New Reality 2: Justice (35 page)

As Gina sipped on the steaming drink, she looked down at Marie's stomach. "Have you felt any movement?"

Marie's gaze dropped to the floor and she couldn't speak past the lump in her throat.
 

Gina got the hint and said, "Okay, so tell me about Doug. What happened?"

"It was a fucking disaster. I fucked up
royally.
Although, he did admit he was cutting corners."

"Cutting corners?"

"To keep the budget low."

"But how?"

"He wouldn't say, and I'm not sure I'll be able to get it out of him after what happened tonight. I'm not sure I'll even have a job to go back to on Monday."

"It was that bad? What happened?"

Although she opened her mouth to reply, exhaustion washed over Marie and she dropped her head. "I don't really want to talk about it. It's been a
long
day."

Chapter Fifty-Three

The problem with going out with Doug on a Friday night was that Marie had to wait until Monday morning to realise just how much she'd fucked up. And sometimes he didn't even turn up to work on a Monday.

The nerves and stuffy commute combined to create a potent, nauseous mix that turned her stomach inside out. So when Marie walked through the front doors of the prison, she was just about ready to puke. On her way to the bathroom, Marie had to pass Sandy, the receptionist. The mother hen of Rixon loved to be involved in everyone's business and, if the twinkle in her eye was anything to go by, it was with great pleasure that she said, "Marie, Doug wants to see you in his office before you do anything else."

Seriously? Now? What an arsehole!
A hard swallow did nothing to lower the bile lifting in her throat. Marie changed direction and headed for Doug's office. Sandy didn't get or deserve a response.

The shiny wooden door was large and imposing. Marie knocked so hard it stung her knuckles.
 

"Enter."

What a dick!

When Marie stepped into the room, she screwed her nose up at the reek of flatulence. It was as if the man permanently leaked gas like an ever-deflating bag of rancid air. The genesis of a heave stirred in the bottom of her throat and her palms started to sweat.

"Ah, Marie, Sandy told you to come and see me, I presume?"

"She did."

A quick glance at the spare seat in his office and Doug looked back at Marie without offering it to her. "What was Friday night about?" While his tone was even, his face reddened as he stared at her.

"I felt sick. I'm
really
sorry, Dougie—"

"Doug."

"Right." Marie wiped her sweating palms against her trousers and continued. "I'm really sorry, Doug, but I had to leave. It was a good job I did because I was sick everywhere when I got home." Just talking about vomiting was encouraging her churning gut to reject its contents.

"Then
why
are you in today?"

"I think it was more to do with the amazing food you bought for me." With her hand on her stomach—having still not felt a kick—she said, "I'm not used to such luxury. You treated me a little
too
well, I think." She forced a smile.

At that moment, Doug dropped his eyes to his desk and twirled a pen between his fingers. "I'm not sure I need you for the rest of this week."

A jolt ran through Marie's chest. She'd still not found anything incriminating. "Why don't you need me?"

Doug examined his fingernails. "Dunno, just not sure we need another worker in the control room."

The temperature of the room seemed to rise by a few degrees. A tug on her collar did nothing to make her feel better and Marie gulped a mouthful of the stale air.
Why was she so foolish to think she had control over this relationship? Why didn't she play it smarter?

"I think I have to question if I can trust you on my staff."

"Trust me? Of
course,
you can trust me. If this is because of Friday night, then I'm sorry, I truly am, but I didn't want to vomit all over you. That would hardly be attractive, now would it?"

A slight pause and Doug looked up at her again, hope in his eyes. "I suppose you're right."

The thing about Doug was he always took the opportunity to save his precious ego. Give him a chance to not feel like a prick and he'd take it with both hands. "I
am
right. Please give me another chance. Let's go out again. I'll show you the best time you've
ever
had. I was so sad about how Friday turned out."

It was only when Doug lifted it up that Marie noticed the sandwich on his desk. After he'd taken a bite, a trace of mayonnaise remained at the corner of his mouth. It looked like pus. "So you actually want to go out with me again?"

