Whispers Are Not What They seem
By Thomas X Veil
A weary patrolman uncovers a secret circle of women living beyond faction law. As duty collides with doubt, he is drawn into a psychological mystery where belief, obedience, and rebellion erode the fragile structures holding the town together.
Genre: Psychological Dystopian Fiction
Home > Thomas Veil > Rosecoven
Page 1
I look in the mirror, as I do every morning. Check myself out, make sure I know who they’re looking at. Chris Jenkins, 24 years and two months old, slim but strong, some would say wiry. A buzz-cut. I enjoy playing football but don’t get the chance much these days. Like heavy metal, but also some classics and pop songs. The usual shit for someone my age. My pride and joy is my car, which makes me feel independent, so I really look after it.
I’m single at the moment, but the main reason for that is any girl I like gives me grief about a) staying with my mum, and b) being a checkpoint patrolman for New Tomorrow. Got to change that! Soon! I do have this dream about someone, though. We’re always under the stars at night. She’s a bit older, and it’s a bit weird, to be honest, but she only looks deep into my eyes and smiles. Always wake up with a real morning glory, though, so she must have something.
Anyway, each day, I need to be well turned out, shaved and tidy. My uniform has to be clean and pressed. Thanks, Mum.
That’s enough self-love for this morning. Quick brekky, Mum’s made me a packed lunch. I’m on earlies this month, so a quick drive to work for a 07:00 start.
As I go out the door, I’m thinking about whether the evening courses I’m studying are worth the hassle. Too much time, too little reward. I want promotion as soon as possible. Maybe I should have a chat with Sergeant Park when we have some free time.
Maybe never then.
Parky’s OK, not like Major Blake. He’s a nightmare. Parky joined up for more or less the same reasons as me. His family thought it was better to have someone on the inside of the system and with good regular pay and benefits. Like him, I’ve lost most of my friends; they can’t handle the fact that I’m in New Tomorrow. But that’s just the way it is.
Unlike him, I never go to the pub if I can help it, but if there’s a celebration for someone at work, then we’re encouraged to take part, so I go. Don’t drink much, though.
I get in the car. Ah, my own space.
In the beginning, I found it hard trying to obey all the orders he gave me. I’m used to it now. And cos I just get on with it and do my job without complaining, he and some of the other sergeants are a bit friendlier. Sometimes, if they think I’m up to it, they’ll let me stand in for a corporal if one of them’s off sick or something. Bit weird, I can tell you, but it makes me feel really confident about my future and everything.
Here I am, just got to lock the car.
I go through my mantra. I am smart. I am clever. I am polite. I am strict. No one fucks with me, or I’ll bring them down.
I sign the register, check for any new instructions and go straight on duty, nodding to Derek that I’ll take over so he can finish his shift.
“Good morning, madam. Papers, please.” She has them ready, as most of them do, but… I have to jump back to avoid a gush of sick from her kid. “Not on my shoes, you don’t, son.” I’ll get her next time. You nearly had to do another wash, Mum.
“Good morning, sir. Papers, please. What? You’ve forgotten them. You know the drill, sir. Go over to ring number 3 and the patrolman will cuff you to it until someone brings them. Next.”
“Good morning, miss. Papers, please. Step back. Not so close, thank you, miss. Please stay behind the line. Ah, right. If you could please go over to Door 6, someone will process you for the EBI program. No, it doesn’t matter if you don’t want to. Patrolman! Take her to Door 6! Next.” She’s fuckin’ gorgeous! It’ll be quite easy for her to be a hero mother, I expect.
“Good morning, madam. Papers, please. I’m sorry to inform you that you’ve been flagged, so you’ll need to wear this badge until that flag is removed. Let me check the number …” Who’s that in line 7? There’s something about him. Fuck, he’s the spitting image of that photo I have of my dad that his mate gave me. What should I do? Fuck him. “Next.”
“Good morning, sir. Papers, please. Stay behind the line, sir. If you don’t step back, sir, you’ll be taken to Door 1. Have you been there before, sir? DOOR 1! Thanks guys, he’s fuckin’ huge, isn’t he? Next.” I hope they give him a good doing. Fuckin’ Gym Bunny.
And so it goes on.
No one really likes registering someone for drone watch. Except me, that is. I really get off on the fact that I can have someone followed, and they won’t know anything about it. I’ve become pally with the operators, so if something happens, they can give me the heads up so I can go and see what’s going on.
The other day, this woman came through the checkpoint. It was a bit odd. She seemed to hang back a bit so that it had to be me that checked her papers. I was sure I’d never seen her before in my life, but she looked familiar for some reason.
