The Dark Horde (9 page)

The door to the lounge slammed shut.

MONDAY 9:04
AM

Chris Gamble rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms before looking again down the microscope.

The cells had no nuclei like all mammalian blood cells and yet they also contained mitochondria, unlike any known animal blood cell. And they were far too large, complex and interconnected to be anything resembling bacteria.

And then he noticed something else... The mitochondria were definitely moving.

The cells were alive.

Chris jumped away from the lab bench and ran a shaking hand through his hair.

Cells organised together that were still alive in a solution of formaldehyde, bearing no resemblance to any known organism on a molecular level were... Alien.

I’ve discovered something extraterrestrial! But wait... What will this mean for the investigation? For his life?

I’ve got no choice but to tell David, my superior. Otherwise, sooner or later someone else will see what he’d found and question why he hadn’t raised such an anomaly earlier.

I hope David knows what to do.

Chris found forensic pathologist Dr David Dawson with mortuary technician John Taylor downstairs in the ‘homicide’ autopsy room. David and John were wearing white lab coats, forensic masks and gloves. The pair had been working on the bodies of Barney and Frank Weston since late last night. The naked body of Frank Weston lay with the chest cut open on a lipped metal trolley under the glare of a lamp. On a nearby trolley, various dissection tools lay in neat rows next to organs in plastic bags on green surgical towels. The body of Barney Weston, a ‘crispie’, lay in a sealed body bag on a trolley across the room. The air was thick with the sweet miasma of burnt hair and flesh.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Chris began.

David suppressed a yawn and looked up from his gruesome work. “What have you found?”

John looked at Chris with raised eyebrows and a smile. “Your brain?”

Chris answered David. “It’s hard to say what it is.”

“Yeah, I’ll say!” said John laughing.

David ignored John. “What do you mean, Chris?”

“I’ll have to show you. Trust me, it’s something I’ve never seen in my life. And if it’s what I think it is, nor has anyone else.”

David’s face went deadpan. He put down his tools and walked around the trolley to where Chris was standing.

“What are you trying to say?” David said.

“The sample taken from under Frank Weston’s fingernails contains blood cells that don’t seem to be of
any animal
, let alone of any
human
.”

“Surely Chris, there must be some mistake. They must be bacterial cells or–”

“David, I checked the sample again and again to be sure of it myself. Not only do the cells lack nuclei, but they contain organelles I presume to be mitochondria, which are still active in a formaldehyde solution!”

“Still active now?”

“Well, a couple of minutes ago when I left the lab, yes.”

“I have to see this.” David turned to John. “John, you can continue with things here or take a break if you like.”

“I might as well keep going, Dave. I wanna get home and get some sleep!”

“Good idea. I’ll be back soon.” David led Chris out, closing the door to the ward behind them.

John, alone now, turned back to Frank’s body and shuddered.

Frank’s head, attached to the body by muscle tissue only, rested on his right shoulder, staring at John with dead eyes. He didn’t recall the corpse’s eyes being open or the head being placed in such a way.

Now I’m imagining things! Must be lack of sleep.

John moved the head back to a more normal position and closed the eyelids. As he did, he thought he saw one of the legs twitch. He jumped back from the body.

What am I doing? Bodies don’t move so long after death. This is really getting to me. Good thing no one else is here to see me freak out.

John looked again at the body and thought about the find that Chris had allegedly just made. The cells were still alive.

Maybe I will go take a break until the others get back...

John rushed outside, resisting the temptation to run.

Dr David Dawson was on the phone to Sergeant Brian Derwent, head of the investigation into the deaths of Barney and Frank Weston.

“I know it’s a way for you to come to the Institute of Forensic Pathology here in South Melbourne, but it’s really important that you see this before anyone else does.”

Behind David, Chris wrung his hands nervously.

“Today if possible.”

David looked at Chris and nodded.

“After 2pm is fine. Just go to reception and they’ll page me.”

As soon as David hung up, Chris spoke, “What are we going to tell him?”

MONDAY 10:30
AM

Sister May Kennedy sat with Oberon Grammar School Principal Lucas Prescott in the cafeteria of Howqua Hills District Hospital. She placed a cup of steaming coffee on the table before her. “Weeell, he had a CAT scan of his brain done this mornin’...”

“And?”

“And the radiologist couldn’t find any signs of physical trauma.”

“Oh, thank goodness for that!”

“And he couldn’t find any abnormalities or tumours in Danny’s brain either.”

“What a relief!” Lucas leaned forward. “That is good news!”

May raised an eyebrow. “Weeell, although we haven’t found any signs of physical injury, it doesn’t mean that there isn’t any. We need to do more tests. And even if there is no physical damage, the incident may have triggered a psychosis, or some other mental disorder.”

Lucas frowned. “I see... How are his spirits since last night?”

May nodded and took a sip of her coffee. “Yeah nah, much better. There’s been no sign this morning of psychotic behaviour. He’s even been cheery.”

“No hallucinations?”

“No, nor any delusions. However, he had no recollection of last night.”

“Does he remember anything else?”

“Yeah nah, he’s recalled everything up until passing out when the truck almost hit him. We also assessed his reflexes and cognitive skills and took a blood test. The blood test is being analysed today, but everything else looks fine, at least on the surface.”

