Cheap Thrills (6 Thrilling reads) (2 page)

Two

Ray was doing his usual Monday morning routine. Check his emails, look at the world news and run his postal business from home. The online ordering business is a strange business to be in. It always made him laugh at some of the things people send others. His business was a gifting website so to speak. People would log onto his website and randomly gift things to random people. It worked on a registration system that matched certain people up and recommended them as being compatible with the other. It was his new take on online dating. It had worked, seeing that he makes a rather neat living off it. He’s not rich by any stretch of the imagination. A lot of the money he makes goes into the infrastructure of his website. Sure, he’s had plenty of big money offers from companies who want to buy his unique brand, but he’s sure of where his routes lie and they lie with the users. He wants it to be a homely place for lonely people to make friends. Even if that means getting by while having his apartment filled to the brim with servers.

He’s staring at his computer screen and digesting the world’s events. He usually does this with a cup of coffee in his hand but today he has opted for a Red Bull. He knows the stuff isn’t too good for you, but he just can’t bring himself to get up from his chair and miss out on any breaking news. He sits there for a while, still trying to grasp what is going on. It confuses him slightly. Could he be mistaken on what he is reading?

He has been following the case of a computer technician who went missing ten years ago. The man’s wife insists that her husband had been kidnapped but officers insist that the suicide note that he had left behind before blowing his head off was proof enough that the man was dead. The thing is, when the wife ID’d the body at the morgue she was adamant that it was not him, so much so she demanded a DNA test. The cops were sceptical of her because the sad truth is; she has a history of mental problems. The woman suffers from Bipolar and a mild case of schizophrenia, if there was ever such a thing as a mild case of schizophrenia that is.

The head of the man was obviously beyond recognition. A shotgun blast from close range will do that to a human. But the one thing that makes the woman certain that her husband was not the one lying on the table in front of her was the fact that his skin complexion was off. She remembered that he had three moles on his chest; the corpse at the morgue had no moles. To make things worse, the man’s DNA profile magically disappeared. It’s been a low brow case since. Not much media exposure what so ever. If it isn’t drug or gang related, the media doesn’t want to know.

But today of all days, Ray found himself staring at the screen in dismay. After ten years of searching, the woman had found her husband’s body. It was dumped on her front lawn that very morning. His face was still intact, no shotgun blast to the head. Her husband was dead, but not from the suicide he apparently committed ten years prior. Where was her husband for the past ten years? Why was his body dumped on her lawn today of all days? These were the questions that the news wanted answering. These were the questions Ray found himself asking.

Three

New York’s Sewers

The alarmed mysterious man looks down at his arm. He can see the blinking light pulsate in his wrist, much like a sniper’s laser dot. He isn’t being scoped at though; the light he’s seeing is a light that’s been blinking in his wrist under his skin for the past two hours. It’s been gnawing at him. Distracting him from his daily routine. What’s a man supposed to do when he sees a blinking light in his wrist? Does he tell people? Does he run? He’s done the latter because he did not need to tell anyone. Not one soul needed to know. Not a living soul anyway.

A few hours prior
he had found himself at a rather large dinner party. He just signed the deal of a lifetime. The lawyer’s firm he works for was rather pleased with his progress. The Japanese clients he was wining and dining were impressed with his pitch. They signed on earlier that day and that evening was supposed to be a celebration. It turned out to be the start of something he had no control over. It was something no one had any control over.

He was sitting there an hour into his meal when something caught his eye. One of his fellow colleagues was twitching about in his seat. He was sweating profusely. The man didn’t know what was wrong, but soon found himself in the same fearsome state. He clocked his fellow worker’s eyes drift from his dinner down to his wrist. A bright red beam had seemed to illuminate itself through the man’s skin. Suddenly the frightened co-worker had bounced off his seat and up to his feet, waving his bright red arm around as if it were on fire.

‘My arm, my goddamn arm! There’s something wrong, call an ambulance!’ The man had screamed.

The top flight lawyer found himself in shock at what was happening to his co-worker. In fact, so did the gentleman they were entertaining. A tirade of English and Japanese fear was heard at the table as a few men cleared the area and stepped back, cell phones in hand ready to call the ambulance.

‘Hold on, I’ll get help,’ the well-dressed lawyer said to his reeling work buddy.

