by C Bilici
Her mother was an artist and definitely a bit out there. Surely, Stacey thought, she would have mentioned any such tales. Like if great, great grandpa had been bonkers, visited by demons that squeezed themselves out of light fittings. She said so.
“Does it matter?”
“It could. What of you?” She shook her head. “Have you ever been pregnant?”
She felt her face slacken as she inhaled smoke. She knew she didn’t need to answer him for him to read her expression.
“I take it the child did not survive.”
She nodded.
“Miscarriage, or—”
“Or,” she said, terse. She didn’t meet his gaze for a moment, then looked up expecting to see sympathy or revulsion, as she often did whenever she spoke of it, which was rarely. Instead, she saw apathy. He didn’t care either way. It was a fact. A piece in his puzzle.
She liked that better, she decided.
“Was the pregnancy at all odd?”
“Not that I know of.”
“What of the father? Had he any strange experiences that he told you of? Or perhaps his parents?”
She cast him a dubious smirk. “We were teenagers. We felt each other up in the movies, did the horizontal Mambo as often as we could. I didn’t know him that well.” She thought about him, trying to remember anything odd. “Oh, yeah. He did once tell me he saw a ghost and a UFO.” She puffed on the rollie but it had gone out. “Not at the same time, by the way.” She pulled on the smoke again, but it didn’t flare up.
Seeing her efforts, the man took out his lighter, stood from his seat to hand it to her. Once lit, she handed it back and he re-lit his own. He smoked in silent thought before ripping the burning tip off and putting the remains in his cigarette case. He stood with conviction and walked away.
Stacey leapt after him. “Where are you going?”
“To put my sandals on. We need to go see someone.”
“You know where Paul and Jasper are? Did the ghost and UFO story give you a clue?”
“No. It’s poppycock. Most ghosts are simply overactive imaginations, outright fabrication, or Umbra. As for UFO’s…” He shook his head.
“Yeah, coz slime monsters.”
He ignored her. “The first order of business is to find out why you’re a target.”
“The fuck? You said—”
“Ms Trampler.” He probably thought using the title would have more of an impact on her. “The Umbra—the creatures that attacked us and took your friends—traced you from that parking lot by your scent. They killed that girl you met and two her associates.”
“I don’t care if they’re fucking bloodhounds. I just want to find my—”
“You should most definitely care,” he said, voice rising. “Because anyone—”
“What’s your fucking problem? Why are you yelling at me?” she yelled back.
“You, young lady, do not strike me as the type of person—”
“Don’t you fucking young lady me, arsehole!” She stabbed a finger at him.
He threw his hands up and stalked toward the house again, kicking the tilled soil as he passed. “This is why I live alone,” he yelled back at her before walking away, shaking his head and muttering to himself.
“Fuck you, mate. I never get any complaints from the kids at work. They think I’m an awesome teacher, and a ray of fucking sunshine.” She sucked on her smoke angrily, but it had gone out again.
Opening a fly-screen door on an enclosed patio, he turned to her. “I’m certain that’s because they, unlike you, have a modicum of manners and maturity.” He disappeared from sight as he entered.
With a flick of her fingers, she sent the cigarette at the man. It fluttered to the ground.
“Fucking wanker,” she muttered. If it wasn’t for the fact that she needed him to find Paul and Jasper—
Thinking of them, she dropped to the stump, calmed by sadness. If she understood him right, it was her fault that they’d been taken. Maybe even why Hayley had been killed. Then they’d tracked her to their flat.
It was her fault.
The screen door crashed open startling her. The man glared at her, alarm etched into the lines of his face.
“Did you say children?”
CHAPTER FIVE
HE TOLD HER to close her eyes tight, then she felt that strange falling sensation again. This time, however, she was conscious and felt a following reversal, as if they’d flipped upside down and righted again, though the feeling was more a sensation in her brain and pit of her stomach than physical.
“Stand here. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. And do not open your eyes.”
“Sure. Hey, while I’m at it, why don’t I just stop breathing?”
There was no response. She’d felt a slight pressure moments before where he’d been speaking from and knew that he’d left in that same dizzying way. It hurt her head to think about it. The revelation that everything from the previous night was true helped the headache along, beating it repeatedly with a baseball bat of truth.
The plan was to get her car and get to her work so he could feel it out, whatever that meant. When she’d ask why he didn’t just teleport them there, all he’d said was he’d never been there, so they had to drive. Before they could do that, he’d said, he needed to make sure that there were no bugs in her car.
“Why would these demon things need bugs? They come and go like you. They could just eavesdrop.”
“They’re not demons, and they are not like me. And I’m talking about literal bugs. Insects. Not the electronic variety.”
He hadn’t further elaborated, but the image of the giant black roaches in the stairwell at her block of flats flashed in her vision.
Muscles tense, she stood where he'd left her, fighting the urge to open her eyes. It was brightly lit, wherever she was. The light filtering through her eyelids turned her vision red-pink. One arm was across her body, hand squeezing the opposite arm. Her leg started a dance that increased in ferocity.
Something was very wrong with this place.
