by Liam Brown
‘And what about you? You don’t like living alone?’
‘Are you kidding? All I ever wanted when I was growing up was a proper family. Sure, I had my mum and dad, but they hated each other. My brother and I weren’t close. Not really. I wanted the real thing. Or at least the idealised, sitcom version. To wake up next to the same person and go to bed with them at the end of the day. To eat breakfast together around a table. In-jokes. Traditions. Trust. And now… now I’m just so fucking lonely all the time…’ To my surprise, I found I was crying. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry. I don’t know how we got into all this. I’m drunk. I should be grateful for what I’ve got, right? I’m still alive. I’ve got my health. A nice house.’
‘Hey. Don’t be sorry. It’s cool. It’s good to open up. I mean, look at me. You think I don’t feel lonely sometimes?’
We were silent for a moment, his words hanging in the air, mingling with the vodka fumes. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he reached out and brushed the hair from my cheek, before letting his hand drop lower, his fingers coming to a rest against my bare neck.
I let out an involuntary gasp, a flutter of electricity shooting through my body as I pictured my whole throat turning pink, a deep warmth radiating out from the place where his fingers lay.
‘Stop,’ I murmured.
‘Stop what? I’m not doing anything.’
All the same, he left his hand there, caressing my collarbone with a surprising tenderness, his movements heavy with intent..
Later, I would ask myself why I didn’t tell him to stop. Why I didn’t just stand up and take myself off to bed. Walk away. Was it simply because I was drunk? Or on some level, had I been hoping this would happen all along? Ever since I’d first spotted that speck of orange on my computer screen. After all, it had been me who’d stalked him through the city. Me who’d returned to the school again and again. What did I think was going to happen?
In that moment, though, there was no space for analytical thought. There was only instinct. The primal sensation of touch. Warmth.
Skin on skin.
Even now, I’m still not sure who kissed whom. Only that somehow our mouths found each other in that quiet school hall, and that suddenly the world crumbled away beneath me, leaving only a few smudged vignettes to cling to in the darkness. My teeth at his throat. His hand in my hair. The desperation with which we both tore at our clothes. Sweat. Saliva.
And then he was lifting me. Hoisting me up, as if I was the child and he was the parent, before carrying me down, down, down, into the dark glow of his secret bedroom and laying me out on the bed.
After that, there was only pure sensation. The churn and shudder of our bodies as they locked together. The unbearable building of friction, every nerve ending snapping and crackling, like metal grinding metal, the sparks building to a fire so hot and intense that it tore through my foundations and melted my core. And then I was falling. Erupting. Dissolving.
When it was over, we lay clutching one another like two spent boxers, the fairy lights flickering overhead like a cartoon concussion. I tried to speak, but there was nothing to say. No words that could make it make sense. Not then. Not ever.
And so I simply crushed myself closer to him, the room already lurching away from me, rocking me towards an uneasy sleep, as if the boat was lost at sea, tossed and tussled, at the mercy of some violent and terrible storm.
PART FIVE
TWENTY-NINE
I CLUTCHED AT my throat, gasping and spluttering. I was soaked in sweat, drenched from dreams of drowning. Once I realised I wasn’t underwater, I glanced around, confused for a second as to why I appeared to be lying on the set of a 1970s porno shoot. Then I felt a sharp pain in my head, and the night before came flooding back to me in one nauseous gush. I sat up, the room threatening to wheel away from me. The bed was empty. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. All I knew was that I had to leave. I had to get out of this place. I had to get back to Amber.
With my head still spinning, I scrabbled around on the floor for my underwear, before my eyes settled on the patched suit and mask folded neatly on a chair in the corner of the room. When I’d finished getting ready, I slumped down onto the edge of the mattress, sweaty from the exertion of getting into my suit. Before I had caught my breath, I was startled by a depressingly enthusiastic thunder of footsteps, as moments later Jazz appeared in the doorway.
‘Oh, hey. You’re awake. Jeez, it smells like an oil refinery down here. Hope you’re not feeling too seasick’?
