Two weeks later...
I lie across my couch with my mobile phone in one hand and the television remote in the other when there is a knock on the front door. I stay where I am as my father moves from the kitchen and through the hall towards the door. I have a feeling I know who it is before he answers and the voice I hear greeting my father confirms my hunch – Martin.
‘’Good afternoon,’’ he says chirpily, as energetic as ever.
‘’Howya Martin, come on in,’’ responds my father, ‘’Alice is just in the front room.’’
As my father returns to the kitchen, Martin pops his head into the sitting room and says hello. I smile at him and after a few moments of chatting, he joins my father in the kitchen. I hear my father put the kettle on for tea and then I return my attention to the television in front of me.
I flick from channel to channel, nothing interests me. I catch short snippets of programmes as I switch between channels; a nature programme with two orang-utans getting rather feisty with each other in a tree, a football match between two teams I don’t recognise and a programme in which celebrities are taken to a jungle on the opposite side of the world and basically humiliated in the name of charity and publicity.
I leave this on momentarily, watching the group of washed-up celebrities sitting around a dying fire in the middle of the Australian jungle. They sit on logs and are fantasising about what foods they will eat first when they reach the five star hotels that await them once they’re finished.
A tall and slender young blonde haired woman whom I recognise from an English soap opera – whose name I struggle to recall – explains how she will head straight to the bath and feast on chocolate coated strawberries as she soaks in the bubbling soapy hot water of a Jacuzzi.
A member of an old Irish boy band scolds her playfully, and explains that the first thing he will do when he gets back to normality is spend the day with his wife and young son. I smile at this thought. It is nice to think that not all celebrities are like the media portrays them. A lot of them are quite normal in fact, genuine.
Nevertheless, despite how I used to be rather fond of this programme, it stirs unwanted memories in my mind, ones that I want so desperately to forget. The think they have it tough, they couldn’t begin to imagine the difficulties they could be facing. They have it easy. I switch it over to another channel, the news is on. A woman is speaking about how a recent flood did damage to the playschool her daughter attends and the town council are refusing to help fund the repairs. I listen to the woman’s angry rants for a while, but find myself zoning out quite quickly.
It has been just over two weeks since we flew in from France and since then, my life has been pretty hectic. Martin has helped my father, Aaron and me through it greatly, which we owe him big time for.
He explained to my father what happened to us, and has been working alongside him constantly since we returned to expose the leaders behind this project – even if it means imprisonment for himself in the end. They have been gathering as much information as they can and plan on bringing the people behind this down as soon as they go public with their apparent cure.
Meanwhile I have been bombarded with texts, phone-calls and Facebook notifications from my peers questioning me about where I have been this whole time and that they are happy I have returned home safely. I am unsure exactly how they all know, but I guess word spreads fast. As instructed by Aaron, Martin and my father, I ignore their questions for now. Instead of explaining what happened, I thank them for their concern and explain that I have no time to talk and quickly kill the conversations.
Aaron has been over a lot despite how he lives over two and a half hours away from me and despite how he has a family of his own to catch up with. He gets the train to my house most mornings and stays with me for the whole day. My father seems to like him – probably due to Martin’s words of praise for him – however he is still reluctant to allow him to stay here overnight, even in a separate bedroom as both of us have suggested on numerous occasions.
My phone vibrates in my hand as I think about this, and I smile when a message from Aaron pops up on the screen. He explains to me that he’ll be here in a few minutes and he signs off with a line of X’s as usual. I smile to myself and shove my phone into my pocket.
I remain on the couch awaiting his arrival. I am dressed in a pink set of pyjamas and a pair of slippers that have been made to look like giant monster feet, with brown fur and comically large, pointy toenails. My hair is tied up in a lazy bun to keep it out of my face. Normally the thought of a boy coming to my house whilst I look like this would make me lose my mind, especially considering how much I like Aaron. However for some reason, I am completely comfortable with him seeing me like this, he has seen me look a lot worse after all!
When he knocks on the door, I welcome him with a quick peck on the cheek and invite him inside. Although the clothes he wears are less revealing than those we were given on the island, I still remember what he looks like beneath his casual hoody and grey sweatpants. On his back is a red bag which contains his laptop, which we need as my computer is far too outdated to take the USB Martin gave us.
