Ray Sullivan publishes science based fiction adventures on Amazon, Smashwords, Apple iBookstore, Barnes & Noble, Sony, WH Smith and other good eBook retailers as e-books. Additionally all of his books are available in paperback on Amazon. He also muses on technology, posts comedic books in serial format and discusses the world of self publishing.
Books written by Ray Sullivan
Friday, 23 November 2012
Parallel Lives Chapter 23
Sam sat at his desk early on Monday, approximately two
hours before John would be taken from Fylingdales medical facility to York
General Hospital under the guise of a military medical emergency. They had, of
course, asked Sam to arrange for this procedure, a routine scan, before he
brought John up. He had prevaricated, concerned that pushing such a request
through as a priority would be viewed suspiciously without supporting evidence.
And it would have needed a second opinion from another doctor within the
hospital to obtain the short notice authorisation.
His weekend had been almost as much a blur as John’s, the
self administered chemicals dispensed in bars and across the off-license
counter mimicking the loss of time remarkably closely. Except he did remember
Sunday, or at least the latter half. Coming to on his couch, the TV silently
flickering an old black and white movie in front of him, he had slowly sat up
from the position he had lain motionless in for hours, his left side screaming
pain as he pushed himself up. His head had been splitting and the wine bottles
strewn across the carpet, complete with red stains adjacent, bore testimony to
his excess. But then he had started to think.
Probably, he had reasoned, he had blown it. As much as it
pained him, they were almost certainly right to exclude him for the time being.
He had no idea how far advanced they now were with the procedure, and they knew
little of him since leaving the programme. Hell, the MRI scan was a luxury when
he had been running tests on candidates, reserved for only the most likely, and
then only after extensive data collection. Now it was the first port of call,
as far as they were concerned, as it was for many in his profession these days.
They had told him the programme had virtually stopped, that it had been dormant
for years, but they were able to react swiftly to his phone call, provide
resources, persuade the military to let them use facilities. And all of this
was essentially overnight. Looking back, as Sam did that Sunday, it didn’t ring
as true as he had thought.
He decided, that afternoon, that he should have done as
requested. But his pride had been dented by the realisation that they didn’t
need him. Not at present anyway. If he had hung on in there, shown his mettle,
his resolve, and perhaps just a little humility they may have considered
letting him in a little further. After all, that was what he wanted, to be part
of the team again, carrying out ground breaking research. But instead he had
Sam had left the bottle alone after that, sinking copious
quantities on non-alcoholic drinks and moderate numbers of aspirins. By late
evening he had lain in his bath, relaxing to the sound of popular classical
themes, gathering his thoughts. And now he was sat at his desk, earlier than
ever recorded by the electronic booking system used within the department,
beating his receptionist by three quarters of an hour. He couldn’t carry out
much in the way of damage limitation, but he reckoned they would still need
him, later perhaps than sooner. He would contact Michael this morning and try
to put things straight. Then he would leave it awhile. He leant back into the
worn leather chair he had taken from position to position as he had worked
around the country, listening to the comforting creak as the hide stretched and
micro-pores broke bonds that had been formed in manufacture. Then he started as
the phone rang.