by Frazer Lee
He’d been a good father to his Lucy, but still she had fallen prey to the evils of the Internet, succumbed to the drink and drugs peddled by the modern world. He’d had to admit to his own failings before he could act, confident that what he was doing was right. This time he would not fail. He would exact his revenge efficiently, without overlooking a single microscopic detail.
Lucy had become lost to him because she had managed to keep her secret world hidden. So he had created a secret world from which his targets could never hide. He knew everything about them, and this knowledge would be their undoing. They were so reliant on technology it had been easy as pie for him to conceal the fact that he’d already had their loved ones killed. The saucy text from Sarah to Dave - sent after she’d been drugged and taken to the hanging room. The All2gethr chat messages from Emily to Gwen - a simple matter of looking at the sister’s chat archive in order to emulate her messaging style. Their bodies were gone now, drowned with the plane. Only Sophie remained.
When he’d laid eyes on Sophie for the very first time, it was as though fate had offered him a second chance to prove himself as a father, and as the moral crusader the modern world so sorely needed. It was then that he knew he must take the child for his own, and dispose of the mother.
The little girl stirred, becoming aware of his presence in the room. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, towering over her like a shadow. He beamed down at her, his new little girl. His prize. How pretty she was.
“Hell-o Lucy. Did you sleep well?”
The girl flinched. Probably still sleepy, poor lamb.
“My name is Sophie.”
Ah yes, still half asleep! He smiled at her, patiently.
“Your name is Lucy now. Do you understand me? L-U-C-Y.”
A glimmer of fear passed over the little girl’s face.
Fear is healthy, fear is good, stops a young girl from growing up to become too much like her whore of a mother.
She nodded at him.
“Good girl. I should like to introduce myself properly. My name is Rupert Turner.”
He grinned down at his new Lucy, his teeth gleaming white as an alligator’s.
“Come on. Now you’ve had a good rest there are some people I’d like you to meet.”
Taking her tiny hand in his, he led her out of the room and up some concrete stairs.
He let go of the little girl’s hand and pushed at a trap door above their heads. He helped Sophie up via a little stepladder and into a garage. Seeing the girl’s nose wrinkle at the strong hospital smell inside the garage, he strode over to the corrugated metal door and slid it open over his head. Fresh air and blinding bright daylight flooded in.
Sophie covered her eyes with her arm in shock.
Rupert chuckled to see her look so pleased to be out and about. My little Lucy.
“Come along,” he said, “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then you can meet the rest of the family.”
“Here she is!”
Rupert Turner grinned from ear to ear as he led his new little Lucy into the kitchen.
His wife turned away from the kitchen sink, grabbing a little hand towel so she could dry off her hands.
Rupert beamed at her. She looked excited. He felt a swell of pride, recalling how brilliantly his wife had played the part of the limousine driver as he’d watched expectantly via his webcam feeds. He felt amused even now at her stern, motherly manner with the passengers, as she’d insisted they hand over their mobile phones. She would be delighted with her new daughter, especially now Soph... no, Lucy, was scrubbed up so nicely.
“Hello Lucy, I’m Annie. I’m going to be your Mum from now on - isn’t that nice?”
She smiled at Sophie, a joyful tear in her eye. Without giving the child a chance to reply, Annie called out into the adjoining room.
“Ed! Come and greet your sister!”
Rupert’s son entered the room. His gait was a little hesitant, borne of the strange tension that existed between him and his father after all they had done in recent days. His father had been judge and jury, and he the executioner. The luggage had been so heavy to load up on the private jet, once it was laden with human effluent. Ed smiled awkwardly at his father, then stooped down to greet the little girl. He ruffled her hair with his big fat fingers. His hand had the same persistent hospital smell as the odour in the garage.
Rupert corralled them into a neat group in the middle of the room.
Then he activated the little digital camera, which lay ready atop the kitchen table next to the fruit bowl. The little red light blinked three times then the room was lit with a blinding flash as the shutter activated.
