by Rob Kinsman
“Address?”
“No.”
“When you said you were seeing him, did you mean through binoculars?” Zoe decided to let him have that one. “So you don’t know anything about him but you want me to find him?”
“Basically. Can’t you do, you know, computer stuff.”
“What kind of stuff did you have in mind?”
She shrugged. “Clever stuff.”
“Oh, good that you mentioned that because I was going to do really stupid stuff.” He snorted through his nose. If they passed a bookies Zoe would gladly bet a grand that this little shit would never, ever get laid. “Why do you want to find him?”
“He was looking for someone called Amelia. The people at Sid’s funeral, they called me that as well. I think it might be important.”
“Probably just confused you with some other chick he was banging.”
It was becoming clear that she would find Skyhawk considerably easier to tolerate if she could learn to ignore 97% of everything he said.
“Can you help?” she said, firmly.
Skyhawk muttered something about doing his best. She told him what little else she knew of Nick. It didn't take long,
“Now,” sighed Skyhawk, “can we start with my questions?”
“No. Do you know this man?” She showed him the leaflet with the photo of Thomas Knight. “He tried to kill Nick.”
“Right.”
“And he might have killed my neighbour. Have you read anything about him on the internet?”
“The web is a big place. I don’t know anything about this dude,” said Skyhawk with a weary sigh. “If you like, I can teach you how to use a search engine.”
“Oh, can you? Please.” Zoe wasn’t going to let anyone out-sarcasm her.
“Can we get back to my questions now?”
God, am I really going to do this?
“Alright. What do you want to know?”
Skyhawk pressed a button on his phone and held it out in front of them.
“What’s that?”
“A phone. They’re going to be massive.”
“I don’t mean literally.”
“I will record these interviews for reference.” He was back in his Deputy Director of the CIA mode.
“I never said you could record me.”
“Can I?”
“No.”
Skyhawk looked hurt and sulky. God, he really is just a kid. He reluctantly put the phone back in his pocket before starting over.
“To begin with please confirm your identity. Are you, Zoe Fenella Brook?”
“Just Zoe is fine,” she said firmly, hating her parents a little more every day.
“You haven’t been experiencing the same dream that has been shared by the world’s population since the night of 17th July. Is this correct?”
Zoe braced herself.
“Yes, that's right.”
Skyhawk’s face didn’t react.
“I’d like to begin my investigation into why you are unaffected by this phenomenon by exploring some of the key areas which may have affected your physiognomy.”
“Just get on with it,” pleaded Zoe. “And do try and stop talking like that. You sound like a pathologist.”
“First off – were you ever part of any secret government experiments?”
“What? No.”
“They may have wiped your mind.”
“Then how would I know about it?”
He considered this for a moment, then seemed to accept it.
“How about big corporations?” he continued.
“What do you mean?”
“Have you ever had any involvement with companies whose names end in tech or corp?”
“What are you talking about?”
“With these sort of things, it’s usually a sinister corporation to blame.”
“What do you mean ‘these sorts of things’?”
“Previous cases.”
“What cases?” And finally the penny dropped. “You mean in films.”
“Motion pictures are one source of information. It is believed that they may be subversive attempts to reveal the hidden truths kept from us by a government determined to preserve the hegemony at all costs.”
A sense of quiet, desperate loneliness engulfed Zoe.
“Do you actually know anything about what’s going on?” she said quietly.
“With time and…”
He trailed off. Although Skyhawk wasn’t exactly big on empathy, even he could sense that he was in the company of somebody extremely pissed off.
“I met you because I thought I was going to get something back,” she snapped. “Some idea why I… why this…”
She felt the tears coming, which irritated her immensely. She strode away.
“Wait. Where are you going?” he yelped.
He started to follow her, but he was a lumbering great thing and didn’t stand a chance.
It wasn’t just Skyhawk who wasn’t nifty on his feet, the whole city seemed to be full of zombies. Two nights of disturbed sleep had left everyone grumpy and less able to cope with the annoyances of everyday life.
“Watch where you’re going you silly cow.”
The first time someone had shouted abuse at Zoe she’d apologised profusely. She’d scraped against a woman’s arm as the early evening crowd headed for the pub. Hardly even Zoe’s fault, but her innate Englishness had kicked in and she’d said sorry.
The second time, Zoe had stepped from side to side at the same time as the man coming the opposite direction. He was good looking, which was nice, but called her a brain-dead bitch, which wasn’t.
As she walked through the streets she eventually learnt not to take it personally. Everyone seemed in a foul temper today, even by Londoner standards. Zoe felt bittersweet satisfaction that she wasn’t like all these sheep, slaves to the dream. No, her misery was for reasons that were entirely her own.
She couldn’t remember ever feeling more wretched. If she didn’t have irrational fears of heights, blades, water, pharmacists, sharp pencils and industrial machinery then she might even consider suicide. Not that she really wanted to die, but she was struggling to know how to live like this.
