Rollerskater: Ghosts
Jump to: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X
This instalment of Rollerskater is dedicated to my grandfather, who reached
eighty years of age in the week of publication, and without whom,
I would not be as curious as I turned out to be.
Jack-o’-lantern bunting fluttered in the breeze, and people sat on the steps between the squares, dressed in all manner of costume – comic book characters and horror movie villains, creatures of folklore, a handful of people dressed as politicians current, recent and past, and the lazier among them simply wearing T-shirts featuring horror movie posters and icons.
Glow-in-the-dark skeleton decorations hung in windows around campus, and fake bloody handprints could be seen in the windows of a few kitchens in the campus accommodation blocks.
All Hallow’s Eve had come once again.
The university had been closed for a couple of weeks following the siege, but had been quickly reopened due to complaints from both the lecturers’ union and the student union about the loss of teaching time, and so the university’s governing council, somewhat reluctantly, had reopened the university’s grounds after much of the debris had been cleared, and that which could not be repaired within the timeframe stipulated had been cordoned off. The student body were perfectly aware that something was going on with the girl in the rollerskates and the people in her orbit, but they were paying over nine grand a year for an education and they were damned if they were going to leave now because of some magical hijinks.
So it had come to pass that the university had reopened in time for Halloween, a holiday that had until quite recently been rarely, if ever, celebrated in England, until the United States had reimported it to its mother nation through various cultural exports – television sitcoms and movies, largely.
K-Os and Socks sat outside the student union bar at a dusty green table that felt like it was more paint than wood.
“Coming to the show tonight?” Socks asked.
“I’d like to,” K-Os replied.
“I’m glad Ella Foe and the Oscillations are back making music, that’s for sure.”
K-Os looked up at the bunting, which seemed almost to laugh in the breeze.
“The question is, does Daisy want me there?”
“She’s still sore about things,” Socks replied. “Understandably, don’t get me wrong.”
K-Os adjusted the shoulder of her vest top idly.
“If I may confide in you, Socks, I still feel…guilty about…what happened. I wish I could make things right.”
Just then, Socks spotted a person moving through the square, dressed in a pair of pink dungarees embroidered on the chest piece with an image of a stegosaurus, and a white blouse, carrying a large black case on her back (which Socks knew to be empty). Her curled bob framed her face. She had an anxious expression.
“Hey!” Socks called. “Daisy!” He placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled.
Daisy looked at him, and seemed for a moment to consider simply carrying on to her destination without acknowledging the proposition, but reconsidered it at the last minute, walking over to see them.
“What’s up, Stephen?” she said.
“You never call me that,” Socks replied.
“We’re still not exactly on speaking terms.”
“Understandable.” Socks smiled awkwardly. “Er…me and K-Os were just saying that we were thinking of coming to your show tonight.”
Daisy had an expression that indicated she was frustrated that she had been forced to acknowledge the rollerskater in the room.
“It’s fine,” she said. “But…we’re doing something different this time.”
“How do you mean?”
“It’s just the three of us now,” Daisy said. “I mean, Jules’s spirit or whatever is still inside my guitar, but it isn’t him any more…and we just didn’t feel right carrying on being a shoegazing band without him. Out of respect for Jules’s guitar playing, and to take the load off Lewis…we’re doing something different.”
“I look forward to it,” K-Os said. “I’ve…missed your music, Daisy.”
Daisy looked both flattered and infuriated.
“Thanks,” she said. “Thanks, that…means a lot.”
She walked away.
Socks watched after her, then checked his watch.
“Look at the time,” he said. “I’d better get to my first class. I’m just gonna go grab a drink in the campus shop.”
“See you later,” K-Os said.
Socks quickly made his way up the steps to the next square, weaving around girls dressed as witches and men dressed as Frankensteins. The goth kids were having a field day, they didn’t have to change a thing.
He took a left and went into the campus shop and over to the chiller cabinet, where there were bottles of water, as well as the requisite selection of soft drinks.
He picked out a bottle of strawberry-flavoured water, then made his way to the queue.
It had still been less than a year since the Christmas party that had changed everything. When the day came, he wasn’t sure how he was going to take it, if he was being honest with himself. A year can sometimes be a really long time.
“‘Scuse me,” a voice said.
Socks turned.
There was a young man behind him, white-skinned and blond but tanned, wearing a white polo shirt and blue jeans.
“You that guy who hangs around with that weird rollerskater girl?”
Socks laughed. “Yeah, I am. What’s up?”
The man did not laugh. As Socks looked into his eyes, he saw flashes of familiar emotion – panic, anxiety, distress.
“You deal with weird shit, yeah? Heard about what happened…with the helicopters and stuff. I…was wondering if you could…help me?”
“Sure,” Socks said. “What with?”
The poor guy appeared to be on the verge of tears.
“Fuck, man, I…Jesus…”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Socks said. “C’mon, let’s leave the queue. I’ll talk to you outside.”
“Okay,” the young man said. Socks abandoned the bottle of water and they left the shop, and got some fresh air.
He looked young. Socks himself was young, but the guy was younger than him. The guy looked eighteen or nineteen. Probably a first year.
“What’s going on?” Socks asked.
“It’s…my girlfriend,” he said. “Naomi. She…she disappeared last night. We had an argument and she’s just…she’s vanished, man. I don’t know what I’m going to…Jesus, man…”
“Breathe,” Socks said. “Have you tried calling her?”
“Mate, Naomi, she…she’s gone, man. Her social media is gone, I can’t find her number on my phone…our entire text history is just gone…what if she’s done something stupid? Oh, Jesus, man…it was just an argument.” He burst into tears. “Jesus Christ, man…”
Socks put a hand on his shoulder sympathetically.
“Hey,” he said. “We’ll find her, don’t worry. I’ll take you to K-Os now.”
“Oh God…what’ll she think of me crying like this?”
“She’s seen it all,” Socks said. “Trust me.”
“Alright,” the young man said, sniffling.
“What’s your name, by the way?” Socks asked, starting down the stairs.
“Erm…Hugh,” the young guy said. “And you?”
“Socks.”
“…Socks?”
“Yeah. Stephen Oxford. S. Oxford. Soxford. Socks. You get it.”
Hugh followed Socks down the steps to the area outside the student union bar, where K-Os was sitting at a table, talking with a young woman.
“Hey, K-Os,” Socks said. “Change of plans. This guy has just come up to me looking for his girlfriend.”
K-Os stopped talking, turned and looked at Socks. “Interesting,” she said. “This young woman here is looking for her boyfriend.”
“What did you say her name was?” Socks said.
“N…Naomi,” Hugh said.
K-Os turned to the young woman. “What’s your name?”
