Authonomy – Friday Flash Fiction [FFF]

Post: FFF – February 21, 2014

Theme / Genre: Birthday.

Include: –

Words: 1,040

The Bodies

The required devices, the required packages and not forgetting the required security tools. All zipped up in his black rubber backpack. It was time to leave, he headed for the lift.

***

The lift doors opened.

‘Ground floor, main entrance, exit to Stockwell Street. Friday 21st February 2019. Eight fifty-two a.m. Sunny. Temperature twenty-three degrees centigrade,’ the lift’s voice programme announced on reaching the lobby. ‘Have a glorious day, Matteon.’

‘Thanks, Otis, you too.’

Matteon left George Lucas block and turned right, east, down Stockwell Street and headed into the city. Four Blocks should do it, then catch the air-tram out west to Redrock Heights, to the more upmarket part of New Brisbane. Four blocks, back streets, side streets, double-backs, shimmy a few sheltered alley fences, avoid as many streetcams as possible, enough to confuse anyone monitoring him, then board the Redrock air-tram with the cover of the open Eurasian market.

If she’s hacked the systems, she won’t be able to track me, he thought.

And that’s how it happened, the Redrock Heights air-tram skimmed the streets out West, positioned above the busier commercial road level, full of delivery and sanitation vehicles, together with lost tourists in their hire-pods, and below the faster upper-level air-taxis. The taxis would’ve been quicker but public transport was harder to trace.

Matteon glimpsed the red hills to the west through the tall metropolitan buildings. Slowly, the hills became bigger and the buildings shorter as the tram hit the suburbs, trees appeared and the roads were less busy. He stretched out his legs, the sun warmed his face, eyes protected by mirrored wraparound glasses. The tram’s next stop was the city limits transport hub; the rest of the journey would be by delivery truck.

Alighting at the hub, Matteon, made straight for the exit and air-taxi queues. At the end of the rank sat a Pizza delivery truck, he got in.

‘Hi, Matteon, how are you?’ the driver said.

‘I’m well, Lil,’ Matteon said. ‘You?’

‘Not too bad, this research into being a pizza delivery driver has it’s benefits you know.’

The smell of Pepperoni pizza and garlic bread filled the van’s interior, Matteon knew what she meant.

‘Anyway, we better get off, I’ve a van full of pizza destined for Redrock, I don’t want it to get cold,’ Lil started the van and pulled out, heading for the hills. ‘I’ll drop you around the back, near the woods, you can walk the rest of the way.’

‘Perfect.’

Ten minutes later, and in the shadows of the woods Matteon made his way into the undergrowth, Lil and her van rumbled off in the distance. Branches and twigs cracked underfoot as he made his way. The late morning sun, high in the sky, beat down through the branches. Wild birds squawked high above in the canopy only to be silenced by sudden screech. Matteon froze, the wood fell silent.

Was it a scream? A human scream? Or some local wild animal trying it on with a mate? He couldn’t tell, with all the noise of the crackling vegetation underfoot the scream had been disguised, too short to be truly clarified. The wood gradually came back to life, as Matteon stood waiting for another sign, another voice or call; it didn’t come.

Even at midday, the trees and their roots made for a creepy location, straggly branches and intertwined above-ground roots seemed to hover waiting to strike, wrap their prey as it passed, fortunately they didn’t, but they certainly looked as if they would. Treading through them took concentration, something that suddenly escaped him, down he fell between two huge specimens. Hands spread to stop his fall; they disappeared under the floor of leaves. Fingers touched something cold and rubbery in the mulch, he pulled it free only to drop it instantly.

‘Oh, Jesus!’ he shouted aloud.

The dirty green decaying hand bounced on the bed of leaves at his feet. Matteon ran. He’d heard about such things lying around in her close vicinity, but thought it just urban myth. As if needing more proof the swinging torso that blocked his running route seemed to sway in his direction as he ran towards it, blocking his head with his arm, his elbow hit the hanging legs as he passed. He stumbled for a second but his momentum carried him on, he didn’t look back, even when he heard the dull thud of the headless corpse hitting the forest floor.

The house appeared out of nowhere, three-metre high razor-wired fencing separated it from the woods. Matteon felt the shock of electricity before he saw the fence, it threw him back the way he came.

After a dazzled minute he pulled off his bag and administered the insulated wire clippers. Once through the fence, he darted between the shrubs and flower beds surrounding the building, to the side door. Pulling another gadget form his rucksack he placed it up against the security keypad. The electric gizmo, flashed up sequences of numbers at his command. He opened up the voice recorder on his phone and waited.

The keypad bleeped acceptance of the supplied numbers and the intercom requested voice recognition. Matteon played the recording.

‘Hawaiian pizza for Ms Marlowe,’ the voice said, the door clicked open.

The inner hallway smelt of fish and chips, probably from the night before. The second secure system panel flashed a blue light, it waited. Fishing out a plastic bag from his rucksack, Matteon pulled out a still warm eyeball. The pair, taken from the glove compartment of the delivery van, having been recently removed from a very late delivery man. Her regular pizza delivery man’s eyeballs did the trick, the inner door slid open. In he entered.

She was out in town, dressed in one of her flamboyant jackets no doubt, at a book signing, Matteon could sneak in undetected, by the time her laptop security monitor picked him out he would be long gone.

Emptying the bag of it’s last contents, seven years of hard labour, learning the craft with her help, he laid his signed first novel on the kitchen counter, along with the birthday card.

‘Happy Birthday, Tonia!’