Mystery of the Night

“Breakfast! Come on Owen, up and greet the day!” Becky’s brisk voice cut through Owen’s slumber. He yawned and sat up, squinting in the early morning light. Becky stood at his bedside, already fully clothed, her green head gleaming in the sunlight that streamed through the window. Owen was accustomed to early mornings, ever since Becky had kindly taken him into her home. It had been arduous, but he had told her the main points on how he was raped and her anxiety on his behalf was clear. He should appreciate her compassion all the more, he supposed, because she needed to devote her attention to her current project. A miracle panacea, or an attempt to play God? He could almost hear criticisms and anathemas uttered against it, despite the fact that here she was - the first test subject and perfectly fine. He arose and began to prepare himself, searching for his slippers and then remembering they were under the large, oak bed. This bedroom was very much better appointed than the accommodation he had once shared with Trevor. This morning, Becky served out a traditional breakfast, complete with bacon. “My grandmother would turn in her grave if she could see me serving bacon,” she confided, with a wink, “but I’ve broken with more than one tradition.”

As they strode down the hospital corridors, there were wide-eyed glances and stares from the other staff at Becky’s green head, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Once again, Owen admired her fortitude. He found any unwelcome attention disconcerting. He did not feel comfortable when the ladies of the housekeeping, nursing and medical staff cast him amorous looks or attempted to flirt with him. He was sure they never meant any harm by it, but a few could be too forward. To think that it had once been Kitty who would tell them to let him be…! He shuddered. They paid Kitty a visit in her special quarters in the mental health wing. The law still did not consider her to be capable of rape, but for abduction, not to mention drugging the coffee, she could be detained under the Mental Health Act. She was quite calm today and sat wrapping her arms about herself. Owen could not bring himself to look at her and instead, studied his shoes intently. “You’re looking rosy and blooming today, Kitty,” commented Becky, brightly.

“You’re looking, um, green, Becky” said Kitty brushing her hair away from her face. “I know I’ve said this already and it doesn’t make amends, but I’m sorry for everything Owen,” she called after them as they left.

Next, they proceeded to the canker ward. Owen remained respectfully silent as Becky had a heartfelt exchange with a fatally ill patient, who lay back on the bed, her face haggard and drawn. “The procedure has been approved by the hospital governors,” said Becky, clasping the patient’s hand in both of hers. “A full head graft most likely has the potency to save you, Lindsay; attempting anything less would certainly be ineffective.”

“I have my daughter to take care of,” said Lindsay, her voice weak and tremulous. “I must take the treatment. You are hale and hearty and I do not mind the strange appearance when my daughter has no one, but me.”

“Then to the lab it is!” said Becky, taking Owen by the hand and leading the way.

Owen thought the head graft idea should be considered a boon in a life or death situation, but he wondered at Becky’s speculations about possible immortality. That was surely what she meant by forcing the aging process into retreat? How many would choose immortality on those terms? He abandoned his reverie once they reached the lab. There were a number of these strange, green tissue samples here, all growing in special tanks. He was aware of Becky’s excitement and trepidation and knew that he must provide the right support. “There should be no further need to destroy organs because of a canker, now that new tissue can be supplied to combat the disease,” Becky began, as though she were addressing the governors once again. Owen smiled and nodded. He thought the idea sound, for surely the less invasive the treatment, the better it was? And the less likely it was to have lethal consequences, the better too. There were those that would discount his opinion, given that he had had no surgical training, but Kitty had always told him that his opinions still mattered… he groaned inwardly. It was so gut wrenchingly painful to dwell on her. Now all the happy memories were tainted by her violation of him. The loss of her friendship and the revelation of her mania were a graver blow than the failure of his relationship with Trevor. Trevor had fulfilled his physical needs. It had been a passionate energy release, a real roller coaster ride of a relationship to begin with, but the man was really a self-centred fool, who could not support him when he was vulnerable…

“Owen?” Becky’s voice brought him to alertness again. She was giving him a quizzical look. He realised that he had been letting his mind wander and hastily focused his gaze on the lime green visage in front of him. Becky continued; “The key was to meld the tissue with human flesh. This has been achieved,” she touched her green cheek to emphasise the point, “now the procedure is simple and without risk. Further improvements can be made. I am conducting a series of experiments in stimulating the growth of different samples.”

“You can improve them?” Owen blurted out.

“With good luck, my dear, yes,” said Becky, touching his hand for reassurance. “There are great issues at stake. This is a time of upheaval. Society has had to reform… the loss of so many of our men folk and all these surplus women - ” she grimaced. “Since things have to change, this is the time to change our nation for the better.” Her voice was trembling slightly as her emotions welled up inside her. Owen gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Whatever private reservations he had about her aspirations he could lay aside. At that moment, was touched him most was her need for his support.