Nssm 200 - The Milieu Derivative

  Steep canyon walls trembled in fright at the approaching mass of rushing water galloping behind the lonely, wounded steam engine. Boulders shivered then broke free of their restraints to somersault down the vertical walls onto the track, blocking the line ahead. The only route left was up. Fierce whistles of steam brought the angry juggernaut to a screeching halt and he leapt to the ground to begin the climb. Crumbling pieces of rock impeded his ascent, limited his struggle to rise above the onrushing tidal wave of destruction. Desperation drove him on, hands bleeding at the deep incisions caused by grappling with jagged rocks as he searched for grip. Another few inches of progress, one more step to safety, and then he saw his end approaching. A mountain of water bashed from one side of the dusty canyon to the other as it neared, frothing at the mouth. Increased toil drenched his body with sweat in the frantic dash for escape. He was rising, making sudden and swift progress when the first of the hands grabbed at his sodden clothes; one pair then two, followed by others, all attempting to hold and drag him back into the oncoming storm. Erratic breathing took its toll as he struggled. Now he was choking, slipping back, down …

  “Hush, hush,” he heard her say. “All is good. You are in a safe place tonight.”

  Arms tightened the suffocating hold to subdue his attempt at resistance as he fought against the superior strength. An unequal battle, one he didn’t have the energy to combat.

  “Hush,” said the voice again. “No-one can harm you here, be still and rest.”

  Heartbeat slowly began to settle into rhythm and his mind returned to previous nights, recalling the detailed contours of the familiar shape. He remembered. Maria lay with him each and every night in the struggle to expel the poisons circulating throughout his system, held him in comfort as the storm raged and then cleansed his sweaty skin every morn.

  “There, be still and rest,” repeated the voice.

  Held in her embrace he realised she had become encased in his sweat, and for the first time felt the damp texture of the bath towels underneath the mattress sheet.

  “You’ll be sending me a large laundry bill,” he said.

  “Sizeable.”

  “Has it been like this every night?”

  “Similar, but it is getting better. How do you feel?”

  “Cold, weak,” he said.

  Soft breath brushed the top of his head.

  “Is it the same one, the dream?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  Once more her breath caressed his scalp and her hand stroked the nape of his neck. His head pushed up against her soft breasts in appreciation of the comforting hold.

  “How long will this last?”

  “Days, perhaps weeks,” she said. “Marius cannot be sure. The attacks will become more infrequent over time.”

  “Was it like this for Rosa?”

  “She was fortunate. You injected her with the antidote in good time. It took several hours for Marius to arrive however and by then the virus had taken a hold of your body. We were not sure you would survive.”

  She adjusted her body to the uncertain movement of his limbs, ensuring he would continue to enjoy the soft but sticky pillow of her sweat drenched frame. He understood now why she had disrobed him.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Her lips, strong and reassuring, pecked his head.

  “John suffered with bad dreams,” she said. “He would awake suddenly in the night.”

  “I am not him.”

  “No but there are similarities, you both share some of the same characteristics.”

  “I am not John Tillman.”

  “No, you are not,” she replied after a pause.

  The subtle gliding of her fingertips over his neck halted, and then resumed.

  “Is this why …”

  “No.”

  “Then why …”

  “Must we analyse my reasons?” she asked.

  “No. I wanted to check you were okay with this.”

  “I feel good, very good,” she whispered.

  “If a little soggy,”

  Gentle laughter brought them face to face.

  “Did John ever tell you what was in his dreams?”

  “No, not once,” she said. “He would say everything was okay, to go back to sleep and not worry. A day or so later he would tell me he had lost one …so and so, one of his people. John would wound at the loss, cut deep, though could never bring himself to admit his true emotion.”

  He had fought Tillman as an enemy, killed him as one. Never once had he considered him as anything else, forgotten the man had been human.

  “The strong and silent type eh?”

  “In this respect you and John are alike. Erecting barriers to imprison your demons in the belief this displays inner strength when, in truth, all that you achieve is to allow your demons to ultimately imprison you.”

  He tempered his distaste at the likening to her late husband by trying to determine how much of the profound analysis actually related to him. Perhaps Maria had a point.

  “I lost some people,” he said. “Persuaded them to help me and then led them into a trap. Four died. Would have been five if I hadn’t had the antidote, six without your help,” he said. “I still hear them call to each other, looking for a way out as the net tightened on their positions.”

  Cheek muscles tensed to the imagined scenes, people he knew desperately searching to avoid oblivion.

  “They were far away from my station, too far. I couldn’t get there, couldn’t help.”

  Head falling back into the open palms of his hands, he looked up at the ceiling from the pillow.

  “You shouldn’t have helped me,” he said. “I didn’t deserve to be helped.”

  A finger trailed the outline of his jaw and he looked into her eyes.

  “The decision was not yours to make,” she said quietly.

  And fortunately, it hadn’t been.

  “What will you do next?”

  “I don’t know,” he sighed.

  “Did you succeed in getting the information?”

