Chapter
3
Clichés
The moment I entered the office the
following day I went straight to the computer and searched for the profile of
the man in my dreams—green eyes with brown hair. My estimates were right; there were only five
people that fit the profile in the entire district and only one had a doctorate
(who else would have to wear a lab coat?).
I made my way to the office of Prof. Colleen.
The office was situated in the heart of the
city. The city hub was not my favourite
of places to be in especially with the after-work jams. I took the subway to avoid just that.
While walking to the building, I ran
through Prof. Colleen’s file in my head.
Prof. Colleen arrived in the city about a month after I was found. He is a research scientist specializing in
tissue reproduction. No marriage. No divorces.
No history before he arrived here.
The only reason why he was in the database was because he was suspected
of using live human subjects in one of his experiments.
But what connections did he have to me?
Except his timely arrival a month after my discovery, there was nothing. Unless I was one of those live human
specimens he tested on. I did have rapidly
regenerative skin compared to others, but doctors have said that it was because
of my super high metabolic rate.
“What can I do for you, Detective?” Prof.
Colleen said as he greeted me into his lab.
I saw stasis tubes by the hundreds holding various samples of skin. I noted none were big enough to hold a human
in, but then again, research like those is carried on behind closed doors.
“I would like to ask whether the name Adam rings
a bell.” I said as I sat down at his desk.
“You have to be more specific than that,
I’m sorry.”
“Adam thirteen?” It was there that I caught
his eyes widen for a split second before going back into his normal stern face.
“What exactly are you investigating,
Detective?” Colleen spoke defensively.
He reached for his hip—a move common of enforcement agents who
instinctively reach for their sidearm.
There was of course no real danger as I did not see the bulge of a gun
at his hip when I first entered the office.
“That information is confidential,” I could
not believe I used the oldest cliché in the police book, “what can you tell me
about Adam thirteen?”
Colleen smiled at me and said:
“My dear, Detective, I just need to make
just one phone call and you’ll be out of a job.
I ask you again, nicely, what is your case?”
“Are you threatening an agent of the
law?”—again another cliché—“As long as I uphold justice, there is nothing you
can do.”
Just then there was a knock on the door and
two men in suits walked in.
“Is there a problem, Prof. Colleen?” One of
them said as he reached at his hip as a warning to me.
“No,” Colleen said, “This detective was
just about to leave.” He said it sternly and I knew that it was a threat. I could easily take the two men down, but I
would risk getting into a lot of trouble.
I decided that it was better to continue my investigation not behind
bars. I got up and said:
“Don’t leave town.” Another cliché? Was I becoming a real cop now?
I was escorted to the exit where I thanked
the security for the hospitality—sarcastically.
I do not know whether they wanted me to know or not, but it was obvious
that one of the security personnel was following me. I steered myself into the most crowded areas,
not to disappear, but more to avoid giving a chance for a clear shot. I took a quick glance at the guard and I
noted that he was carrying a firearm—with the safety off. I knew I got myself into a big mess. I tabulated my options. The most logical move was to flee. Fleeing would mean civilians would be safe
and my chances of survival would be higher, but it would also mean giving this
suspect a chance to escape. An alternative option would be to confront the
target, but that would risk innocent injuries and even deaths. I decided on another alternative and walked
towards the secluded, abandoned construction site. I stood behind a steel pillar before
unhooking my holster and pointing my firearm at him.
“That is far enough. Put your hands where I
can see them.” The amount of police clichés I have said today was really
bothering me. I was greeted with a
gunshot. The blast would have got me if
I had not been behind the pillar. Instead the bullet ricocheted off the metal
pole creating sparks. More bullets soon
followed suit, but they came from various directions and the bullets were from
different calibre guns. I heard the
sound of a sniper at my right. Shooting
would risk getting shot myself, so I stayed my ground. I almost called for backup but then decided
not to as too many people would be at risk.
The shooting soon stopped. The
man who was following me shouted:
“This is a warning! Stay away from the ADAM
case! You will not be given a chance next time!” He walked away and I heard the other shooters
move away. 45 seconds passed before I
decided that it was safe. It was then
that the pain hit me. Bullets had found
their way into my shoulder, shin, and thigh.
I reached into my phone and dialled the number of the PD while I felt
the world blacking out. I heard the
front desk officer Elaine’s voice.
“This is Thomason…trace…me...” I drifted
into unconsciousness.
Purpose
is a motivation to live. What is man
without a purpose? What is life if there is no reason to live? Man needs a purpose no matter how small to
keep him going through life. May it be
to get an ‘A’ on an exam or to sing on stage, we all have a purpose to live.
I awoke in a hospital bed surrounded by
doctors running around the room.
“He’s awake! Someone, sedate him now!” a
doctor yelled. I looked at my body. My shoulder wound was probably caused by a
sniper and my leg wounds by a sidearm. I
managed to speak through the mask they put on my face.
“The bullets are evidence.”
“We know that, sir, please let us get them
out of you first,” The doctor was clearly shocked at my ability to speak,
“Sedate him now!”
“We already have…twice,” shouted the nurse.
“Must be the adrenaline pumping,” the
doctor concluded, “Up the anaesthetic.”
I tried to defy the doctor’s orders, but
soon the anaesthetic started taking its effect and I felt my world fade away
the second time in the day.
Unconsciousness
