TLO Chapter 22

 Chapter 22

Trying to leave the bed unnoticed was like playing Mikado for the World League. Lars considered my body as his teddy bear and he was always spooning me with a gorilla grip. We did it twice, therefore he considered he had regained every right of ownership over me. 

I still didn’t understand why I had done it. I had liked it the second time, true but it had been a very rushed (lousy) decision. I wanted to get rid of him and I was again in bed with him? Well, kitchen and bathroom but we definitely were in bed now, sleeping together. 

I needed to spend all my money on shrinks. 

“Where are you going?” He asked me half asleep when my foot tangled itself with his calf. Bad move; lost my turn at mikado. 

“Toilet and kitchen. I need my afternoon pills for the shoulder. Or are they tampered too?” 

“No, they are fine. It was just a few doses but you seem to be recovering very well, runt.” 

I pushed him away but he caught me easily. “Was it too much for you? We don’t have to repeat it if you didn’t like it.” 

“It was… strange but fine.” 

“You don’t want to do it again,” he affirmed and he was right. The whole thing was fine but it wasn’t worth the effort. It had been like one of those fancy, expensive Belgian chocolate boxes you buy thinking it’s the best and then, the chocolate is too fatty and all the chocolates taste the same. You finish the box and keep it because it’s nice and you can store things inside. 

But you will never buy it again. 

“I also don’t like it but you were so terrified that you couldn’t do anything that I looked for a way to take your mind elsewhere.” 

“I’d rather stay where I stand,” I confessed and he kissed me tenderly. “We were fine before.” 

“We are fine now, aren’t we?” 

“Yes, maybe. I don’t know.” 

“Eric you’re very important to me. I always take good care of you, even if we’re apart. Come with me and let me handle everything. We’ll find a way for you to be happy with me. You were happy and content with your life before all this happened. Are you happy right now?” 

“I’m busy right now.” I told him and that’s the truth; I work like an animal and go to college in the afternoon-night. I’m dead on my feet and the most exciting thing in the past weeks was to get a frozen cherry cake at Lidl’s (reduced price). “I’m doing something on my own. I don’t feel like a useless bum.” 

“I never thought you were useless. Your books are very good but you certainly have a shortage in the “luck department”.” 

Lars somehow knew about my pink elephant. He had seen it at work.  

“It would be a pity if you’d stop writing, Eric. You’re not bestseller material but maybe one day, you’ll be known. Nobody can deny that you wrote all your books by yourself. A bum wouldn’t do that.” 

“What if I never make it?” I asked him the looping question always hammering my brain. “What if I’m a failure? As a lawyer I could make a living. I’m not like you.”

“Be glad for that,” he told me softly. “What if I have five papers as first author published in Nature? They don’t make me happy or keep me company. I’m not going to bed all my money or take it to the grave. The corals it might save won’t send me a postcard.” 

I was speechless. 

“You, on the other hand, give me life,” he added softly. “These months without you weren’t easy for me but I endured them because I needed to do what I did.” 

At that point I didn’t want to know what he had been doing. It isn’t that I didn’t care; I just wanted to keep my sanity. Lars’ wars were his alone. 

“I really need to go,” I said embarrassed and disentangled myself from his loosened hold. He only smiled back at me softly and maybe he understood the reason behind my sudden shyness; I couldn’t handle compliments or love declarations. For me a “let’s fuck” was enough. Drugs or not, it would take me months to start a relationship with anyone new. Somehow I loved him and couldn’t look at other people. He dumped me and I didn’t download “Grindr” like any sensible gay would do. I would kill myself before stepping inside a “gay bar” or sign up to a dating website. I just couldn’t handle the stress of being “on parade” to get another boyfriend or girlfriend. 

Lars should have known that but alas, he never understood how crazy I was. 

I took his pyjama tops (we were in the master bedroom; his for the centuries to come) and somehow found my own pyjama trousers, hidden under some pillows in the floor. I also stole his robe because mine was hung where it should be. The thing was way too big for me and I was almost dragging it behind me. 

“You’re the antithesis of sexy,” he smirked and got a pillow thrown at his face. 

“Feel free to cross the door in the opposite direction,” I growled and he chuckled. 

The cold bathroom tiles were like a balm for the mounting headache. I wondered how could I’ve done it with him. One minute I wanted to kill him and the next I was kissing and drooling over him? Maybe heroine addicts feel that way each time they see the needle. 

I walked the stairs down and went to the kitchen to drown my sorrows in a cup of tea. 

