Chapter One
GH Morgue
"Stavros!" gasps Laura as she looks into the mad, raging eyes of her eldest son. Nikolas’ mind does not seem to register his mother’s harsh voice as his wide, brown eyes stare unseeing through the body standing in front of him. His pale, sunken face is covered with dried streaks of blood that are starting to rehydrate with the sweat that repeatedly drips down his cheeks. A fat drop of sweat falls into his eyes, and he does not feel it or blink.
By now, Laura is seriously scared both for herself and her son who does not even seem like Nikolas anymore. Something about the wicked, cruel aspect of his eyes reminds her of merciless days and nights spent with a madman on an isolated Greek island far away from Port Charles. She tentatively moves closer to him and reaches out a hesitant hand to lightly grasp his arm. She recalls seeing him tear out of the men’s restroom on the second floor and her decision to follow him. "Nikolas," she says. "Why are you in this room? What has happened to you? Nikolas? NIKOLAS! Answer me!"
Nikolas does not respond to his pretty, blond mother, but he flinches slightly when she touches him and backs away slowly until he inadvertently bashes into the cold, steel rows of bodies efficiently stored away in identical, gray metal sliding drawers. His left hand snakes out along the orderly, steel rows, feeling his way along the wall, moving closer and closer to the gurneys that line the left side of the cold room.
Laura looks quizzically at Nikolas. What is he doing? she wonders desperately. Why can’t I seem to reach him? Laura’s breath dries up in her throat, choking her as she rattles out a small, raspy cry of fear when she sees the two exposed bodies on identical, white-sheeted gurneys. One is the body of an old, emaciated man, face collapsed without the addition of his dentures. The other is a very still, pale young girl with blood covering her slender neck and soaking through the bodice of her blouse. Something is familiar about the color or texture of her long, brown hair. Laura’s hand flies up to her mouth as she backs away from the horror. Not taking her eyes from the grisly sight, she frantically searches with one hand in her purse for the cell phone that she knows is nestled in there somewhere.
Nikolas is now at the side of the gurney containing the body of the dead young woman. He grunts lowly in almost a crooning sound, softly stroking the bent arm of the girl. Laura shakes in terror and looks on with guts churning as she rapidly hits the tiny, illuminated numbers on her phone. By now, Nikolas has decided to join the young girl on the gurney, and he effortlessly swings a leg up and hops onto the temporary resting-place of the murder victim. He slides up the body and pushes it to the side as he lies next to her. Pulling her onto his chest, her head peacefully rests next to his still-beating heart. Nikolas strokes her hair gently and makes the same low grunting sounds, the only vocalizations he’s made since Laura entered the morgue. Laura’s lips start quivering and tears flow as she observes the great pain that her son exhibits through his bizarre behavior.
"Stefan!" she anxiously cries as the voice at other end of the line says firmly, "Cassadine." Stefan is currently camped out in his GH office, fending off reporters swarming the hospital in search of an exciting story about the new Ebola-type killer virus that was unleashed in Port Charles by none other than Helena Cassadine.
"You’ve got to come down to the GH morgue right now!" she shouts. "It’s Nikolas. Make sure no one sees you. Hurry!" Laura slams shut the cell phone and stands transfixed by the spectacle of her son and his girlfriend.
~*~*~*~
Luke Spencer looks at his watch and wonders why Laura is taking so long. It had been an hour ago since she stepped out of Lucky’s hospital room to get a breath of fresh air and a refill on a cup of coffee. Lucky is in an intensive care quarantine room after barely surviving an attack by a virulent, killer virus. Helena had used him and his companion, Todd Manning, as test subjects before she planned to unleash the virus on the whole town of Port Charles in her own twisted version of Timoria. Stefan had been hot on her trail and procured an antidote from a Russian biological warfare test lab at just the right moment to save the two young men from a certain painful, bloody death.
Luke is wearing a red, protective space suit as a precaution to prevent lethal contamination. He gently strokes Lucky’s hair. "I love you, cowboy. Get better soon for your old dad. You don’t want me to age ten years in a day do, you? Let me see a twinkle of those blue eyes." Lucky continues to sleep peacefully, not responsive to his father’s gentle plea. At least he is resting comfortably after his cardiac arrest earlier in the evening. Luke thought he’d never get over the sight of nine medical personnel working feverishly to save his young son’s life.
Luke moves the tan, twill curtain that separates the room’s adjoining bed. Todd Manning is sleeping peacefully in the bed with 6 units of type-O negative blood transfusing into his veins. It had been touch and go for awhile when the hospital had difficulty locating enough of the rare blood. Luke rubs his aching inner elbow, a reminder of the blood donation he had given the slumbering man. You’re such a prick, Todd, Luke thinks. Why do I even care? I swear, every time I see you, you’re lying flat on your back in a hospital bed. Luke shakes his head and replaces the curtain, moving once again to resume his vigil by his son’s bedside.
