Strange Reflections

by Jay Mason

  “How do you girls look at yourselves for so long?” said Rusty, stretching his arms behind him.

  “My turn,” said Alex. Rather than being bored Alex found it unnerving staring at herself. At first the question of whether her parting was on the right side absorbed her, but as time ticked away the person in the mirror seemed to become more and more of a stranger.

  “Time,” called Rusty.

  “Whew,” said Alex. “That’s hard. Let’s take a coffee break.”

  They took two more turns each with no effect. “This is pointless,” said Rusty. “For whatever reason, you and I obviously aren’t suitable subjects.”

  “Let me have one more go,” said Alex. “My reflection is becoming more and more like someone I don’t recognise. Maybe I am being affected.”

  Rusty shook his head. “You’re not the type to stare at yourself. Unlike Joe. That’s all.”

  “Last go,” said Alex. “There’s always the chance you’ll get to destroy the thing.”

  “Okay,” said Rusty.

  Alex sat down in the seat opposite once more. This time she put her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. “Who are you really?” she asked her reflection.

  It could be that her eyes were getting tired, but Alex thought the mirror rippled slightly. She was about to tell Rusty when everything changed.

  6. What Lies Hidden

  The face in the mirror had become her true face. Lines of pain and fear were etched into her forehead, a reminder of every session she had ever had with Straker, every argument with her mother, every betrayal by her parents. A woman stared back at her. A woman of at least forty years with dark sorrow in her eyes. Her hair flopped around her face, the curl vanished, and the black of it shot through with white. Alex knew herself as a victim. She thought she had kept her true self hidden — the smart inquisitive girl who empathised with the paranormal, who solved cases and peeled back the veneer of ordinary life. Lies. All lies. A fantasy she had woven to protect herself from the truth. The truth of her suffering. Her eyes wept tears for all the wrong that had been done to her.

  But even as she acknowledged the loss of hope and the harsh truth of reality with grief so strong she thought her heart would explode, there came a rising tide within her. At first it was little more than heat, a warming of her cold, despairing limbs, but gradually it built and as it did so the eyes in the mirror flickered. Slowly her reflection nodded to her. It gave her permission. Now, it said, was the time to seek revenge, to punish those who had treated her so badly. The dark eyes became red. Power pumped through her veins. Alex could do anything. She could tear down the sky to make things right. But first, first of all, she would kill her mother. Staring into the mirror, she reached out a hand to open the knife drawer. The handle of a large blade fit into her palm. Easy. So easy to make things right. To make others pay.

  Should she start with Rusty first? The boy who had jilted her? Who hung around her, using her skills when he wanted, and had no desire for her. Because he thought she was not good enough. Not sexy enough — but how could she be after all she had been through?

  Alex gave a roar, and knife in hand, launched herself at Rusty. Rusty, who had been idly playing with his phone, stared at her open–mouthed, the meat tenderiser slipped from his numb fingers.

  Alex scrambled across the table, negating the distance between them. Rusty froze. Alex raised the knife and drove it down into–

  The table.

  She sat back on her heels. “That was close,” she said.

  Rusty opened and shut his mouth a few times.

  “I was going to kill you.”

  “Why?” Rusty managed to squeak.

  Alex felt herself blush. “You know, stuff. I thought everyone hated me and if I started attacking people I could change the world.” She pushed her hair back from her face. “Weird. I felt so powerful. Like I held my destiny in my hands.”

  His eyes never leaving her face, Rusty pulled the knife out of the table. “I’ll take this.”

  Alex nodded. “Plenty more in the drawer.”

  “Do you think you could get off the table, Alex? Then I can turn this mirror around.”

  Obediently Alex went back to her seat. “I never knew I had that much anger in me.”

  “You felt it was you?” said Rusty, propping the mirror up in a corner with the glass against the wall. “You didn’t feel someone was trying to make you do things?”

  Alex shook her head. “No, the mirror brought up all the things that have ever made me unhappy — sort of made it seem unfair and everyone else’s fault.” She shook her head. “I can still feel it.”

  “And you wanted to kill me? Why?”

  “I wanted to get past you to get to my mother — I wanted to kill her.”

  “Do you still want to do that?”

  “Nah,” said Alex. “She drives me up the wall, but she has her reasons. I’ve sometimes wished she was dead, like you do when you’re cross, but I’ve never meant it.”

  “So your reflection was twisting things?”

  Alex thought for a moment. “Yes, but it was me doing it to myself. I was searching my memories for all the bad stuff and then blaming it on people — people I needed to kill.”

  “Specific people?” said Rusty.

  “At first. But if I hadn’t found them I have the feeling anyone might have done. I was definitely moving towards a kind of blood–lust.”

  “But you stopped.”

  “I must like you more than I realised,” said Alex trying to smile.

  They sat in silence for a moment, considering what they had learned.

  “I’m going to turn on the TV,” said Rusty. “Where is it?”

  “We don’t have one. Let’s try the radio.” She turned on the radio. A burst of static came from the set. She shut it off quickly. “That was supposed to be the local station.”

  “Computer,” said Rusty.

