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Authors: Gareth Wiles
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and did not at all want my connection with Lucy.â
âLauren? What do you mean, who she really is?â But, Noose began to fade, feeling himself pulled away from this space. Strangely, he wanted to stay â he felt at home in Peterâs company. If this
was
Peter.
âThere is very little time left,â Peter whispered, moving and sitting back next to Noose and leaning in close. âYou, Noose, are not one of The Great Collective, but you can help set me free. All I want is to live and die like a normal man, like I should have done from the start. This current lifespan as Peter Smith is my last chance. For this, Reaping Icon must be stopped.â
âWhat can I do?â
âAlex; he is one, and Reaping Icon has made contact. You must do all you can to stop him from realising his full connection to The Space. If Reaping Icon can harness Alexâs forgotten residual connection, I will no longer be the final link and there will be terrible suffering.â
Noose suddenly wakened in hospital, two armed police officers standing either side of his bed as Inspector Nicola Williams hovered over him.
âOh God, Henry,â she spoke lightly, holding his handcuffed hand, âwhat a mess weâre in.â
âPeter,â he coughed.
âPeter? Peter Smith? Heâs dead, Henry, Peter Smith is dead.â
âI saw him,â Noose went on, trying to sit up. His body, and the handcuffs keeping him attached to the bed, would not allow it.
âOf course you did,â Williams comforted him, rolling her eyes. âListen, you nearly died in prison. Itâs not safe for a child sex criminal in there, weâre trying to get you put into maximum security solitary confinement.â She smiled encouragingly, squeezing his hand.
âIâm innocent, for fuck sake,â he growled, digging his nails into her hand. She recoiled, the two officers on guard stepping forward.
âIâm fine,â she said to them, grabbing hold of Nooseâs hand again. âListen to me,â she said, pressing something into Nooseâs palm, âyou were found guilty in a court of law, so thatâs that.â She stared intently into his eyes, he momentarily flicking his to the guards. âThere is no escape, no re-trial; just a hard slog.â She leant in close, kissing him on the forehead. âI did have feelings for you, once,â she uttered, before kissing him again. Then, she let go and walked away, without turning to look back. Noose gripped his hand; he knew it was the key for the handcuffs. But why? Why would Williams want to help him escape? Did he even want to escape? That would make him a fugitive, a guilty murderer on the loose forever hunted down. Anything was better than going back to prison, he supposed. And, as his memory of talking to Peter just now quickly faded like a muddy dream, he kept thinking about the museum club. Suddenly he could remember nothing but the museum club, and thought perhaps it was a clue from either Peter or his sub-conscious about the one who had framed him. He clenched the key, looking up at the armed officers, and wondered what to do next. He felt as rough as toast right now; there wasnât a lot he could do.
* * *
The ills that men do put upon
Their own shoulders.
Yet we seek out greater meaning,
Shoulders of giants.
Piling on the ill intentions,
Corrupting our own children.
Praying to a higher Man,
His shoulders weighted with burden.
WHAT HAPPENED TO ALEX NEXT
Alex sat and waited for his visitor to arrive. Heâd had very few people come to see him in prison so far; few people who he knew. Being the man convicted of murdering the Prime Minister, he had had quite a bit of media exposure and was routinely being asked for interviews and generally receiving fan mail from extremists and the like. He didnât like all that, and so far had managed to curb his derailment into that area. His legal aides were advising
âLauren? What do you mean, who she really is?â But, Noose began to fade, feeling himself pulled away from this space. Strangely, he wanted to stay â he felt at home in Peterâs company. If this
was
Peter.
âThere is very little time left,â Peter whispered, moving and sitting back next to Noose and leaning in close. âYou, Noose, are not one of The Great Collective, but you can help set me free. All I want is to live and die like a normal man, like I should have done from the start. This current lifespan as Peter Smith is my last chance. For this, Reaping Icon must be stopped.â
âWhat can I do?â
âAlex; he is one, and Reaping Icon has made contact. You must do all you can to stop him from realising his full connection to The Space. If Reaping Icon can harness Alexâs forgotten residual connection, I will no longer be the final link and there will be terrible suffering.â
Noose suddenly wakened in hospital, two armed police officers standing either side of his bed as Inspector Nicola Williams hovered over him.
âOh God, Henry,â she spoke lightly, holding his handcuffed hand, âwhat a mess weâre in.â
âPeter,â he coughed.
âPeter? Peter Smith? Heâs dead, Henry, Peter Smith is dead.â
âI saw him,â Noose went on, trying to sit up. His body, and the handcuffs keeping him attached to the bed, would not allow it.
âOf course you did,â Williams comforted him, rolling her eyes. âListen, you nearly died in prison. Itâs not safe for a child sex criminal in there, weâre trying to get you put into maximum security solitary confinement.â She smiled encouragingly, squeezing his hand.
âIâm innocent, for fuck sake,â he growled, digging his nails into her hand. She recoiled, the two officers on guard stepping forward.
âIâm fine,â she said to them, grabbing hold of Nooseâs hand again. âListen to me,â she said, pressing something into Nooseâs palm, âyou were found guilty in a court of law, so thatâs that.â She stared intently into his eyes, he momentarily flicking his to the guards. âThere is no escape, no re-trial; just a hard slog.â She leant in close, kissing him on the forehead. âI did have feelings for you, once,â she uttered, before kissing him again. Then, she let go and walked away, without turning to look back. Noose gripped his hand; he knew it was the key for the handcuffs. But why? Why would Williams want to help him escape? Did he even want to escape? That would make him a fugitive, a guilty murderer on the loose forever hunted down. Anything was better than going back to prison, he supposed. And, as his memory of talking to Peter just now quickly faded like a muddy dream, he kept thinking about the museum club. Suddenly he could remember nothing but the museum club, and thought perhaps it was a clue from either Peter or his sub-conscious about the one who had framed him. He clenched the key, looking up at the armed officers, and wondered what to do next. He felt as rough as toast right now; there wasnât a lot he could do.
* * *
The ills that men do put upon
Their own shoulders.
Yet we seek out greater meaning,
Shoulders of giants.
Piling on the ill intentions,
Corrupting our own children.
Praying to a higher Man,
His shoulders weighted with burden.
WHAT HAPPENED TO ALEX NEXT
Alex sat and waited for his visitor to arrive. Heâd had very few people come to see him in prison so far; few people who he knew. Being the man convicted of murdering the Prime Minister, he had had quite a bit of media exposure and was routinely being asked for interviews and generally receiving fan mail from extremists and the like. He didnât like all that, and so far had managed to curb his derailment into that area. His legal aides were advising
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