Nate
This is a story I began writing when I was still at school. I
was writing it at first on my typewriter, then on the first PC
we ever got. It's never gone beyond this stage, though at a
later date, when I get the plot worked out more thoroughly,
I may well revisit it.
The fire burned slowly in the corner. The old one in the large arm chair uttered few words, the
occasional murmur, as he scanned through the document. The younger, taller man shuffled
uneasily by the window. He gazed out into the barren landscape, horrified by the ghastly sights that
met his eyes.
The abandoned vehicles, the empty parks, this was no longer a city of angels, rather one of devils.
Los Angeles was never the perfect example of the American Dream, the street gangs, the violence
and poverty. The largest city in the US, now only a few hundred people remained. He was one of
them, a lucky one perhaps, he didn’t think so.
The old man looked up, a grim smile on his wizened face.
“You sure you want this?” he asked. The sudden remark returned the man’s attention to the room.
“Do I have another choice?” he replied placidly. The old man had to laugh.
“No.”
“Okay then, where do I sign?” Both men looked at each other and smiled. As the youngster checked
the file of paper laid out on the desk, the old man leaned back in his chair, took off his reading
spectacles and breathed deeply. He was getting too old for this, surely a younger man should have
taken his place. He sighed heavily, this caused the other man to look up.
“Something the matter?” he asked, a touch of concern in his voice.
“It’s just the pointless nature of our situation. I’m starting to have doubts about anyone up there,”
with this statement he looked up and gave another sigh.
“Don’t worry about it, if we were ‘saved’ for a purpose it will probably become clear soon. It’s just a
matter of time.”
The two men were engaged in conversation for an hour or so. They sorted out a plan of action for
the younger man, who thanked his elder and left the room. As he did so, a sly smile reached the lips
of the old timer.
“You don’t know what you’ve let yourself in for,” he murmured

Chapter One

Nathaniel Tre Ferguson was born near Denver, Colorado in 1979. His parents were a couple of
middle-class Americans, his mother a shop-clerk at the local store, his father a respectable doctor
at the centre of the community. He had a younger sister named Emmiline, with whom he had
endless arguments, as any normal children would. At high-school he was average at most things,
but with quite a flair for the sciences. His father Al was delighted with this and hoped Nate would
continue in the family practice, following Al’s own father. Nate, as he would be known, did not really
fancy the idea at all. He much preferred the coming trends in genetics. The young boy would spend
countless hours in the local library studying all the latest developments.
At the age of seventeen, Nate was selected for a scholarship to Harvard. His father, now ageing,
was extremely pleased for his prized offspring. Nate explained to his father that he had no intention
of carrying on the routine general practitioner work that had been in the Ferguson blood for
generations. Al, realising that his son must be gifted, reluctantly accepted his choice.
Four years later, Nate graduated. Unfortunately his father was struck ill a few days before his
graduation. Nate was barely back on the plane to Denver when he received a phone call from his
sister. Al Ferguson died of a heart attack, aged 68. His family was distraught; the great achievement
of Nate was put on a back burner while the Fergusons grieved. Nate was deeply frustrated that with
all the new medical techniques and wonder drugs being discovered, they could not save his father.
Majoring in genetics, Nate made a decision to honour his father’s memory by entering medical
school. Graduating near the top of his class, the young doctor had no trouble finding a hospital to
practice in from many requests, home and abroad. Nate’s main demand was to be near his
childhood friend and sweetheart Simone Zakuso, another fresh graduate, this time from Stanford.
This desire led Nate to the melting pot of Los Angeles, California.
The death of his father did not deter the young doctor from his work. Instead it made him work that
much harder, trying desperately to find cures for the world’s diseases. He was quick to contact
Simone and soon they were an item. She helped Nate to find friends, for up until that point Simone
was the only person he knew in LA. After three months at St Andrew Memorial Hospital, Nate got a
chance to travel to South America to take a trip into the wild Amazonian forests. Obviously he had
impressed his superiors, for normally only long-serving members of the hospital staff got the
chance for such a trip.
Nate was surprised but delighted at this opportunity and he had little trouble in the decision. This
was the big break he had been looking for, a chance to experience another place and culture, to
discover the unknown, perhaps even the foundations for vaccines for the world’s diseases. Perhaps
he would make the discovery of the decade, a cure for cancer, maybe HIV or even for the common
cold. Simone was a bit apprehensive at first, but in time she realised that this could really set off
Nate’s career so she eventually gave her blessings.
A few months after his twenty-sixth birthday Nate went to the airport to board the plane bound for
Brazil, and maybe his fortune, something to get him into the history books. After the plane landed, he
and the others who were chosen to embark on this expedition left the airport to meet Dr. Henry
Foster, a biologist working out of Sao Paolo. Foster would act as their liaison between the American
team and the native Brazilians in the cities as well as the jungle.
There were three others in the team. Paul Johnson, an ageing biologist who was interested in the
possibility of discovering many new and wonderful animals and plant-life that were inhabiting the
rainforests. There was a young woman who was a biochemist working under Johnson named
Marie Thomas. The final member was Dr. Foster who joined the party at the small airport from
which they would helicopter to the camp in the jungle.
The hour long flight was spent by the three biologists talking and arguing over what they would be
looking for in the forests. Nate was not very talkative, nor really understanding the finer aspects of
what the others were talking about. He gazed out of the window, wondering what he would find.
The camp was a simple village of mud and wooden huts constructed with the assistance of the
native tribesmen who would supply the scientists with food in exchange for western goods such as
cigars and beer. There were two other scientists who were leaving that day, so Nate moved his
equipment into one of the six huts, while the others also got settled into huts of their which for the
next five weeks would be their home.
Over the next few weeks, Nate would travel from the camp into the forest, leg along the river by one
of the local guides. They would either search out a new grid section, one that had not been charted
by the research centre, or they would go over one of the mapped areas that provoked interest. There
was a generator in the camp that meant the scientists could keep in touch with hospital, so they
could update them with any intriguing findings.

