Anger, raw and red, ripped through Wilbur. The injustice of it all! To think that a bit of fun should cost him so much.
It wasn’t fair.
‘You slut!’ Wilbur stormed towards Isabella. Seeing what was coming, she just had enough time to get to her feet before his hands wrapped themselves around her throat. ‘You lying, malicious slag! Who would want to rape a skinny rat like you?’
Wilbur let fly with an obscenity. It felt good, so he uttered another. And then another. And another. Each time he swore, he tightened his grip.
Isabella went limp.
Wilbur’s anger evaporated as the enormity of what he was doing struck home. Only now did he feel the sting from where Isabella’s nails had raked his cheek.
Shocked to find himself holding onto a human being as unresponsive as a rag doll, he let go. Isabella hit the floor with a sickening thud.
Wilbur stepped away. ‘Oh God! What have I done?’
A smattering of applause caused him to spin on his heel.
‘Well done,’ said Mickey Stratton, walking into the room from a door behind Raymond Arthur’s desk. ‘That was most entertaining.’
‘Great fun to watch,’ agreed Raymond Arthur. ‘But it ain’t over yet.’
Isabella coughed. Her hand grabbed weakly at Wilbur’s ankle. Although barely conscious and barely able to move, she wasn’t quite dead.
Arthur handed a silver paper knife to Mickey. ‘We at Arthur and Lawrence believe in finishing what we’ve started. We don’t tolerate half measures.’
Smiling grimly, Mickey brought the knife over to Wilbur. He held it up to allow its viciously sharp blade to catch the sun. ‘If she leaves here alive, you’re finished. It’s her or you.’
Wilbur was unable to deny the logic of the choice being offered him. He took the knife and knelt beside Isabella. It pleased him that he could still look her in the eye. ‘Nothing personal. It’s just business.’
For old times’ sake, he killed her quickly. If it had been anyone else, he would have prolonged their suffering, but he still considered Isabella to be a friend despite her trying to ruin his life.
When he was finished, he sat on the leather sofa, looking down at her dead body. ‘OK. So now what?’
‘Now,’ said Raymond Arthur, ‘your real training begins. Welcome to the Arthur and Lawrence Executive Training Program.’
<<====>>
AUTHOR’S STORY NOTE
Despite rapidly approaching my forties I’m still an avid gamer, I always loved gaming ever since my youth when I was first introduced to its wonders via the Commodore VIC 20, and then throughout each successive generation. As the years passed and the technology grew I saw the wide-eyed amazement of gaming being replaced, or overrun, with an odd sense of entitlement and impatience. Parts of gaming had become (and sadly still are) a seething corner of misogyny and racism. I then recalled the famous MK ULTRA program (where the story takes its name, I’m a master of subtlety I know!) where the Soviets were experimenting with mind control in the early fifties. I wondered what would that look like today, how would and could it be used to control or brainwash the youth of today? And also how would it be utilised in today’s modern dog-eats-dog corporate world? I wouldn’t say I tried to answer that question with this story, more make the reader think about it. And hopefully you did.
TREE HUGGERS
NATHAN ROBINSON
From Shadows And Teeth Volume 3
Editor: R. Perez de Pereda
Darkwater Syndicate, Inc.
Feeling a brave defiance, the group swallowed the keys in unison. Then, seconds later, in an act of grotesque irony from the great and knowing universe, what they thought was a meteor blazed overhead, landing upon the lake behind them with little sound, the elongated obsidian form gliding beneath the surface like a dart, sending ripples to every shore. It travelled deep, the sharpened point sticking deep into the mud at the bottom, sending ancient silt billowing up into the clear, moonlit waters. Fish fled as the dark diamond fell apart and a shape emerged from a flurry of bubbles.
It waited a moment, testing its surroundings, taking stock of where it was, using this cautious pause to gauge whether or not any predators waited in the glossy darkness. It detected nothing, then broke for the surface.
* * *
“What the fuck was that?” Jake Conroy announced as he felt the key slide down the depth of his throat; cold, hard and alien.