“N…Naomi,” the young girl said. “Please help me find Hugh. Oh, it was a stupid argument, for God’s sake…where could he have got to?”
Socks smiled. “He’s right here,” he said, gesturing to Hugh.
The young girl looked him up and down.
“Is that meant to be some kind of joke?” she snarled. “My boyfriend’s missing, you arsehole.”
“Who are you talking to?” Hugh said, desperately. “Are you winding me up or helping me?”
Socks and K-Os looked at each other, then at Hugh and Naomi. Both of them were looking directly at where the other was. Nothing in their faces suggested recognition.
“Huh,” Socks said. “That’s…new.”
*
The Captain had been awaiting his orders.
The government had purged all record of his previous identity. They had chosen him for it as he had no close relatives, lovers or children to mourn him. His birth certificate had been destroyed. He did not have a death certificate. One who has never been born cannot die. Whatever given name he once had was now just a false memory. For all intents and purposes, the Captain no longer existed. He had become a ghost.
He lived in an abandoned warehouse inside an industrial estate next to a railway line, close to the agreed dead drop location, which he checked at oh-nine-thirty every morning. His beard had grown unkempt; while the government had provided him rations to eat, they had little concern for grooming items.
It was the twenty-second of October when he checked the dead drop by the railway, and finally found a small black plastic film canister, containing a message passed through a cipher, which, when decoded, gave two sets of coordinates: one a position where he could rendezvous with the new SAID troops (he had been assured that they were better prepared this time) and one a position to strike at, along with a date: 31/10. No other information.
Come Halloween, he ate his breakfast (a simple cereal bar with a small carton of lukewarm orange juice), and did his best to wash himself in what had once been an employee breakroom, then opened the red envelope that he had been instructed not to open until the day came. The envelope contained instructions on how to get to the rendezvous point, and a brief summary of the mission. Studying it carefully, he nodded, then left the warehouse, taking nothing with him. He did not exist, after all, and as such had no need for material possessions.
In the street outside the industrial estate was a third-generation Ford Escort with blue bodywork. The doors were unlocked and the keys were already in the ignition. The car smelled of cigarettes and old age. It had most likely belonged to someone who had died with their estate bona vacantia, with no will and no relatives to claim possessions held intestate. The state had made use of the goods held therein. In fact, it was likely that the government had bought the car from itself at auction. The result was this: Cheap, disposable motorised transport. It only had to survive one journey.
He turned the key in the ignition and the car’s engine made a sound like a horse with bronchitis, before groaning to life.
He drove using his map, taking the required diversions. He couldn’t use satellite navigation for this reason, too easy to track, even in a non-networked vehicle like this. These days they wired all sorts of crap into car dashboards and engines, and it attracted the likes of the Guoanbu and the SVR like ants to a droplet of sugar-water.
He arrived, eventually, in a small village by a river. There was an old Victorian water-tower across the river, which was visible from the cobbled roadway where he parked his car by an old grain warehouse that had been converted into a block of flats. He got out of the car and tossed the keys into the river. Yobbos could hot-wire it, crash it into the river and drown themselves for all he cared; it didn’t belong to him either way.
He pressed the button for the intercom. A hissing buzz came from the speaker.
“What’s your favourite colour?”
“Green,” the Captain responded.
“Let me put that another way: How do you take your coffee?”
“No salt.”
There was a pause, as if considering.
“What did you say your favourite colour was?”
“Baby powder.”
“Okay. And your name?”
“Bethany.”
“Bethany…where are you from, Bethany?”
“Cockaigne.”
Another pause.
“The barbershop dreams well, so I hear.”
“Stiff rubber.”
“Jericho, silicon please.”
“tuffm im zimbrabrim”
There was a final, very long pause.
The door came open with a click.
“Good afternoon, sir,” said a soldier, standing at the top of a set of stairs. “Sorry about all that, we had to be sure it was you.”
“Leave the niceties for later, Mister Carlson. I want to see these men you’ve brought me. I hope they’re better than the last lot.”
Carlson stamped his foot, straightened his back and saluted. “Yes, sir!”
“As I said, Mister Carlson. Leave the niceties for later.”
The Captain’s tone was as chillingly even and stoic as it had ever been. Back in the days before the Episode, his own commanding officer had been frightened of him. The Captain was the sort of man who could garotte someone to death with the same skilful precision and boredom as someone sewing a button on to a shirt.
They proceeded up the stairs, and Carlson, the Operations Officer for SAID-MI5, opened the door. They entered an apartment, inside which was a group of soldiers – the Captain counted eleven – all of whom stood as soon as the door opened and saluted.
“Just eleven soldiers?” the Captain enquired.
“Yes, sir,” Carlson replied. “The government feels that a more subtle and stealthy approach is key to getting these people under control.”
The captain regarded him for a few moments.
“Yes, I suppose they have a point,” he said. He turned to the men, still saluting.
“Stand at ease,” he commanded, and they removed their hands from their foreheads, standing with their arms loose by their sides but their legs and backs straight.
The Captain looked them over.
“You have all been selected for a very special purpose,” he said. “You are considered to be among our most élite non-commissioned officers. All of you hold honours well surpassing your comrades across the branches. All of you have gone above and beyond the normal call of duty. You are competent. The Secretary of State for Defence hand-picked you for conscription into the Secret Anomalous Investigations Division of the Security Service. There is an enemy hiding in our midst, gentlemen.”
The Captain seated himself. Carlson handed him a manila envelope.
“You will be aware by now of the Episode that took place earlier this year, in which everyone in the world lost a week of their life. Her Majesty’s Government believes that they have managed to trace the Episode’s source to somewhere close to where we are currently standing. We believe that it may have something to do with this woman.”
The Captain reached into the envelope and retrieved a photograph taken some months earlier. A woman with purple hair was standing on a street corner, wearing a pair of golden rollerskates.
The Captain’s old subordinates would likely have fought to suppress a giggle upon seeing this image. Not one of the eleven men reacted with anything even resembling amusement. The Captain was impressed – no small feat. These men really were professionals.
“Tonight we strike at the university once again,” the Captain said. “We are using a smaller force, and will be using subterfuge and discreet tactics to infilitrate. Our long-range chaotic fluctuation detectors have discovered a series of fluctuations on the university grounds. We know that the people we fought are there, but they are using some unknown tactic to mask their fluctuations. It seems that a new source of chaotic fluctuation has been discovered. Our mission is to capture this individual before they disappear, without attracting too much attention. The government has given us carte blanche to decide how we choose to proceed. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, sir!” the soldiers responded.
“Good,” the Captain responded. “Then we commence preparations for tonight. At twenty-two-hundred hours, we strike.”