Nate was getting a bit bored with the research. He had not found anything interesting, so his
conversations with the hospital were the only highlight. He had managed to get hold of Simone and
had arranged regular chats. She would inform him of any news back in the States and Nate would
attempt to make interesting conversation, but there was not much for him to say. Whilst Nate had
been in the jungle, he had become good friends with Dr. Johnson and arranged to see him again
once they were back in the US. Therefore when Johnson stopped speaking to Nate in the last week
of the expedition, the young man became concerned.
“Hey Doc J, what are you doing?” asked Nate standing outside Johnson’s hut. The door was locked,
as it had been for the previous two nights. “Can I give you some help?” There was still no answer.
Nate heard the computer whirring. Must be busy on the net he thought. Nate trundled off towards Dr.
Foster’s hut for some tea and their weekly poker game.
“Hello Nate, how’s your day been?” enquired Foster. Nate closed the door and unfolded a chair. He
took his place opposite Foster, one of the natives, Mucao had joined in as well.
“Not too bad, there were a couple of promising plants I’ve kept for study, so hopefully I’ll find
something worthwhile,” replied Nate. He shuffled and dealt the cards, two kings, not a bad start.
“There was something odd though. Doc J’s still in his hut. I swear he hasn’t left it all day. Do you
know what he’s working on?”
“I’m not sure to be honest. We should go and ask Marie, she’s his understudy.”
“Lead the way.”
The two doctors left Mucao lighting a cigarette as they made their way across the clearing to the
female doctor’s hut. Nate knocked on the door and called out to Marie.
“Hey Marie, are you there?” No response. “Marie, it’s Nate, you wanna play some poker?”
Still the hut remained silent. As Nate looked down, he noticed the door was not locked. He motioned
to Foster.
“Shit, there’s something wrong,” cursed Foster. He ran back to his hut and before Nate could say
anything, the senior doctor had returned with a drawn Colt .45. Nate remembered that Foster had
been in Vietnam, working at a M.A.S.H. unit. I’ll let him go first thought Nate as he moved aside to let
Foster through. Nate pressed himself against the hut wall as Foster took up a position opposite
him. Foster peered in through the door, pistol at the ready. He was there for only a few seconds, but
to Nate it seemed an eternity. He was surrounded by the jungle noises. Twenty yards away from him
was the rainforest, in which there were hundreds of living things. By day it was difficult to get used to,
but at night, as Nate was realising, if you were left alone with the sounds, you were petrified. A
sound broke through the buzz of the jungle.
“Nate, come and have a look at this.”
It was Foster. Nate shook his head to concentrate and walked to the door. The sight that greeted his
eyes overloaded his bowels, he turned away and retched. Hanging from one of the roof supports
was the mutilated, defiled body of Dr. Thomas.

