Fringe has finally saved its last universe of discourse , and Walter Bishop has made his last dose - fueled discovery . But if you ’re still craving more Fringe , then here ’s some adept newsworthiness — a blade fresh novel tells the story of an adventure that Walter had with his fellow , William Bell , back when they were new . And here ’s the first chapter !
interference fringe : The Zodiac Paradox by Christa Faustcomes out tomorrow , and we ’re excited to be able to feature the first chapter , exclusively at io9 . Here ’s the prescribed synopsis :
In 1974 , University students Walter Bishop and William Bell essay an exotic chemical compound , attempting to link their subconscious minds . The termination is beyond all expectations — a rip in distance , opening the way of life between two universe . Through the rift comes a menace unlike any our earth has ever reckon , and it falls to Bishop , Bell , and their ally Nina Sharp to stop him .
SEPTEMBER 1968
He liked to kill the young homo first .
Not because he was afraid of an act of revenge , or gallantry . This particular kid was a cocky minuscule bastard , build up around the ho-hum , stumpy blonde in the passenger seat like he owned her , but he ’d be no match for Allan ’s higher-ranking forcible strength and genial acumen .
They never were .
No , Allan Mather would stamp out the young man first because he want to show the light-haired that no one could salve her . He want to give her time to live inside that terrible moment of understanding before she meet her own , inevitable end .
Just thinking it , about sharing that special , intimate moment with a novel daughter sent a prime of high temperature over the surface of his skin , warm the cool barrel of the Whitmer 9 mm he had tucked into the waistband of his faded tiredness pants .
It was an unexpected Indian summertime nighttime , probably the last hot night of the class . Yet there was just this one machine . Just this one couple . When Allan first started hound here , a popular make - out spot like Reiden Lake would look like a drive - in on a Saturday night . Dozens of railcar , all packed with sweaty human vermin , extend shallow promises in exchange for meaningless animal copulation .
Now the cocky kid ’s souped - up ‘ 66 Edsel Lynx was the only vehicle park at the eastern scenic overlook . Which show just how cocky he was — and how stupid his date was . Because the “ Lover ’s Lane ” slaying were all over the papers , and anyone with a lick of sense would have stay home . It was almost like they wanted to be there . Almost like circumstances .
A pair of new graduate students sat side by side on a rough outcropping at the westerly boundary of the lake , a little open cooler at their feet and a brand young red Coleman lantern cast a blue-blooded glow across the rippling water supply . The autumn night was bracing , but comfortable .
The one on the left hand was sporting skip and well habilimented , his dark hair neatly combed into a mathematically perfect side part . Tall and rakish , he had a strong profile and a bass baritone representative that made everything he say seem heavy and significant . specially to female undergrads .
The one on the rightfield look like an unmade bed . With his long , frizzy , light brown hair , he might have been mistake for a stylish British rock candy star , but in reality he only looked that room because he could n’t be bothered to reduce or comb it . His clothes , on the other deal , were square and schizophrenically whimsical . A moth - eaten tweed Norfolk jacket that might have been new in 1929 , have on over a handwriting - me - down athletic shirt featuring the name of a Catholic high school he never go to . His pants were too short , revealing wildly mismatched air sock , one solid brownness and the other bright racy argyle . Both of his scuffed garb shoes were undo .
“ Listen , Belly , ” the one with the mismatched socks order . “ While your argument for the inclusion of caffein to offer an extra generalized arousal of the smoke is both well sound and valid , I would forestall that the unique balance between phosphoric acid and citric acid in grape Nehi will better complement the biosynthetic ergoline chemical compound in our new excogitate pharmacologic launchpad . ”
“ Forget it , Walter , ” Bell replied . “ I ’d rather drink Denatonium Benzoate than grape Nehi . Besides , we must stay uniform in what we use as a supplement , so that the determination will be accurately measurable . ”
“ Fine , ” Walter say . “ I reluctantly capitulate to the El Salvadoran colon selection … this clip . ” He grab a bottleful of RC Cola from the cooler and popped the cap . “ However , I want it on record that I felt it was not the ideal combining . ”
“ Duly noted . ” Bell removed a midget vial and a capped syringe from the inner sac of his sport pelage . “ We ’re going with the common five hundred microgram , ripe ? ”
“ Right , ” Walter replied , lead a swig . “ The dosage also must remain consistent , so that any observable differences in the effect will be intelligibly attributable to edition in the formula . ”
Bell nodded , uncapping the syringe and thrust the rubber top of the flyspeck vial . He tipped the vial upside down and suck out the correct quantity of the clear liquid . Walter held out his Costa Rican colon , and Bell inserted the needle into the neck of the bottle , squirting the contents of the syringe into the fizzy potable .
Walter balanced his bottle on the careen beside him and opened a second cola for Bell . Bell dosed it like the first , and then exact the nursing bottle from Walter , pocket the ampul and syringe .
Walter raised his nursing bottle .
“ To paraphrase the great German physicist Max Born , ” he say . “ ’ Here ’s to work up our road behind us as we continue . ’ ” He frowned and looked out over the moody urine . “ Or maybe that was Donovan . ”
“ L’Chaim , ” Bell respond with a crooked grinning , tinkle his own bottle against Walter ’s .
Walter nodded , and they arise the bottles to their lip .
The sky above Allan ’s foreland was starless and white , like the white-haired , dead screen of an unplugged idiot box .
The still aerofoil of Reiden Lake was the sky ’s twin , just as dead .
Once the young humans and woman were dead , the tableau would be utter .
Allan ’s night vision was already superb — sharp and clear , almost like that of a nocturnal brute — but now he was beginning to see and try thing even more clear . The trees whispered , confab behind their crisscross branches . The copious , loamy scandal seemed to breathe under Allan ’s boots , and shadow were gathering behind him like timid kid . The acid he had drop down was just bulge to plain in .
He ’d calculated the dose so that he would be peak mighty around the time when the murder was complete , and he ’d returned to the safety of his own hidden car to bask in the afterglow , relishing and relive each perfectly executed moment . He kept a notebook in his glove box , and that ’s where he would compose his next larger-than-life letter for the local newspaper , line the kill in glorious detail and taunting the hapless authorities .
If he was favorable , he might even get to watch the discovery of the bodies , and the investigation in process . That was his best-loved part , watching the police and their piteous , ineffective flailing . It was like watching insects drowning in a gob of his saliva .
It was time .
He was ready .
He draw in on his gloves , then slid the gun from his cincture and strode purposefully over to the passenger- side door of the Lynx .
The windows were down , and an infuriatingly threadbare soda pop song was ripple out of the radio . The girl was wear down an unflattering , sloppy flowered mark wearing apparel that calculate like she ’d borrowed it from a maiden over aunt . Up nigh , it was exculpated that her blond bouffant was a cheap wig . Its coarse , man-made texture was profoundly disturbing to Allan ’s chemically enhanced thinker , reminiscent of dead dirt ball legs and forsake cocoon .
The shadows around his ankle joint coin up a high- pitched keening . Something was unseasonable .
Run , the shadow cried .
The girl change state toward him in atrocious , unnatural dull motion and he was frozen , riveted , unable to bet away .
“ Police , ” she said . “ Drop your weapon . ”
There was a gunslinger in her thick , haired manus . She was n’t a girl at all . She was a piece . A police officer . And so was her cocky date . Both of them were asterisk him down with steely eyes as cold-blooded and professional as the bores of their guns .
He was the one who ’d let himself get too cocky , and now he would have to compensate for his high-handedness .
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