by Tim O'Rourke
Holding his head in his hands, Karl stared wide-eyed through his fingers as, among the flashing lights, he saw three people. It was as if he was no longer alone in the makeshift apartment. These barely-there people had their backs to him. Although he couldn’t see them clearly, the bright lights before his eyes were so blinding, he thought that perhaps there were now two females and a male with him in the container. The lights rushed at him, pelting his face. Karl threw his head backwards, blood dribbling from his nose, his temples pounding. He felt as if he were being punched repeatedly in the face. He rolled onto his side. Through flickering eyelashes, he peered into the pulsating lights that danced before his eyes. He could see that he was not the only one lying on the container floor. Lucy May was lying just out of reach. Though her face was no longer maggot-infested, it was just as terrifying to look at. He had never seen such fear on the face of anyone before. But then he lost sight of her as the three strangers stepped forward. With their backs to him, he was unable to see their faces. They were little more than shadows as two of them held Lucy down while the third crouched over her. Blood sprayed up into the air, drenching the container walls. Through the flashing lights, Karl watched Lucy May thrash and kick her legs wildly against the floor before falling still.
“Let me see your faces, you murdering bastards!” Karl roared through his fingers—through the lights and the pain that consumed him.
As if being able to hear his voice—as if Karl had been present at the killing—the person crouched over Lucy’s body glanced back in the direction where he lay on the floor holding his head in his heads, rocking back and forth. Suddenly the lights went out. Just before Karl got to see the killer’s face. The last thing he saw was a face framed with long, blond hair looking back at him.
Screwing his eyes shut, all Karl could now see was darkness. The pain in his temples began to ease and the blood that trickled from his nose began to slow. Still lying on his side in the foetal position, Karl felt a sudden pain in his side. It came again and again, as if a booted foot was prodding him in the ribs.
“Who are you?” he heard a voice say.
Slowly, Karl opened his eyes and shut them again. There was more bright white light. But he knew it wasn’t the flashes of light he had seen before. It was torchlight now being shone down into his face.
Raising one hand to block out much of the light, he opened his eyes again.
“Who are you? What is your name?” the same voice asked again.
Now that his eyes were shielded by his hands and partially blocking out the torchlight aimed down at him, Karl could just make out the shadowy outline of three figures. Each of them had a gun trained on him.
“Who are you?!” the voice demanded again.
“Potter. Officer Karl Potter,” he groaned, before blacking out.
Chapter Thirteen
The year 1973…
Nik Seth no longer felt able to control himself. If Annora Snow continued to gyrate against him and rub his groin with her hand, he might just take her, then kill her, in the middle of the dance floor. But he knew deep down that her actions were not really her own. He was manipulating her every move and action by transfixing her with his stare. It was a trick the Skin-turners played on the humans. It was how they coaxed their victims to succumb to them. He wasn’t sure he wanted to kill Annora Snow, though. She was different from the rest of the human girls he had met. Instead of killing her, he wanted to turn her—eventually. She seemed special in some way, but wasn’t sure why.
He continued to feel the excitement rise in him, and in his lap. Annora felt it too, as she rubbed her hand with greater pressure over the growing bulge in the front of his denim jeans. He placed his hands on her, closing his fingers over her soft breasts that strained against the delicate fabric of the blouse she wore. He felt a burning heat pass over him and he fought the urge to reveal his claws. Annora stared at him with the same intensity as before, as he continued to look into her eyes. He knew that in them, Annora would be able to see herself and him together—their bodies entwined. She smiled at him and his cock stiffened a little more. God, she was beautiful. He ran his hands up the length of her arms and was exhilarated by the contact. He could tell that she was elated, too. He cupped her face in his hands, stroking the soft skin of her cheeks with his thumbs. He kissed her again, his tongue gliding into her mouth. She slid her tongue into his, prodding and probing. She held him tight, and he felt that he was losing the ability to stay on his feet. His body trembled with excitement against hers. Never before had he felt such passion come from a human. Never before had he wanted to fuck and to be fucked. He leant in closer still, their lips crushed together. He soaked up her scent and wanted more and more of her.