Chapter Two

The rain thundered down on the brightly lit street. The cars flew past, the sidewalks were deserted
save for the odd beggar or drunk, sprawling in a doorway or alley. It could have been a scene from
any large city in any corner of the world, but this was the one Jacques Audonnet was caught up in.
He was the only other person apart from the poor wretches who was out in the terrible storm. This
was not his town. He longed to be back in his native France, but he had some business to take care
of first. He looked up at the street sign but had to shield his eyes from the driving rain. Where the
hell am I? Audonnet had been out for three hours. It had started raining a couple of hours ago. He
was soaked through and was becoming numb. His tired and aching legs screamed at him to rest
and by now he could no longer refuse them. His eyes scanned around for a café or restaurant, and
sure enough, across the street was a little coffee shop, which he headed for, dragging his tired
limbs behind him.
“Whaddya want then?” asked the rather portly Italian fellow behind the bar. “You look as if you could
do with some nice hot coffee.” It was nine, and all the regulars were gathered by the bar, mostly old
Italians who had grown up in the neighbourhood. As Audonnet pulled up one of the many stools
littered around the bar, a few of the old men cast him wary glances.
“I’ll have a pot of cappuccino, and a croissant if you’ve got one,” said the dripping Frenchman,
pulling off his coat. As he did so, one of the men turned to him.
“Ah it’s good to see that you like your coffee the proper way,” he remarked, a smile showing his
considerable age.
“Well in Paris that’s the only way to have it,” Jacques returned the smile. The barman returned with
Audonnet’s order.
“A Frenchman eh?”
“Born and bred,” replied Audonnet. He was getting annoyed with the small talk. He looked up at the
clock. Nine-fifteen. Where the hell is he? He was supposed to have been here forty-five minutes
ago. I want to be at the airport in an hour. He’s got twenty minutes. Audonnet started on his
croissant, as he bit into it, flakes fell and stuck to his damp trousers.
Outside the rain was lessening. A deep blue Mercedes pulled up outside the café. Audonnet looked
out of the window. He finished off the coffee, put down a fistful of notes and hurried out of the door,
scooping up his coat on the way. Once outside, he ran to the open car door and got inside. The car
indicated and moved into traffic.

For the hundredth time, Audonnet studied his watch. When the hell are we going to get there? The
car had been taking a number of random turnings and had double-backed on itself many times, all
to determine if they were being followed. In the car there were three people. Audonnet was seated in
the back, the other two were in the front. Neither had turned around at any time during the ride. The
passenger was much slighter than the driver. Hired goons, Audonnet thought. The car pulled over
into a side-street, by now Audonnet had no idea where they were. The large goon got out of the car
first, skirted round the bonnet and opened the door for the contact. He then knocked on the window.
Audonnet looked up. The face was obscured, but he knew this was the time to get out. The three
figures were silhouetted against a lamp hanging from an apartment block. The light it gave was an
eerie pale yellow, which made Audonnet uneasy.
“What do you want Jacques?” asked the smaller man, who was partially obscured by the bohemian.
There was silence. “An answer would be nice Audonnet.”
Jacques sensed the irritation in his voice. Audonnet swallowed hard to get rid of the lump in his
throat. He turned towards the two other men.
“I’ve had enough Robert. I’ve got to get out.”
“Jacques, mon ami, pour quoi?” Robert’s sudden switch to his mother tongue startled Audonnet.
The language used by operatives had always been English.
“It’s my wife and family Robert,” began Audonnet, reverting back to English. “Marie gave me an
ultimatum. I’m sorry Robert, but I love her and she’s the most important thing to me.”
“I’m sorry too my friend, it’s been a pleasure working with you.” Robert embraced Audonnet, who
bowed his head sheepishly and walked back towards the street. “Au revoir mon ami.”
Behind Audonnet, the large man took out a silenced pistol. There was a quiet popping sound
followed by a dull thud as the now limp body of Jacques Audonnet, father of three, fell to the ground.
His brains were now spread out over the alley floor. In the car Robert Jouvier shook his head.
Merd.

