by E M G Wixley
Josie brushed her cheeks dry with the cuff of her oversized jumper and with earnest eyes looked directly at her daughter. “You could be right. I don’t really know. I do remember that the group of four men were discussing their stupid theories. Theodor was arguing that if our existence was a simulation, then they were free to play the game; however, they pleased as none of it was real.”
“You knew it was him,” Felicity said her eyes burning with rage. “You’ve described a psychopath.”
“He was thoroughly investigated as we all were,” Josie said then hushed Felicity up by placing her finger briefly on her lips. “Your father’s coming.”
“You always bend to his will, why?”
Felicity hurried over to the players and tapped Jonah on the shoulder. “We’re leaving!”
He took the helmet off and followed her to the utility room. As she pulled on her boots, she caught the fragrant smell of clean washing waiting in the basket and in her mind she saw a more loving mother helping her young daughter to wash her dolls clothes.
“What’s up? You’re shaking all over,” Jonah said anxiously.
“I did it. I confronted her, but I still can’t face him.”
“I take it; things didn’t go well.”
“No, I know nothing I don’t already know,” she retorted. “Let’s get out of here.”
Coincidence
Chapter Seven
Irvin bolted towards the pub to escape the wild easterly wind and the streamers of rain which lashed down threatening to leave him soaked. He was to be in charge as the owners were on holiday. As he pushed open the door, he shuddered and shook like a dog. Fires crackled at both ends of the long room providing warmth and a cheery glow to the bleak internal gloom.
The decorations were down, and the tourists had all but gone except for the brave. The craggy faces of old sea dogs sat huddled in small groups prevented from going to sea because of the monstrous waves crashing on the jagged rocks.
Irvin went into the back room, hung his coat up and re-entered rubbing his hands. Familiar faces hunched over the bar brooding and moaning about the hardships of winter. It will be an easy night, he thought. Glancing up he spotted Holly sitting with a group of girlfriends at the table in the bay window. His heart danced as she acknowledged his smile and nod of the head. As he cleared the bar of empty glasses and said goodnight to his workmate and old friend from the city who’d found him the job, he kept looking in her direction. Her soft, warm face and the cheeky dimpled grin were irresistible, and her laughter and sugary voice spun out catching him in a sticky net. It was refreshing to meet a naturally beautiful girl whose face wasn’t plastered in makeup.
The battering wind rushed in as a large family of tourists fell into the room. “Are you doing food?” an elderly woman asked, her wrinkled mouth forming into a grin.
“Yes. How many?”
“Six including the children.”
“It’s quieter at the other end on the table near the far fire,” he smiled broadly wishing they weren’t there. “I will come and take your drinks orders.” He pursued their movements making sure they chose the most suitable place, not that there was much choice. To them, he was the invisible barman there to meet their needs. He spent the next ten minutes preparing drinks and steering his way around the many obstacles, stools, dogs and the rusty old anchor which stood up against the chimney breast and frequently caught his ankles. When they were all settled and had placed their orders, he went into the kitchen to see the chef.
There was an icy draft, and on his return, he saw four local lads had pulled stools up to the table where the girls were sitting. Their backs were facing him, but he recognised the brothers, both tall, broad and redheaded. They were loud, forward and drunk. A quieter more preppy looking boy came to the bar, and Irvin reluctantly served him four pints of cider.
As they threw the golden liquid down their throats their voices loudened. Then the air filled with quarrelling as the boys argued over money one of the brothers insisted, he was owed.
Irvin pursued the movements of the unwanted customers who had turned their attention onto the three girls. The normally tedious job was becoming tense as a rowdy rotund farm worker squeezed into space beside a shy petite brown haired girl sitting at the far end of the group. He watched Holly lean forward and looking past the blonde-haired girl on her right addressed her vulnerable friend.
“Veronica, do you want to go?” she asked.
The girl blushed, “It’s okay,” she said nervously.