The nod she replied with had maybe a little too much enthusiasm, and Marie forced the biggest smile she could muster.
Better to be too keen than not keen enough.
"Of course, only if you'll have me on another date, that is?"

The anger was melting before her eyes. Behind his rage was the panic of a fat little boy who clearly still believed he would never get a date; the boy who—no matter who he asked—would always arrive at the prom alone.

When Doug took another bite of the sandwich, Marie got a whiff of the prawns inside it. Imaging the metallic taste of bad seafood, she turned to look at the door.
How much longer did he want her for?

A creak sounded out as Doug stretched back in his seat, and his shirt came untucked in the process. It was hard to ignore the exposed strip of flesh. It was covered with the angry red scratches of stretch marks. After rubbing what was clearly a sweaty belly, Doug stuck his fat fingers in his mouth to pick the food from between his teeth and burped. This was a man in control of the situation. He was a man who suddenly didn't give a fuck about how he came across because Marie was in his pocket.

With sweat standing out on her back, Marie covered her mouth as if it would calm her sickness.
Was he trying to make her feel worse?
"Can I go now please, Doug? I need to use the bathroom."

The last of Doug's irritation melted from his face and he made a gun with his fingers. "We'll sort our next date out soon then. Don't go changing, darling."

Without replying, Marie rushed out and raced towards the bathroom, her heavy bag swinging from her shoulder as she ran.

***

Another heave made Marie's eyes water so badly she could barely see where she was going. It stung her foot when she kicked the heavy door open and rushed into the bathroom.
 

Except, it wasn't the bathroom… The nausea left her as she looked around.
Where was she?

The walls were made from unfinished concrete. It looked like a maintenance corridor. The air was cool against her hot skin, but it carried a strange smell. It was damp, but there was something beneath the mossy reek of rot.
 

There was a bend in the corridor that she couldn't see around.
Should she just go back to the toilet? What was she even doing here?

A glance at the door she'd just walked through and Marie scratched her face.
No, she had to see where this corridor led.
She bit her bottom lip and held her breath as she listened for people. There were none; or at least none that she could hear. She took a deep breath and walked farther along the corridor.

After three sharp turns, Marie found herself in a huge, open space and the smell beneath the damp hit her with both barrels. The fetid, muddy reek of human waste hung so heavy in the air she could virtually see it.

A sharp contortion and her stomach flipped. The thick paste, which was previously her breakfast, burned as it rose up her throat and her mouth stretched wide as she vomited on the floor. The wet pattering rang out in the cavernous space.

Seconds later, another wave flipped through her and she was sick again.

While wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve, Marie rested her hands on her knees and took her first proper look at the room. She stood up straight again and her jaw fell open. With wide eyes, she scanned her surroundings. "Oh. My. God!"

Chapter Fifty-Four

Marie froze as she stood before the lavish black door trimmed with brass filigree. An estate rat shouldn't be here, even if it was the house of her best friend—her only friend, in fact—but this was too important for her to leave now. She'd already spent the entire day keeping it to herself; there was no way she could go home tonight and not share it with another human being.

She looked behind her. There was no one around. No one had worked out what she'd seen yet, and why would they? She hadn't revealed it yet. It was another reason why she couldn't go home. If they found her now, before she'd made a copy of this stuff… Well, that just couldn't happen. This was the chance she'd been waiting for and she wasn't going to fuck it up.

Marie knocked on the door and then looked around, chewing the inside of her mouth. "Come on, Gina, hurry up." When Gina answered the door, she was dressed in just a nightie; her perfectly toned legs poking out from the bottom of what was essentially an oversized T-shirt.
 

Not waiting to be invited in, Marie stepped into Gina's house.

Like the owner, Gina's house smelled of fresh flowers. Everywhere was white. The walls, worktops, every appliance in the kitchen; even the carpet and sofa were white. It was Doug's hotel room all over again, except there was a lot more class in this joint. Maybe it was just because of the occupant.