The real kicker, of course, was that she’d known all along that Skyhawk was full of shit, she’d just been wilfully blind to it. It was the same as the way she’d blocked out the sight of Sid’s blood, anything to make sure she only saw what she wanted to see. She guessed she could lump Nick in with that too.
On the street in front of her a car ploughed into the back of a bus.
What’s wrong with the world?
The bleary eyed car driver managed to open his door and got out to inspect the damage. The bus driver came out swearing. On the plus side nobody seemed to be hurt. Well, not until the bus driver lamped the car driver anyway.
Zoe quickened her pace. It was unbearable. Everything and everyone was just unbearable.
She walked for a long time with no direction. Moving just because it felt like standing still would be worse.
Eventually she passed a reasonable looking hotel, and before she knew it found herself in the foyer. She didn’t have much money in her account, but if a night somewhere decent brought her peace and quiet then it would be worth it.
“Hello. I welcome you,” said the unnaturally tall Polish receptionist.
“I’d like a room.”
“This week we have special Dreamer’s Deluxe deal, which includes dinner, a show and one of our superior rooms.”
“I’m ok with an inferior room. And I’m not interested in a show.”
“Show is very good. We Will Rock You. Music of the Queen.”
Zoe rubbed her hand across her eyes, trying to stay patient.
“I don’t want to be rocked. I want to sleep.”
“Then perhaps you would be interested in one of our ‘London and Beyond’ deals? It includes trip to historic Colchester.”
Zoe could feel her fingers clenching into fists.
>
“I don’t want a deal and I certainly don’t want to go to Colchester. No-one does. I just want a room.”
“We don’t do rooms.”
“But you’re a hotel.”
“Actually we are hub for a premier leisure and entertainment experience.”
The receptionist flashed her a warm, unthreatening smile.
“Listen to me,” growled Zoe. “I’m extremely tired. I’ve got money, I just need a bed.”
After some wrangling, Zoe finally managed to get her hands on the keys to a room, albeit by also signing up for a day at the zoo. The room itself was small and functional, but she didn’t care. It was private.
Her mobile had 17 missed calls, all from Skyhawk. She turned off the phone and sank onto the bed. She desperately needed sleep, although she wasn’t sure if her cramped mind was going to grant her that kindness.
The hotel phone next to the bed rang.
For fuck’s sake!
“Good evening madam, it is Maja from reception. I am just checking that room is to your liking.”
“It’s perfect. I’ve never stayed in a more enticing room in my entire life.”
“Really? This is very good news.” Zoe guessed sarcasm didn’t translate well. “Perhaps you would like to record your comments on one of our customer feedback forms.”
“No, that’s alright.”
“I can bring form up to your room.”
“No, please. Just… I’ll do it in the morning.”
“Very well. Will you be requiring any room service?”
“No.”
“This week we have a special discount…”
“No.”
“... on wines and spirits.”
“No!”
Finally, silence. Sweet silence.
But not for long.
“Oh, one moment madam, I have another call coming in. I will have to put you on hold.”
“Don’t bother I…”
Polish Maja was replaced by The Girl from Ipanema.
Zoe surrendered, leaving the phone off the hook while her she tried to bury herself in the warmth of the duvet. Hotel rooms always made her feel dirty, in a good way.
I wish Nick was here.
She fought away the thought as best she could. That way madness lay. She barely even knew the man, how could he have taken such a hold on her?
“Hello? Hello?” repeated the cheery Polish voice down the phone. Zoe wearily clutched it close to her ear again.
“Maja, it’s been too long.”
“Please?”
“Don’t worry.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No.”
“Then good night and sweet dreams.”
Well that was worth holding on for, thought Zoe as the line went dead.
Sleep came quickly. She dreamt of Sid, of his broken body as she’d really seen it. The blood. The cavity in his chest. Unlike other people’s dream of the previous night there was no fantastical setting. Just her familiar flat, her familiar lunatic and an unfamiliar horror.
Eleven
The unrequested alarm call came just after 7.00am.
“Good morning. This is Maja from reception.” Zoe pulled a pillow over her face, wondering if it was possible to suffocate herself with it. “Breakfast is now being served in the Ocean Room. Is there anything else I can help you with this morning?”
“No.”
Zoe hung up, rolled over and clutched the warm duvet close. Fifteen minutes later Maja called again to check she hadn’t fallen asleep, which she had.
“I’ll come down later,” said Zoe, irritable.
“Breakfast is now. Is very good breakfast.”
Realising this was a fight she couldn’t win, Zoe pulled her clothes on and trudged down to the Ocean Room, which seemed to have been named after the lingering smell of fish which permeated the air. There wasn’t a single other person present, except for one familiar face.
“Can I take your order, madam?” It seemed Maja had hastily abandoned reception in favour of becoming a waitress. “Would you like something from the kitchen?”
“Bacon. I’d like lots of bacon. And eggs.”
“I will cook it now.”