Beside him, his girlfriend Katy Mace smiled and looked at the skies above. “It looked like a meteor. I don’t think I’ve seen anything so beautiful.”
“Wow.” Ziggy Moonstone grinned from the next tree, his perfect teeth somehow gleaming despite the lack of light. “I think it’s a sign from the universe. It’s telling us that what we’re doing is right. We’re on the right path.”
Jake looked across to his friend Phil Barlow, who was chained to the same tree as Georgina Bainbridge, Katy’s lifelong friend. Phil rolled his eyes and mouthed something to Jake along the lines of “Bullshit.”
“It was a meteor all right,” Johan Loft confirmed with assumed authority. “I’ve never seen them fall like that before. It was too slow. I would’ve expected more of a bang. I’m glad I was here with you guys to experience it.” Johan was chained to the final tree with his wife Clementine. She smiled and grasped his hand tightly, looking up at his statuesque six-four frame adoringly. Jake had never seen an older couple so in love. It made him a little sick at how saccharine they were.
Ziggy was grinning dopily at Johan, lapping up every word he said.
“Why didn’t it fucking explode?” said Lola Mace, Katy’s younger, and far more foul-mouthed sister. “Meteors move much faster than that.”
“The lake,” said Georgina, “It must have landed in the lake. Remember last summer, Katy? We went swimming.”
Katy smiled as he she reminisced. “It was a beautiful day. I remember.”
“Actually, we were more than swimming, girls.” Ziggy grinned. “The three of us were skinny dipping if I remember correctly.”
“Ziggy!” Katy chided. “Not in front of my sister!”
Ziggy’s smile widened. Jake had told her that her ex looked moronic, with his beads, and his man bun, his stupid goat-like beard and open shirt exposing shaved pectorals.
“I’m sorry Katy, it’s just a treasured memory of mine.”
Katy looked to her new beau beside her.
Daggers from Jake. Big fucking daggers. But he still smiled. Because he wanted to make it work with her, even if her ex insisted on coming along to help save the Abcastle Oaks, he had to be friendly. Katy reached down and took his hand in hers, squeezing it to reassure his delicate, masculine ego that they were cool and still very much an item.
“And you lost your shorts,” Georgina added with a giggle.
Ziggy held his hands out, the moronic smile beaming bright in the light of the torches. Guilty as charged.
Katy had told Jake why she and Ziggy broke up. He was going to India for a year travelling, so they both agreed that a break was the best option. They could always hook up later if they wanted. Time had passed, and now she was going out with Jake. But now Ziggy was back, tanned by foreign climes and chiseled by volunteer work; and it appeared he wanted back in Katy’s knickers. Her relationship with Jake was the only thing stopping him. Now he was sniffing around her like a dog at a lamppost, as Jake had said. He’d invited her to this Save the Fucking Abcastle Oaks thing that the Lofts had organised, and she jumped at the chance. Not because she still had feelings for him, but because she enjoyed his company in the platonic sense. He was funny, sweet and genuinely a nice guy, but a bit too much of a free spirit for her liking. She had the feeling that Jake had come along purely because he wanted to keep an eye on her. Clearly he felt threatened that Ziggy was perhaps the kind of guy to find chaining himself to a beautiful woman in the darkest woods imaginable to be quite romantic. And to be fair, he probably did. Her sister Lola was here because she was grounded, but their
parents were away, so Katy was burdened with her for the weekend. Jake had invited his best friend Phil to act as moral support as he didn’t really know the others, plus Phil fancied the pants off of Katy’s friend Georgina, so there was that.
So here they were, chained to a tree as an act of protest, because supposedly the bulldozers and chainsaws were coming in to clear the land to make room for an exclusive housing estate by the lake. Not only had they chained themselves to the tree, they’d tethered themselves to the chain with a smaller, second chain, then swallowed the keys to show that they really meant business. That had been Ziggy’s idea (who else’s? He, the hipster generation’s answer to Captain Planet) and Jake, eager to impress his new girlfriend, he had swallowed that cold, jagged, tiny lump of steel to show he meant business as well. They all followed suit, regardless of whether or not the alien object they’d ingested would tear their insides before they shat it out. She fancied Jake a little more for going along with it. He was making an effort. Brownie point for him.