Irvin saw a surge of hate in Holly’s eyes as she glared a warning at the farmer's boy. Veronica giggled awkwardly as a chunky arm dropped over her shoulders. It was a painful moment, a bird being caged, the cries for help being mistaken for a song.
Holly squeezed past the group and strode towards the bar.
“How can I help you, madam,” Irvin said beaming.
“I’ll just have a soda,” she said flashing a smile. “They’re annoying me. I think I’ll go home soon.”
“Do you want me to throw them out?”
“No, they’re always like this, and if Veronicas too stupid to stand up for herself, that’s her lookout. I’m always telling her to be more assertive.”
“It would be a shame if you left. You’ve brightened up my shift.” He looked down at the counter keeping his hands busy straightening the mats, trying not to reveal how difficult it was making conversation with the girl with such a pleasing nature. “Did you have a good Christmas?”
“Yes, it was quiet.” Behind her, the noise was increasing, and she nervously glanced over her shoulder at the other two girls who’d fallen quiet. “Just me and mum and dad. It gets boring without much family. I mostly played the computer.”
“My dad’s an IT genius his company have invented this new virtual reality headset and game. He gave it to me to try out. It's like nothing I’ve played before.”
“What is it?”
“Seven monsters rule the world. They are in command over AI robots and are out to destroy anarchists within the human race. We have to work together to outwit them. It’s so real – you can go anywhere – do anything. You’re completely unaware of any scene building.”
“I would love to give it a try.”
“It’s not just a blast them up game. There are strategies and puzzles to solve. Absolutely amazing.”
“Fill it up,” a gruff voice interrupted. The bigger of the two brothers appeared at the bar standing too close to Holly. Irvin sensed a threat, leaned over the bar and shoved his face close, so he was glaring into the blue eyes. “Say please,” he sneered.
“Please, you little prick,” he said smirking.
Irvin lifted the flap of the counter. He knew what he had to do and moving as quickly as possible he headed towards the larger figure. The man’s friends rose, an audience ready and willing to join in the fight.
“Stop!” Holly cried out and moved between them. “Irvin you’ll get the sack.”
Irvin saw the look of distress on her face. He exchanged fiery glances with the jeering creep and moved back to his position behind the bar muttering, “you’re not worth it mate.”
The man snorted and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Irvin placed the drink on the bar hoping the man would return to his group. “That’s the last you’re getting,” he said forcefully. “Any more trouble and I will see that you get banned. There’s always a consequence to your actions.” He glanced over at the family, hoping they hadn’t been too disrupted and wishing they would go so he could close early. The man shakily pointed his finger in Irvin’s face as if he was also about to drive home a message. His lips parted.
“Is everything alright out here?” chef enquired standing large under the doorframe brandishing a large meat knife. “You need to behave, Rogan,” he said wiping the blade on his apron.
“All’s fine,” Irvin said fastening his glowering eyes onto his unruly customer.
Peace appeared to be restored, so he went to the far end of th
e counter to serve another patron, who’d been waiting far too long. When he turned back around, he saw Rogan’s meaty hand clutching Holly’s bottom. Rage surged. He lifted himself on the bar and swung his legs to the ground. The room dropped into a deep hush, but there was a roaring in his brain. Fuelled by his rumbling emotions, he rushed across the room. Glancing up he saw tears standing in Holly’s eyes. He leapt up to grab the man’s coat and raised his fists. His anger was forced into nothing, and he spun around, half tripping and half jumping over the obstacle beneath his feet. He steadied himself and gawped at the crumpled heap of his enemy writhing in agony on the stone floor.
Chef hurried over and together they lifted Rogan clear off the ground and headed for the door. They pushed the man into the gutter. He stumbled to his feet as his friends shot past Irvin and chef out into the rain. Holly then appeared with a glad smile on her face.
“What happened?” Irvin said with a sense of relief. “I was ready to beat his brains out.”