Chapter Three

Nate Ferguson stared out of the helicopter window. It was the day after he and Dr. Foster had found
the body. There had been great confusion in the camp and they had received instructions from the
big cheeses at the hospital to finish the trip and bring Dr. Thomas’s body back to the US. They had
packed up quickly, hardly a word being said before they got on the helicopter bound for the airport.
There was one thing that troubled Nate. Doctor Johnson had disappeared. While he and Foster took
down the body, Johnson must have left his hut, because when they went to ask him if he knew
anything, his hut was cleared out and he was gone. What did that bastard want with Marie? Nate
had hardly spoken since the incident and was longing to get back to LA to see his dear Simone.
Foster, who would be returning with Nate to the hospital, was sat on the opposite side of the
chopper, fast asleep. Either he hid his emotions well or he had seen this before, as he appeared
unfazed by the whole ordeal. Nate was badly affected. Marie had been someone only a few months
older than him, she was an honest hardworking girl with a bright future ahead of her, so why should
anyone harm her? Nate felt tears forming in his eyes, he closed them and with the rhythmic whirring
of the rotor blades he fell into a dreamless and troubled sleep.

Ten hours later, Nate arrived at LAX. He had slept most of the way from Brazil to the States, not
wanting to speak to anyone. When he was not asleep, he had been trying to write his report of the
incident. Writing down the details of his horrific discovery had made him nauseous. Luckily there
had been sick bags.
At the airport the expedition as met by a senior member of the hospital. He had explained that they
could go home for the night but would have to be at the hospital the next morning for a debriefing.
Nate was glad for the opportunity to go home and see Simone. He left the airport and flagged down
a cab. Minutes later he was speeding towards his apartment. When he got in the door, Simone
grabbed him and they stood locked in an embrace that lasted many minutes.

Chapter Four

They had the night together before Nate had to go to the hospital and help with the autopsy of Dr.
Thomas. He had hardly slept through the night. For most of it he had embraced Simone tightly,
weeping over the sights he had witnessed over the past few days.
At eight-thirty the alarm went. Simone woke and pushed her silky black hair out of her eyes. There
was no sign of Nate. Slowly, she dragged herself out of bed and draped her night-gown around her
slender shoulders. A yawn passed her lips, which was replaced with a  slight smile as she saw
Nate lying on the floor of their apartment, fast asleep. She turned to the curtains and the light was
allowed in. The sun’s golden beam swept effortlessly across the room, hitting the prone figure of
Nate who rolled over. Simone chuckled playfully and walked into the lounge. She tapped his back
gently with her foot. Nate responded with a groan.
“Hey you, lazy boy, time to get up,” she whispered tenderly. Nate turned over and sat up slightly. The
sun was in his eyes so he looked up at Simone with squinted eyes.
“What time is it?” he asked, rubbing his eyes gently and yawning.
“Eight-thirty, you’ve got half an hour until you have to be at the hospital,” Simone replied as she
walked into the kitchen of their comfortable third floor apartment five minute’s walk from St Andrew's.
“Come on, get dressed and I’ll make you some breakfast. Go on, time to get up.”
Simone walked in on Nate as he sat staring towards the sun, in a mesmerised state. Simone knelt
beside him, wrapping her arms around his rigid body.
“It’s okay baby,” Simone whispered, rocking Nate gently. “It’s going to be okay.”

