by Ian Williams
“You might want to stand back a little,” Anthony said.
Why she had to do so was a disturbing mystery to her. What was the device going to do? Her answer came as soon as it sprang to life. The first thing that hit her was the smell of singed clothing, joined shortly after by the noise of something sizzling. Then, on closer inspection, she saw a small puff of smoke rise up from the device. The second smell told her straight away exactly what had been burning.
“Honestly Phoenix, step back,” Anthony reiterated. “He’s not going to like this.”
Elliot had been completely unresponsive for so long that she had forgotten what his pain sounded like. It was a sudden and horribly violent reminder, the moment his eyes snapped open. He groaned in agony and stared straight at her with a look akin to an injured and helpless animal being roasted alive. Seconds later it had become too much to handle and he let out a gut wrenching scream, followed by a shrill outpouring of air as he tried desperately to take the pain.
“What the hell is it doing to him?” Phoenix asked. She felt sorry for the man as he pleaded with her through his huge and shining eyes. His lips trembled and dribbled in equal measures.
“It’s attaching itself to him. Once the plastic edging of this thing has melted onto his chest it will be difficult to remove without causing more harm, at least for a few days anyway.” Anthony beamed excitement. The prospect of such an event occurring made him happy. He smiled to Phoenix.
“Why? Isn’t this just cruel? Why not kill him and get it over with?”
Elliot dropped his head and began to cry almost silently, with his chin pressed against the metal neck-brace still attached.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Anthony said, bringing Elliot’s head back up again. “It’s OK, Elliot. This won’t kill you unless you don’t do as you’re told. I have a job for you my friend and this will guarantee it gets done. Please, pull yourself together. You’ll be home soon, I promise.” He then slapped Elliot playfully on the cheek as he returned to an upright position. “Come with me,” he said to Phoenix.
She struggled to look away from the device that now hung silently from Elliot’s chest. The sight of the two devices combined made the scene appear more like a medieval torture than a state-of-the-art one. Whatever the newest addition had been doing, it had now finished and was sitting idly by with a small red light flashing in the centre of its warning message. When she felt a hand usher her toward the door she finally looked away.
Back outside the room, Anthony pulled the door to, leaving only a slither of a gap. In the background they could hear Elliot whimpering like a lost child.
“What are you going to do with him now then?” Phoenix asked.
“I need you to take him home.”
She could not answer, as no words come to mind to ask what he was talking about. Telling Elliot that he would soon be home had sounded like the kind of promise Anthony made to those he was about to have killed, not the real option. Sending him home was unimaginable to her. What would it achieve, other than risking them and their plan?
“I know that sounds odd,” Anthony began after seeing her blank face in response. “I told you I don’t have the spare man power for anything at the moment. These test runs need to happen without a hitch. I can’t have people running around and causing trouble. That isn’t to say I’m giving up on finding The Sentient Collector. Quite the opposite in fact.”
“Why send him home then?”
“So he can find The Sentient Collector for us. The device I just put on him is set to go off in twenty four hours from now. At which point the telescopic spikes contained within will run him through like an army of skewers.” Before Phoenix could ask another question, Anthony raised his hand and then continued. “Unless he can bring me the location of The Sentient Collector.”
“That’s what it does? Jesus, Anthony, that’s cold.”
“If it gets the job done, then I couldn’t give a shit if it’s absolute zero.” After that Anthony began to walk away, toward the back rooms of the building – no doubt for a rest after hours spent hurting someone else. He passed the orange ray of sunlight that flowed down from the ceiling windows and then stopped to speak to Phoenix one last time. “Take our friend home, please. He should be able to walk, but I wouldn’t bet on him being particularly fast. If he refuses, explain how the device sticking out of him works.” He then slowly faded behind the veil of early morning sunlight until he vanished completely.
She had no idea how she was supposed to get a fully grown man out of their building and into a Mag-Lev car without someone seeing, let alone dropping him off at his home. The best she could come up with was to load him into a car by himself and then set its destination manually. But then she had no record of his address.
“What the hell am I going to do with you, you big lump,” she said, peeking through the tiny gap between the door. She could see Elliot’s feet twitching nervously back and forth, in time with his feeble sobbing.
The can of nano-circuitry spray that was still in her bag, she realised, would provide the answers by allowing her to trick the Simova network into thinking she was Elliot. Once she had coated a spare wrist screen – left lying around for this very situation – with a layer of polymer, she entered the room and forced Elliot’s hand on the screen. While he continued to plead with her, she gained control of his entire life. She could now live like she were Elliot. For now her intentions stopped at finding his personal details.
After finding an address, she placed the wrist screen against Elliot’s arm and watched as it automatically snapped around it. As long as she stayed within a certain distance she could control it from her own device. Her plan was now to join him in a Mag-lev car until they arrived at the stop, where she would then leave him. After that she would decide whether to send a message to Elliot’s wife, Ruth, or leave him to get on with things himself.
