by Casey, Ryan
He closed his eyes.
Shook his head.
No.
And then he took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and he was back in the bedroom again.
He didn’t have to go there. He didn’t have to visit the past again. Not tonight.
He went to grab his keys from the bedside cabinet when he saw his lights flicker, just for a moment.
But Max thought nothing of it at the time.
Nobody did.
Chapter Three
New Year’s Eve
21:00
Three Hours Before the Event…
* * *
Aofie went to hit “send” on her university application when she realised there was an entire other page to fill in.
No rest for the wicked.
It was late. She only knew that because it was dark outside. The last time she’d left the room, it was light. Or had she been out since to grab a glass of water? She wasn’t sure, only that her eyes were red and sore, and she had a nasty headache.
But she really needed to get this application done. She really needed to get her life back in order.
And if that meant sacrificing the whole day and dedicating it to applying for as many university courses in zoology as she possibly could, then that’s absolutely what she would do.
She could hear laughter outside. Heard something smashing and a chorus of “whoas.” It sounded busy out there. Busier than usual. She didn’t exactly live in the nicest part of Preston. Outside the middle of the city centre, but in a really dodgy area. The kind of area she didn’t like walking through to the city, so always took a bus, even though it wasn’t an incredibly long stretch.
And sure, Preston wasn’t bad as far as cities went in terms of crime. There were no big gangs that she knew of. Didn’t seem to suffer the same drug and homelessness issues as other major cities, even though she did see the odd rough sleeper. It was almost as if even the criminals themselves knew it was a bit shitty, really. Like, there wasn’t a whole lot to do here. She’d always dreamed of moving out and away to a big city, to a metropolis, where everything was on her doorstep.
And then she’d met Jason, and everything changed.
A bitter taste in her mouth.
A tightness and a cramping right in her gut.
Best not to think of him. Thinking about the past will do you no good.
She looked around her room. It was all pretty minimalistic. No pictures on the walls. The double bed didn’t even have a quilt cover. Everything was all so neat and tidy, but it was that way because there was barely anything in here.
There was a real sense of impermanence about the place. For Aoife, it was as if by not decorating the room and not doing it up, she was maintaining the illusion in her mind that she wasn’t here to stay.
But she’d lived here for eighteen months now, and it didn’t feel like anything was changing.
She leaned back and stretched out. Let out a yawn. She was getting a whole lot more tired a whole lot earlier these days. She was thirty-three, so she was hardly old. But definitely too old to be living in a flat share with three younger women. And definitely too old to be applying for a university course for a radical change in career.
She thought about her life before. Jason. The pregnancy. The wedding. How perfect everything seemed.
And she thought about how much everything fell apart. How quickly it fell apart.
The marriage.
Her career.
Everything.
She took a deep breath.
Swallowed a lump in her throat.
Best not to think about that.
Best to keep that where it belonged.
She dragged herself across the wooden flooring on her wheeled office chair when she heard three bangs at her door.
“Aoife? You ready yet?”
You ready yet? What was that supposed to mean? Was she supposed to be ready for something?
“I… Um—”
“We’re gonna start drinking soon.” It was Kayleigh. Clearly Kayleigh. She could always tell from the squeakiness of her voice. “You’d better be ready, darl. It’s New Year’s Eve, after all.”
New Year’s Eve.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
How could she forget? She’d been so caught up in applying for all the zoology courses she could that she’d totally forgotten it was New Year’s Eve.
And even worse, she’d made a vague promise a few weeks ago to go out with “the girls” tonight.
“I… I’m not feeling too well,” Aoife said.
“What? Rubbish. That’s your classic excuse.”
“I don’t make excuses.”
“You promised you’d come out, Aoife,” Kayleigh shouted through the door. A slight hint of annoyance in her voice. “After everything going on with me and Daniel lately, I thought… I just thought maybe you’d come for a few drinks with us to help forget everything. They’re switching the lights on at midnight. There’s a band playing and everything. It’s gonna be ace!”
Aoife envied Kayleigh’s somewhat youthful enthusiasm. But she found it hard to muster up any sort of enthusiasm when it came to a Preston lights switch on or a vague band who’d actually agree to play the switch on around here when there were no doubt far more attractive options available.
“I—I don’t remember promising anything,” Aoife said.
“For God’s sakes,” Kayleigh said with a sigh. Aoife could tell she was pissed off now. “You’re always the same. Too bloody stubborn and too bloody independent for your own good. Like you’re better than us.”
Aoife opened her mouth to respond. But she knew how arguing back to an accusation of being stubborn would make her look.
She felt a little hurt by that. Was that how they saw her? Aloof? Of course, she was a bit more world-wise than these girls. She’d been a solicitor before her life went awry, after all. Before she moved here seeking a fresh start after the job just got too much for her.
But she was always pleasant with the girls. Always tried her best.
But shit. Now she thought about it… had she been a little distant? A little aloof?