The air didn’t smell and there wasn’t a single noise. It wasn’t just that there was no added smell and sound, it was that there was an absolute lack of both, apart from what came from her own body. It sounded crazy, but it didn’t even smell or feel like air. Heart rate drumming in her ears and her skin, her own sweat and perfume filled her nostrils, overpowering her senses. Her foot danced and her nails dug into skin.
A sensation hit her like a gut punch and her brain tingled as a looming mass seemed to rise above her that wasn’t there a moment ago, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of being watched and wanting to escape.
A groan and creaked thundered in her ears. Stacey took a step back. Her eyelids cracked.
A hand fell on her shoulder and turned her about face just as her eyes saw more than stark white light, and then fell upside down and inside out. The stench of pollen, grass and burnt fuel filled the vacuum in her nostrils and a cacophony of traffic, air movement and birds assaulted her eardrums.
Overwhelmed, Stacey fell to her knees. The stink of her vomit joined the other smells.
When the vomiting passed, she was on all fours. Gravel stung her hands and knees. Her stomach ached from retching. She looked up, saw the man standing beside her car.
“What the fuck was that?” Stacey said with an acrid croak.
“We have to move. The place is crawling with bugs. I managed to clean your car.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic. Any more good news?” She stood, dusting herself off as the man bent down to retrieve the spare key she’d told him was in a magnetic box under the wheel arch. She didn’t bother to ask him how he’d cleaned her car without getting in it. Too bad he hadn’t cleaned out the take-away bags full of wrappers, cups and spent cigarettes from the back seat, she thought as she looked into the vehicle.
“You can’t come back here until it’s safe. That may be never.”
“I said good news.”
“Do no
t send anyone in your stead, either. They have your scent now, for want of a better word, and are watching your apartment. Anyone that goes there will be a target for some time.” He handed her the key.
“Oh good. My dangerous pong is rubbing off on others. Brilliant.” The car unlocked with the press of a button and they climbed in.
The clock glowed 10:43. Just how long had she been out? When she’d passed out it was evening, then awoken in daylight. There were probably several messages from work, not that she could go inside her flat to get her phone according to this guy. Paul and Jasper’s phones probably had a few on her behalf as her emergency contacts as well.
She felt a stab in her chest as she pictured their faces. She couldn’t think about them now. If the kids were in danger that had to be priority one.
“I have to call in to work,” she said after a while, voice flat.
“That’s not a bad idea. If there is nothing untoward we shouldn’t risk exposing them any further. Pull in there,” he said, pointing at a service station. “I have to use the bathroom and get a drink.”
“Really? Now?” She frowned at him but he gave her a stone-faced stare.
“Do you have any money?”
“What, you didn’t get enough change for a coke busking?”
“Do I look like a vagrant to you?”
“If it quacks like a fucking duck—”
“I don’t have cash. Do you have any or—”
“What happened to do I look like a vagrant?” she said, imitating his accent. She pointed at the glove box with a shake of her head when he ignored her.
Ignoring her back, he opened the compartment and snatched out a plastic zip lock baggy full of coins and a few notes. He pocketed the baggie.
“There goes my emergency smoke fund.”
The car bumped up the drive to the service station and Stacey parked in front of the air hose. She jumped out and fast-walked through the pumps, the man close behind her. Cool air and light radio music slapped her in the face as the glass doors slid apart.
The man went to the fridges at the back and looked over the flavoured waters.
“You’re getting a drink before going to the toilet?” Stacey shook her head again as she watched him pick through the brightly coloured bottles. She didn’t know anyone that drank that crap or why anyone even would. She hoped he at least washed his hands before getting back into her car.
At the counter, Stacey argued with the attendant who refused to let her use the store phone.
“Sorry, love. Rules are rules,” the clerk said. “You’ll have to use a pay phone.”
“Don’t call me love, mate. And where am I supposed to find a pay—”
He pointed across the road at a booth. She glared at him before stomping to the fridges. The man glared at her as she snatched the bag of money from his hand. It gave a dull jingle as she scooped out a handful of coin. The bag slapped it his outstretched hand.
“See you back in the car,” she said gruffly.
She started into a jog as soon as she was out the doors. Stacey couldn’t remember the last time she’d jogged willingly. Jasper, ever the fitness freak, would be proud.
Jumping the gutter, she rounded into the old doorless booth and her nose wrinkled. She could have done without the stink of piss, but she was thankful the thing seemed to be in working order. Almost every inch of it and the booth was scratched and painted with the wild markings. Out of breath, she snatched up the receiver and dropped in coins when she heard the dial tone. The number tapped out, she swept the hair plastered to her face back and tried to control her breathing. She swore she would get in shape and lose some weight if she lived through this.
One never knew when they would be attacked by demons, she thought to herself with a shake of her head.
After ringing for some time, somebody answered and she recognised the voice as one of the owners. Her voice sounded distraught.
“Are you OK, Stacey? You’re never late and you never don’t call. We were worried sick.”
“Yeah, sorry. There was… My boyfriend and housemate, they… They’re missing. I… I was at the police station all night.” At least it was only a half lie.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry to hear that. Take as much time as you need, hun.”