The perfect plan, except for one problem: How did Anthony know Elliot would not just head to the nearest police station? She guessed he must have put something in place to stop this happening. He often only told her half of the plan, and as long as she did as told, she never heard the rest. This was another of those instances and the other half of the details had disappeared into a back room for a nap.
She studied the back of the neck-brace and found the latch that held the two halves tightly clamped around Elliot’s throat. After removing it she carelessly tossed the pieces to the side of the room; she had no wish to understand it at all. The hand restraints were next and required much less delicacy to untie.
Once his hands were free she swiftly moved away so there was no chance of him attacking. He made no attempt at all. He had no energy available. Anthony had broken him entirely and for now he could only play along. She still knew well enough to keep him under suspicion of snapping at any moment. After all, he was substantially bigger than her.
Watching him struggle to his feet, she began to pity him and felt the urge to offer a supportive arm. “Lean on me,” she said, mindful of not allowing him the opportunity to swing a fist into her.
“Thanks,” Elliot replied. He inadvertently whistled through a gap in his teeth that possibly had not been there hours earlier. A cough then followed that temporarily straightened his back out. Even after he returned to his previously hunched over position, he was still a full foot taller than her.
“For your sake I hope you do what Anthony wants, otherwise you won’t live past twenty four hours from now. He wants you to do something for him. If you do it then this thing will be taken off you,” she said with a tap of the device stuck to his chest.
“What is it?” Elliott asked.
Whether he meant the device or what Anthony wanted him to do, she was unsure. She decided to answer what she thought he asked. “Find The Sentient Collector and you’ll live. Don’t, then you’re dead. Got it?”
Elliot nodded as she led him to the front door. Again she was surprised by the lack of any movement within the building. Everyone was away somew
here and their noises were away with them. It left her feeling uneasy with how things were changing so fast. Once finished with Elliot she hoped she would be among them all again, especially her still missing brothers.
She pushed the door open with a swift kick of her boot. It swung away faster than she expected and slammed against the wall. Outside the world was awash with bright, rainbow colours as sunlight reflected off the roofs and windows of nearby buildings. They were stepping into a world of risk, looking as they did.
“Wait,” she said. “Put this on.” She unbuttoned her dark green duffle coat and threw it across Elliot’s back. The coat being much too small for him meant putting his arms in the sleeves was pointless. It still did what she wanted, it hid Elliot’s bloodied clothing and the unwieldy device protruding from his chest.
Getting him home was now her only concern.
* * *
The front door recognised Ruth and Graham, and opened with a beep of the security system. Beyond the hall came the echoed clicks and bleeps of various appliances switching on, ready to predict whether tea or perhaps some toast would be required this morning. Little did the Simova home management system know they had little interest in either.
Ruth stepped in first, then hesitated once inside. The apartment was far quieter than it should normally have been, mainly due to the lack of Elliot’s formidable presence. She looked to Graham standing behind her. He nodded for her to continue in return, after having taken her glance back as an unspoken request for encouragement.
“I’m here, go ahead,” he said.
She turned back and walked slowly ahead. When she stopped once more, but did not turn to him, he was sure she had become tearful and was trying to hide it from him again. He let her continue at her own pace and left any conversation hanging, ready to be picked up at a later time. In the lounge she appeared to gain confidence and started to speed up with each step. What she was afraid of eluded Graham. Elliot was not there, but then neither was anyone else.
“It’s so quiet,” Ruth finally said.
Graham joined her in searching the room for anything amiss, just in case Elliot had returned home during the night. When they realised nothing had moved at all, they returned to doing what they had intended in the first place.
“I’ll grab some things, then we can go.”
“Fine,” Graham said. “You know you’re welcome to stay with me, Jane and the little monkey for as long as you need.”
Ruth smiled back at him before she quickly disappeared into her bedroom, lest she burst into tears right there and then.
The wall screen activated the moment he saw it. As his preferences dictated, the TV automatically turned to the news station – Graham’s usual watch at this time of the morning. He watched as the weather report stated the blindingly obvious again: Sunny intervals all day. This time of year usually was, seeing as Simova had been sending up cloud dispersing aerosols for the past few weeks. Uninterrupted heat was needed from the sun until the end of September, at which point they would send up rain seeding particles whenever needed. This all kept the farming towers at full efficiency, he reminded himself.
The daydream faded as soon as Ruth called from the bedroom. He had become totally lost in the most mundane subject he could find, a clear sign that he was struggling to cope with what he currently faced. He moved quickly into the next room and found his sister hitting a pile of her clothes roughly into a bag. “Here, let me do it,” he said.
She turned and sat heavily on the mattress. It bounced her a few times from the force she unintentionally imparted, before settling. She sobbed with her head drooped, which caused her tears to drop onto her black trousers. “I can’t do it,” she said.