I couldn’t drink the tea because of the big knot in my throat. I just sat in front of the cup and held my head with my hands tightly. 

A soft knock on the back door made me almost jump to the ceiling. Maybe it was a lost tourist or Lars’ little army checking if the boss was still alright. I went to open the door. 

“Last time I dated you, you put some effort into it. It’s Sunday night.” 

“Abdullah!” I yelped but then I forced myself to be quiet. “Look, it isn’t a good time now.” 

“Nonsense. Get dressed and we go out… or try it here.” 

Doesn’t he have a drugs ring to run? I don’t think he sells in the streets any longer but shouldn’t he be checking on his dealers? 

“I can’t go out now. I… have to study.” 

He pushed me aside and entered in my kitchen, frowning a bit at the still abandoned dishes from brunch, some broken pieces on the floor… and he counted up to two sets of dishes and cups (or I was a true pig). 

“Company?” He growled. “Do you have somebody here?” 

“Yes and we already know it isn’t working between us.” Lamest of the lame phrases ever uttered. Not even a dork buys it. 

“When did you get a boyfriend? You’re never out.” 

Can’t I get a girlfriend? I hate that people assume I like only boys. 

“I go out too.” 

“No, you don’t. In two years you went…. Zero times out.” 

“I had to look after Eusebio and I could have changed.” Going out? Well, Lars takes me to places like Covent Garden, fancy restaurants, premieres, auctions, black-tie parties, aquariums, zoos, etc, therefore, I do go out (just not on my own). “Besides, it’s Sunday and I have to work tomorrow.” 

“I bet you were never late to work. How old are you? Forty?” Abdullah sauntered. 

“My hundred years old boss doesn’t take tardiness lightly. Look Abdullah, yes, I’m with someone and you could get in trouble if he sees you. Please, go home.” That was clear enough for anyone walking upon this earth. 

“Are you again with that motherfucker?” Abdullah grabbed me by the shoulders with some strength, not enough to hurt but enough to be noticed… or make me wince.

“Believe me Mr. El Amrani, I never harboured any sexual thoughts about my mother,” Lars grunted from the corridor darkness and I felt like dying. I pushed Abdullah away from me but his hands remained just where they were; a “compromising” position (in Lars’ eyes). 

I stood between of two fighting bulls glaring at each other and I didn’t like it a bit. Those two were going to collide and physics laws would say that I was going to endure most of the impact. 

“What is this man doing here, Eric?” That suave, polite voice that carried within the worst of everything. That moment when Lars would allow you to “explain yourself” or lets better say, dig your own grave and apologise for staining the shovel. 

“He’s just leaving,” I gulped nervously and shook my shoulders hoping Abdullah would get the hint and release me. Lars smelled my fear and that automatically made me guilty of something. 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

We were a second away from midnight. 

“Lars, this isn’t what you think.” That’s the worst thing you can tell to a raging bull. He knows it’s his divine right to charge and you’re standing there, preaching about how idiotic he is. 

“I only see an intruder with a police record longer than the Bible. Come over here, Eric.” 

I swear I did try to obey him but Abdullah put then his arm around my chest and pulled me against his body. Lars’ eyes glinted for a millisecond and I trembled. Maybe the large kitchen table would stop him for a second and Abdullah could escape. 

“He ain’t your slave,” Abdullah growled and his arm loosened its grip over me to turn into something protective. “He doesn’t need you at all.” 

“But it seems he needs you for protection, isn’t it?” Lars circled the table and he was quite close to us. “What is exactly your plan, Mr. El Amrani? Drag him to the gutter with you? Turn him into your bitch? That might turn out quite expensive for you. No, you’ll sell him to the highest bidder.” 

If Lars was swearing, using foul language, we both were in deep trouble. He still blamed Abdullah for the shot no matter how many times I had told him that was nonsense. I disentangled myself from Abdullah’s hold and closed the three steps that separated me from Lars. 

His blow was so swift and brutal that not even a well seasoned street fighter like Abdullah was, saw it coming. I only realised what had happened when my right hand collided with the floor as I fell. Then, my shoulder hit the wall and I yelped in pain. I tried to stand up using the hand but the shot of pain coming through the length of my arm, made me fall flat on the floor again. I sat with my back against the wall and contemplated aghast how my right wrist seemed to be broken just from a short fall.

Abdullah didn’t waste his time in philosophical digressions (like me) and lunged at Lars, head on like a bull. Both of them collided against the porcelain sink -Lars crushed against the porcelain with Abdullah’s body- but it didn’t stop them from punching each other. 

