Another step forwards and the automatic door slid open to the accompaniment of a recording of a tinkling bell. A few of the workers glanced up, but most carried on with their duties—again, nothing unusual about her behaviour at all.
As the door closed behind her, the humidity of the laundromat enveloped her. The outside seemed positively arid by comparison and she started sweating harder than before. If her corset was much tighter, she'd probably slip from it like a wet bar of soap.
With the musty chemical taste of damp and detergent filling her mouth, Marie walked over to a machine and put her bag of washing on the side. The place reeked so badly of stale sweat, it was hard to imagine any clothes coming out of there fresh.
The laundromat was one of the places reserved for the privileged poor. Most people either had washing machines or lived on the estate. The laundromat served that small demographic that were in neither camp, a demographic Marie had joined by choice today. It was why there was no air conditioning, no padded seats, and no free tea or coffee. These places were run to be as cheap for the consumer as possible.
All Marie had to do was dump her washing into the machine and it would do the rest. The clothes passed through several compartments on their different cycles, separating them as was needed and returning them all pressed and ironed. Despite the simplicity of the technology, estate labour was so cheap that the laundromat still hired people to do the work.
A scan of the room showed Marie there were at least two workers for every machine. The clientele all looked as tired as she did. They dressed differently enough so they didn't look like they belonged on the estate, but none of them were preened to the level of Kitty Trollope and her band of socialites. Lethargy hung in the hot air and dripped off these people's worn features. Life was a struggle, even for the privileged poor. Although, if someone offered Marie that struggle now as a way to guarantee she didn't end up on the estate, she'd rip their arm off. Damn straight she would take it; counting pennies and watching what you ate was much easier than being bullied and oppressed by the government.
A helper appeared at her side and a pang ran through her chest. It was the man from the other day. Purple bruising painted his features, but he was okay. He was back at work and it looked like there hadn't been any further problems. Thank god, he was okay.
With his attention on the washing machine, he loaded it up and spoke from the side of his mouth. "Thank you for saving me the other day. I hadn't done anything wrong, but there was no way I would have got away if you hadn't intervened. You saved my life."
A hot rush stung her eyeballs and Marie didn't respond for a moment. It was hard to keep her voice low with the lump in her throat, even after she cleared it. "And how are you now?"
Before he could answer, the ring of the bell signalled the arrival of another customer. Marie's heart sank when she looked over at the doorway and six police officers strode in. What were they doing here? Every estate worker in the place tensed up and stared at the floor.
A quick scan of the faces showed Marie none of them was the boy officer from the other day. What a relief! Surely, they were here for some other reason.
The one clearly in charge flashed his badge and addressed the room. "Please don't panic." With a tablet in his hand, he spun it around to show a mug shot of a man from the estate. It was the man filling Marie's machine. "We're here to find a worker that resisted arrest the other day."
Marie looked across at the man next to her. The instruction for him to run nestled in her throat. If she created a distraction, it would give him the chance to go out the back. He may lose his job, but he'd still have his life. Instead, she said nothing.
In a matter of seconds, the officer in charge pointed at the man. "You!"
The man knew he was caught, but he kept his head down and muttered to himself as he continued loading up Marie's washing. It was impossible to hear what he was saying. Maybe it was prayer, maybe a curse.
Like a dog locked on a scent, the officer stormed over, barging into Marie on his way through.
Marie rubbed her shoulder where he'd connected with her and glared at the man. What the fuck was wrong with him?
He scowled back. "You need to watch yourself, lady; you might get hurt if you stand in the way."
No way was he talking to her like that. No fucking way! Marie stepped between the officer and the man from the estate and jabbed the policeman in the chest. "Don't you dare talk to me like that; I know my rights. I'm not from the estate, so I'm protected by the justice system. Just because I have to do my washing in here, it doesn't mean you can treat me like shit."
The already silent room got quieter still. What was she thinking?
The officer raised an eyebrow and spoke with a dry tone. "So sue me." He then reached past Marie, grabbed the man from the estate, and yanked him towards him.
At first, the man shrugged the officer off, slipping free from his grasp. He continued to fill the washing machine, staring into the drum as he deliberately placed the clothes inside. Maybe he thought that by doing his job he'd be left alone. He'd obviously forgotten the run-in he’s already had with Nirvana's finest.
Heavy breaths rocked the officer as he watched the estate worker. He wound tighter with every passing moment. After a couple of seconds, he removed his baton from his belt.
As much as Marie wanted to help the man, she stepped back. There was no way she was getting in the way of that baton.
For a moment, everything was still.
Whack!
The end of the baton connected with the side of the worker's head and his legs folded beneath him. On his way down, his face crashed into the washing machine, sending out another loud crack.
It looked like the officer was going to swing for him again; instead, he grabbed the worker's collar and dragged him backwards across the room.
The estate worker was still conscious, his red face turning purple as he fought to breathe.
When they got to the door, he tried to scrabble to his feet but the officer kicked his legs away and said, "You're being charged for resisting arrest, do I need to double that charge?"
