Science Fiction and Fantasy Box Set 1: The Squishies Series

by Claire Chilton

  The white board had lines connecting people to the disease with DalsonCorp at the center. The information Parklon needed was on that USB drive somewhere, but it was a needle in a haystack.

  He traced the line from the Kalamarian Secret Service to DalsonCorp. There was a link there too, but the information about it was missing. Bob had called him a month ago and told him about the connection with Kalamar and DalsonCorp, but he hadn’t sent the data, and then he’d gone off the grid.

  He’d tried calling Bob many times and had only got an answering machine. But then, Bob wasn’t working for HQ. He was just on vacation.

  Bob would have made a good agent, though. He had a knack for finding everyone’s secrets. It was just a shame he was off on vacation right now. I hope he stops sunning himself on the beach and calls me back soon with more information.

  Parklon studied the line from Rhecknaw to the disease. Rhecknaw had no connections to DalsonCorp, but Lord Foamy had links to Trell and Rhecknaw.

  It was common knowledge that Carla’s father, Cole Denoir, had released the disease on Derobmi last year, but the disease itself was the problem. Where had he got it?

  It was a form of biological warfare from a different era, one that should no longer be in production. Parklon’s mission was to find out who was making it and why. DalsonCorp was the most likely candidate, but the deeper he dug into it, the more complicated the situation became.

  He considered the information he had for a few minutes, and then rushed back to his computer. He did a search on all files relating to Lord Constanople Foamy in the USB data. Then he waited while it populated the results.

  Several files appeared in the results. They all came from one folder titled:

  PATIENT: EIGHT-FOUR-SEVEN.

  Parklon opened the files. They were all documents for a place called: Haimfield Medical Institute, which was a mental institution that was owned by DalsonCorp.

  He glanced at the address in the header of the documents. The mental hospital was located in Carrow Hill.

  He quickly brought up a map. Carrow Hill was a small coastal town east of Yelrab in southern Zoola.

  He opened the next document. It was doctor’s report about patient four-eight-seven, stating that the patient was delusional and had a split personality. He was being held indefinitely because he was considered a danger to himself and others.

  Parkon stared at the real name of patient eight-four-seven with wide eyes, Lord Foamy. It can’t be him! He was sent to a maximum security prison in Derobmi.

  There was a photograph in the folder. Parklon clicked on it to check. Lord Foamy looked rougher than when he’d last seen him, but it was definitely him.

  Shaking with anger, he gripped the desk, trying to figure out how Foamy had managed to skip a life sentence. It looked like DalsonCorp had Foamy under their thumb in one of their mental institutions, and that in itself was suspicious enough. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was the best lead he had so far.

  He took down the whiteboard and packed up all his things, leaving the hotel as quickly as possible.

  As he loaded them into the boot of his car, he wished he had a phone. He’d give anything to talk to Carla about this.

  Clenching his jaw, he climbed into the vehicle. Once he had the answers, he’d tell her everything. She was safer not knowing about any of this right now. You’ll see her soon enough, once you know that she’s safe.

  He set off for Carrow Hill, slamming his foot on the accelerator. He wanted this over with soon. He’d been away from the people he loved for too long already.

  “Where to?” the taxi driver asked.

  Carla peered at the driver as he glanced over his should at her. He had navy-blue skin with deep lines in his gaunt face around his spooky pale blue eyes. He didn’t look very friendly.

  She had no idea where to go. She’d only thought as far as getting here. She hadn’t really planned where she was going to stay. “Er, can you recommend a good hotel?”

  “Do I look like a tourist information center?” the taxi driver snapped.

  She began to wonder if the legendary Zoolaf friendliness was just a myth. She noticed a big poster in the window of the railway station, advertising the Alba Court Hotel. She mumbled its name to the driver.

  The car lurched into life and jerked as it sped off at high speed. She gripped the back seat for something to hold onto. She’d been shivering ever since her arrival at Reeb Railway Station, and the cold terror from the jolting taxi ride wasn’t making her any warmer.