“I can fight my own battles,” she grinned. “He squeezed me, and I crushed him.”
They watched as the group slouched off shouting curses and kicking out at random objects. “You’re dead meat!” Rogan’s brother shouted back making gestures with his fingers. “Outsiders don’t survive long here.” They continued with their bluster and fake brawling until they came to the crossroads where they stood disputing where to go next. Chef returned to the kitchen.
Headlights were flashing around the corner and down the hill. Holly was gazing up at the tumbling houses on the other side of the harbour. Irvin was gawping at Holly transfixed, at her soft, pleasant face and the eyes ablaze with a streak of defiant violence. This is what he most admired a strong spirit which refused to be conquered. In that fraction of time, he fell in love with the Cornish girl.
Irvin turned towards the noise and saw the spray in the beams of light. Everything stopped, petrified by the sickening, fearful sound of screeching brakes and metal impacting with flesh. There were pitiful screams for help as Irving and Holly rushed to the scene.
After a night of broken sleep, Irvin awoke to a hammering on his bedroom door. “Be with you in a minute,” he called out as he rushed to pull on his jeans and t-shirt. Before he could complete dressing the door, burst open and standing beneath the frame was his landlady, Mrs Price.
“Sorry, but you can’t just walk in on people,” he said annoyed at the intrusion.
“This is my house,” she retorted. “And you’re fired.”
“Why?”
“The whole village is grieving at the loss of one of our young fishermen.” Irvin pulled his top over his head and glanced in her direction. Her face was contorted with anger. “Their family have lived in this village for centuries, and you drove him under the wheels of a car. You get into fights, and you’re unreliable. This room is a mess and what’s that smell?”
The atmosphere was grim despite the square of sunshine pushing into the room. Irvin and Holly had been up until the early hours trying to help at the crash scene, willingly giving statements to the police. It hurt profoundly seeing someone die so carelessly. The whole thing was cruel. Irvin averted his gaze, only half-listened and allowed her bullet words to whizz past his head. He rapidly packed while his own inner thoughts attempted to drill their protests towards his lips. The idiot was pawing and leering over young girls. It wasn’t my fault if blind drunk, he stood in the path of an equally irresponsible driver.
Irvin wasn’t going to respond rashly, there was no point, he’d been in this very same situation numerous times before. Holding down a job for any length of time in England seemed impossible. He was treated so differently when travelling.
“We have no written contract.” Irvin glanced up at her face and saw the ugliness of human nature as the woman transferred all her hate and frustration onto her ex-employer. “I want you to leave my property immediately.”
He’d seen the same spitting and frothing mouth so often before. He loathed her and all the others who’d pushed him out for futile reasons. You stupid woman, you’ve just paid me, and now you won’t be getting this months’ rent. He smiled to himself knowing that if she’d sacked him tomorrow, the money would be in her account. Not receiving any response angered her further.
“And I can smell dope,” she hissed. “I should go to the police.”
“I don’t smoke that shit. You need to look closer to home,” he said referring to her son who lived in the room above. Resigned to his fate he strode towards the door and pushed past the woman. He was angry at having his plans derailed, and all chances of happiness with Holly extinguished, but the scenario was at least familiar.
Back at home to avoid the disparaging remarks and contemptuous expressions thrown in his direction by his parents he withdrew to his room. He sleepwalked through the days in a state of solemn oblivion becoming increasingly more preoccupied with the virtual reality world of the game. It was a month later when he answered a call. He’d blindly picked his phone up not bothering to look at the name. When he didn’t recognise the voice, he responded with a muttered confusion.
“Irvin, it’s me, Holly.”
“Holly, okay,” he said flustered. “It’s good to hear from you. I thought you’d forgotten me.”
“Irvin so much has happened down here. It’s been a nightmare.”
Hearing the sobs in her voice caused him to take notice. He lay his headset on his desk and started to pace the room. “What’s up?”
