open-plan living area, replete with contemporary furnishings. A relaxed Lucius takes a sip from his coffee.
“He is gone from me. My black dog.” The strained voice comes from a figure seated opposite. A man encased in a thick body-form suit that betrays the deformities within, his face covered with a gauze-like fabric.
“Do you miss it?” asks Lucius.
“Yes. I find that I do,” says Robert. “Messiah?”
“We think it corrected the imbalances in your brain that caused the bipolar mood swings. It’s a positive sign.”
“And the others?”
“Deborah and Sharanjit have both made a full recovery, though the virus has made changes that we don’t yet fully understand. Sharanjit got it the worst. Almost as bad as you. The British Government have declared her dead and given her a new identity in the Royal Navy.”
Robert hauls himself up from the chair and limps to a set of nearby French windows. He gazes out at a view in silence.
“The Trinity bomb saved you all,” says Lucius. “The radiation weakened your immune systems just enough to allow Messiah in, without the initial toxic shock being fatal.” Lucius stares down at his coffee. “With specialist treatment both Deborah and Sharanjit were able to beat the virus, but you received the highest dose of radiation and Messiah won out.”
“So I am permanently infected?”
“Yes. But you are not contagious. That much we are certain of.”
“They will never let me leave here, will they? Not even when I die.”
“Messiah has completely integrated itself with your body. We can’t predict where it will go from here.”
“And Monica?” asks Robert.
“We think The Veil must have taken her, or her remains at least. We have no idea why.”
Robert pushes open the French doors, stepping through. Lucius joins him.
Before them is a small garden, beyond that a field of wheat, dotted with cypress trees. In the distance is the curvature of the Trinity dome, the repaired bomb spire beneath it.
“It could be worse, I suppose,” says Robert.
PETER
The eleven wheelchairs are arranged in an arc, facing down the nave toward the high altar. In each, a painfully thin African child. Justice Garr stands to one side, holding Apio’s hand.
Two figures of white flame emerge from the gloom. A man and a woman. From behind them a young boy appears. It is Peter. He is well.
Peter goes to Apio, takes her hand from Garr’s, and leads her away.
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Seen And Not Seen is the first in the Veil series, all three of which can be read independently of each other as standalone stories in their own right. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I have writing them, and if you do please leave a review if you feel you can.
William Bowden
Wraxall, England 2015
Seen And Not Seen
AChild Of Our Time
The Veil
Details at
williambowden.com
“He is gone from me. My black dog.” The strained voice comes from a figure seated opposite. A man encased in a thick body-form suit that betrays the deformities within, his face covered with a gauze-like fabric.
“Do you miss it?” asks Lucius.
“Yes. I find that I do,” says Robert. “Messiah?”
“We think it corrected the imbalances in your brain that caused the bipolar mood swings. It’s a positive sign.”
“And the others?”
“Deborah and Sharanjit have both made a full recovery, though the virus has made changes that we don’t yet fully understand. Sharanjit got it the worst. Almost as bad as you. The British Government have declared her dead and given her a new identity in the Royal Navy.”
Robert hauls himself up from the chair and limps to a set of nearby French windows. He gazes out at a view in silence.
“The Trinity bomb saved you all,” says Lucius. “The radiation weakened your immune systems just enough to allow Messiah in, without the initial toxic shock being fatal.” Lucius stares down at his coffee. “With specialist treatment both Deborah and Sharanjit were able to beat the virus, but you received the highest dose of radiation and Messiah won out.”
“So I am permanently infected?”
“Yes. But you are not contagious. That much we are certain of.”
“They will never let me leave here, will they? Not even when I die.”
“Messiah has completely integrated itself with your body. We can’t predict where it will go from here.”
“And Monica?” asks Robert.
“We think The Veil must have taken her, or her remains at least. We have no idea why.”
Robert pushes open the French doors, stepping through. Lucius joins him.
Before them is a small garden, beyond that a field of wheat, dotted with cypress trees. In the distance is the curvature of the Trinity dome, the repaired bomb spire beneath it.
“It could be worse, I suppose,” says Robert.
PETER
The eleven wheelchairs are arranged in an arc, facing down the nave toward the high altar. In each, a painfully thin African child. Justice Garr stands to one side, holding Apio’s hand.
Two figures of white flame emerge from the gloom. A man and a woman. From behind them a young boy appears. It is Peter. He is well.
Peter goes to Apio, takes her hand from Garr’s, and leads her away.
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Seen And Not Seen is the first in the Veil series, all three of which can be read independently of each other as standalone stories in their own right. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I have writing them, and if you do please leave a review if you feel you can.
William Bowden
Wraxall, England 2015
Seen And Not Seen
AChild Of Our Time
The Veil
Details at
williambowden.com
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