Over the Darkened Landscape - By Derryl Murphy Page 0,39
other side of the Line.
Hands grabbed both his arms, voices called for coffee and a place to sit. Next he knew he was leaning against a seatback on the passenger’s side of a patrol car, and Simone was there, leaning down and pressing a cardboard cup of coffee into his hands. “I don’t drink that shit,” he said, trying to smile.
“It’s an acquired taste,” she responded, making as bad an effort to return a smile. “You grow into it.”
He took a sip, grimaced at how bitter it was, then marvelled at the warm feeling he got as it settled inside of him, at the fact that already he felt more awake and alive. “Jeez, this ain’t half-bad,” he said, taking another sip and grimacing again.
“Welcome to middle age, Mike,” said Simone, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing.
All day Mike had avoided looking in a mirror. He’d let Simone drive back to the precinct so he could avoid using the rearview and had kept his head down when walking through glass doors.
But now that he was at home, leaning back in his overstuffed chair and drinking a strangely unsatisfying Coke, the urge to look had finally overtaken the fear. He took one more sip and then wandered into the kitchen, pouring the remainder of the soda down the drain, and then walked down the short hall to the bathroom. Once inside, he closed the door and stood facing the mirror for a good while without turning on the light, just letting the darkness accompany his worry while he thought about the case.
Derek Hayes had gone across the Line to engage in some deviant pedo action with Sandy Hancock, and, if Mike was right about the little vial of liquid he’d found, he’d been doing it regularly. Tomorrow Mike expected to visit the lab and be told that the stuff was Slow, a drug that gave a buzz like nothing else on the streets, but that usually killed the people who took it.
A side effect of the drug was its ability to counter the effects of crossing the Line, which meant that when it first hit the streets a few decades ago there had been a huge underground market for it. But the market had dried up among all but the worst of freaks with its eighty-or-more percent death rate, enough even to scare off most of the sick fucks who wanted to cross the Line into Templeton to screw little kids. But for those people who were able to use Slow and not drop dead after the first hallucination, the trips over to Templeton could be a possible bonus; an hour, maybe even two or three, safe from the aging effects of the Line. As a kid, Mike had never thought about the possibility of predators crossing the Line and doing their thing with impunity, but he found that his new self came up with that thought very quickly.
He shuddered, then turned on the light.
It was too bright, but after squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds, he was able to open them and slowly raise them to the mirror. A small cry escaped his mouth, but he clenched his fists tight, regained control, and continued to look.
There were wrinkles on his face, mostly at the top of the bridge of the nose and in the corners of his eyes, as well as two large smile lines grooved deep in his cheeks. A few light brown spots flecked his face, and he needed to shave his definitely pudgier chin. His hair was still mostly brown, thank God, although there were a few wisps of gray, and besides looking a bit thinner it also seemed that his hairline was higher up his forehead. He reached down and grabbed a small mirror that sat on the counter, held it behind his head, angled it so he could see that, yes, he did have a small bald spot on the crown.
Looking at his hand as he put the mirror back down, he saw that his fingers were fatter and hairier, something he had not expected. He put his hand on his stomach, felt the belly, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, letting the mass of flesh and fat spring free with a last flick of his fingers. Then he finally undid his pants, unsure even if he could pull them on again in the morning. His gut bulged, loose and defiant, daring him to find a way to shake it off.