For John, things had turned interesting again. Miami? Cults? Possibly brain washed wife? Mob connections? With the storm swelling outside he couldn’t help but think the job sounded totally fucking crazy. This guy had money, so why the hell didn’t he just hire someone over there? Was there something he wasn’t letting on?
A week. Taking the job would mean dropping everything and heading for another country, leaving virtually no time to prepare. He didn’t know anything about America, and sure as shit didn’t know anything about cults. Drugs, violence and street crime? Sure. He’d lived it, breathed it. But a pseudo spiritual group, if that’s what they were, recruiting the rich who had more money than brains? Hell, that just wasn’t part of his resume.
“You sure do have an interesting situation Sebastian,” he said with a tone of resignation, “but I just don’t know how I can help you. What you need are people that have experience with this sort of stuff, the kind of experience I don’t have. If you came here telling me your wife got herself hooked up on heroin and was selling her body on the streets, then yeah, technically I could help. If you were being shaken down for money by a gang of fucking scumbags, I’d find you a solution. But the problem you’ve got? It’s a special kind of problem. And besides, you need someone who can hit the air in the next few days. Me, I can’t just up and go. I’m not leaving my cat alone, not for anybody or anything. So I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m not going be able to help you out.”
Sebastian nodded as though he understood. He leaned forward and gently stroked Bobbie’s chin. Thunder rumbled off in the distance.
“You know,” he declared with authority while leaning back, “I’ve found the trick in business and law is to refrain from a decision of gravity until one has had the opportunity to peer at it from all angles. I would hate for you to say no without at least giving it a little thought.” He smiled and clasped his hands together. “I’ve never had the pleasure of owning a pet. I was an only child, and wanted one so desperately but my father refused to have an animal. Later in life, I was simply too busy. Maybe, when this mess is sorted out, I’ll try to change that.” There was a twinkle in his eye. “I’ll arrange it so that Bobbie travels with you, first class all the way. I’ll set you up in a hotel and arrange things so that he has all he needs. As for payment, come to a figure that you believe is suitable compensation and I’ll triple it. If you can reach my wife and convince her to come home there’ll be a bonus that will give you plenty of time to spend with your little friend.”
Damn, this guy isn’t playing. John peered deep into his visitor’s eyes only to find a stern conviction. Of course he could use the money, that was a no brainer, and so thoughts began to dance and beckon. As far as he could tell there didn’t seem to be anything dangerous about the job. Yeah it was short notice, and America was a long way from home, but then again home wasn’t exactly what it once was. He could take Bobbie and get paid to talk with a few fruitcakes. How bad could it be? And even if he could find his wife and she decides she’s not going anywhere, he still gets his money. Now, just as Sebastian had said, he was looking at the angles, and the fact that he wouldn’t have to leave Bobbie behind made things look a little different.
“So what I’ll ask of you is this,” Sebastian continued. “Think about my proposal for now. Look into the things you need to. Consider what I’ve offered. We’ll talk again tomorrow, and if you decide to move forward I’ll have everything arranged straight away. Just tell me you’re taking the no back off the table.”
John slowly stood and made his way to the kitchen, rummaging through one of the drawers until he found what he was looking for. When he walked back into the room he handed Sebastian a faded silver business card with his details.
“Take this, and give me a call in the morning. I still don’t think I’m the right guy for what you want done, but I’ll give it some thought. I’m not making any promises though.”
“That’s all I was hoping for,” Sebastian replied while rising to his feet and heading for the door. “I imagine this isn’t exactly what you had planned for the morning.”
“No, not exactly.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
A dark sky and steady showers emerged as John watched his visitor dash across the yard and disappear along the street. The sound of crashing waves mixed with the slight howl of a cold wind that slapped against his face. For a moment it was almost refreshing, but the moment quickly passed and he slammed the door closed.
As he headed back to his seat he noticed a slip of paper resting on the coffee table. He wiped his hands on his jeans and picked it up. The deep blue cursive was impeccable, the message short and to the point.
Hallucigenia Project. This seems to be their portal. Sorry I haven’t got anything more, but it’s a start. Sebastian.
“What do you think Bobbie?” John asked while sitting down on the floor to scratch the back of his ear. “Is the guy full of shit or should we take his money?”
As if contemplating the scenario Bobbie craned his neck and looked up with almost blind eyes. His jaw slowly opened to release a yawn.
“I don’t know about America mate,” John whispered, “but we sure could use the dollars.”
He leaned back against the sofa and stared out through the window. Remnants of valium in his system tempted his eyes to close, the sound of the storm somehow soothing regardless of the fact that his muscles ached and his head was swimming with the story he’d just been told.
It was unlikely, he figured, that Sebastian’s wife would even talk with him, let alone be convinced to pack up and come home. She’d obviously left for a reason, whatever that might have been. Sitting there on the floor the whole thing seemed like just another love story gone wrong, and he was hardly in the game of fixing broken hearts. Still, he had to admit he was curious. If they really were in love as much as he’d said, what could’ve convinced her to break it off and head to another country? It wasn’t like she was off chasing money. No doubt, he thought, there was probably a whole lot Sebastian hadn’t told him, and probably wouldn’t tell him. Nobody ever put all their dirty laundry on the table, and there was always dirty laundry. That much he knew. And while he had next to nothing to go on, he was willing to bet a tin of deluxe cat food that some sort of cult had little to do with anything. More likely the plot of the tale he’d just been told would reveal a new lover, a plot of the kind he’d seen over and over again.
