The Chemist

Chapter 25

April 29th, 10:00 a.m. The Upper West Side, New York City

The next morning, they both slept in. Danny awoke first this time. It turned out to be a warm and lovely day after the torrential downpour had drenched the City the night before.

He had never known anyone with such a fragile mental condition. Sure, he had friends who served in the military and had to deal with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but he never had to face someone who experienced psychotic breaks like Kate. No doubt this was a young woman trapped in her own being who desperately wanted to break out of her own skin. He didn't know Vanessa Carrie and hoped that he never would, but could only imagine what abuse she had doled out. Kate's burden no doubt drove her to the proverbial edge. He saw her wallow in despair and loneliness, especially because she had so much potential for success. That hidden beauty she possessed was corroding because of her addiction.

He pondered how she had to deal with her creation, the most deadly nerve gas on earth. He thought of all of those scientists who worked on the atomic bomb project and the excruciating inner conflict. Even the Russian officer who invented the AK-47, the first rapid fire machine gun, regretted on his deathbed that he invented it and that it had been used to gun down women and children. But there also were those who could separate themselves from their deadly discoveries. He imagined the hypothetical red button on a console that the operator was told would kill a million people who he didn't know each time he pushed it. It was vastly different from Special Forces training where Danny learned to kill a man with his bare hands, throwing his entire nervous system into the effort. Even the sound of an exploding grenade had had neurological effects on him, what with the periodic ringing in his ears he still experienced whenever he heard sirens, jackhammers, and other loud sounds. Maybe the inventors would think differently if they knew there was someone else out there in the world with their own red button to press, instantly killing a million people she didn't know. And they sure as hell didn't know Katelyn Carrie.

Behind her surly appearance, she made a noticeable impression on him in so short a time. When did my own lust turn to love? He pondered that one for a while, coming up with no discernible answer, but for him and maybe for many other men, he just had to learn to love the one he was attracted to.

He reached across her, embracing her from behind and kissing her softly on the neck.

"I'm hungry," she mumbled.

He took that as a good sign. "Good. I'll make you some eggs."

When he returned with the eggs, she said, "I want to leave this place. This city, I mean." She then told him about Vanessa's summer home up in the Catskills and that she wanted to take him there. Today.

Acting on her whim, he rented a Jeep Cherokee and the two of them drove up the Thruway until they turned west onto Route 17. For the first hour, they drove in silence. As they left the grit of the City behind, the suburbs turned to rolling hills with igneous rock formations. It was easy to appreciate the change of scenery.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Like a freight train ran over my head."

He reached over and held her left hand for a moment, finding it chilly.

From the county road, a seven-mile long macadam covered dirt road wound its way up to the property. The way was heavily forested on each side as they traveled over several small creeks. One, about a mile and a half in, channeled under the road by a stone masonry bridge. Although narrow, the creek ran under the bridge through a corrugated drainpipe.

They passed several homes along the way but Vanessa's property was at the terminus of the road near to the very top of the mountain. The home, set back at the midway point of a circular paved driveway, was a signature Frank Lloyd Wright split-level light box design a flagstone exterior with a pitched roof.