He angrily flicked a spider off the yellowing white wall and accidently squished it, leaving a brown smudge with spindly legs hanging from it. He chose not to look at it. The mashed-up spider made him feel queasy.
Expelling a long drawn out sigh, he shook his head. He should have known it was all going to end up in a mess. He just hadn’t realized how messy it could get.
Witnessing a murder certainly hadn’t been part of his plan. Sure, he’d told himself at the time that the man must have got up and walked away on his own, but he knew that wasn’t possible. The man had been dead. There was no explanation for the disappearance of the body.
Parklon felt guilty for running away before the police arrived, but since he was an immigrant, calling unwanted attention to himself hadn’t seemed like a good idea.
It’s not as if I could help the guy. He was dead, and then he vanished.
Of course, guilt and karma had no doubt followed him home that night because nothing had gone well for him since then.
The nagging guilt returned. He really should do something about the body. The problem was that he didn’t know where to begin.
Seriously, what would I even say? ‘Hi, I’m an immigrant, and I saw someone die. I tried to call for help, but chickened out and ran away because the body went missing’.
That probably wouldn’t get a very friendly response.
There was also the fear, which he hated admitting to himself. That night had scared the hell out of him, and the fear had followed him all the way to his new home. Ever since that night, he’d had a sinking feeling in his stomach. The sensation wouldn’t go away, so he ignored it as much as he could. After all, Zoolafs didn’t get scared, and he was a proud Zoolaf.
He continued to stare out of the window, searching for dark corners and shadows in the sparkling city streets. There was something malignant out there, and even though he refused to admit it, he knew he had to find out what it was and put a stop to it.
Amelia Norris stared blankly at the ferret-faced detective while he babbled words at her. What she heard made no sense anymore. It was all jumbled and empty of meaning.
“We found your husband … dead … no suspects … we’re sorry for your loss.”
It was all meaningless now that her husband, Daniel, was gone.
She nodded numbly when the detective told her to call him if she could think of anyone who would want to harm Daniel, and she closed the door after the police left.
She couldn’t feel anything. It was as if the world had disappeared, and she was the only survivor in the wasteland that remained.
It had all happened so fast. One day, Daniel had been there, and they’d been happy. She had never once imagined a life without him in it. They had bickered over the silly things that really meant nothing, but had been so certain that they would never be parted. She’d never once considered what it would be like to be alone.
She sank to her knees behind the door and began to cry silent tears. Her heart ached in her chest, her throat closed up and she couldn’t breathe.
He was really gone. After all this time of hoping, waiting and expecting him to breeze into the house with an apology for being gone for so long, the hard truth that he was never coming home again hit her with full force, leaving only shock and emptiness in its wake.
How can I go on? What will happen to me now?
She knew she should get up and move on with her life. She needed to keep going. It was what he would have wanted, but how could she move on when her insides hurt, and all she could see now was a dark and empty future?
Where should I go? What can I do without him?
She stared into space. Shock and fear mingled together inside her. She could see his face clearly in her mind. If only he was here to answer the million questions. If only he was still here, she wouldn’t be so lost.
She curled into a ball and hugged her knees to her chest. She had to focus, and she had to think about what lay ahead for her now.
She had been protected while he was with her, but now she had nothing to keep her safe. The house, the money, it was all in his name. She didn’t even know if he’d made a will. They’d never discussed it. It had never been a concern for them. They were both young, still in their thirties. There hadn’t been time to worry about the future. Life was just beginning for them, so they hadn’t thought much about how it would end.
She sighed shakily as her breath came out in painful hiccups.
They’d met in Maklaw seven years ago on a hot balmy day. He’d been visiting the colony as part of his duties as a political diplomat. She’d been living there, a native of Maklaw. She’d been swimming in the sea when he walked past her on the beach, and their eyes had met, his green and hers golden.
There’d been warmth in his eyes and his smile. That had been the first thing she loved about him. They shouldn’t have met. It was a strange twist of fate that had brought them together. They were from two completely different worlds. Everything had been against them falling in love, but it happened, and it had been perfect. She never regretted a moment of it.
A cynic might say she married him for his money or his passport, but she had never really cared for money and had loved her poor colony of Maklaw, regardless of its horrific poverty and brutal politics.
Maklaw was an innocent place, timeless and unjaded by the rest of the world. No, Amelia had married Daniel Norris for love and had been happily in love with him until the day he died.
Of course, there had been legal problems. He was a High Chancellor of Derobmi, therefore only allowed to marry another Derobmi. Luckily, he’d found out about a top-secret experiment on pigment changes in skin color, so they had married in secret, and she had changed her skin color to green.
She’d worn green contact lenses for her eyes, dyed her hair to blonde, hidden her true identity and become his wife. All her paperwork was false. Her whole life was a lie to the outside world, but none of that had mattered when she was with him. He had been her home. Wherever he was, she had belonged.
