Stasis (Part 2): Iterate

by E. W. Osborne

  STASIS: PART 2

  Iterate

  E.W. OSBORNE

  CONTENTS

  Preface

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  17. Chapter Seventeen

  18. Chapter Eighteen

  19. Chapter Nineteen

  20. Chapter Twenty

  21. Chapter Twenty-One

  22. Chapter Twenty-Two

  23. Chapter Twenty-Three

  24. Chapter Twenty-Four

  25. Chapter Twenty-Five

  26. Chapter Twenty-Six

  27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

  28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Author’s Notes

  I need your help!

  PART 2: ITERATE

  This book is work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book contains explicit material and is intended for readers 18 years or older.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademarked owners of any wordmarks mentioned in the following fiction.

  Copyright © 2017 by E.W. Osborne

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

  All requests should be forwarded to: contact@ewosborne.com

  PREFACE

  World Population: Approx 10 billion - a few hundred…

  VIOLENCE IN AMERICA. That old story? Yanks have been killing Yanks since before there were Yanks to kill. Leave ‘em to it.

  Murders in the inner city? Same deal.

  Until…

  The violence morphs, shifts, travels, infects.

  Not so easy to ignore when it’s outside your front door.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Slinfold, UK

  June 5th

  JOCELYN DELICATELY TWIRLED a loose curl of hair between her fingers as she gazed out the window. It was a beautiful day, a perfect day. It was a day she’d been thinking about for her entire life and she was overjoyed the weather had decided to cooperate. A few weeks of unseasonably warm weather had brought out every daffodil, snowdrop, and hyacinth. The ground was dry, the sky blue. It was a perfect day for a wedding.

  One by one, she’d sent her bridesmaids and family off on little errands so she could get a moment of peace. No one can say no to a bride on her big day. It wasn’t that she was getting cold feet, but as a normally private and quiet person, this whole event was already a bit overwhelming. All she wanted was a few moments alone.

  Jocelyn caught her reflection in the mirror. She smiled at how absurd she looked. It was only early yet, but her makeup artist had already been and gone. Hair was next and then all that was left after that was getting dressed and walking down that aisle. But for now, she sat in a bathrobe with a full face of makeup and limp hair.

  She curled up in a plush chair with her tablet and resisted the temptation to scratch at her fake eyelashes. She imagined she could peel off an entire face of makeup and set it aside which made her smile again. After only a few minutes of solitude, her entourage returned with their tasks fulfilled. Orange juice from one, a small snack from another, news about Anton.

  “How is he?” she asked as she sipped the juice from a straw, careful not to smudge her lips.

  The women exchanged little looks and giggles. It was her mother who finally replied. “He’s good. He’s a little nervous, but Nash and Lee are… distracting him.”

  Jocelyn laughed and shook her head, moving to rub her eyes and stopping just short. “Just make sure he doesn’t take too many shots of distraction before the wedding. I’d like him to remember our vows.”

  “Plus, right. It isn’t legally binding if he’s pissed,” Hayley nodded. Her best friend was two glasses into a bottle of champagne on an empty stomach. Jocelyn gave her a look she either missed or ignored. “Besides, they’re just being lads. It’s cute, if I’m being honest,” she giggled.

  “My Anton will be fine,” her future mother-in-law nodded smugly. “He’s responsible. Besides, he can hold his liquor.”

  Jocelyn wanted to tell her about the time her sweet little Anton threw up in the back of their car. He’d messaged to let her know he was grabbing a quick drink after work and would be home an hour late. Seven hours later, she was hosing off the backseat of their brand new car while he was upstairs in the flat missing the toilet. She bit her tongue to keep the peace.

  After a few moments, Jocelyn started in her chair. “Did he remember the groomsmen gifts? I saw them on the table last night before…”

  “They were just opening them when I went to check,” said Hayley. “They’re gorg though, aren’t they? Engraved straight razors. I don’t get the tradition, but they’re nice.”

  “It’s some in-joke. He tried to explain it, but…” She eased back in her seat a little but couldn’t shake the feeling something else was wrong. “Is Nan feeling okay? She should be in here.”

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “You know how she gets. She said she’d just be in the way. But yeah, she’s alright. The dizziness passed and she’s got the boys running around, waiting on her hand and foot.”

  Jocelyn smiled at the thought. “And the hat crisis?”

  “It’s sorted,” her mother replied, brushing her hair back to kiss her forehead. “Don’t you worry your gorgeous little head about it.”

  It was still hours before the ceremony, but the energy continued to ramp up. The hair stylists arrived and got to work. There was so much to do yet. Mother of the bride, mother of the groom, bridesmaids… Jocelyn had her own stylist and was able to shift away from the main group while she got to work.

  With the mimosas flowing, no one seemed to notice her retreat into her tablet once more. She scrolled through a series of articles before landing on yet another about the grisly murders in America.

