by Stuart Keane
“I’m going to ask you one more time, and this time you’re going to give me an answer. If you don’t, you don’t even want to comprehend what I am going to do. And I don’t take responsibility for my actions very often, usually because they aren’t my fault. Now, let’s try this…”
Francisco remained silent.
“Choose.”
Francisco stared at the figure.
Then he spat in the man’s face.
There was silence.
A glove-covered hand came up and wiped the spittle from his mask. He wiped it on his leg and then he stood up. He sheathed his knife and stood with his hands on his hips. Francisco could feel the piercing gaze from beneath the mask and through the tinted glasses.
“That was a big mistake.”
The man turned round and reached for the shelf behind him. At first Francisco didn’t know why, but when his pistol came into view, cocked and loaded, he couldn’t say anything, his throat swelled and no noise came out. A metallic clank sounded and Francisco seemed to see everything in slow motion.
The first bullet tore through Sadie’s left leg, shattering the bone, sending skin and muscle splattering around the chair leg that she was tied to. The child’s scream pierced the night air, torturing Francisco’s ears. Amy awoke, her frail body seemingly shocked into life by the sound of her baby screaming in pain.
The second bullet obliterated Sadie’s face, her nose disappearing in a cloud of red mist and white fragments. The force of the shots sent her crashing backwards into the wall, where her body came to a lifeless rest. Blood pooled around the body as the figure walked up to it and pumped two more bullets into the child for good measure. The screams had stopped.
The man swung round and fired at Amy, brass shell cases flew from the gun’s breech and landed at Francisco’s feet. Amy’s torso shook as if she had been strapped to an electric chair as the gunshots smashed into her weakened body. Blood shot up from all directions, and erupted from under her gag again. Her limbs shook lifelessly as her body finally slumped back into the chair. The seat creaked once, and then her head slumped forward onto her naked chest. Blood oozed from her body’s multiple injuries.
Then the killer turned towards Francisco and fired once. The bullet shredded Francisco’s head and slammed him back into the wall, his legs gave way and he collapsed to the floor in a heap. His eyes closed, and he lapsed into lifelessness.
Next, the gunman wiped the Beretta on his sleeve and placed it in Francisco’s hand. He knew from the trajectory of the bullet that it would look like suicide. He switched off the light and left through the front door. The house was silent.
***
The man threw his wallet against the wall and his credit cards spilled out onto the floor with a small clatter. He pushed his chair over and kicked it across the office and screamed at the top of his lungs. He grabbed his monitor and picked it up, with the intention of throwing it against the wall, but decided not to.
He calculated within seconds that he probably owed near to quarter of a million pounds because of this. A massive loss of earnings, and most importantly, a huge loss of face were the results. He could guarantee that within a week he would lose his job, and within a month his three homes and seven cars would be gone. He had staked everything on this gamble, and for the first time in his life, he realised he had been naive, had not planned far enough ahead, had been reckless.
He had fucked up!
Or had he?
Picking up his landline phone, he dialled a number. He got an answer within twenty-seven seconds, longer than the norm. He nodded.
“You know what to do,” he muttered into the receiver. “Don’t let me down.”
Placing the phone back in its cradle, he waited. This could take some time, he thought.
But he had no choice.
SEVENTEEN
Kathryn was in the reception lobby of the big building she’d gained access to, the lobby providing her a relatively safe haven. For now.
The entrance was now behind her. A rack of chairs nearby acted as a very handy obstruction for the door. Picking them up, she placed them against the door itself. When she placed her ear to the panel she heard nothing. She doubted that the men had gone far, though.
Kathryn stayed alert as she stepped into the entrance foyer.
She approached the reception desk. Finding the chair behind it, she took a seat and felt a release of tension as she breathed out. The lobby was of moderate size with two lifts side by side to the rear. Two rows of sofas lined the wall opposite the desk, a perfect observation point for whoever was on duty. The entrance took up the left wall. The floor was clear and tidy. A thriving pot plant stood in the corner. Beside the reception desk, a Coke-vending machine was placed under the stairs that led to the upper floors. The lobby would have seemed welcoming in a normal situation.