So what to do? Looking outside he caught the tail of a lightning strike that sent forks across the dark clouds like a neon lit spider web. Knowing there was no need to make a decision straight away he lifted himself from the floor, placed his gun upon the table and fell back onto the sofa. He scooped up Bobbie and placed him on his chest, where he issued a strange noise between a yawn and a stifled whine and collapsed back into a slumber that only cats could capture so quickly. With the collateral damage of the last job still squeezing its way through the pores of his skin he figured Bobbie had the right idea. He had nothing to do today, nothing important anyway. As his eyes closed to the symphonic rises and crashes of the storm, sleep brought with it the return of the devils that insisted on dancing in the shadows as the real world crumbled away.
Chapter 3
When the grip of sleep began to weaken John pried open his eyes to discover it was dark outside. Looking up at the cracked screen of the clock on the wall confirmed he’d slept all day. It was already nine at night, and he found himself fighting the urge to simply drift away again. His head was foggy and, thanks the heater having been left on, condensation dripped along the windows. Bobbie, meanwhile, was still curled up on his chest snoring like only he could.
For the first time in days he could feel a deep rooted hunger begging for attention. He rubbed at his eyes, gently relocated his friend and staggered into the kitchen. The tips of his fingers seemed numb as he retrieved a frozen dinner and brought the microwave to life. Waiting for the timer he switched on the laptop that had sat on the kitchen table unused
for weeks, and when the familiar bell chimed he grabbed a fork, pulled back the steam soaked plastic and sat down at the table.
Now that sleep had left him with a slightly clearer state of mind, the idea of jumping on a plane to America seemed even less inviting than it had when his visitor had made the proposal. Sure it was true that he was in a shit ton of debt, and the paycheque he’d just earned wouldn’t exactly change his life, but there would be another job around the corner. There always was.
But this one could be big.
Whilst they hadn’t actually discussed fees it was pretty obvious the guy had money and was willing to spend it, so why shouldn’t he take the offer before someone else snatched it up? Besides which, the idea that it was just a case of another marriage falling to pieces thanks to the addition of a new lover seemed more certain after a coma like sleep. That meant the element of danger would be pretty minimal, and he’d be paid whether he managed to talk to her or not. Maybe it was at least worth looking into.
Placing Sebastian’s note on the table he began shovelling the almost flavourless pasta into his mouth, with the glow of the computer screen creating short flashes of blue to dance on the edges of the fork. Once the search engine was up he entered the name.
Hallucegenia Project.
With the results spilling across the page he looked through the numerous website links until he found what he was looking for. He figured this cult, or whatever it was, couldn’t be too secret if a simple search could pull it up. Then again, he thought, some of the biggest groups maintained a presence on the web. Recruiting members wasn’t done by letters anymore.
He clicked on the link as he stuffed another forkful of pasta into his mouth and the screen became filled with a satellite image of a slowly rotating Earth. Brilliantly lit clouds appeared almost as snow and were a stark contrast to the deep blue of the ocean and brown landscape that was Africa. He guessed it was a live feed and watched as the continent slowly but surely melted away. Floating from the small speakers was the sound of haunting piano chords, and these were accompanied with rolling claps of thunder and occasional animal cries that sounded to him like whales. So far, he wasn’t impressed. This was it? A satellite camera feed and a soundtrack that belonged in a store that sold crystals?
Suddenly silver coloured text began to scroll along the bottom of the screen from left to right. He scooped up another mouthful of pasta and began reading.
How long is the day in the absent of light… How many branches lie in a seed unplanted… What colour defines death… Where rests the architect of math…
Suddenly a window opened in the top right hand corner and a soft female voice rose above the din of the piano and thunder.
“Welcome to the end.”
The source of the voice appeared, causing John to pause the next fork load heading for his mouth. She was absolutely beautiful. Shining dark hair flowed down upon her shoulders. Brilliant green eyes demanded his attention. A silky red shirt seemed to melt across her sleek shoulders and outlined a hinted at cleavage that was just visible above the edge of the frame. He leaned closer to the screen as an unseen light source illuminated freshly applied crimson lipstick. At least things were getting a little more interesting.
“You might be wondering where you are. But it is not a question of where you might be, but where you must be for the answer to be found. Maybe, just maybe, one answer exists for both queries.” Her red lips smiled and shoulders slowly moved back. “I’m afraid that time is short. Wonderful, terrible things are reaching for us with quick arms. The decision is yours to make. The second meeting, which will be the last, has been scheduled. If the skin you wear is uncomfortable and needs to be shed we can assist with the removal. A new dawn awaits and it requires no sun, just the desire to finish what has begun. Join us, and futility will blossom to purpose. Let go, and be ready to hang on.”