His laugh set my teeth on edge.
I looked away. Muttered something non-committal.
‘Yeah, it was a pretty heavy night, wasn’t it? Still, we had fun… Right?’
I didn’t say anything.
‘Okay. Well, anyway, I’ve made some breakfast upstairs. It’s out on the deck if you’re hungry?’
When I finally spoke, my voice was a dehydrated rasp. ‘Give me a second, will you?’
Once he was gone, I sat motionless, willing myself not to vomit. Waves of shame and regret crested and crashed over me. How could I have been so stupid? I was a grown woman for God’s sake, not some hormone-addled teenager. More than anything in the world, I wanted to disappear. To evaporate into the atmosphere. Or at the very least, to creep off the damn boat without the obligatory awkward conversation I was about to have. But there was no other way out. And so, with a sigh so deep and flammable it felt like a part of my soul was leaking out along with it, I headed up the stairs after Jazz.
By the time I reached the deck, my hangover was in full voice, my hands shaking, my stomach sour. Every step I took sent my booze-pickled brain ricocheting around my skull. Still, I felt slightly better now that I was wearing my suit and mask. It felt good to have something between me and the world. Between me and Jazz.
At the sight of me in my suit and mask, Jazz’s smile faltered slightly. He was sitting at the table, two bowls of congealed baked beans before him. The candle from the night before had melted away, while the dandelions drooped pathetically in their vase. ‘I hope you’re hungry’, he said, gesturing hopefully towards the beans.
‘You know, if it’s all the same to you I think I’m going to head off.’
Jazz looked wounded, his eyes as big and wet as a scolded puppy. ‘Really? You know what they say about breakfast being the most important meal of the day, right?’ He laughed unconvincingly.
I shook my head. Swallowed hard. ‘Listen, about last night—’
‘It’s fine. I mean, I get it.’
‘You do?’
‘Of course. You got what you wanted and now you’re leaving.’
‘Jazz. Come on. Don’t be like that.’
‘Like what? It’s true isn’t it? And it’s fine. We’re both consenting adults after all. Nobody got hurt.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Now hadn’t you better run along? Calvin’s probably waiting for you.’
‘ Colin .’
‘Whatever.’
‘Jazz…’
For a horrible moment I thought he was going to cry. For the first time since I’d met him, I saw how young he really was. Under the hair and the dirt and the sunburn. He was just a kid. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mumbled, ducking past him and heading towards the ladder.
As I did, he hissed something at me, the words buried beneath his breath.
I should have kept walking. I’d had enough fights with Amber to know not to take the bait. Instead I stopped. Turned. ‘What?’
‘I said, you’re just like my mother.’
‘And what the hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘Just that she was a real bitch, too.’
‘Oh great. So we’re doing name-calling now? Grow up, will you.’
‘Well how would you describe yourself? Last night you said you loved me. That you’d never been happier—’
‘Last night I was drunk . I didn’t know what I was saying. And maybe I was happy. I don’t know. All I know is that this morning I’ve got mo
re important things to worry about than happiness. Namely making sure my daughter is okay. And if you had any sense, you’d go and find your parents, too. Before your luck runs out and you end up getting sick.’
Jazz laughed at this. ‘Luck? And you want me to grow up.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Well look at you. You’re not exactly on your deathbed, are you? And you think that’s just down to good old-fashioned luck? Yeah right. Maybe we’re both magically immune? Like that wouldn’t be the most insane coincidence in the world.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Oh come on, Angela, isn’t it obvious? There is no virus.Or at least there isn’t one any more. Maybe there was once, but it died out years ago. Now it’s just an excuse.’
‘An excuse?’
‘To keep us in our place. To keep us tucked safely away in our rooms.’
I shook my head. Snorted. ‘Really? That’s the best you’ve got? I’m too hungover for conspiracy theories, Jazz. I’ve got to make sure Amber’s safe. I’m sorry. I really am. But that’s all that matters now. I’ll see you around.’
