16 Where I’m going?

Alma looked at all three of them and did not seem to understand. She looked at me and her eyes fell. I was lying on the stretcher. There was a slight crease between her eyes. She seemed to not be conscious of it. I turned my head to hide my smile. Maybe it was just a protective instinct deeply buried. The strong protecting the weak, something like that. This girl seemed fragile. Her alabaster skin was so translucent that it was hard to believe that it was a reliable defense against external aggressions. I could see the rhythmic pulsing of her blood in her veins through that skin. It was incredibly frustrating!

I was already in the emergency vehicle, and waiting for it to take the road to the hospital. Too late! I closed my eyes. The smell of blood was in my nostrils and I remembered that I was thirsty. I was lying down and she was very near. I wanted to laugh with anger!

"Let's go?" said the fireman, interrupting the course of my thoughts. I was watching them. "I have saved your life," he said.

While looking at me, she replied "No! Not you! Him!"

And she pointed to me with her chin.

I turned away with relief. There might be hope. Who knows, one day?

The examination room was filling up slowly. I was lying on a bed and waited as time passed. I wished I could sleep. I thought of her. This day must have been very painful for her too. If she was here, I might tell her something. But it certainly would seem silly. Yet she is not here.

"Why should she exist?" my Cartesian conscience reasserted itself. "Why should she ruin the little bit of peace that you had in this life? Why was she born? She wants your death!"

I turned my head. Suddenly an irrational hate coursed through me.

"Why now? Why should you lose everything just because she chose to appear in this silly dream? Why did you find her?" They were endless, the attacks of my conscience. "I do not want to lose the peace I have found at the cost of your life of sacrifice and lies," it continued, unperturbed.

"Do not listen!" said the other, my Functional conscience. "Rest yourself!"

Me? What am I? Then I fell asleep.

She walked down the aisle, approaching my bed. Her fragrance undulated. There was no image violent enough to describe the force of that scent striking me then. I never thought that such an aroma could exist. If I had known, I would have gone looking for it a long time ago. I would have scoured the earth. I was able to imagine it. At this point, there was nothing left of me, no more than an ounce of myself from before. My previous self, the monster, was back. Eyes, hands, teeth - everything had changed. I tried to recover my senses, to touch her, but she went away again, again and again...

"Ah!"

"Are you asleep, sir?" I closed my eyes. I wasn't interested in answering. "Do you feel okay, sir? The doctor on call wants to see you. You know, you fell asleep before we could admit you, you should wake up. I don't know how you managed to fall asleep lying on your back."

I did not look. The voice did not say anything interesting. Yes, I was able to get back in fifteen minutes the two months of anxiety I had. I could still wait, but I preferred to sleep to prevent a blood transfusion. You never know...

"I'll get the doctor, sir. Don't worry, I'll return back with him!" The nurse encouraged me by tapping my arm.

No, I was not worried at all.

For a split second, I was able to think clearly. During this precious second, I saw two faces in my head, side by side. One was mine, or rather the being that I had been: the human monster that killed so many people I had stopped counting. Deaths that were justified by my job. I was a mercenary on the state payroll for over sixty years. The murderer of murderers, the most monstrous of killers. This started from good intentions. I recognized this - I deserve the death penalty at least a hundred times - but then I was undercover. It was a compromise with myself more than with the state. The army was aware of the existence of people like me and usually suggested we integrate its ranks. I fed on human blood, but only from those who were deserving. My victims were in their various pastimes, dark, no more human than I am. The other face was that of Alma. There was no resemblance between them. It was day and night. Alma was not from my race. In my imagination, my face changed, reflected the evolution of these last thirty years during which I had made a choice, and had followed it. I wanted to exile myself, to no longer make war protecting the Guiana Space Centre. My countenance had not really changed, but it seemed that my facial features were marked by wisdom. A little compassion stood out on my lips, and an obvious patience was readable in my gaze.

In my head, Alma's eyes did not judge me. She could not judge what she did not know. She was not aware of me before - the monster - as that was what I am now. Anxiety came over me. In such periods of alarm and anxiety, I rely on my sense of smell more than my other senses. And my nose confirmed what I feared: that girl was wearing the worlds most wanted scent. The smell turned her into an easy prey. Here, where she was not even close to me, I felt as if I sensed her flavor. Her fragrance came over me. I raised my arm, sniffing from crook of the elbow to my fingers, and I felt my nostrils burn. Her smell was everywhere! On my fingers, on my jacket, at my waist where her body was stuck to my own, on my sleeve. I had the impression that it was even where she had not directly touched me.

It was hell... or purgatory, which was burning me incessantly and without mercy! All these feelings were bringing me back to my way of hunting. This was the first warning in case of danger. I never gave the impression of being as dangerous as I really was to others. Persuasion was as strong among those of my kind as it was with ordinary humans. I closed my eyes.

No, it won't get better... not at all...

I reopened them and decided to leave.

"Sir! Where are you going?"