~*~*~*~
Mac Scorpio stands over the lifeless, battered body of Helena Cassadine. An unfortunate nurse had just discovered her by the service elevator, the back of her head bashed in and choking red finger marks marring her long, elegant neck. Her ghastly, open eyes stare blankly at nothing. He shakes his head. What a way to go. Who would think that somebody finally did her in? Hope Spencer has a good alibi, he laughs to himself. Mac’s detectives had found trails of blood in the men’s restroom and by the elevators. They were hot on the trail of a violent killer.
~*~*~*~
The door to the GH morgue swings open, and Stefan Cassadine boldly enters the room. He first sees Laura and walks over to her. His eyes follow her frozen gaze, and he rapidly turns away with a sick expression on his face at the sight of Nikolas lying on a gurney with a blood-soaked Emily Quartermaine. Nikolas is carefully working the two edges of the wide gash that separates her throat, trying to make them join together as a whole, but the wound keeps gaping despite his efforts. Never breaking his intense concentration, he occasionally wipes his bloody fingers on his pants, his shirt, and his face. He is covered in smeared blood and looks like a murder victim himself. All the while he grunts and whimpers softly to his dead girlfriend.
When the retching bile settles back into Stefan’s stomach, he tensely whispers to Laura, "What has happened here? Why is our son in this…place…with that…body?"
Before Laura can form an answer on her lips, the morgue door flies open again, this time with a resounding crash as it absorbs the full force of the morgue wall. Lt. Taggert enters the room stealthily with gun drawn, assuming the shoot to kill position and rapidly reviews the crime scene with darting eyes. "FREEZE! Put ‘em up!" he commands the room’s occupants. A haggard-looking Laura and a p*ssed, red-faced, black-suited Stefan raise their hands to the ceiling.
"I said put your hands up, Cassadine!" Taggert yells at Nikolas who ignores the noisy intruder, too intent on fixing his broken girlfriend. Taggert walks purposefully toward Nikolas and aims his gun at his chest. Taggert’s face falls when he sees that the body is Emily Quartermaine. He pulls out his police issue walkie-talkie and tersely orders, "Garcia! Get down to the morgue, pronto! I need backup here." After he is finished, Taggert once again commands, "Cassadine! Nikolas! Put the girl down and raise your hands to the ceiling. Now! Nikolas? Can you hear me?"
Stefan interrupts. "Apparently my nephew has suffered some trauma and needs the attention of a physician. I’ll call one now."
"Don’t move, Cassadine," shouts Taggert. "Slowly take your hand away from your suit pocket. That’s right. Easy now…"
"Lieutenant Taggert! What’s…" Garcia’s words die in his mouth as he takes in the grotesque crime scene.
"Cuff Nikolas Cassadine," orders Taggert. "I’ll cover you. Be careful. He may be dangerous."
"Now, Lieutenant Taggert, I must protest this unfortunate…"
"Stuff it, Stefan," hisses Taggert. Stefan closes his mouth and frowns.
"What are you doing to my son?" Laura demands as Garcia whips out the handcuffs.
Taggert rolls his eyes at her. "Nikolas Cassadine, you are under arrest for the murders of Helena Cassadine and Emily Quartermaine. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"
Stefan and Laura stand there in quiet, numb anguish as their son is read his legal rights. When Garcia approaches Nikolas and reaches for an arm, the boy yelps and hisses at him, futilely waving an arm in protection of his loved one. Garcia swiftly moves forward and captures Nikolas’ wrist into one side of the handcuffs. Nikolas begins screaming eerily at the top of his voice. It almost sounds like a cat in heat. Garcia quickly fastens the other wrist, creeped out by this weird scene.
Garcia roughly pulls the caterwauling Nikolas off of the gurney and away from Emily, but Nikolas doesn’t try to stand and lands solidly on the linoleum floor on his hip. He stays still, lying on his side. "Why are you giving me so much trouble, you Cassadine creep," mutters Garcia under his breath as he drags Nikolas across the smooth floor.
"Don’t hurt my son!" cries Laura.
"A little late for the motherly concern now, isn’t it, Mrs. Spencer," Taggert intones with irony. He reaches for the walkie-talkie again and calls for more assistance. When the next policeman arrives, he and Garcia haul off a wailing Nikolas, as Taggert demands that Laura and Stefan accompany him to the station for questioning.
~*~*~*~
As the unhappy entourage rounds the corner away from the morgue and toward the elevator, a shadowy figure steps back quickly into the shelter of a doorway, cleverly hiding as he takes in the scene. Andreas Andropolis smiles evilly to himself and shakes his head in amusement as he strokes his chin and plans his next move.
Gimme a laptop, dammit!
Silence is golden
Beware the man in black
Bombs away, dream babies…