(2014) Deep Inside

by Jack Parker

  She laughed, lightly. "Oh please, Jack. Stop with all of these formalities. It's not the office. I came here to have fun, not to discuss business and all that shit."

  Was it just him, or was she really badly drunk?

  She giggled, shrilly, and only then did Jack notice the empty glass in her hand. She looked at him for a moment, then frowned upon noticing where his gaze had rested. "Ja-ack don't be so boring. What's so interesting about a glass? And an empty one at that." She stopped talking for a moment, seeming to be contemplating something, then continued. "Did you come with that Damien guy?"

  Jack bit his lip. What was he meant to say? She wasn't just any drunk female –she was his boss. He had to be careful.

  "Yeah."

  She grinned. "You met his girlfriend?"

  Jack was caught off guard for a moment, a familiar emotion panging through his chest like an arrow searing through the flesh of a wounded soldier. "Yeah," he replied, hastily. Maybe a little too hastily.

  She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, Melan.What did you think of her?"

  Why was she asking him all of these questions? As if she were genuinely interested. Or was she just trying to be polite? Whichever it was, he would have preferred it if she just dropped the subject altogether.

  "She's nice."

  Her grin widened, and then she pouted. "Jack, I'm bored."

  Now what was he meant to say? "It's a pretty boring party."

  She nodded, then placed her empty glass on the table. She stretched her arms and yawned. "It is, isn't it? It's New Years Day, they're meant to make it interesting."

  "Yeah, they should."

  She rolled her eyes. "Are you just going to carry on agreeing with me?"

  He grinned sheepishly. There was something about her, something underlying and hidden which just kept him on edge, kept him wishing to please her. "Yeah, why not?"

  She laughed lightly, then patted him on the shoulder. "You're extremely funny, Jack."

  "Um, thanks."

  She took a step forward, her hand still resting on his shoulder. "You know what, Jack?"

  "Um, what?"

  "I've never met anyone like you. I mean, all of the other Sector heads are just so old and boring and they're just so vulnerable –so broken. But you, you've got fire, enthusiasm. And I like that, I like that a lot."

  Jack opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short by a sudden movement from her right hand as she pulled his head down and kissed him, lightly. Before he could respond, she had pulled away, a light smirk quirking on the edge of her features.

  "It's getting late so I better be going. I'll see you around, Jack."

  But before he could reply, she had already left.

  CHAPTER 9

  It was dark.

  A chord danced above her, then twirled, twisted, danced, twirled, twisted. The ceiling was grey, so grey –or was it black? Black like a pit, like something empty, hollow.

  "So…anywhere…? Find her."

  Damp, it was damp. Or was it wet? What was the difference? Were they the same word? But they couldn't be the same word, because they were both spelt differently. What a stupid question. They had the same meaning, at least she thought they did. So the question would probably be, did they actually have the same meaning, or had that all just been a guess?

  Where was she?

  "Full impact…no…lucky to survive…"

  "Who...? what do you…no…maybe…"

  Drip…drip…drip…

  Water. Why was there water?

  Drip…drip…drip…

  "Not sure…he said…yeah, I will…"

  "…Wouldn't…but surely…"

  Why was there no light? Where was the light? She held up her hand, searching desperately for a shape, the shapes, any shapes. All she could see was darkness.

  Drip…drip…drip…

  The voices were getting louder, approaching at a rapid speed. And there were footsteps: harsh, shallow footsteps, beating against the floor, echoing and clashing against the surface like the heavy vibrations of a drum-kit.

  Drip…drip…drip…

  "Go get her."

  She ran, sprinted, through the darkness. The wind lashed against her cheeks, the darkness an endless vacuum drawing her further into its cavernous depths. She was unaware of the time, of her direction, of anything at all. All she knew was that she must run.

  Her foot jarred on something hard and she fell forward, her knee-cap tearing against the rough surface beneath her.

  Drip…drip…drip…

  She looked up. Her eyes were suddenly encompassed by a blinding white light. She squinted and closed them, then opened them once again. Her vision was blurry for a moment, and then it refocused.

  Drip…drip…drip…

  A body hung from the ceiling and dripping from it was blood.

  Drip…drip…drip…

  The light came again.

  "There's nowhere left to run."

  And then she screamed.

  Lia awoke, her breath escaping in sharp gasps. She brought her hand to her forehead, gently massaging her temples.

  "Lia! Wake up! You have to see this!"

  She rubbed her eyes, Lacey's voice snapping her out of her reverie.

  "What?" She yawned.

  "Just come here, quickly!"

