The Serum
And the cure
Allen was an interesting case. Not because he was riddled with guilt, we’re all of us riddled with guilt. Life will do that to you, burden you with the consequences of your inadequacies, or your priorities. It was the form Allen’s guilt took that was so interesting.
I was out in the garden when he came huffing up my hill. I’ve dug out a little terraced area below my well for the garden. I can pump water up from the well and then let it run down channels to flood each little terrace with water. It’s rather clever, if I do say so myself, but Allen was not impressed. Or more appropriately, he didn’t notice. He was a big man, sweating and looking over his shoulder, muttering, trembling, and so distracted he almost walked right through the garden fence. He bumped into it, wearing denim and a t-shirt, and looked down, as if a fence was something he’d never seen before. Then he looked up at me, tears in his eyes.
“I’m just trying to get to you,” he choked out. It was a touching sight, to see someone so troubled, not that it’s the first time. What followed Allen wasn’t altogether new to me either, but it had been many years since I last dealt with one. How to describe it? Like a monkey, but fully upright. Long arms, small head, hairy, mouth bigger than it has a right to be, and eyes like little bright pin pricks. It hissed at me as I walked out the garden gate and down to where Allen stood, eyes sunken into his skull, skin hanging from his tall frame.
“Want to tell me about your friend?”
“You can see it?”
“Yep.”
A visible ripple went through Allen, crumpling him and sending him to the ground. He wept. His friend danced around him, grinning madly and hooting. I looked back at my garden, there was still a lot of weeding to do. No rest for the weary.
“How a bout a cold beer and you tell me your story, huh?” I tapped Allen’s shoulder. I dislike touching people. When you’re as sensitive as I am, it’s generally an uncomfortable contact, but in this case, I still had my gardening gloves on. Allen looked up from the fetal position.
“Ok, sure, a beer.”
There’s nothing like the soothing normalcy of a cold beer on a hot day. He scrambled to his feet and dusted himself off. His friend mimicked him with a gaping wide mouth.