Now he was gone, and she was alone and scared. She didn’t know how to go on without him. She couldn’t go home. Even her own family wouldn’t know her now. There was no going back once you changed your skin, but how could she stay here without his help?
What if they find out who I really am? I’ll be expelled from the colony.
Then there was Daniel’s work. He’d helped so many people relocate to the safety of Derobmi over the years, providing them with new identities and new skin. What would happen to them now, who would keep them safe from expulsion?
She rocked back and forth. Where could she go, what should she do? Was she safe? Were the ones who killed Daniel coming for her next?
She couldn’t go to the police. She couldn’t go home. A part of her didn’t care what happened to her anymore. Without Daniel, it all seemed so empty. She rocked back and forth, staring into space, hugging her knees and crying over her loss.
Charlie Hawthorne was a bundle of nerves as his father’s limo headed toward Rebecca Lawrence’s house. Rebecca was perfect and everybody loved her, from her little pink shoes to her mother’s pearls.
Charlie was reasonably good-looking, but with no extra cool genes, he wouldn’t have stood a chance. Luckily, his father was ridiculously rich, which had leveled the playing field.
His father was the owner of the Pleat ‘n’ Polish dry cleaning franchise, which was a massive global industry. His father was amongst the richest in the colony.
Charlie had inherited his father’s receding hairline and bulbous nose, but had yet to inherit his fortune because Mr. Hawthorne senior stubbornly remained a healthy man.
Charlie had been trying to interest Rebecca in a date with him for months, and it was only recently that she had paid him any attention at all.
When she had finally agreed to a date, he had gone all out to ensure she came back for date two.
He’d booked dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town, a silver service place ow
ned by a celebrity chef from the Citna Islands. He’d borrowed his father’s limousine to pick them up, and he had bought two tickets to the Grandeur Opera House to see a play.
At the end of the night, he’d planned to have the limo drive them to the lake, so they could watch the stars with a small picnic of expensive treats and champagne.
It had taken him a lot of time and effort to prepare a date that would impress Rebecca, and he had planned every minor detail to perfection.
He wiped his sweaty palms on his designer black trousers.
Come on, Hawthorn. Get a grip. This has to go perfectly.
He glanced out of the window at the line of suburban houses, trying to focus on impressing Rebecca. He’d been feeling a bit ill for the last few days, but he wasn’t going to let that get in his way.
He frowned when his skin heated up and beads of sweat appeared on his brow.
What is this? Am I getting a fever?
He swiped his forehead with the back of his hand. It was burning hot.
No, no, no, this can’t be happening now!
He’d dreamed of this date for weeks. Now was not the time to get ill.
His muscles ached as his body burned up inside. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, fanning his face with the opera tickets.
This can’t be happening!
He moaned as his vision blurred, leaning back into the plush leather seat while trying to breathe. His skin felt as if it was on fire, and he found it impossible to breathe.
Oh god, it hurts so much.
He writhed in agony, trying to ignore the pain and fight through it. He was determined to have this date, even if it killed him.
After a few minutes of intense agony, the burning sensation abated. He shook his head and sat up in the seat while loosening his collar.
What the hell was that?
He tried to remember what he was doing here, but there was only a fuzzy memory of a date in his mind.
Oh man, I really can’t be bothered with girls right now.
He glanced out of the car window, noticing Rebecca standing by the roadside. She looked very pretty in her pink dress. Her mother’s pearls sparkled around her neck, and her blonde wavy hair blew around her face in golden wisps.
As the car slowed down, he grimaced.
He flipped on the intercom to speak to the driver. “Dude, don’t slow down. Keep going.”
“What?” the driver seemed surprised.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
The driver shrugged as the car accelerated.
Charlie watched Rebecca’s smile drop as the car sped past her, her expression changing to one of outrage when the car hit a puddle and splashed muddy water onto her cute pink shoes.
With no feeling at all, he watched her chase after the car, shouting something after it.
He rolled his eyes and turned back to stare out of the window. Girls were too much hassle, and he really couldn’t be bothered with it all. He knew he’d wanted this before, but now he just wanted to chill out.
“Where to?” The driver’s voice echoed through the intercom.
Charlie just wanted everyone to leave him alone. Even the driver’s voice was nagging at him.
“Take me to my father’s building,” he said, hoping to avoid any more questions or hassle. He just wanted to chill out. Answering questions took far too much effort.
After leaving the car and breaking into his father’s offices, Charlie found the quietest place was sitting on the roof, dangling his legs over the edge and staring down at the sidewalk a hundred feet below him.
No one knew he was here. No one really cared. He didn’t even care anymore. The wind blew much harder and colder up here. His skin prickled with goose bumps, and he shivered uncontrollably, but his expression never changed.
He felt like a blank slate with nerve endings and all the usual Derobmi physical traits, but like an empty shell. He couldn’t feel any emotions.
Without feeling anything, he glanced across the city. All he could feel was utter defeat, and he didn’t even care about that.
He didn’t know why he felt this way, so empty and uncaring. It had just happened, and afterwards nothing had seemed important anymore.
