Splintered

by Laura J Harris

  Prior seemed to growl, staring through Kelly more than at her. ‘The issue is in the subject of the paintings. And, yes we know where you were, Miss Livingstone.’ he paused, drawing in a long breath as he slowed his speech; regaining some semblance of control. ‘That is, we know your whereabouts for part of the evening. You were — as you say — here in the medical bay . . . from sometime just before six o’clock last night. Dr Matthews tended to your injuries and checked you over,’ he hesitated, ‘before moving you back to your room. Within the hour.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Kelly said, physically agitated by this news, ‘You mean she just patched me up and sent me out? Was I even conscious then?’

  ‘Not so far as we’re aware.’ Prior sighed.

  ‘What kind of half-arsed, idiotic doctor would do that? I could have fucking died!’

  Prior sucked in a breath, his green eyes set. As rock. Locked on Kelly. She watched him, silently daring him to say something. But, it was Christine who eventually spoke.

  ‘Kelly, I know this must be difficult for you to process. Dr Matthews should never have discharged you like that and I’m certain,’ she said, though she wasn’t, ‘that under ordinary circumstances she’d never have done anything so irresponsible. But, last night was no ordinary night.’

  ‘You mean the storm?’ Kelly asked, watching Christine as she shifted her weight absently, flexing her injured knee, ‘Shona mentioned something about it messing everything up. She said we have no communication. No satellite, GPRS, WIFI, stuff like that. Is that true?’

  Prior and Christine exchanged a knowing look.

  ‘Yes and no.’ said Prior.

  ‘What d’you mean yes and no?’

  ‘There was a storm last night.’ Christine began, ‘A bad storm, yes. But, it wasn’t responsible for the . . . casualties that arrived in the medical bay around the same time you did. Neither was it responsible for loss of power and communication.’

  ‘So, what was?’

  ‘Not what.’ said Prior, ‘Who.’

  ‘Who?’

  Prior nodded. ‘Last night the communications and main-power functions of the ship were sabotaged remotely from an emergency station in engineering. Dr Kane and I agree that whoever was responsible for this is also more than likely to be behind the other crimes that were committed both last night and Friday evening. The crimes so vividly and perfectly captured in the paintings that were discovered in your room in the early hours of this morning.’

  ‘Crimes?’ Kelly asked, genuinely concerned.

  Christine nodded slowly, her solemn air ensnaring Kelly completely, forcing her absolute attention as the pictures from the SD card eventually began to creep across the screen besides her. She could see a blur of tangled colours on the periphery, though her eyes were locked onto Christine, whose dire expression sent chills up and down her spine in expectation of her next words.

  ‘Last night twenty-three members of the engineering crew died of anoxic asphyxiation. They were sealed in a room that was flooded with carbon dioxide.’

  ‘Shit.’ said Kelly, ‘And it wasn’t a mechanical fault?’

  ‘We don’t think so,’ Christine continued, ‘another engineer, the Deputy Chief in fact, was tortured and brutally murdered.’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘As was Dr Cunningham.’

  ‘The guy that was sat at the table with us on Friday?’ Kelly asked. Prior nodded slowly. ‘Oh my God, that’s horrible. I — ’

  ‘That’s not all.’ Christine said, inching her way across the tiny room, ‘A young Bride-to-be was also killed and mutilated. Mutilated and killed. Both in fact. And all these incidents occurred within the space of about sixteen hours.’

  ‘What? How?’ Kelly struggled, ‘How did the girl die?’

  ‘Take a look.’ Prior said in a low bark, ‘the painting’s quite an accurate depiction of the scene we were greeted with last night. It even includes some snap-shots of her degradation and demise along the way. The parts we didn’t get to see.’

  Kelly turned to face the screen, her stomach sinking, heavy and ice-cold as she beheld the digital representation of a painting entitled W.H.O.R.E.

  Prior leaned in close to her as her eyes continued to dance about the screen, scanning the image; the artist in her appreciating the quality of the work; the human being in her wanting to vomit at the knowledge that the sorry state of the model in each snap-shot was no mere artistic representation and creation. It was real, brutal destruction.

