by Tim O'Rourke
“Go on, stay for a while,” he said, feeling her softening in his arms.
“Stay where?” Annora said back, searching his dark eyes.
“In the Night Diner. Let me show you its secrets,” he whispered, before kissing her.
Chapter Ten
The year 2067…
Peering through the rain-speckled windshield, Karl pushed his car forward and toward the outpost. He navigated the car through a network of streets. Each of them was lined with shanty-looking market stalls where groups of people stood huddled together beneath corrugated canopies eating noodles and fried fish that they had bought from the food venders. Litter filled the rain-swollen gutters. Much of it was spoilt food, but amongst it, Karl could see the odd chrome limb that had been removed from a Bot that had gone out of service. In fact, Karl hadn’t seen any robots of any kind walking the streets of Outpost 71. It was difficult to move in London City for the sheer number of Bots that undertook most of the work for the humans. Some were so lifelike these days, Karl had often mistaken them for human. He’d heard that in some districts of London City, Bots had been employed as Temporal Officers. Karl didn’t very much like the idea of having his city policed by robots, however human some of them appeared to be. When he had mentioned his concerns to Sergeant O’Neil, she had shot him a wry smile and asked if he truly feared he would someday lose his job. Had he ever raised his concerns with, Annora? If he had, he couldn’t remember doing so.
The traffic was slow moving, a row of dilapidated cars from the last century crawling along the street ahead of him. Rickshaws were pulled through the streets by tired and undernourished children. Karl saw several rats scamper out from nearby alleys and disappear beneath the stalls where food was being bartered for. Karl glanced up at the buildings that lined each street. They looked nothing like the brightly lit apartment blocks in London City. These looked like a mountain of giant shipping containers that had been stacked precariously on top of each other. Surrounding them, and as if holding the giant structures together, were towering columns of scaffolding. Lights shone from within the crate-like apartments. The apartment blocks looked little more than decrepit building sites that should have been demolished years ago.
As Karl peered up at the towering structures that loomed tall on either side of the road, he could see that the air space above the outpost wasn’t lit up with garish and luminous holographic advertisements. Who did the advertisers have to advertise to in such an impoverished looking place? Karl wondered. And as he continued to glance up through the windshield, he wasn’t too surprised not to see a continuous line of hover cars streaming overhead. He knew that such vehicles didn’t come cheap and neither did the upgrades. His old beat-up heap of a car was proof of that.
With his attention still drawn to the slum-like buildings, his car suddenly struck something. Instinctively, Karl yanked back on the joystick, bringing his car to a halt. He’d struck the vehicle in front. Steam and smoke poured out from the back of it in a sooty stream. The driver’s door of the car in front flew open. A giant of a man climbed out. His head was shaved, and what little neck he had was set between two broad shoulders. Rain splashed off his bald head and ran down the length of his disgruntled-looking face as he came toward Karl’s car. He hammered on the hood with one club-like fist.
“Hey, fuck-head, look what you did to my car,” he growled through clenched teeth. He pounded his fist into the rusty hood with such force that Karl was bounced up and down in his seat.
Throwing open his own car door, Karl stepped out into the rain. “Hey, back off!”
The gorilla-sized man eyed Karl up and down. With a smirk and eyes little more than slits, the man said, “And what if I don’t wanna back off? What if I want to rip you a new arsehole for the damage you’ve done to my car?!” He came forward, shoving the sleeves of his tatty coat up his meaty and hairy forearms.
Jeez, this guy really is an ape, Karl thought, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out his badge. As the guy went toe-to-toe with him, Karl shoved his I.D. into his face.
The pissed off guy glanced at it, then at Karl, who was holding his stare. “Is there a hospital in this godforsaken place?” Karl asked him.
A series of creases formed across the guy’s bulbous forehead. “Why do you wanna know?”
“Because I’m going to call them up and ask them to have the emergency room on standby.”
“On standby for what?” The guy’s frown grew deeper.