Lars was much taller than Abdullah and his fighting skills  were much better than his. Abdullah’s fist was able to break Lars’ lip but his success didn’t last long as the counterattack was fast and brutal. One single punch to the solar plexus made Abdullah fall to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut all at once. 

As Abdullah grasped for air and I gaped at him, Lars grabbed my hair and pulled me up. I struggled against his hold but he smashed me against the wall, forcing me to remain still if I didn’t want to be in much more pain. “Lars, stop,” I pleaded in a whisper and for a second he seemed to relax his fighting spirit. 

“Let him go,” Abdullah had a gun pointed at us and I just froze at its sight. He had more or less recovered his normal breathing and stood up, on slightly bobbly feet. 

Lars released me and I almost fell back to the tiled floor. My weakness distracted Abdullah for just one second and he looked at me. 

That’s all what Lars needed to snatch the gun from my friend’s hands and shoot at him, point blank in the stomach. 

My muffled yelp was cut short because Lars grabbed me again by the arm and shook me like a ragged doll to keep me silent. I heard the front door jared open and heavy footsteps banging in the house. 

Abdullah was still alive, clutching his stomach with his hands, trying to stop the bleeding. I tried to help him but Lars held me in a firm grip. “Don’t move,” he hissed in my ear. 

Sven, Sabrina and three other bodyguards I didn’t know burst into the kitchen and Sabrina stood next to Abdullah. For the first time in my life, she seemed to be insecure and clueless about the situation. For a split second, she gaped at the writhing man but walked towards him while the men surrounded us, worried that Lars may have broken a fingernail. 

“Ah, Miss Engelbert. Glad you could join us. This whole mess started with your incompetence. Didn’t you think we could trace the money back to you?” Lars said casually and released me.

Sabrina kneeled down next to Abdullah’s side and got out something like one of those automatic pre-dosed syringes used for cow vaccinations but much smaller than those. 

I did try to run and push her away before she’d do more harm but the viper was faster; she injected Abdullah on the neck before I could do anything but to kneel down and see him curl over himself as if he were subjected to an agonising pain. He writhed on the floor and I could do nothing. 

“Kill her,” Lars ordered Sven laconically but before he could carry out the order Sabrina grabbed me by the neck and used me as her shield. The pistol needle was on my neck and I knew that I had to be very still if I wanted to survive it. 

“Really?” Lars seemed to be unshaken. Considering he was furious with me, I should be glad he wasn’t helping her. Abdullah still writhed on the floor as he bled, but his moves were slowing down. “I credited you with more finesse.” 

“You wouldn’t risk a twenty-million specimen,” she hissed in my ear. “Nor the millions you could make out of him.” 

“That’s not enough for you to make a deal with me. Eric always was more of a personal project for me,” Lars smirked. “My patience with your employers is at an end. You’ve spied on me long enough.”

Did the apes even put down their weapons because I was in the line of fire? No, not at all. The other two (still lurking in the corridor to the kitchen) had the deference of pointing their laser aims to her head, a few inches above my own head. Reassuring, isn’t it? 

Sabrina’s needle was almost breaking my neck’s skin and I didn’t dare to breath, afraid any movement would kill me. 

“There’s no way out for you, Ms. Engelbert.” 

She pressed the thing against my flesh and I hissed. “He’ll be dead too.” 

“Before you kill us all, Ms. Engelbert,”  Lars could be ironic  smirk even in the worst-kind scenarios. “Satisfy my curiosity. Did you really base your plan on a second rate street dealer? At least it was cheap.” 

I gaped at Lars. 

“Taking Eric to your superiors without our research is useless. Whichever papers my late father may have given you, they are useless.” 

Sabrina seemed to hesitate a bit. 

“He’s not worth twenty millions anymore,” Lars said with that looped smile of his. “Not even two.” 

“I destroyed all my notes regarding his creation years ago. You’ve seen how many medical problems his kind carry. He’s the only survivor of his litter.

“That disaster taught me to be less ambitious and focus on improving just small details… in less complex organisms like viruses, bacterias, some kinds of sponges and clams.

“The best you could get out of Eric is to clone him… but your people don’t have the technology to do it. You don’t even have the technology to protect yourselves if we ever put to test some of the organisms we have developed to keep inferior vermin in check, should the need arise.”

At that point I wondered if I was awake at all. Maybe I could understand half of what Lars was so casually saying, but that half revolved my stomach. I didn’t know the man in front of me. 

“Without my notes, the Chinese won’t pay for him. Your kind of vermin won’t pay for anything you might have on me because you can’t replicate it and probably you’d be dead before you present the first vial. Let him go and we will discuss your situation.” 

