The Dystopiaville Omnibus: A Dystopian Sci-Fi Horror Collection Read online

  But he kept going.

  He forced a big enough gap in between the branches. Then, his face and hands bloody with the effort, he squeezed through to the other side.

  Morgan ran past the trees, stumbling onto the road like a blind drunk approaching the dance floor.

  He fell over. His bleeding face was pressed flat against the asphalt. His eyes were closed and he pounded a tired fist off the road.

  This wasn’t over. He had to get up and keep moving, but his body could go no further.

  End of the road.

  Morgan felt like he was floating inside a bad dream and this was the moment he was supposed to wake up. Just before Silentia crept up from behind and put a bullet in his head.

  Damn, he’d given them a good run.

  He heard footsteps approaching.

  “Hold it right there,” a man’s voice said. “No sudden movements mister, okay?”

  A pause.

  The same voice continued. “Now I want you to listen to me – I want you to lift both arms and put them on your back, fingers interlocked. Do you understand?”

  Morgan slowly put his arms on his back, interlocked his fingers as instructed. It was only when he heard the metal cuffs around his wrists snap shut that he finally lifted his head off the road.

  A policeman was standing over him.

  There was a look of shock on the man’s face. Morgan could only imagine how bad he must have looked, especially after his tussle with Silentia and the green desert.

  The policeman patted him down for weapons.

  Morgan blinked, not quite able to believe his eyes.

  “This is a dream,” he said. “This has to be a dream.”

  Then he burst out laughing.

  “Just stay right there,” the policeman said. “Still now, keep still, don’t move.” He barked out a series of nervous commands. This was clearly a little fish swimming in big waters. Country police, more used to solving small-time neighbourhood disputes than he was apprehending escaped murderers. The man was about twenty-five. There was a tuff of blondish-brown fluff hanging over his lip that he’d no doubt claim was a moustache.

  Morgan was about to say something when he noticed an object in the distance. How could he have missed it? Something that big. It was lying in a ditch about a hundred feet down the road, close to a sharp bend.

  The upturned prison van.

  “Oh Jesus,” Morgan said. “Honey, I’m home.”

  Somebody else appeared beside the van. An older man approached Morgan and the policeman. His walk was slow and staggered, like he was trying to mask a limp.

  “Morgan?” Thompson said, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. “Is that you?” His face was still bloody after the crash, as well as the beating that Morgan had put on him.

  The prison guard shook his head.

  “What in the name of hell happened to you?” he asked. “You look like shit. Well whatever it was, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer scumbag.”

  “How you doing Thompson?” Morgan said. “How’s the head?”

  Thomson scowled. “I asked you a question Morgan. What happened to you? Where have you been?”

  Morgan looked over at the van. He wondered if the driver’s drunken corpse was still in the cab? Poor, stupid bastard.

  “It’s him?” the policeman asked Thompson. “This is definitely Carter Morgan? You’re sure about that?”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a moron officer,” Thompson snapped. “Please. I might have taken a bump to the head today – several bumps – but I never forget a murdering sack of shit when I see one. Especially one who only recently used my face as a punch bag.”

  “C’mon man,” Morgan said. “It was nothing personal.”

  Thompson frowned. “What’s more personal than getting punched in the face?”

  Morgan was about to respond but something cut him off. He’d heard something, a sudden noise at his back.

  It sounded like someone stepping over a pile of twigs.

  “No,” he said. “Oh God, no.”

  With his stomach flat on the road, Morgan twisted his head back as far as he could. He could just about see the hedge.

  “Oh Jesus,” he said. “We have to go.”

  “What’s he looking at?” Thompson asked.

  “I don’t know,” the policeman replied. “Look at his face though, for the love of God. He’s not laughing anymore is he? It’s like he’s seen a ghost or something over there.”

  “Can I stand up?” Morgan said.

  “What?”

  “For Christ’s sake, can I stand up? NOW! They’re coming for me Thompson, they’re coming right now! They’ll kill you too, both of you.”

  Thompson’s grizzled old face was bruised and bloody. But his eyes were crystal clear. He took a look around and then turned his attention back to Morgan. “Have you lost your mind?” he said. “There’s nothing out there.”

  Morgan climbed onto his knees. The pain circulating around his body was intense but he fought through it, pushing himself back onto his feet.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Thompson asked.

  “I have to get out of here man.”

  “Easy,” the policeman said. His Glock pointed at Morgan’s chest. Morgan noticed the man’s arm shaking and guessed he didn’t draw his pistol often around here. “What’s going on?”

  “You don’t hear them?” Morgan said.

  “Hear who?” Thompson said. “Are you trying to pull something on us Morgan? If this is a trick I swear to God I’ll…”

  Thompson reached for his empty holster.

  “Son of a bitch. Where’s my gun Morgan?”

  “We need to get out of here,” Morgan said, staring at the hedge. “C’mon for Christ’s sake. You don’t know what’s out there.”

  “It’s not a trick,” the policeman said. “Look at his face. The man’s terrified.”

  “You don’t know him like I know him,” Thompson said. “Even with his hands cuffed this guy’s a menace.”

