Dayna eyed him coldly.
‘At least tell me where you’re up to, Dayna!’ he snapped.
‘I told you already: I’m near the end.’
‘Then you need a team. We agreed on this.’
Dayna seemed to consider this.
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you when I’m ready.’
‘Dayna, I need Kayn back on the e-talk team. You can’t just take the best as and when you please.’
‘You know damn well my work is more important than the e-talk software!’
Hopper looked at her, unconvinced.
‘You have used a lot of company time and resources, Dayna. And there are no results to justify you having these privileges any longer. Even you cannot live off Seek’s success for ever.’
Hopper pursed his lips tightly. He had played his ace.
‘You fucking me on your desk, your chair and your car for three months gives me that privilege, mister. Unless you’re ready for a divorce, a law suit for gross misconduct and a new job sweeping floors.’
Check.
Hopper reeled back in his chair.
‘Fuck you!’ he spat, standing up. ‘We’ve been over this before, Dayna! You manipulating bitch! How much longer do I have to put up with this shit before you force me to shut you up?’
He eyed her with venom in his stare.
‘A card,’ Dayna smiled thinly, pulling out the transparent device from her pocket, flashing orange.
Hopper looked at her in disbelief.
Check Mate.
‘You’re recording this?’
Dayna smiled.
‘The whole thing is streaming to my server at home. And that says I get a little longer.’
She waited, staring at him.
Hopper tried on a few expressions to mask his real feelings: dumbstruck, disgusted and hurt. But it was pointless wearing a face other than his own in front of Dayna, and he knew it. She knew he was thinking fast.
His brow creased and his expression became dark and hateful.
‘How much longer?’ he rasped between clenched teeth.
Dayna considered this.
‘Not long now.’
‘And then?’ he asked.
‘You get the recording. And the new browser.’
‘And you?’
Dayna stared at him, trying to deduce what he meant.
‘What do you mean?’
‘What will your new demands be, when this is over?’ he asked bitterly.
For a mere moment, Dayna was unable to meet his stare. She cursed her treacherous body language, knowing that Hopper had picked up on it right away.
Hopper sat back in his seat, openly considering her reaction, much to her dismay. He wondered what exactly it was that he had hit upon, and how best to exploit that frail crack in her armour. Maybe she did not hold as many aces as she was pretending to.
‘We’ll see,’ he said, studying her.
Back in the white corridor beyond the closed door, out of Hopper’s site, Dayna let out the air in her lungs and gasped for breath, clutching at her chest. She leaned against the cold white wall, looking down the empty corridor to make sure nobody was watching her.
‘Shit,’ she cursed, clenching her jaw, pushing herself away from the wall and making her way back unsteadily toward the elevator at the far end of the corridor. Once inside, she hit her floor number and, when the car began descending, hit the emergency stop button, halting the car between floors. Then she slid down, slowly, with her back against the wall, until she was sitting on the cold metal floor. The pain in her chest grew sharp, like a knife inside her, arching her back and twisting her shoulder blades. Dayna closed her eyes and concentrated on settling her breathing down. Her heart beat fast. She rocked back and forth, slamming her back gently against the elevator wall.
Not now, not now, not now.
Slowly, the nausea passed and the pain subsided, turned into a dull ache, leaving her weak. A thin film of sweat had built up over her forehead and on her back, which now felt damp and cold.
When she had enough strength to do so, she stood up and hit the ground floor button, and waited for the ground to reach her.
27
The Near Future
Dayna sped home in her replica classic Porsche 911 Carrera. Like all cars today, it had been fitted with solar to comply with regulations, as well as a fibreglass outer shell, so the ‘classic’ was merely a reference to the body shape.
Most people had a self-drive model these days. It wasn’t optional: only high earners, or the heavily indebted, drove themselves. At SunCorpSoft, most of the top tier programmers were able to afford themselves a replica classic, and Dayna was at the top of that league.
She weaved silently in and out of e-vans and fast food cabs, gritting her teeth and pumping the accelerator as if a pack of demons were chasing after her soul. Her temples felt stretched, her headache sharp. She wondered how many hours she had gone without sleep this week, how many ‘keep-me-ups’ she had popped, how many caffeine fixes. I’ll sleep when I’m dead, she thought grimly.
She searched her brain for today’s date. It was sometime near Christmas. Maybe it was Christmas already. To her, every day was the same day. Dates existed for planning events, and the only event she was waiting for was death.
Friday-night-people were out on the streets, some dressed for the weather, others for the dance floor. Fat Santas hung outside the mall-entrance, ho-ho-hoing those people who ventured past them, enticing them to part with their cash points. The mall was huge, housing cinemas, VR parlours, theme parks and more - every major entertainment brand had a place here. The shopping precinct within the mall was small, catering for those few who still shopped in the real world. Dayna wondered how they found the time to do it, and why they did it at all.
Lights flashed intermittently, hung high up on trees, wrapped around street signs, pulsing everywhere, illuminating the night sky. She imagined herself to be a cell inside her own body, racing along a devastated nervous system, witnessing the horrible growth of the virus that slowly conquered the organism. Lights everywhere became cells, racing with her, hurtling toward death. In front of her a cell, pulsing with green life, fell to the virus, turning an angry red, becoming the enemy.