Breathless, he broke their kiss. The closeness of her human smell and touch consumed him. His innards felt as if they were on fire. Annora continued to stare deep into his eyes, watching the sordid and depraved acts she could see her and Nik acting out in them. She lunged at him again, her lips seeking out his. But he didn’t want to kiss. Nik wanted more. Her body was calling to him.
Taking Annora by the hand, Nik led her from the dance floor. She followed willingly, wanting him as much as he did her. Her heart raced and she trembled with a desire and lust that she had not known before. Her flesh felt like it had been electrified. In his haste to find somewhere to fuck Annora, Nik Seth pushed and forced his way through the crowds of people that filled the Night Diner. Once clear of the dance floor, he led her down a dimly lit corridor. They hadn’t gone very far when he kicked open a door and pulled Annora inside. He closed the door with the heel of his boot and switched on a light. The naked bulb that hung overhead cast the small room in weak yellowy light. Annora could see that Nik had led her to what appeared to be a small cloakroom. Coats and leather jackets hung from rails, and in one corner stood a tall brass pot that was full of umbrellas. Now that they were alone, Nik wasted no time in pushing Annora against the cloakroom wall. Mashing his lips against her, he gripped her wrists, lifting her arms above her head. He pressed his groin into her, and she moaned with pleasure as she squirmed against him. Breaking their kiss, Nik lowered his head, pulling open the front of her blouse with his teeth. He ran his tongue between her breasts, wanting them to be free of the lacy black bra containing them. He released his grip on one of her wrists, and then plunged his hand up her skirt between her legs. Annora clung to him with her free hand and groaned as he continued to kiss her breasts.
With his excitement rising, Nik not only wanted to touch her body, but wanted to be inside it. He wanted to go right through it. Tear her apart. Rip her to pieces. He felt as if he was losing his mind like never before. With Annora pressed flat against the wall, he positioned himself between her legs. He gripped one of her thighs with his hand, lifting her leg high. Without warning, Annora suddenly cried out. Her cry wasn’t one of pleasure, but fear. Nik knew the difference better than anyone.
She felt a sudden pain in her thigh. She glanced down. Feeling more confused than aroused, she looked at Nik’s hand gripping her thigh. But it no longer looked like a human hand, but like the claw of a giant wolf. And with his head buried between her breasts, he was no longer fixing her with his intense stare, and the spell he had worked on her was weakening. Annora’s heart now began to race out of fear rather than excitement.
“What are you doing?” she cried out, as if coming awake from a deep sleep. “Get off me!”
Hearing her cry out, Nik glanced up. To Annora’s horror, Nik looked different. His eyes were no longer dark, but blazing bright like they were on fire. His hair was no longer dark, but sandy-blond and wild. It grew about his face in bushy side-whiskers. The man pressing her against the wall of the cloakroom looked nothing like the man who had led her onto the dance floor.
He looked like some kind of wolf-man.
Chapter Fourteen
The year 2067…
Karl felt hands take hold of him. As the container and the smell of decay swooned all around him,
he felt himself being dragged up onto his feet. He shook his head from side to side, and licked away the blood that smeared his upper lip.
He felt hands reach inside his jacket. Felt his gun being snatched from its holster.
“Hey,” he mumbled, his senses slowly returning to him. “Get your hands off my gun…”
“It’s a service-issue revolver,” he heard a female voice say.
Karl heard another voice. “Check him for some I.D.”
As he tried to will himself to stop swaying on his unsteady feet, Karl felt hands reach into his jacket pocket. He heard a third voice. This too was female.
“Says his name is Officer Karl Potter,” the voice said. “He’s one of us.”