“Ryan, Rogan’s brother, started stalking me. He’s so angry – he blames me for his brother’s death,” she said in a small voice as she reached out to him across the distance.
Irvin wanted to console her, but he knew she wanted something different and held back with his response.
“He followed me home from work and jumped me. I banged my head on the curb, and then everything rolled around in my head like marbles, and then I can’t remember. I’ve been in the hospital. I’m okay now – just a broken arm.”
Irvin was disorientated; his emotions were tumultuous, and many questions were forming around her story.
“I’m coming down straight away – just wait – I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he spluttered. “I’ll frigging kill the dick.”
“You don’t need to rush down. It would serve no purpose.”
“Why? I want to be with you. Sort this mess out together.”
“He’s dead. He died on the same date, in the same way, and the same place has his brother.”
There was a stunned silence as Irvin contemplated the bizarre coincidence.
“Something weird is going on,” she said in a frightened whisper. “I want to get away from here.”
“Get on the next train and come to me,” Irvin said. “I’ll send details.”
Theodore’s Mission
Chapter Eight
Birdie had spent a long time waiting by the window in the operations room, for Theodore to finish analysing his data. The warehouse was vast but inconspicuous amongst the other similar buildings. Far below he saw people scurrying along the broad street happily oblivious to the dormant power which one day would be unleashed upon them all. Storm clouds consumed the sky, umbrellas popped up and their pace increased. He pondered on how it was all spoilt for him, he was disconnected from nature and everyday human existence.
In his peripheral vision, a light from a screen flicked off, and Theodore slid into view standing tall with the build of a boxer rather than a scientist.
“What do you have for me this week?” Theodore said in his monotone voice.
“There are a few problems with the supercomputer,” he replied. “Nothing we can’t handle – hackers, I think. Still, they’re unnerving Dante.” Speaking out about his friend and Dante’s area of expertise filled him with anxiety. Theodore had made him aware from the very beginning that fortunes could be reversed. He had only ever been a bit player a shadow following Dante’s unfathomable intelligence. A spy locked into a ritual of reporting back to th
is monster every Friday for years. He understood by supporting his bosses’ mission, he was making himself a part of his crime. Any alternative options he’d explored turned out to be unfeasible as he feared being on the wrong side of the great divide.
“All of them running behind false idles,” Theodore muttered. He stood close and placed his large hand on Birdie’s shoulder. “Look at them down there, complacent philistines,” Theodore laughed. “The separation between them and us will never be bridged now. What else do you have to tell me? How’s our friend Dante?”
“He says he had a good Christmas,” Birdie replied uneasily.
“Come on, please, the truth. Remember the five of us in our group are bound together. There’s no separation. We need to keep on top of any issues.”
“I think he’s having family problems.”
“How so?”
Beads of sweat broke out on Birdie’s forehead, and he was aware of the weight of Theodore’s hand pressing down on his shoulder. “His daughter, Felicity has been asking questions about Elley. Upsetting her mother. He thinks she somehow remembers something.”
“And Irvin, what’s he up to.”
“I think he’s okay – still bumming around. Benefitting from his father’s cheats. Neither of them has the money stresses of the masses,” Birdie said in a meditative tone, thinking of the poor sods on the streets below.
“Cheats can be withdrawn. Or perhaps they should join the ranks of the disappeared,” Theodore said releasing the pressure of his hand and allowing it to drop to his side. “This is all so disagreeable. Why rake over the past.” The large man placed his knuckles on the windowsill as though he needed support and then lifted them above his head and stretched. “The vulnerable have always been fed upon – her part was small and my human weakness large. There should be no passion involved with the purity of our type of creation. As we all know, most great artists were corrupt souls.”
Hearing the monster attempting to justify his horrendous crimes filled Birdie with horror. “There must be limitations to our actions Sir,” he said swallowing the bile building in the back of his throat.
