“Flivert moi elle?” Bex said to him, straight-faced.
A confused frown crossed his broad face. Bex continued to speak in a language that Carla had never heard before.
She turned to Carla and started jabbering at her. Is this what drunk feels like, as if everyone is speaking gibberish? Carla wondered while Bex waved a bus pass at the bouncer and grabbed her arm, dragging her past him into the dark doorway of the nightclub.
The bouncer let them pass with a shake of his head. “Bloody foreigners,” she heard him mutter.
Bex was still jabbering until they were out of earshot. Then she burst out laughing when they reached the check-in desk of the club.
“What did I missh?” Carla realized her own mouth wasn’t forming words very well now, either.
“Your ID checking,” Bex whispered to her, grinning from ear to ear.
“Ohh,” she mumbled, and she remembered she was underage to drink in Zoola. She grinned at Bex.
Bex handed two flyers to the lady behind the desk. The flyers read ‘Girl’s Night’ with the words ‘Free entry and two free drinks!’ under the title.
The lady pointed the girls toward the glass double doors, which were at the end of the short corridor that the check-in desk was situated in.
Carla followed Bex to another desk first. At this one, they deposited their coats in exchange for a ticket.
She felt a bit naked without her coat. Her black camisole top didn’t cover much. She was also nervous. What if my clothes are a bit too dull? She’d seen people in colorful silk dresses, skirts that could only be described as belts, halters with sparkling jewels on them. Her choice of black clothes and no jewelry didn’t seem sparkly enough for these places.
As she walked toward the double doors, she was amazed to find the floor shaking from the thumping base of the dance music. The vibrations traveling up her legs grew stronger the closer they got to the doors.
Bex pulled one of the doors open and ushered her in. “Welcome to Paradise.”
Her words were drowned out by the deafening music, which escaped from the room when the doors were opened.
She grinned back at Bex and walked through the doors.
A strong hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her to a stop. She peered up in surprise into a pair of ocean-blue eyes, and her heart raced. The man reminded her of Parklon. He was young, maybe twenty. His face was nice, even nicer when he smiled at her. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. Her insides fluttered nervously. Then he stamped her hand with a red image of a lady and winked at her.
Carla bit her lip and smiled back. Then the man stamped Bex’s hand and winked at her too.
Bex rolled her eyes and grabbed Carla’s hand, dragging her away.
“Romance the boys later. Time for dancing now!” She shouted over the music.
Carla turned to see the club, feeling dizzy for a moment. Palm trees dotted the edges of the room in giant planters. There was a long bar encircling the room with topless barmen, and barwomen wearing grass skirts and strategically-placed coconuts serving drinks behind it. The DJ stand was a wooden hut with an open front. The dance floor was glass, with a shallow pool under it. It looked like people were dancing on the ocean.
There were people everywhere, some drinking and some dancing.
Carla stared around her in awe, and she smiled when the hot guy who’d kissed her hand walked past her. He turned around and caught her eye on the way to the bar. She felt more fluttery butterflies in her stomach. God, he’s cute. Drinking is great!
Carla stared in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were red, and her hair was plastered to her head with sweat. Black eye make-up had smeared under her eyes, and it made her look a bit like a panda. Her lipstick had rubbed off onto the many glasses she had drunk from tonight, leaving her looking pale rather than pouty.
She tried to fluff up her hair, but it hung in lank wet strands. Who knew dancing could get so sweaty?
She rubbed some of the black kohl from under her eyes with a tissue, and then dug in her bag for her lipstick. She found it and held it up to her face. She tried to focus and not wobble while she put some on her lips.
“Yikes!” A rough voice next to her ear made her jump, and the lipstick shot across her face.
“You look like crap!” Gobbert said, while Carla grabbed a hand towel and angrily scrubbed the lipstick off her face.
“I thought I’d left you in the apartment.” She scowled at the chubby, little imp.
“I do have other things to do, rather than watch over you, you know.” Gobbert folded his arms and glared at her.
“Oh good, go do them then, and leave me alone!”
A woman in her twenties walked into the bathroom and glanced around. Then she frowned at Carla as if she was insane before rushing into a cubicle.
Carla groaned. “Great, now I’m talking to myself,” she muttered under her breath.
“Why are you whispering?” Gobbert asked, bobbing around in front of her.
Maybe it was the alcohol or the smell of the bathroom, but as Carla watched Gobbert bounce, the room seemed to spin, and her stomach flipped over.
“Uh oh.” Gobbert’s bubble sped out of her way when she dashed to the nearest cubicle and threw up in the toilet.
“Oh, that’s just not attractive,” Gobbert said.
Carla felt as if her insides were dying, and she heaved again.
When she’d finished, she sank back onto the floor with her back against the side of the cubicle, and she closed her eyes. She felt awful.
“Did we learn an important lesson?” Gobbert asked her.
She scowled up at him. Then she determinedly stood up. She crossed the room, heading for the sink and drank some water. After popping a breath mint in her mouth, she fluffed her hair.
“Yep, the night is still young,” she informed Gobbert. She turned on her heel and walked back into the club toward Bex and the dance floor.
Gobbert shook his head. “They never learn.”