“Yeah, thanks. I might need do that actually. Maybe a week?” The woman gave an approving hum. Mind racing for a plausible story, she decided to simply ask if anything weird had happened. “Listen, I—”
“Stacey. Don’t freak out, but—”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Someone broke in last night. Well, I say broke in, but none of the doors or windows... Anyway. They messed your desk up and your laptop might be broken.” The woman trailed off. “At first I thought maybe— But do you… Do you think it could have been them?” the woman asked, hesitant.
“Them?” Stacey asked, frowning. She couldn’t mean the creatures.
“Your boyfriend and that girl.”
Stacey couldn’t help smiling. The woman was calling Jasper that girl, as if she were the town slut who’d stolen her man. Bless her. If she only knew.
“I don’t think so. Even if— Well, that laptop isn’t exactly state of the art.” She played up the drama, wanting to get the woman on to more important things.
The woman hummed, seemed unsure. “Well, the police certainly didn’t find anything. All the fingerprints were yours, other staff, or the kids. And, as if that wasn’t excitement enough, we have a huge wasp nest under the eaves. Can you believe it?”
“Wow. No way.” Stacey tried to make it sound like she was surprised and interested. Her heart pounded.
Bugs.
“Yeah. The kids are all going nuts over it. Strangest thing. Popped up overnight. Never seen anything like it. And it’s this weird black, purple—”
“Yeah. That is weird. Listen. I’ll be there soon, okay. Don’t let the kids outside.” She was about to hang up.
“No way! But you don’t need to come, hun. You take your time. The exterminators should be here soon anyway and they’ll—”
The receiver bounced from its cradle as she slammed it down and swung from its corrugated noose.
Stacey jumped in the car. The man was waiting with two very big bottles of pink energy water at his feet in a plastic bag. The car smelled heavily of berries.
The car careened out of the service station. Something crunched as it hit the asphalt. A horn blared and tyres screeched as she cut someone off and screamed through a yellow light that was turning red.
“What the hell are you doing?” The man beside her gripped the handhold above his head for dear life.
“There was a break-in. Someone messed up my desk. And there’s a black wasps nest outside the building. Exterminator will be there soon.”
The man’s face paled. “Drive faster.”
* * *
Stacey didn’t bother to find a parking spot, blocking two cars in the drive. There was no exterminator van, and she hoped they were still in time. The man followed Stacey at a brisk pace, plastic bag crinkling in hand.
“What are you bringing your lolly water for?” She pulled the safety latch of tall pool style gate up and pushed it in. opening the gate that led into the centre. “Never mind. Just let me handle this and do all the talking, OK? These are my people and kids.” She punched a code on a pad but the glass front doors and turned back. “You’ll just scare them with your weirdness.” The door clicked open as she yanked it.
A figure to one side confronted her.
“You’re late.”
“Hey…” She twisted her face up, eyes cast skyward as she pretended to think. “You.” The child giggled, face becoming slack as the figure behind her walked in. “Yeah. Busted. I’m late.” She made a face and shrugged. “Should you be out here?” The girl pointed at the toilets. “That’s the big people’s toilet. Are you supposed to be there?”
The girl shook her head. “I like the big ones.”
“Co
me on. Go use the little loos in your room.” She ushered the girl on with a gentle push and turned about face and stalked toward another room.
“You have a good rapport with children,” the man said.
“Takes one to know one,” Stacey muttered.
“Are you comparing yourself to a child?”
“Actually, I was talking about you.”
The man’s smile slipped from his face. “I was paying you a compliment.”
Stacey turned to walk backwards, leaning her head toward him. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that if you want to get into my panties.” She turned before he could respond.
A figure in a kitchenette saw them and stopped peeling fruit to give a wave. “Hey, Stacey.” Justin wiped his hands on a tea towel and stepped to the doorway. He gave the man a wary look up and down. “You okay?”
“Justin, hey. Yeah.” She saw him still eyeing off her weird vagrant. “He’s cool. He’s with me. Hey, do you know what’s going on? Have these exterminators come?”
“Not yet. Typical. The news of the day, though, has been focused on you.” Justin looked her guest up and down again. “I didn’t expect you to bring show and tell. If you thought Janice wouldn’t shut up about Paul and Jasper before… She has this crazy conspiracy theory they hooked up and ran off to Brazil or something. Messed up your desk. Shows how much she knows, right?” Justin looked at Stacey now with a conspiratorial grin.
“Hah, yeah. Where is Janice, by the way?”
“She’s in your room, taking care of your kids. You sure you’re okay? Was Janice telling the truth when she said they were missing?”
“Justin, sorry. I don’t have time right now. I’ll fill you in later, OK?” Stacey held out her hand to fist bump him, pinkie and first finger extended.
Justin returned her metal-fist-bump, having been forced by Tammy to learn it the previous night. “Yeah. No worries. You do what you gotta do.”
Dread injected into Stacey’s chest as she opened the door to her room.
It evaporated for the most part as she saw everything in order. Or as much order as it usually was. Crouched next to a computer with an over-sized, multi-coloured keyboard was a middle-aged blond woman.