But that anxiety vanished when the “meteor” or whatever the hell it was flashed overhead with a strange blue tinge, almost the second after the last of them had swallowed their keys. It didn’t blaze through the sky as if it intended on travelling into the earth itself, but moved about as fast a glider, just as silent, and with the same swooping grace. The blue fire it exuded was almost the colour of a summer sky, giving their faces a glowing azure hue as it moved over the trees ahead. Faces of peace and wonderment. Then it was gone.
* * *
The solid constant cold of space had kept it preserved for aeons, but this newfound cold was pleasurable, playful. It touched every inch of its surface, sleekly washing off the fug that plagued it upon rousing.
It felt refreshed, eager, anew; but a new notion niggled within, an emptiness, a void that felt wider than the space it had travelled through to get to its new home. An urge that must be acted upon immediately before sleep or coitus or anything.
HUNGER.
It stretched out a clawed limb to its full extent, its rear claws kicking out, giving it propulsion through the cool liquid that held its weight, guiding itself forward until it touched something soft and pliable that the claw sank into. It used this new material, digging in with one foot-claw, then another, then another, pulling itself forward, limbs digging and heaving until whatever buoyancy it held over the liquid started to fade and it was forced to hold its own weight.
It moved forward, the liquid sliding off from its hard carapace with a pleasant, tinkling noise.
It was cool.
It was dark.
It was ashore.
* * *
“Figures,” Lola said in her usual glum, doom-laden teenager tone. “Out in the fucking sticks without one bar. Thanks sis.”
“Relax. It’s one night. I’m sure your Facebook friends can do without you for one night,” Katy replied.
“Actually, I was going to tag us here,” Lola defended. “Start a hashtag to help your cause. I won’t bother now.”
“We’ll get that tomorrow,” said Johan. “What I really want to see is the contractors’ faces in the morning. It’s going to be priceless! They’ll call the cops, then the media will turn up. It’ll all work in our favour.”
Ziggy clapped, much like an excited seal. She felt Jake sending more daggers beside her. She could practically hear his eyes rolling.
“Wait,” Phil said, raising a hand as if in class. “Cops?”
“Yes, they usually turn up,” Johan replied. “To keep the peace.”
“Could we get arrested?” he asked, getting worried.
“Possibly,” Johan grinned.
“Would they hurt us?” Jake asked, genuinely concerned for his precious skin.
“They might pepper spray us. That’s about as bad as it can get Jakey boy.”
Clementine faux-punched the old man on the arm, then tugged his wispy beard to further the light punishment. “Don’t tease the poor boy. Don’t listen to him. The police only resort to violence if we get violent.”
“I kinda hope that’s true,” Phil replied.
“Speaking of cops, shouldn’t we phone them about the comet thing we just saw?” Jake was checking his phone, holding it up towards the moon. Georgina and Phil did the same. Lola was already aware of the distinct lack of signal. Ziggy didn’t own a phone, because mobile phones “cause cancer and infertility,” and “end up owning you,” as he’d already told Jake earlier. Jake had yawned, but Katy was sure he hadn’t meant it.
“No signal,” Georgina said.
“Ditto,” Phil added.
“We’re in a valley, you’d have to move away from the lake to get closer to the transmitters on the edge of Abcastle,” Johan informed them.
Phil and Georgina looked at the chains around their waists that committed them to the cause as well as the trees they were trying to save. Jake jangled his chains, sighing at the sudden futility he felt. It was tight around his middle, tighter than his hips, so he couldn’t pull the links down, nor could he wriggle his arms through and lift it over his head.
“Hey, relax,” Katy soothed. He stopped tugging the chains.
