Chapter 33

"Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death;
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low,
As long ago, my love, how long ago.

-Christian Rossetti, "Echo"

The sun was streaming in across the bed when the phone rang in Elizabeth's apartment. The noise slowly roused her from a deep sleep. By the time she was awake the phone had stopped. At first she had no idea where she was. It took her thirty seconds to orient herself and realize she was in her bedroom. She turned over to sleep again, feeling hazy; but the phone started to ring once more. With a groan she picked it up.

"Hello?" she said.

"Elizabeth! Thank heavens you're all right! I've been trying to reach you for the last fifteen minutes."

"I've been asleep. What time is it?"

"It's 7:30," said Will. "Weren't you with Dresle last night?"

"No," said Elizabeth; then she stopped to think. Now that she was awake, she began to feel dizzy, and nausea was clawing at her stomach. "I don't think so." She felt as if she'd had a dream about Dresle that was quickly fading. She could no longer grasp it.

"I thought she was supposed to come over," said Will.

"She was," said Elizabeth, "but –" She tried hard to remember. "I was working on the translation, and then… I must have fallen asleep," she concluded. How had she gotten into bed last night? She tried to sit up but immediately felt sick to her stomach. The room swirled around her.

"Are you all right?" asked Will.

"I just feel – nauseated, and dizzy. I don't know why," she said.

"Stay right there. I'll be over in a minute. And don't turn on the TV until I get there, okay?"

"Okay," she said, too tired to argue. She lay down in bed again.

Will was over before ten minutes had passed. She groaned and got up at his knocking to unlock the door. Then she sank down onto the couch as he came in. "You look pale," he said.

"Just… not feeling very well," she said, putting a hand to her forehead. "I don't remember … how I got to bed last night. Maybe I had too much to drink."

"There's only a teacup with some cold tea in it on the table," said Will.

"I don't remember having tea," said Elizabeth.

"Well, you must have had it alone. I only see one cup. So Dresle didn't come over last night?"

"I … don't think so," said Elizabeth. When she tried to remember there was only a big blackness of the night before. "I must have been really tired. But why are you so worried?"

Will sat down next to her on the couch. "Can I get you anything? Some water? Or medicine?"

"Maybe some anti-nausea tablets, for my stomach. They're in the bathroom cupboard."

Will came back a moment later with the tablets and a cup of water.

"I wonder why Dresle never came last night," she said, after swallowing the pills. "I'd better call her. But first I'm going to call into work. I'm feeling too sick to go in today."

"Before you do that, there's something I have to tell you," Will said, sitting again beside her on the couch. "Something has … happened to Dresle."

Elizabeth felt confused. "What? But I thought you thought she was over here?"

"I thought she came over here last night. But you don't seem to be able to remember anything. Which is strange for you – you have such a good memory."

"I probably just had too much to drink," said Elizabeth again, as if trying to convince herself.

"Even then you don't lose your memory," said Will.

"Well, what happened to Dresle? You said something happened."

"Elizabeth, she … well, she's – been found this morning."

Elizabeth suddenly froze, all thoughts of her memory loss gone. "What do you mean, been found?"

"Her body has been found."

Elizabeth's brain still felt hazy. "What?" She could not seem to grasp it.

"Elizabeth, she's – she's dead," said Will. "I'm so sorry."

"Dead?" Elizabeth said in disbelief. It couldn't be true.

"I'm afraid so. They found her body this morning. It was horribly mutilated."

"But that's not possible," said Elizabeth, reaching for the remote to turn on the TV. There must be some mistake.

"Don't," said Will, putting his hand over hers. "You don't want to see it. Her subcutaneous tracker was cut out of her."

Elizabeth was in shock. "But who – why would anyone do this? I thought everyone loved them now, because of the peace treaty?"

"I have no idea, Elizabeth. She was so innocent and so kind, I don't know why anyone would do such a thing."

Elizabeth evaded Will's grasp and turned on the TV. Plastered across the screen were the headlines: "Vellorian Dresle found dead this morning in Oxford. Authorities investigating."

"They'll probably come to investigate you," said Will.

"But I don't remember anything."

"Yes, and that's very strange," said Will. "Listen, will you wait here? I want to get something from the lab. I'll be back soon."

"Okay," she said, still focused on the screen.

While Will was gone, she continued to listen to the details of the murder on the news. "No sign of sexual assault," the news anchor was saying. "Her body was found hanging from the side of a building, so mutilated that it was at first unrecognizable." They showed the remains being carted away. Elizabeth burst into tears. She did not understand. Who could have done this and why? Why had Dresle never come over the night before?

Will came back within fifteen minutes. He saw that she had been crying. "I'm so sorry," he said, putting his arm around her. "Listen, I just want to take a little blood. I can test it at the lab. I just want to see if there's anything unusual."