However, today it seemed just creepy and in no way ordinary.
Kathryn studied the desk for anything she could use. She found a stack of pads and pens which she initially ignored. A pink purse was placed in front of a modern monitor. The monitor was hidden to visitors below a wooden alcove in the desk. No keyboard was anywhere to be found. A mouse mat stood lonely, the mouse missing.
Kathryn opened the purse and found about three pounds worth of change, and looked at the Coke machine, suddenly feeling thirsty. She then placed the purse back on the desk.
She rolled the chair back from the desk and looked under the work surface. There was a pink shoulder bag that matched the purse. Hoisting it onto her lap, she rifled through it. She found various women’s bits and pieces and dropped them on the floor. Opening a cupboard nearby revealed a set of keys. They were labelled VENDING and OFFICE. A keycard, probably a master key, was also attached to them. There was also a hammer and a screwdriver. Finally she found a key labelled LOCKER. Looking up, she spotted a set of lockers hidden in an alcove beyond the lifts.
She pocketed the keys. Kathryn grabbed a pad and pen and stared scribbling a rough map. She threw both of these items into the pink bag, as well as the hammer. Taking the locker key, Kathryn headed to the alcove.
Once beyond the wall she saw several sets of lockers. She tried the key in the first one. Empty. She opened the second one. Also empty. The key was a master, allowing her to try all of the lockers in turn, which took her about half an hour. It was time well spent.
Kathryn had found a variety of clothes, shoes, underwear and other items. She laid them on the bench that sat between the ranks of lockers. A changing bench sat in the centre of the room. She selected a black shirt, long sleeved with buttons. It fitted her snugly. She collected a grey hoodie and put it in the bag, to keep for later. She also found some blue jeans and put them on, doing the same with some socks and panties. She couldn’t find a bra that was her size, but she was at least much better dressed then she had been. Sometimes women being fussy about their appearances had its benefits, she thought. Afterwards she left the rest of the clothes behind and exited the locker room.
Kathryn fumbled with the bundle of keys and approached the Coke machine, successfully managing to open its door. She bundled five cans of Coke into the pink bag and shut the machine behind her. Surveying the room once more, she decided against using the lifts. She approached the stairs and started to climb.
***
The man finished his bourbon and sat back. He smiled.
Within the hour his plan would come to fruition. It meant he was in the lead and was looking forward to taking the winnings. He poured some more bourbon and stood up. He walked to the window. The bourbon sloshed around in his glass as he walked.
Looking out on the city before him, he smiled to himself. Below him he knew was a world of hell, where people existed to supplement their precious lives with indulgence and consumerism that didn’t enhance or benefit their presence on the planet. Buying luxuries that they could never afford. They let their lives spiral out of control on loans and high interest credit cards. That wasn’t life, he thought, it
was barely an existence. He was seventy storeys up and he knew the people in the offices below him were average normal people. He earned more in a day than they did in a month. He paid more for his wardrobe than most of them paid for their education. His preferred brand of bourbon wasn’t even available in Tesco or Asda or any standard chain supermarket. He liked the highlife and this ‘experiment’, as he liked to call it, was one such luxury he could afford.
He smiled, knowing that what he was involved in was only experienced by a handful of people. The bourbon and Ecstasy running around his body gave him a feeling of superiority and invincibility. He finished his glass in one gulp and turned back to his desk. He fell into his chair and gazed at the screen. He reached for the bottle to pour another glass.
Let’s finish this!
EIGHTEEN
“So you never married?”
Heather didn’t answer, her mouth being full of French fries. She chewed quickly and swallowed before answering the question. Kieran just sat and waited patiently. They were going nowhere, so he had all the time in the world. His piercing eyes stared at Heather and she fought back a blush. She finally swallowed.