  Morgan limped towards the prison van. He didn’t care that there was a gun on him. Let them shoot him if they wanted. As he walked, his eyes lingered on the green desert, waiting for his enemy to emerge from the silence.

  “Where’s he going?” Thompson asked.

  The policeman shrugged. “Looks like he’s going to the van.”

  Morgan slid to the ground, his back pushed up against the roof of the upturned Sprinter. He sighed. His leg wouldn’t take him any further.

  He sat there, staring wide-eyed into the distance.

  Waiting.

  But Silentia never came.

  Instead, a flock of sirens blared their way down the country roads. A parade of blazing blue and red flashing lights appeared. Seconds later, about a dozen police cars and two meat wagons pulled into the side of the road. City police.

  An ambulance followed.

  “About bloody time,” the young policeman said, approaching the first police car. There was intense relief on his face.

  Morgan smiled. He closed his eyes while the cops shuffled back and forth, taking stock of the situation. Now he understood about those Silentia cars he’d seen speeding away earlier. Reggie had received a tip. The crash had been discovered and City police were already on their way up to the site. The twelve shooters on Morgan’s tail must have heard the news too, otherwise they’d have followed him onto the road and executed him. Didn’t matter that Thompson and the young policeman were there. Both would have been considered expendable in the circumstances.

  Neither of those two men would ever know how close they’d come to Silentia that day.

  Coloured lights flashed endlessly.

  Thompson was explaining to someone about the events of the crash, Morgan’s escape, and his strange return.

  Morgan watched as the body of the van driver was taken away in the ambulance.

  He sat on the road, supervised by two sullen-looking armed officers. He longed to go back inside the p
rison van, shut the door and crank out the tunes all over again. Run it back. Megadeth, Slayer, Iron Maiden and all the rest. He asked the cops if he could but they wouldn’t let him.

  Eventually the two officers scooped Morgan up off the road and dragged him into the back of one of the meat wagons.

  The cops were rough with him. Didn’t matter. Opportunity knocked for Carter Morgan and it would go like this: he’d be hauled into the nearest police station and locked up until the prison authorities arranged a new transport vehicle to take him to the City Prison. Might take a day, maybe two. In the meantime he’d be questioned about what happened while he was on the loose. Where did he go? What did he do? Who did he see? That’s when the police would start playing nice because Morgan had a big fat juicy story to tell them. And what a story it was. He had information that the highest level of law enforcement would kill their mothers to get a hold of.

  He had Silentia.

  He had Reggie Ward by the balls.

  Morgan sat alone in the back of the meat wagon. Grinning.

  It was like being back in juvie all over again. About winning respect from his peers. This time however, it wouldn’t be the other cons kissing Morgan’s backside as he made his way up the ladder to glory.

  It would be the cops.

  Chapter 15

  The tyres screamed as the black SUV skidded off the country road and raced towards the white farmhouse.

  “Fern!” a voice yelled.

  The vehicle screeched to a halt a few feet from the old building. With the engine still running, the driver’s door flew open. Reggie Ward leapt out of the SUV like his seat was on fire. He ran towards the house.

  Terri and Ellie were right behind him.

  Reggie wrestled a set of keys from his pocket. When he found the right one he shoved the key into the lock and then he hesitated.

  He felt like he was about to throw up.

  Reggie barged the door open and the Wards spilled into the downstairs hallway.

  “FERN!” Terri yelled, running ahead of Reggie. “Are you in here? FERN!”

  “Fern!” Ellie called out.

  Terri bolted upstairs while Ellie lingered at the front door, keeping watch as she’d been instructed to do. Meanwhile Reggie walked down the hall, tentatively approaching the cupboard under the stairs.

  He stopped.

  The door was wide open. It was empty inside.

  Of course Reggie had known that the cupboard was empty long before walking into the house. He knew that Morgan was loose. Carl’s phone call had made sure of that.

  But seeing it was different.

  Terri’s footsteps thundered back and forth upstairs, running from bedroom to bedroom. It sounded like a baby elephant was loose inside the house.

  “FERN!”

  Reggie stared hypnotically into the cupboard. The empty chair sitting there, the Kevlar rope curled up on the floor – these things were props in Reggie’s worst nightmare. The small brass padlock hung off the bolt and as he’d suspected it was undamaged. Not a scratch on it. All in all, the evidence was clear. The door hadn’t been kicked off at the hinges and Carter Morgan, escapee extraordinaire that he was, hadn’t performed any miracles.

  “Why?” he whispered. “Why.”

  Even though Reggie was standing two hundred feet above sea level it felt like he was drowning.

  Whoever opened that door had a key.

  “Dad?” Ellie said. “What’s going on? Did she…?”

  Reggie looked at his daughter. Before he could answer, Terri hurried back downstairs. She ran down the hall to Reggie, staring at him with haunted eyes. Reggie’s wife was slipping away to a dark place. He thought she’d aged ten years in the past hour alone.

  “She’s not here,” Terri said. She came forward, tugging on Reggie’s arm like a child demanding attention. “She’s not here!”

  She froze.