*
K-Os lived in the same flat she had lived in last year. It was strange for Socks to be back here again. He still remembered waking up in the bedroom on the morning after the night that changed his life forever.
The other two had taken considerable convincing; neither Naomi or Hugh believed that the other was with them and were convinced that they were being wound up. It was only after some very stern words from K-Os that they had both decided to come with her. It seemed that after babysitting the human race for over two-hundred-thousand-odd years she had become very good at disciplining them into compliance, like a professional nanny who has seen just about every tantrum in the book and knows how to counteract it before it’s even started.
“I don’t know why I’m even here,” Hugh said. “My girlfriend’s missing and you’ve got me walking all around the houses.”
“I keep telling you,” K-Os said. “She’s with us.”
“Who the hell are you talking to?” Naomi asked. “Christ, I wish you’d stop doing that.”
K-Os simply rolled her eyes. “Into the kitchen,” she said. “Now.”
The two of them walked side-by-side, but neither perceiving the other, into K-Os’s kitchen area. Nobody else lived in K-Os’s flat, so it was empty and the cupboards were bare, which meant that there was no dampening of sound from objects in the kitchen, creating an unpleasant and eerie echo.
“Wait here,” K-Os said. “Do not move.”
Naomi folded her arms and Hugh huffed. Socks was left alone with them both.
“So she’s your friend, is she?” Hugh asked, testily.
“Yes,” Socks said. “We’ve, er, been friends for about a year now.”
“I’ve heard rumours about you both,” Naomi said. “Every time something weird happens in this country, that rollerskater has something to do with it.”
“That’s a fair assessment,” Socks said.
Hugh scowled. “I don’t believe you’re talking to anyone. My girlfriend is missing. You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”
“No,” Socks said. “She really is standing right next to you.”
“Yeah?” Hugh said. “What if I do this?”
He swung his arm in Naomi’s direction and unconsciously his arm passed in an arc around her body. The movement didn’t even disturb Naomi’s long, chestnut-brown hair.
“See?” Hugh said. “Nothing there. Fuck, my girlfriend is missing and you’re mugging me off.”
Socks blinked. This really was weird.
K-Os returned with a handheld device about the size of a portable radio, covered in switches, with a carry-handle.
“What the fuck is that?” Naomi asked. “Oh God, are you people aliens?”
“Something like that,” K-Os said. “Now shut up and stand still.”
The device had a small handheld directional scanner connected to a length of cable, which K-Os removed from the device casing.
“What are you doing to me?” Hugh said. “You’d better not be putting that up my—”
“I will if you don’t shut up,” K-Os said.
K-Os flipped the switch and immediately the device made a bleedle-eedle-eedle-eedle-eedle-eedle noise.
“One of you,” K-Os said, adjusting sensitivity switches, “Is giving off heavy chaotic fluctuations.”
She approached Hugh first, scanning up and down with the handheld device. The device’s wheedling squeal became quieter.
“Hm,” K-Os said.
“Satisfied now?” Hugh asked.
“I’d be much more satisfied if you’d be quiet,” K-Os replied.
Socks smiled awkwardly at Hugh. K-Os’s people skills were not the best.
Then K-Os approached Naomi, and scanned her. The device’s squeal became almost unbearably loud, leading K-Os to switch it off.
“There we are,” she said. “It’s Naomi.”
“What?” Naomi said.
“You have superpowers,” Socks said.
“What?”
“You can remove yourself from another person’s perception simply by willing it to be,” K-Os said. “In other words, you can make yourself invisible to other people, but at the cost that they become equally as invisible to you.”
“Like blocking someone on Facebook,” Socks said. “Right?”
Naomi looked at them both.
“This is a joke, isn’t it?” she said.
Socks sighed, and held up the residual limb on his left arm.
On his command, a crystalline left forearm manifested with its strange, claw-like hand.
“That’s my secret,” Socks said. “Don’t tell the disability team, I’ve got someone taking my notes for me.”
Naomi covered her mouth. “Oh,” she said, strangely. “Oh dear…”
She went very pale.
“K-Os,” Socks said. “K-Os, she’s going to—”
“Who are you talking to?!” Hugh bellowed.
Naomi began to faint.
“Catch her!” K-Os shouted.
Socks caught her in his arms.
“Culture shock,” Socks said, looking up at Hugh.
Hugh’s mouth was agape.
“What?” Socks asked.
“As you caught her…” he said. “As you caught her, I saw her…she flickered in and out…”
He covered his mouth.
“Oh my God,” he said. “It’s for real…it’s for fucking real…”
Naomi roused from her faint.
“I feel sick,” she complained. Then she started to cry. “Oh God,” she said. “It’s all real…Hugh’s here, isn’t he? Oh…I just want to see him again…”
“Everyone who gets chaotic powers finds it hard to control them at first,” K-Os said. She crouched down to meet Naomi’s eyeline. “Listen to me, Naomi. You made him disappear. You can bring him back. You just have to focus.”
“What do you know?” Naomi asked.
“She’s sixty-five million years old,” Socks said. He immediately regretted it, as he anticipated Naomi fainting in his arms again.
Instead, Naomi looked up at him, then at K-Os. “She doesn’t look it.”
“I moisturise,” K-Os said, sarcastically.
“Perhaps it’s like an optical illusion,” Socks suggested. “Like a Magic Eye picture, or the spinning ballerina. You need to focus on what’s not there.”
Socks looked up at Hugh. Naomi tried to follow his eyeline, squinting.
“I don’t see him,” she said.
“Look,” K-Os said. “Look closer.”
“But there’s nothing there.”
Hugh was simply standing, dumbfounded as K-Os and Socks appeared to be talking to thin air.
“Concentrate, Naomi,” Socks said, pointing. “He’s standing right there.”
Naomi looked harder.
“There’s nobody there…nothing there…”
“Look,” K-Os said. “Look at the space where he would be. Your abilities are filtering him out, creating a blind spot. You’re seeing my kitchen wall, but it’s an illusion, Naomi. It’s all an illusion.”
“I don’t understand…how can there be something there when there’s nothing…”
Naomi started suddenly.
“Sweetheart?” Hugh said.
“I…I saw something. Something flickering…”
Naomi stood, steadying herself against the counter. She still hadn’t quite recovered from the faint.
“Oh my God…” Hugh said. “I saw her…just for a second. Naomi! I’m here, baby!”
“Hugh?” Naomi called.
Socks and K-Os looked at each other.
The two of them walked blindly around the kitchen, expertly dodging each other’s movements, never touching…
Naomi turned suddenly.
“There’s a shape…” she said, pointing at Hugh. “It’s flat, but getting more solid…oh my God…it’s like a flower opening up…”
Hugh stood still, not daring to move and break her concentration. Naomi’s hand slowly rose up to cover her mouth.