“No, I haven’t found the right guy. To be honest I haven’t been looking. I barely get time to socialise anymore. I find it difficult being around people I don’t know—”
“—you’re doing fine around me,” Kieran answered. “I didn’t mean to pry, though. I was just trying to generate conversation. Pretend I didn’t ask, eat your food.” Kieran smiled and looked down at his plate.
Heather and Kieran were sitting in a cafeteria. The décor was all too familiar to Heather, just as every other room in this mysterious place seemed somehow familiar. The surroundings were bright and clean. Steel tables and chairs sat in the centre of the room. Off to the right was a kitchen hidden behind dual swing doors. Kieran had brought Heather here and they had made themselves a hamburger and fries each. Heather had a cup of tea, also prepared in the kitchen.
They located a table and chairs furthest from the entrance so they could watch anyone who came in. Heather felt her spine tingle when she imagined the bald people eating in here, silently, methodically. She was glad they weren’t doing that right now. She pushed the thought from her mind and bit into her burger.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked.
Kieran put his burger down and took a sip of Coke. He looked around the cafeteria. Heather waited for his response. She found herself drawn to his eyes. Those stark blue eyes looked familiar. She didn’t know why.
He looked back at her, almost catching her stare, and smiled. Heather returned to her burger.
“Well…this is as far as I’ve come. I didn’t want to wander too far from this place because it felt safe. There’s food and shelter here, so I decided to remain. I haven’t seen anyone in here for my entire stay so far. It’s why I’ve holed up in the larder over there.”
Kieran pointed to a door beside the kitchen. Heather realised she hadn’t notice it before, because it almost looked like part of the wall.
“There is a door at the end of the exterior hallway,” Kieran continued. “I haven’t explored though, but beyond it is a T-shaped hallway which must lead somewhere. From my experience, the cafeteria is a hub in any building that everyone has to visit on occasion. Chances are there is more than one exit. I say we stock up and go that way.”
Heather nodded. She knew there was no option but to go forward. Unless there was a door she had missed, between here and her original cell there was no other route. She swallowed her mouthful and pushed her plate away. She had eaten everything, which was no surprise to her.
Kieran smiled again. “We should stay here tonight and then move out tomorrow when we’re ready. It might make sense for us to get some rest before heading into unexplored territory. If that’s okay with you?”
Heather smiled and nodded again. She didn’t know what time it was but she knew she needed a rest. She sighed. Kieran looked at her again, resting his hands on the table.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing…Well, I suppose everything really. Here I am sitting in a strange place, enjoying a burger and chips as if I’m in a restaurant or on a date or something…And yet this weird shit is going on around us. There are human clones…I think. I end up in a cell and have to escape, barely clothed and I run into you. It doesn’t make sense, yet I can’t help feeling that, at last, I’m safe. Or else this place isn’t as malevolent as it seems. I should be bothered by all that’s happened, but I’m really not. Is that creepy?”
“Not really. They say that traumatic experiences teach you to handle grief or loss or danger in different ways. I wouldn’t be surprised if your mother’s death in some way prepared you for this moment.”
Heather frowned. Kieran continued. “You can’t go lower than rock bottom and I feel you’ve probably experienced that moment in your life. Either that or you haven’t come to that conclusion yet and your brain is still processing all of this. Whichever it is, it shows you’re strong and that you can get through this…”
Kieran looked around and took in their surroundings.
“…Well, whatever this is.”
Heather was silent for a moment. Kieran looked at her. “What’s up?”
“How did you know about my mother?”
Kieran squinted. “What do you mean?”
“My mother,” Heather continued. “I didn’t tell you about my mother.”
“Did you not? I’m sure you did. A few minutes ago?”
“I didn’t…did I? Well, I don’t recall anyway. Who knows? It’s been an exhausting day. My mind’s playing tricks on me.” Heather rubbed her eyes, exhausted. “I need some shut-eye.”
