One of the cameramen mimed three-two-one with his finger and the red light above his camera flashed on.
Cassie gave her best smile as instructed. Time for the performance of a lifetime.
“Hello! You’re back with The Ultimate Choice. We’ve got Cassie O’Neil here tonight. She is, of course, giving The Ultimate Gift. You good folks at home have been voting in your millions. You are going to give Cassie’s parents such a wonderful gift to remember their daughter by. A way for them to raise their grandson in luxury.”
Cassie tried to smile. She caught sight of herself on the small screen. Her expression was closer to grimacing.
“In a moment, we’ll reveal Cassie’s choice. But first, let’s find out how you good folks at home and in our studio audience have voted.” He paused to let the music build to a crescendo.
The crowd went wild, shouting, whistling. The girl in the front row still stared unwaveringly at the host.
Bob Devine signalled for everyone to quieten and said, “Here are the choices for Cassie’s heart. First we met Janice – the actress from El Dorado. How many of you want her to come back on her show? Then George told us a bit about his job – he’s on the brink of solving world hunger. And lastly, we met Drusilla. She’s a recovering rave addict who wants to tour the country, trying to end rave addiction.” Bob Devine stopped for a breath, making a strategic glance Cassie’s way before continuing. “Like I said, you’ve been voting in your millions. And the winner of Cassie’s heart is…”
A soft drum roll started. The audience silenced for once, waiting motionless as the host gave one of his best smiles to them. The drum roll continued, starting quietly in the speakers on one side of the stage, growing louder until the sound deafened Cassie from all directions. She eyed the aisle that led to the rear of the stage. How did they lead her through the building? Security took her down a long corridor, went left at some point and the door to the studio was a dozen paces or so on the right. She reversed the directions. Not so hard – she could manage that. Where then? She wouldn’t be able to go home or to her parents. And she knew what the authorities did with the homeless – punishment was a dose of knockout gas, if you were lucky, then death by injection. Wherever she went, she’d have to do better than hide. She’d have to disappear.
The drum roll faded away. Bob Devine picked the perfect moment and said, “And the winner is Janice. Well done. I will look forward to seeing you back on El Dorado in a few months!”
The small screen flashed to the three Heart Hopefuls. George turned to Janice, congratulating her and patting her leg; smiling weakly. His face was pallid. His eyes – once a shade of amber had darkened to a turbid and cheerless colour. Bob Devine sauntered around the screen that still divided Cassie from the others, and oblivious to George, clapped a hand on Janice’s shoulder. She wondered for a moment whether his fingers dug into the actress’s flesh, whether she also couldn’t bear his touch. Janice glanced up at the host, and gave him a beaming smile.
Cassie turned her attention away from them. Drusilla was up to something, but nobody else seemed to have noticed yet. She pulled at her oxygen mask. The elastic tangled up in her hair, the woman too weak to simply yank the mask free. The mask finally dropped and Drusilla abandoned it hanging halfway from the floor, caught in various tubes and wires.
Drusilla held onto the arms of her wheelchair, and forced herself to stand.
“Cheat!” she yelled out and took a staggering step towards the host and the winner. “All of this is unfair, it’s a set up. I never had a chance of winning!”
Bob Devine recoiled as the woman neared, his revulsion plain as the cameraman zoomed in. “Sit down, Drusilla. We’ll think about what we can do for you. Maybe we can arrange an operation to try and repair your heart.” He held a hand out to stop her, glancing at the wings for help from his security staff.
“You’re all so shallow. You had a choice between a scientist who might solve all our hunger problems, me – someone who wants to tackle the problem of rave when everyone else ignores it, actually letting the youth of today die. Every day. Hundreds of kids dying. And adults, it affects all ages. All dying.” She staggered towards the edge of the stage. “And then there’s the actress.” Her face was deadpan. “The proud viewers of The Ultimate Choice chose the actress. Lord forbid your soap doesn’t go the way you want it to.” Drusilla tut-tutted.
The small screen flashed to Bob Devine, he spoke rapidly into his microphone, watching as a couple of nurses and a security guard ran out from the wings. The one that had been guarding the exit nearest her jogged past and disappeared around the partition.
“You saved the actress of some silly show. Are you proud of yourselves?” Drusilla stood at the edge of the stage, pointing into the audience with a trembling hand. For an instant she seemed to shrink imperceptibly. Then in one slow and gentle movement Drusilla crumpled, tumbling over the edge and onto the walkway below. The security guards reached out, but too late. One caught the hem of her shirt, but the patchwork gave and he stood dumbfounded, staring at the square of beige fabric between his fingers before leaping off after her.
The audience seemed to stand as one, all trying to see. People in the first row leaned closer as Drusilla disappeared from sight. Those in the rows further back climbed over the now empty seats to try and get a view. Even Bob Devine craned his head to watch – keeping at a safe, yet filmable distance.
All caught on camera for the entire country to gawp at.
Cassie turned away from the chaos on the walkway and glanced at her nearest exit. A new security guard stood there, blocking the way. But like everyone else in the studio, his attention was fixed on the woman on the floor.
