Mirage Beyond Flames (Coriola) (17 page)

He collapsed back on the bed, roaring with laughter and holding his stomach
. When his laughter subsided, he pulled her against him, whispering directly into her ear:

“I adore t
he analogies your dirty little mind makes sometimes. However, I wasn’t talking about that kind of cock, but about those you find as fillets in the supermarket.”

“Is th
at so? This horrible noise comes from a future fillet? I wanna see what this monster looks like,” she said rushing to the window then opened it and stuck her head out.

In the neighbors’ yard, a synod of
more or less domesticated creatures were in full activity.

A few chickens were running over each other’s feet to p
ick up the grains spread around for them. From the height of a coop, the harem’s leader was supervising them – a rooster of impressive proportions, motley and bumptious, who was showing remarkable vocal abilities.

Among the chickens strolled an odd
beast, strangely colored. Linda found out later it was a turkey.

“I think I’ll seriously consider beco
ming a vegetarian,” she said yawning, stretching languorously.

G
erard smiled, wrapping his arms around her.

“
I don’t think that’s a wise choice, my love. There are certain studies which show that vegetarians are more predisposed to illness and their organisms are less resistant compared to those of people who consume meat. There isn’t any real adequate substitute for the substances contained by meat, that’s why the human is genetically built to be… omnivorous,” he concluded.

“Do we really have to wake up this early
?” she asked lying on the bed once more.

In that moment the creek of the bathroom door came from the ha
llway. He said:

“You get some more sleep, baby. I’m gonna go wash, see if Jean’s awake
. Then we’re going to the clinic to talk. He told me he’d like me to see the patients he has here.”

So saying, he pulled
on a pair of faded jeans and a black sleeveless T-shirt.

“But it’s not
polite for me to sleep that long,” she protested weakly.

W
hen her head sank into the fluffy pillows, sleep claimed her almost instantaneously. Gerard bent over and gently kissed her forehead, smiling toward her sleeping form.

* * *

When she woke up, the light was terribly strong, as she’d forgotten to lower the shutters. For a moment she looked around disoriented then remembered where she was. She’d never liked sleeping in unfamiliar places, but this house had something welcoming. She loved the lavender and wood smell, the scent of freshly washed clothes. The air wasn’t nearly so fresh in London like it was in this city – in fact, in the whole country. These people had something special, not only dreamlike landscapes and delicious food. They also had an interesting history…

S
uddenly, she remembered their experience in the woods. Each detail was so clear in her mind that everything Jean-Paul had told them the previous night seemed a not-so-good joke.

She got up and took the camera from the nightstand, where
she’d left it before going to bed. She turned it on, noticing it had a low battery level. Still, she browsed through the photo gallery from the device’s memory, without finding any trace of the pictures taken in the woods.

“Unbelievable!” she said to herself, crossed by such
contradictory feelings, combing her fingers through her hair in frustration.

After tidying the room a bit, s
he dressed into a pair of short jeans and a pink tank-top, then made the bed.

The bathroom was in the hallway,
next to their room, modest but clean, as the rest of the house. She hurriedly washed, brushed her hair and braided it. Taking a deep breath, she went in search of Mariana.

She found her in the kitchen, cooking breakfast.

“Good morning,” she said.

“
Bonjour
!” replied the woman smiling. “Sleep well?” she asked in her rudimentary English.

“Excellent! Can I help you?”

“No, no, sit. You eat?”

Linda looked longingly at the sandwiches with ham, cheese, tomatoes slices, cucumber and fresh dill.

“Definitely,” she nodded enthusiastically. “Where are Gerard and Jean?”

“At the clinic,”
the woman replied, placing in front of her guest a huge plate. Along all the goodies, she also put a mug of milk. “Talk medical business.”

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Linda asked, indicating the plate and the seat in front of her.

“I don’t eat morning. I have to go to market. You come with me?”

“Yes
, if you’ll wait for me to eat,” Linda replied returning the smile.

The market was at a short walking distance from the house. It was a crowded place, where Linda felt lost. All the vendors were trying to entice her to buy their products, talking so fast she got dizzy only by trying to follow their lips, without understanding a thing.

Mariana held her arm as though
she was afraid not to lose her. After a few artistic bargaining rounds, they left the crowd loaded with strawberries, two cantaloupes which smelled divine – Mariana explained her this was the way to test them, by smelling them – and other bags containing fresh vegetables.

Thus loaded, they made their way back home, conversing in a strange languag
e – a mix between several tongues and the infallible expressivity of gestures. Since they both had their hands full of bags, this communication system was a bit difficult, but it created a state of amusement, as well as a bond beyond words between the two women. Now and again, they stopped in the middle of the road laughing, trying to make themselves understood by the other.

* * *

“You just might be a genius, boy,” Jean-Paul told Gerard while lighting yet another cigarette, studying the notes and reports in front of him.

They had made together the visits and routine check-up of all patients, exchanging impressions and suggestions. Now, seated
in Jean’s smoky office, they’d reached the analysis of the reason that had brought the young couple to Romania.

“If you succeed in obtaining more positive results
, documented, with this treatment you will revolutionize the entire medical world,” Jean went on, watching his friend from above the top of his glasses. “It could be something fantastic!”