“…oh my God, Hugh…it’s you…baby, it’s you!”
“Naomi?” Hugh said.
“Can you see me?” Naomi asked.
Hugh covered his mouth, then, and let a couple of tears fall down his cheeks.
“Yes…” he said. “I can see you.”
At this, they both ran into each other’s arms, embracing and kissing.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Naomi said. “These two helped me find you.”
She gestured to K-Os and Socks, who were standing next to each other, standing a little uncomfortably as if they were intruding on something.
“I know, baby,” Hugh said. “I’ve been here the whole time.”
“Right,” Naomi said. “Yes. Sorry, I…I’m confused about all this…but you’re here! You’re here and I love you so much…”
They embraced again.
Socks cleared his throat a little uneasily.
“Glad we could help,” he said.
“Sorry we got angry at you,” Hugh said.
“You were scared,” Socks said.
Naomi looked at the ground, pulling away from Hugh.
“Problem is,” she said, “I’m still scared, even now…what if it happens again and I can’t reverse it?”
“Come and find me,” K-Os said. “I will help you.”
“Thanks, K-Os,” Naomi said. “I’m sorry I thought you were weird.”
“I’m more than sixty-five million years old,” K-Os replied, dismissively. “The opinion of a nineteen year old woman is about as offensive to me as the opinion of a mayfly is to you.”
Naomi went quiet very suddenly.
“I’m twenty, actually,” she said.
Socks cleared his throat again.
“I’m happy to support you,” he said. “I’ve been through all that and more. Nothing fazes me any more.”
“Really?” Hugh asked.
“Last week I fought a robot in my friend’s house,” Socks said, puffing his chest out. “I didn’t…win, or anything, but I did fight her.”
Naomi and Hugh looked at each other.
“…right,” Naomi said.
“I’ll be back in just a moment,” K-Os said. “Wait here.”
“Of…course,” Naomi said, watching her leave.
“You going to the show tonight?” Socks asked, trying to keep the conversation light.
“I wasn’t thinking of it, but now…” Naomi said. “What do you think, babe?”
Hugh looked at the ground, then at her.
“I think that’d be good,” he said. “You were only gone a few hours but…God, I missed you so much.”
“Then it’s a date,” Naomi said, kissing him on the cheek. She turned to Socks. “See you tonight, I suppose! I didn’t catch your name, sorry.”
“Socks,” Socks replied. “You need help finding your way home?”
“I think we’ll be alright,” Hugh said. “My gaff’s a short walk from here.”
“See you, then,” Socks said.
K-Os returned.
“Before you go,” she said. “Naomi, take this and look after it.”
She held in her hand a small ring into which a series of penumbric crystals had been set.
“What’s this?” Naomi said, sliding the ring on to her finger.
“Protection,” K-Os said. “It stops the government coming after you.”
“Oh…” Naomi said. “Is that a concern I should have, then?”
“Yes,” K-Os said, succinctly. “You may now leave.”
“Of…course,” Naomi said. “Thank you. Sorry, did you say the government is going to come after me?”
“Not if you wear that crystal,” K-Os said. “Goodbye.”
The two looked at each other and then made their way out.
K-Os and Socks watched them go.
Socks sighed. “Ah, l’amour,” he said, half in jest. “Do you ever wish you could—”
“No,” K-Os said, abruptly.
“I figured.”
“Keep an eye on them. I am concerned for their safety.”
“I will,” Socks said. “No sweat. Just do me a favour.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t go off dancing like you did last time.”
K-Os rolled her eyes.
“Fine,” she said.
“I’ll see you later,” Socks said, walking towards the front door. “I’ve got to get a costume together.”
“You’re wearing a costume?”
“Not all of us can be as weird as you year-round, K-Os.”
“I shall take that as a compliment.”
Socks smiled, and K-Os returned the favour.
“See you tonight, Socks.”
“You too, K-Os. You too.”
*
“Shit!” a soldier shouted.
The unmarked van was beginning to move into position, entering a car park a short distance from the campus.
“What’s the matter?” the Captain asked.
“We just lost the trace, sir. I’ve switched back and forth from directional to omnidirectional detection, sir. I think they must have found the target, sir. Requesting orders, sir.”
The Captain’s facial expression did not change.
“We still strike tonight,” he said. “If we cannot capture the target, we’ll capture one of them instead. I am assuming you have all studied the bodycam photographs from the last siege well?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Good,” the Captain said. “Let’s go hunting.”
*
The student union bar was relatively empty, though beginning to fill up. Its central area had been converted into a stage. Daisy thanked God that they hadn’t yet managed to fix the damage dealt to the nightclub during the battle that had now never happened, even though it had taken from her the one boy she’d ever wanted to make a life with. She wouldn’t have been able to perform there.
“Remember,” she said to Lewis and Ollie, “We’re doing this for Jules.”
“This is the first time we’ve performed since…what happened,” Ollie said. “I’m ready to perform, but the question is…are you, Daisy?”
Daisy sighed and looked at the ground. “I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to perform again after we…after we lost him…”
She trailed off for a moment and was allowed a few seconds to regain composure. “…but Jules wouldn’t want us to break up. People really liked us. I don’t want to let that all go to waste.”
“Right,” Ollie said. “But are you ready, Daisy?”
“As long as I’ve got that guitar around my neck, I’m ready for anything.”
Lewis was tuning his guitar.
“It just seems strange to be doing this without him,” he said. “I keep forgetting that he’s gone.”
“We’ll be fine,” Daisy said. “Trust me.”
Pushing through the crowd came a familiar face.
It was Socks. He was wearing a pair of blue teashades – Daisy hadn’t seen him wear them in about a year – and a linen shirt with brown corduroy trousers and brown leather shoes.
“Hi,” he said. “Thought I’d come to see how things are going.”
“Well,” Daisy said, bluntly. “Erm…who are you supposed to be dressed as?”
Socks smiled slightly.
“Andy Partridge,” he said.
“Alan Partridge?” Ollie asked.
“No, Andy—”
It was too late, Ollie was already breaking into a fit of high-pitched giggles.
“‘A-ha!’” Ollie quoted, which caused Daisy and Lewis to begin laughing as well.
“Andy Partridge, from XTC,” Socks said. “My Dad’s favourite band. I’m a fan too.”
“I think it’s much better as an Alan Partridge costume,” Daisy said, teasingly.
“Since when has Alan Partridge ever worn blue John Lennon sunglasses?”
Ollie continued to piss himself with laughter.
“‘Lynn, I’ve pierced me foot on a spaaaiiiik…’”
Socks made an exasperated expression.
“You’ve cheered us up, Socks,” Daisy said. “Thank you.”
“See you later,” Socks said. His expression softened slightly. “Good luck with the show.”