She let him take a vial of blood.

"I hate to leave you alone, but I have to test this sample while it's still fresh. You wait here, okay? And rest. You can't do anything for Dresle by going out or making yourself worse."

She did not have long to rest, however. Not long after Will left the police came knocking at her door. They allowed her to get dressed before escorting her to the police station. She threw up in the car and they had to stop; and once at the station they put her in a wheelchair because she was too dizzy to walk. They asked her endless questions, even putting her under a lie detector test. After some control questions, they moved to more pertinent questions.

"Where were you last night?"

"At my apartment."

"Did you see Dresle, or any of the other Vellorians, there?"

"No, I don't … I don't think so. I don't remember."

"You don't remember?"

"No," she said, puzzled. "Not that I recall."

"We have evidence that she was at your apartment last night."

"Really?" she said. "What evidence?"

"At what time did you arrive last night at your apartment?" the questioner asked, ignoring her.

"Well, I'd been in all day, pretty much. I went out for something to eat around two but I was back by three."

"In the afternoon?"

"Yes."

After the polygraph test was over, she was sent into a room to talk to an investigator.

"Am I in trouble?" she asked as soon as she entered, "because if so I'd like to talk to my lawyer." And as she said it, she burst into tears.

The inspector was a middle-aged man with greying hair, wearing a suit and tie. "You are not in any trouble," he assured her. "I'm so sorry we've had to question you at such a difficult time. We're just trying to figure out where Dresle went after she left your house."

"But – she wasn't at my house," said Elizabeth, sniffing. "You can check the security cameras in the hall outside my apartment. They'll show you –"

"We have checked it," said the inspector gently. "It shows Dresle arriving at your apartment around 7 p.m. Soon after, the other Vellorians arrived, and they all left together several hours later."

"Well, you should ask them, then," said Elizabeth, confused.

"We have. They're completely devastated by this attack, as I'm sure you can guess. They parted from her soon after they left your apartment last night and never saw her again."

"I don't understand," said Elizabeth, trying not to cry. "I don't remember that. I remember working on my translations – and then I must have fallen asleep. I thought I just had too much to drink."

"They tested your urine. No sign of alcohol or barbiturates. And the polygraph says you're telling the truth," he said.

"Who did this, then?" asked Elizabeth.

"That's what we're trying to discover. You may have seen on the news, beside the body was spraypainted the symbol of the Double A. S. – the Anti-Alien Society."

"So you think it was one of them?"

"We're investigating it, yes. The Vellorians are very upset that this has happened despite all our precautions. Laufa has agreed, however, to continue to work on renewable energy with the Atlas Corporation."

Something uneasy stirred in Elizabeth's stomach as she heard Laufa's name – it was as if part of her dream had come back to her – and yet she could not name the uncertainty.

"Don't worry – we'll find whoever did it," said the inspector.

"Thank you," she said.

By the time she got home it was afternoon. She saw she had missed several calls from John, but she was too weak and ill and sorrowful to call him back, so she merely texted him, letting him know she was all right. She sat and watched the news in a sort of stupor, unable to take it in. Dresle couldn't be dead. This hadn't happened. Hadn't she just seen her at Christmas? Dresle had been reading Doomsday Book. No, wait, she hadn't told her that at Christmas. Maybe before? Had she talked to her on the phone about it?

Laufa was being interviewed live on TV. His voice and face were grave as he spoke. "We are, naturally, devastated by this loss – the tragic death of one of our own is the last thing we expected from the human beings who took us in and have been so kind to us. We will do all we can to help you locate the murderer. In the meantime, we ask that you respect our privacy as we mourn this irreparable loss."

He seemed sincere, and yet for some reason Elizabeth felt there some something phony about his whole stance – the sad eyes and the grave manner. She was so confused about the whole thing. Dresle had been over last night? All the Vellorians had been over? Why could she not remember it? Could someone have tampered with the security footage? But why would they have done that? The urine test said she hadn't had any alcohol. Why could she not remember?

She felt sick. She lay down the couch, curled up on her side, afraid she was going to throw up again. The news continued with its details about the tragedy. Dresle could not be dead. She was so young, so vibrant, so full of life. Elizabeth couldn't stop herself from crying. She did not understand. What was going on? Why did everyone she loved die?

It was thus Will found her, soon after.

"I came earlier, but you were at the police station," he said. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks. "I don't understand," she said. "Who would do this? And why don't I remember?"

"I don't know why anyone would do this," Will replied. "But I think I have an idea as to why you don't remember."

She looked up at him. "Really?"

He nodded. "I ran some tests on your blood. It's taken all day but I think I finally found it. I believe you were injected with a drug – one that could possibly have made you lose your memory."

"What?" she said, disbelieving.