Karl shot him a grin. “For when I take your sorry, unconscious arse there with multiple fractures and broken bones. But such unnecessary injuries can be avoided if you walk away, get back into your car, and head on home.”
“You Temporal Officers are all the fucking same,” the guy snapped, sneering with disdain, rolling down his sleeves. “You think you’re all so tough, but we’ll see. One day they’ll be an uprising just like there was before.”
Karl watched the man head back to his car. He called after him. “Is that some kind of threat?”
Before climbing back into his car, the colossal guy glanced back at Karl. “This time, it won’t be vampires and werewolves fighting for their rightful place in the world, but the downtrodden like me—like all the other people you and your kind fuck with—step on and squash like we’re nothing but dog shit.”
Karl wanted to tell the guy that he didn’t think he was dog shit; a thug, perhaps, but nothing more. Before Karl had the chance to say anything, the guy had climbed back into his car and slammed the door shut. He watched the car move forward in the line of traffic.
“Hey, are you a Temporal Officer?”
Still holding his badge in his hand, Karl glanced in the direction of where the sudden voice had come from. A bedraggled-looking man was standing beside him. His long, white hair was plastered wetly to the sides of his gaunt face. The man glanced at Karl’s badge then back at him.
“I heard you tell that guy you were a Temporal Officer, is that right?” the man asked again.
“Correct,” Karl said showing the man his badge. “I’m Officer Potter.”
“Then you better come quickly,” the rain-soaked man said, heading away and in the direction of the nearby apartment blocks. The tails of the man’s long, dark coat flapped about a pair of spindly legs that were bare, apart from knee-length grey socks and the hobnail boots he wore on his feet. Looking back over his shoulder and seeing Karl still standing in the rain by his car, the man urged him to follow. “Come, come. There isn’t a moment to waste.”
Karl parked his car, then set off after the man. “Where are you taking me? What’s the rush?” Karl called out over the sound of honking traffic and the steady hiss of rain.
Reaching the crate-like apartments, the wizened man turned to face Karl once more. “Officer, I’ve found a body. The body of a young woman. Lucy May was her name. She rented one of these apartments from me. But now she’s dead. And she owed me rent. But what can I do… I’ll never get the credits…”
“Hang on,” Karl said, raising one hand. “You’re talking way too fast and not making much sense. Where is the body?”
The man jabbed one crooked finger heavenward. “Up there on the top floor.” Then, lowering his voice to little more than a whisper, he added, “She’s been murdered.”
Karl balked. “How do you know she’s been murdered?”
“Lucy May’s had her throat slit,” the man said, dragging one broken fingernail across his stringy neck as if to illustrate the point. “Her head has almost come right off.”
Chapter Eleven
The year 1973…
Annora Snow swayed slowly from side to side in the arms of the stranger. With her eyes closed, she let the steady beat of the music ensnare her as much as the handsome stranger’s arms that were wrapped about her waist. The music, the stranger, and the atmosphere in the Night Diner seemed to have bewitched her somehow. She felt heady and light on her feet, and she wasn’t sure why, for as far as she was aware, not a drop of alcohol ha
d passed her lips. In fact, Annora didn’t like alcohol that much. The occasional glass of red, but that was as far as her drinking habit went. Slowly, as if waking from a dream, Annora opened her eyes and looked about the room, which appeared to be spinning. Or was she simply being turned slowly around in the young man’s arms? They swayed together in the middle of the dance floor. As they slowly turned, Annora looked at all the young people who were dancing, too. The men appeared to be as beautiful as the women who danced with them. Despite their beauty, Annora couldn’t understand why she was watching these perfect-looking people so intently. But they looked too perfect—and that’s what had drawn her attention. Never before had she been to a bar where everyone in it looked as if they had just stepped off a catwalk, or had leapt from the pages of some glossy fashion magazine.