He’d been so excited earlier. The hottest girl in school had agreed to go out with him on a date.
The shocked look on Rebecca’s face as the car had sped by had no effect on him. He hadn’t reacted when the accelerating car had splashed mud from the gutter onto her cute, pink shoes. He hadn’t felt anything when he saw her angry expression in the rear-view mirror. He didn’t find it funny, as some people might have. He wasn’t upset that he’d offended her. He just didn’t care about any of it.
He watched the sun set with no feeling for it one way or the other, and he thought about nothing while he sat under the stars.
He glanced down at the sidewalk. Life was boring and pointless. It was stupid really. There was no reason to keep on living. He should just kill himself and get it over with. Luckily for him, it seemed like a lot of effort, and he was too depressed to bother, so he chose to sit there instead.
Much later, he was found still sitting there and was dragged off the roof by his father, who had taken him straight to the hospital.
Carla had sensed something was out of place when she first came home, but she only realized what it was when she walked into the living room. In the armchair, sitting in front of the television, was Joe. At least, she presumed it was Joe.
His thick blond hair hung in greasy strands over his eyes, and his dark green freckles, which usually stood out brightly, were now fading. His proud stance was gone. Now, he slumped aimlessly in the armchair, staring ahead of him like a zombie.
“Joe?” Carla frowned as a shiver trembled down her spine. There was something wrong with this picture.
He didn’t respond, so she nudged his shoulder with her hand. He blinked once before blankly staring at her.
“Are you okay?” she asked, unsure of what to do.
He shrugged, and then turned away as he looked back toward the blank television screen.
There was definitely something wrong with him. Usually, he was her perfect brother, loyal, protective and a straight ‘A’ student. Although, in her opinion, he hadn’t had an original thought in his entire life. Today, he didn’t seem anything like the brother she knew.
He was docile, uncaring and listless. She’d never seen her brother do nothing before. He usually tried hard at everything, even being captain of the school Jimble team. There weren’t many people who’d put an effort into running that stupid game, but he did.
Jimble was a game that was crafted around people hiding and someone seeking them out. If they were found the ‘seeker’ would shout ‘Jim’ at them, and then run away and hide. It wasn’t a particularly interesting sport to watch, but Derobmi won the World Jimble Tournament every year as no other colony competed.
Joe was about eighty per cent muscle and twenty percent mind. He remembered many things and was full of information, but it was useless information, because he never used it to do anything. She adored him, but most of the time, she just wanted to slap him into some kind of action.
Today, he didn’t seem like Joe at all. Something was clearly wrong with him.
“Mom, you’d better come in here.” Carla called out toward the kitchen. “I think something’s wrong with Joe.” She could hear hysteria bubbling in her voice.
Her mother walked into the room, smiling until she saw what had become of Joe. She took one look at the greasy-looking teenager that Joe had become, and her jaw dropped open.
“Joe!” she cried, trying to get his attention. “Joe, what’s wrong?” She ran over to him.
Joe didn’t react to the noise. He didn’t display any signs of recognition at all. Even when his mother tried to lift him from the chair, he didn’t react. He just limply sat in his chair.
“Carla, help me!” Emily snapped while trying to make him stand up.
“What’s wrong
with him?” Carla asked, feeling a bit silly trying to lift a muscle-bound boy out of an armchair. “This is ridiculous! Joe, stand up and stop messing around.”
“Don’t wanna,” Joe said tonelessly.
“Mom?” Carla glanced at her mother, who’d finally given up attempting to move him.
“I don’t know. He was fine—a bit quiet, but I thought he had the flu or something. I told him to take a few days off school and rest, but he wasn’t in this state this morning when I started cleaning the oven. What’s wrong with him?”
Emily turned to Joe. “Honey, tell me what’s wrong.”
Joe explored the contents of his left nostril with his index finger before wiping his finger off on the clean arm of the couch beside him. He didn’t take his eyes off the television screen.
Carla had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Her mother let out a gasp beside her. She turned just in time to see her mother swoon as her skin paled.
The front door swung open as Herb Mainston chose that moment to return home from work.
Carla glanced up to see him enter the room, narrowing her eyes at him. She really hadn’t been looking forward to him returning home.
He caught his wife in mid-fall as she fainted.
“Oh, son,” he cried, as he dropped Emily on the emerald-green carpet and dashed to Joe’s side.
“What happened?” he asked Joe.
Emily groaned and got up from the floor, revived by her short fall.
Joe blankly stared at them both.
“What will we do, Herb?” Emily worriedly asked her husband.
“Do you want to have a game of one on one?” Herb pathetically begged Joe, completely ignoring Emily, which was pretty easy to do once you got the hang of it.
“Don’t care,” Joe muttered, his eyes never leaving the television screen.
“We could go to the track and run a couple of laps together,” Herb said, desperately clinging to his son’s shoulders.
Science Fiction and Fantasy Box Set 1: The Squishies Series Page 8