Club27 Read online

  ‘You don’t think she’ll tell anyone?’ he said as whatever it was he played with sprang back into shape.

  ‘I’m not sure who she could tell and what she’d really be able to tell them, a two hundred years old lady came in and stole a key from me, by the way she looked good for two hundred. I’d seriously doubt it.’ Swinging round of her chair as something clicked and buzzed behind her.

  ‘What’s that noise?’ Simon asked pointing at the white block that made the buzz.

  ‘I pressed print on a page I presume is Michael Hassan’s address. I’m guessing it’s some sort of digital press.’ Out spat a white page with small writing listing an address on it.

  Chapter 8

  ‘This is not what I was expecting,’ Simon’s silhouette said, it’d become very dark, very quickly, sirens sounded in the background. This was a pretty good sign they were in a rough part of town, which was a shame as Mary and Simon had passed through the nice part of town to get here.

  ‘I thought doctors were meant to be well paid. This place looks like a bit of a shit tip, pardon my French.’ Simon continued as Mary snooped around. She tended not to stray too far away from Simon. Mainly so she didn’t lose him but also Simon, to her, seemed to be coming off as a little useless. Which he was of course.

  ‘Please stay put. I’m going to check the back, see if there’s an open entrance.’ She scurried off behind the converted house, now with two doors.

  Michael, who didn’t seem to be home lived in the down stairs flat.

  ‘We could just break and enter.’ Simon yelled in a half tone.

  ‘We can’t break and enter.’ Mary replied.

  ‘Why in hell not. You’ve already threatened an old lady tonight.’ He spoke under his breath.

  ‘Would you help us if we broke into your home?’ Mary’s words got away from her at the end. The abeyance had confused her a little.

  ‘I guess not.’ He fiddled his thumbs, Mary had popped back out from behind the home.

  ‘No luck I’m afraid.’ She slipped her hands into her pants.

  ‘Did you try the plant pot.’ Simon said pointing at one by the door step.

  ‘I told you nobody keeps keys.’ As she spoke Simon prodded a plant pot with his cane. It rolled to one side. Below was a brass key.

  ‘Who on earth actually does that.’ Mary said in a shocked statement. She grabbed the key from the floor, it was wet and had started to gather a little rust around the loop of the key. A sensation came over her to throw the key to Simon, which she quickly repressed being Simon had little chance of catching it. The rust didn’t help the key to function, it barely slid into the keyhole and got caught twice, Mary wiggled it when it did so.

  The door swung open.

  ‘Maybe we should have knocked first.’ Simon said hiding behind Mary shaking like a loose leaf.

  Cameron hoped Gilly hadn’t moved, he once lived above the three-legged lamb but also shared a flat in a rise of peachy concrete slabs with his wife. They weren’t together anymore but they both stayed there due to convenience and the fact they’d known nothing different, even now they still called one another husband and wife, it was ingrained in them.

  The first set of steps creaked like they always did. Cameron was so used to things creaking under his feet he never really thought much of it. Most of Arbeia creaked, most of the northeast of England creaked for that matter.

  At the top of the stair well, a little old lady stood, somebody had obviously set her to vibrate, she stood with a cup of tea, half full in her hand.

  ‘Mrs Greeves?’ Cameron asked hitting the top of the stairs with single leg one second and being at Mrs. Greeves side by the next.

  She was shaking so much that the passive vibrations hurt Cameron’s hand and made his wrist cramp as he attempted to stop her.

  ‘Are you okay?’ He asked as he pushed the mole woman back into her home where she skidded across the floor like an air hockey puck.

  ‘I’ll take this.’ The tea was slowly removed from her to save spillage. Cameron tasted it, stone cold. She’d obviously held on to it for some time now.

  The kettle was put back on for her, Cameron quickly put together another cup and lay it on a coaster in front of her.

  This time she’d composed herself to take a couple of sips, this was enough of a sign to Cameron that he could leave her be.

  ‘I’ll be back to check on you soon Mrs Greeves.’ Cameron said, knowing he wouldn’t be, it was just the thing you said.