He had stepped away from the table where he saw the flailing man panic. The blinking red light in the man’s arm had engulfed the room in a light that was now noticeable from all angles of the room. It was as if the skin on the man’s arm was melting away and with it shards of light were penetrating through
the now torn arm with flashes of reds and yellows.

The lawyer’s heart was pounding a mile a minute as he decided to heed his words as he ran from the table to try and get some help. He ran through the dining area where countless patrons of the restaurant were scrambling for the exits.

‘Someone get me a doctor, we need a doctor, my friend’s arm….someone please help us,’ the successful lawyer screamed as he shook at random people for help.

No one was stopping as they all bolted for the exits in panic. The lawyer had found himself in fear as he looked around the half empty restaurant. Not one person was prepared to help him and his friend. He turned around to see his friend scream as his arm seemed to disappear in a frenzy of red lights. Even the Japanese people that had come with them to the restaurant had vanished. He looked on in amazement as his friends eyes had locked onto his with one last plea. All the lawyer could muster was a mimed “sorry” as his friend screamed one last time. The room went a bright red as a shower of
lights burst through the co-worker. It seemed to escape through every pour in the man’s body. For a few seconds there was nothing but light and then the lights vanished as the man’s body exploded into a mist of red and black.

The lawyer looked on in amazement. In shock, he moved closer to inspect the remains of his co-worker, and then suddenly he looked down at his wrist. The blinking lights had started once more, just like they started blinking on the wrist of his now dead co-worker. That’s why the lawyer is in the sewers right now. Maybe they can’t find him down here. Just maybe he can escape. Whatever happens, he knows that the blinking lights in his wrist had stopped flashing so violently once he made his way underground. Maybe he has enough time to figure this out.
Just maybe.

Four

‘So the guy’s dead?’ the man asks the well-dressed woman in his new age styled office.

Fish tanks surround the office in replacement of walls. Sharks and other sea creatures lurk around in the waters as the bright artificial lights bounce the blues and whites of the tanks onto the office floor. The woman catches herself looking at the mirage of lights dancing on the floor. The man behind the desk clears his throat much like a teacher does when they suspect a student isn’t paying attention.

‘I’m sorry Mr Conway. It won’t happen again. As I said on the phone, it’s just a slight glitch,’ the pretty woman says as she still remains fixated on the floor, looking at it as if looking her boss in the eyes would be dangerous at this very moment in time.

‘Miss Harriet, I do suggest you pay attention. After all I could magic up a glitch of my own making,’ Mr Conway says coldly as he looks the woman up and down.

She complies and looks her boss in the eye. He smiles and gets up from his chair. He walks over to her slowly, making his way around the desk. The big army type’s bulk makes his strides uneven but not so much that anyone would notice, just the more observant people. She notices and every step he takes is another reminder of the power this man holds in his own weight. His sheer mass is enough to intimidate anyone, even Miss Harriet. He reaches for her and puts a stiff, yet gentle hand on her shoulder. It’s much out of context considering the size of his hands. She finds herself wondering why he is being so gentle. Usually he’s much tougher. Usually he’s much rougher.

‘I admit that even I make mistakes Miss Harriet. Even I slip up from time to time. But this isn’t just some mistake. This is truly a monumental fuck up!’ he says gently as he caresses her cheek. She tries not to flinch.

‘Look sir, I understand the ramifications of my actions but surly we can put this behind us?’ She pleads.

She’s not used to pleading for anything. Miss Harriet has gotten to where she is today because of fortitude, not favours or pleas for promotion. She works hard and accepts full responsibility for anything she does. She’s a true soldier at heart.

‘You killed our top computer guy, and then you had him dumped on the front yard of his grieving wife that for the past ten years thought he was dead. Surely this is more than a fuck up. This is beyond a rookie mistake. We can’t afford to be linked to any of this. I do hope you realise my position,’ the man says as he continues to stroke her face.

‘I do Sir but…’

He stops stroking her cheek and steps back a few steps.

‘Disciplinary action will be taken Miss Harriet. But at this moment in time we need you, so I’m going to let you off for the meantime. I need you to clear up this mess. Leave no traces of any of this. Do what you need to do to make this go away,’ Mr Conway says.

‘I will,’ says Miss Harriet

Mr Conway steps back behind his desk and sits back down.  Miss Harriet turns around and makes her way to the door.

