First Chance... continued (work in progress)

There are pockets of London where you can slip away from the seven and a half million souls who share the city with you and find a secluded backwater so quiet you could be the only inhabitant.  A few streets from Impresso, Megan and I reached a small, semi-enclosed square and found a seat on one of the original Victorian iron benches near the middle, beneath a depressed looking tree.  Someone had spruced the bench up with shiny black paint but it was still as uncomfortable as hell.  Megan planted the gift-wrapped box on the seat between us and turned to look at me.

‘You look good, Red’, she said.

‘You said that already.  Cut the crap, Megan!  What’s in the box?’

Megan smiled, the dimples making a brief appearance.

‘Well, it’s nice to see you, too, Red.  Missed me?’

‘Like a heart attack,’ I muttered.  ‘What’s in the box?’

Megan grinned.  ‘Same old Red.  You really know how to make a girl feel wanted.’

Then she grew serious, was all business.  She still took my breath away.  I guess you could say I’ve got it bad.  Good job I had my survival instincts to fall back on.

‘I suppose you could call it a bio bomb, Red,’ said Megan thoughtfully.  ‘I’m told that there are enough little bugs inside  this box to decimate London.  It would make the Black Death look like a summer cold.’

She looked at the shiny silver box the way you or I would look at an interesting species of butterfly.

‘Apparently, it’s got a really impressive hit rate for the size of the sample.  Or, so I’m told.’

So, OK, the survival instincts had obviously gone AWOL.  I scooted back along the bench until I hit the arm, as far away from the box as I could get without actually running.

‘Jesus, Megan!  Where the hell did you get it?’ I could hear my voice rising.  ‘And why bring it to me?  You need to get it out of London!  Get it somewhere safe.’

Megan put her head on one side as she considered this.

‘The trouble is, Red, I don’t think there is anywhere safe for a thing like this.  If the bugs get out of the flask - that’s it.  There’s no antidote.  At least, that’s what Stephen told me.’

‘Stephen?  Who the hell is Stephen?’

My voice may have risen again.  I saw a woman who’d just entered the square with a small over-groomed poodle on a pale pink lead look across at us, then turn away with a scowl.  Fat lot of good that was going to do her and her dog if Megan’s bio bomb went off.  They’d be among the first to go.  Unless the bugs only targeted humans, in which case her dog might be safe for a while but it was going to have to resurrect its wolf ancestry to survive.  I could feel part of my mind playing out this scenario as a diversion from the incomprehensible terror that the box was generating.  The poodle looked as if it might be OK nipping ankles but I didn’t see it leading a pack of feral hounds through deserted London streets.  Too much pampering had tamed the beast.  I fought to get my mind back on track.

Megan gave me the look she gives me when she knows I’m struggling to keep up.
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‘You know, Red. Stephen.’  She sighed as I still looked blank.  ‘Stephen Mackenzie.  He’s an old friend from college.  You’ve met him, Red.   Tall, thin, wears glasses and never looks as if he knows what to do with his hands.’

OK, yes.  I had a vague memory of someone called Stephen.  He worked for some pharmaceutical firm, as far as I could remember, and definitely looked as if he didn’t get out much.  Megan had a knack for picking up stray dogs and giving them the odd titbit.  I must have met him at one of the gatherings at her flat a while ago, back when I didn’t know what I was letting myself in for, getting to know Megan.  I felt a sudden lurch in my stomach.  Maybe I, too, was one of her stray dogs, useful occasionally and meriting the odd pat on the head.  I felt my mouth turn sour at the thought.
​
‘I vaguely remember Stephen,’ I said.  ‘Science geek.  Why would he give you a bio-bomb?  What the fuck was he thinking?’