“I could say the same
about your hellebore treatment,” replied Gerard, who sat on the other side of the desk, carefully reading the data from Jean’s file. “From what I see here, you’ve obtained more results than me, not only regarding a single form of cancer. Do you realize how many people we could save with these papers, Jean?” he asked,  his eyes sparkling with the passion and altruism which had guided him during his whole life. “Thousands, maybe millions! Not to mention your treatment is considerably less expensive than mine. There could be entire plantations of hellebore. The Mojave rattlesnake’s venom isn’t that easy to get. So who’s the genius?” he exclaimed, elated for the first time in a long while, feeling the vital importance of their discoveries.

Jean-Paul took off his glasses and looked at him seriously.

“Gerard, don’t get too enthusiastic yet. I don’t know if I’ve told you this before, but I’m not the one who invented or discovered this plant’s properties. Here in Romania there’s an old history about this. It was a famous case of a Romanian lawyer. His name was Dumitru Calina, I’ve read his story in a magazine a few years back. He had developed throat cancer from an untreated pharyngitis, followed by a cavum tumor with extension to the base of the skull, which had been infested with pus. No doctor gave him a chance. In the hospital, he met an old lady, who told him he could make a hellebore treatment if he dared. Obviously, the man didn’t find anything more dangerous than death, which was imminent anyway, so he looked everywhere for this plant and a formula to prepare it. Due to its high toxicity level, it can’t be found in pharmacies. Eventually, he encountered some old folks who told him where to find this root and how to properly prepare it. They warned him they used this brew only for animals, in case of serious diseases. They didn’t know what effect it had on humans. So Dumitru Calina used himself as a guinea pig. After countless experiments on his own body, he was declared healed, amazing the entire medical world. A fact which might have helped more were the cobalt radiations. During the procedure he noticed that, because of using hellebore, his hair hadn’t fallen like the other patients’ had.”

Gerard was listening carefully, fascinated by the impressive
story of a man whose name he’d never heard before.

Jean took another drag from the almost forg
otten cigarette, resuming his story:

“Following this miracle,
Dumitru Calina opened a practice in Iasi and developed a treatment with which he cured hundreds of cancer patients. But the Romanian state made things so difficult for him, he was forced to close his practice. The Americans however were smarter. They picked him up immediately. Now he’s at a private study center from Louisiana, where they make research over this plant, with amazing results.”

“Well, why wasn’t this incredible treatment put into practice here, in Romania?” asked Gerard intrigued.

Jean looked at him meaningfully.

“Why else? From the same
reason the genius Burzynski met with such impediments after discovering antineoplastons. Worldwide conspiracy,
mon cher
. No human in this world hasn’t managed to defeat it. Pharmaceutical, food  industries, the financial empires paved with so many dead bodies… Be careful, my friend. Know what you’ll have to face, what price you’ll pay for your discovery and the comfort you want to offer.”

Gerard clenched his fists involuntarily, knowing how much truth there was in his friends’ words. He shook his head sadly.

“Jean, our oath as physicians will stand anywhere, anytime. No matter what happens, I won’t stop my research. There has to be a way for us to do our jobs peacefully, to save lives, to do our duty. And you,” he lifted his index to the other man, “I hope you haven’t resigned to this small clinic, to curing a few patients when there are millions of people out there who need these!” he indicated the papers in his hand.

The older man smiled wistfully
, lighting yet another cigarette.

“I
’m old now, my friend. I do what I can and I will continue doing it until I die. Still, I don’t have the strength, the energy I had back in my youth. But you… You have the warrior spirit, the honor and motivation necessary to win such a battle. That’s why I called you here. Take it,” he said indicating the file which contained his life’s work. “I know you’ll make sure they won’t fall into dirty hands.”

Chapter Nineteen

It was afternoon when Linda heard the front door opening. She was sitting on the couch with Mariana, watching an American movie. In her lap rested Daniela, the Battiste family cat, from which Linda couldn’t be separated since they’d met that day. Mariana told her the cat had been away for two days and she’d probably come pregnant again – the way she used to do at least twice a year, having kittens scattered around the whole neighborhood.

Daniela’s golden fur was dusty and disheveled, but Lind
a didn’t care. She caressed her lovingly, as comfort for her missing Pirata so much.

The two men entered, ta
king off their shoes in the doorway, as was the custom in the Battiste home. This was generally a custom in all Romanian homes.

“Did y
ou finish debating medical business?” Mariana asked, rising.

“Approximately,”
her husband replied. “Daniela, you slut, you’re back?” he addressed the cat who jumped from Linda’s arms and began rubbing against her master’s legs. “She’s overwhelming us with nephews every year,” Jean told Gerard who had bent to stroke the cat’s golden fur.

“Go on, wash your hand
s and go to the kitchen to eat,” Mariana told them. “We had lunch long ago.”

“It was very well you did. Thank you, Marian
a, you are a treasure,” Gerard told her, kissing Linda’s cheek. “After that delicious dinner last night I was thinking to propose you to leave this old man and marry me instead,” he said winking.

Everybody laughed, including Linda, but this banal joke brought a very strange feeling in her soul. The thought that Gerard could be married to another woman, that he could touch or look at another woman with the passion reserv
ed only for hear triggered an acute, inexplicable dread in her heart. She was always telling herself she didn’t want more than a free relationship, that she had no rights over this man because she didn’t want him or anyone else to claim any rights over her. Yet now, for a moment, she looked at him like she saw him for the first time. She admired his tall stature and broad shoulders, on which the whole world seemed to press. His smile was tired, but she thought he was the most attractive man on Earth. Something was different in him though. She wondered what he’d spoken to Jean. However, she decided it wasn’t the moment to start such a discussion.