I didn’t feel the needle going through my neck’s skin. Not for a second or two. Then I fell to the floor, hurdled like ball as I felt being burned by thousands of suns. 

Every fibre of my being felt as if it were about to explode due to a hot, searing pain. Curling over myself was a good way to keep the pain contained though it didn’t lower its intensity. The pain was going through me in pulsating waves and up to breathing hurt like hell. 

I heard a faint shot behind me but I didn’t care. The pain was so intense that I couldn’t (or didn’t want to) move. Every little irregularity in the floor stabbed me. My skin felt as if it would stretch by itself to the point of breaking but my eyes told me that everything was still in place. Untouched and unharmed.

My cries pierced the kitchen as Lars tried to disentangle the shaking ball that I had turned to and move me over my side, forcing me to adopt a safe position. To sensation of being internally burned, my blood felt as if it were filled with thousands of air bubbles that bounced back and forth. 

“What you’re feeling is called neuropathic pain, Eric. It isn’t real,” Lars told me calmly. “You have to block it.” 

Yoga? He wanted me to do fucking yoga? 

“Where are your pills? The ones for the shoulder pain,” he asked me. 

“He… here.” I heard some people rummaging my kitchen dishes until one of them shouted something in Swedish and gave something to Lars. 

“It won’t be enough.” Lars said and all I could see was a small line of blood running across the white floor. Mine? Abdullah’s? Sabrina’s? I don’t know. 

“Search that man. Maybe he has something.” I heard Lars order Sven and he dashed to rob from a body. 

“What’s this?” I could ask as the pain hit me in waves. 

“This is a drug designed for interrogations. In smaller doses it’s quite successful for making the subject speak without causing any physical damage.” 

“But I’m afraid that the dose you took was too large. We must diminish the pain before you go into cardiac arrest or your nervous system is permanently damaged.” 

“Tramadol!” I heard one of the men yelling and at that point the pain seemed to have doubled and I was writhing, bent over myself, all my muscles locked in an endless cramp.

Lars shook his head and began to speak in Swedish over his phone. I tried to turn around but he firmly held me in place. By that time, I knew Abdullah was dead. I just felt it in my bones. 

“You killed him,” I whimpered but Lars ignored me. He put three pills in my mouth and I tried to spit them but he firmly kept my jaw closed with his hand. It was suffocating me so I swallowed the pills, hoping he would leave me alone. 

“It’s just your own medication. With some luck it might help to turn down the pain,” he hissed in my ear. 

“Get me to a doctor.” 

“You’ll see one soon.” 

“Just give me a painkiller.” 

“Nothing like that will work for you now. Maybe if we can sedate you when we reach the plane…” 

Plane? Moving me? The idea sounded ludicrous. Every little move was a torment for me. “Take me to the hospital,” I said but he didn’t care at all.

Lars people just lifted me as if I were a bundle and dropped me in the backseat of a car parked right at the entrance. Sven had the deference of putting his hand on my mouth so my pain shrieks wouldn’t disturb the neighbours. I must have passed away because the next I remember was being carried through the small ladder of an aircraft and be dumped on a seat and get a blanket thrown over me. 

“We’ll try to keep you warm,” Sven said. “Heat helps with cramps.” 

The electric blanket didn’t help much but at least it was giving me a sense of comfort that no one else provided me. I could hear faintly Lars’ voice speaking over the phone while the two men dashed out of the plane. 

Sven sat next to me and pulled the cover closer to my body. “I know it hurts,” he said sympathetically. “Mr. Berggren is talking to your doctor. You’ll see him in a couple of hours.” 

“Hospital.” 

“We can’t take you to a hospital. The doctors wouldn’t know what to do. They know nothing about this thing.” 

“Swallow this.” The order was so unexpected that even Sven jumped when he heard Lars’ dead tone. 

The hell I was going to eat those three green balls standing on a white, blue rimmed dish. Sven, on the other hand, dashed away, leaving empty the spot next to me free for Lars. 

He didn’t show any emotions even if I was writhing in pain. “It’s wasabi, don’t chew it, just swallow it. Wasabi targets the TRP-A1 protein. We have nothing else at hand.” 

I blinked a few times. Sushi? I would have been rolling in pain had not any kind of movement caused such agony and he wanted me to eat sushi? 

“It has shown promising results in mice.” 

Sure! Mice inject themselves with whatever was in that syringe just for fun and then, loot a Japanese restaurant. 

“Eric, don’t be dense. It’s your best option till we reach Uppsala.” 