  So far, her adventure hadn’t got off to a great start. She had stood outside the station for quite some time, wondering what to do next. She had realized that Zoolaf had a much colder climate than Derobmi once the boat docked. She should have known really, it was far north of her country. But for some reason, it hadn’t crossed her thick skull to pack a jumper.

  She sighed. She hadn’t done any research about the place she was moving to. The boat had docked in the major port town of Yelrab, which was about forty miles from the capital city of Reeb.

  When she got off it, all she’d thought about was seeing Parklon. Idiot! He doesn’t even know you’re here.

  She knew Parklon lived in the capital city of Reeb, so upon arrival at the Yelrab port—on the south-east coast of Zoola—she had caught a short train ride to Reeb.

  She shook her head at her stupidity. She had only paused to think about her destination when she had arrived at the capital. Then she’d had the dilemma of trying to work out what to do next.

  She glanced out of the window. The area near the station was scary, messy and desolate with drab gray buildings lining the streets, which at six in the morning, were mostly devoid of people.

  Litter blew down the road in cold gusts of wind, and the image of a happy place full of adventure faded away with the gloomy realization that she had moved to a country she knew absolutely nothing about.

  For some reason, she’d expected Parklon to find her at the station and take her to a safe place from there. It had been a stupid dream. He didn’t even know she was here.

  She stared out of the window of the taxi with a bubble of panic rising in her throat. She wasn’t even sure where the car was going.

  Reeb appeared to be a large city with lots of bars, and clubs and restaurants. In the pictures she’d seen of Reeb, it had looked exciting and kind of neon. But it was beginning to sink in that all the brochure photographs had been taken at night. During the bright morning sunlight, the place was drab and grim.

  The taxi lurched over a speed bump, and her head hit the roof of the cab. She rubbed her head, wishing for a seat belt. Apparently, they weren’t a necessity here in Zoola.

  The car came to an abrupt halt, and she jolted forward, slamming into the seat in front of her. She rubbed her shoulder—which had taken most of the impact—before peering out of the window to see the Alba Court Hotel.

  The architecture of the hotel was old and interesting with lots of curved shapes and turrets. The taxi driver hurried out of the car, throwing her bags into the street.

  She clambered out to rescue her luggage, grudgingly paying him for an awful ride. He certainly isn’t getting a tip.

  He grumbled something foreign at her before jumping back into his cab and zooming down the road, leaving thick gray smoke in his wake.

  She coughed exhaust fumes for a moment before picking up her bags. She turned toward the hotel, hoping it wasn’t going to be a nightmare too. Her arms ached as she stumbled toward the large double doors. She was so tired of dragging her bags around.

  She entered the hotel and glanced around the plush lobby. So far so good.

  She entered the large, dimly-lit foyer, eyeing the long reception desk at the far right. On the far left of the room was a wide staircase.

  She relished in the warmth of the hotel as she passed by large, opulent leather chairs and sofas, heading for the reception.

  Soft lighting created a cozy atmosphere in the large foyer. Her feet sank into the
plush red carpet as she dragged her suitcase behind her, which was now thankfully silent and moved noiselessly over the thick carpet.

  The blue-skinned Zoolaf behind the reception desk smiled at her. The receptionist’s white teeth seemed to glow.

  Carla smiled back. “I’d like to book a room, please?” she said.

  “Of course.” The bright white teeth flashed at her again. “A double?”

  “Yep, that’s fine,” Carla said, wondering how much this was going to cost, but worried that asking would make her look cheap.

  “Would you like a room with a view or one of our suites?”

  Carla didn’t know what the difference was. “Er, a suite sounds good,” she said, as the receptionist flashed another blinding smile.

  The receptionist slid over a card for her to fill in and handed over the key to room two-hundred and one. “Just take the lift to the second-floor.”