  “No. They relieved me of it while I was incapacitated by the stun grenade. They took the laptop too. Without either of them I’ve got zilch, back to square one. Four people dead and I’ve nothing to show for it, nothing at all.”

  “You did the best you could.”

  “And it wasn’t good enough.”

  “You must not punish yourself,” she said. “It will not bring them back and no good can therefore come of it.”

  Maria meant well but there was no softening the blow in his tormented mind, no easing of the burden of guilt.

  “In my dream I’m travelling through a steep canyon. The path ahead has been blocked by falling rocks and I’m being chased from behind by a monumental tidal wave. The only way out of it is to climb, but I keep losing my grip and falling back. Except these last few nights I’m not losing my grip I’m being pulled down, by the hands of people with unseen faces. I think it’s them, the people that have helped me. The people I led to their deaths. It made little sense to me before, less so now.”

  “Perhaps you fear the past will not let go and this prevents you from addressing the future.”

  Impressive as the off the cuff assessment sounded he chose not to place too much store in its likely accuracy.

  “I hadn’t realised you’d studied psychology as well.”

  “I studied men,” she quipped, stifling a yawn.

  “You must have barely slept this past week or so.”

  “As a single mother it is not too uncommon in my line of work.”

  “Aren’t you tired?”

  “I am exhausted most days,” she replied. “Not tonight for some reason, despite how it may look. I do not feel the urge to sleep.”

  “I hope St Anthony fully appreciates all this work you’re doing in his name.”

  The subsequent smile revealed the laughter lines around her eyes, something he hadn
’t noticed before, underlining how strangely relaxed their relationship had become.

  “This can’t be healthy, lying swamped in sweat,” he said. “Do you mind if I jump into the shower and freshen up.”

  “Jump if you can. I will change the bed.”

  Soap ran into an eye as he sought to address the difficult task of maintaining balance, blindly fumbling for the half empty shampoo bottle on the thin metal rack. The desperate search proved too much of an ordeal and he stretched an arm to each side of the tiled walls to steady his slow descent to the floor of the cubicle. Reduced to his knees he felt a blob of cold liquid hit the top of his head and then hands started to massage the greasy substance into his hair.

  “Just as well I came,” her voice said unexpectedly and he felt her presence nearby.

  “Thanks.”

  He hadn’t the energy to refuse her help even if he wanted to retain privacy. Not that it mattered. He’d virtually lived naked with her for God knows how long.

  “Are you okay there?”

  “Yeah, just about,” he said.

  The circular motion of her small hands rubbing at his scalp relaxed his mind to the point she could have continued forever and a day. The massaging action gathered pace and he could feel the erect nipples of her swaying bosom brushing against the skin of his back. Embers of desire flickered briefly into life before disappearing again as quickly as they had arrived. Matt sighed in the knowledge he wasn’t remotely capable of maintaining erotic thought.

  “Close your eyes,” she said.

  Streams of soapy water ran down every side of his head as she meticulously rinsed through the sodden strands of his hair to expel the foam.

  “There, you are done.”

  Shaking water from his eyes he felt the shampoo bottle being pressed into his hand, and she eased him aside to drench her long dark tresses under the hot streams. Filling his palms with the gooey orange cream she clasped his hands together before he could reciprocate.

  “I’ll do it,” she said. “Dry off and return to bed.”

  The bath towel around her torso when she finally appeared did little to conceal the statuesque figure underneath, though his admiration lay not in her feminine form but for the woman underneath the skin.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Weak as a kitten,” he replied. “It’s depressing.”

  “Your strength will return, in time. You must be patient.”

  “I’ve been here long enough already.”

  “You wouldn’t be here at all if Marius had had his way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He wanted to take you away to one of their special places, for treatment.”

  “Then why didn’t you let him?”

  Her gaze retreated to the nightdress she’d retrieved from the drawer, falling open so she could check it for length.

  “I don’t know,” she said, softly. “I’ll sleep with the twins so you can rest undisturbed.”

  Unnerved by his ongoing silence her head turned to see he had folded back the cover on her side of the bed.

  “No point disturbing the children,” he said.

  Another night, same old story, depressingly. Shorter this time though judging by the watch. An hour or more since it began, much less time than a week or so ago. He’d lost track of the days and time had become immaterial. It wasn’t so much an open prison as a vacuum he found himself in. Too poorly to leave or do anything close to being described as constructive this period of his life felt like a downward spiral. The best he could do was to be patient and wait for physical improvement. But waiting was an art form he had never properly mastered. He thought about starting a conversation then noticed Maria remained asleep, her left arm and long leg swung protectively over his torso. He couldn’t recall her ever being asleep in his presence. Every movement he made and she was there within a flash, ready to assist without impatience or complaint. Not this time.

  He eased his sticky body from under her embrace and slid out onto the cold tiled floor, heading slowly on all fours to the shower cubicle. Using the handle as a lever to rise he stepped in and caught his trailing foot. One curse later and he was in a muddled heap.

  “Are you okay? I didn’t hear you rise. You should have said something.”