 “Not going to your fucking hospital!” 

“No, to our research institute,” he shrugged and took my left hand in a firm grip making me almost howl at the contact. His hand felt as if it were on fire. 

“My touch makes you feel in pain?” He asked with curiosity. “Is it a painful sensation or does it feel like an itch? A burning itch?” 

Do you really need to perform a test right now? Should I fill in some questionnaires? Why don’t you better shoot yourself with this thing and find it out? My glare posed those questions but Lars wanted his answers… right after he forcefully opened my mouth and slid the infernal green balls into my throat. Better swallow them fast and don’t bite them if I don’t want to be in much more pain.

At least he handed me a glass of water when my gauging reflex stopped. 

 The medical profession can be glad that Lars never went to med school; patients are not ready for him; insurance companies wouldn’t insure any doctors after him. 

“Burning itch,” I growled finally. 

“It’s your lucky day then. It’s not the stronger kind. You might well survive it.” He seemed to be relieved. “I’ll set an IV line and the team in London will pick it up from there.” 

“Do you even have any idea of what you’re doing?” 

“Much more than you, of course.” He barked at me dryly. “Khan is working with the team who developed this to find a specific solution for your… you.” 

“Your what? Why don’t you say it, Lars?” Have I ever mentioned before my finely tuned sense of opportunity? I pick a fight with him the moment I need him the most. But once you start, you roll with the tide till the end crash.

“The cat is out of the bag, say it.” I defied him. “Concerned you might lose your investment? Damaged goods?” 

“I don’t know why I worry about you when you certainly are on the way to recovery if you can be so feisty,” he smirked and Lord, I swear that I’d have killed him right there if I could move. 

“Be glad that Miss Engelbert was so incompetent. It could have turned out much worse for you.” 

“Incompetent?” I howled back. “You’re the idiot who creates this shit and forgets all about an antidote!” I could feel the general cringe of all his employees (up to the pilots in the cabin) at my words. I guess nobody, not even his father called Lars “idiot”. Maybe his grandfather did but I can’t be sure. Maybe said staff crammed themselves inside the toilet because the room had turned into a black hole so empty and cold as it had become. 

“It wasn’t required in the contract, Eric.” He punctuated every word. “Nothing of this would have happened if you’d have honest since the beginning.” 

“You speak about honesty?” Pain? What pain? My adrenaline levels were so high that an elephant could have sat on top of me and I wouldn’t have noticed it. My rage was endless. “You killed two people and… made me in a lab and speak about honesty? You’re not a psychopath because they have more morals than you do!” 

“Shut up and let me work.” He rose to his full 6” 4 feet and my body almost curled into a ball. That cold, aloof fury of his was lethal. I had just witnessed it and it was back and this time, it was really aimed at me. 

“We’ll do our best in Uppsala. If we fail, we’ll consider another kind of solution, Eric. Is that clear enough for you?” 

Joko’s brother’s image flashed through my eyes and I gulped. To him, I was no more than one of his monkeys, maybe one he favoured over others but at that moment, I knew he didn’t consider me as a fellow human. 

Maybe a feisty pet, like a noisy French bullterrier or a cat but nothing else. Probably I was like a hamster in front of his eyes. 

“I’ve always treated you well and kept you en perfect conditions. Don’t make me change that, Eric.” 

“You have no right.” 

He didn’t bother to answer me; to him my words were nothing but the remains of a tantrum. He was busy, looking for a vein in my arm and I just flinched when the needle pierced the skin. That was all what we said to each other in a long time. 

I barely noticed when the plane touched down in London. I did notice when Dr. Khan touched my hand and it felt as if it were on fire. He quickly apologised but I couldn’t care less. There was another doctor with him and he wanted my consent to “perform a heavy sedation of your body” and of course, “it’d reduce the pain significantly”. 

“NO.” 

Khan tried to reason with me, telling me it’d feel like a pinch and the pain would be gone while they cleared the substance off from my system. 

“No way.”  I had had enough of doctors. 

“We’ll try with morphine then,” the anaesthetist witch-doctor suggested. “It won’t be as effective as the other solution but if you prefer so…” 

Typical of them; choose your own poison. 

“Leave me alone. I reject your treatment.” That’s clear for any doctor or his/her insurance company. If you don’t sign, they can’t perform their magic on you. 

“I wouldn’t endorse your decision,” Khan started but I couldn’t hear any more of his pro-treatment tirade because Lars took one of the pre-charged syringes from the other doctor and stuck it into the IV line ending all debate.