(2014) Deep Inside

by Jack Parker

  "So what does it say?" asked Jude.

  Carmon flicked open the folder to the first page. "We're going to get hold of everyone in the team, then we'll go through it all. I'll give you an example, though, so that you'll get what I mean."

  He turned the page and skimmed his eyes over the contents. "Polly was afraid of heights," he read. "And Jim always had this annoying habit of laughing at her over his pile of papers whenever she would come to his printing studio, seeing as it was, after all, in a high place. He would always stand in the center of the room, the room plastered with hundreds of buildings all distorted and contorted."

  Lia furrowed her brows. "The writing is shit. 'Distorted and contorted?' Is that the writer's sad attempt at applying imagery?"

  Carmon rolled his eyes. "That's not the point. It's the instructions that it gives. Polly was afraid of heights- that obviously means that "Polly" has to go on a high place. Jim always had this annoying habit of laughing at her over his pile of papers whenever she would come to his printing studio –The first bit obviously involves LAFFAT –laughing at- and the papers are documents. Then it mentions "Printing studio." Printing studios can be used for many different forms of art. So, what forms of art are there? Drawing, painting, sculpture…"

  "Photography," breathed Lia. "We have to take photos."

  Carmon nodded. "Exactly. Then it mentions that he's in the "center of the room" and the room is plastered with various buildings. That must mean that we go in the center of a high building to get papers, and this building is to do with LAFFAT."

  "The LAFFAT information center," she supplied. Carmon nodded.

  Lia turned to face Michael. "So, who are we working with, then?"

  Michael ran a hand through his hair nervously. "There's you, Carmon, Jude, Leigh Carter. Emilie Donray and…" Lia so knew what was coming. She could tell by his change in demeanour. "Cal."

  * * *

  Round and round and round and round and round. How much ketchup did Damien have? His chips were absolutely soaked. Jack made sure not to rest his gaze upon Damien's plate for too long. His stomach was far too delicate.

  "What are you doing on New Years Eve?" questioned Damien.

  Jack shrugged. His friends from his old Sector hadn't contacted him. They probably didn't have the number, or maybe something came up.

  Or maybe they just don't care? They were probably busy. That was it, they were busy. "Sitting on the sofa and watching fireworks on the tele," he replied. That had sounded so sad.

  Damien arched an eyebrow. "Jack, that's pathetic."

  He lifted up the ketchup bottle and shook it, then began to squeeze a new layer onto his chips. It looked like blood. Jack was never having ketchup again in his life.

  "Well, it's good you're not doing anything," added Damien. It was good that he was reduced to watching fireworks, on his own, on the television? Damien sure had twisted logic, but he wasn't finished. He continued. "There's a party for all of us young people in the Sector every year. We get drunk, we get laid, we have fun."

  He took a swig of his coke. How did he drink it that fast? Coke usually burnt Jack's throat if he did any more than gently sip it. "You in?"

  Jack shrugged once again. "Yeah, why not? It'll give me a chance to meet everyone in the Sector."

  Damien nodded and took another swig. He gargled it first, then swallowed. Jack peered at his coke with distaste. He was never ordering coke again. He would order water, it was much healthier.

  "Yeah, socializing is good. There are a lot of cool people there. Anyway, how was your first meeting, Boss?"

  "It was …interesting."

  "You meet Jessica Coles?"

  Jack nodded. "Yeah, she's hot."

  Damien grinned. "You're not the only one who shares that opinion. Half the guys in the Sector have a thing for her. Blondes are in fashion." Damien said the weirdest things sometimes.

  "How did she get the job? She only looks, like, twenty five."

  "The obvious," replied Damien. "Marcus Coles, her father and the previous head of LAFFAT, died and left the organization in her name. She's been trained for it all her life, and apparently, she's turning out to be better than her old man at this crap."

  "All the Sector heads were shitting themselves, why is that?"

  Damien's grin widened. "That's for you to deduce for yourself, Harlton. I just hope you've made a good first impression."

  Jack lifted up one of his chips and twirled it between his fingers. "Why don't you just tell me?" He hated it when people would tell you to "figure something out for yourself." It's not like it killed them to supply a few words.

  Before Jack could add anything, Damien stood up. "Hey, Rory, over here!" he shouted.

  Jack turned his gaze to the direction in which Damien was shouting. A couple had entered. The girl was short and fat with a thick mop of sloppily dyed red hair and the guy was thin and lanky, his hair spiked up and bleached blond. They were both Elonsicans. Neither of them was near as pale as Damien. They made their way to Jack and Damien's table, seating themselves on a pair of empty seats.

  "Hey, Damien," cooed the girl. She was pretty, but she was too fat. She seriously needed to work out. Though she wasn't as bad as Fallock, he doubted anyone could be as bad as Fallock.

  "How's it going, babe?"

  The girl groaned and hit Rory on the shoulder. "He won't take me to the Racers game." She pouted.