The young stranger looked down into Annora’s face. He could see how she looked around the Night Diner in awe. Her beauty matched any of the young women who had come to the diner to dance, drink, and feed. She was beautiful. He had known it the moment he had set eyes on her. Had she strayed into the Night Diner by accident or by design? It didn’t really matter to him. But perhaps it should have mattered. This young woman who called herself Annora Snow was stunning and would make a perfect new addition to the Night Diners. There were hundreds of young women in the diner, but there was something different about Annora. Just as the music and atmosphere had bewitched her, she had bewitched him. Whether she knew it or not, Annora was moving her body in perfect time to the music and in perfect time against him. The blouse and skirt she wore showed off her elegant figure and slender legs. Of all the young women in the bar, it was Annora who had grabbed his attention the moment he had walked in out of the rain. He was drawn to her. She might have not seen him, but he had noticed her at once. He had seen how the flashing lights above the dance floor had made her long blonde hair dazzle, and how it had highlighted every curve of her sensual body. But he knew he wasn’t the only young man in the Night Diner who had become aware of Annora Snow and her beauty. They watched her from the shadows, just like he had. He knew Annora suited the tastes of all the young men there—and the young women, too, but he also knew their restraint wouldn’t last long. He sensed danger for the beautiful young woman. He didn’t want her to become one of his kind just yet. Had she come alone to the Night Diner? Had she come with a boyfriend; some kind of protector? He scanned the crowds, but could see no one moving forward to be with her. She looked alone. She looked lost and confused. And when he had heard her begin to shout out, asking where she was, he knew she had stumbled in out of the cold and rain. He knew that she was alone. So he wasted not another moment and pounced.
So as he now took Annora by the waist and pulled her close to him, she looked up into his dark eyes. He could see that she had not only been lost when she had come across the Night Diner, but was now lost in the moment, too. He pulled her close so her chest was against his. Her eyes never left his as they continued to dance sensually against each other. As they danced closer and closer, he looked into her beautiful face. Her perfect blue eyes, her lips soft, full, and rose-petal pink, her pearly white skin, and the way a few loose strands of her blonde hair fell across her face like lace. She really did belong in the Night Diner. And for one night, he didn’t want to be a monster. He wanted to love and be loved by this beautiful stranger. He didn’t want to let her go. He wanted her to remain human for just one more night.
Annora looked up into the stranger’s face. Aside from being unnaturally handsome, his dark eyes had a hypnotising effect on her. His lips were full and delicious-looking. And when he smiled down at her, Annora couldn’t help noticing the two small dimples that appeared. As he pulled her closer still, she didn’t feel the urge to pull away nor reject him. It seemed an impossible thing for her to do. It was as if he had, in some way, taken control of her—made her his possession. However sensual the stranger’s movements, however close he held her against him, Annora couldn’t stop herself from mirroring his actions. She moved with the same desire he did. His touch was ice-cold and it sent chills over her flesh. She shuddered at his touch as he brushed loose strands of her hair from her face. As he brought his face close to hers, she didn’t turn her cheek or pull away. Perhaps if she had been anywhere else other than the Night Diner, she might have thought it a little odd that he wanted to kiss her so soon after meeting her. But his kiss was soft and gentle—just as spellbinding as the intoxicating atmosphere in the Night Diner. So the urge to pull away instead became one of wanting more. Annora seemed unable to resist him. Before making her escape from her previous life, she had decided that she would lead a more carefree existence—a life of fun and excitement without giving too much thought to the consequences of her reckless actions.
With those thoughts at the forefront of her mind, she knew she wanted more from this handsome stranger. Breaking their kiss, she looked up into his eyes once more. If she was going to be completely wild with this man, she thought she should at least know his name, if nothing else.
“Who are you?” she whispered into his ear. “What’s your name?”
“Nik,” he whispered back. “Nik Seth.”