  The door hadn’t even been closed behind Simon and Mary, never mind locked, with a stride Cameron stepped over the pile of letters and bills Gilly always had piled at the door.

  Nothing seemed out of place, Gilly’s home wasn’t tidy, but it was organized, Cameron thought it just looked lived in, the only odd point was firstly Gilly had a computer, that was weird, being Gilly didn’t even buy a dishwasher for the three-legged lamb, he thought anything with diodes would explode.

  Secondly it was left on, this was huge, Gilly thought leaving things on would cause them to start huge fires, the jukebox was always switched off and he kept the fuse for the plug behind the bar, it made racking up a decent play list hard.

  Gilly held his huge fish.

  ‘You’re fishing now? You’ve changed.’ He said to the digital image of his old pub landlord. There was an odd feeling talking to a photo of a guy he’d only seen a few hours ago, and had probably been killed by his son or at least had gone missing seconds after he’d met him.

  A few clicks later and a yellow sticky note and Cameron was back on the move.

  The door slowly opened to a beige carpeted hallway, no photos hung on the cream walls, it looked clinical like the old facility.

  Mikey’s home wasn’t much to look at, to the point that if you did it would hurt your eyes

  ‘Are you coming in?’ Mary had already made it past the mat, she didn’t wipe her feet on, she ran her finger across the walls feeling the uneven texture of the wall. Swinging around on the frame of the door she came to, falling into a bedroom.

  Like a duck learning to swim Simon prodded his feet into the water, which in this case was a small mat which said Hello on it. Once he was over the threshold it was easier to make the breaking and entering official and he quickly caught up to Mary.

  The bedroom was dark but looked clean, the curtains had been drawn, dampening most of the street lights from outside

  ‘You’d expect him to be home by now.’ Simon said following behind Mary, he held the door open with one arm.

  ‘Yeah. He’s a man of science, he probably has some big project on.’ Mary examined.

  ‘Work,’ said Simon, it sounded like a question but was meant more as an answer.

  ‘Probably, when I was building the chambers, I’d rarely get home before midnight, if we sit here and wait, he’ll come home, probably.’ Mary said walking back from the bedroom and through to the living area, it shared a wall with the living room but could be seen off a bar in the center, other than that it was all wood floors and white walls.

  On the coffee table, which sort of tied the room together as they commonly did, a small pile of letters sat, this time none of them bills, the place seemed organised within an inch of its life, nobody should live this organised, it was wrong.

  ‘No, I mean if he gets work, he gets paid, a pay slip, in turn will give us an address of where he works.’ Simon explained with one hand, the other propping himself up.

  ‘Makes sense, but the better choice would be to stay here and wait for his arrival.’ Mary explained

  ‘Unless he’s disposed of by Cameron’s kid beforehand.’

  ‘Point taken, let’s begin opening the letters.’ Mary was quickly converted when sense was staring her in the face.

  The letters were fruitless, Micky wasn’t the type to leave important letters unopened, and pay checks were important letters and numbers.

  ‘You seem somewhat affiliated with the lad, where would you keep important work based paperwo
rk?’ Simon asked towering over Mary, she taken to the couch, slumped into it she was surrounded with paper.

  ‘At the time, before my demise some of my projects were still secret from my husband. Many notes were kept where only women would work.’ She explained, pushing herself up till her back could sit straight on the sofa under her.

  ‘Which was?’ Simon probed.

  ‘The larder, my husband rarely entered there, this house seems far too small for a larder though, wouldn’t you think?’ Mary explained, as she was prone to do.

  ‘The bread bin,’ Even the mega rich had bread bins, except Elvis who had twelve. The both of them burst into the kitchen, Simon had a bit of a head start as he was standing, Mary quickly caught up due to the fact she had both functioning legs.

  The bread bin was a little brown box of cheap wood, the style everyone had and told themselves they’d replace, the style which had a cover which slid over, nobody ever closed it but they had all intention too and the bread would go moldy anyway.

  Michael’s was closed, this spoke volumes about who he was as a person.

  The bin opened with a clatter and three blue letters sprung out like jack in the box.