  Rory rolled his eyes. "She reckons I'm made of money."

  She sighed. "That's because you are made of money. You have so much cash, yet you refuse to spend it on your girlfriend.

  Damien grinned. "Lottie, Rory, meet Jack."

  Wow. So they finally remembered him. They both glanced his way, as if noticing him for the first time. Rory held out his hand. "Rory Higgins."

  Jack shook it. "Jack Harlton."

  Lottie plastered an obviously fake smile over her face. "Charlotte Donray." She leaned towards Damien. "What is it with you and your obsession with Cadlians?" she whispered.

  He wasn't sure if he was meant to hear that or not. He decided to presume it was the latter. After all, even if she had said it out loud, he was lost for words to say. What were you meant to say to a comment like that without sounding over the top?

  "Jack's the new head of our Sector. He's here in place of Dead Dan," said Damien. Dead Dan? … Daniel Clifford. Damien was way beyond weird at times. Or maybe it was Jack's sense (lack) of humour. He preferred to believe the first.

  Lottie's eyes widened. "Oh really?" She was not going to make this easy for him. It was probably a reflex of hers from childhood: bitch at Cadlians. Some people were just made like that. They didn't accept people who were different. It was just the way they were. He had to stay nice. He didn't want any enemies. "But you're only what, fourteen?"

  He had to be nice. He had to be nice. "No, seventeen, actually."

  Damien was watching carefully, amusement clearly plastered over his features. Rory was indifferent to the situation. He was merely eating Damien's chips. How did he manage to swallow that stuff?

  "What part of the Sector do you work in?" added Jack, his tone curious.

  "I help design fitness programs for the training suite."

  Revenge was a dish best served cold. "Doesn't that require for you to be under thirty?" he bit, icily.

  The girl frowned, her eyes filling with venom. There went the notion of being nice. "I'm eighteen," she stated, coldly.

  His eyes widened. Jack faked surprise. "Oh, sorry. It's just that I once heard from someone that you gain more weight the older you get."

  Damien looked on the verge of laughter. "I think we best be leaving now," he said, his eyes resting on his empty plate which was situated in Rory's lap.

  Rory shrugged nonchalantly. "You weren't eating it."

  Damien chose to ignore him. "See ya, babes, Rory."

  "See ya, Jack and Damien," replied Rory.

  "Yeah, bye," added Lottie, unenthusiastically.

  Jack and Dami
en made their way to the door. "Make sure the door doesn't hit you on your way out, Harlton," she hissed.

  "I will," he replied. "As long as you make sure you can fit through it. You should really start reading your own programs."

  Lottie's icy gaze followed them as they left the building. As soon as they stepped onto the pavement, Damien broke into short fits of laughter. "You took that a bit far, didn't you?"

  Jack shook his head. "She was being racist."

  "All she did was say you looked fourteen, that's not racism."

  Jack frowned. "It's called indirect racism. The only reason she was a bitch is because I'm a Cadlian."

  Damien shook his head. "Don't be so paranoid. You Cadlians reckon the whole world is against you. She just doesn't like you, that's all. It's probably nothing to do with your skin color. You're jumping to conclusions."

  It was pointless continuing the matter with Damien. He would never agree. He was from The Gredge. What would he know about racism? Racism was only racism if you said a comment which sounded blatantly racist; otherwise you couldn't get nailed for it. Life sucked that way.

  Well, at least he had the party to look forward to. There was even the possibility of meeting that girl there. Then he would finally ask her her name. His day suddenly looked that bit better.

  * * *

  "Some things are just plain redundant."

  Lacey slid the mouse over the surface of its mat. "That was random."

  Lia shrugged. "Life is random."

  "What are you going on about, Li?"

  Lia leaned back against the sofa and sighed. "Cal, he is so redundant."

  Lacey furrowed her brows and swivelled in her chair to face Lia. "How can a person be redundant?"

  Lia sighed once again and fingered the arms of her chair. "The world would have been better off if he hadn't been born."

  "Ouch, Lia, that's harsh."

  "It's the truth!"

  "Why the sudden subject change?"

  Lia ran a hand through her hair and leaned forward, allowing a few wispy tendrils to straggle free from her messy ponytail. "He's going to be part of the mission. I have to work with him." Lia groaned.

  Lacey laughed lightly. "Then you're going to hate this next bit of news."

  Lia's eyes widened. "What?"

  Lacey grinned. "Your mission's on New Years Eve, right? Well, Jude decided that before the mission, we'd all go for a drive and just, like, hang out. You know, like we do every New Years Eve."

  Lia nodded. "Uh huh. I'm following."

  "Well, Jude thought it might be nice if we took Cal along for the ride 'cause, you know, since you're going to be working with him, he reckoned it would be beneficial."

  Lia groaned and closed her eyes, massaging her temples slowly. "This is not happening."