Isabella watched the sun peep over the horizon as dawn began to cast its golden glow over the plains.
It would be morning soon, and this was the last leg of their journey to the capital city of Kaens. She could see the city from her bed on the dusty earth. It looked so far away, but she knew that it was only a matter of time before she was dragged through the city streets like a criminal to meet an unknown fate.
She gritted her teeth. She wasn’t planning on giving up just yet.
She rubbed the broken stick faster against her ropes. The rope on her wrist was finally starting to give. Her skin was raw underneath the rope, but she continued to scratch away at the rope with the sharp end of the stick, ignoring the pain.
She heard one of the hunters groan in his sleep and paused until he continued snoring again.
She flashed a wry smile. If one of them farts, I’ll probably jump out of my skin.
After feeling more threads of the rope snap, she tested it, tugging her bindings apart. The rope stretched and painfully tightened against her skin. She tugged it harder, clenching her jaw. The thick cord finally gave way and snapped, freeing her wrist.
She inhaled sharply and glanced around. The hunters were all still sleeping. She quickly untied her feet and removed the rope from her other wrist.
Standing hunched over for a moment, she considered her options. Then she hurried over to the horses. She thought about taking one, but they were too close to the camp. She knew they’d be heard. It’ll be a good distraction if the hunters think I’ve taken a horse, though.
She stole supplies from the nearest horse, taking a bedroll, some water and a cloak. After throwing the cloak around herself, she untied one of the horses and led it away from the camp. When she was far enough away, she slapped it hard on the rump, and it galloped away from the city. Then she turned and ran in the opposite direction, toward the city, using a rocky incline for cover. She pulled the hood up on the cloak to hide her green skin. Then she ran as fast as she could.
Hopefully, the hunters would think she’d tried to get back to where Bob died. If they did, they would follow the horse’s trail back into the wilderness.
Her plan was to get lost in the city and find help before going back to find Bob’s remains. She’d be in the city before midday, and if all went to plan, the hunters would be miles behind, tracking her in the wrong direction.
She stumbled over a rock and fell onto the burnt orange dirt. She checked her clothes for dirt out of habit. As she rubbed the orange mud off her shirt, a spark of an idea popped into her head.
Being green really made her stand out. It would be even worse in the city.
She grabbed handfuls of dirt and began rubbing it on her skin, covering the green tint with burnt orange. I bet I look strange, but it’ll have to do.
Carla winced as something bright flashed against her eyelids. She slowly opened her eyes and squinted when painful beams of sunlight blinded her.
She tried to focus on the room she was in. It wasn’t Parklon’s spare room.
Her brain wasn’t working properly. It was slow and hazy. She tried to sleep for a bit longer, pulling a pillow over her face to block out the sun. She froze for a moment. It smelled funny. Not bad, just not like her pillow.
She opened her eyes again, this time they were working and opened wide with shock.
In bed next to her was a sleeping male, who looked a lot like the stamp guy from last night.
She jumped out of the bed, wide awake. What the hell?
She checked her clothes. She was still dressed. She breathed a sigh, trying to remember how she got here.
She paused on her quest for memories when her stomach flipped over. Oh god, what happened to me? Her head felt as if an anvil was repeatedly banging against it, and her mouth tasted as if something nasty had died in it.
She groaned because every muscle in her body ached. She vaguely remembered hours of dancing, which appeared to be taking their toll now.
As quietly as possible, she searched the room for her bag, finding it slung on the floor. She picked it up and sneaked out of the room, into a house she’d never seen before.
How did I get here? Where is here? Why was I asleep with my boots on? Where’s Bex? Headache-inducing questions filled her head.
She quietly snuck downstairs. People were lounged around the living room, sleeping. One guy on the couch was snoring loudly. A girl on the armchair slept with her mouth hanging open, and her body slumped in an unladylike position.
“Psst!” Carla spun around to see Bex in the doorway. She had black circles around her eyes, and her hair was sticking up all over the place, even more than usual. Bex was barefoot and carrying her shoes. She motioned for Carla to follow her quietly.
Relieved to see her, Carla followed her out of the house as silently as possible.
“Where are we?” she asked Bex once they’d left the house and began walking up the street.
“You don’t remember?” Bex asked. Her voice was hoarse and not as bubbly as usual.
Carla thought back. They’d danced a lot and drunk a lot. She vaguely remembered talking to the stamp guy at some point. She smiled. It had been a fun night. For most of it she’d felt like a goddess of the dance floor. But at no point could she remember the house or going to sleep.
She shook her head, which she quickly regretted when the imaginary anvil started banging against it again.
“Well, it was your idea.” Bex laughed. “Let’s go to this guy’s party.” Bex imitated Carla’s voice, rather badly. “It’ll be a blast!”
“Oh, shit.” Carla laughed, too. “You shouldn’t let me drink. I get too wild!”
“Just how I like ‘em!” Bex put an arm around her and gave her a hug.
“Where did you wake up?” Carla asked.
“I was asleep on the friggin’ staircase, next to some dude in a toga!”
Carla burst out laughing, “Where’s a camera when you need one?”
