About Your Immortality...
by Maril Swan

Part Three of four

Chapter Three

“Joe, I’ve got the motor vehicles people checking on all the black Jags registered in Europe and the UK. I told them I was an undercover cop working on a drug bust. So far, I have over a hundred to check. It’s going to take a lot of time. I could use some help. What about the Watchers?“

“Sorry, Nick, no can do. It’s the rules of the game.”

“Yeah, I know--non-interference. By the way, I got a good description of the guy from the café owner. He said the man had a Scottish accent and he overhead the name MacLeod mentioned. Don’t know if he was looking for Duncan MacLeod and grabbed Amanda instead or what. Here’s the description: middle-aged about fifty, tall, over six feet, fit-looking, well-groomed, Saville Row type suit, no facial hair, greying hair, carrying a briefcase. Apparently, he also showed Amanda some pictures, and the café owner thought they were having a bit of an argument. Since it was early, he wasn’t too busy so he watched them for a while. He said he considered calling the police as the way the guy took her off after her didn’t seem right. But by then the lunch rush was starting and he forgot about it. That’s all I’ve got so far.” Nick paused, and closed his notebook, shoving it into his leather jacket.

He reached for the key of his SUV, then hesitated, adding, “Oh, except when I gave the description to Lucy, she said she noticed someone like that sitting on a park bench across the road from the apartment yesterday. He attracted her attention because he was there for so long, and as she said, was strikingly handsome. Well, she actually said, ‘a hunk’. Anyway, a guy like that attracts notice so it’s only a matter of time before we know who he is. Joe, if we could only get the police in on this, it would go a lot faster. They have access to artists, files. It would help us find Amanda so much faster.”

“Nick, don’t even think of it. We take care of our own. Involving the police would do more harm than good.”

“OK, Joe. I just don’t like feeling so helpless.”

“Hang tight. I’ll get you some help.”

Laboratory, that evening

Amanda is sleeping on the sofa, and the doctor can be seen working in the lab on instruments, making notes. He seems disappointed and grim as if the experiments aren’t turning out as he hoped.

More time passes. The lab is darkened. Amanda is now awake and prowling, beginning to feel caged-in, cabin-fever setting in. Her movements are quick and nervous, like energy about to be released.

“Dr. MacLeod!” she called out, not hearing any sounds from the lab. No response. Approaching the mirror, she slammed her fist on it. It echoed hollowly then, silence.

“Dr. MacLeod!” she shouted, louder with a bit of desperation in her voice. Still no response. Anger and terror fought for sway and anger won as Amanda grabbed a chair and smashed the computer monitor. Out of control now, she tipped over the bookshelf, spilling all the books and began hurling them in all directions. Seizing a wine bottle she shied it at the mirror. One after the other she hurled any objects that came to hand against the unseen enemy behind the mirror. The room became a shambles, and still Amanda rampaged on.

In the interior of the laboratory, lights went on. The doctor, just returning, was astonished by the destruction she had wrought and for a second, seemed indecisive about how to handle it. Anger crossed his face.

He yelled into the microphone, trying to be heard over the din of smashing articles. “Stop--Amanda--Stop! Stop this, please. I don’t want to harm you, but you must stop!”

Hearing his voice, Amanda hurled a book at the mirror and looked around for more ammunition. She paused as she heard the sound of gas hissing into the room. Trying to escape, she stumbled backward, falling over some broken furniture and passed out. The door opened and the doctor entered, wearing a gas mask, wheeling in a gurney. Gently, he picked Amanda up, and placed her on the gurney. Noticing that she had glass shards stuck into her arms, he carefully pulled them out. A little bleeding then miraculously, the wound healed. He shook his head wonderingly.

“I’ll never get used to this.” he said, his voice somewhat muffled by the mask. He manacled Amanda with the restraint cuffs on the gurney, then turned his attention to the absolute shambles surrounding him. With resignation, he began to methodically clean up the mess.

The lab. Late afternoon

The room is tidy again. Amanda is still restrained and unconscious on the gurney. The doctor is checking her pulse. Beside him is a cart with vials of blood samples, obviously just taken.