“That’s quite a recovery since last night!”

“Yeah maybe. We’ll know more after he’s had a psychiatric assessment.”

“When is he having that?”

May looked at her watch. “Since about ten minutes ago.”

In a single ward devoid of decorations save a pastel-coloured painting of the Australian bush, Danny lay reading a history textbook. No drip was attached and no restraints held him. No curtain partitions surrounded him and no nurse sat by his side. Sunlight streamed through the window to his left as footsteps approached the open door to his right.

Danny looked up as a stocky, bearded man dressed in slacks and a brown cardigan entered the room, bearing a briefcase. He wore a thick set of glasses and had a crop of grey hair drawn across his pink scalp.

“Hello Danny. My name is Bernard.”

Danny smiled. “Hello Bernard Russell.”

Bernard stopped.

How did this kid know my surname?

Bernard sat on the chair next to Danny’s bed and placed his briefcase down. “I’m a psychiatrist and I’m here to–”

“Help me,” Danny finished for him. “Aren’t you going to ask how I knew your name?”

“Well, I could ask–”

“It’s on your ID badge. Nice photo.”

Bernard looked down at his badge a moment. “Ahhh but Danny, you couldn’t have been reading it when you said my name. I was too far away.”

Mental note: Subject displays faulty reasoning or deceptive behaviour. Possible Personality Disorder.

“Many things that seem far away are in fact not at all,” Danny answered.

Better get the tape recorder on.

Bernard reached into his briefcase. “Danny, do you mind if I record this conversation? I can assure you that the recording is kept strictly as a private and confidential discussion between us, except in cases where there are serious concerns about harm you might do to yourself or others. The recording is primarily to save me needing to take notes.”

“And it makes it easier to analyse every word I say,” Danny replied.

“Yes.” Bernard laughed. “But only so that–”

“You can help me with my illness.”

Bernard placed the tape recorder on a nearby trolley and held up a cautioning palm. “No one is saying yet that you have an illness.”

“So can I leave then?”

“Once we’ve made an assessment and determined that you are in good health and fully recovered.”

“So how can I convince you of that? I’m really keen to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“Do you feel threatened in any way here, Danny?”

Danny smiled. “If you’re trying to establish that I’m suffering paranoia that is leading me to fear being here, you’re wrong. I merely wish to get back to school and resume my normal activities.”

Sounds reasonable enough, but something isn’t quite right about this child’s nonchalance towards the psychosis he allegedly suffered last night. Mental note: Patient’s symptoms of psychosis appear to have subsided and mood is substantially different from yesterday and perhaps previously. Need to establish mental history of the patient through consultation with parents. Possible long-term psychotic, schizotypal or bipolar disorder.

“So you like being at school then?”

“Well, I’m not sure whether
like
is the appropriate word, but
obligated
yes. Just as I imagine what work is for many people, they may not particularly like it, but they’re obliged to do it.”

“What don’t you like about school?”

Danny shrugged his shoulders, looking relaxed under the microscope. “Nothing in particular.”

“Do you get along well with the other kids at school?”

Danny shrugged again. “Well enough.”

“What are your favourite subjects?”

“Hmm.” Danny pondered the question for a moment. “They’re all about the same, I guess.”

Mental note: Subject displays apathy, a precursor to various personality and mood disorders.

“How about your family? How are your relationships with them?”

“Fine. There’s never been any problems there.”

“Would you mind if I spoke to them as well? I’d really like to meet them.”

Danny smiled again. “No need to pretend you’re genuinely interested, Bernard. Ask them whatever you like. I’m sure you won’t discover any evidence of mental disorder in
my
past.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Danny? You seem to be evading something.”

“Well, I s’pose I haven’t reiterated to you that I have no recollection of anything that happened last night and today I feel fine and in full health.”

“Yes. About–”

“Oh, and that I’ve never had any feelings of persecution, humiliation, isolation, anxiety, depression, delusions or hallucinations.”

Bernard chuckled. “And yet you seem to be defensive about my questions–”

“Only because I’m trying to save you time and get this over with. Oh and before you ask, I’ve never taken any kind of drugs either, nor had any prior medical condition that could be relevant.”

Bernard folded his arms. “So what would you say caused your experiences yesterday?”

“Well, as you know I can’t remember them, but they were probably just the result of shock or concussion or something. Regardless, whatever it was, it’s gone now.” Danny smiled.

“You smile, why?”

“Because you amuse me.”

“Amuse you, why do I amuse you?”

“Because you think I’m crazy. You think I’m seeing demons and hearing their voices.” Danny’s smile grew wider.

“Well you were–”

“You think I’m schizophrenic, or a manic depressive. Maybe I’m a split personality. Or maybe I’m all three. Or maybe I’m none of these at all. Maybe I’m just a normal kid who you’re wasting your time with trying to diagnose.”

There was something about this kid he didn’t like. Something he didn’t like from the start. That smile of his seemed wicked, he was too perceptive, he knew too much. Every avenue he tried, this kid seemed to know how to outwit him. That’s what he didn’t like – this strange fourteen year-old child was outwitting him. Outwitting him with uncanny foresight. And he was harbouring something. Something evil.