The Mind Virus

Chapter 13 - Part 1

Jim should have been feeling like a hero, but instead he felt terrible. It was the thought of saving the suicidal man. In the moments following the event, he had felt almost euphoric. Although he didn't really think of it like that while he was talking the man down, after all was said and done, he'd felt like for once he was making a difference in the world - the very reason he joined the police in the first place.

Now, however, when reflecting back on that memory, all he felt was a sense of disaffection with life. It was a morbid sort of feeling, like he'd be better off dead. It wasn't only that memory that made him feel that way. He hadn't talked to Emma in days. He couldn't. She had tried to call him on his phone when he hadn't come online in a while, but he only rejected her calls. The very thought of her made him feel bloated with sadness and despair. He didn't understand what he was going through, but he knew he needed some time for it to disappear. He also needed to keep himself busy with the present so as to avoid thinking about the past.

It was this desire to focus his attention that brought him to this industrial estate at this time of night. Earlier, when he had gone to the police station to perform his duties for the day, there had been a letter waiting for him in his tray in the office. It was addressed to him by name, but there was no return address on it. He had initially thought that it was something internal - something that a fellow officer had left for him - but upon opening it, he began to have his doubts.

It contained nothing more than the sentences, "I know what you're looking for. Meet me at the following address tonight at 10," and the address of an old car parts factory that had been out of operation since the economy took a dump a good few years ago.

Jim had thus assumed that someone had left it at the police reception and they had put it in his tray, but when he asked the front desk, no one knew anything about it. Checking the CCTV footage would be a futile endeavor as well. Rather, it would be impossible. The entire system had been down for maintenance that day.

He was feeling a little exposed out there. No one knew where he was. Perhaps foolishly, he had opted to not tell anyone at the station about the letter since he didn't know whom to trust. A scared voice in his head had told him that this was a bad idea and not to go, but the investigation was too important, Jim decided in the end. He had to go. A chill ran down his spine as he wondered whether that was a mistake.

The warmth of the day had gone, and a cold wind was blowing. Jim looked around, then at the time on his phone, then at his surroundings once more. The time had come and gone, but no one was here. As he began walking back to his car, he heard a whistle from behind. Turning around to look, he saw a man standing in an open doorway. This wasn't anyone he knew. He was a tall man with a stocky build, reflecting light with his bald scalp. The man gestured with his shining head to come inside and disappeared into the darkness of the building.

The hairs on the back of Jim's neck stood on end, though he wasn't sure whether it was from the ice-cold wind or from the eerie sense of uncertainty that had just taken him over. His phone was hanging heavy in his pocket. Should he call someone? Who would he call? The police? He already knew that there were people within the police fighting against any investigation of the suicides, so that was out of the question. Who else could he call? Emma? He felt once again that familiar feeling of dread as he thought about her. No. Just no. He would have to brave this alone.