Still gasping, his tongue lurching from his mouth, the man from the estate shook his head.
The officer then pulled him to his feet. While glaring at Marie, he yanked the man's hands behind his back and cuffed him.
Once he'd finished, he turned the man back around so they were facing one another. They were so close, their noses nearly touched. The officer then took his baton in both hands, wound it back, and drove the centre of it into the estate worker's gut.
Air exploded in a deep bark from the man from the estate, his mouth opening wide as he fell to his knees. He then dropped onto all fours and sucked at the air around him as he tried to get his breath back.
Marie fought against her tears as she watched the six officers levy a barrage of kicks on the man. Why did she come here? What had she hoped to achieve? All she'd take away were more nightmares and more fear.
After a couple of minutes, the lead officer held his hand up. "Stop there, lads. Pin him down."
"Wait!" The word came out before Marie had thought about it.
The beating looked like it had taken a lot of energy from the officer, who panted as he stared at Marie, his hair dishevelled. "You again? Wait for what?"
She had to say something to get them to stop—anything; they couldn't take him away. She pointed at the washing machine. "Um… He was doing my washing. Who's going to do it now?" A slow cringe snaked through her. Did she just say that?
While looking at Marie, the officer raised his right leg, clenched his jaw, and stamped down hard on the man's forearm.
The wet crunch of breaking bone was followed by the man's shrill scream.
A leering grin spread across the officer’s face. "Not him." He then leaned over, grabbed a nearby estate worker and shoved him in Marie's direction.
"Wait!" Marie said again.
Red-faced and with veins standing out on his neck, t
he sweating officer roared, "For what?"
When Marie opened her mouth, she saw the man from the estate look up at her. While holding his arm and crying, he shook his head ever so slightly.
Marie's body sagged. "Nothing."
A second or two passed during which time the officer glowered at Marie as if daring her to speak again. When he seemed satisfied that she wouldn't, he grabbed the estate worker by his cuffed wrists and dragged him out of the laundromat.
The man's scream as he was pulled along by his broken arm echoed around inside of Marie's skull. The memory of it would stay with her forever.
When they were gone, Marie stumbled backwards. She flopped down onto the bench, her body falling limp. As she sat there, shocked and staring at the closing doors, she listened to the insults from the other customers.
"Estate rat!"
"Terrorist!"
"Faggot!"
Why did she come here? What had she seriously hoped to achieve?
Chapter Thirty-Two
A rock of nausea had moved into Marie's stomach during the night. When she woke, it was like she'd eaten more food than she could cope with. It took several blinks before she could read the clock on her bedside table. The red, watery blur of the LCD display finally showed her it was just past seven in the morning. Why was she up this early on a Sunday?
Lethargy ran a low buzz of numbness through her muscles as she stared up at the white ceiling. It had been a rough night. Every time she drifted off, the events of the day before gatecrashed her dreams. The same mental movie showed the man from the laundromat having his arm shattered as she stood by and watched. That was the part that bothered her most; she had done nothing to help—nothing!
The sudden appearance of Frankie above her made Marie shriek, "Jesus, Frank, I didn't see you there." There was a beaming smile on his face, which she countered with a heavy frown. "What are you so happy about?"
"I have a surprise for you today."
It was hard to get excited. "Oh? What is it?"
Although Frankie's eyes pinched at the sides—his obvious disappointment at her lack of enthusiasm—he kept going. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you would it?"
The more she woke up, the more the memories of the day before fought for her attention. It was impossible to still the slideshow of suffering that galloped through her mind.
"Are you okay, Marie?"
There was no point in sharing her torment with him; it would serve no purpose. Marie sat up and folded her legs beneath her. Unfortunately, the torment didn't remain on the pillow; the police officer grinned in her mind. Crack! The man's arm snapped in two.
"So when will this surprise start?" Was her forced enthusiasm too obvious?
"Today. Now!"
The smallest smile crept onto her face. "Do I need to get changed?"
Frankie laughed and shook his head. "It's not that kind of a surprise." He rolled his eyes. "You and your filthy mind."
The knockback ran straight to her heart. It didn't matter how many times Marie's advances were rejected; Frankie always had the power to crush her. That was the last time she was going to suggest any kind of physical intimacy with him. If he wanted it, he could come begging for it. But the problem was that he never did. A lump rose in her throat and she swallowed it down into the pit of disappointment that had seemed bottomless inside of her at one time, but was now very full. "I'll be ready in five minutes. Is that okay?"
Frankie grinned and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "Perfect. I'll just get the last few bits together." With that, he left the room.
The first thing Marie looked at was the corset hanging from the chair in the bedroom. "Do I need to strap up today, Frankie?"
The reply came from the front room. "No, darling, you'll be fine."
Wow! Where was he taking her? Marie leaned over, grabbed the corset, bundled it up, and threw it into a pile of dirty washing in the corner of the room. The machine was working again so she could finally take a day to wash it. When she stood up to get dressed, her long nails found the rash around her middle and she gently scratched her sore skin.
