by J. J. Green
The man laughed. “That’s one way of dealing with complaints, I suppose.”
“I’m trying my best, but what else can I do? I’ve no idea where all those forms are that are mentioned in my file, and I don’t know what most of this stuff means. In fact, I don’t know what any of this stuff means.”
The man waved dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. No one from higher up ever said as much, but I think the idea is to frustrate the customers so much they give up complaining. The last person who took the job didn’t last more than an hour. He’s the reason you don’t have your own phone.” He nodded at a dent in the wall.
Carrie’s eyes widened. “He threw it at the wall?”
“Maintenance haven’t got around to supplying a new one. It might take a while.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can use all of yours. It isn’t like I’m on the phone for long.” She shovelled another large piece of cake into her mouth. It was delectable.
“I’m Dave, by the way.”
“Carrie.”
“Nice to meet you, Carrie.” He stood to leave.
“Hey, Dave, I’m new in town. I don’t suppose, tonight, maybe...?”
“Oh, you’re having a housewarming?”
Carrie closed her eyes as she ate the last mouthful of sweet, moist, crumbly cake. She nodded absently.
“Sure, I’ll come over. About seven?”
“Mmmm...” Carrie sighed in satisfaction and sucked chocolate cream from her teeth. As Dave left, she realised he had agreed to a date. Her first day at her new job was getting better and better.
A few minutes later the gum-chewing woman arrived to take her plate.
“Thanks,” said Carrie. “Wait a minute. Can I ask you something?”
The woman paused, holding the plate in midair.
“That guy, Dave, is he, you know, attached?”
“Don’t know. Don’t think so.”
“Oh good. He’s gorgeous, don’t you think? And he’s got great taste in clothes.”
The woman smirked. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but thought better of it, and walked away laughing.
Chapter Five – Date With Disaster
Three large glasses of wine supplied Carrie with plenty of Dutch courage by seven o’clock that evening. She’d been very forward in inviting Dave to her place almost as soon as she met him, but why waste time? A guy like that wouldn’t be single for long. You had to take your opportunities when they appeared or miss out.
It was also silly of her to invite an almost complete stranger into her home, but she didn’t think the kind of men her mother warned her about offered you cake at work.
She was pouring herself a fourth glass of wine when the doorbell sounded. Swaying slightly, Carrie held the door open for Dave. He was carrying a bottle and had changed from his work clothes into a casual jacket, black T-shirt and close-fitting jeans.
“Hi, Dave.” Carrie piped. She cleared her throat. “Hi, Dave, come in.”
He handed Carrie the bottle and looked around as he entered the hallway. “Am I the first to arrive?” He took off his jacket and hung it on the hat stand.
Closing the door, Carrie thanked him as she took the bottle, then said, “I beg your pardon?”
“Am I the first arrival? To your party.”
“Party?”
“You said you were having a housewarming.”
“Did I?” Carrie thought back. Her mind was a little foggy, but she was quite sure she hadn’t said that. Why would she invite other people to come between her and this handsome hunk? “Err...” She didn’t know what to say.
“Oh, it looks like there’s been a misunderstanding,” said Dave. There was a pause. “Maybe I should—”
“Oh, don’t go,” exclaimed Carrie as Dave took his jacket. “You’ve only just got here. I’m sorry, I probably wasn’t clear at work. First day nerves or something.”
Dave grimaced. “Sorry, Carrie, but I think maybe you’ve got—”
“Can’t you stay a little while? I’m new in this area and I don’t know anyone.” Carrie winced at the whiny tone in her voice.
Hesitating, Dave said, “What’s that scratching?” The noise was coming from Carrie’s living room door.
“Oh, that’s Rogue. He wants to say hello.”
“You’ve got a dog? Great! Can I meet him?”
Carrie opened the door, and Rogue bounded out, leapt up and began licking Dave’s face as though he were a long lost friend.
“Get down, Rogue,” said Carrie. “Dave’s a guest. Be good.” The dog dropped onto his hind quarters and wagged his tail furiously.