“Isn’t there a chef?”
“He is not available. But it is not problem. I cook very good.”
One-woman-band Maja trotted off to the kitchen.
There was something not right here, other than the staffing situation, but Zoe couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t just the lack of other guests; after all, maybe they just knew something she didn’t, like the mortality rate among diners. No, it was something else, something more fundamental.
While Zoe waited, she turned on her phone to find it jammed with Skyhawk’s various attempts to contact her. After seventeen missed calls it seemed he eventually settled on a simple text. ‘Computer Stuff. Loverboy at 34 Lexington Road. Islington.’
Ignore him. He’s just a paranoid nut.
Her heart told a different story. What if he really had found out where Nick was? Although the address probably didn’t even exist, and the message could well be just a desperate attempt to regain her attention, curiosity had sunk its teeth into her. Could she really afford to miss any chance, however slim, to find Nick and discover what he really knew about the whirlwind of chaos she seemed to be at the heart of?
Maja emerged from the kitchen with Zoe’s breakfast. It looked surprisingly good.
“Thank you.”
“Is pleasure.”
As Zoe tucked in, Maja disappeared into the kitchen, emerging a few moments later with a platter of pastries. She planted herself at Zoe’s table
“Um, are you joining me?”
“Yes. If you do not mind me?”
Zoe shrugged, past caring. Maja started nibbling away at the pastries.
“Maja?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Don’t call me madam, it makes me feel like a prostitute.”
“Ok.”
“Zoe is fine. Why aren’t there any other guests?”
“I have not been able to wake them.” Maja took another delicate bite of her pastry.
“What?”
“They are sleeping still.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. I made many wake up calls. Only you answered.”
Maja tucked into a second pastry.
“Do you think they’re alright?”
“I do not know.”
Zoe spied an old telly in the corner of the room. “Does that work?”
At first, since they couldn’t get a picture on it, they’d assumed the television was broken. However, it soon became disturbingly clear that this was because most channels weren’t broadcasting. The emergency news reports on those that were still functioning told the frightening truth: nobody who went to sleep last night had woken up again, and nothing seemed to rouse them. As a result the world was slowly grinding to a halt, one time-zone at a time. The lack of staff meant that most television and radio services were being forced to go off air.
“Maja, did you stay up all night?”
“Yes. I do night shift.”
Over the past couple of weeks the overtime rate for night work had shot up, since most people were eager to be home in time for the dream. People who slept during the day only saw a constantly looping image of the outside of the castle, a kind of supernatural test card. You had to be asleep during the evenings to experience the really interesting stuff.
“Would you like?” Maja pushed the remaining pastries across the table.
“Thanks, no. What are we going to do?”
“I do not know. You woke up, so maybe others will also.”
But I’m not like other people.
“Do you think we should try and wake them?”
“How?”
“We could go to someone’s room.”
“That is against hotel policy.”
Finally something that had been niggling away at
the back of Zoe’s mind came into focus. It was quiet outdoors. The normal hustle and bustle of the London streets was missing.
“What was dream last night?” said Maja.
Careful.
“I couldn’t sleep properly. I never really got to see it.”
“Oh.”
“You know what it’s like in an unfamiliar bed.”
“No.” Worry finally started to crumple Maja’s perfect porcelain brow. “This is very serious situation.”
“Yes.”
“Guests for Blood of Old London Town will miss start of their tour.”
“I think we may have bigger problems than that.”
Maja looked hurt.
“I get commission for selling tours. Is very bad if they cancel.”
“Perhaps the tour guides are also asleep.”
“This we must hope for.”
Zoe stood up and headed towards the door, needing to see the scene for herself. Maja was uneasy, but followed. This wasn’t any time to be alone.
The silence outside was deafening.
The hotel wasn’t in a major road, but in the capital nowhere was ever this quiet. The world was on hold.
“Is like Day of the Dad.”
“Dead.”
“This too.”
Zoe started walking down the road, hoping against hope that movement would somehow dispel the mirage.
“I must stay in hotel,” protested Maja.
“No-one’s going to know you’re not there.” Maja remained lingering near the door. “Come on. Let’s just see what’s happening.”
Beneath the receptionist’s polite manner she was clearly frightened, and this gave Zoe strength. It was easier to be brave when someone else was even more frightened.
Zoe explored the surrounding streets with wonder, Maja following uncertainly behind. There was a strange beauty in seeing the city like this. The parked cars, the closed shops; everything now part of a great static frieze. Occasionally they saw someone moving around in the distance, but to all intents and purposes the world was on hold.
“We could go anywhere, do anything.” Zoe felt an unfamiliar sense of adventure growing in her belly. Unlike her friends, when she’d been at university she hadn’t felt the urge to go on holiday anywhere you could be eaten by bears or held hostage by dissidents.
Maja looked like she was about to crumble, even though Zoe felt they’d only just started exploring this strange new world. Compassion overtook curiosity.