***
Once they were outside, the heat was as high as all of the other days. However, without a corset wrapped around her, it was like it had dropped a few degrees and was almost bearable. But why had Frankie said she didn’t need to wear it? Marie held an arm across her stomach and glanced around. "We shouldn't be out without my corset on."
With his attention on a CCTV camera mounted on a nearby lamppost, Frankie scratched his face and pulled at a strap on his rucksack. It looked like it was ready to fall from his shoulder. "It'll be fine, darling. Today's about having fun and letting me worry, okay?"
"It's hard to have fun when I feel so vulnerable. This is the first time I've left the house so underdressed." God, she sounded like a whiny bitch.
After watching the camera pan away, Frankie turned to her. "It's fine, trust me. There's no need for you to worry about a thing today."
Unable to prevent her frown, Marie nodded okay. What was he planning?
They set off again and Frankie continued looking around as if he were searching for something.
Suddenly a couple of the cameras picked the pair up, following them as they walked. There was surveillance at least every twenty metres in Nirvana, so it wasn't uncommon to be watched by more than one eye in the sky.
With a low voice, Marie spoke from the side of her mouth. "Where are we going?"
Without replying, Frankie stopped. There was a football on the path in front of them. When the cameras moved off them again, he took two quick steps and kicked the ball hard and high. The cameras moved as one, locking onto its trajectory as they traced it through the air.
What the hell?
Before Marie had time to ask, Frankie grabbed her hand and yanked her into a nearby bush. They moved at a fast march and Marie had to bob and weave to avoid the thick shrubbery that came at her from all heights. "What's going on, Frankie?"
A branch sprang back and whipped her cheek. The sting made her eyes water, but Marie stifled her cry. "Frankie, where are we going?"
They were marching towards a wire fence. It was a dead end. When Frankie tugged on the fence, he revealed a slit that was big enough for them to step through. After pressing a finger to his lips, he then circled the same finger in the air around them.
She got it; the cameras had microphones, so she needed to shut up.
A tug on the fence and Frankie had made the gap big enough for Marie. At first, she didn't move, but when he nodded for her to enter, Marie did as he asked.
On the other side, Marie waited while Frankie stepped through the gap into the woods and eased the fence back into place. Before she could ask him anything else, he'd taken her hand again and was leading her deeper into the woods.
As they walked, the only sound Marie heard—other than her own heavy breaths—was the crunch of the fallen pine needles beneath her feet. Surrounded by the strong scent of evergreen, she took in their environment. Frankie had asked her not to worry, so she wasn't going to. Everything would become clear in time.
***
After they'd marched for another few minutes, Frankie stopped. "This is where I wanted to bring you. I wanted to make sure we were out of range of the cameras' microphones before I said anything."
While catching her breath, Marie looked around. "But we're not supposed to be here."
"I know; that's why we had to keep quiet. I placed the football on the path earlier so I could kick it at exactly the right point. The moving object took the camera's attention so we could disappear."
"But what if someone saw us?"
"The cameras weren't on us. Besides, with the amount of cameras in the city, the chances of someone even noticing a football flying through the air at precisely the moment we vanished, has to be slim."
"But not impossible…"
Frankie placed his hands on his hips. "Didn't I tell you not to worry today?"
A deep
breath filled Marie lungs with the fresh air surrounding them. It was nice to be away from the smoggy city, yet all she could do was moan. With her gaze down, she dragged a semicircle with her foot in the soft brown carpet of dead needles. "Sorry, but I thought we had to stay out of the woods because they're dangerous."
"It's not that; it's because there's no news broadcasts in here. They tell us it’s dangerous because they don't want to put screens on every tree to flash up their message of fear and hate. It's easier to just keep us out."
"Are you sure?"
Frankie showed her the palm of his hand. "Stop it!"
"Just one last thing."
"Go on."
"How will we distract the cameras when we want to come out of the bush later?"
"I have another ball hidden in the hedge. Can we enjoy our day now?"
Marie nodded and followed after Frankie as he walked away again.
***
They walked uphill, downhill, and even crossed a small stream before Frankie finally stopped. After removing a folded blanket from his bag, he spread it out and looked back up at Marie. "Go on then, sit down."
Marie did as he asked and looked at the thick canopy overhead. It was dense enough to block out the fierce sun. The air was cool and the stream they'd crossed tinkled in the background. "I feel a million miles away from home in here."
While unpacking plastic plates and cutlery, Frankie grinned. "Wonderful, isn't it?"
The heavy scent of pine rode the air and Marie listened to the birds singing around them. It wasn't a sound she was used to hearing in the city—the coo of pigeons, maybe, but not proper birdsong. The first true smile she'd felt in a long time lifted the corners of her mouth. "It's beautiful, Frankie. Thank you."
"Wait until you see the lunch I've prepared for us." With that, Frankie produced a plastic box and popped the lid free. "Ta-da!"
Marie looked down at the food and covered her mouth to hide her smile. When she looked back up at Frankie, it was impossible to hold back her laugh.
New Reality 2: Justice Page 15