  “The odd behavior has spread to multiple cities. Over two hundred innocent people have been killed in the past few weeks, each murdered by just as many attackers. The attacks appear to be random and without cause, however this does not always mean the victims are complete strangers. Mothers against children, spouses attacking their partners. Largely, the attacks appear to be spontaneous.”

  The noise of the room faded into the background. Along with the soothing combing and styling of her hair, Jocelyn lost herself in another article, this one an opinion piece from a blogger.

  “The catatonic curse, as some have dubbed it, hasn’t been linked to any specific outbreak. No known disease or drug can be connected to any of these murders. The most likely explanation is terrorism. How else could you explain the coordinated, systematic killing of hundreds of people on the exact same day in the same city? Now, none of the accused have been linked together in any way. No known communications have passed between them. They don’t belong to the same clubs or social circles. They are, in every sense, complete strangers.”

  “It’s ‘orrible that, innit?” the stylist asked as she read
over Jocelyn’s shoulder.

  “Yeah, it’s…”

  “What’s horrible?” her mother demanded, stress already lacing her tone.

  “Nothing to do with the wedding, Mother,” Jocelyn sighed. I can’t wait for this all to be over with. Maybe then people will go back to normal.

  “It’s those murders and things over in the States. Dead scary,” the stylist replied in a gossipy voice. “We was meant to go over there next month but we’ve canceled. Too big a risk.”

  “What’s this about then?” Anton’s mother asked, peering over from the far side of the room.

  The stylist came into her own, finally wedging herself into a conversation she was interested in. “God, it’s all over. There’s this thing going around over there where all these people snap and kill each other. I think it’s a big social thing, ya’ know. Like a flash mob but with knives.”

  Understanding the audience better than the stylist, Jocelyn stepped in before the conversation got out of control. “Well, it’s not exactly like…”

  Her mother jumped up so quickly her stylist nearly didn’t have time to pull the curling iron away. “You shouldn’t be reading stuff like this on your wedding day!” She stormed over to collect the tablet.

  “And what should I be reading on my wedding day, mother?” Jocelyn sighed.

  Although she blessedly stayed quiet, her mother’s face contorted into an expression she’d seen hundreds of times before. She was balanced along a thin edge. One knock this way or that could thrown the whole day off.

  “Sorry, ma. I’m just a little nervous,” Jocelyn lied with a meek smile.

  The room erupted in a chorus of awwws. After tucking the tablet safely away, her mother’s face was again serene. Another crisis averted.

  “Of course you are, sweetheart. It’s only natural.”

  Time flew by. Before she knew it, they were raising the dress over her head.

  “This is only a little weird,” Jocelyn laughed. Standing in her underwear while four women struggled to dress her wasn’t the magical moment she’d envisioned. “I feel like a work zone.”

  “Anton’s gonna love that garter tonight,” her best friend cooed.

  “Hayley!” Jocelyn scolded, very aware his mother was standing right behind them.

  There was a slight commotion outside in the hallway. The small church was idyllic for the ceremony and photos, but the rooms they were given to prepare in weren’t in the best of locations. Her room was just off the main door, which provided enough privacy for a grand entrance. It also meant she could hear every guest arrive. Their voices and laughter just outside the door made the impending ceremony that much more real. All the months of planning, the years dating and hoping he’d ask her to marry him… it all culminated to this moment. Family and friends from all around the world had taken time out of their lives to come celebrate with them and…

  The room tilted violently, like the deck of a ship at sea. “Whoa,” Jocelyn managed before catching herself.

  The women swarmed. She allowed herself to be lowered to a stiff chair.

  “Are you okay?”

  “What happened?”

  “Sweetie? Are you alright?”

  Jocelyn’s skin broke out in a fine sweat. “I’m okay. Just a little dizzy, s’all.” The hard metal boning of her corset dug in tightly as she struggled to take a deep breath. The whole dress felt too snug and constricting, but it was too late now. It’d taken four people to get her into it, there was no quick escape without ruining hours worth of work. She chastised herself for not sitting down to test it when she first tried it on.

  Someone handed her a glass of ice water. Her mother cracked open a wrapper and broke off a big chunk of Kendall mint cake. “This’ll help,” she said as she handed Jocelyn a piece the size of her thumb. She took a little bite. The powerful mint instantly cleared her senses as the sugar dissolved on her tongue.

  It was one of her fondest memories of her mother, those Kendall mint cakes. She always had at least one on her at all times, a powerful tool in that arsenal she called a handbag. It’d become a running joke between them, stretching back to childhood.

  “Why do they call it cake? It doesn’t taste like cake,” she said, shifting the sugary cube to her cheek.

  Her mother smiled warmly, pale blue eyes swimming with unfallen tears. “Don’t be smart,” she replied, on cue. “You feeling better?”

  Jocelyn nodded just as a woman’s cry rang out, amplified by the acoustics of the church. She was on her feet and lunging toward the door. “Nan!” she shouted, sure in her gut something had happened to her.

  Hands pulled her back. “You can’t go out there. Let one of us check,” Hayley commanded, slipping around the door and closing it behind.