  Carla ticked ‘prolonged stay’ on the card because she didn’t know how long she would need the room, and then she signed her name.

  She handed the card back, took the key and smiled before turning and walking over to the lift.

  She was a little worried about money. It was her first time staying in a hotel on her own. At sixteen years old, her only experience of hotels had been on family holidays. She had no idea how much this was going to cost, and she only had one month’s wages to pay the bill. She shrugged as she pressed number two in the elevator. I should have enough money for this.

  When she entered her suite, she gasped in awe. It was beautiful. It had a lounge area with a bedroom and a large bathroom. She closed the door and sank into the leather couch in the lounge with a big smile on her face. Now this is something I could get used to.

  On the coffee table in front of her was a thick leather folder with ‘Welcome’ inscribed on it in gold letters. She picked it up and flipped through it. It had hotel menus, local events and lots of useful information. She smiled as she browsed the pages.

  Her smile faded to a grimace when she saw the tariffs page. Her room was going to suck up all of her money in a few days, and that was if she didn’t eat anything. Oh, shit!

  “This brochure should answer all your questions, Miss Harrington.” The desk clerk handed Rebecca a brochure with ‘Romantic Minibreaks’ emblazoned on the cover. She nodded and smiled at the clerk.

  “Thank you, this will be perfect.” She turned to leave and froze. Her eyes widened when the lift doors opened and a purple girl walked from the lift into the hotel lobby.

  What’s she doing here?

  With venom in her eyes, she watched the purple girl walk to the hotel entrance. She crushed the brochure in her hand as anger burned in the back of her throat.

  She shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t right, not now when everything was going so well. Finally, life was perfect, and then bloody Carla Mainston had to show up to ruin it all.

  She watched Carla leave the hotel and decided to follow her. She won’t be here for long, if I have anything to say about it.

  Carla stared up at the glass skyscraper with wide eyes. It seemed to go up forever. The words ‘Scientific Institute’ were emblazoned across the front of the building in large chrome letters.

  This is where Parklon works now? No wonder he didn’t come back to Derobmi.

  Gritting her teeth, she steeled herself for whatever she would find here. She tugged the hem of her coat to smooth it out, trying to ignore the fact that she was underdressed for such a corporate setting, wearing only her scuffed jeans and a fitted jacket.

  She walked through the main doors and glanced around the vast foyer. Her sneakers squeaked as she crossed the marble floor, heading toward the six glass elevators that were behind the reception area.

  She paused at a big sign listing the departments on each floor. She looked at the sign to see if Parklon was listed on it. On the seventeenth floor, there was a P. Eldemf, Head of Biological Defense.

  What the hell? He was working on disease control last time she heard from him. What’s biological defense?

  She headed straight for the lifts. At the seventeenth floor, the doors opened into a corridor lined with offices.

  She wandered down, looking for a door with Parklon’s name on it. She had a feeling that she wasn’t supposed to be here unannounced, but she didn’t care. She needed to find him. Isabella wasn’t answering her phone and neither was Bob. Judging by her finances, she didn’t have much time to waste if she wanted to find them.

  She stopped outside the door marked: ‘Head of Biological Defense - P. Eldemf’.

  She knocked lightly, and the door swung open. She blinked at the scene before her before widening her eyes.

  A girl wearing an insanely short kilt and bright red leggings was making out with a man in a suit on top of the desk.

  Carla had a good view of the girl’s backside. She watched it wobble while the girl squirmed on top of what she assumed was Parklon.

  “Ahem,” Carla said dryly. THIS is what Parklon has been doing?

  The girl yelped and jumped hurriedly off the desk. She had multicolored hair that was made up with a combination of pink stripes, green stripes, red stripes, and navy-blue roots. Her t-shirt said ‘Rock Chick’ on it, and she wore a studded choker around her neck.

  Her face was pretty, and she had catlike eyes, which created a naturally sly expression on her face. Right now though, her expression was changing from shock to relief.

