Author: Alexander Fawn

It was what those in the business called a ‘job lot’.

He sometimes had work for two, but this was for three. It would be a nice little earner. He spent the usual couple of weeks watching their daily habits, making notes. The two men went first. One went off his balcony, the other tripped in his bathroom. The third, a young woman, who seemed to have very little in the way of regular activities. She was hardly ever at home in the evenings. It was apparent that she only slept there, and not every night. With this kind of target, nothing was predictable. He had spent an additional week, following her around.

He was keeping pace with her as she walked along the opposite side of the busy street when it happened. In keeping with her random and scatty nature, she suddenly stepped of the pavement into the path of an oncoming vehicle. He entered the nearest shop and stood watching the drama unfold through the front window, along with others who had heard the commotion. The traffic had backed up and both police and ambulance were attending. A paramedic was trying to resuscitate her. He finally looked up shaking his head. He took his small notebook out. Wow! What a bonus!

He opened it and crossed her off his list.

She knew that she wasn’t the most likeable person.

It was a cold night and the thin blanket that covered her, in the gap between the dumpster and the wall, just wasn’t up to the job of keeping it out. She lay there shivering and thinking. She remembered, when she was little, her father telling her that some people were simply meant to be cold. She closed her eyes, still thinking. She’d actually known that she wasn’t likeable for some time. It started at infants’ school, being rude and disrespectful to teachers, fidgeting and not listening to what she was being told, spitting, nose-picking and always eating with her mouth open seemed to come naturally to her. Fiddling with her hair, popping zits, picking scabs, belching, not flossing and poor hygiene generally, were all ongoing. Then, she supposed, being ungrateful and greedy, being defiant, together with outright lying and cheating came a little later. She knew her thoughts were rambling.

She squirmed and thought about all the bullying, biting fingernails, swearing, picking fights and telling other people’s secrets became the norm. Even later came spending too much time on social media, along with occasions of overly affectionate displays in public. There was a time of constantly checking her mobile phone without regard for others, eating much too much fast food, drinking far too much alcohol, spending endless hours on video games, obsessively snacking, staying up late, sleeping-in and never being on time. There was talking loudly during movies, exaggerating, eavesdropping, being argumentative, all with the result of annoying other people, overspending and maxing out on all of her credit cards.

The rambling continued. She remembered how she had continually argued with her parents and eventually got thrown out. She had upset every boy she’d ever had a date with and she could never hold down a job. She pondered the idea that it was totally inevitable that she should wind up on the street as a vagrant, begging for money and sleeping rough.

She adjusted her blanket.

Somehow, she thought, there was some sort of balance to all this. Some kind of unavoidable, fundamental principal at play.

She sighed and smiled softly when she considered her one saving grace…

She had never really liked anybody…

You could say that the place was in the middle of nowhere.

The cottage was in a dead end road that was hardly used, especially during the low season. It was more of a lane really, tucked away in the countryside. It contained just half a dozen holiday homes, three on one side, and three on the other. They were simple dwellings, nothing glamorous, rented out to those who wanted to get away from it all. That night he had driven there from work and was checking through the rooms, making sure everything was as it should be. When the weather improved he would be renting it out again. It was a cold night, but he wasn’t about to use the heating as he wouldn’t be there very long. In fact, he had almost finished his inspection when he heard it. It was a distant crackling sound.

He moved to the front and peered through the window. The pretty little cottage opposite was on fire. An orange glow was flickering behind the curtains and some smoke was visible. He knew the owner. He was sure he wasn’t there as there was no sign of him when he arrived an hour earlier. The sound of it was growing louder. He ran back through the house and into the garden. Knowing how poor the signal was, and having discovered that it was better at the back, he stood holding up his mobile phone. He had all the local emergency numbers. He was squinting at the screen, looking for the bars. Nothing! He began walking around, looking for a good spot.

As it happened, he didn’t actually like the man that owned the rental home across the road. He had been very rude to both he and his wife recently. It was all rather nasty. The four of them, the two couples, had literally bumped into each other in a shop in the local town. The long and the short of it being the fact that the man and his wife were snobs. Snobs, pure and simple. There was nothing more to it than that. They had been extremely rude. It had really upset his wife, but at the time he felt it best to move on and make no more out of it. He was reflecting on the incident. It was ironic that the store they were in at the time was the last in that row of shops, right next to the fire station on the corner.

As he stood, straining to see a workable signal, a cloud of dark thoughts began to work their way in. His arm was aching from holding the phone up. He lowered it and rubbed his muscles. It had been about the properties; such arrogant remarks. It was about how the front of their cottage had been repainted recently, while his was looking shabby and lowering the tone of the place. He stood for a while wondering how such a conversation could have started. He felt that he shouldn’t be thinking about these things right now. They weren’t relevant to the situation, or there again, where they? But, after all, there was the issue of a moral imperative here. He had a duty, hadn’t he?