  ‘Do you recognise the style of the work?’

  Kelly nodded slowly, unable to tear her eyes from the screen or even rebuke the Security Chief for his not-so-quiet accusations. Flicking to the next image, she felt her stomach lurch again as she was confronted by the blood-soaked, amalgamated horror of an image that wouldn’t look out of place in a post-apocalyptic, Giger-inspired sci-fi graphic novel. She shuddered and moved on to the next image, gasping as she came face to face with the clearly deceased, yet tauntingly jovial facade of Dr Cunningham. She brought her hand to her mouth, stifling a small sob.

  ‘Kelly?’ Christine said, resting a supportive hand on her arm, ‘Are you ok?’

  ‘How can I be?’ she said, tears in her eyes, ‘This is my work, Christine. Look at it. It’s my style, my technique.’

  ‘Technique can be mirrored.’ the psychologist said softly, finding Prior’s green, narrowed eyes as she spoke, ‘Style can be copied.’

  Kelly shook her head, unable to form words.

  Prior’s radio bleeped suddenly, cutting through the silence with a jolt that made them all physically jump.

  ‘Prior.’ he answered.

  ‘Sir . . . we’ve got a bit of a situation in the Seraphim Suite.’

  Kelly recognised the voice as belonging to the pointless, ginger creation that had rifled through her bags two mornings earlier.

  ‘What kind of situation, Collins?’ Prior said, a hint of irritation in his voice.

  ‘There’s . . . there’s two more bodies. Sir.’

  Prior shook his head and cursed under his breath, annoyed that this exasperating message-bearer had managed to taint his natural reaction to such tragic news; the mere sound of Collins’ voice pissing him off beyond belief.

  He looked to Christine, feeling her eyes already on him.

  ‘You can stay here if you want.’ he said.

  She shook her head, a half-smile curling the corners of her mouth.

  ‘And leave you stumbling around in the dark?’

  Kelly felt Christine touch her shoulder once more. She sighed, releasing a long, slow breath and looked up at the psychologist who she already held in such high esteem.

  ‘You’ll be okay, won’t you?’ she asked, in those warm Scottish tones. Kelly nodded, feeling wholly unconfident in her silent testimony. ‘Have a nurse check over your stitches and bruising now that everything’s had a chance to settle down. Okay? I don’t know when you’ll be allowed back into your suite, but if you wanted to go — ’

  ‘It’s ok.’ Kelly said, ‘If someone’s already been in there once . . . some murdering, bloody psychopathic, impersonating freak . . .’ she sighed, ‘What’s to stop them getting in again? I don’t even want to think about it.’

  ‘If we feel that someone is targeting you, Miss Livingstone,’ Prior said, ‘I swear I’ll do everything within my power to protect you.’

  Kelly turned on him, ‘If you feel? Does that mean that you don’t think I’m involved anymore? Did I pass your test?’ she said, trying not to spit her words at him.

  ‘I had to check.’

  She gave a firm nod in answer as she pulled herself to her feet, clenching her teeth as a fleeting pain stabbed through her thigh where the fresh stitches had snagged on the denim of her jeans.

  ‘I don’t think you should be on your own.’ Christine said, stopping her before she reached the door.

  ‘I won’t.’ Kelly returned, without looking at her.

  ‘I can assign someone to — ’ Prior offered,
only to be cut short.

  ‘That’s ok. Shona’s said I can go back to hers.’

  Kelly heard Christine release a short, quiet breath; but, more than this, she seemed to feel her deflate. For a brief moment she appeared fragile, doll-like; a young girl dealing with rejection. Then, in an instant, any sign of vulnerability was gone. Dissipated. Walls up once more. ‘Am I free to go?’ she said.

  ‘Of course you are.’ Christine answered, softly.

  Kelly turned the handle and stepped out of the room with an awkward hobble, quickly closing the door behind her.