He walked away to get a drink from the bar.
“He is funny, that fella,” Ollie said.
“I hung out with him a lot in first year,” Daisy said. “We’ve drifted apart a bit.”
Ollie went quiet again.
“He had something to do with Jules, didn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Daisy said. “It wasn’t his fault, not really…but he could have told me something and he didn’t. At the time, I blamed him. I still do, a bit. I guess it was all new to him as well…I just don’t feel ready to forgive him yet, you know?”
“I get you,” Ollie said. “I’m still getting used to the fact that the memories I have of that night didn’t actually…happen. Even though they did, ‘cause otherwise we’d be playing the nightclub. But they didn’t. Christ, that rollerskater does my fucking nut in. It’s all contradictions with her. She’s like a living, I dunno, like a paradox. Everything around her seems to go to fucking Pluto right quick.”
“And yet, she’s the best hope we’ve got against the government,” Daisy said. She idly touched the crystal hanging around her neck. “Right,” she said. “Enough moping. We’ve got a show to prepare for.”
All three set about preparing themselves.
Outwardly, Daisy was all confidence and bluster, but inside, she was terrified. But she had to do it. For Jules. He deserved that much.
She only hoped that Ella Foe was ready to be her for a while.
*
“Who are you supposed to be, then?” Max asked.
“Andy Partridge,” Socks said, looking down into his beer. “No, not Alan Partridge.”
“Never heard of him,” Max said. “Can you guess who I’m dressed as?”
Max had a truly impressive collection of check shirts – Socks had never seen him in the same shirt twice. Tonight was no different – he was wearing a check shirt under a corduroy jacket with boot-cut jeans. Socks looked him up and down.
“Er…yourself?”
Max laughed. “No. Come on, man! It’s Halloween! Famous horror movie!”
“I give up.”
“You’re no fun, you are. I’m Jack Torrance.”
“Who?”
“From The Shining? Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining?”
“I’ve not seen it. Only the Treehouse of Horror parody on The Simpsons.”
“How have you not seen The Shining? For shame, Oxford.”
The sun had just set, and it was dim blue twilight. Socks had the crystal that had become Monica in his pocket.
He wondered, idly, where Liberty was at the moment. As far as he could tell, neither he, nor anybody else, had heard from her since the university siege. He presumed that she was looking for her father. That was the thing with K-Os’s entourage, people just came and went as they pleased. You never could keep track of everyone.
Socks sipped the beer.
“I suppose we should head inside the bar,” Socks said. “Daisy tells me that Ella Foe and the Oscillations are doing something different now.”
“I guess they would have to,” Max said. “After…well, you know.”
Socks finished up his beer, and they headed inside. Among the crowd they met Alessi, who had changed her hair over the summer and now wore it in a pixie-cut.
“Hey,” she said to Socks. “I haven’t seen you around much. How was your summer?”
“Uneventful,” Socks said. “I haven’t seen you since summer term.”
“Time flies,” Alessi said, cheerfully.
“It certainly does,” Socks said. And yet, sometimes a year can be a long time, he thought.
He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around.
“You made it!” he said, looking into the smiling faces of Naomi and Hugh.
“New friends, Socks?” Max asked.
“We met just this morning,” Socks said, with a wry smile.
“Ah!” Alessi exclaimed. “You are what they call a, ah, social butterfly.”
“Naomi, Hugh, this is Max and Alessi,” Socks said. “Max and Alessi, Naomi and Hugh.”
“Nice to meet you,” Naomi said. “This band that’s playing tonight…I read what happened in the spring. That’s so messed up.”
Alessi’s cheery face fell.
“Yes,” she said. “I was…a good friend of…Jules. Daisy…did not take it well.”
Socks felt uncomfortable.
“I’m going to get a drink,” Socks said. “Do you want anything?”
“I’m not drinking tonight,” Max said, with a grin. He reached into the corduroy jacket and from a pocket removed a plastic baggie, which contained a sheet of perforated paper printed with a picture of Spider-Man.
“Is that acid?” Hugh asked.
“Shhhh!” Max said. “Keep it down. I’m gonna swallow a tab in the gender neuts. By the time the show starts I’m going to be talking to fucking Martians.”
“You’re going to take acid dressed as Jack Torrance?” Alessi said. “That will end well.”
Max grinned. “See, Socks?” he said. “She got my costume.”
“And who are you dressed as?” Alessi asked Socks.
Socks sighed.
“Alan Partridge.”
*
Infrared goggles were on. Their weapons were loaded. They had lost the trace, yes, but that didn’t mean they were going home empty-handed.
The government had been made fools of. The Captain knew politicians and their natures well. Politicians are proud creatures, like cats – well groomed, trying to give an air of elegance and authority, so that they might mask their stupidity and ineptitude. Cats will blunder their way off a shelf or a coffee table, missing their intended target and scattering things in the process, but they always land on their feet, and they always act as if that was what they intended to do all along.
Politicians are similar in that regard; they will make the most atrocious mistakes, but their pride is what carries them along. A wound to a politician’s pride, therefore, is enough to drive them to murder. That was why thirty-or-so soldiers had died in a helicopter crash in East Anglia – they were sacrifices to the Cabinet’s altar of ego.
The Captain would not see another man roasted in the government’s brazen bull. They were taking someone tonight. They were justifying their existence.
That was a statement of intent and an assurance.
*
K-Os arrived half an hour later, by which time the bar had really started to fill up. Like the Red Sea parting, people stood aside from her – many of them first years who had heard legends of K-Os on the Facebook fresher’s page. She had built up something of a distant cult following – emphasis on cult – who would snap photos of her as they spotted her skating around, wondering what she got up to.
There were rumours, half-joking, about her true nature, that she was an escaped government experiment or an alien from outer space, none of which Socks felt any need to comment on (not least because he knew the K-Os cult already knew about him). K-Os, therefore, had attained a sort of mystique which moved people around her as a star in a gravity well moves motes of dust around it.
Socks spotted her as he was standing, chatting with Hugh and Naomi. Max had gone to the gender-neutral toilets to, as he put it, “prepare for lift-off”, and Alessi had gone off to speak to somebody else.
“Hey, K-Os,” he said, as she skated towards him.
“Good evening,” K-Os said.
“Feels strange, you coming and talking to us,” Naomi said. “Like being visited by a celebrity.”
“I’m flattered,” K-Os said. “But you yourself have reason to speak to me now.”
“You get used to it,” Socks said. “K-Os keeps herself to herself.”
“How did she even get a name like K-Os?” Hugh asked.
“Don’t be rude, Hugh,” Naomi said. “She’s standing right there.”