Amanda smiled slightly as if having a pleasant dream. The doctor, unable to resist, brushed his lips gently over hers. To his surprise, she responded. The kiss deepened into a passionate intensity that left him breathless. Amanda sighed against his cheek, “Duncan.” He recoiled as if slapped.

The sudden movement jarred Amanda fully awake. Realizing what just transpired, she was outraged almost beyond reason. “Get away from me! If you come near me again, I’ll kill you, you bastard. You sorry excuse for a man.”

Noticing the vials of blood, hers, she lunged at the doctor but the restraints hold. Instinctively, he moved back.

Spitting angry, she snarled at him. “I’ll kill you if you touch me again! I swear I’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth and I’ll kill you!”

The doctor backed out of the room, dragging the cart and leaving Amanda still in restraints. Back in his lab, he leaned against a wall, humiliation and remorse etched on his face. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he peered into the room. Amanda was silently trembling with rage as tears of frustration coursed down her cheeks. The doctor was too overwrought to speak. He pressed a button on the console.

A buzz sounded and the restraint cuffs snapped open. Amanda slid off the gurney, massaging her wrists. Without looking toward the mirror, she walked across the room to prop herself behind the sofa, out of the view of her captor. Holding her head in her hands, she fought to regain her tenuous self-control.

“Come on, Amanda. Pull yourself together. You’ve been in tougher spots than this,” she thought, “But there’s never been so much at stake. If he gets to publish what he knows!” She held herself very tightly as she considered her next move.

Hours later
Amanda, her composure restored, is standing at the table, eating some grapes.

“Even immortals have to eat. What about it, Doc? When’s dinner?” Amanda seemed quite subdued, as if all her fight has gone. Disconsolately, she wandered around the room, unable to rest anywhere.

“I have ordered something for us. It should be here anytime now.” Hesitantly, he adds, “Amanda, I’m so sorry. But mostly, I’m sorry I’m not Duncan.”

“So am I,” she added, barely audibly.

Later, the remains of a meal can be seen on the table.

Amanda was back to pacing, prowling, picking up books, magazines, setting them down. Boredom showed as she couldn’t seem to find anything to do. Time obviously hung heavy. The doctor watched her apprehensively, expecting another rampage. The signs were there again but Amanda seemed to have lost the heart for it. She drifted over to the piano, trilled over the keys, then sat down and began to play FurElise, softly and with feeling. She shifted on to other tunes, then a speak-easy jazz piece. Now really into the music, Amanda launched into the tune she sang as a chanteuse in the Berlin night club.

“Hey mister, I’m nobody’s sister …” Amanda smiled as the memory of that occasion swept her away. The doctor stopped his work and watched, mesmerized.

Like a cloud passing over the sun, Amanda’s mood changed. She began hammering on the keys in frustration, creating a cacophony of discordant noise. The doctor turned off the speaker and returned to his work. Through the glass, Amanda could be seen but not heard crashing on the piano keys. Oblivious to her distress, the doctor prepared a syringe, made some notes and injected himself.

Some time passes

The doctor glanced into the room and Amanda was nowhere in sight. A sudden panic gripped him as he looked around the lab as if expecting her to leap out at him. He flipped on the speaker and the sound of water splashing could be heard.

“She’s just having a shower,” he laughed with evident relief.

“Dr. MacLeod? Did you think to bring a change of clothes for me?” Amanda sang out from the bathroom door, wearing only a towel. She smiled beguilingly and continued.

“A shower is just what the doctor ordered. I feel like a new man. Know where I can get one?” She gave him a seductive wink. A heavy sigh from the doctor is audible in the room.

“Look in the bureau drawers. There are some serviceable things, maybe not your style. But you’d look good in a potato sack.”

“A compliment at last!” Amanda said, sending the doctor her most alluring look.

“I can see how a man could lose his head over you.” said the doctor grudgingly.

“Some have.”

“Like a female mantis, luring a man in, then at the supreme moment, taking his head!”