‘One more thing Miss Harriet. Don’t fuck this up now, or disciplinary action will be the least of your worries’

Five

Donner Hayes is busy at work. She’s an intern at the local ER, and today seems to be a day that has her rushed off her feet, more so than usual anyway.  All sorts of people have made their way to the ER today, people suffering from aches and pains, people suffering from loss of vision, all sorts of people. The ER on Second Street in understaffed, and the staff are underpaid. Donner herself works there for more than money itself. Long hours and the pressures of the job do not equate to nine dollars fifty an hour. For her it’s more than enough, but for most people, barely scraping minimum wage wasn’t their idea of the medical industry or a long career as a health practitioner.

She hears the grumbles of the staff on a daily basis, but she doesn’t care. She knows they may moan, but once a life threatening situation arises in the hospital, its business as usual. Nine dollars fifty or not. 

Today was no exception. The staff including herself were rushed off their feet trying to figure out what’s causing the mass of patients at their usually steady ER department. Donner doesn’t busy herself with those kinds of thoughts, she’s too interested in caring for her patients. She finds herself examining a man who has the same complaint as everyone else in the Hospital.

‘I’m only twenty five years old and I feel as if I’m ninety. Come on doc, you need to hear me out. Surely you can understand. You don’t look much older than me,’ the charming man says as Donner blushes.

‘I’m sorry Mr Adams, but I’m not a doctor, I’m just an intern. My job is to help diagnose you,’ she calmly says as she steadies her eyes on her clipboard.

‘So you’re a doctor in training?’ The man asks as he starts to grow inpatient. ‘Because I’m going to need a REAL doctor, ya’ know, someone who knows what the fuck they are doing’

Donner’s eyes roll into the back of her head. She’s heard this song and dance before. Working at an inner city hospital with patients who can hardly afford their insurance let alone good manners is standard procedure in her life.

‘I’m going to have to ask you to calm down sir, and mind your tone when talking to me. I’m here to help you, not annoy you’

The man’s eyes shift to the floor as a wash of regret and embarrassment creeps over his face.

‘I’m so sorry, it’s this….damn place, it gives me the creeps, plus this stupid illness has made me into a grumpy old fart. So not only do I feel like an old man, I’m losing my mind like one too!’ The man says.

Donner sympathises with the man but cannot show much compassion just in case the guy is just an addict looking for some prescription drugs. That too is a standard procedure in her life, dealing with addicts that is.

‘What do you mean losing your mind like an old man?’

The man looks up to the ceiling fan as if he was looking for answers in its ever spinning movement.

‘I don’t know, it’s like…well I can’t really explain it. Sometimes I see this blinking red light in my left wrist, like an LED light or something. I mean, I smoke weed and that, but I’ve never seen it before. But the light is getting brighter. The first time I spotted it was six weeks ago, it was faint and irregular, now it seems as if its contributing to a disco setup or something. Like there is a rave going on in my arm, and every single waking second, the flashing gets worse, until recently, I started noticing it was creeping into my vision, so not only am I seeing it in my arm, I’m also seeing it in my eye’

Understandably, Donner is sceptical of most people’s self-diagnosed symptoms. It comes with the job, and every medial person knows to listen to what the patient is saying and then fill in the blanks. The thing with people is that they attach a certain personality to their illness and often describe it in a negative light. Now that is obviously normal, seeing most people would describe something that has been nagging at them and causing them pain as a negative thing. But most people don’t actually know what’s wrong with them. They get their selves worked up by telling other people what’s wrong and then those unqualified people tell them their penis is going to fall off for a laugh. Donner sometimes wants to be that person. The person who tells a twenty five year old man that his penis is going to fall off. Not because she wants his penis to fall off, but because she’s fed up of listening to tweekers and alcoholics complain about their self-concocted hallucinations.

‘Sounds like a case of THC overdose. Layoff the cannabis Mr Adam’s and you should be okay,’ she says with a smile on her face

The man doesn’t seem to think the situation is funny.

‘I’m serious man, you need to help me. I think this could be bad. Fucking beacons man, they know everything about us, and they are watching us!’

Donner smiles again as she leaves the room while the paranoid man continues to shout off his conspiracies. Turns out she was right; the guy must be a paranoid drug user.