“It’s quite alright,” K-Os said. “I go by the alias Katherine Osborne. It disguises my true nature as the aperture of chaos.”
“And that’s a good thing?” Hugh said. “I thought chaos was, like, anarchy, burning buildings and that.”
“It can be,” K-Os said. “But it’s also the race of sperm to an egg, the synthesis of glucose from sunlight, the slow carving of caves and channels by erosion, the birth and death of stars, ant colonies, thunderstorms. It is life. It is death. It is reality, any way you look at it.”
Hugh scratched his head.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “But thanks.”
Max returned from the bathroom.
“I’ve just made a terrible mistake,” he said, with a manic grin. “I’ve swallowed two tabs.”
*
Showtime was approaching.
This was the first time that Daisy had played a show since she and Ella Foe had integrated as one entity. She was beginning to worry that Ella could no longer perform. It had never occurred to her that now that she was Ella, she might well have lost her ability to perform – it would just be her up there on stage, stupid, caterwauling Daisy, no longer magnificent Ella with the voice of a goddess.
She’d made herself up. She was ready to perform. Ready for anything.
Ready for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.
The old familiar anxiety was still there, and there was no Jules this time to calm her. Just the guitar slung around her chest, pulsing quietly, speaking words only she could understand.
Things had to go right. She’d never forgive herself if they didn’t.
“Daisy,” Ollie said. “We’re on in five. You sure you’re up for this?”
“I can’t pull out now,” Daisy said. “We’re doing this. It’s happening.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Well, that’s my secret, Ollie. I’m never sure.”
“…was that an Avengers reference?”
Daisy smiled, and flipped him a middle finger. “Fuck off.”
Ollie put a hand on her shoulder.
“For Jules,” he said.
“For Jules,” Daisy replied.
*
Socks had a bad feeling.
It was the same bad feeling he’d had just before Monica had attacked K-Os. Just a niggling feeling in the back of his brain telling him that something wasn’t quite right. His Spidey senses were tingling, something he hadn’t experienced since back when umbric still existed.
Something was happening, or about to happen. But what?
Max was an experienced user of psychedelics, so that wasn’t really his concern, though Alessi had been right: taking acid while dressed as a horror movie character – especially one known for going insane after confronting beings existing outside of observable reality – was probably a stupid move, though Socks was sure he’d come out the other end mostly unscathed. So it wasn’t that.
Naomi and Hugh had disappeared into the crowd. If he followed that line of thought, the bad feeling persisted. He tried searching the crowd for them, but found nobody.
“What’s the matter, Socks?” K-Os asked.
“Nothing,” Socks said. “I just…be on your guard. I have a bad feeling.”
K-Os regarded him very seriously.
“Understood,” she said.
They were standing near the back of the room.
“I’m staying away from the front this time,” K-Os said. “Lesson learned.”
“Good on you,” Socks said. The lights began to dim. “I’m gonna go and get Max.”
He pushed his way through the crowd to a small seating area with couches and coffee tables.
Max was sitting on a couch looking at his hands.
“How are you feeling?” Socks asked. Max looked up at him, grinning stupidly.
“Everything’s beautiful and nothing hurts,” Max said.
“Glad to hear it,” Socks said.
“You look beautiful, man,” Max said. “Your face is…it’s like looking at an angel, dude.”
“The show’s starting,” Socks said. “Can you stand?”
“Yeah, I’m not drunk. Just…listen, this is some good shit, man. Everything looks like stained glass…”
Only Max would be able to have a good trip in the student union bar, Socks thought.
Max rose, walking forwards with a strange gait that suggested his senses were telling him the floor wasn’t made of solid wood, but something like porridge.
They met with K-Os near the back of the room, and watched as the crowd moved to the stage area. Ella Foe and the Oscillations stepped out and got into position with their instruments: Ollie had eschewed his traditional drum kit for an electronic one, Daisy still had her mint-green bass, and Lewis had got a new guitar over the summer after the destruction of his old one.
Daisy was dressed in banana-yellow dungarees and a heather-grey T-shirt. Her makeup this time was a little more subdued. Her hair had turned silver, and her eyes shone pearlescent.
Socks knew, then, that he was not looking at Daisy, but at Ella Foe.
“Hello,” said the familiar, deep, confident voice that, though issued from the same larynx, was decidedly not Daisy’s. “We’re Ella Foe and the Oscillations. And we’ve missed you.”
A cheer rose up from the crowd, and Socks was among them.
“We’re doing something a bit different this time,” Ella said. “We hope you like it.”
Max was laughing at nothing, or at least, nothing Socks could see.
“One, two, three, four,” Ella counted off.
Ollie began to play a thumping beat, not a rock beat, but one that was intended to be danceable. It was a funk beat, a simple rhythm played on the high hats and kick (ti-ti-bap-bap-ti-ti-bap-bap) overlaid with a syncopated dance-rhythm played on the snare and cymbal. Next to his drum kit was an electronic pad that allowed him to loop the beats he was playing.
To Socks’s surprise, it was not Ella who began to sing, but Lewis.
A few moments later, Ella’s bassline kicked in, and it was evident that Ella Foe and the Oscillations were a shoegazing band no longer.
They were playing indie-funk.
“This is different,” K-Os said.
*
Socks couldn’t shake the bad feeling for the rest of the set. And it was an incredible set. Socks couldn’t quite believe that they’d written all those songs in a brand new genre in a matter of months. Necessity, clearly, had been the mother of invention.
Every song in the set, which had titles like “Gorgeous” and “Stay With Me”, retained the poppiness of their previous incarnation, but the heavy guitar distortion had been swapped out for loop pedals and beat pads. You wouldn’t have believed they had once been a shoegazing band if you didn’t know and someone told you that was the case.
His anxieties were not alleviated at all when, halfway into the set, during a song titled “Ocean”, a set of projections began to manifest over the crowd in various colours and abstract shapes, some shimmering and liquidous like mercury or gallium, others more akin to laser projections. The images were being generated by the guitar; Ella Foe was translating ideas into psychically-projected images through the guitar.
“She’s going to get herself killed,” K-Os said. She was unhappy, firstly about not being able to dance, and secondly about the fact the band had stopped playing the genre of music she had enjoyed.
“Holy shit,” Max said, falling to a seated position on the ground. Socks decided not to tell him that what he was seeing really was there.
The rest of the show passed with little incident. A few times, Socks thought he saw shapes moving in the crowd. He had learned by now to trust his instinct, not his rationalisation – to rub his eyes and say “I’m imagining things” was pure stupidity. He would try to focus, intently, on the shapes he thought he saw moving through the crowd, until he was certain that he had imagined it. And, as it happened, he had – none of the figures he saw were anything more than afterimages.
But the feeling still lingered. There was a presence. Something was going down.