It was nine-fifteen when the two young doctors walked into the reception of the St Andrews Memorial
Hospital. Built in the late eighties, it was an impressive tribute to state of the art architecture, a
mixture of concrete, glass, and steel that looked perfect in the surroundings but also for the function
it served. Nate kissed Simone goodbye as she headed for her office. Nate had to go to the twelfth
floor and assist the more senior doctors in determining what had happened to Dr. Thomas. He got
in the elevator and pressed the twelve button.

Nate entered the large room at the end of the corridor and saw three other doctors standing around
a large table in the centre of the room. On the table, thankfully covered in white sheets was the
mangled body of Marie Thomas. A tall, bony man with glasses and a receding hairline turned
towards Nate, clipboard in hand and gestured for him to come over.
“Good morning Doctor Ferguson, nice of you to join us. We’d like to start if you wouldn’t mind.” Nate
sensed the impatience in his voice. This was Doctor Redmond, one of the senior researchers. He
was notorious for his strict attention to rules and regulations.
“I’m sorry Doctor-” Redmond cut him off.
“You’ve kept us long enough. Get your equipment and stand ready,” he barked. Nate hurried into the
side room in which the coats and other essentials were stored. He picked up a coat and clipboard
and returned to the main room. The last time he had seen Thomas was when he and Foster had
discovered her body. He was not looking forward to reliving that experience. Nate was thankful that
he was only observing, he was just supposed to take notes and supply any information about the
expedition when he was asked.
Nate could not help but catch a glimpse of the lacerated face. He wanted to look away but he felt
somewhat powerless but to look upon the once pretty face of the young woman. Her hair was
matted with blood and had long since lost its shine. Her eyes once alive and bright were now
nothing more than gaping holes. They had been gouged horribly by the frenzied attack. There were
deep gashes on her cheeks and her face was no longer that of a person, it was nothing resembling
Marie. Nate had to look away and concentrated on writing down what was called out to him by the
three men. He had no idea of the passage of time but when they finally stopped all the cutting and
discussion, it was almost noon. The past few hours had been a complete blur and Doctor
Redmond had to shake Nat in order to get him back to reality.
“Ferguson, it’s finished. Go get yourself some lunch. We’ll reconvene in the boardroom at one thirty.
Try not to be late this time.”
“Yes Doctor, I’ll be there,” replied Nate. He shook his head, took a deep breath and made his way to
the prep-room. He put his jacket back on and headed down to the canteen where he was meeting
Simone.

Robert Jouvier was tired. For three hours he had been sat outside the office of his superiors. The
corridor was not seemingly like an old friend. There was a crack in the beige plaster that ran from
the ceiling almost to the floor. Apart from the crack, the wall was featureless, but still Robert stared
at it, perhaps trying to search for some meaning behind the plaster work, which was now faded
where the sunlight rested upon it. The golden rays streamed in through the smallest of windows
above the office behind him. It supplied token visibility, the corridor was as dark as it was bland. He
leaned back up against the similar wall behind the rickety wooden chair, sighing heavily as he did
so. When are they going to be finished wondered the Frenchman, caressing the stubble on his
rather pronounced chin. He had been called to this meeting the previous night. This meant that he
needed to catch a plane from Boston to Marseilles which played havoc with his body and mind. He
was extremely fatigued but still faced a few hours in a bus before reaching the chateau. When he
reached this office, he was instructed to wait outside until they were ready for him. Thus he sat
down, waiting, contemplating the future he would face.
His thoughts wandered to the previous night in Boston and the fate of his old friend and comrade,
Jacques Audonnet. Robert and Audonnet had worked together for six years in the Organisation, but
had been friend since their national service, five years before he even knew of the Organisation. For
many years they had taken holidays together with their families in the French Alps. Robert realised
that what had happened to Jacques was not his fault. He was acting under orders and did not
approve of the fate that had befallen his friend. It was his own fault, he should never have had tried
to leave, not when we were so close to the Completion. Robert’s train of thought was somewhat
derailed by the door opening to his right.
“It is time now, Robert,” said a strangely disembodied voice. Jouvier turned and went inside, the
door closing abruptly behind him.

Chapter Five


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