John found himself leaning forward in the chair. There was something about her eyes that left him feeling somewhat unsettled. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but maybe it had to do with the fact that they seemed glassy and unfocussed like pupils after a fresh shot of smack, yet at the same time crystal clear with steeled intent.
The window disappeared. In its place came a digital clock counting down from two minutes. The silver scroll at the bottom now issued a soft warning.
Join us for the opportunity to reshape the human race. Details will be forwarded upon registration. This event is limited and will not be repeated. Welcome to the fork in the road.
John leaned back and wondered what to do. The neon green clock was surprisingly effective and invited a subtle sense of anxiety. Did he really want to click on a website that was obviously dancing on the edge of sanity?
One minute and twenty nine seconds remaining.
Common sense told him there was no damage to be done by accepting the invitation. After all, it’s not like anyone would hunt him down if he didn’t show up to the party. But if he didn’t accept and let the timer run down, would it hinder the job if he decided to take it? Of course, he knew there was a third option. There was a good chance he was looking at a cheap advertisement that would play the same over and over again.
Fifty eight seconds.
What was the fork in the road? He rubbed the side of his jaw. Maybe he should never have answered the damn door earlier that morning. The guy was probably off his rocker, his wife was almost certainly rolling around in another man’s bed, and what he was looking at now made no sense at all.
Twenty two seconds.
An odd wave of anxiety washed over him. The smart thing to do was turn the damn computer off, finish his tasteless dinner and take a long hot bath. His life was crazy enough without going out of his way to add to it.
Seven seconds.
Bobbie brushed against his ankle and he suddenly thought of the vet bills that would come as time marched. As it was he still owed them money.
Three seconds.
Fuck it. No point closing the door. He could still change his mind in the morning.
He clicked the cursor on the screen and watched as it went dark. After a few seconds a digital form appeared, requesting his basic details. Slowly but surely he entered the required information and clicked the submit button. The form dissolved away, and the satellite image of Earth returned. Only this time, it was slowly breaking into tiny pieces that whisked away beyond the edges of the screen, oceans and countries dismantling until all were gone. When all remnants of the globe had shattered and scattered the laptop powered down, leaving him staring at a blank screen with his fork resting in what was left of the pasta.
Well that was interesting, he mused as Bobbie leapt onto his lap, but what the fuck just happened to the power? He pushed down on the button and heard the familiar hum of the hard drive spinning to life. At least no damage had seemed to be done.
Curiosity getting the better of him, he quickly finished his meal and typed in the address he’d just visited as a subtle sense of guilt simmered behind the idea of seeing the woman again. Perhaps, he thought, there’d be a little more to look into. Surely there was some information explaining just what the Halluceginia Project was all about? It wouldn’t make any sense if there wasn’t.
His curiosity, it seemed, would remain unsatisfied. Where before he was welcomed with an image of Earth he found instead simple red text in the centre of the screen.
THIS SITE IS NO LONGER AVAILABLE.
Surely he must have made a mistake, and so retyped the address only to be confronted with the same message. Confusion creased his forehead as he gently cradled Bobbie in his arms and stepped into the living room to grab his phone, returning quickly to the kitchen table and swiping the device to life. Carefully he fed the address bar what it needed and tilted his head as the same message appeared.
THIS SITE IS NO LONGER AVAILABLE.
He knew cyberspace could be temperamental on the best of days, so although it was no doubt odd, the reasons for the page drop off could be many. Hell, it
could even be a sign that the job just wasn’t worth taking. Either way there was no point trying to analyse it. He’d taken a look and was none the wiser. All things considered, it was probably best that he just forgot about the whole damn thing. The night would end soon enough, and when it did he would have to face the broken pieces of his life in the bright light of day. He was physically and mentally tired, and couldn’t see a reason to jump into someone else’s problem. Not for a few days at least anyway.
He draped Bobbie over his shoulder, claws digging into his skin as he made himself comfortable. His legs felt heavy as he opened the kitchen drawer that held the last of his pills, four to be precise. An almost silent curse fell from his lips at the realization he’d have to get another script written, which meant explaining how he managed to go through a month’s supply of valium in just under two weeks. Another broken piece awaiting the new sun.
He threw them into his mouth and stuck his head under the tap to swallow them down. Then for the first time in nearly a week he stumbled to his bed, the blankets having been kicked to the edge of the mattress. Bobbie crawled down to his regular spot and John fell back into the pillow, awaiting the hint of bliss that the pills would bring. He thought of the woman in the video, but her mental reimagining was soon overridden by a replay of Felicity and her recent presence in the house. Even carrying another man’s baby he still cared for her, and that brought a pain that pulsed and bled from deep within his stomach. He didn’t want the emotion, didn’t need to feel it, but there was nothing he could do to get rid of it. Except, of course, when he slid into a realm of sweat and bad dreams where the real world had no place.
Chapter 4
Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the bedroom window like golden swords ready to carve the room apart. John reached up and lifted Bobbie’s paw where it had been resting on the edge of his lip. Traces of sweat remained determined regardless of the morning chill that surrounded him. As he had for some time now, he silently cursed the fact that he’d actually awoken.
The Hallucigenia Project Page 5