Dave was looking closely at the dog’s face. He swallowed hard. “Wow, he’s...”
“I know! He’s so handsome, isn’t he?”
“Well, I’m not sure...I’d go quite that far. I mean, he’s very...what I mean is...” Dave was watching Carrie’s expression. “You could say he’s kind of unusual-looking.”
“What do you mean?” Carrie’s heart sank. Was Dave going to be like Barry and hate her pets? Unusual-looking? Rogue was the best-looking dog in the world. Okay, his eyes bulged out a bit and the left side of his face didn’t match the right, but when she first got him from the rescue centre, she couldn’t believe he’d waited for months to be picked. She’d snapped him up right away and felt a little guilty for not choosing a less attractive dog who might struggle to find a home.
Dave was patting Rogue and looking towards the door.
“So you like dogs, do you?” asked Carrie. “Why don’t you stay and get to know Rogue a bit better?” She grinned hopefully.
“Hmmm, okay.”
“Yes!” Carrie clapped her hands.
“But there’s a Leonardo DiCaprio biopic on tonight. Do you mind if we watch it? I’m recording it, but I never seem to get a chance to watch anything these days, and I really wanted to see it.”
“Leonardo DiCaprio?” Carrie shrugged. “Okay.” She went to the kitchen for another glass while Dave went into the living room and turned on the television. The bright orange jumpsuit and pile of strange equipment was still on her kitchen table. Carrie had been ignoring it since she came home, uncertain of what she should do with it all. The Government would definitely be interested, but they would have also have a lot of difficult questions she couldn’t answer without them locking her up. She wondered if she could put the stuff out for recycling. Most of it seemed kind of metallic.
“It’s starting,” called Dave.
He was sitting in a corner of the sofa. Carrie plonked herself down in the middle. Dave eased closer to the edge. She handed him a glass of wine, and leaned back, resting her head on the cushions. Photographs of Leonardo DiCaprio as a baby were scrolling across the TV screen.
“Born the eleventh of November, 1974,” said Carrie, simultaneously with the narrator.
“Well done,” said Dave. “You’re a fan, too?”
“Oh no,” said Carrie. “I read it somewhere. I remember stuff like that. I’m a mine of useless information, but it comes in handy for doing pub quizzes.”
“I like pub quizzes too. What else do you like doing?”
“Bagua Zhang, an ancient Chinese martial art. It’s so cool. I’ve been doing it since I was thirteen. Do you want me show you some moves?”
“Er, no, that’s okay. I’m a bit of a film buff myself.”
Carrie nodded. “Makes sense.” Leonardo DiCaprio’s role in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape was being discussed in the documentary.
“He’s a great actor,” said Dave.
Carrie shrugged. “I suppose.”
Rogue was lying across her feet, and Toodles was in hiding somewhere, waiting for her to walk past unsuspectingly, no doubt. Such a sweet cat. Carrie was very, very relaxed, and the wine was making her head swim. She stole a look at Dave’s profile from the corner of her eye. He was so good-looking. Almost as handsome as Rogue.
Dave caught her looking at him, and she quickly looked away. He went back to watching the TV.
Carrie was sleepy. She yawned and stretched out her arms. Her right arm just happened to rest across the back of the sofa, behind Dave. He edged away. Carrie’s arm began a slow descent down the sofa back. As it touched Dave’s shoulders he scooted forward so that her arm fell onto the cushions.
He turned. “What are you doing?”
“What? I’m not doing anything.” Carrie’s cheeks flushed.
“You’ve had quite a lot to drink, haven’t you?”
“N-no...” She didn’t think so, anyway.
Dave took the remote control and turned down the volume on the TV. His expression became kind but serious. Carrie blinked. The evening didn’t seem to be going as planned.
“Carrie, it’s okay, I don’t mind. But I’m gay. I don’t make a secret of it, so I was a bit surprised at your behaviour. You only met me today, so of course you didn’t know.”