“Forget it,” Kayleigh said. “Enjoy your night. I’ll make sure we enjoy ours—”
“I’ll come,” Aoife said.
A pause.
“What?”
“I said I’ll come. Give me a chance to get ready, and I’ll come. The lights. They’ll be… they’ll be fun.”
Another pause. Longer, this time.
Then a laugh.
“Great. That’s great, Aoife. Be ready in an hour. It’s about time we got you royally wasted.”
She ran off down the corridor, towards the kitchen, towards the music, towards the laughter of the other girls.
Aoife turned around to her MacBook. To that full page remaining of her current application.
“Screw it,” she said.
She saved her progress, then she closed the tab, and then shut the lid of the MacBook before climbing off her chair and walking over to her wardrobe.
She didn’t see the news of inexplicable solar activity and bizarre electrical phenomena across the globe open in her other tab…
Chapter Four
New Year’s Eve
22:00
Two Hours Before the Event…
* * *
“ID, please?”
The scrawny little kid stared up at Max, and his eyes widened right away. Immediate enough for Max to know there’s no way this guy was eighteen and absolutely no way he was getting in this nightclub tonight.
But he dug his hands into his wallet for it anyway. Scrambled around for it. “I—I think it’s in here somewhere.”
Max stood there and smirked. He’d let the kid search for this ID Max knew already definitely didn’t exist. One way of making his night as a security guard go a little easier, on the doors of the Lava nightclub in the middle of the city centre. It was only ten o clock, but everyone was already packing into here
for drinks before spilling onto the streets for the big light switch on at midnight.
“Come on, prick!” someone shouted from behind, urging the lad on in his search for ID.
“Yeah, four-eyes,” another of the thugs called. “Freezing my arse off out here!”
Max saw the kid look up at him, wide-eyed behind those glasses of his, and the look of regret on his face.
“Go on,” Max said. “In you go.”
The lad’s jaw dropped. “I—”
“Don’t talk yourself out of it. In there. Now. Before I change my mind.”
The lad nodded, scuttled past, clearly not believing his luck.
But hell. As far as Max saw it, a nightclub on New Year’s Eve was a special kind of torture. The dorky kid would soon see the error of his ways.
He let more people in, the same routine every time. ID, please. Kid hands him either a real ID or a clearly fake one. The stench of cheap aftershave strong in the air. Girls pasted in fake tan and wearing far too little, especially for a winter’s night.
And it was worse now than ever. All thanks to the coronavirus and the gut-punch it gave to society.
Now everyone was out. Ready to get pissed up. And ready to make Max’s night hard work.
At least he could get his hands on with them if they kicked off. He didn’t stand for any messing, that was for sure. But it was always the Love Island, hairless chest, tight jeans, and no socks muscle-lads who wanted to take him on because they could see he was pretty well built for his age.
Two lads in tight white polo neck T-shirts stepped forward. They reeked of aftershave. Chewing gum. And they just had this look of arrogance about them, right from the off.
One of them stared at the legs of a girl standing just ahead. Muttered something to his mate.
His mate laughed. “Don’t worry, Dan. I’ll have those legs apart in no time.”
Max gritted his teeth. He didn’t like the attitude of these guys. Didn’t like their confidence or their arrogance or the way they spoke about women.
And that’s when he clocked these were the two guys who were giving the dorky lad a hard time a few minutes ago.
“ID, please,” Max said.
The lad on the left, the taller one, with his smirk, reached into his wallet. Lifted it, held it out in front of Max. “Like I need it anyway,” he said.
He lowered his driving license before Max had a chance to properly look at it.
“Come on,” the guy said. Harry, according to his ID. “You can see I’m over eighteen. Let us in. Don’t be a dick about it.”
Max grunted. He was used to getting abuse from customers. Learned to shrug most of it off.
But there was something about this guy that just irritated him.
“And yours?” Max asked.
The other guy, Dan, reached into his back pocket with a sigh. Pulled out his driver’s licence. Held it out in front of Max.
Max squinted at it. “The photo here. It’s not valid.”
Dan frowned. “What?”
“I said your photo. It’s all smudged. Not clearly you. Unless you have any other ID, you’re not coming in.”
Dan laughed. Looked at Harry, who shook his head. “You serious?”
“Yeah,” Max said. And he wasn’t lying. Serious was one thing he was really good at being. “Can’t see your ID properly; you can’t come in.”
“I can’t believe this,” Dan said. “I can’t actually believe this.”
“Well, you’d better believe it,” Max said. “I don’t make the rules. And if it is you, well. Let’s just say you’ve not aged too well since this photo was taken.”
Harry peered at Max. This look of total disdain on his face.
“You’re still welcome in, of course. Your ID’s fine,” Max said. “Just don’t kick off. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
Harry turned his nose up. “Nah. Nah, we’re alright, aren’t we, Dan? We’ll let this power tripper here have his fun. We’ll go find somewhere else. Happy new year, retard.”
Harry spat on the ground, right before Max.