When she went to slip her shoes off, Gina raised a halting hand. "No need to do that, honey."

Before Marie spoke, she walked over to the window. It was still quiet outside. She was definitely being paranoid; although a little paranoia may not be a bad thing—especially now, with what she had in her bag.

"Are you all right, Marie?"

Marie looked at Gina. "Sorry, I'm worried about being followed."

"Do you have any reason to believe you're being followed?" An undercurrent of anxiety ran through Gina's words.

Marie shook her head again. No one knew what she had on her. But they would soon enough.

When Gina rested a warm hand on the top of her arm, her eyebrows lifted in the middle. "I'm
worried
about you; you're not making sense. Shall we go and sit down in the front room?"

Marie nodded.

"Would you like a drink?"

A glance outside again and Marie said, "No, I'm fine, thank you."

After following Gina into the front room, she sat down on the soft sofa. It was only then she noticed the classical music. So low in volume, it hummed through the white speakers mounted on the walls, whispering serenity in the Zen space. Marie pointed at the white sheet hanging on the wall. "Can you take that off the television please?"

For a moment, Gina hesitated and watched her friend. She then shrugged and did as she was asked.
 

Marie pulled her phone from her bag and pressed her fingerprint against the screen to unlock it. After pairing it with Gina's television, she sent the first photo across with a flick of her finger.

It wasn't the clearest picture, so it was understandable that Gina leaned forwards and squinted at the screen. "What is it?"

"A corridor; it's a long, damp, concrete corridor."

"And why are you showing me this?"

"I was pulled in to see Doug before I could do anything this morning. I felt like shit—like I was going to puke everywhere. So after leaving Doug's office, I ran to the toilet with my bag."

"You're lucky no one saw you with it."

"I know. It meant I still had my phone on me too."

"So where did you go to get a photo of this corridor?"

"I felt so rough when I was running to the toilet that I went through the wrong door. I ran into the cleaning cupboard."
 

"The one on the ground floor?"

"Yep. Someone must have left it open by mistake. Although it's not a cleaning cupboard, as you can see." Just looking at the picture brought the smell of the place back to Marie and she scrunched her nose up. "It
stank,
Gina, and with how sick I felt, I nearly turned around and left. I'm glad I didn't."

The next image Marie flicked across onto Gina's screen was a right-angle bend in the corridor. "After a couple of turns like this one, it came out to this."

Another flick and the screen filled with an image of a vast open space of warehouse proportions.

Gina's jaw dropped. "How do they manage to hide something this big in the building?"

"I know; nuts, isn't it?"

Gina continued to frown. "What's that at the far end? Dirty sheets or something?"

The next photo was a zoomed in image of where Gina was pointing.
 

Gina gasped. "Fuck."

The next image showed hundreds of bodies stacked one on top of the other. "I told you something wasn't right."

"I believed you, honey."

"This is where all of the missing prisoners are. There are hundreds of them." Marie put another photo up showing more of the same. The stacked bodies all wore black Rixon headsets.

"So, what, they have a warehouse full of people piled one on top of the other?"

"Yeah. The bodies are stacked about ten people high."

When Gina saw the next photo, she pointed at the image. "Why do some of them have brown uniforms and some of them white?"
 

"They all have white uniforms. Those people are the ones at the bottom." The next photo showed a concrete floor slick with what looked like mud.

Gina's voice rose in pitch. "They're
pissing
and
shitting
on one another?"

"It's vile, isn't it? I can still taste the rancid air. It feels like it's still stuck to my skin. I bet Frankie's in there."

"You didn't check?"

"You can see how many bodies there are. If I'd have stopped to check them all, I wouldn't have left Rixon with this evidence. I had to get in and out." Marie flicked the next image along. It showed all the food tubes bound together and disappearing through a hole in the wall. "It's close to the prison. I'm guessing they're all fed from the same vat of synthesised shit that Doug shows people on the tour."