  She slipped out of her bed, her body still feeling slightly dizzy. She entered the main room only to find Lacey sat before the television, her eyes glued to the screen. Lia followed her gaze.

  A thin Elonsican woman was reading out the headlines.

  "There was a bombing in the capital. Fifty-two were killed and hundreds injured."

  "And they're blaming us, right?"

  She hadn't planned on saying that, but it came out nonetheless.

  "They have reasons to believe it was a Cadlian terrorist group."

  She didn't want to talk about this. She didn't even want to think about it. It was far too complicated. She wanted to change the subject.

  Lia ran a hand over her hair, attempting to smoothen it out. "How's Carmon?"

  Lacey looked put-off by the sudden subject change, but she replied nonetheless. "Find out for yourself."

  "Okay. After we've ate something, though."

  Lacey nodded, then grinned. "I'll make eggs!"

  Before Lia could reply, she had already sprinted out of the room and made her way to the kitchen. A few moments later, she heard the opening of the fridge and the sound of sizzling fire followed by Lacey's high pitched voice.

  "THERE WAS ONCE AN EGG CALLED TIM. HE LIVED IN A WHEELIE BI-I-IN."

  "Lacey, shut-up!"

  "HE LIKED TO EAT CHEESE BUT IT MADE HIM SNEE-EE-ZE. SO HE DECIDED TO EAT A PIN. Die, egg! WAHAHAHA."

  Lia groaned, then leaned back into the sofa, drowning out Lacey's singing. It was funny how such a serious conversation could suddenly be pivoted into something as meaningless as food. It was like the news, the way that one moment they would be talking about hundreds of people dying from starvation and then, suddenly, they would move onto a broadcast about the weather. It was as if they were watching it all from a distance, as if it wasn't actually happening in their world, but in a place only seen on television screens and heard of on the radio.

  And the truth was did she actually care that fifty people had died?

  She felt sympathetic towards them and their families, but, in reality, it didn't actually make any difference to her. Not directly, anyway. And although she felt bad for them, she didn't actually feel upset about it because it was not directly related to her and she wasn't going to pretend to feel really bad about it when she didn't.

  Was that how everyone else felt when they saw the news, when they saw people dying on the television? Did they pretend to be upset whilst it was on and watch it with respect, but only five minutes later resume with their normal, everyday lives and forget about everything they had just seen? In reality, how could they generally be upset about it because it wasn't as if they actually knew the people who had died?
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  How could you cry for people you didn't even know?

  "Liiiii-aaaaa!"

  "What?"

  "Come here, now. I have a problem."

  Lia rolled her eyes, then made her way to the kitchen. Lacey was stood before the cooker, a fork in her hand as she prodded a small egg which she had placed on the worktop.

  "What is it?"

  Lacey frowned, then prodded the egg. "The egg won't die."

  "Then kill it."

  "But I might damage it."

  "You're going to damage it by eating it, anyway."

  Lacey shook her head. "But that's different."

  "How is it?"

  "It just is."

  Lia rolled her eyes. "Do you want me to kill it for you?"

  Lacey's face brightened and she plastered a wide smile on her face. "That would be nice."

  Lia pulled out a plate, then picked up the egg and cracked it on the side, allowing its insides to drip into the plate.

  Lacey gasped. "You broke it!"

  Lia rolled her eyes, again. "That's kind of how you kill an egg, child."

  "You're younger than me, so you can't call me a child."

  "I didn't say that I'm not a child. I just called you one."

  Lacey frowned. "Just get out of my kitchen before you kill any more of my precious eggs!"

  Lia sighed. "Just hurry up. I'm hungry."

  Lacey stuck out her tongue. "I'll do it in my own time. Now, if you will excuse me, I must comfort its sister. You scared them, you see. And now she's emotionally traumatized." Lacey dropped her voice, so that it was barely a whisper, then added, "we can't eat her if she's traumatized now, can we? So leave. 'Cause you're scaring her."

  Lacey lifted another egg from the case on the worktop, then stroked it gently. She caught Lia watching her. "LEAVE."

  Lia furrowed her brows. "Yeah, su-ure."

  She entered the main room and ran her eyes over its interior, desperately searching for the brush. Upon finding it, she pulled out her long, wavy black hair and made her way towards the mirror, wrenching out the many knots.

  There was a knocking at the door. Lia abandoned the brush and made her way towards it, easing it open.

  Cal.

  He arched a brow. "Nice rabbit."

  Lia frowned and looked down at her pyjama top, then met his gaze again. "What do you want?"

  "I'm hurt. Aren't you going to invite me in?" he replied, coolly.