Things fell quiet just before the final song of the set, and a projector screen behind the band displayed a photograph. Socks blinked a couple of times at it, then realised who was on the screen.
It was a photograph of Jules, young and handsome, smiling at a gathering by the lake in first year. His hair was tied into a curled red ponytail and he was wearing a pastel pink shirt.
The band held a minute’s silence in memory of their fallen bandmate.
The bad feeling wasn’t leaving him. He had to find Hugh and Naomi. He only hoped that Naomi had her abilities under control.
He waited for the minute’s silence to end, and then the band launched into their final number – a reworking of “Cloudsurfing” from their previous show, in Jules’s honour. The photograph remained on the screen. Socks would have found the whole thing moving – well, he did find the whole thing moving, really – but for his fears that simply would not allay.
Amid strobe lights, he spotted Naomi’s face in the crowd, and waded through people, trying to get to her, being pushed aside. Somewhere, the teashades got slapped from his face. They’ll live, he thought, remembering how they had survived Tanizaki. Though, somehow, he doubted his own optimism.
He reached Naomi as if in rough seas just as the show ended. The house lights came up, and everyone cheered.
“Naomi,” he said. “Are you alright? Where’s Hugh?”
“He went to get a drink,” Naomi said. “What’s wrong? You seem flustered.”
“No, it’s just…I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
“I’m fine, Socks. How’s K-Os enjoying the show?”
“I’m not sure she likes the change in sound.”
“That’s a shame,” Naomi said. “Listen, I’m going to the loo. If you see Hugh, let him know.”
“Wait,” Socks said. “Get K-Os to chaperone you.”
“I’ll be fine, Socks.”
Socks sighed.
“I have a bad feeling, Naomi. You’re part of our world now. There’s people after us. Please, get K-Os to chaperone you.”
Naomi nodded. “Alright,” she said. “Just let Hugh know where I am.”
Socks watched her walk over to K-Os and ask to be chaperoned. K-Os folded her arms, seemingly rolled her eyes and then went to her with the women’s bathroom.
Max stood, and the manic grin he had been sporting a while ago had disappeared. His eyes were wide, childlike, his pupils dilated, as he walked towards Socks.
“Max,” Socks said. “You alright?”
“The strings of life converging,” Max said.
“I’m sorry?”
“Not right,” Max said. His voice was high and strange. “Not right. The vibrations are all wrong. This goes deeper than you think, Stephen Oxford.”
“What are you talking about, Max?”
Max blinked twice.
“Was I saying something?”
“Er, yeah,” Socks said.
“I must have blacked out,” Max said. “Listen, this trip’s gone a bit weird. I can usually ride out a bad trip but I feel a bit sick…”
“Get some water,” Socks said.
“Sure,” Max said. “I shouldn’t have taken two tabs, man…”
Socks watched after Max as he went to the water dispenser at the bar, then turned his head back to where Max had been. At the centre of himself, something was whispering: “It’s all gone wrong.”
But what? What had—
“Did you enjoy the show?” Ella Foe called from on stage.
“Yeah,” Socks called. “It was great.”
“Great to hear,” Ella said.
“Good to know,” Socks said. “Are you not still cross with me?”
Ella put a fist on her hip and pouted slightly.
“Surely I shouldn’t have to explain this to you again, Socks. Daisy is still cross with you. Ella Foe isn’t.”
“Right, I keep forgetting.”
Socks smiled, shaking his head, and as he did, he caught sight of something glinting on the floor.
He blinked twice, then saw what it was.
A ring of penumbric crystals.
He felt his legs propel him towards it.
“Socks?” Ella called. “What’s the matter?”
“Shit,” Socks said. “Naomi!”
He quickly ran for the bar, where Hugh was ordering a drink.
“Hugh!” he shouted. Hugh turned, met his gaze. “Naomi—”
He felt something hard and metal press into his back.
Behind him, Ella Foe shouted in surprise.
“Hello again, Mister Oxford,” a familiar voice said.
*
Naomi washed her hands in the sink.
“Do you really have to stare?” she asked.
“Yes, I really do,” K-Os said. “I’m not sure you completely understand what’s happening, Naomi.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You just found out today that you have special abilities. I’m concerned that you seem unaffected.”
Naomi turned and looked at her.
“I’m scared,” she said. “I’m really scared. But I can’t let it show.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want Hugh to worry about me.”
“That’s noble,” K-Os remarked. “But you seem flippant all the same, Naomi.”
“I don’t understand what’s happening to me, K-Os. I don’t. All I know is that I just want to keep Hugh safe…from…from all this.”
“Then we will help you,” K-Os replied.
Naomi smiled. “Thank you, K-Os.”
She dried her hands and then made for the door.
She stopped drying her hands. Her eyes widened.
“The ring,” she said. “K-Os, the ring—!”
The bathroom door burst open.
There in the doorway stood a man with a mauve beret on his head and a stony face, carrying a heavy semi-automatic pistol. He stepped into the room, training his gun on her.
“Identify yourself,” the man instructed.
“N-Naomi Carter,” Naomi stammered.
“Good evening, Miss Carter,” the man said. “I am the Captain of SAID-MI5. I am required by law to notify you that you are, from now, subject to indefinite detention at Her Majesty’s pleasure.”
“Get away from her,” K-Os said.
“Miss Osborne, do not interfere,” the Captain said. “You are aware what happened last time.”
“I am aware that you retreated in disgrace,” K-Os said. “Put that fucking gun down.”
“No,” the Captain replied.
Naomi was frozen to the spot, too scared to move or say anything.
“Come with us,” the Captain said. “Provided you cooperate, we will treat you well.”
“I’m not sure you understand,” K-Os said.
She skated forwards.
The Captain fired.
Naomi screamed.
She checked her body, realising suddenly that it was covered by a strange, golden shield.
K-Os met the Captain’s eye line.
“Miss Osborne, you are making a mistake.”
K-Os stood next to Naomi.
“Naomi, get behind me,” she said.
Naomi did so, and the gold shield disappeared.
The shield appeared in front of K-Os.
“This shield is indestructible, Captain,” she said. “If you fire on either of us, you run the risk of killing yourself.”
The Captain holstered his weapon.
“Very impressive, Miss Osborne,” he said. “There is but one problem with that plan.”
He abruptly left the room.
“Keep behind me,” K-Os said to Naomi, as they followed him out.
The Captain gestured with his right arm to the bar area.
“No!” Naomi shrieked.
Socks, Daisy, Ollie, Lewis, and Hugh were crouched on their knees with their hands on their heads, guarded by soldiers.
Hugh could only stare on at Naomi silently, unable to speak.
K-Os observed the scene, then glared at the Captain hatefully.