They were all here until someone cut them loose or they passed the keys out naturally. Katy hadn’t thought about ablutions, or whether they’d be able to sleep or not. They’d brought blankets, and they had enough slack on the main chain to lie down and sleep until morning when the contractors arrived. Ziggy had brought an axe and chopped up some fallen branches, constructing a small fire lined by rocks in the centre of their little triangle to give them a measure of warmth and comfort throughout the night. They also had torches and lanterns so they wouldn’t get scared in the dark, and to hopefully keep the wildlife at bay.
Hopefully.
* * *
The heat of sustenance. The sense of it glowing brighter than its taller surroundings. It was close and stationary, a collection ripe for plucking.
Something above twitched, something closer.
Easier prey.
Smaller.
Sensing the smaller prey was less of a threat, it decided that this would be its first meal. An appetiser to welcome it to its new abode. It reached out and grabbed onto the rough object that extended skyward, and began to climb until it was within a metre of its intended prey.
It sensed that it was sleeping, so it reached out with an elongated limb that folded out from its body and ended in a three-pronged claw. Rising above the prey, it paused, to see if it responded to the sight of something new in the night.
It didn’t.
Without further hesitation, the tri-claw surged forward, clasping onto the small furry object, clamping hard with a breaking of brittle bones. It fought back, scratching and biting at the hard shell to no avail. From the centre of the tri-claw, a dart-like tongue surged forward, piercing the oh-so-soft flesh of the little creature. A sphincter opened up, and the pressure changed within the little creature. Within five torturous seconds, its blood, organs and a few bones had been sucked through and masticated by a tube of grinding teeth before being fed straight into its stomach, churning with eager acid.
It had been sated some, but not enough. It looked back over in direction of the other pack of prey that would surely sate this overwhelming hunger.
They hadn’t moved. But something else alerted its senses and made it cautious of approaching too brashly.
Light.
Regardless of the threat, it moved forward, neglecting the forest floor, but choosing instead to move through the trees at this newfound higher vantage point. It still needed to feed.
* * *
Katy shared the tree with Jake and her younger sister Lola.
Phil and Georgina were paired up at theirs. Judging by the grin on her friend’s face, Katy could tell Phil was happy about this coupling, as he was eager to perhaps take things further. Katy knew for a fact that Phil wasn’t Georgina’s type. He didn’t have a beard for a start.
Ziggy had been shackled
to Johan and Clementine. As far as Katy knew, the couple had never had any children. Had they ever managed to bring a child into the world, she imagined that Ziggy would be the kind of son they’d dream of, and Katy the ideal daughter-in-law.
She was aware of their fantasy that Ziggy and she would settle down one day, as they thought that they made a cute couple. But Ziggy had made his choice when he went travelling and she had made hers with dating Jake.
Discussion about the meteor and the possibility of a police beating had passed. Now Johan was talking to Ziggy about a falafel recipe, Clementine adding odd little techniques and facts about herbs throughout the conversation.
Georgina was rolling her eyes at another of Phil’s puerile jokes. Meanwhile, her sister was content playing with her phone, despite the lack of signal.
“Say, do you fancy the cinema tomorrow night?” Jake kept his voice a whisper in her ear. “There’s that new Ryan Gosling film you wanted to see.”
“I might still be here tomorrow Jakey,” she replied. “You can go if you like.”
“It kinda defeats the object if I go by myself. I’m not as much of a Ryan Gosling fan as you.”
“Ha, cute. Sorry I’ll still be here. I’m dedicated to the cause.”
“Oh.”
“But if we do manage to get the contractors to delay, I’ve already arranged to go out for a meal with the others.”
“Georgina?”
“Yep.”
“Johan and Clem?”
“Uh huh.”
“The Zigster?”
“Yeah, why?”
“So you can’t go on a date with me but you can go out with your ex?”
“No, it’s not like that. The others will be there.”
“Yeah, for how long though?”
“Zig’s my ex. It’s over. We were friends before. We just wanted to have a meal before he goes travelling again.”
“Am I invited?” Jake’s voice raised in tone. The others looked over, quietening their own conversations.
“If you really want to come, fine. Come. I don’t want you being paranoid in this relationship.”
“I’m not paranoid, it’s just …”
Year's Best Hardcore Horror Volume 3 Page 32