  ‘Brilliant.’ Mary said under her breath and then they were off again. The letter simply told them a street name and facility. But in seconds Mary knew its location. They’d summoned a taxi and we’re on their way.

  Cameron’s fatigue had started to set in, he’d walked from one side of Arbia to the other, how the romans had done it in sandals Cameron had no clue, his old Red skate shoes were worse from wear and many people had asked him if he “goth the time” which he didn’t, and it didn’t make much sense being he wasn’t goth.

  Mikey’s home was heaven at this point, even though it seemed likely that there wouldn’t be much hospitality.

  Not from Mikey and probably very little from Simon and Mary, from the outside looking in, they always seemed to be steps ahead of him, and he was starting to get tired, all Cameron wanted was to rest when Mikey’s door became visible, a light glowed from the little window in the door, it was open.

  ‘For fucks sake.’ His stumble became a gallop, till he reached the door, this time it didn’t need a gentle nudge to come loose, it was fully open. Cameron looked around for any shaken up old ladies, which there seemed to be a lack of, and entered.

  ‘For fucks sake.’ He repeated, it had begun to become his mantra. Every light was on, his father’s voice echoed in the back of his head, it looks like Blackpool in here.

  Nothing seemed out of place or moved, it wasn’t going to be as easy to follow them this time, Cameron moved through the house trying not to touch anything but still looking for where Simon and Mary may have gotten to.

  In the living room sat a small pile of open letters, they were done with care and didn’t look out of place, Cameron flicked through them anyway, neatly replacing them in what he thought was the correct order.

  There was an abnormal clinical feeling to the whole building, well ordered beyond the need of any normal person, Cameron didn’t feel rushed in Mickey’s home, the stillness of white kept Cameron oddly relaxed. The room had the same feeling of his old shrink’s office, the shrink who was meant to help Cameron stable out. Three times a week he met her, a mousy blonde who held her hair up like it was the fifties still. Cameron ran his fingers through his long greasy mane, he hadn’t washed in twenty years and the stress of running from place to place had thicken up the oil his hair had collected.

  He wondered into the kitchen and collapsed into a breakfast table chair, it sprang down then up under his weight. Three letters sat out of place, at eye line, the poked out of an ugly bread bin, which strangely reminded him of his mother, he didn’t know why.

  The pay slips listed an address which had a familiar sound to Mary, Simon didn’t care much to ask why.

  ‘Why does this Street look familiar though? There has to be some importance on the matter.’ Mary showed the torn envelope to Simon once more, it flickered in the lights as the taxi drove through the street lamps, turning the pages from pink to orange and pink again as the gloss of the page caught the glow.

  ‘I’m sick of this wild goose chase,’ Simon said peering through the window, his pale face also turned orange in the light, but this time a bright full orange, as the light found white face much more appealing than the pink.

  ‘You don’t think I am?’ she crossed her arms in anger.

  ‘This used to be my town, I knew each street like the back of my hand, now it’s a mess of upper and lower class, the old and the new crammed together. Buildings look like they have had bits simply dropped onto one another. When I was around.’ She trailed off

  ‘When you were around ten-year-old boys were sold into working in chimneys.’ Simon finished her thought.

  ‘Everybody thinks their generation was better at doing things, my grandkids are always playing on their bloody phones. Texting their mates.’ Said the taxi driver who’d only heard half the conversation but figured he’d join in anyway.

  ‘Thank you.’ Said Simon, there was a little sarcasm in his voice, but he had little practice in it so the statement came out a lot softer than planned.

  The driver wiggled around in his seat, smug in the fact he’d helped his face showed it also, but the two sat in the back and couldn’t see the drivers face.

  ‘That’ll be seven seventy.’ Said the cabby pulling up, within seconds the driver was pressing buttons on a little screen stuck to the window.

  Mary handed off a red note she’d got of the last cabby in exchange for the purple one she’d given her.

  ‘Keep the remainder.’ She stepped with haste from the car.

  ‘It can’t be.’ Her jaw dropped three inches, it would drop to the floor if it was able.