He returned to the front and saw that the fire had taken a strong hold. It would be completely burned out long before any emergency service could get there. It was a cold night and he found himself appreciating the heat. In fact, it was a pleasant sensation, having the warmth work its way through him. He suppressed a grin. He would be leaving soon. He had mixed feelings about what had happened. There was no need for anyone to know that he’d actually been there. Even at home, there was nothing unusual about him coming home from work a couple of hours late.

By the light of the fire he glanced again at the screen.

He never could get a signal at the front.

She returned to her flat in the city after a long holiday away in a country town.

It was a lovely break, spending time on long walks and taking in nature. At the same time it was nice to be back at home again. She could stay relaxed for a couple of days before returning to work. There had been no internet connection at the cottage she’d stayed in and she was keen to get back into the old routine. She had a hobby. A costly one, but an enjoyable hobby all the same. She collected shoes. Put simply, she spent a great deal of money collecting, but hardly ever wearing, unbelievably precious shoes. The ones she liked were always expensive, but she was very much her own person. She lived alone and her job paid well. It was a luxury she could afford.

Sometimes she found really exotic pairs that were greatly reduced because the owner had changed their mind about them. She had come across some amazing bargains that way. Because so many of them were so luxuriously classy she only wore them out on special occasions. Most of what she had collected were bought over the internet, on a site she had found that specialised in preowned luxury clothing, including shoes.

Naturally, as soon as she had unpacked she made a beeline for her favourite items. When she opened her computer she found that it only had a temporary site displayed, as the regular interactive site was currently offline while maintenance on it was being carried out and bugs were being fixed. Although disappointed, she decided to spend time perusing the photos that were available. This alone would be enjoyable, having been deprived of the pleasure of drooling over such beautiful merchandise for so long.

She began with the individual displays of single pairs. After several minutes she was surprised to see a particular pair of shoes. In a way, she was horrified. Unless she had it wrong. What she was looking at was a pair that would have to be one of the most expensive in her entire collection. They were purchased some time ago when she’d received a very generous bonus from her company. She had never divulged what she paid for them. They were originally owned by an Arabian princess who had them made for her for some special occasion, but for private reasons no longer wanted them. They were handmade for her and were absolutely unique!

Realising that she must be mistaken and she was obviously looking at either a copy of the originals or simply a pair that looked incredibly like the originals. She moved on to the collections. It was there that she found a picture of a number of shelves inside a cupboard that contained several rows of lavishly exclusive shoes. The photograph she was confronted with looked remarkably like the cupboard in her bedroom.

She immediately jumped up and using the key she kept in her purse went through to her room. She didn’t need the key. The cupboard sat partly open. Swinging the door back, she found it empty.

Let’s just say… she was awfully annoyed.

The first time he saw the new lady bank teller he was smitten.

It was only by chance that he’d called in that afternoon. He’d been visiting his uncle for lunch. His route home took him right passed the bank. He had popped in quickly to do a bit of banking when it happened. All of a sudden, there he was, looking at this goddess. A true Goddess here on Earth. He had never seen such a beautiful woman. He left the building in a daze. He wanted to go back in, just to look at her, but managed to pull himself together. He would find a reason to come back… tomorrow.

That night he dreamt about her.

The following day found him standing outside with several customers, waiting for the bank to open. When he went in, he ended up behind three other people queueing at her counter. After what seemed to be forever, the large man in front of him moved away.

He stood, frozen, transfixed; unable to move.

She smiled and said, “Good morning. How can I help you today?”

He gazed at her. The first thing he noticed was that one of her teeth was crooked, then he saw the mole on her chin, then he noted the fact that one earlobe was larger than the other, and the fact that the end of her nose was much too pointy. He was counting her pimples when she repeated, “Sir, how can I help you?”

As he left the bank, thoroughly baffled and disappointed, he thought back to lunch with his uncle and his homemade elderberry wine.

Who would have thought that just two glasses could have done that!

It started before he was born.

His mother was eight weeks pregnant with him when she tumbled backwards down the escalator at the shopping centre. When he was a toddler, he managed to get hold of the plastic bag the shopping came home in. He was pulling it over his head when his mother screamed and took it away from him. There was the time he swallowed one of his plastic building blocks. There was another time when his mother saw him reach up for the handle of the saucepan that was boiling potatoes at the time. His mother caught him one day trying hard to push a metal nail file into a power socket. Of course, there was the time he fell into his uncle’s swimming pool. He was floating face down when they found him. It took a while to resuscitate him. Then, there was the day his father found him playing with his old service revolver. He was holding it up, peering down the barrel when his father came into the room.

Of course, there were numerous incidents, like falling out of bed, cutting himself on a tin opener, hitting his head on a cupboard door, burning his fingers when playing with matches, drinking paint stripper and setting light to his pajamas.

Somehow, he managed to survive all these.

That’s why it was so unexpected, when he stepped out in front of the truck.

The woman looked at the unwanted child with a kindly smile. He began to cry.

As a nurse, this was not a new situation for her, but it moved her every time. The baby had been found in a cardboard box with a dirty blanket tucked around his tiny body. A passer-by had seen it on the steps of a church and reported it. He would be well cared for here. He would, of course, grow up as an orphan. He would go into foster care. None of these went well. He was moved around from one to another, never being really wanted, never really loved.