  Jocelyn sucked on the sugary mint. It centered her, comforted her, even as the commotion outside picked up rather than died down. It was only seconds before her best friend flew back into the room, all the color drained from her face.

  “I think you need to get out here,” she said to both mothers. Jocelyn couldn’t remember a time when she’d seen Hayley’s eyes so wide.

  Her mother gave her shoulder a quick squeeze with one hand while the other dropped the mint cake in her lap. “Eat more of this. We’ll be right back.”

  “Should I come?” Dani asked her mother as she passed.

  “You stay put. Keep the bride company.” She said it in a way that was more of an order to keep Jocelyn cornered than anything else.

  Just before the door closed, a man rushed by. It was so fast, she didn’t even have a chance to place him. But she did see a smear of blood along the wrist of his white sleeve. “Someone call 999!”

  With the multitude of layers hoisted in her arms, Jocelyn flew the door and wrenched it open, customs be damned. I need to see Nan.

  While she was greeted by a confused scene, the first face she spotted in the crowd was her grandmother. Supported by a cane on one side, her cousin on the other, her grandmother stood utterly unharmed. It took Jocelyn a moment to put it together, to accept the danger wasn’t to the person she first thought. She hadn’t taken a tumble and hit her head. Someone else was hurt.

  As if in slow motion, her gaze dragged to the right to where most of the noise was now coming. Some fled toward the chaos, others away, all their faces twisted with horror. She took two steps down the hall and realized everyone was pouring in and out of the other dressing room. The groom’s room.

  A piercing scream shattered the fog she found herself trapped in. “My sweet boy!” She recognized that voice. That’s Anton’s mum.

  In bare stockinged feet, she ran to the cry. Nash, Anton’s brother and best man, stopped her at the door. He violently pushed her back into the hallway.

  “You can’t go in there,” he said in a choked voice.

  She looked down to knock away his hands and realized he’d covered her in blood. Crimson droplets speckled the beaded bodice of her gown. Large, matching hand prints adorned her arms like war paint. He pulled away, palms up, horrified.

  She felt herself begin to crumble, but refused to even entertain the thought until she knew for sure.

  “What happened? Nash, what…”

  “I dunno. I don’t… he said he needed to take a piss before we went out there. He was only alone for like…”

  “Is it Lee?” she whispered, her eyes pulled to the door. She knew it wasn’t. Why would their mother scream like that over one of his mates? “Is it? What did Lee do?”

  Nash’s face dropped, his mouth working as he tried to find the right words. He followed her gaze back to the room before looking back at the blood drying on his hands. “It looks worse than it is. I think they got to him in time.”

  A guest rushed past with a handful of towels. She used the distraction to slip into the room behind him. Her movements felt constricted and murky, like she was pushing through a thick fluid. The tight, voluminous dress catching and snagging on everything didn’t help.

  A huddle
of people surrounded Lee in the corner. She couldn’t see his face but did see a lot of blood on his extremities. He was still, unmoving.

  Light streamed in through the windows and a numb, quiet part of her brain thought, We should’ve switched rooms. The photos of me getting ready would’ve been better in here.

  Someone gasped to her left as she turned. “Jocelyn Marie, you can’t be in here.” It was her mother. She almost replied with a flippant remark about the groom seeing the bride before the wedding, but it caught in her throat when she saw Anton prone on the floor. Three men held bright red towels to his neck and thighs. His glassy eyes rolled in their sockets, unfocused yet searching. The pool of blood leached into the beige carpet, wicking and spreading around them. She tried to tell herself it looked worse because of the white tuxedo. If it was black… if we’d gone for black…

  “The ambulance is coming,” her mother whispered, suddenly at her side.

  Jocelyn was vaguely aware of a low groan coming from her own throat. She’d later look back on her reaction with wonder. There was no screaming or crying or flinging herself to the floor. With a detached numbness she watched like a horrified stranger, not like a woman whose fiancé was dying before her eyes. Except for the groan.

  The low, animal sound gurgled at the base of her throat. Her mother squeezed her tightly around the shoulders, having the decency not to ask her to leave. But the groan grew and grew until her mother finally whispered her pet name. “Lynnie?”

  “What did you do?” Jocelyn whispered so softly she didn’t hear her own words.

  When no one answered, she whispered louder. Louder and louder she repeated her question until she was left standing alone in the room screaming. “What did you do!”

  Disgusted and bewildered faces looked back at her with no explanation. She’d only just read about these attacks in America. Why here? Why now? Why to her Anton on their wedding day?

  She tripped on the hem of her gown as she rounded on Lee, pushing people out of her way. She landed hard on her knees but continued crawling toward him. “What did you do? Why? Why would you—”

  “I didn’t!” he defended himself, shielding his face as if expecting blows. “I found him! I only…” He looked to his friend now still on the floor. “He said he wanted to splash his face with water. When I came back in to check on him, he’d… he’d…”