  Christine watched Kelly leave, a cocktail of confusing emotions rattling her heart and her head. She wanted Kelly to be safe. And yet the thought of her in the arms of that vainglorious vixen she had seen outside set her teeth on edge.

  She was so sure of herself, that one. The type of woman who knew exactly what she wanted and was rarely denied.

  Yes, she was beautiful. But she knew it.

  And she had a callous competitiveness about her, a look in her eye that was almost animal. Like a she-wolf warding off any other’s interest in her mate with a silent snarl.

  ‘Christine?’

  She turned back to Prior, flashing a poor attempt at a smile as she tried to mask her thoughts.

  ‘Come on then.’ she said, ‘It’s probably best if you lead the way.’

  10:14

  Sunday 15th May, 2011

  Kelly hadn’t hung around in the ever-filling waiting room. She no longer cared to be checked over by any member of the medical staff, particularly not Dr Matthews.

  She had many words she would like to say to the good doctor, though none of them were particularly pleasant. And yet she knew she should be grateful for the fact that Matthews had tended to her injuries at all, even if her later judgements had not been the best.

  She was still seething by the time she reached the cloudless blue and the cool breeze of the top open deck, Shona racing to join her.

  ‘Hey!’ she called, ‘What’s wrong with you? Where are you going?’

  Kelly felt a firm hand on her shoulder trying to spin her round. She knew it was Shona. Knew that she wanted only to help. Knew she was indebted to the dazzling dancer for all that she had done already. And yet she shook her off like a sulking teenager, folding her arms across the white, painted rail and resting her chin on them, pressing her face into the wind and enjoying the refreshing onslaught of sea air as she tried to organise her thoughts.

  ‘What happened in there?’ Shona asked, drawing up besides her.

  ‘What do you know about the storm last night?’

  ‘What does that have — ’

  ‘Did you know that it wasn’t responsible the power loss? Or the casualties?’

  Shona turned her body, pressing her back against the safety railing and leaning in close, forcing Kelly to look her in the eye. ‘What do you mean casualties?’

  Kelly didn’t reply. Where should she begin?

  ‘I heard people talking when I went to get milk this morning, but I didn’t really — ’

  ‘So you left me alone too!’ Kelly raged without thinking.

  ‘I nipped to the shop to get a pint of milk, Kelly. It’s like ten steps away from my room. Literally!’ Shona replied, ‘It’s not like you were going anywhere and — anyway — I’m not your babysitter!’

  Kelly shot a look at Shona, feeling the heat of all her rage rising inside as her chest swelled and her hands balled suddenly into fists. ‘I know you’re not my babysitter! I don’t need a fucking babysitter! Alright?’

  In her mind Kelly was transported back to a place she thought she had managed to obliterate from her memory completely. A place too painful to exist.

  She was nine years old and standing in the blackened remains of her family home. She could still taste the bitter smack of the thick, blue-grey smoke that had engulfed the small, detached house. That had filled her little lungs.

  She had been in hospital for nearly a week, recovering from severe smoke inhalation and several minor injuries. This had been the first time she had been allowed outside.

  The white plastic band on her arm had itched and she had known — even then — that they would be coming for her soon. But, for those few, short minutes she was home.

  In some ways it hadn’t mattered that it was only a shell. And yet it had nearly destroyed her to see it that way.

  Barren. Decimated. Cold.

  From out of nowhere she could suddenly hear the militaristic voice of her Gran grating against the chalk-board of her memories.

  A formidable woman of five foot seven inches and built like a brick shit-house, Kelly’s Gran was not a woman with whom any sane person would ever willingly trifle. She was calling her name with the same tone of absolute disdain she had always made it so clear she held her granddaughter in.

  It was clear as the day.

  She remembered the beating she had received that night for running away from the hospital.

  Well, they hadn’t specified where she could and couldn’t go. They had said she was allowed out. Stretch her legs. Not her fault that they didn’t clarify!