“That can be arranged.” Kieran smiled and shuffled along his seat.
Heather’s new friend stood up and collected the plates from the table. He walked over to the kitchen and disappeared through the doors. Heather climbed to her feet and stretched. She performed a couple of yoga stretches and jumped on the spot. She looked down at her makeshift shorts and top and groaned. She must look a right state.
Kieran stepped back through the door. He held something in his arms.
“Here, I got these for you. It won’t make you fashion model of the year or anything, but they’ll be warmer than that getup you’re wearing.”
Kieran handed her a pair of chef’s trousers. They had a checkered pattern like a cloth chessboard. He also had a white long-sleeved shirt for her. When she took it she realised it was a jumper. There was a pair of trainers as well. Heather looked at Kieran, dumbfounded.
“Chef has taste, huh? I’ve seen that before in kitchens, they always keep spare clothes around. Some kitchen workers change before and after a shift. You can thank the chef who obviously didn’t like walking around in public covered in soup spillage and fat spatter.”
Heather took the clothes and stood silent. She cringed a little at what she was about to say. She felt like a kid back in school.
“Is there anywhere I can get changed?”
Kieran laughed. “You can use the larder, if you wish, but it’s a bit cramped. I can turn around, if you prefer?”
Heather considered this and thought of the possibilities. She felt naked already with the sparse clothes. She probably wasn’t hiding much anyway.
“Okay then…turn around. I don’t want you catching a glimpse.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Kieran turned around and crossed his arms. Heather bit her lip and dropped her shorts. They nearly tore in her hands as she hurriedly ripped them off. She removed her ragged underwear too. She was suddenly aware that she was completely naked in the room, and imagined the clones walking in and having a look.
They didn’t.
She pulled on the trousers. They felt good on her legs, warm. They reached her waist and the button did up without a struggle. She lifted her top and threw it on the floor, noticing that her nipples were erect with cold. She pulled the jumper on and padded it down
around her waist. The chef must have been of small stature because the clothes fitted her well, despite being a little bit baggy. And the trousers stayed up. She tugged the waistband to be sure. She slipped the trainers on her feet and, once again, found them to be a perfect fit.
The dude had really small feet.
Heather sat down, scooped up the old clothes and tied her laces, and then stood up.
“What do you think?” she asked.
Kieran turned around and, once again, he smiled. “Looking good. Covers up a little more then I hoped, but that’s only a guy’s opinion.”
Heather smiled. “Bloody pervert…But thanks.”
Kieran walked towards Heather. He took the old clothes from her and disappeared into the kitchen again. She stood up, finding that the clothes were much more comfortable and warmer than what she’d been wearing up to now. However, she was still uncomfortably aware that she had no bra or panties.
“Hey, Kieran, did that chef happen to be a cross dresser?” she called out to Kieran. “I could do with some underwear.”
Kieran emerged from the kitchen, laughing. “Unfortunately not. Are the clothes comfortable?”
“Yep, they fit nicely. Nice to know I am not exposing myself at every odd angle.”
“Yeah, shame, that.” Kieran smiled.
“Enough of that. Now, what will we do about sleeping arrangements? You said the larder is cramped?”
“That was a lie, I was hoping you would stay here so I could catch an eyeful – just kidding. The last joke, I promise. No, the larder isn’t that small. To be honest I just didn’t want you out of my sight. I might have a girl in there, you see—”
Heather shot him a tense look.
“Joke. Can you imagine a bald chick? Yuck! I apologise now if you have a friend who has cancer or something – that was inappropriate. There is plenty of room. We don’t have to snuggle down together if you don’t want to. There is enough room for both of us to spread out.”
Heather smiled. “Are you nervous about spending the night in a room with moi? You don’t need to be, I mean look at me. Besides, you shouldn’t be getting ideas. I already told you, this isn’t the time or the place for getting romantic ideas. We’re two people in the wrong place at the wrong time, got it?”