Max stepped forward. Clenched his fists. A few people clapped, and a few others looked on, shocked.
“Go on,” Harry said. “I dare you. I dare you.”
Max took a few deep breaths.
Then he stepped back.
“Miserable bastard,” Harry said as he dragged his friend away. “Nobody else to spend New Year’s with, so he takes it out on the lot of us.”
Max gritted his jaw.
He wanted to tear that bastard’s head off for that.
Because he didn’t use to be miserable.
He didn’t always use to be this way.
So hateful of other people.
And so angry.
He thought about Kathryn.
He thought about David.
He thought about the times they’d visit the lights together.
The Christmases they’d enjoy together.
He thought about it all, and he felt sadness deep inside.
A loneliness.
But more than anything, hatred towards other people.
Towards everyone.
He watched the two lads walk away towards a queue for another nightclub.
And he let more and more people inside this club, one by one.
He didn’t pay any real attention to the talk about weird solar activity.
He didn’t think much of the weird green aurora in the sky above.
He didn’t think anything of it, as the lights flickered, time and time again.
Chapter Five
New Year’s Eve
23:00
One Hour Before the Event…
* * *
Aoife stood at the bar, sipped her beer, and wished tonight was over already.
The music was far too loud, for one. Maybe she was just getting old. But that blaring bass, so loud it thumped right through her chest, making her feel like she was having bloody palpitations. Yeah. It wasn’t her scene, that was for sure.
She didn’t mean to sound such a prude. She used to be a party animal once upon a time. But that was a long time ago. The girls she lived with, all in their early twenties, seemed to forget she was closer to forty than she was their age.
Shit. That was a sobering thought.
And there was only one way to deal with a sobering thought.
She sipped more of the cocktail, taking a bigger gulp this time. Looked over at Kayleigh and the girls, all sitting in a booth lapping up the attention of a few thirsty guys. Kayleigh clearly didn’t care about the band playing outside at the lights switch-on anymore, not now she was getting all this fuss. The place stunk. There was an air of sweat hanging around the place. Full of chavvy guys and slutty girls. Again, didn’t mean to sound grumpy. It just wasn’t her scene. And it never really ever was, in all honesty.
She’d grown up on a farm, right out in the countryside. Her dad, God rest his soul, always used to take her on camping weekends away. He’d teach her all kinds of little tips and tricks—survival, he called it. Ways to navigate the wilderness. Ways to hunt. Ways to survive.
And she’d always felt more attached to that way of life than the city life. Ever since her dad died when she was fourteen and she was forced to live with her auntie Carol, it was like something was missing from her life. She’d always idealised the city lifestyle when she was a kid. Now, after years working in the city as a solicitor and living in a flat share she could barely pay the bills for, desperately trying to get back to university for the last year, she longed for a return to a simpler life. Those weekends away with Dad. The early starts. Watching the sunrise as he stood by her side. Listening to the birdsong. And hearing stories about Mum. A mother Aoife never knew, not really. She was too young to remember when cancer took her life.
How it broke Dad. How it made him distant and cold.
But how he and Aoife always had this connection. This bond.
How she was always his girl.
&nb
sp; As for her brother… well.
The less she thought about her older brother, the better.
“Can I get you a drink?”
Aoife looked around. She’d been in a trance for God knows how long. It was eleven now, so they were all going to pile onto the streets to watch the band, then the big lights switch-on after the countdown to New Year, soon.
But when she looked around and saw the guy standing next to her, she felt a shiver creep down her spine.
He was tall. Quite bulky. Covered in tattoos. And he was wearing this white polo neck T-shirt that looked slightly too tight for him.
“Sorry,” he said. “Should probably introduce myself. The name’s Harry.”
He held out a hand. And knowing what men could be like, as much as she didn’t want to take it, Aoife grabbed it. Shook it, just a little.
She went to pull her hand away when he pulled her towards him, just slightly, but with enough force to make her uncomfortable.
“You look gorgeous, love.”
Aoife gritted her teeth. He was younger than her. Probably in his late twenties.
“Thanks,” she said, pulling her hand away.
“About that drink.”
“What about it?” Aoife asked.
“What do you want?”
She smiled at him. “I’m okay. Really. But have a good night.”
Harry tutted. Shook his head. “See, you don’t look like a girl who doesn’t want a drink. You look like a girl who wants to party. Who wants to dance. And then maybe, just maybe, a girl who wants to get out of here.”
Aoife looked around at Harry. Narrowed her eyes. “How many other ‘girls’ have you peddled that vaguely rapey, consent-muddying line to, Harry?”
He frowned. Looked a little stunned, like he wasn’t used to any kind of kickback like that. “What’re you trying to say?”
“I’m trying to say I’m not interested, sunshine. Now bugger off. Go bother somebody else. I don’t like your bullshit. And I’m here to have a drink and then get the hell out of here as soon as I possibly can, but not with you. So go on. Shoo. You look like you’ve had one too many.”