“Do what?” Graham asked with a handful of her clothes. He tucked them in as best as he could, but the bag just was not big enough to take them all. He continued anyway, this time with his lump like fists.
“I can’t pretend nothing has happened. My husband is missing and no-one is doing anything about it.”
“We’re just here to get you some clothes, that’s all. If there was something we could do, we’d be doing it. We’ve reported him missing now, the police will be looking for him soon.”
“Will they? You heard them, they couldn’t find any evidence of a crime at all.”
He could hardly argue with that. The reaction from the police had suggested Elliot’s name had simply been added to a list of many other missing people. They were yet to begin searching for him, and for the girl with the flame red hair Graham had seen taking him in the first place.
After the bag had been filled he swung it over his back and gripped the handles with his left hand up against his shoulder. Like this the handle dug into his fingers and stretched them back until he could see the skin had turned almost white. The bag was much heavier than he expected. “What the hell’s in here?” he asked, placing the bag back down on the bed.
“It’s nothing, just some things.”
Graham unzipped the bag and began to push the clothes aside.
“Stop, I said it’s nothing.” Ruth stood and put her arm across the opened bag, before pushing him away.
“What’s in there, Ruth?”
“Nothing.”
“Ruth?”
She looked at the contents of her bag and became silent. Moving one piece of clothing aside, she found what Graham had not seen her place inside and stared, unblinkingly, at it. After a few seconds she stepped to the side and placed her hands on her waist in a disappointed manner.
With the bag left unguarded now, he leaned in to see the item hidden inside. He was shocked to see the shining black casing of a Taser stick, just like the police used as their back up weapon. “Where on Earth did you get that from?”
“It’s Elliot’s. He always told me to take it with me, but I never usually do.”
“What were you planning on doing with it then?”
“Protecting myself. What if the people who have Elliot want me too?”
The thought had not entered Graham’s head that she could be in danger as well. He felt a sense of guilt at not having taken the time to realise this. Elliot was gone, but they still had no idea why. If it was for nothing more than a ransom, then why had they not received one? The lack of forthcoming requests from the kidnappers was a bad sign. For all he knew they would never find out why. They could have already permanently lost Elliot to strangers in the night.
“Fine, bring it with you. But keep it away from Alex. I don’t want her accidentally finding it, OK?”
Ruth nodded, then picked up her still unzipped bag, with the contents now threatening to spill everywhere. As she walked for the lounge she placed a hand on Graham’s arm. “Thank you,” she said.
He only just managed to hold back from babbling something in return. Ruth looked pale, like she was ill. He hated seeing her this way and wished he could think of something comforting or intelligent to say. Unfortunately, the only thing inside his head was a constant rerun of the video call he had taken from Elliot. Anything that distracted him from this only made the inevitable return that much more painful. Telling himself that he had done all he could, did little to help.
Back in the lounge he found his sister pouring herself a drink of water from the chilled bottle on the counter. She gulped it down without stopping to take a breath at all. Afterwards she wiped away the few spilled drops running down her chin and slid the cup onto the surface in front of her. It spun as it moved, until it eventually hit the wall behind.
“Anything else you need?” Graham asked, while hoping the answer was no. The bag could not take a thing more.
“I’m done.” She surveyed her home with a look of indifference and then said: “I can’t stay here any longer, not without Elliot. It’s just not home anymore.”
“Then let’s go. I’ll have Alex introduce you to her talking doll, it’s terrifying.”
Ruth smiled a forced smile before making her way toward the hall and leaving him to decide whether h
is jokes were appropriate or not for the situation. He knew she understood him well enough to take them as the only offering of comfort he could really manage. Of course she was understandably more delicate than usual today. This was his way of helping. Jane’s would have been to actually speak to the person and discuss how they felt – or the messy, emotional way, as he knew it.
While his sister was in the hallway, Graham returned to watching the news report. He had no plans to stay, it just felt odd to see the apartment so differently, like someone had recently died. They had come to collect their things and were leaving everything else as it was, as if disturbing it would alter their memories of the recently deceased.
He shook the sensation away with a shiver. Elliot was still alive, he was sure of it. He heard the door open in the background and as soon as he turned to head out, the wall screen switched off and left an eerie void of sound behind. The room had become far too quiet, enough so that the noises from outside had begun to seep in.
“Jesus Christ! Graham, help me,” Ruth suddenly screamed down the hall.
Without any warning at all the world had become too much for him to handle. All he could think to do was run out to join her, with little thought about what to expect. Whatever it was, he was needed there fast regardless of how flustered he had become. His mind raced with images of horrible things waiting, ready to attack as soon as he arrived. He was prepared with his fists already clenched.
When he neared the front door he froze in shock. There leaning against the door frame and looking precariously unbalanced, swaying back and forth, was his best friend Elliot. He wore a dark green duffle coat – many sizes too small for him – draped over his shoulders. As for the rest of him, all Graham could make out was the Simova logo in an odd shade of blotchy red.