“Hey, you, open your eyes,” he heard a voice bark. This was followed by a stinging sensation to the right side of his face. He sensed that he had been slapped. “Wakey, wakey, sunshine.”
Karl slowly opened his eyes. The world continued to sway in and out of focus. The hands that had hold of him gripped tighter. Shaking his head from side to side again, he tried to focus on the three figures before him. Slowly, piece by piece, as if a jigsaw were coming together, the world slotted back into focus. He looked at the three figures before him. Each of them wore navy blue Temporal Officer uniforms. Their upper torsos were hidden behind black ballistic vests. On their heads they wore black helmets with dark visors that covered their faces. Torchlight shone from the guns they held in their hands.
“What are you doing here?” one of them asked from behind their visor.
“Headquarters sent me,” Karl said, still feeling somewhat dazed and confused. “I’ve been posted here…”
“I know that,” the same officer barked. “I got the memo. What I want to know is what you’re doing here at this suicide.”
Hearing the word suicide brought the world back into perfect clarity for Karl.
“Suicide?” He frowned, brushing away the officer’s hands that had hold of him. He looked at the officer who had spoken and could see silver sergeant stripes gleaming on each of her shoulders. “What suicide?”
“That suicide,” the sergeant said, pushing up her visor and then pointing down at the floor where Lucy May’s maggot-infested corpse lay spread-eagle.
“I don’t think she killed herself,” Karl said, staring down at the gaping wound in her throat.
“Whoa!” the sergeant said, raising one gloved hand. “You can stop that right now.”
Karl shot her a look. “Stop what?”
The sergeant took a step closer to him while the other two officers looked on, faces hidden behind their visors. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“And what’s that?” Karl asked.
“You think that just because you’re some top cop from the city you can stroll in here and tell us how to do our jobs,” she said, her perfect blue eyes narrowing in on him. “I know a suicide when I see one.”
Karl couldn’t be sure if the sergeant was taking the piss or being real. There was no way the dead young woman stretched out on the container floor had killed herself. Even the old dude who had reported her death had been able to see that.
“This is a wind-up, right?” Karl asked, a smirk pulling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re trying to test me…”
“And you’re testing my patience, Potter,” the sergeant snapped at him.
“I don’t mean to,” he said, and as he spoke, the two officers standing behind the sergeant pushed up their visors. Although he couldn’t see their faces clearly, he could see enough to know that they were both strikingly beautiful. Even the stroppy sergeant had a certain kind of attractiveness about her. The officer standing to the right of the sergeant loosened the chinstraps beneath her helmet before taking it off. She couldn’t have been any older than Karl. She had long, blonde hair that had been fixed into braids and pinned in place at the back of her head. Her eyes were the colour of dark chocolate. Now that Karl could clearly see her face, he was struck by her prettiness. Her skin was pale and flawlessly smooth, lips full and pearl-like.
She looked at Karl and said, “I think what Sergeant Shaw is trying to say is that there is enough evidence to suggest that the young woman killed herself.”
“Enough evidence!” Karl scoffed. “What evidence?”
Sergeant Shaw aimed her torch down at the dead girl on the floor. She cast the beam of light over several hypodermic syringes, silver foil, and several scorched spoons. Staring at Karl, Sergeant Shaw said, “It’s plainly obvious that she died of a drug overdose.”
“Plainly obvious?” Karl said. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He looked at the sergeant and the unmasked officer then back down at the gaping hole in Lucy May’s throat. He took a step forward closer to the body as if inspecting it. “Oh, how dumb of me. I see perfectly now. This young woman injected herself with a lethal cocktail of drugs, and then before dying, she tried to hack her own fucking head off with a syringe. Perhaps I’m not the top cop I thought I was.”
“Are you trying to be a smartarse?” Shaw barked at him.
Karl turned to face her, a look of disbelief on his face. “I’m not trying to be a smartarse. I’m just trying to say what is blatantly clear for all to see. This young woman didn’t die of any drug overdose. She’s been murdered.”