They were laughing and holding each other up all the way to the taxi rank in the city center. They parted ways with a hug and a promise to do it again tomorrow night.
Carla sank back onto the taxi seat, smiling. It was so exciting. Drinking may make you feel like death the next day, but on the dance floor, you became a goddess. Last night she had been beautiful, exciting and unstoppable. She couldn’t wait to do it again.
She yawned and rubbed her eyes.
“I hope you’re going to brush your teeth when you get home,” Gobbert muttered at her. “You stink right now.”
Then he released a bubble from his rear end and grinned at her when it popped on the taxi driver.
Parklon lay on the rooftop across the road from the warehouse on Riven Street. He’d been watching the warehouse for a few hours now. Much like the Haimfield Medical Institute, the warehouse had only one guard and looked as if it was easy to walk into.
He had checked out the security system. It too had state-of-the-art technology, courtesy of DalsonCorp.
He’d stayed in a cheap motel last night, and he had done more research into facilities in Zoola that had DalsonCorp security. There were several of them, each one with a suspicious connection to criminal activity in some way or another.
He’d sent all the information to HQ, and then he’d destroyed his laptop along with anything that could lead back to him and what he’d been doing here.
Tonight he had one job to do, start a fire and then get the hell out of here.
His plan was simple. He was going to get everyone out of the building, scout around inside the warehouse for the right location, and then start a fire.
His pulse raced as he waited for the last employees to leave. He ran a heat scanner over the building again. It picked up heat sources and life forms. There was still one person in the left side of the building and one guard near the entrance. Several people had already left work for the day. He was just waiting for the last one to leave, and then he could knock out the guard and get to work.
A petite woman with baby-blue hair, wearing a matching blue suit, left the warehouse a few minutes later. Her high heels tapped on the tarmac when she crossed the parking lot, walking toward to a small red car.
Parklon watched her get into the car, check her make-up in the mirror, and then drive away.
He ran the scanner over the building again. The only life form still on the premises was the guard.
Parklon packed his scanner in the hold all, stood up, and hoisted the bag onto his shoulder. He climbed down the metal stairs on the exterior of the building. When he reached ground level, he dashed across the parking lot toward the warehouse.
He could hear the waves of the Great Sea crashing against the docks a few streets away as he hurried toward his target.
He scanned the parking lot. It was empty, and all the buildings were dark. The only vehicle in sight was a black van parked down a side street, but it appeared to be empty. It must be the guard’s van.
The warehouse was closed up except for one small open door next to the massive doors of the loading bay, which were closed.
He went through the door, catching a glimpse of the guard walking out of a side exit. He followed the guard out of the side exit and into the back alley that ran down the side of the warehouse.
The guard turned when he heard Parklon draw close to him. He had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and was about to light it when Parklon punched him hard in the face and knocked him out.
Parklon checked the man’s pulse. He’ll be okay.
He dragged the man down the alley and into an abandoned lot, quickly undressing him down to his boxer shorts before securely tying him to a lamppost.
He glanced back at the warehouse. They were far enough away from it to ensure the guard’s safety when it blew up.
With his heart thumping, he tightly tied a gag around the guard’s mouth, and then he turned to the heap of clothes on the floor.
The man remained unconscious while Parklon stripped off his own clothes, and
then put on the guard’s uniform. It was a tight fit across the shoulders, but then most shirts were for Parklon. He checked the trouser pockets and found a pack of cigarettes in one, an ID card and a set of keys in the other.
Once the guard was taken care of and Parklon was dressed in the uniform, he picked up his bag and rushed back to the warehouse. He wandered in slowly as if he was coming back from a smoke break.
He paused behind the guard station and listened. No alarms had gone off. So far so good.
He needed to check the contents of the warehouse to make sure that Foamy hadn’t sent him on a wild-goose chase, so he picked up a torch and behaved as if he was doing his routine walk through the warehouse. He knew the cameras were watching him and had to make sure he didn’t give anything away until he was ready to destroy the place.
He glanced at his watch. He had some time. It was several hours before any workers would reappear, but faster was better in case someone came into the building by accident between now and the morning.
The warehouse had three floors. The ground-floor was mostly a loading area. There was a vast loading bay and hundreds of packaged boxes on pallets, which appeared ready to be loaded onto trucks. Forklift trucks were dotted around the room, ready to lift the boxes, and there were large stacks of empty pallets on one side of the room.
He walked over to the stocked pallets and shone his flashlight on them. The boxes were the same as the one he’d seen a year ago.
They were labeled as immunization vaccines, which appeared ready to be shipped out to the schools.
Holding in a growl, he narrowed his eyes at them. If these were what he suspected they were, they would mean the death of the many teenagers, who’d receive them by injection.
He peered at the clipboard on the front of the pallet. The vaccines were going to be distributed globally very soon. If these shots had the Derehtob disease in them, a lot of kids were going to die.
But right now, they looked like safe medical vaccines, which would be distributed to schools.
Since he didn’t have time to send these to the lab to be tested for the disease, he decided that this place had to burn tonight. If there was a chance they had the disease in them, he couldn’t let them get shipped anywhere.
Science Fiction and Fantasy Box Set 1: The Squishies Series Page 26