  MR PRATCHETT’S, a huge sign informed the two,

  ‘The joke shop?’ Simon caught up to Mary, his jaw dropped in reply to Mary’s. The shock filled his body like hot electric, it burnt his nerves and made his fingers numb.

  ‘How have we ended up back here?’ swallowed and spat his words all at the same time, it had an odd effect.

  ‘It’s getting late, we’ve probably missed him by now.’ Mary stepped in between the awe Simon was sweating.

  ‘It’s starting to get early if anything. The sun’s about to come up.’ An orange hue began to warm the sky from the bottom up.

  ‘We’ll go in, if he’s there, he’s there, if not then.’ She trailed off and taking a deep breath treaded towards the doors, this door, opposed to the big grey fire doors they’d escaped from, these were a nice looking pair of glass doors held together by green painted metal. The doors hissed open, Mary stepped in followed by Simon trailing his leg along.

  ‘Can I help you?’ a middle-aged lady behind a white counter asked, the two couldn’t drop their jaws anymore.

  Chapter 9

  'For fucks sake.’ The glow warmed Cameron’s face as the sun peaked from behind some trees, luckily in his youth Bishop was a huge walker, few stopped him back then, to sign stuff or take pictures now nobody stopped him, this could have been because it was three in the morning as he walked around the main part of the town. He’d rested around two a.m. for a few minutes on a bench, until some drunks began yelling at him, this town will never change, he thought to himself as he left the street.

  Mr. Pratchett’s, where this whole thing had started, was just Around the corner now, Cameron closed his eyes for a few seconds and pulled in a huge breath all through his nose, he’d rather not open he mouth as the taste of tin had begun to sweep through it.

  The red shoes which Cameron had now worn to nothing, flapped as he lifted his foot, the sole had got caught on something as he walked through the town, and torn from its threading it opened and closed like a gaping mouth.

  The little sign he’d last past as he’d left the facility now stood out as a blue beacon, the light of the new sun bouncing from the shining metal glinted in his eye. But this wasn’t the same sign, it
was new, freshly painted, the building was only the same by name, but not by location.

  'How many of these fucking places are there?’ Cameron asked but was unsure he’d actually want the answer.

  There was yelling coming from a set of double doors, they’d been closed but this didn’t hinder the strength of sound, a very aggravated woman.

  'You cannot, I repeat cannot take somebody else’s work, stick your name all over it and claim it as your own.’ The voice was definitely Mary’s, Cameron thought, a man mumbled in reply, Cameron ran, well attempted to, it was difficult to do so with a shoe in such disrepair.

  In the entrance of the building sat a woman in tears, she was blonde and leggy and her mid-forties, she wiped tears away from her face looked up and caught Cameron’s eye.

  ‘You too?’ the woman asked, it was the nurse from the old Somnus building. She’d recognised Cameron the moment she set eyes on him. Her face turned read again and she burst back into a huge weeping fit.

  ‘Bad time?’ Cameron looked like shit but even this shit could still make a joke. Simon sat with his eyes closed and his cane over his thighs, Mary stood face to face with a man in a suit, Cameron presumed the old nurses boss.

  ‘How was the wedding?’ he asked the torn-up girl, she wept a deep sob, looking up something had drained itself from her nose.

  ‘We’re split up.’ Her make up ran thick down her face making her look like a Halloween mask.

  Within seconds Cameron suddenly had a tall raven haired woman in his arms, they closed around her in instinct.

  ‘Don’t go wondering off again.’ Mary whispered in his ear, although he never really considered it wondering off, wondering off was what children did, Cameron had a plan in mind, children which got lost didn’t, he didn’t think.

  ‘Mikey’s here, I know he is.’ She said, allowing Cameron to breathe again as she dropped a way from the embrace.

  ‘I know.’ He held her by the shoulder so he could tell her to her face.

  ‘Michael Hassan, he works here.’ Cameron pushed past Mary so he could speak to the man she’d been yelling at. The man wore a fitted suit, although his shoulders were so wide the suit seemed to fit a little snug.