She wasn’t a Crazy; she didn’t have the wild hair and didn’t seem to be covered in all these mental tattoos that some of New Tomorrow front-line staff have.
She was just ordinary, maybe about mid-thirties or something like that. I’m shit at trying to guess women’s ages, cos you get so much shit if you’re wrong. Anyway, when she came through, all her papers were in order, but as I gave them back, rather than avoiding eye contact as most of them do, she looked me directly in the eye, smiled and said:
“You’re coming back.”
That’s what she said.
I don’t know why, I couldn’t answer. When I could, she’d gone, and someone else was waiting with their papers.
There was something about her smile.
As far as I can remember, she was called Elma something and stayed somewhere up in East Roseside, but it really stuck with me.
You’re coming back.
What the fuck! Where am I coming back from? When did I go there?
She probably needed glasses and couldn’t make out if it was me or Swanney that she wanted. He’s always been a bit weird, that Swanney.
And then it happened again. We were really busy. I didn’t notice her until I had her papers in my hand. She looked me straight in the eye, smiled and said:
“You’re in the cards. You’re a good man. You’re coming back.”
And then she was off. I must’ve given her papers back. They weren’t in my hand when I went to stop her. What cards? That smile.
Enjoying these stories? Try the book.
The thing is you get all kinds of weird fuckers going through checkpoints, but her eyes, her face, her words and her smile were all I could think about after I saw her.
My family. My mum and her brothers in particular thought I’d been smitten by some kind of wonder woman and that I’d finally get my end away and move out of the house. But they were wrong. It wasn’t like that; it was like she was stuck in my head. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see hers. Every time I thought I was going to get a little peace and quiet, all I could hear was her voice. It was driving me bananas!
And again. That time I managed to get a good look at her docs.
Elma Harrison, 32b East Roseside Hill, Rosehaven. 33 years old, single with no children. She was a carer with no affiliations to any factions, which would have been a red flag.
Again, her eyes drilled into mine. Pressing something small into my hand, she half whispered.
“Sea’s restless. Means change is near. If you need to know what happened, just come and say, I’ve been here before.”
And she was gone. I looked down. She had given me a little token engraved with a star.
What the fuck?
I thought I was going nuts. Things like that didn’t happen to me.
Why was I thinking of stars?
It was relentless. Hearing her voice. Seeing her eyes. Constantly playing with the token that was always in my pocket. What the hell was going on?
I found myself checking out where she stayed on the map. It was just an ordinary neighbourhood in an ordinary area. Nothing special.
One of the drone guys could grab some footage of it for me, but that would mean explaining about her, which would open me up for an immense slagging, especially when people found out that she was almost 10 years older than me.
*****
I asked the boys if they’d had any women say anything weird to them recently. All of them had, but no one had said anything like Elma.
I couldn’t get Elma out of my head. What was it about her? I didn’t even fancy her. I mean, at all! Maybe it was because for the first time in my life I felt different or special. I wish I knew what she meant.
Maybe there was more to life than that. Maybe if I’m special, I could get on faster and become somebody important. But I hadn’t seen her again.
I needed to.
I had Elma’s address. What kind of place was it? Where was it? Was it just a house, a shop, or …?
The problem was, I didn’t have the guts to go. I was scared someone’d see. It’d probably have been better if I could have gone there in uniform first, on official business. That way, I could check the area out for any risks or anything like that.
I needed to go.
I didn’t really want to make an excuse to patrol her area. That would have been too much. But I could have looked up her address on the database or checked her out on facial recognition.
Her and her address were flawless.
She kept coming again and again. I tried to divert her to another patrolman but couldn’t. Each time she said something it was as if she was trying to get me to give in and come.
Come where?
I had to get her out of my head and concentrate on my work
I went.
I couldn’t stand it any longer. I had to go to her. I needed to. How was I ever going to get any peace if I kept going like this? I was suffering, and my work was suffering, just ask the old guy who I’d badged the other day for taking too long to get his docs out of his pocket.
I told my mum I wouldn’t be back for dinner. Told Parky I had to leave early that evening.
I drove to East Rosehide Hill.
I drove past 32b twenty times. I didn’t have the guts to stop and knock on her door. I parked just along the road. I had a packet of crisps and a drink. I thought about what to do next.
Just as I decided to leave, there was a tap on my window. She smiled as I wound it down.
“Hi. It’s alright. I’ve been waiting for you. I knew you’d come. Come on. Come and have a cuppa.”
She turned and walked off.
I couldn’t stop myself. My heart lifted. I sprang out of the car, locked it and almost skipped after her to her front door. She opened it and we both went in.
Page 1