She hurtled toward the angry red light.
Dayna hit the brakes suddenly, holding her breath, her jaw clenched. The Porsche’s wheels locked, sending the car into a long skid, headed straight toward the intersection, toward the red light. The car continued to skid and Dayna realised the road was moist with rain.
Take your foot off the brake, and then pump it, on and off. Take your foot off the brake!
But Dayna’s legs seemed to have locked, like the Porsche’s wheels, and all she could do was sit and watch inside the spinning car like a crash dummy.
The Porsche slid past the red traffic lights and ploughed into the middle of the intersection, where it finally came to a halt, white smoke billowing from its tyres.
Waiting for the hit, she clenched her jaw and tightened her muscles.
Relax your body. Relax your muscles! Don’t tense, for God’s sake!
She was gripping the steering wheel like a vice, her muscles so taught they ached.
But the fatal hit never came.
There was no traffic coming through the intersection.
The smoke was still rising around her, rolling gently like miniature clouds, dispersing in the cold air.
Shakily, she looked in her rear view mirror and saw some of the e-vans drawing up to the intersection. She felt her blood flowing back into her arms and legs, and managed to unclench her jaw. A warm, salty taste in her mouth turned into a treacle of blood, spilling from the corner of her mouth. Her tongue throbbed.
The e-vans drew up behind her and stopped on the white line, preventing her from reversing back behind the line.
‘Stupid bastards!’ she spat at the rear view mirror, but she knew there were no drivers inside those vans.
Sh
e glared out of her window at the fake Santas and the children milling around them like blind mice around clumps of bad cheese. They all stared back at her.
The lights turned amber and Dayna floored the pedal, felt the wheels spin beneath her and the back of the Porsche sliding to the right as she cleared the intersection, beating the green light. She cursed, taking her foot of the accelerator, breathing a sigh of relief when the tyres finally caught and the car straightened. The e-vans were falling far behind in the mirror once again, still pulling away from the lights.
When she had put enough distance between her and the rest of the world, she eased her speed and concentrated on handling the wet road. By then, her nerves had steadied a little.
She wondered how long it had rained for. Her work in the lab kept her isolated from the world outside. Suddenly, the thought of having missed the rain saddened her deeply and inexplicably. She thought of Kayn, lying on the chair, and tried to think of something else. She sighed, massaging her left temple with one hand. I’m working too hard, she thought. I only wish I could stop.
She reached Uptown. Turning off the main road, Dayna pulled into a wide street flanked by high, neatly trimmed privets. Beyond the privets and the gravelled drives lay deep-set, plush houses, tall and wide, towering above acres of landscaped gardens.
She felt a migraine coming on.
She drove slowly along the deserted road.
Her forearms and shoulders began to ache, feeling tense. Great, she thought, remembering the intersection.
At the bottom of the road, she reached her home. She had purchased the property less than fifteen months ago, using some of the cash points she had made from Seek. Awakened, the security lights blinked on, illuminating the driveway. She did not bother to park the Porsche in the garage – she never did. At the door, she pressed her thumb to the security pad on the wall and the house opened up like an oyster. Dayna stepped in and heard the familiar beep of the burglar alarm disabling itself, informed by the door panel.
Good evening Dayna, the voice system greeted her.
The heat inside was tropical. Dayna pulled off her leather jacket and eased off her boots. Her legs were aching. She walked through into the hall and on to the bathroom.
‘Full bath, house,’ she said, and watched the tub begin to fill with water gauged to her preferred temperature.She pulled off her trousers and T-shirt, wincing at the pain in her shoulders. Looking inside the bathroom cabinet, she grabbed every bottle of soothing oil she could find and, unscrewing the tops, squeezed the thick liquids over the tub.
She hobbled back into the living room, where, after another voice command, her favourite music began pouring through the sound system like warm lava. The percolator filled the house with the scent of her favourite coffee and the light dimmed to a pleasing setting.
Everything was perfect. Everything except for her cursed life and the way she felt.
She fished a protein snack out of the refrigerator and picked her coffee up on the way back to the bathroom, stopping once at the console in the living room to check her new, flashing email.
Mail from Doctor Milner.
Delete.
Mail from herself: an array of to-do’s for the following day.
Skip.
A long queue of Christmas greetings and discount coupons from brands she recognised and others she had forgotten.
Delete, delete, delete.
Mail from Kayn.
Her heart missed a beat.
It was dated 21st December. 22:00 hours.
Dayna looked at the date panel on her screen.
That was today. Less than an hour ago.
Despite the heat, she felt suddenly cold.
Kayn was in the lab, should be in the lab. On the hydro-chair.
Dead.
Dayna’s mind raced through a myriad of possibilities, each as unlikely as the next. Had Hopper discovered the body? Was the email a trap?
Dayna touched the screen and watched the envelope unravel into a complicated pattern, spelling out a Christmas wish in a simple 3D format.
She stared at the screen, pouring over every little detail of the e-card, looking for a hidden clue.
It really was a Christmas e-card, and nothing else.
