[The Game] Lazarus Juice

Chapter 20

'We don't stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.'
- George Bernard Shaw

Press play

Cardenio, Dublin. Present Day

Cardenio system initialising, standby. Standby. Log-in. Password. Logging-in. Thankyou. Welcome to the Cardenio system, Director. The date is May 27th 2009. News feeds loading. Cardenio Recovered Artefact Database loading. 21 items recovered and logged since you last logged in. Image feed loading. Agent Status Updates feed loading. Gabriel is M.I.A. Ryuichi is foostering in the basement. Melissa is in 18th century Nova Scotia. Amanda is on the bog. Kiko is reading about Norman Weiner's Cybernetic loops and the invention of the computer mouse. Rob is stalking himself in 1984. Victoria is M.I.A. Dave is chasing whaling fleets in Japan. Pierre is having twins. Gabriel is M.I.A. Michael is M.I.A. The Director is sighing and wondering what to do next.

Angel Pub, Islington, London, January 1791

Michael had never been good with hangovers. At the best of times he was a pathetic post 'the night before' type, moaning and groaning, frequently found lying on a floor, seemingly close to death and bleating for a priest and a doctor. But this was different. This was a hangover on a scale he'd never really thought possible. A headache like an earthquake, a stomach that felt like a bloated corpse had crawled up his arse, a tongue that felt like a roll of carpet and a throat that actually seemed to have been sandpapered all added up to make him look, smell and feel like the most miserable wretch that had ever imbibed an alcoholic drink. Add to this the fact that he was stuck in late 18th century London with two time-travelling freaks who now expected him to lead them into another jump - to God knows where - and he was beginning to feel, perhaps for the first time since this entire farce had begun, that he might not be able for it.
'I want to die' he moaned miserably.
'Okay' said Victoria, 'there's only one way to deal with this: Lazarus juice'
'Lazarus juice?' Gabriel asked, looking up from the flickering display on his pocketwatch screen.
'Remember that time in Istanbul? With Steve the Greek and the cross-dressing priest?'
'Yeah?' Gabriel said uncertainly.
'Well, you remember when Steve needed to wake up that prostitute who'd been drinking and smoking weed all night and he whipped up some brew and chucked it down her throat?'
'The one with three nipples?'
'Yeah, her'
'Oh yeah. Steve stuck a funnel down her throat and poured it into her'
'Exactly'
'Wonder what ever happened to Steve?'
'Ten years for exposing himself to a minor'
'Wow'
'Anyway, we need some of that'
'Need what?' Michael asked, his bloodshot eyes making contact with hers.
'Michael. Just for futture reference: drinking an entire bottle of absinthe is never really a good idea whilst fiddling with the fabric of the universe. It tends to make things messy. Now stay there for a few minutes and I go get this sorted for you'
She walked out of the room and made her way downstairs. Whilst she did Gabriel sat down opposite Michael and shook his head in despair.
'Don't say a fucking word' Michael moaned.
'Wasn't gonna...'
'Uh huh'
'So, what did Claudia have to say for herself?'
Michael laughed, instantly regretting it as the shudders made him feel nauseous. 'You say that like it was real. It was just a dream'
'You sure?' Gabriel asked. 'Sometimes dreams can open time-rips'
Michael looked at him carefully. 'Seriously?'
'Yep - I'm not saying that everything you experienced was 'real' in the strict sense of the word, but I'd put money down on the fact that she had a dream about you too and is currently sitting somewhere in time, wondering what the hell that was about.'
Michael thought about this for a moment, the sensation of her skin against his coming back to him in a flash; her smell, her warmth. A memory swum up through the fug, bursting to the surface with an effect that made him shudder from head to toe - Claudia, winking at him, her expression an image of perfect childish misbehaviour. Michael breathed deeply.
'I dunno man,' he said, 'she was very friendly like. Not her normal self'
'She didn't try to hit you?'
'Quite the opposite. She was almost affectionate'
'That'll piss her off'
'Yep'
They both went silent, Michael sliding back down to a lying position. Gabriel returned to tapping away on his pocketwatch screen, trying to get a solid signal. Enough to send a message back through the loop to let Cardenio know that they were ok. Nothing. Several minutes passed and Victoria returned. In her left hand was a large tankard, frothing at the brim. Michael eyed it suspiciously.
'What is that?' he asked.
'Best you don't know' Victoria replied. 'Drink it' she said, offering the vessel to him.
Slowly, as though he expected the thing to erupt at any moment, he raised the lip of the tankard to his mouth and, closing his eyes, scrunched up his face. As the first drops touched his tongue, Victoria leaned over, pinched his nose closed and used her other hand to up-end the tankard into Michael's mouth. 'Down in one' she said, grabbing hold of him as he squirmed like a child. Half of it seemed to slop over the front of him but ten seconds later the tankard was empty.
Victoria took a step backwards, Gabriel standing up from where he was sitting. Judging by the look on his face, Michael seemed to have drifted out of consciousness, his eyes fixed forward, staring, bloodshot and crazed. After a few moments, his mouth opened, a look of the most intense anguish and horror overcoming his face. A single tear rolled down his cheek. Suddenly, seemingly filled with the fury of hell itself, he leaped off the bed, burst through the open door and took off down the hallway with both hands clasped to his throat.
Gabriel and Victoria exchanged glances as they heard the privy door almost torn off its hinges and the sound of an ungodly scream erupting from within. Some seconds later, when the screaming was reaching a pitch which could wake the dead, they heard the sound of a head being plunged into water, submerged howling, fists pummeling off a wooden surface, bubbles gurgling on the water like a frenzied jacuzzi and a final, ungodly wail of agony as a head resurfaced, gasping for air.
'Tabasco?' Gabriel asked.
'Marmite' said Victoria.