"There are metabolites in your blood that still indicate the presence of a drug."

"What are metabolites?" she asked, for the first time that day distracted from her grief.

"Metabolites are a chemically-modified break-down product of the original substance." At her confused look he continued. "The drug – whatever drug that was in your blood – has been broken down, or modified, by the liver and kidneys; and what's left is the metabolite. It means I could find traces of a strange drug still in your blood."

"But I do take some drugs," she said. "Anti-depressants."

"It wasn't any of your normal meds," said Will. "This was something entirely different. I think you were drugged last night."

"Drugged?" said Elizabeth, shocked. "Impossible."

"Not necessarily – if the Vellorians really were here and you can't remember it. That would explain the nausea and dizziness. I think you should go to the hospital."

"No, absolutely not," she said. "I don't want to be poked, prodded, and questioned any more. I just got home."

"But, Elizabeth, this could be dangerous. If there's an alien drug in your bloodstream –"

"Well, it's not there anymore, though. You said so yourself – those metabolite-thingies are all that's left."

"But we don't know what other side effects could come of it. If memory loss is one side effect –"

"But why would they drug me?" asked Elizabeth. "And why would Dresle let them? What happened to Dresle?" She looked up into his eyes searchingly, as if he could provide her the answer.

"I don't know," he said softly. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth."

She put her face in her hands.

"Is it possible…" began Will slowly after a moment, "that they found out about your translation work?"

"No," said Elizabeth. "Not even Dresle knew. I was careful not to tell her – I knew how upset she'd be."

"But you remember working on that last night?"

"Yes. It's right here, on the computer. I was running different scenarios." She got up to turn on the computer. "Hmm… I must have closed it." She clicked on the folder but it was empty. "That's strange," she said. "I'm sure I saved it here." She checked in some folders, then set the computer to search. No Files Found read the screen.

"What? That's so weird. It's okay, I have it on my handheld too."

She picked it up where it lay on the side table, pressing the touchscreen, but all the files were erased.

She began to panic. This couldn't be happening – not after all her work. She ran over to the desk where she kept a microdisc. "I save all my work onto it," she told Will as she opened the drawer; but it was gone. "Help me find it," she begged him, and began ransacking the house in a sudden fury until she was so dizzy that she nearly fell. Will took her by the shoulders and led her to the couch.

"It's gone!" she gasped, weeping now piteously. "They must have taken it. That's why they must have come last night."

"Are you sure?" said Will. "How could they have known?"

"They know everything," Elizabeth sobbed. "They know … they see. They must know what happened to Dresle. But why would they protect the murderer?"

"I don't know," he said.

"Wait a second!" She jumped up so suddenly that he gasped.

"What is it?"

She ran to her purse. "My notebook!" she cried. "It's still here!" She brought it back over to show him. "I've been working on it in here. They must have not known that I have a notebook I work in. They must have assumed I don't know how to write by hand. Dresle knew of course. You see – this is what I figured out about their script. It will take time to remake on the computer, but I think I can do it, with this."

"I think you should call Secretary Liam's office," said Will. "This is very important. Not only have they given you some kind of drug, but they erased – or thought they did – all your work on the language. They must be hiding something."

"I don't know." Elizabeth sank back into her seat, suddenly depressed. "I mean, what can he do? He can't bring Dresle back."

"No, but maybe you can find justice for her," said Will. Elizabeth did not answer. "I think maybe I should stay with you tonight. You shouldn't be alone. I'll just camp out on the couch."

"Would you, Will? That would be great. I appreciate it. I don't want to be alone."

As she slept that night, she dreamed of Dresle – that night when they had gone to see her sing in concert. But now she looked like an angel, with wings and a halo. And as she sang, she slowly lifted her wings and flew up to heaven.

When she woke the next morning, she felt physically completely better. She had lain in bed until she cried herself to sleep; but she had slept nearly twelve hours. Will was in the kitchen with hot coffee and breakfast. Her depression lifted slightly at the sight of him.

"I hope you slept well," he said. "Your director called and left a message. He says you're on paid leave for as long as you need."

"That's very kind of him," she said. She took a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would fight off the blackness that was hanging over all her thoughts. "Thank you for the breakfast," she said.

"No problem. I have to go to work. Are you sure you'll be okay by yourself today?"

She nodded. "Thank you, Will. For everything."

He smiled, pressed her hand, and then left. It was only after he was gone that she noticed the bouquet of flowers he had left for her on the table. Yew for sorrow. Sweet pea for tender memory. Rosemary for remembrance. Red poppy for consolation. Dark crimson red rose for mourning.

Tears sprang to her eyes. She remembered now what Dresle had told her. Will loves you, you know. It was all in that bouquet he sent you. She sat down and did not try to stop the tears that overflowed. Dear God, she prayed in her head, what do I do now?