Kayn had obviously prepared this message some time ago and scheduled it for today – the company’s official last day before the festive holidays.
She relaxed, somewhat.
But why would he send her a Christmas wish? He knew she hated the whole thing. Had he meant it as a joke? His schedule had always been as tight as her own, and he had also stayed away from big events.
A joke it was then.
A joke from the body of Kayn.
Sipping her black coffee, Dayna returned to the bathroom, where she stepped out of her panties and into the tub, sending oily ripples across the scented surface.
The water was perfect. The oils began to soak into her skin straight away, soothing her aching muscles.
What to do about Kayn? She wondered, unable to relax in the steamy water.
Should she download Kayn back into his body?
Hmm. Perhaps one day she would know how to.
Kayn, Kayn, Kayn.
Kayn the pain. Kayn the lame. Tame the Kayn.
Who else could have sent the e-card?
The message had Kayn’s own digital signature. It had come from his personal inbox at SunCorpSoft. Nobody else had access to it. Except for Hopper, of course.
Dayna decided the bath was not helping her relax. She stood up, wearily, and stepped on to a fluffy towel, drying herself on the wall drier.
Finishing her coffee, she pulled her bathrobe on, looking at herself in the full-length mirror. She still looked young without the aid of technology: her body was trim and athletic, her breasts full. But her face was drawn with tiredness, and it was beginning to show. She tied her bathrobe and stepped closer to the mirror, looking into her cold, grey eyes. Dark rings rimmed them, set above puffy bags. Dayna stepped back from the mirror, touching her cheek tentatively, as if it might crumble into dust. Suddenly she looked twenty years older than she had a minute ago.
Her body sagged. She thought of lying down on the carpet and going to sleep there and then. The ache in her limbs was returning, reminding her of the incident in the junction.
At least the pain in her head had gone.
She pulled herself away from the mirror and walked slowly to the kitchen. There, she opened the window to let some fresh air in and stood listening to the stream of traffic on the main road beyond the houses, distant and constant, like white noise. In the warm months, the full trees cushioned the sounds of the outside world.
Dayna felt cold all of a sudden. She reached over and closed the window.
What about Kayn the pain?
It was almost midnight. Dayna stepped into the living room, limping slightly, wincing at the ache in her legs. She sat heavily on the settee, trying to organise her thoughts.
The huge console in the corner was in power-down mode. The dull throbbing had returned.
What about Kayn?
Feeling drowsy, she struggled out of her seat and took herself to the master bedroom, wondering if she would wake up in the morning stiff as a board.
The room was impeccable. She hardly used it. She slept mostly on her comfy-chair, back in the lab.
Near Kayn.
She undid her belt and let the gown fall off her on to the floor.
Stupid, she thought and bent down to pick it up. She muttered to herself as she walked back to the door, then hung her gown on the hook. Maybe she was more like her mother than she cared to admit to herself.
When she turned back to face the bed, she was not expecting a man dressed in dark sports clothes to be standing there, looking straight at her.
He rushed at her in a blur of motion and, before she could think, knocked her clean off her feet. Her stomach lurched as if a rock had pounded it, the wind knocked out of her. As she tried to breathe, she felt her ach
ing body being lifted and slammed back against the wall. She almost passed out, but a sudden rush of adrenaline cleared her mind and brought her back to the moment. She realised she was hovering two inches from the floor, held aloft by two strong arms.
The man muttered something unintelligible.
Dayna clutched her stomach with both hands and tried to draw her knees up protectively, but she had no strength left in her.
‘The memory card,’ the man said.
Dayna gasped, hot tears of shame and hurt spilling down her cheeks.
‘The card!’ the man repeated, sinking his fists into her flesh painfully.
The bastard Hopper. He wanted the recording of their conversation. The son-of-a-bitch had fallen for her bluff!
‘The card!’ the man shouted again, agitated. He wedged his forearm up under her chin to keep her aloft. His arms were getting tired.
He stared at her, his face contorted, and she saw that his own eyes were wide with fear, his nostrils flaring, his heart beating fast.
‘Gimme the fucking card or I’ll kill you, bitch!’
Dayna winced in pain.
‘The bathroom,’ she gasped. ‘In my trouser pocket.’
The man studied her for a long time, his brow creased. He either did not comprehend what she was telling him, or did not trust her. Whichever it was, he chose that instant to let her go.
Dayna collapsed in a heap on the floor at the foot of the bed, gasping for breath. She began to panic, desperate to draw enough air to sustain her until the next breath, feeling as if she was inside a plastic bag, trapped, trying to surface. The thought was too much for her: her eyes closed and the darkness rushed in.
When she opened her eyes, she was alone in the house, naked on the floor. She thought for an agonising second that she might have been raped, but realised quickly that she hadn’t. Her face flushed with shame. She struggled to lift herself up, feeling a rush of tears clouding her vision.
She could not call the police. Not until she had thought of what to do with Kayn’s body. Besides, reporting the matter would get her referred to her GP, Doctor Milner, whom she wanted to avoid at all costs.
The Man Who Vanishes_a gripping horror thriller spanning 3 timelines_One Man. Everywhere. Page 21