“If you do not relent, Miss Osborne, the soldiers are under strict instruction to execute every one of your friends. You can refuse to comply if you wish, but your friends will die. Otherwise, you can cooperate. We do not wish to kill anyone unnecessarily. All we ask is that you hand over Miss Carter there, and nobody gets hurt.”
K-Os stared for a few moments, enraged. Then her shield evaporated.
“Good,” the Captain said. “Then Miss Carter will be—”
“One condition,” K-Os said.
The Captain fell silent for a few moments.
“That was not part of the deal, Miss Osborne.”
“You will allow Naomi to say goodbye to her boyfriend over there,” K-Os said. “I also want you to ensure no harm will come to him. If you harm a hair on his head, I’ll break your fucking neck. Are we clear?”
The Captain considered it.
“Very well,” he said. “Miss Carter, you may say your goodbyes.”
Naomi looked at K-Os, who nodded, then she entered the bar area to speak to Hugh.
K-Os followed after her, entering the bar area.
“Why does this happen every time you come to one of my fucking shows?” a voice said.
K-Os looked over and realised that the figure she had assumed to be Daisy was in fact Ella Foe, her hair shining silver and her eyes burning rainbow.
“I’m sorry,” K-Os said.
“Tell me you have a plan, K-Os,” Socks said.
“Quiet!” barked a soldier.
K-Os did not have a plan.
Her physical invulnerability protected only her. It did not protect her friends. That was her greatest failing.
Naomi finished saying her goodbyes to Hugh. Her cheeks were stained with tears.
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Carter,” the Captain said. He spoke into a radio to a man across the room. “Mister Carlson, ready the transport.”
As Naomi walked over and stood by him, Hugh’s face was aghast and distraught.
“A pleasure working with you, Miss Osborne,” the Captain said, with a voice that in no way conveyed pleasure whatsoever.
Naomi locked eyes with Hugh, and Hugh with her.
I’m sorry, she said, but her lips did not move.
Hugh covered his mouth.
“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” the Captain said. “You cannot and will not defeat the government. Now—”
The Captain grasped at air, then blinked twice.
Naomi was gone.
He looked at K-Os.
“What have you done?” he asked.
“I haven’t done anything,” K-Os said. “She used her ability…”
“I beg your pardon?”
K-Os looked across the room and met Hugh’s line of sight. He was sobbing.
“She made us all disappear…”
The Captain’s facial expression did not change.
“Orders, sir?” a soldier shouted.
“Very well,” he said, marching over to Hugh, pushing a soldier aside, and placing a gun to his head.
“Naomi…” Hugh said, tears staining his cheeks. “Oh God, Naomi…”
“K-Os, do something!” Socks said.
“Stop him!” Ella screamed.
“Now,” the Captain said, crouching, but keeping the gun’s barrel aimed at the man’s head. “Young man. I would like you to do something for me. If you could.”
He looked over at where Socks and Ella were crouching and pointed with his left hand.
“I want you to pick one of those people.”
“Wuh-what are you guh-going to do?” Hugh asked, stammering.
“I’m going to make them useful,” the Captain said. “Choose one or I shall choose for you.”
Hugh looked at both of them. Neither could speak. He looked at K-Os for guidance, but all he received in return was an apologetic look.
“The girl,” he said. “Take the girl. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you for your cooperation,” the Captain said.
“Wait,” Ella said. “Wait, no…”
Her hair was blonde once more. Confident Ella had been replaced by anxious, terrified Daisy.
“Daisy!” Ollie cried, in vain.
“Quiet!” a soldier shouted. “Don’t move!”
“I am required by law to notify you that you are, from now, subject to indefinite detention at Her Majesty’s pleasure,” a soldier recited, producing handcuffs and clapping Daisy’s hands into them.
Daisy looked at K-Os, who looked back at her remorsefully. Daisy’s face was filled with hatred. Your fault, her eyes said. All your fault.
“Take her away,” the Captain said.
The soldiers removed Daisy from the room.
The Captain turned to the others. “We welcome your surrender any time. Until then, farewell.”
With that, the soldiers lowered their weapons and walked away, leaving Socks, Ollie, Lewis, Hugh and K-Os in an empty bar.
Ollie stood, walked over to K-Os with tears in his eyes and tried to throw a punch at her. She caught it.
“Fuck you,” he said. “Just fuck you.”
He and Lewis left without another word.
Socks staggered to his feet. It was like there was a lead weight in his stomach.
He looked to K-Os for answers.
“What now, K-Os?” he asked. “What do we do now?”
K-Os looked down at the ground.
“We survive,” she said, looking at Hugh, whose face was buried in his hands. “And we try to save what we can.”
*
Empty buses on empty roads. An empty world.
She rode them to nowhere, empty buildings that sometimes had the doors open. If you were careful you could steal a hot shower – swimming baths were best for that. Nobody could smell her, mind you, but she could smell herself. She’d steal soap from shops. Nobody seemed to mind.
She stole food from shops as well, packets of biscuits, bags of crisps, bottles of water, loaves of bread and pieces of meat all vanishing into the night (she nearly always “shopped” at night). This was hardly a life, she thought, but survival took precedence over all other instincts.
She missed the sounds of people’s voices and the sight of people’s faces. She realised quite quickly that the blank spaces on the covers of magazines and in advertisements actually had people in them. She had blocked out the entire human race, weaving around them like a ghost. A poltergeist, haunting the inbetween.
The only face she ever saw was her own these days, and she got to know it well, like a map of a vast and unknowable country. She tried cutting her hair at one point. It looked awful, but she knew nobody would see it, and it would grow out.
She lost track of how long she had been gone after a while. She kept a calendar at one point, but one day, in a fit of pique, she threw it into the river, and just stopped counting the days.
That this was her life now was a fact she refused to accept. She knew there was a way back from this. If it took her a lifetime, she’d figure it out. But she’d get back. She knew she would. And she refused to see herself as the little girl lost. She would not let herself have such a pathetic self-image.
And that was how the story of Naomi Carter ended. Exiting the mundane world and entering the strange carousel of interstice, the place between light and shadow.
On Halloween, Naomi Carter became a ghost.
A ghost not born of death’s shroud, but of the cloth of life itself.
She hoped that Hugh would be okay. Almost every day she wrote him letters and notes and left them on benches, hoping he would find them, though she knew in her heart that if he did, all he would see was a blank sheet of paper.
She saw such amazing things. It was a few weeks before the strings made themselves known to her. Singing to her. That was some company. And the birds and animals, too, sometimes she’d just sit and listen to them.
She’d find her way back eventually. She was sure of it.
That was no guarantee, but it was her every intent.
Another time, another place…
This work is distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
ARC THREE: NEW CULTURE
I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X