  “Thank gawd! I thought you were the boss,” she said to Carla.

  Carla tried to ignore the jealousy and hate stirring in her belly. She instantly disliked the girl. She glanced at the man on the desk, expecting to see Parklon’s face.

  Shock and relief followed when she realized that it wasn’t him. It was a blue guy in a suit, but it wasn’t Parklon. Her jealousy faded away.

  “Are you er, P. Eldemf?” she asked the man.

  “What? No. I’m in the wrong office,” he mumbled, rushing past Carla and out of the door.

  “See ya, Bex.” He glanced back and winked at the rock chick before he departed.

  Carla had no idea what she’d walked into. She examined Bex. What’s she doing in Parklon’s office?

  “Umm, do you know where Parklon is?” Carla asked Bex.

  Bex sat on the desk and idly swung her legs. “He’s off at a conference at the moment. Can I help?” she asked while her eyes sized up Carla.

  “Do you know how I can get hold of him?” Carla was starting to feel a bit desperate.

  “Sorry, babe, he’s incommunicado until he gets back, and he didn’t tell me when that would be. He just told me to take his messages.” She twirled a pencil in her hand. “I hope you won’t tell him about er, what you walked in on? I really need this job.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Carla sighed and then pondered her options. “So you’re his secretary?”

  “His temporary assistant, emphasis on the temporary,” she replied. “I’m Bex, by the way.” She waved once as if she was wiping away fresh air. “…the happy temp that all the boys love.”

  “Hi, I’m Carla.” Carla smiled at Bex’s carefree attitude. “…the totally stuffed tourist that all the boys disappear on.”

  “Ohh, you and the big boss man?” Bex asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

  “What? Oh, no! Maybe I’m just a totally stuffed tourist. I was hoping Parklon could help me out.”

  “What’s up?” Bex asked.

  “Well, I need to crash at his place, and I need to talk to him pretty urgently,” Carla said.

  Bex twirled her pencil again, appearing deep in thought. “Well, I can’t get hold of him yet, but I might be able to help you crash at his place. He left me his keys to keep an eye on the apartment, but I’ve been too busy to drop by—y’know, social stuff.” She winked. “But that could work. You can crash there, and keep an eye on the place for me at the same time.”

  “That’d be perfect!” Carla thought about it for a moment, and then she frowned. “You don’t think he’
d mind me staying over, do you?” she asked.

  “Nah, it’ll be okay as long as you aren’t an ax murderer or something.” Bex laughed. “I’ve seen your picture on his desk enough times to know you’re a close friend.” She winked. “Anyway, if you two have been bumping hips, and he does mind—tough!”

  Carla was about to deny the hip bumping, but Bex cut her off before she could.

  “I’m stuck at work until four, but drop by here tonight at about ten, and I’ll have the keys for you.” She handed Carla a flyer for a club called Demons. “We can snag a few cocktails on our way over to the apartment.” She winked.

  The large white façade of the Haimfield Medical Institute loomed up in the windshield of Parklon’s car, as if it were a ghost rising in the dark sky. He slowed the car and stared at the house to get a better look at it. Then he steered down the long winding driveway toward it.

  Four white pillars at the front of the building supported a large porch, which overshadowed the steps up to the front doors. The steps to the entrance were wide and stretched the width of the building. There were a dozen windows on each floor, which were small and dark, each secured by ominous white bars.

  The front lawns stretched the length of the driveway on either side of the road and leafless trees lined the entrance, their spiky, black branches twisting out toward the curb. It was late, and the sky was dark, creating twisted shadows that moved as the trees shivered in the cold breeze.

  Parklon pulled up in front of the building and shook off a feeling of impending doom. It’s only a mental institute.

  He got out of the car and picked up a briefcase, straightening his fake glasses while he tried to get into character. He locked the car and headed for the main entrance to the building. When he got there, he tried the door. It was still open for visitors. He pushed it open and walked into the building, heading down a plush corridor to a reception desk at the end.