With that, I hauled myself over the railings and shimmied down the ladder.
‘Fine,’ Jazz yelled at me as I dashed across the school hall. ‘Go. Leave me. Just don’t blame me when you end up all on your own.’
I didn’t respond. Didn’t break stride. I was already gone.
STAGGERING THROUGH THE city, I felt sick to my stomach, my mask fogged with stale alcohol. Lurid scenes from the night before came flashing back to me. Hair. Sweat. Teeth. Flesh. I shook my head, trying to shake the images away and focus on Amber instead, her name seeming to chime with each echoing footstep:
Am-ber.
Am-ber.
Am-ber.
As I drew closer to the apartment, I attempted to tap into some long-buried maternal telepathy. As ridiculous as it sounds, I’d always imagined I was connected to the kids by some sort of psychic umbilical cord; a pure, magical bond that could traverse any locked door or solid wall. But lumbering through the deserted streets, I realised I felt nothing at all. I’d been wrong all along. The only thing that had ever connected us was Wi-Fi.
When I finally made it back, the decontamination tent seemed to take even longer than usual, the red light taunting me for what felt like centuries. Millennia. I crouched there, ready with the zip the moment it eventually turned green. When it did, I fought my way through the canvas, blundering into the hallway, my heart hammering, head spinning.
And then I stopped.
For echoing off the hallway was the familiar motorised clunk of the treadmill.
Amber.
She was safe.
She was home.
Relief flooded through me. After all the days of worry, I felt like I could finally breathe again. I stood there in the hall, listening for a moment. She sounded as if she was moving more gently than usual, her signature thud missing, replaced with the simple whir of the belt, as if she were only walking. Trudging on the spot. Who could blame her after everything she’d been through? The poor girl was probably exhausted. I stared at her bedroom door longingly. I wanted to break it down. To see her one last time in person. To apologise for letting her go. To promise I’d never leave her again.
But I didn’t do that. It wasn’t worth the risk.
And so, returning to my bedroom, I decided to text her instead.
As I rushed to retrieve my phone from its charger, I saw random medical supplies from the first-aid box were still scattered across my bed. The sight of them instantly brought back memories of Jazz. Of the night before. I took a deep breath. While Amber might be safe, I still had a world of trouble ahead of me. I still had to explain to Colin where I’d been for the last four days.
Amongst the supplies, I spied a box of aspirin. I didn’t take one, though. I didn’t deserve pain relief. I needed to suffer. Instead, I reached for my phone, punching my PIN in with shaking fingers, then tapped out a quick message to Amber.
Hey. Are you all right? Glad you got back okay X
I felt like I was going to hyperventilate.
While I waited for her response, I scrolled through my other messages and missed calls. To my surprise, there were hardly any. A single sentence from my boss, hoping that I felt better soon. A few from clients. Nothing that mattered. Nothing from the kids, obviously. Amber was probably still angry with me. And I wasn’t exactly expecting Charlie to reach out. But to hear nothing from Colin? That was strange. I suddenly had a terrible thought. What if Amber had made it back and told him where I’d been? It was the only explanation. He’d probably been online and arranged a divorce by now. Or else gone straight ahead and contacted the police. I had to find out.
I hovered over Colin’s last message to me:
Shall we talk?
I pressed his name, feeling like a condemned woman.
As his phone rang, I realised I was holding my breath. He wasn’t going to answer. He knew where I’d been. What I’d done.
And then suddenly, just like that, he picked up.
‘Hello, love.’
It was a trap. It had to be.
‘Um, hi,’ I said, my voice little more than a whisper. ‘I mean, hello. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you.’
Pause.
‘To get back to me?’
‘Yes. You said you wanted to talk?’
‘Oh right. That. Sorry. I’ve just been so busy with everything I guess I lost track.’
‘With work?’
‘Of course. I mean, you’ve seen the news. It’s been insane here. Hey, are you okay? You sound kind of strange?’