He was fifteen when he managed to escape yet another unhappy foster home and dropped out of the system. He managed to stay under the radar and made his way by begging on the streets.

At the age of seventeen he found work with a criminal gang. It paid well and gave him a roof over his head.

At the age of twenty he met a girl. She became pregnant and they married.

At the age of twenty-two his cheating wife left him with another man and took their child with her.

At the age of twenty-four, the gang he’d been working for was broken up by police raids, along with several arrests.

At the age of twenty-five, the drinking had got the better of him and he was an alcoholic.

Finally, at the age of forty-three, after years of walking the streets, after suffering several bouts of sickness, after a life of begging, of continually moving from town to town, he was truly homeless. He had no prospects. He’d been moved on from his recent sleeping place behind the bins at the rear of a service station by an angry manager who reported him to the police.

Two nights later, a policewoman found him, shivering beneath a filthy blanket. “Come on, you can’t sleep here,” she said, with a kind voice. “Let’s see if we can’t get you into the homeless shelter.”

She thought she would have seen enough of these cases to feel less emotional about their plight, but it always affected her the same way. After all, he was just another human being down on his luck. They made their way through town until they entered the warmth of the building. They waited for someone to come to the front desk.

The woman looked at the unwanted man with a kindly smile. He began to cry.

The man reached across his desk and picked up the phone.

He’d been sitting, waiting for his visitor for several minutes. His excitement, if that’s what it was, was definitely building. He just couldn’t wait any longer. He punched in a couple of numbers. Two floors below, in the laboratory, a researcher picked up.

The caller said, “It’s bubonic plague!”

There was a long silence at the other end, followed by, “You have to be kidding!”

“No. That’s what it is,” he replied.

“You’re sure, are you?”

“I am. I have the whole thing laid out. I was expecting you five minutes ago.”

“Yes, sorry. Just had to finish something here. I’ll be right up.”

The man put the phone down and sat looking down at the results. He had mixed feelings about how they’d found the answer. It would have been revealed earlier if not for a mistake. A simple one, but a mistake, nevertheless. He heard steps approaching from the hall. The man in a white lab coat came in carrying a small plastic box. He took a seat across from his colleague, saying, “This would have to be one of the hardest nuts we’ve ever had to crack.”

The other man smiled triumphantly. “Yes. I agree, but there was an error you see.”

The visitor opened the container and took out a sandwich. “An error?” he asked.

“Yes,” the man said, shaking his head.

“Are you certain about this?” the visitor asked, taking a bite of his sandwich, “I’ve looked back over my own copy, and the results for twelve would definitely have to conflict with what you’re saying.”

The man beckoned, saying, “I’ll show you.”

The visitor went around the desk.

“Here we are,” said the man, “Seven down, thirteen letters, right?”

“Right.”

“OK. Thirteen letters, two words, seven and six letters, ‘bubonic plague’.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, because twelve across was wrong. That should have been ‘union’.

The visitor stood staring at it for a while, then said, “Ah! Got it. Well done!”

He dropped a piece of sandwich into his lunchbox and picked it up. He moved towards the door. “Better get back; getting busy down there.”

“OK,” said the man, with a satisfied smile.

As he left, the other said, “Same time tomorrow.”

The man, still gazing down at the crossword, stuck his thumb up.

He looked into the blueness of her eyes.

His pulse was racing. He felt sure hers was beating in unison with his own. It had always been this way, ever since that magic moment when he first saw her. He stroked away a stray wisp of golden hair and she smiled. He breathed in deeply, taking in the exotic perfume.

He knew theirs would be a wonderful future. They had talked about it often enough and had so many plans worked out. It was as though these expectations alone would maintain their bond of love. They were both so excited about what lay ahead for them.

He took her delicate hand and kissed her gently on the cheek. He said, “Sleep well my angel,” and carefully laid the Barbie doll back into the bed in the pretty little Barbie house.

His mother, looking on, whispered to her husband, “I don’t care what you say, I’m really worried about him!”

He was on his way home when he first saw them.

They were charred bodies scattered along the path. Although barely recognisable, that’s what they were. It was a hot day and the sun was fierce, but that didn’t explain what he was witnessing. There were so many of them that he felt he should begin a count. He suddenly stopped dead, the counting forgotten. Up ahead, he was amazed to see a great beam of light coming down from somewhere above. He had never seen anything like it and immediately left the track and began to make his way forward using the cover of the verge-side undergrowth. As he came closer, he saw a great giant of one of those creatures he had come to know about. Some of them could be wicked. This one was probably a boy. He was grinning, holding a large magnifying glass and directing the sun’s rays down upon some of his kind.

He being a bulldog ant, arguably the most dangerous ant in the world, who when attacking uses both his sting and jaws simultaneously, and knocking up a number of recorded fatalities, rightly considered that climbing onto the enormous shoe and working his way up the ankle until he came to bare flesh would be the way to go.

He reckoned that several good bites should do the job.