Steve Wild’s voice boomed through the speakers, “Please return to your seats. We will have our on site medical staff examine Drusilla as soon as the way to her is clear.”
The studio lights dimmed and for the first time Cassie could make out the audience clearly. A mass of people gathered on the right hand side of the room, all jostling for prime position nearest the collapsed woman, to be seen on camera, even to get close to Bob Devine as he gazed down from the stage. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized the aisle that led to the back of the studio was almost empty.
Cassie gasped, hand on mouth, her question cards already drifting to the floor. The guard at the wings paid her no attention, concentrating on the screen, where one of the cameramen had managed to secure a clear view of Drusilla. Cassie stared in the direction of the contestant, and slipped off her stool. Pretending to head that way, she jumped off the edge of the stage, feinted left and jogged up to the aisle.
Her heart pounded, thumping out a beat she kept pace with. Terrified, she didn’t dare turn around. What if the guard had seen her change of direction? What if he was right behind her, hand outstretched and ready to grab her shoulder? The audience gave a last surge as all control was lost. The aisle filled with people, none running her way, so she slowed to a walk and forced her legs to take short jagged steps. Keeping her head tucked down, hair flopping loose in front of her face, she pushed ahead – ever closer to the rear of the studio, ever closer to freedom.
The ragged edges of the crowd parted, and Cassie took a tentative step off the walkway. She was exposed now, no people to mingle with, to hide her. The exit was a precious few steps to her right. Taking a deep breath, she walked slowly. She mustn’t draw attention now. Not when freedom was so close. Voices shouted out down by the stage. Had they noticed her absence? She risked a quick glance as she approached the door – a handful of official looking people surrounded Drusilla, holding the throng at bay. The guard who had been nearest her was stood beside the stool, surveying the crowd, his face scrunched up in a frown. Before he had a chance to search all the way to the back of the studio, Cassie yanked the door open and after a momentary look to be sure the hallway was empty, she slipped through.
“Which way?” She glanced in one direction, then the other. In her panic, she’d forgotten the
way. Her heart beat hard in her chest, certain that she’d been seen and people were coming. Not only the security, but also the audience, they’d be forming a mob to drag her back. They came to witness someone die. “Just choose!” She spun to the left and raced off, scrambled around a corner, and ran as fast as she could to the fire exit at the end of the hall. Cassie slid to a stop, and for a moment, she stared at the door, her hands caressing the push bar. Would an alarm sound? She couldn’t find a sign to suggest one might. Behind her, she heard the first shouts echoing through the halls. Deciding it didn’t matter one way or the other anymore, she slammed the bar down, and left the building.
People passed by, heads down, walking slowly. Most citizens headed in the direction of the closest food distribution centre, empty ration box in hand. Others shuffled carrying the now full container of the provisions needed to sustain them for the following week. She couldn’t stay beside the studio forever – security would surely pile through any minute now, grab her and drag her back in. No show, no money for her son. No forgiveness from her mother. A quick march up to the first floor where the surgeons waited, to find a tray of gleaming scalpels and a queue of pre-chosen celebrities and politicians sat waiting for their life to extend.
Cassie joined the procession to the food distribution centre. As the citizens filed off, hoping for more generous food rations this week, always hoping, she headed in a direction she decided approximated south. She couldn’t go back to her flat or her parents’, no doubt the authorities would look in those places first. She had to get out of the city, find the countryside, and try to live rough. She had an idea there were fields near the coast, crops swaying in the wind, with wild birds and animals she’d only ever seen in books.
She trudged along the pavement, over concrete, next to concrete buildings, beside grey people. Life had no colour anymore. Not even the sun shone brightly in the sky – yellow smog hung low, hazing the light.
A man passed her, a skinny man in too large clothes, a small rations box clutched to his chest. He narrowed his eyes at her. Did he think she’d steal from him? She’d heard of the raids. According to the news, each week food muggings increased in number as less was given to the people. Everyone was so hungry.
She raised her hand in apology and walked quickly past. Then she noticed the lady further down the street. She had one arm stretched out in Cassie’s direction, finger extended.
“Aren’t you that whore from the show?”
She had to walk that way. Or turn around, but that would be even more suspicious. Cassie pulled her hood up and tight around her face, staring at the ground as she got closer.
“You are. You’re the one with the illegal kid. You know what they’ll do to him now, don’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Cassie glanced about, searching for any policemen. None had arrived – so far.
“Don’t you try to fool me. You’re the one. I saw you just now on the telly. I’ve only left my flat a minute ago.” The woman looked about. “Help, I need help here!”
“Please.” Cassie reached out for her. “Keep your voice down.”
“No, I will not. You’re a criminal.” The woman jabbed Cassie in the chest. “Hey, anyone!” she shouted out. “Help, I need some help!”
“Please, don’t do it,” Cassie said in a harsh whisper.
“Police!” the woman shrieked.
Others were stopping now, a crowd slowly formed in the street, surrounding her. Cassie backed away towards a gap using small steps. If someone reached out to grab her, that would be it. Game over. Two more paces, she thought. Cassie turned and bolted. She shoved a man aside and tripped as another stuck a leg out. Falling into a run, she took off up the street. She turned to check if anyone was following. A mob chased after her. They weren’t too close, yet. Thank God they’d fed her up all week for that stupid show. She ran quicker then them, already some dragged, falling to a walk. Please give up, she thought and forced her legs to pump even faster.