  You are so selfish, her Gran had informed her between beatings, the wooden spoon catching her thigh and her calves as she had tried — unsuccessfully — to run, Do you have any idea how difficult this is for me? I don’t have the time to organise this funeral and work a job and babysit you twenty-four hours a day, you selfish, horrid little brat!

  That had been the moment that Kelly had snapped, lashing out at her Gran though she knew she would eventually pay for it with her pound of battered flesh when the beastly woman finally caught up with her again.

  She had jumped up, catching her Gran off balance and butting her square in the nose; feeling it burst across her father’s mother’s face with a satisfying crunch.

  Try explaining that one to the W-fucking-I!

  I don’t need a fucking babysitter! she had shouted, running as fast as she could out of the prim and proper kitchen, through the ‘perfect family’ portraited hall to heave open the twisted, splintered and decaying front door.

  Then she was away.

  Pulled suddenly, as though she had been abruptly dropped back into her own shoes — her own skin and life, here and now — Kelly trembled as she readjusted to the reality of what was happening.

  She watched a confused and irritated Shona take a step back, her mouth moving though her words were inaudible through the buzzing haze of mixed-up memories that continued to assault Kelly’s senses.

  She hadn’t thought about that day in years. Or any of the days preceding.

  If she was honest, most of her young life was a black-hole. And that in itself scared her.

  Catching hold of Shona’s arm and blinking back to the here and now, Kelly shook her head, trying frantically to speak, but unable to form any words for what felt like an age.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ she said eventually, ‘Shona, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . that wasn’t aimed at you. I’m sorry. It’s all . . . messed up. Please . . .’

  Shona eyed her for a moment, leaving Kelly to wonder whether she would turn her back completely. But she didn’t.

  ‘Let go of my arm.’ she said in a quiet, but commanding tone.

  Kelly did.

  ‘I didn’t mean — ’

  ‘Forget about it.’ It was an order rather than a request and there was no sense of forgiveness in the statement. Just, that it was done. ‘So, you so said there had been casualties. What kind of casualties?’

  Kelly felt a lump in her throat as she recalled the images she had seen on the computer screen. They mixed with the rapidly resurfacing memories, tossing her emotions up and under on a sea of reminiscence that was almost too much for her to bear.

  ‘The mortal kind.’ she whispered, staring out across the ocean that now bobbed them about so freely. ‘People are dead, Shona. Members of the crew; engineers. That doctor. Cunningham. And a girl too.’

  ‘What?’
/>
  ‘I saw them.’ Kelly sobbed, ‘They showed me these paintings that — ’

  ‘Paintings?’ Shona asked, looking confused.

  Kelly nodded. ‘They thought I was involved!’

  ‘Who did? Jon? That woman?’

  ‘Christine, yeah. I suppose they’re just trying to do their job, but . . . how could they think . . . how could she think . . .’

  ‘Kelly, you’re not making any sense.’ Shona said, taking her by the shoulders and forcing her to look her in the eyes. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘They’re not just dead. They’ve been murdered.’

  ‘What? No. That can’t be . . .’ Shona struggled, ‘Murdered?’

  Kelly nodded slowly. ‘They thought I was . . . I don’t know . . . involved or something.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not.’ Kelly said, her azure eyes glistening with moist emotion as Shona continued to stare at her, inquiringly. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Is that why you’re like this, then?’ Shona asked, waving her hand frantically before Kelly’s battered body, ‘That’s not fine, Kelly. That’s far from fine. That’s someone trying to do to you what they did to those other poor souls.’

  ‘But, why?’ said Kelly, a strangled sob catching in her throat, ‘What have I done?’

  Shona shook her head, pulling Kelly into a tight embrace; kissing the top of her head as she rocked her, gently. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you.’

  Kelly smiled through a haze of tears, allowing Shona — after a moment — to hold her face and wipe the tracks from her cheeks.

  ‘I know.’ she whispered, ‘And I’m sorry.’

  Feeling the soft warmth of Shona’s hands still cupping her face, Kelly smiled as the curvaceous coryphée leaned in, pressing her full, plum lips against her own.

  Relaxing back, she gave herself willingly over to the kiss.