“And where’s your evidence for that?” the third officer asked, finally removing her helmet, revealing her face and shaking her long, auburn hair free. Her eyes were green and piecing. She stared at Karl as if reading him somehow. And just like Sergeant Shaw and the other officer, her skin was pale and as smooth as marble. Like Karl, the officer was in her early to mid-twenties. Although he doubted he was wrong about how Lucy May had died, he had been wrong about one thing. He could see that he had been wrong in his belief that it was only older officers, those close to retirement, who got sent to work at such remote outposts.
“So?” Sergeant Shaw asked Karl, who had been distracted by the young officer’s beauty.
He glanced at Sergeant Shaw. “So what?”
“You haven’t answered Officer Riley’s question,” she pushed. “Where’s your evidence to suggest that the young woman was murdered? Have you seen some kind of weapon that we’ve missed?”
Hating to be proved wrong, Karl suddenly blurted out, “There were three killers. Two of them held the young woman down on the floor while the third…”
“Three killers?” Officer Riley cut in, a wide smirk splashed across her pretty face. “This just keeps getting worse and worse.”
“How do you know this?” the other officer asked. Unlike Officer Riley, she didn’t have a mocking grin spread wide across her face. She seemed genuinely interested in what Karl had to say.
But what could he say? How could he explain that he’d seen who he believed to be the killers in some blinding vision? It wouldn’t make sense. It didn’t even make sense to him. He had grown accustomed to the headaches, nosebleeds, and flashing lights since waking from the coma, but he had believed those previous visons he had seen to be snapshot images of his memory returning. But what he had seen in the container before blacking out couldn’t have been memories. He had never been to Outpost 71 before. He had never seen or met the dead girl before. So how, then, had he seen her murder? None of it made sense. And if it didn’t make sense to him, how would he explain it to Sergeant Shaw and her team? They really would think he had lost his mind.
“Answer Officer Scott’s question,” Shaw said. “What makes you believe that the young woman was murdered by three individuals? How can you be sure?”
Karl swallowed hard and looked at Sergeant Shaw. “What I can be sure of is that she didn’t die of an overdose. How else did she get that great gaping wound? Her throat has been torn to pieces.”
Without taking her eyes from Karl, Sergeant Shaw took off her helmet and placed it under one arm. With her face fully revealed for the first time, Karl could see that she had short, black hair fashioned into a shoulder-length bob. She was older than him
and Officers Riley and Scott. Karl guessed that Sergeant Shaw was in her late thirties. He could see that some of the frostiness in her eyes had thawed. She no longer looked at him as if she wanted to punch him in the face.
“I like the fact that you’re keen, Potter,” Shaw started, “but you have to learn to walk before you can run. While you were unconscious on the floor we carried out a thorough inspection of this apartment. There is no sign of a weapon, and no sign of any struggle. Lucy May was known to us—she was an addict. It’s sad, but a true fact of life in these parts. I’ve inspected the wound and it wasn’t caused by any blade or knife. The tear is jagged at the edges—I can see teeth marks…”
“Teeth marks?” Karl cut in, shocked by what she had said.
“Vermin,” Sergeant Shaw said with a knowing nod of her head. “Slums like this place are overrun with rats. As you can see by the state of the decomposing body, the girl has been dead for some time—long enough for rats to… well, I won’t go on. I don’t want you fainting again.”
“I didn’t faint,” Karl said, feeling indignant.
“So why were you lying on the floor when we arrived?” Officer Riley piped up, that oh-so cocky grin dancing across her lips again. “Don’t you like the sight of blood?”
“Okay, that’s enough, Selina,” Sergeant Shaw said. “The dead girl isn’t a pretty sight. I can’t blame Potter for fainting.”
“But I didn’t…” Karl started.
Ignoring him, Shaw turned to look at Officer Scott. “Lisa take Potter to the Night Diner so he can settle in.”
“What’s the Night Diner?” Karl asked.