Cassie ducked into a side road, and immediately took the next left. The alley was long and dark, the high buildings cutting out almost all the light. Halfway down, Cassie found a deep door recess and tucked herself out of view. The mob passed by the end of the alley, the stragglers slowed to a walk. No one had the energy to run for long, and none of them looked like better-fed labourers.
The sun had almost set. Cassie couldn’t see the sun from her doorway, but the light was dim and reducing quickly. Soon night would fall, and she’d have more to worry about than a few discontented citizens.
Cassie tried the door handle before noticing the dirt and rubbish built up all around her. With luck, no one had used this entrance for years. Cold seeped right through her trousers as she sat on the stone threshold. She wrapped her arms around her knees and shivered. The light faded further, and as she snuggled down against the peeling paint on the door, she thought about her day. She’d already committed the most unforgivable sin in her mother’s book. Dishonour to the family by producing an illegal child – hell, Cassie was a criminal now.
Worse, she was on the run. The police would be patrolling after curfew. If they found her, she’d never even wake up. Maybe that was the best way to go. Nevertheless, Cassie snuggled as far out of sight as possible. The staff on the show had dressed her in a dark coloured, hooded jumper. She made sure the hood was pulled properly over her head and tucked her blonde hair out of view. Whatever she could do to blend into the shadows the better. Night had fallen hard, and the high emotions of the day had exhausted her. Her eyelids felt sticky, and they really wanted to be closed. She fought it as long as she could, then as the brightest stars struggled through the smog to twinkle, Cassie slept.
Chapter 4
A man stopped at the end of Cassie’s alley and listened carefully. He pulled out his truncheon before stepping between the tall buildings. He was sure he heard something.
Frankie hated night shift. During the day he had to contend with thievery and counterfeit. An easy and fulfilling job as he rid society of worthless citizens. On the night shifts, he and his fellow policemen hunted the pathetic, sometimes dangerous homeless. Illegals, he shivered at the thought. His initial scores pointed towards becoming a programmer, destined to work from the comfort of his own home. Mother wanted him to be a programmer, and he’d scored highly on the aptitude, but the late development of his physical frame gave him the Force as an opportunity not to be ignored. Not many had the honour of being selected.
A rat darted across the alley – and a big one. That must have been where the sound came from.
Frankie took a torch out of his other pocket and gave a quick shake before shining the light into the alley. A narrow passageway cut between the buildings as they towered up above. Dust gathered in grimy bunnies that shifted with the air currents. Concrete walls followed him as he stepped towards the shadows. He hated tight spaces. A shiver coursed over him, leaving goose bumps covering his skin.
A light fluttery breath met his ears.
“Loud bugger,” he muttered.
He had his kit. The standard operating procedure before vacating the station every night required officers check their torch charged with a shake, making sure they had their standard issue truncheon, checking their RatAway was full, and making certain the DeathKit was fully stocked. He wore his kit on a wide belt around his waist. Felt its weight with every step.
Down on the left he found a deeper shadow – a door recess. He reckoned the rat had gone over there. He flashed the light into the doorway and almost dropped the torch.
“Bugger me.” The words slipped out, but at no more than a whisper.
A body lay curled up on the ground, snuggled up on the threshold and out of sight unless you looked directly in, like he had.
His heart beating hard in his chest Frankie cupped his hand over the torch and backed up against the wall. He inched along, ready to flash the light for an instant to see what he needed to without disturbing the offender. Invariab
ly they were asleep, weak from hunger and unable to put up much of a fight. But caution was his best friend. Major Robbins taught him and the other beat officers this nugget of information, using the sharp end of his walking stick to make a point, along with and the occasional hiking up of his trouser cuff to show off the prosthetic limb that now kept Major Robbins on his feet. Forget for a minute, and get a metal leg.
Frankie waited beside the door recess, taking deep breaths as silently as possible. With a practiced lunge, he flashed the light into the shadows for the count of one second, soaking up every detail. He flattened against the wall once more, his hand back over the torch.
A girl! A bloody girl’s hid in there, he thought. She was curled in a ball, hood of her sweater up and covering most of her face, and snuggled as far into the corner as possible. Her legs were pulled snug to her chest, arms wrapped around, and holding them tight – foetal position, but upright. Her head rested on her knees as she faced the alley. And the rat he’d seen stood on its haunches next to her, sniffing at the soft tissue of her face.
He risked another look, pausing longer than the recommended one-second count. A lock of blond hair escaped the hood and lay across her cheek. Her features appeared soft – almost childlike. How could he, how could he possibly obey the directive with such a beautiful creature? What monster threw her out onto the street? On the other side of the coin, what if she did something to deserve her homelessness?
Jim would be expecting him up at the crossing soon, if Frankie wasn’t waiting, Jim would backtrack until he found the alley – and this girl. Then he’d do what Frankie couldn’t. And then Frankie would be next.
The Ultimate Choice Page 3