Rupert dashed, excited, back to the table and picked up the camera to look. The four of them were pictured on the little view screen. A shame, their little Lucy had her eyes closed. She must have blinked when the flash went off.
No, matter, thought Rupert, there will be more family snaps to come. Enough for a lifetime.
He carried the camera over to show Lucy. They all smiled warmly at her, with great pride, as if welcoming a newborn child into the world for the very first time.
“Shall we?” Annie ventured.
Rupert put his jacket on and took Sophie firmly by the hand. He led her out of the front door, into the street. It was suburban road like any other, the branches of blossom trees swayed in the gentle breeze, little white petals raining down on them like confetti.
Annie and Ed walked alongside Sophie and Rupert. To a passer by, they would look like a normal family unit, out for a stroll.
Rupert felt his new daughter’s hand slipping from his fingers. He tightened his grip, holding her firm and thinking, I’ll never let you go, Lucy.
As they crossed the road together and walked to the playground, a plane screamed low overhead coming in to land.
(Extracts from NEWS OF THE PLANET used with kind permission of the publishers)
MYSTERY OF FLIGHT D-665
from our correspondent
Government officials are reporting that a private jet has crashed into the sea off the coast of Norway. It seems the Challenger 604 aircraft was flying at extremely low altitude in stormy weather when the cabin depressurised. Fatalities cannot so far be confirmed, and no representative from private jet Charter Company Deppart Airlines was available for comment at the time of going to press.
IN-FLIGHT VIDEO GOES VIRAL
by Technology Editor, David Shilling
A viral video that apparently shows the events onboard Flight D-665 that led up to the crash has emerged online. Outbursts of extreme violence culminating in brutal bloody murder can be seen in the grainy video, which was first made available via online torrent groups. A number of Internet Service Providers have attempted to block the video, following a raft of complaints from child protection agencies and members of the public.
“These deplorable acts of violence are not the kind of material we want our children to see,” said Internet censorship campaigner Marcus Sebastian Shaw at a press conference earlier today, “Anyone watching or distributing this video is part of a larger problem and should be ashamed of themselves. The authorities should be doing more to protect us and our kids from such material.”
FLIGHT D-665 BODIES FOUND - VIRAL VIDEO ‘GENUINE’
breaking news by Barry Conway
...an air crash investigation team official confirmed that many more bodies were found amidst the wreckage. This would apparently confirm that the air flight video is in fact genuine. With over 2 million views of the video to date, All2gethr is under increasing pressure to respond to claims that they could have prevented loss of life if they had acted sooner. News of the Planet has tried repeatedly to get a statement from an All2gethr representative, but no one has yet come forward...
Epilogue
Let us open a window on the world.
Zooming in, we might find a city - there, there’s one. Let’s look closer. A fleet of black cars is processing towards a large municipal building, a monume
nt of red brick, glass and slate roof tile. Hundreds of insect forms are lining the entrance to the building, dressed in their finery.
Let’s zoom in a little closer.
The insects are mourners, crowds of them, come to share in their collective grief - over people they didn’t really, actually know. The cars stop, and the invited guests clamber out. They trail into the building - it is a church hall.
Why not open another window and take a peek inside?
Floral tributes are everywhere in great stifling bunches, sitting atop pedestals. A huge projector screen displays slide images of the passengers of Deppart Airlines Flight D-665, and their dead friends and family members. Living relatives and friends, some already sobbing into handkerchiefs, take their seats in neat rows.
The ceremony begins, and a man steps up to a lectern to address the crowd. He is in his fifties, and wears the collar and cloth of a priest. His facial expression can barely contain his pent-up anger and emotion. He glances at his dear wife, gaining strength enough to speak from the look in her eyes. He is Father Rhys - Gwen’s father.
“Our hearts go out to the families and friends of those affected by these terrible events,” he says.
He looks almost relieved to be getting the words out, his voice cracked with regret.