‘Actually, I’ve been under the weather for the last few days. Out of the loop. So I haven’t seen—’
‘The news? Probably for the best. It’s been a bit of a roller coaster. The press have been like hyenas, of course. Calling constantly. Looking for a quote. VR company in major security breach . The sort of headlines you never want to wake up to. We took the videos down immediately, but the word still got out. Our tech guys still haven’t managed to trace the culprit yet by the way.’
‘So Charlie…’
‘Well. Like I say. They haven’t pinned it on anyone yet.’
‘Have you talked to him?’
‘I think Charlie still needs a little more time. I’ve decided the best thing to do is to be hands-off and let him come to me when he’s ready. Anyway, if I’m honest I should probably thank him.’
‘Thank him?’
‘Yeah. Funny thing, publicity. Since reports of the attack started leaking out, things have kind of mushroomed here. We’ve had more enquiries than we know what to do with. Our share price has rocketed. It turns out you can’t buy this kind of coverage. My boss is delighted…’
Colin babbled on for a while. As he did, I felt the events of the past four days receding like a bad dream. I was safe. And, while she still hadn’t responded yet, Amber was safe, too. Maybe everything really could just slot back to the way it was before? And yet, despite my relief, I couldn’t help feeling a pang of disappointment. How could Colin have failed to notice I’d been gone for all this time? It was ridiculous. Was he really that preoccupied with work? Or was it more than that? Perhaps not being able to physically see me any more made it easier to forget about me? Had I just become one more open tab on his browser? Interchangeable with his other Internet girls at the click of a mouse, the swipe of a screen.
‘So what do you think?’ Colin asked.
I hadn’t been listening. ‘About what?’
‘About tonight? Like I just said, we’ve got a closed demo session running later this evening. The system’s still in beta at the moment, so it’s entry by invite only. It tends to be a pretty exclusive list, but I think I can probably get you in. If you want that is? You’re always saying you want to find out more about what I do at work.’
I closed my eyes. I still felt wretched. I needed to eat. To wash. To sleep. The last thing I wanted
to do was spend the evening playing computer games with a bunch of geeks. Nevertheless, I felt an overwhelming urge to make amends for my actions the previous night. It looked like this was to be my penance. ‘That sounds lovely.’
‘Great. I’ve got a spare headset and gloves here. I can drop them over to the quarantine tent now and you can pick them up later. The session starts at eight-thirty, but I’ll send you over all the details. You’re going to love it.’
‘Well thanks. I guess.’
‘You know, I think it’s really great that you’re showing an interest in this. I know things have been tough lately with the kids and everything, but it’s nice to know that when it comes down to it we’re still a team. We still… Oh shit, that’s my boss on the other line. I’ll catch you later tonight?’
‘I can’t wait,’ I croaked. ‘I literally can’t wait.’
THIRTY
BY THE TIME we had endured our fourth interrogation in less than three hours, we had long since stopped protesting about the repetition of details. We knew the drill by then. ID and driving licence. Names, addresses, vehicle registration. Were we carrying any firearms, explosives, weapons, drugs or live animals with us? Had we experienced fevers, chills, sore throats or sensitivity to light in the last fourteen days? In return for our answers, we were each examined by a masked soldier with the word Medic stencilled on the back of their white hazmat suit. A torch was shone in our eyes, our temperatures taken, our cheeks swabbed, before we were at last permitted to drive on. The first time it happened, Amber burst into tears, prompting the medic to confer with her colleague, as if Amber’s distress might be symptomatic of some underlying pathological condition. At last she begrudgingly waved us on. We were free to go. At least until we reached the next checkpoint, when the whole miserable routine would start all over again.
Others weren’t so lucky. More than once we saw cars being filtered away from the main road, the soldiers evidently unhappy with one or more of the passengers’ answers or vital signs. From my restricted view, it looked like these cars were simply parked up on the side of the road and abandoned, while the occupants were led away towards a waiting military truck, to be taken God only knows where.