  Lia gritted her teeth. How did he manage to make her so angry within such a short space of time? "What do you want?"

  Cal smirked. "Am I annoying you?"

  "What's the point in asking a question you already know the answer to?"

  Cal shrugged. "I don't know. What is the point in asking a question you already know the answer to?"

  Didn't he ever get angry at anything?

  "You're just repeating what I said."

  "No shit, Sherlock."

  She could feel the anger begin to bubble inside of her now."Go away."

  "Is that the best you can do?"

  "Yeah, it is. Now leave."

  He smirked, again, then replied. "The Boss wants to see you at two o'clock today. Don't be late."

  Lia ran a hand through her hair. "Okay."

  Cal yawned, then ran a hand through his hair. "Okay," he imitated.

  She could practically feel the steam pouring out of her ears. "Bye."

  He yawned, again. "Whatever."

  He dug his hands into his pockets, then sauntered down the corridor. Lia slammed shut the door.

  "Lia, keep it down! You're scaring the eggs!"

  She leaned against the door and took in a few deep breaths. He hadn't even done anything but he had still managed to make her really angry. She stomped into the kitchen and closed the door.

  A harsh cracking sound was heard.

  "No! NOT MY EGGS."

  * * *

  Jack scuffed the tiles with the sole of his trainer, then bent down on his knees. He looked up.

  "What have we got?"

  The man bent down and prodded the hat. "Nothing was taken."

  "And?"

  "The guard who was knocked out has reported that they saw her leave the main office."

  "Are you sure it was a girl?" Jack lifted up the hat, then twirled it around beneath his fingers and surveyed it

  "When it fell off-" the man indicated the hat "-they saw her face."

  The taller man nodded. "She was a Cadlian."

  The shorter man looked towards Jack and the taller man's gaze hardened. They were looking to see what his reaction would be.

  Jack creased his forehead, then stood up and handed the shorter man the hat. "What makes you sure she was a Cadlian? It could have been the lighting."

  "We're sure she was a Cadlian," replied the taller man, dryly. His tone was mocking –patronizing? He talked as if Jack were a child and he his superior instead of the other way around. Jack instantly disliked him.

  "And the girl who was taken in?"

  "A drunken teenager. Merely in the wrong place at the wrong time," answered the shorter man.

  You wouldn't have said that if she were a Cadlian.

  "How can you be so sure?"

  "Are you implying that we have not done our job properly, Sir?" bit the taller man.

  "As the head of this sector I am required to ask questions-"Jack searched for a badge"-Mr. Parmer."

  A muscle ticked in Parmer's jaw. "Sorry, Sir."

  Jack was tempted to tell him that he should be, but he thought better of it. He was new in this job and it wasn't wise to make enemies of his own employees. "It's okay." He turned to the shorter man. "How did she get in?"

  The shorter man indicated the center of the room which was currently marked off by cones and surrounded by a hoard of police. "She got in through the ceiling."

  "And how did she manage that?"

  "It was currently under construction. Therefore, one of the slabs was missing."

  Jack nodded and bit his lip, his brows furrowed in concentration. Nothing had been taken, but the Cadlian had entered the main room and, according to the guard, she had stayed in there for quite some time before he had decided to make her aware of his presence. It didn't make any sense.

  "Did she have any equipment on her?"

  "It was too dark. The guards could not see anything."

  "And the security cameras?"

  "A one hour recording had been made to play on the screens and the cameras were deactivated. All we have is blank footage."

  "They must have put quite a lot of planning into it, then."

  The shorter man nodded and fumbled with his sleeve.

  Jack looked up, his eyes scouring over the many cones and dozens of police-men scattered around the area. "Have a report on my desk by tomorrow. I'll need to look into this."

  The shorter man nodded, again, then left. Parmer followed suit, leaving Jack on his own. He turned to leave –there was nothing else he could do here- when a voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

  "Jack!"

  Damien.

  Jack pivoted and ran his eyes over the room. Damien was underneath something, his hands covered in grime and a screw driver resting in his palm. Melan was stood next to him, leaning against the wall. She was wearing a white blouse and a white skirt, and her hair was down and curly.

  She looked hot.

  But, then again, she always looked hot.

  Damien grinned. "Yo, Jack!" he repeated.

  Jack plastered a fake grin over his face, then made his way towards them. "Hey, Damien."

  He was focusing his attention on Damien and just Damien. Anything else could have given him away. He could feel Melan's gaze, but he chose to ignore it.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked.

  "I'm the mechanic guy and they needed me to fix some stuff. I'm guessing you're here because you're the head, right?"

  "Yeah."