“You’re...oh.” Carrie’s head was suddenly painfully clear. “Sorry,” she said in a small voice.
“No, really, it’s okay. You don’t have anything to apologise for. It’s just a misunderstanding.” Dave turned up the TV volume and settled back. Carrie shifted to the middle of the sofa and wondered if she should move farther away, just to make clear how well she understood. The sound of the biopic commentary seemed to echo in the growing silence.
She couldn’t bear it any longer. “I suppose that happens to you a lot,” she blurted. “I mean, women...” She couldn’t think how to complete the sentence without drawing more attention to her terrible faux pas.
Without taking his eyes from the TV, Dave replied, “No, actually.”
Carrie wished the sofa cushions beneath her would slide apart so she could slip smoothly between them and down into the dark recess beneath, from which she would never, ever emerge.
Another silence stretched out. Carrie was acutely aware of Dave’s presence next to her, heavy and still. Shots of Leonardo DiCaprio flashed across the TV screen, but she couldn’t make sense of what the narrator was saying. He seemed to be speaking through cotton wool.
Dave stretched and let out a long, fake yawn. “You know, I’m really tired. I think I’ll catch the rest of this at home.”
“Don’t you want to see the rest of the programme?”
“No, like I said, I’m recording it. I’ll show myself out.”
Carrie’s face burned. “Okay, then.”
“See you at work on Monday.”
“Yes, see you.” As Dave left the room Carrie buried her head in her hands. “You stupid, stupid woman,” she mumbled. “You stupid—” Her head jerked up. The direction Dave left the living room had registered. He’d gone into the kitchen, probably to put his glass away. The kitchen, where a fluorescent orange jumpsuit and those weird, inexplicable objects were. She jumped up. “Dave,” she called.
A green glow appeared in the open doorway, and Rogue began to bark. “Dave!” From a high shelf behind her came Toodles’ yowl. Carrie ran into the kitchen. The under-sink cupboard door was open, and a glowing green mist was spilling from it. She was too late. Dave was nowhere to be seen. He must have been sucked through the mist and into that place with the terrible bug alien. She would have to go after him.
Hesitating, she looked from the open cupboard door to the table and back again. Should she take all that stuff the creature had given her? The bag to hold it all was in her bedroom, and the mist was beginning to fade. As the green glow dwindled, the cupboard door began to swing closed.
“Dave,” shouted Carrie, as she dove through the remaining gap.
Chapter Six – Bombardment
“Ow,” cried Carrie as the top of her head struck a hard surface. “I’ve got to stop doing this.” Sitting up, the first thing she noticed was that she wasn’t in the ceramic building where she had encountered the insect alien. The second thing she noticed was the sound of whimpering.
The hard object her head had struck was a massive boulder, and the whimpering was coming from Dave, who was crouched next to it. He was curled in a fetal position, his arms over his head.
“C—C—Carrie, what’s happening? Where are we?”
Surrounding the boulder was an empty, dusty plain. To their left, in the distance, was what looked like a forest of single, massive, red leaves, stiffly arched. Behind them, a pale yellow sea lapped sluggishly at the shore. The boulder, which was the same off-grey colour as the plain, rose twenty feet high, and above it a light mauve sky softly glowed.
“Err...to be honest, I don’t actually know.”
“I remember looking at some tools that were on your kitchen table, when the cupboard door under your sink opened. There was this green light and I—I...”
“Got sucked in? Yes, weird, isn’t it? It happened to me yesterday.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“No, I went somewhere else before. It was a job interview.”
Dave straightened and sat up. He wrapped his arms round his knees and swivelled his head, blinking and squinting at the alien landscape. “A job interview?”
“Yeah.” Carrie looked around. They seemed to be alone, and their entry point had, predictably, disappeared.
“What job were you interviewing for?”
How on Earth will we get back? Carrie thought.
“Carrie.”
“What?”
“What job were you interviewing for?”
“Oh...” She waved her hand in a vague gesture. “Space detective, I think it was.”
Dave shook his head. “Space detective? This is insane. I must be dreaming.”