‘’Come on in, dad and Martin are in the kitchen,’’ I explain and I lead the way towards them.
Despite how many times I have told him that he has my father’s approval, Aaron is still cautious around him, and follows behind warily. When we enter the kitchen, he is greeted warmly by them.
‘’Hello Aaron,’’ smiles Martin.
My father nods his head to greet him, ‘’would you like a cup of tea?’’
‘’Hi Marty. Oh no thanks Mr Embleton, I’m grand,’’ he replies politely.
‘’For the last time Aaron, call me Nathan,’’ laughs my father.
‘’Sorry, Nathan,’’ corrects Aaron, sounding embarrassed.
After a few minutes of small talk, I take Aaron’s hand and lead him back through the hall towards the stairs. As we pass the sitting room however, I hear a sentence from the news that catches my attention. I pause momentarily and listen carefully.
‘’Dad, Martin! Get in here!’’ I yell and take a seat with Aaron in front of the television.
On the screen before us is a clip from what seems to be a press conference. Standing at a podium is a rather slick looking man in a suit, although his face looks familiar I cannot place who he is. On either side of him stand two men dressed in lab-coats. My father and Martin enter the room and stand watching the television. On the top of the screen, the words ‘Cancer Cure?’ are written.
The man steps up to the podium, and a blue translucent bar appears on the bottom of the screen which displays this man’s name and occupation. It is when I read it that I recognise where I know him from, ‘’Marcus Haddlington – Owner of worldwide Haddlington Hotel chain’’.
‘’He’s the billionaire that funded it,’’ whispers Aaron quietly as he releases it too.
‘’That bastard,’’ mutters my father furiously, staring at the television.
‘’Good evening ladies and gentlemen,’’ begins Marcus, ‘’you are all here today because history has been made. I, along with a team of hard-working, dedicated and persistent scientists are confident that we have discovered a universal cure for cancer.’’
As the man says this, the room erupts into inquisitive questions as everyone wants to know everything about this acclaimed cure. None of the questions are audible, because everyone in the room just seems to be screaming their own queries on the subject. The man raises his hands and after a few moments, the room quietens.
‘’I am going to hand you over to one of my colleagues who will explain in layman terms everything you need to know about the cure, so please remain quiet and keep the questions until the end.’’
I do not recognise the scientist that takes Marcus’ position at the podium. He speaks slowly, taking regular pauses in his speech to allow the information to sink in. As he talks, the second scientist controls the presentation which is projected onto the wall behind him. As the first speaks, the second brings up pictures of enzymes attacking the cancerous cells and charts highlighting the production of Exo-C in the body.
My father watches angrily, I can tell he wants to pick up the nearest object to him – which happens to be a large purple vase – and toss it at the television, but for his own educational purposes, he does not. When the scientist finally finishes speaking, and Marcus assumes his place at the podium, his fists are clenched with anger.
‘’We have less time than we thought,’’ exclaims Martin, ‘’we’re still not done collecting information to bring them down.’’
‘’We’re ready,’’ contradicts my father, ‘’after today, we’ll be ready.’’
‘’How is the candidate list coming on?’’ questions Martin.
‘’Nearly done,’’ I explain.
‘’We’re going to finish it now,’’ adds Aaron.
We then leave my father and Martin in the sitting room watching television as we head upstairs to my bedroom. I sink into the large blue beanbag tossed in the corner of my room whilst he takes a seat at my desk and opens his laptop.
I hand him the USB stick and he plugs it into the side of his laptop that is caked in stickers – ones which I examine carefully each time he has taken his small personal computer out of its orange case. On the back is a red circle with the letter ‘b’ inside from a pair of rather expensive headphones Aaron’s uncle sent him from America. Another is an orange and white sticker advertising a writing website Aaron writes short stories on. There are also numerous others however when the file pops up containing the information we need, my attention quickly alters to that.
‘’Where were we yesterday?’’ questions Aaron as he pulls out the small copybook we have be transferring this information into and tosses it to me.
I call out the names of the teenagers on the most recent page and he nods.
‘’Ah yes, we just have the candidates from the first Man Hunt to go through and then we’re good to go,’’ he explains.