  They both ran upstairs to Alex’s room. Within moments Alex had a feed from the local TV station. It showed a scene of the main street with a gang of people of all ages smashing up cars on both sides of the road. The reporter, a young blonde woman, kept turning during her delivery to see what was happening behind her.

  “She looks scared,” said Alex.

  “I’m scared,” said Rusty, “and I’m not even there.”

  Alex tapped on the keyboard. “Why can’t I get sound?”

  On–screen, an older woman, dressed in an expensive pant suit, wrenched a bin free from its bracket and hurled it through the window of an SUV. A younger man Alex vaguely recognised lay down in the middle of the road and appeared to start clawing at the tarmac in an attempt to eat it.

  “Sure you haven’t called up a zombie movie by mistake?” Rusty said.

  “I think we’d better start fortifying the house,” said Alex.

  Rusty looked at her in alarm. “You’re kidding.”

  Alex pointed at the screen. A number of the car vandals had stopped and were standing immobile along the pavement, staring at the reporter. “Any moment,” Alex said.

  “Oh shit,” said Rusty, getting up.

  Alex caught his wrist. “We’re too far away.”

  The reporter seemed to clock that the mood of the crowd had changed. She faltered in her delivery. As if commanded by an unseen force the crowd in unison took a step towards her. The reporter began to back away slowly, but in moments the chase was on. She held onto her mic, obviously still trying to report. The image jumped and jerked as the cameraman ran beside her.

  The crowd gained. The image plummeted suddenly. It now only showed the advancing feet.

  “He’s dropped the camera,” said Rusty.

  “Or dumped it. He could hardly run with it.”

  A booted foot filled the screen and then it went dark.

  “Shit,” said Rusty. “Oh shit.”

  “Phone your mother and sister and tell them to stay inside and away from the windows,” said Alex.

  “I
should go home,” said Rusty.

  “I know. But even in the car we can’t be sure we’d make it.”

  “So we do nothing?”

  “We hole up. We wait for my dad to come back with news or for those people to–”

  “Tear each other to bits?” finished Rusty.

  “We do everything we can not to become a target,” said Alex. “If this is connected with the Centre I don’t believe for a minute Straker hasn’t got a plan.”

  “You think he’s doing this deliberately?”

  “No,” said Alex, turning off the computer, “I’m betting he has a contingency plan to get things under control.”

  Rusty opened the bedroom door. “First time I’ve ever pinned my hopes on Straker rescuing us.”

  “I know,” said Alex. “But he must have the resources.”

  ****

  Alex was finishing bolting the kitchen shutters when Rusty came back.

  “How are they?” said Alex.

  “Scared, but not affected,” said Rusty.

  Their eyes met in a shared moment of relief. “I’ve bolted all the windows,” said Alex. “Unfortunately they don’t all have shutters. And I pushed the chest against the front door.”

  “Yeah, I noticed when I was on the phone,” said Rusty. “Fear’s given you strength. Pity …”

  “Speaking of whom, do you want to go down and check on them?”

  “No,” said Rusty. “I did it last time.”

  “But what if Joe — you know –”

  Rusty sighed. “Fine. I suggest we keep the lights off or at least very low when it gets dark. If there’s no sign of life maybe any crowd will pass us by. That’s what I told mum anyway.”

  “Good thinking,” said Alex. She reached out a hand to place it on his arm. “I’m sure they’ll be okay.”

  “We should cover the mirrors too.”

  ****

  Time passed slowly. Periodically Alex or Rusty would try the radio or the TV feed. National stations played as if nothing was happening, but the local stations were quiet.

  “Isn’t someone noticing this?” said Rusty. “I mean someone non-local, noticing that all our local stuff has gone dark?” They both stared in disbelief as a national channel anchor wittered on about the gowns actresses had worn at some gala.

  “I’m hoping that means someone is doing something,” said Alex.

  “You mean keeping things quiet deliberately?”

  Alex nodded. She looked at her watch. “Lunchtime. Cheese sandwiches? I don’t feel much like cooking.”

  “Whatever,” said Rusty. “I’m not hungry.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She also managed to say nothing as Rusty ploughed his way through several sandwiches. It was kind of comforting that some things remained the same.

  “The phone lines are fine,” said Alex. “Why don’t you call your family again?”

  “I don’t want …” Rusty swallowed, “I don’t want something to hear the phone ringing and try to get in.” He sat chewing his nails until Alex had to get the first aid kit and plaster up his bleeding fingers.

  “I’ll check my email again,” said Alex. “Maybe Dad’s left me a message.”

  But it wasn’t an email from her dad she found, but from C0numdrum.

  Alex,

  I need you to come to the Centre.

  “Is he kidding?” said Rusty, reading over her shoulder.

  There’s a back road through the forest behind your house that loops round before joining up with the road near Straker’s house. The second will be clear and I can’t think what would draw any of the affected people into the wood. As long as you take care leaving your house that no one is lurking nearby, I think you will be safe.

  “He thinks!” said Rusty. Alex ignored him.

  I would not ask you to do this lightly. It is imperative that we meet.