  Lacey leaned forward and patted her on the shoulder. "He's going to sit in the front with Jude," she supplied, feebly.

  "But he's still going to be there!"

  Lacey sighed. "Give him a chance, Li. He can't be as bad as you're making out. If Jude reckons he's worth the time, then he probably is."

  Lia opened her eyes and sighed. "That's the problem, you and Jude reckon everyone's 'worth the time.'"

  Lacey swivelled around on her computer chair and grabbed a pillow from the bed beside her. She cradled it to her chest, rested her chin amongst its depths and pouted. "Be co-operative, Li. Please? For me?"

  Lia folded her arms. "Ugh. Fine.But only this once."

  Lacey grinned and tossed the pillow to Lia. Lia caught it. "Yay!" squealed Lacey. "Now we can all be happy!"

  Lia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, happy."

  CHAPTER 7

  It was a warm New Years Eve. Fireworks splayed short spurts of color over the night's dark enshrouded canvas. A few towering trees were silhouetted against its flawless surface, sending thin shadows cascading over the long road and blurring over the grey tarmac, like thick pools of water seeping over a hollow bowl and beating against the edges, dancing over the rim, and begging to be released.

  A single pair of headlights beat across the dust ridden road, the jagged light cutting through the darkness, ripping the shadows, letting them disappear and evaporate into the cool night air.

  "It's not even the New Year yet, and they're already celebrating." Lia fingered her seatbelt, ran her nails over the coarse material and scraped them over the strap's smooth surface.

  "Let them have some fun. It's New Years Eve, after all. They're restless." Lacey stretched her legs and kicked the back of the driver's seat.

  Carmon grunted. "Lace, I'm driving!"

  Lacey pouted.

  "He's not going to see that, 'he's driving!'" Lia imitated. She could see him rolling his eyes in the rear-view mirror.

  "Jude'll be outside the base," he stated, purposely leaving out the rest of his sentence.

  "With Cal," Lacey supplied.

  Lia and Carmon groaned simultaneously. "With Cal," they repeated.

  Lacey once again kicked the back of Carmon's seat. "You should give him a chance, you know. He can't be that bad."

  "He's not that bad, Lace. He's worse."

  Carmon and Lia both broke into a series of laughter.

  Lacey rolled her eyes. "If it weren't for the fact that I've been with you guys all this time, I'd say you were drunk."

  Lia stuck out her tongue. "There's nothing wrong with being hyper. Let my balloon bubble."

  Carmon sighed and cast his gaze outside of the window. "Looks like the bubble's about to burst."

  Lia edged towards the window and peered outside. She frowned. They had reached the base and she could see Jude and Cal's figures silhouetted in the darkness by the blinding headlights of the car. They were both clad in black: black jackets, black trousers, black tops. Carmon stopped the car and began to pull off his seatbelt.

  "Where are you going?"

  He grinned. "I get to sit in the back with you guys in case, and I quote, 'Cal and Lia get into one of their bitch fights.'"

  Lacey laughed lightly. "That's a nice way of putting it."

  Lia frowned. "Jude's an ass."

  Lacey hit her lightly on the shoulder. "No bad language in the car."

  Lia shook her head indignantly. "You never told Carmon off!" she whined.

  "That was different, he was quoting."

  "Anyway," he added. "I'm special."

  "Special my arse." Lia stuck out her tongue.

  He arched an eyebrow. "Don't take it out unless you intend to use it."

  She flushed. "Prick." Lacey hit her again.

  Carmon smirked. "Aren't I just?" He turned the handle and kicked open the car door. "Your ride awaits you, your majesty." He bowed.

  Jude glared. "Sarcasm has never been your strong suit, Carmon." Carmon rolled his eyes and made his way to the back of the car, seating himself beside Lia.

  Her gaze was on Cal as he made his way around the front of the car. "Pull the accelerator! Pull the accelerator! Run him over!"

  Carmon patted her on the shoulder. "I would if I were in the driver's seat, but, alas, my brother has turned far too soft in his old age." He sighed.

  "Quit it, you two. He's coming. He'll hear you."

  "So what? He knows we hate him."

  It was then that Jude decided to speak. "Behave yourself, you two. This isn't about your petty rivalry, it's about the mission. Don't you dare mess it up." His voice was cold, demanding, stony. An icy edge lay beneath his words, underlying them with a thick sense of foreboding.

  Lia frowned as Cal opened the car door. He slid in, his dark jacket gleaming slightly under the wavering light, a single beam of moonlight sending white ripples dancing over his rich, chestnut bangs. He didn't look that bad in black…

  Her frown deepened. Had she just complimented him?

  Lacey elbowed her lightly and leaned to the side to whisper in her ear. "Guys look fit in black, don't they?"

  She wanted to slap her there and then. Lacey was so not helping. So what if she was talkin
g about Jude? That sure wasn't who Lia was checking out… No, she would reiterate that: she was casually glancing at him. Yes, that was it, casually glancing.