave you feeling tender and sated. Ghosts don’t have eyes and hands that pin you to the bed. Ghosts don’t make you climax like the world is folding in on itself.
Unlocking the car door, she leaned over to the back seat and picked up the envelope that Mrs Bainbridge had given her.
Kate used to think that Stephen had been stolen from her by fate, by God or destiny or bad luck. Now, she was sure the thieves had human hands. Sampson, of course. He must have had something to do with it. But who else? And why? She carried the envelope back to the room hoping its contents held some answers; at the same time dreading what she might find.
Paul was sitting up in bed when she got back.
‘Were you dreaming about being dragged through a hedge backwards?’ she laughed, going over and smoothing down his hair and kissing his stubbly face.
‘Eh? I thought you’d done a runner.’
‘Hoped?’
‘Don’t be silly. I was actually hoping that you might come back to bed.’
The quilt had fallen to reveal his naked torso. She almost licked her lips. She wanted to lick his lips. But that would have to wait for a while. She sat down on the bed and held up the documents.
‘I need to take a look at these – you know, the papers Mrs Bainbridge gave me.’
Paul flung aside the quilt and got up, giving Kate a full view of his body. A few seconds ago, this might have been enough for her to say the documents could wait; but by now she had started reading.
HIGHLY CLASSIFIED
Subject: Fem 634
Personal details
Sex: F
Ethnicity: White European
Kate gasped when she saw her birthdate on the next line. She was reading about herself. She tried to read on but her eyes skidded across the text, and she had to take a moment to steady herself and concentrate.
Medical history: contracted Watoto Virus, aged 12. (Note: Parents, known to CRU director Bainbridge, were killed by the virus.) No other history of serious illnesses. Subject is physically fit.
Mental health: subject suffered withdrawal following parents’ deaths, but no known recent history of psychiatric problems.
Subject admitted to psych unit following fire at CRU on Aug 27th for quarantine and reconditioning.
Kate, who had started reading the report out loud to Paul, paused. Her voice wobbled. ‘Reconditioning?’
Their eyes met. Paul’s were round with concern, and he gripped her free hand as she read on.
Quarantine successful. Subject is free of virus. (See separate report on the investigation into errors made.)
Subject has knowledge of microbiology and virology, and had embarked on relationship with Dr S Wilson of CRU. CRU security believed subject had become high-risk individual, and interview following fire confirmed this. Therefore reconditioning necessary to allow subject’s release into society, at request of Unit director.
We embarked upon course of treatment known as the Pimenov Technique. Subject responded well to drugs and hypnosis.
For your reference, the Pimenov Technique is based on
Kate turned to the next page. The sentence never finished.
‘I don’t believe it. There’s a sheet missing.’
Instead, the next sheet started with the end of a separate, chilling sentence:
recommend subject for disposal.
Awaiting clearance from Unit director.
ENDS
Kate dropped the papers onto the bed and clutched her face. Paul picked up the papers and quickly read through them.
‘Recommended for disposal.’
He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘You’re shivering.’
‘Disposal.’
He held her, stroking her hair until the shivering subsided. Then she pulled away from him and said, ‘What the hell is the Pimenov Technique?’
‘Kate, there’s another sheet you haven’t read yet.’
She hoped it might be the missing sheet from the report, but it was a letter, addressed to Leonard.
Dear Leonard
I must stress again that I am not at all happy with your decision to allow Kate Carling to leave the Unit when we are not yet 100% sure that her treatment has been