Remedy Z: Solo by Dan Yaeger

Author:Dan Yaeger
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Champ
Published: 2015-10-05T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10: The Rock

Dr Kian Penfould sat in his antique chair, with his pipe and tea service in front of him and puffed comfortably. His teak panelled office looked over at Cooleman Private Airport, his airport. He smiled with self-assurance and satisfaction as his “squads” could be seen returning through the main gates of the perimeter where the airfield and its fence adjoined his medical centre-come-fortress: the Rock. Those brutes, thugs, criminals, junkies or just desperate folks ran about doing his bidding like a private army and he loathed their company but loved their work. All many wanted was some home-grown drugs, laced with Divine, and enough of his formula to keep the virus at bay: he was their master.

Penfould rose from his chair with a grimace and ache, and noticed what he thought was Squad 4 coming in. They were carrying a French antique armoire which he had asked someone to find for him. His eyesight was so poor that he wasn’t entirely sure of its state, quality or authenticity but it didn’t matter really. It looked the part and was another symbol of his power. When it came to French armoires, he wouldn’t have known, despite his pretences. The prize that was being hauled through the gates by two of his worst troglodytes indeed looked the part. He smiled an awful, self-assured smile of satisfaction. The armoire was one of the things he had asked them to find and they had done his bidding, proved his power over them, yet again. “Good, the junkies in Squad 4 can replace the blighters I lost in Squad 1.” he said to himself, smirking. “Mon armoire: j’taime.” He continued to himself with his poor overconfident and incorrect French. He was the wittiest person; one just had to ask him. Others survived in that new world but Dr Penfould was the self-professed saviour of the world who had been working on a cure for the Divine infection. He was so brilliant it had taken him 2 years of snivelling around another doctor who he murdered for his theory on the cure. The theory was not yet proven but Penfould had his chance to rule and be great. Just the promise of a cure had made him powerful. He felt he was special and did not need just survive; he would be indulged, as entitled. This was his time, he was king.

A sip from his tea-cup was all that was needed and he snapped back to his naturally mean spirit once more. A grimace and a wince were made as he tasted bitter dregs at the bottom of the cup. He carefully placed the fine-bone china cup back onto its saucer and regarded the airfield for a moment. The sound of an incoming helicopter was welcomed and took one stress off his mind.

The helicopter came in, blowing a gale of dust all around. Junkies from all around scrambled to receive the aircraft. Small trees bowed in the down-draft and the whining of the jet engine was audible and vibrating through his little office and his little world.

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