Chapter Twelve
The year 2067…
Karl Potter followed the man into what looked like some kind of lift. It had been constructed out of steel poles and was held together with what appeared to be giant crocodile-clips. There was a wire mesh for a door that the man pulled shut to prevent them from falling out. He plucked a yellow box that was attached by wires from one of the metal poles. Protruding from the front of the box were two buttons, one green, the other red. The man pressed the green button and the lift began to rattle as it travelled up the side of the shipping containers that doubled for apartments in this part of the world. As the lift gathered speed and momentum, Karl felt his stomach drop to his knees. He gripped a nearby pole, screwing his eyes shut until the lift came to a shuddering stop.
“Here we are,” the old guy wheezed, sliding open the wire mesh door. “Follow me, Officer Potter,” he said, stepping out onto a narrow walkway.
Karl glanced down and could see the line of traffic slowly crawling forward way below. The walkway, like the rest of the structure, was supported by what looked like lengths of scaffolding. Rain blew into his face, and the walkway shifted and swayed beneath his feet. Seemingly undeterred by the wayward structure, the old man wasted no time in hurrying along the walkway that wound its way around the giant shipping crates. As Karl followed him, he could see that doorways and windows had been cut into the fronts of the steel crates. Many of the doors and windows had been covered with little more than layers of corrugated iron, see-through sheets of plastic, and some just had sheets of tarpaulin hanging from them. As Karl passed along the aerial walkway, he could hear chatter, laughter, and sometimes wailing coming from within the makeshift apartments. The cries of hungry babies haunted the air. But it wasn’t just the sounds that plagued his senses. It was the smells that emanated from the apartments, too. The stench of dirt and decay wafted on the air and he covered his nose with the back of one hand. The old man either didn’t have a sense of smell or had grown accustomed to the stench, as he didn’t appear to be bothered by it at all.
Further along the walkway, the man came to a stop. Drawing level with him, Karl watched the dishevelled man slide a sheet of corrugated metal away from an opening cut into the front of one of the large crates.
With eyes wide, he looked at Karl. “She’s in there. I’ll warn you though, she don’t look pretty—not anymore.”
“Wait out here,” Karl said, pulling his mobile comlink from his jacket pocket and switching on the torch function. Wiping rain from his face with his free hand, Karl stepped into the container.
Holding the comlink out before him, he cast an eerie cone of light around the inside of what constituted as a living place in this part of the world. The smell of putrid decay was stronger now, and once again, he covered his nose and mouth with his free hand. The light
bounced off two metal basins on the floor in one corner. One he suspected was used for washing, and by the acrid smell of urine wafting from the other, he guessed that had been Lucy May’s toilet. But the putrid smell wasn’t just coming from the makeshift toilet and it wasn’t just the pungent stench of excrement that made his eyes water. There was another smell, and it was much stronger. It smelt of spoilt meat—of flesh that had started to decompose. With his free hand still covering his nose and mouth, Karl shone the light in the direction the vile smell was coming from.
Almost at once, Karl gagged behind his hand. The light from his mobile comlink illuminated a face. A face that, on first sight, Karl believed to be moving. But the young woman couldn’t be alive. The old man had said that her throat had been slit. Had he been mistaken? As Karl took another slow step forward and deeper into the container, he could see that the old man hadn’t been mistaken. The young woman’s face was moving as she lay stretched out across the floor. It was alive with writhing maggots. They crawled, white and bloated, from her eye sockets, nostrils, ears, and mouth. It wasn’t only the infestation of maggots that made Karl’s stomach lurch and wash hot bile into his mouth, but the ragged tear in her throat. The old man had been right; Lucy May’s head had nearly come off. It looked as if someone had tried to hack it from her body.
As if someone had kicked his feet from beneath him, Karl dropped to his knees. The sudden pain in his head was crippling, and the bright white lights that danced before his eyes were blinding. He dropped his mobile comlink to the floor, and threw his hands to his head. Groaning in pain, he rocked forward at the waist. Smelling his own blood in his nostrils and feeling it drip onto his upper lip, the flashing white lights danced like a bright haze before him. They sparked on and off as they gradually took on a life of their own, forming patterns, then pictures.