  When you reach the Centre, tell the guard at the main gate that you have come to see ‘Mr Steel’ and that you have an appointment. I will meet you at the main desk. Do not ask after your father or give your real name. Instead call yourself ‘Claudia Blue’.

  Get here when you can. I will be waiting.

  C

  “Gosh” said Alex. “He’s never suggested we meet before.”

  “You can’t go.”

  “I think I have to,” said Alex. “He wouldn’t ask unless it was necessary.”

  “We know almost nothing about this character except he gets us into trouble.”

  “And out of it. Besides, I have questions only he can answer.”

  Rusty sighed. “I can tell it won’t matter what I say. If you must go I’m coming with you.”

  “You have to stay here because of my mum and Joe — and in case my dad comes back.”

  “Great,” said Rusty.

  7. C0numdrum Finally Explains

  Although she would never have admitted it to anyone, Alex didn’t like the idea of driving alone through obscure country lanes trying to dodge psychopathic townspeople any more than Rusty did.

  She put on a brave face leaving the house, calling Rusty ‘a fussy old hen’, but once she drove out of the driveway, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck go up. “Give me a poltergeist any day,” she muttered to herself. At least it wasn’t dark yet. Although the overcast sky made the lanes more shadowy than usual.

  Alex had an excellent sense of direction, so she had no problem following C0numdrum’s instructions. Despite craning forward in her seat to peer ahead between the tree line, she saw no one. By the time the Centre came into sight sweat matted her hair to her forehead and her back muscles ached from tension.

  She drove up to the guard at the barrier and let down her window. “Miss Blue to see Mr Steel,” she said in as confident a tone as she could manage. The man checked his clipboard, nodded to her and went into the hut to raise the barrier. Alex drove warily through. She only had a vague memory of the time she had been brought here, but following the road towards the main building, she found a set of parking spaces set under some trees a short way from the building. She opted to park there rather than closer to the building in case anyone decided to check her number plate.

  ****

  The shiny glass doors of the Centre swept back with a deliberately audible swish. The reception desk stood immediately behind them. A high, sleek, curving white platform with a glass top. Behind it were three white, ergodynamic, complicated-looking chairs. All of them were empty. Alex spied a small pedestal stand beyond. Her instincts told her this was where a security person was normally stationed.

  She looked up and saw two cameras trained on the front desk. She walked towards the pedestal to avoid them. She waited there for a few minutes to see if anything happened. If no one came she felt she could legitimately walk-in. The last thing she wanted was for guards to descend on her.

  No one appeared, so Alex walked on. She had hoped C0numdrum would be here to meet her. The corridor led past some glass-fronted offices, all empty, before splitting off into three directions. Alex stood at the junction and surveyed her choices. There were no signs and as far as she could see the corridors stretched on into whiteness. She hesitated. Then she heard what sounded like a child’s voice, very faint, but coming from the far right passage. She listened and heard it again. Alex went that way.

  Her soft shoes padded on the polished concrete floor. Following the faint sounds, she walked for what seemed like a very long time. Her heart beat like a loud drum in her ears. This was — familiar.

  The corridor ended in double polished steel doors. One was ajar. Alex noticed a security keypad that should have kept it locked. Taking a deep breath she pushed the door and stepped through.

  Both sides of this corridor were lined with glass. Behind the glass lay bed after bed surrounded by medical paraphernalia. In the beds were children. She stopped outside one room. A small boy of around six met her eyes. His thumb firmly in his mouth, he clutched a lop-eared rabbit. A tube went into his left arm. A televisio
n played cartoons, but he ignored it and stared at her. Alex raised her arm and waved. The little boy didn’t wave back. He simply kept staring at her with wide, serious eyes.

  In the next room an older child, a girl around ten, lay asleep or unconscious, Alex couldn’t tell which. This patient had seven tubes attached to her and a bank of screens displaying wavy lines.

  Alex moved on. She shifted her gaze to the floor. She didn’t want to see the children or what was being done to them. She could taste fear, bile at the back of her throat. Irrational though she knew the thought was, she wanted to rush into the rooms and unplug each of them. She quickened her steps. Soon she heard the murmuring of adult voices. She risked a glance up and saw a lounge-type room where adult couples sat on the edge of their seats, drinking from plastic cups. The parents. None of them paid her any attention. She hurried past. Sweat ran down into the small of her back. She knew this place. She had been here.

  Straker came into the room, his voice calm and gentle as ever. He promised there would be no pain. He promised this would be the last injection. But he always said that. There was always another and it was always painful. But she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t let him see her cry. His false condolences made her nauseous. She would not weaken. She would not let him comfort her. A weak defiance. All she had left.

  The memory came so suddenly, so strongly, Alex folded over in physical pain.

  “I see you remember,” said a voice she vaguely recognised. Alex felt a hand rest lightly on her shoulder. “Look up. You may remember more.”

  Alex straightened and looked into the face of the young man she had met on the set of Joe’s movie last year. He must have loved being an extra. He still had silver eyes and hair. But more than this … she knew him from …

  “C0nundrum? You were here when I was. You were the boy in the next bed. But …”

  C0numdrum smiled. “Your memory is playing tricks.”

  “No, you were there.”