  “Reggie?” she said. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What is it? Tell me for God’s sake.”

  “You know what,” Reggie said through clenched teeth.

  “No. No I don’t.”

  A pause.

  ‘She let him go,” Reggie said. “Our daughter let Morgan out of the cupboard.”

  Terri’s eyes bulged in horror. Letting go of Reggie’s arm she backed off down the hall to where Ellie was standing at the door.

  She shook her head.

  “We DO NOT know that,” she said.

  “Yes we do,” Reggie hissed. His body was shaking and whatever outburst was coming, he couldn’t stop it. Didn’t want to stop it. “Look around you Terri and stop being such a fucking idiot. Do you see any sign of a struggle here? Do you? The door isn’t damaged and neither is the padlock. Somebody let him go and we both know who it was. Don’t we?”

  Terri gnawed on her bottom lip.

  “She’s our daughter. She wouldn’t do that to us.”

  “She betrayed us,” Reggie said. “And worse, she betrayed the cause.”

  There was a feverish glint in Terri’s eyes. “There has to be some other explanation for all this. And Fern will tell us what happened when we find her. We have to find her Reggie.”

  “Find her?” Reggie said. “Are you serious?”

  “Find her now!” Terri screamed. “NOW!”

  Ellie crept down the hall, as silent as a mouse.

  “We have to wipe things down first,” she said. “Remember? We don’t know if Fern did it before she...”

  “To hell with that,” Terri said, barging past Ellie on her way to the door. She stormed out of the house and a second later Reggie heard her getting into the car.

  He exchanged tense looks with Ellie.

  “Time to go,” he said.

  A minute later they were all in the car again. The farmhouse was locked up.

  Reggie was back behind the wheel, staring through the windscreen in a daze. Terri was in the passenger seat. Ellie was alone in the back.

  “We need to go,” Reggie said.

  Terri was as stiff as a mannequin. “We need to find Fern.”

  “Do you realise what she’s done to us?” Reggie said, keeping his eyes on the farmhouse as he spoke. “She let Morgan go and Morgan knows. He knows. He knows the names we use, about this house and that we’ve got something very big coming up. A savage like that, he won’t escape the police for long. And even if he does he’ll call them up and tell them everything just to spite me. That’s what I’d do if the shoe was on the other foot.”

  Reggie slammed his swollen fist into the steering wheel.

  “We have to evacuate. Starting tonight.”

  The light in Terri’s eyes dimmed, like two candles snuffed out.

  “No,” she whispered. “It hasn’t come to that. Not yet.”

  “We can’t evacuate!” Ellie said springing forward like a jack-in-the-box. “Please, I don’t want to start over again.”

  Reggie adjusted the rearview mirror. He saw the reflection of his worried daughter staring back at him.

  “You’ve done it before Ellie,” he said. “New home, new identity, new names – you don’t have to worry about a thing. It’s all taken care of. Marjory Baker had to make sacrifices for the cause didn’t she?”

  Ellie flopped back into her seat. “Yeah,” she said. “And look what happened to her in the end.”

  “Reggie…”

  Terri was like a ghost. She was staring blank-eyed at the empty house.

  “What about Fern?” she asked.

  “She betrayed us,” Reggie said. “You know what that means as well as I do.”

  Terri shrunk back into her sear. “What are you saying?” she cried out. Her eyes were ablaze. “Are you talking about…?”

  Reggie answered, eventually.

  “No. I suppose not.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Terri buried her face in her hands. Then she looked up, shifting her body towards Reggie.

  “If we evacuate,” she said. “
If we stop being the Wards and disappear altogether then she’ll never find us. Never.”

  “Don’t be stupid Terri,” Reggie scolded. “She doesn’t want to find us. And I sure as hell don’t want to find her either. Fern Ward’s dead. She died here tonight as far as I’m concerned.”

  Terri’s mouth hung open.

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “But what if Morgan did something to her?” Terri said. “Have you thought about that? What if he hurt her after she let him go?”

  “Then she’d still be here,” Reggie said, not looking at his wife. “He didn’t have time to dispose of a body. And he didn’t have time to tie her up and hide her somewhere else. Morgan was running for his life. Remember? Now I think we’d better get going. We’ve got a lot to do when we get home.”

  “Wait.”

  Terri slowly reached over and stroked Reggie on the cheek. “We can’t just pretend she never existed.”

  Reggie pushed his wife’s hand away.

  “You should be grateful I’m not sending Joseph after her,” he said. “What’s the matter with you Terri? You know the discipline. Don’t you believe in what we’re doing anymore?”

  Terri didn’t answer.

  Reggie lowered the handbrake and turned the SUV around in the driveway. They drove in silence, and it was a long time before anyone spoke.

  “Dad,” Ellie said, tapping him on the shoulder.

  “What honey?”

  “It’s okay if we have to evacuate.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah,” Ellie said. “Because I still believe in what we’re doing.”

  Reggie smiled at his youngest daughter in the mirror – the next Marjory Baker.

  “That’s my girl.”

  The End

  WaxWorld

  This book was born on a lazy afternoon in early 2018.