  “I’m fine, lost my balance, that’s all.”

  “Let me help,” she said, entering.

  “I told you. I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine otherwise you would not have fallen.”

  Gentle hands descended on his arm and he shook them away before slumping onto his butt with his back against the wall.

  “Don’t fuss me, Maria. Just turn the bloody shower on and go back to bed.”

  She crouched to examine his angry face with confused and questioning eyes.

  “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. As you can see I’ve never been in such pristine physical condition.”

  Her answer came slowly.

  “It will take time.”

  “That’s what you said last week, and the week before that and the …”

  “It will take time,” she repeated. “Each episode is shorter than the one before and after each the body recovers quicker than the one before. You may not have noticed the difference but I have, and the results of the samples confirm it. Don’t you feel the energy surges becoming ever more frequent?”

  “No I bloody well don’t,” he snapped.

  She stretched out and turned the handle, showering him with a powerful deluge of cold water quickly reverting to hot. Head bowed he sat with the demeanour of a spoiled, sullen infant refused permission to go out and play.

  “A full recovery is the prognosis,” she said. “With each day that passes your heart beats with renewed vigour, muscle definition increases and strength returns.”

  “You seem to have skilfully avoided the awkward subject of my infertility.”

  Shampoo squeezed into one hand ready to be applied and he withdrew his head from reach.

  “I thought you were a man.”

  “I’m not a man. I’m an impostor, a fraud, a physical wreck of a human being. You must be blind not to see it. Go away and leave me alone.”

  The open palm of her other hand appeared and crashed to his jaw.

  “Behave as a spoilt child and I shall wash you as one.”

  Shaken by the impact he ended resistance.

  “If it is children you desire take mine,” she said, massaging the oily substance into his hair.

  A light, irreverent quip but it raised a smile all the same.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re helping me.”

  “I need you fit, healthy and focussed if you are to complete John’s mission.”

  “So the dream analysis was a page from the Maria Costa book of personal motivational techniques was it?”

  “No,” she said, with mild laughter. “I believe there was much to it which is accurate.”

  The gentle massage to his scalp continued, soothing the acid sting from his mood.

  “Why did you give Rosa Cain your only antidote?”

  “She’s a friend.”

  “You would do this for any friend?”

  “I owe Rosa my life, more times than I can count. Without her I’d have been dead a long time ago.”

  “Strange.”

  “What is strange?”

  “She said much the same about you. That you had rescued her on many occasions before, against overwhelming odds and without hesitation.”

  “I was one life-saving attempt behind her.”

  Maria smiled at the humility of the response.

  “She speaks well of you, in glowing terms. Rosa told me you are different from other men she has met.”

  “Rosa has a tendency to exaggerate.”

  The application of the shampoo seemed to be taking longer than normal. Perhaps even minutes had lost their value. The rinsing of the suds began. Deciding against shutting his eyes he glanced up to see her l
ooking down at him and he suddenly realised they were face to face. She had always been careful to avoid this before. This woman had stood by him while others had ran away, was nursing him back to health against all logic and reason. Averting eye contact his line of sight dropped to her soft and round bosom, the nipples erect as though aroused by their proximity, the motion of her arms causing her breasts to sway from side to side. The movement stopped abruptly as the hands massaging his hair fell to the scar tissue of his torso and her fingers began to run gently along their length. The energy surge of which she spoke began to manifest itself as he looked up at her face and drew a gaze of seeming fascination.

  “I have finished,” she said.

  Instinctively, his hand reached up to cup a breast and his thumb started to lightly caress the nipple. Her back arched and then straightened as his mouth circled the erect nipple, feeling her body tremble at the touch of his lips. She responded by slipping her hands to the back of his head to pull him towards her and force a breast against his mouth as the sharp urges of arousal gathered in pace.

  Matt slipped a free hand underneath her left thigh, pressing lightly in the direction he wanted her to move. Her knee lifted raising the leg just enough to enable it to skim the flesh of his thighs so she could sit astride his outstretched legs, allowing him to gorge on each breast in turn. Maria moaned with barely contained excitement as his lips moved between the two and the increasing desperation to feel her touch surround him rose. Without warning her hands relaxed their hold on his head and her fingers intertwined with his hair and gripped tightly to pull his head back hard to the wet tiled wall. He recognised he’d overstepped the line.

  “In your own words this is wrong,” she gasped.

  “Yes,” he panted, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again”

  She relaxed the hold on his hair and he looked up to avoid eye contact, shower water pelting his face like hot rain.

  “It is not right.”

  “I know. I said I was sorry.”

  She remained astride while he continued to shake his head in apology, praying the visible sign of his arousal would come to recognise the error of its way and retreat. A second later he plucked up the courage to resume eye contact.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, to show he meant it.

  He thanked the heavens she possessed the mature restraint all women seem to possess in matters of the flesh. He believed this even as she resumed the delicate touch to his scar tissue. Believed it right up to the point she nudged her frame a little further forward along his legs, then lowered her hips and took him in from the rain.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Reunions