I grab a pen and begin scrawling down the information as he calls it out. It doesn’t feel as alien an object in my hand as it did the first time I held it since coming back, but it is weird nonetheless. Aaron calls out candidate names along with their gender, age, physical appearance and also some relevant background information given on them. I take it down in short hand, something I have learned to do to keep up with him.
‘’Niamh was in the first year’s Man Hunt too,’’ explains Aaron, I climb from the beanbag and join him at the computer.
On the screen is the list of candidates; split into two columns representing each of the teams. On the bottom of each list is a name in bold – which we quickly realised means traitor.
‘’How many times is that now? Three?’’ I ask.
‘’Four,’’ corrects Aaron with a sigh.
I let my mind wander silently as I think of how Niamh could possibly have wound up getting involved with such a cruel and crazy group of scientists in the first place. How could she have done the things she did? How could she find an excuse to justify murder?
‘’That’s crazy,’’ I mutter.
I sit in silence for the next thirty minutes as Aaron transcribes the information into the copybook. I glance around my room; the walls are plastered with photographs of myself and my friends. I find myself looking around the endless collages of memories for any photos of Niamh I may have forgotten to tear down. I do not want her tarnishing my wall with her smile – a smile I have seen with blood running through it.
I cannot get the image of her standing in front of us soaking wet with the gun aimed at us from my head. I see it every time I close my eyes to sleep at night, along with countless others I wish I could forget. When I wake up in sweats in the middle of the night my dad is always there to comfort me, but sometimes his comfort isn’t what I need. I need Aaron.
‘’Done,’’ he says as I turn to him and smile.
I grab him by the wrist and pull him to his feet. For a moment he looks confused, he cocks an eyebrow at me. I smile and pull him close to me, locking my lips over his and kissing him passionately. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss me back with just as much zeal.
I have never felt this way about another person before. My whole life seems to revolve around the boy I am wrapped around. Everything I do, I think of how it can somehow incorporate Aaron. Everything I say to him is said with comfort, no matter how difficult it would be to talk about with another person. Everything he says makes me smile, even when there’s nothing funny about it at all.
When I am with him, I am truly happy. When I am without him, I text him and count down the hours until I can see him again. Is this what it feels like to be in love? Is this the happy ending I feel like I deserve? Is this the happy ending I so desperately crave?
‘’I love you,’’ I exclaim as I pull off both his jumper and shirt and press myself to his bare chest.
He grins, ‘’I love you too.’’
My tongue moves feverishly around his mouth, pulling back every so often so I can peck him on the lips. He bites down on the top of my lip ever so gently and I smile again.
I lift my arms up as he pulls off the top of my pink pyjamas and I am surprised at how comfortable I feel half-naked before him. The feel of his bare skin against mine sends goose-bumps rushing across my skin and I find myself smirking once more. He lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist as he continues to kiss me.
‘’I really do love you Aaron,’’ I repeat, ‘’I really mean that.’’
‘’I know you mean it, I mean it too,’’ he explains sincerely whilst slowly lowering me down onto the bed on top of him as he kisses me, ‘’you’re beautiful and funny and everything right with the world.’’
I place my hands on his cheeks and he places his on my hips. He lies beneath me and I rest against his toned and tanned body. This is the first time I have seen him like this I realise. He is him. He isn’t caked in sweat, or dirt, or blood. He is pure. After a while, we lie down together on the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. Calm. Peaceful.
‘’We are going to do all we can to help the families of those affected. When we track them down and Martin explains to them what is going on, we will ruin Marcus Haddlington. He will pay for what he did to us, for what he did to you,’’ explains Aaron.
‘’They won’t get away with this,’’ I add.
I feel him shake his head.
‘’No. I cannot sleep soundly knowing that the people behind this are still out there. We will not rest until we track them down, and we do what needs to be done.’’
‘’And then we’ll have our happy ever after,’’ I say hopefully. ‘’No more hurt. No more pain.’’
‘’And then we’ll have our happy ever after,’’ he confirms and squeezes me closer to him.
I close my eyes and rest my head against his chest with a small smirk across my face. He rests his chin on my head and we simply lie on my bed for the day quietly – enjoying one another’s company. We have a tough few weeks ahead of us, it certainly won’t be easy to find everyone on our list, but it won’t be half as difficult as the times that are behind us.
‘’But for now, we sleep,’’ I say.
He laughs, ‘’surely we’ve earned it.’’