One hour later

'You understand' said Michael, holding up the now empty absinthe bottle from the previous evening's revelries, 'that I have literally got no idea where this will spit us out, right?'
Simply holding it was making him feel like throwing up again. There'd been a goodly deal of that in the last sixty minutes - wretching, heaving, screaming, moaning, dunking in water and puking. The only reason he didn't throw up again, Michael found himself reasoning, was because it was literally impossible at this stage. There was nothing left in there. He was pretty sure that he'd puked up something that had been in there since the late 80's. He put the bottle on the table.
'I hear ya' said Gabriel.
'How you feeling?' Victoria asked.
'Like I want to die'
'Sounds about right' she said.
'Listen' Michael said, 'I have no idea where this is going to put us, but I'm convinced now that this is not arbitrary'
'What do you mean?' Victoria asked.
'Just that I know it seems random - where we keep ending up, but its not'
'This is because of what Claudia told you. In a dream...'
'No. Not just that' Michael said, 'if you look at where we keep emerging, there is a slight pattern to it'
'Which is?' Gabriel asked.
'London. Since we got lost, all of the locations have been in London. I mean, I know they're random as hell, but they are all in London'
Victoria nodded. 'Yep, they are. But to figure out how to get the hell home, we need a pattern better than that. It's not that unusual to get stuck in a link-loop based around one city or country, but this is weird. I can't make any sense of why we're ending up where we end up'
'Me either' Gabriel added. 'And I'm bothered by the fact that we can't get a signal at all. That's downright weird.'
Michael nodded. 'There has to be a connection between the places we've been ending up. I mean, first we come out in the 14th century in the South of London, right? The Road to Kent. Then we get Whitechapel in 1888. Next it's Islington. There has to be a link between those three places'
They looked at each other, each hoping that the other would have some magical explanation. None was forthcoming.
Victoria shrugged. 'Shall we make a move? Maybe another location will suggest something to us'
'It better' said Gabriel.
He nodded, and placed his hand on the bottle. Michael winced and motioned for Victoria to do the same. She did. Exhaling loudly, Michael brought his hand down on top of theirs. And they jumped.

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