“I’m not heartless. I usually wait 'til he’s had his cigarette.”

“What are you creatures? I’ve seen your handiwork on my autopsy table. How can you do it, Amanda?” The doctor was getting worked up, losing his tight control on his emotions.

“Maybe it’s self-defense. Did that ever occur to you? The only way to survive is to be a better fighter. Survival, like anyone would want. Can you blame a girl for that?”

“You’re not a girl, you’re a woman. Try acting like one for a change.” He was perspiring and checked his pulse, worriedly.

“Sorry. I can’t. I’m not human, remember?”

“Well, I am human, and I can only take so much…" He paused, staggered, knocking some vials onto the floor. Trying to catch his breath, he hung onto a table for support. With a trembling hand, he made some notes, checking his vital signs and adding more notes. He stooped to pick up the glass shards and cut himself. The wound bled for a second, stopped and healed. Scarcely breathing, he cut himself again. Again the wound healed spontaneously.

“Amanda, it worked! My god, it worked!” Laughing maniacally, he cut himself again with the same result.

Amanda, now dressed, was sitting on the sofa, distractedly leafing through a magazine. “What are you on about now?”

“I healed--spontaneously! Your plasma contains something which triggers and accelerates the healing process. Now if I can isolate it and identify it, maybe it can be synthesized!”

His voice was breathless with excitement, eyes sparkling somewhat madly. It was his Eureka moment but Amanda didn’t seem to be sharing it. She seemed far from pleased, pensive. Her very silence drew his attention as she stared off into space, thinking. Disappointed with her reaction, the doctor tried to draw her into his moment of triumph.

“Amanda, this has happened much more quickly than I expected, hoped for. It won’t take nearly as long as I thought. You’ll soon have your freedom, and I, …will have immortality.” He chuckled to himself. Dismissing Amanda with a shrug as she continued to be unresponsive, he began making notes furiously.

After several minutes, Amanda spoke, her voice restrained.

“There are certain things about us you don’t know. We can’t reproduce--never have children. Anyone taking the serum may live a lot longer, but will never have a family. Think about that, James. No family, no children, never have that kind of love. It’s a high price to pay. And you go on paying it for a long, long time.” A melancholy seemed to have settled on Amanda as she continued to stare sightlessly ahead.

“Included in my research in genetics has been experiments in in vitro fertilization. A couple of days ago, I took a human embryo and injected it with your genetic material. It is reproducing normally so far. The next step would be to implant the embryo into a host mother. You can reproduce.”

Amanda leapt to her feet, stunned by this news. She seemed to having difficulty speaking.

“Is it male or female?”

“Doesn’t matter.” The doctor was looking through a microscope and hadn’t noticed her reaction. “I will end the experiment before it begins to develop much further. Right now, it’s just a cluster of cells.”

“If it developed into a child, would it look like me?”

“As much as any child resembles its parent, I should imagine.” He seemed oblivious to the torrent of emotion working through Amanda.

The torrent erupted as Amanda loses what tenuous control she had been maintaining. “You monster! Frankenstein. Jekyll” she shrieked at the mirror, then sank to the floor, muttering under her breath, “I’ve got to get out. I’m going mad in here.”

Back to the mirror, pleading. “You’ve got to let me out! In the name of humanity, in the name of anyone you care about, please, let me go.”

“Everyone I care about is dead.” the doctor stated flatly. “My wife and two children were killed in a plane crash over fifteen years ago. Terrorists. I have no one but myself and my work. And, of course, now I have you.”

“You don’t have me! When I get loose, I’ll kill you with my bare hands, I swear I will!” Her emotions have again reached the flash point as the doctor watched, startled.

Grabbing the gurney, Amanda used it as a battering ram against the door. After being slammed against the door many times, the gurney was destroyed but the door held. Fearing another onslaught of destruction, the doctor reached for a switch, but then Amanda stopped as suddenly as she began. Breathing heavily, she went back to lie on the sofa, staring sightlessly.

Concluded in Part Four