Chapter 16 (1 of 2)

A hot mist of scented vapours touched his jaw and made their around the curvature of his face. Sweet plumes fanned out in front of him creating a thin white veil. Though through the blurry haze, he could just about make out the thin, gaunt silhouette of Gwen. She was staring him. That much was for sure. His head remained dipped, almost touching the heated broth as he hid behind the wafting barrier.

The soft lighting in the room gave off a peaceful aurora. Even more so by the swaying branches of the sycamore tree casting its hypnotic shadows upon the kitchen walls. Still looking as strong and beautiful as the day they had both moved in to this quaint semi-detached bungalow, the leaves would glisten and sparkle at the height of the sultry summer months. With a traditional, wooden slatted back porch overlooking the lush, sprawling backyard, it provided for a picturesque scene. Perfect for a couple very much in love.

His eyes moistened as he lifted his head ever so slightly, but enough to make eye contact. The dreadful, familiar pattern of a calm before the storm was looming.

“Conway, why are you not speaking, honey?” Gwen asked almost in a whisper. The tell-tale signs of an impending clash.

Drucker lifted his head over the steaming soup. “Nothing to say really.” he replied with a smile. His hands balled up into two fists under the table as he risked uttering those three words that contained such power as to ravage the entire evening altogether. But he was all out of choices. “Are you alright?”

She lowered her head whilst Drucker studied her at the opposite end of the table. “I think you already know the answer to that.” The fuse was lit.

“So why belittle me by asking me again?”. The anger surfaced within her quicker this time round, which caught him off guard somewhat. He decided to opt for the reasoned approach.

“Honey, do we really have to go through this routine again? If there’s a problem, can’t we just talk about it in a civil manner?” He played down the tone in his voice to reflect the pleading in his eyes.

“I see. So you call this a routine now, do you?” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“No. All I meant was…”

“I heard you the first time.” she interrupted. “No need to repeat yourself. It’s just good to know what you actually think of me and where I stand, that’s all.”

He looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. “Do we have to do this again? Please, just one night of peace.” This last sentence stemmed from the frustration from planning the events of tomorrow, yet it was a mistaken slip of the tongue. It should have remained just a passing thought, nothing more. But it was too late for that now.

He felt the faint breeze of an object fly past his cheek. A second later, a loud crash somewhere behind him on the living room floor. Drucker leapt out of the chair in disbelief. He was greeted by a vision of Gwen, glowering over at him at the other end of the table and panting hard. “What in the hell is wrong with you? Have you gone crazy?” he shouted.

“Living with a son-of-a-bitch like you, who wouldn’t!” she retorted in wild abandon. “I mean, what more do you want from me? I’ve given you my life! I slave over a hot stove to prepare your meals, clean your filthy clothes, clean this forsaken house! God help me, I do it all and for what? For you to just sit there and not even try to converse while we eat! Just have you stuck in that bullshit office all day and leave me to rot in this hellhole we live in!” Warm tears streamed from red, vein-filled eyes as her version of the truth poured out like water from a river damn.

“Yeah, that’s right! My goddamn office! My job that you hate so much!” he fired back, lost in a rage of his own. “The same one that buys all our groceries, that pays for all the clothes we wear, that provides all the utensils needed to cook the damn food in the first place! Where would we be if I called it quits today, huh? Broke without a cent to our name, that’s where!” In all of his pent-up frustration, the pain of bringing out his own interpretation of truth ran deep. This, he recalled, was the first time he retaliated back this hard instead of simply storming out the house and finding a temporary solution to his problems at the bottom of a pint glass.

“Maybe that’s what we need? You thought of that?”, she screamed, pointing an unwavering finger at him. ”A fresh start. Pressing the reset button on everything. On our finances, our life together… Maybe even our love!”

That last part cut Drucker clean in two as his feelings for her never dwindled, even when caught in the throes of rage. He reasoned that this was just a heat-of-the-moment comment and let it slide fast. Yet he still felt like an animal trapped in a set of headlights. He pondered whether to go with the tried and tested formula and get the hell out of there as fast as possible.

“Listen.” He said, now in a slow calming voice of reason. “Before this gets any more out of hand, let me just lay all my cards out on the table. You know the pressure I’ve been under these last few days with the synthetic murder investigation, right? You're well aware this is a national and international incident and I’m about a hair’s breath away from solving it. Can you imagine the stress I’m under at work? That poor boy died at the gas station and someone’s gotta find the synthetic who did it… They picked me. Only a few weeks after that promotion I was busting my ass to get. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Drucker spilled his heart out in the hope that any semblance of rationality left in the relationship might be unearthed.

She raised both her hands out in front of her and clapped slowly. “My hero. Conway Drucker to the rescue of mankind. Well, if only you’d told me all this a little sooner, I'd have baked a cake for you as well.” The sarcasm and resentfulness in her voice left him in tatters. His head spun in a whirlwind of agony and despair. ”So, let me get this crystal clear.” she muttered through a row of clenched teeth. “Some unknown kid gets opened up like a tin of baked beans and I’m supposed to feel sorry for the both of you? You disgust me. In fact, the very sight of you sickens me.” Drucker retained his neutral stance and let the tantrum run it’s course.

”What do you want, Gwen? How can I fix this? By us having a child?” he mumbled.

”Oh look, everyone, he thinks I want a child.” she mocked aloud. “God, for a so-called Detective, you really play the dimwit very well indeed. I want a family! That’s what I did want, anyway. For you to come home at normal hours. Like I said, not stuck in the office all damn night! When’s the last time we went out for a meal together. Or god forbid on a vacation even? When’s the last time we spent any quality time together?” The sobs grew louder as she paused long enough for him to respond.

An intense anxiety took over Drucker. The burning desire to travel to the furthest corners of the world and hide away under some rock, consumed him. The added pressures of this case weighing on his mind intertwined with the crumbling mental state of his wife proved to much too bear. He had to pick a side, although there was only one logical option he could see right now.

“Gwen, I’m outta here. Don’t wait up.”

“What? Are you serious? You’re just gonna leave… Again!” she screamed as he stepped over the broken glass toward the front door. He turned around just before leaving, seeing eyes filled with hate and seething madness. Almost boring a hole through his soul. “I’m sorry, honey.” he said, lowering his gaze. “I just don’t know how to fix this.”

The door slammed shut as the cool evening breeze offered little consolation. His black Corrola was parked in the driveway, flashing its high beams twice as the alarm disabled. He got in and sat there, unmoving for a few seconds. Time enough to unwind his thoughts a little and relax.

The keys jangled in his hands as he struggled in find the ignition in the dark. He looked up and saw a thin shadow gliding beyond the curtain of his living room window. The dim lighting gave the figure a ghostly, chilling appearance. Either that or he was losing his grasp on reality, he thought. His mobile phone rang out from his trouser pocket, delivering a sudden and ill-timed shock to the system. He took it out and checked the number of the display. An unknown caller.

“Yes, who is this?” he answered in a neutral tone.

“Yes, Detective.” a young woman responded. “This is Jane Collimore. Nathan’s mother.”

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter of my novel, please look out for more on the way... (author: @ezzy)

The Symbiotic Protocol - Prologue
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 1
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 2
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 3
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 4
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 5
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 6
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 7
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 8
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 9
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 10
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 11
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 12
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 13
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 14 (1 of 2)
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 14 (2 of 2)
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 15 (1 of 2)
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 15 (2 of 2)