Carrie grimaced. “Yeah, I thought that, too. But, no, it’s real. Sorry.”
His head in his hands, Dave began to moan and rock. “This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.” He lifted his head and stared at Carrie, his face white. “How do we get back? We have to go back. Now. We have to.” His eyes widened and he pointed a shaking finger at her. “That’s where you got all the stuff on your kitchen table.”
She nodded.
“I thought it looked strange. So those were, like, made by aliens?”
Carrie shrugged. “I suppose so.”
“What do you do with them? I mean, what are they for?”
“To help me do the job.”
“But...”
“They’re back there, and we’re here. Yep, that had already occurred to me.” Carrie wondered if one of the tools was to open a passage back to her kitchen. She thought it wiser not to mention the possibility.
Dave began to moan and rock again.
“Okay, okay, calm down.” Carrie tried to look calm and confident. Inside, her chest was tight and her stomach churned. She stood. “Well, first we can—”
She was thrown to the ground as a massive boom filled the air and the boulder shuddered. She yelled and grabbed Dave as he grabbed her.
“What was th—” he said as another boom came. This time it was from the sea, and a towering plume of pale yellow, gloopy liquid rose into the air.
“I don’t kn—” The boulder shuddered again, and a crack appeared, running from the top to the base.
“Are those b—b—bombs?” Dave asked. “Carrie, are we in a war zone?”
Carrie wrung her hands, trying to remember what the insect had said. She was sure it had been talking about...something. She pressed her hands to her head. Two huge explosions created a spray of the liquid that rained down on them.
“Carrie!” The next explosion widened the crack in the boulder. “Quick, let’s go there.” Dave indicated the forest of huge, single leaves. “Whoever’s attacking, they don’t seem to be attacking that.”
The two of them sped over the plain towards the leaves. A memory flashed into Carrie’s mind. Something about the orange jumpsuit. Yes, that was it. The colour was so she would stand out in...her heart sank. In conflict zones. Conflict zones like the one they were in right now. And the jumpsuit was back on Earth.
The forest drew nearer. Behind them the deafening sounds of explosi
ons continued, the ground vibrating at each one. Dave was ahead, but Carrie was gaining on him. When she drew abreast, he was red-faced and gasping.
“Come on,” she called. “Not much farther.” She silently thanked her Bagua Zhang instructor for pushing her to train outside of class time. The first leaves of the forest were only a couple of hundred feet away. As she reached the first leaf, Carrie stopped and turned. A second later Dave caught up and sank, gasping, to his knees.
“Oh, it wasn’t that far,” Carrie said.
Dave feebly waved his hand by way of reply as he drew in large lungfuls of air. “Haven’t...” pant “run like...” pant “that since I was...” pant “at school.”
In a few minutes Dave’s breathing eased, and they set off through the leaf trees. Each was nearly identical to the next. Wide, with a central rib and radiating veins, they looked like beech leaves, except several thousand times larger and a deep, unsettling red. All were facing the same way, irregularly spaced and casting a maroon shadow.
As they drew farther from the explosions, the ground vibrated less. Carrie squinted up at the cloudless sky where a small, intensely bright sun shone. A sun quite unlike the one Earth orbited. Though the temperature was balmy, Carrie shivered.
She glanced at Dave. His face had regained its colour after their run, but it was still rigid and his eyes were wide.
“Carrie,” he said, after they had walked a little farther, “what are we doing? Where are we going?”
“We’re getting away from those bombs or whatever they are.”
“But we’re far away now. We aren’t in any immediate danger. I was wondering if you’re taking us somewhere we can get back to Earth.”
“Er, I’m not sure.”
“You mean you don’t know?”
“I haven’t been here before.”
“You said you’d been for a job interview. To become a space detective.”
“Yes...but they didn’t say anything about this place.” At least, she didn’t remember anything, though she hadn’t been paying much attention at the time. Who pays attention in a dream? She decided against telling Dave about her giant bug interviewer with the razor-sharp, dripping fangs.