The slide changes on the screen to one of Mike, the unfortunate young man who had his arms hacked off.
Look over there, on the front row to the left.
There’s a man in his twenties, just like Mike. His face burns red with anger and grief. He doesn’t look like he’s slept for days, poor lad. This must be Mike’s brother, the real Max Nichols, who carelessly had his identity stolen and so was not aboard Flight D-665. Perhaps he doesn’t feel so lucky to be alive, knowing what happened to the others - knowing what happened to his brother.
“And our prayers are with those lost souls who continue to watch... and share the events via the Internet...” the priest continues, his tone somewhat bitter.
Behind Max, on the very back row, two young boys are oblivious to Father Rhys’ words. They are engrossed in watching something on a mobile phone screen. They each have an ear bud inserted into one ear, so they can both hear the audio.
Let’s take a closer look, shall we? All we have to do is adjust our viewing angle.
There, they are watching the viral video from the plane, whispering to each other in quiet excitement as another passenger dies before their young eyes.
On the projector screen, the slide changes to a portrait of another of the passengers.
“We must pay tribute to...” This time the priest falters, struggling to speak the words. “Jo Scott.”
It’s as if the words are stuck in the poor man’s throat.
“Whose brave final actions saved countless lives...”
He pauses again. We all know why. We all know he’s seen the video along with pretty much everyone else on the planet. Maybe he just can’t get it out of his head, the image of Jo Scott breaking his daughter’s neck. Perhaps that’s how he will always remember her, as a murderer - not as the selfless heroine who crashed the plane into the sea, saving the All2gethr headquarters and its staff.
A young woman weeps silently, seated to the far left of the gathering. She looks up at the image of her sister Jo, trembling with barely suppressed rage. The woman is Maddie Scott, returned early from her travels. It will take a long time for her to come to terms with the fact that she was absent when her entire family were killed. It may take even longer for her to face up to the cold hard fact that she chose not to have any contact with them for weeks.
“We will never forget our loved ones,” Father Rhys struggles on, “Cut down so early in life...”
Tears flood from his eyes now, and he almost collapses over the lectern beneath the crushing weight of his grief. His wife rushes from the sidelines to help him down from the podium. And in the hullabaloo, the slide on the screen changes to one of Sophie Scott, the young girl who is still reported missing...
Let us zoom out now, and leave these people to contemplate the hard-earned lessons of their grief.
From high above, the world can look like such a peaceful, idyllic place. Vast blue oceans kissing the shores of lush green landmasses - a world of infinite possibilities.
But we see a different picture.
We know the world is host to an insect scourge. Their networks of roads and cities crammed with buildings, all conjured from the minds and hands of human beings. They swarm the planet like an infestation, driven by dreams of avarice, fuelled by greed.
And not content with polluting this world, they have seen fit to create another. A virtual world that presents a pathetic fallacy of utopia.
How they wish their second life in that world could be better than the lifetime they spend trapped in their frail bodies. But this virtual world is merely a mirror for their many failures, an extension of their rot and sin, a dumping ground for their basest desires. Like the toxic waste it seeks to bury in the real world, humanity’s virtual crimes will out.
There is an Alligator wrapped around that world, his sinewy tail and razor talons gripping it tight.
His eyes are like orbs of fire, with dark slits at their core, and they see all. He sees us. He knows what we do, and pieces together the breadcrumb-trails of data we so carelessly leave behind. He is watching, waiting.
He is watching you.
About the Author
Frazer Lee is a writer and director whose screen credits include the award-winning short horror movies On Edge, Red Lines, Simone, and the horror/thriller feature film Panic Button. His short stories have appeared in anthologies including the acclaimed Read By Dawn series and his first novel The Lamplighters is published by Samhain Horror. He lives with his family in Buckinghamshire, England, where he is working on new fiction and film projects.
Official Website: http://www.frazerlee.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/frazer_lee
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorFrazerLee
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