I had a lot of wishes.
I wished that my family had just a little more money, so that Rose could go to college.
I wished that my mom could finally find someone who really made her happy.
I wished I could've done more than trade school.
I wished that the stars would reach down and take me away.
But wishes were just that. Unanswered dreams.
"Abigail!"
I startled out of my internal monologue so hard that my hand collided with the pencil cup on the counter, causing pens to scatter all over. David was staring at me with a barely suppressed smile, clearly having been calling my name more than once. The pens are quickly collected, and the pencil cup righted by David. He was nice, nicer than I deserved, honestly. He didn't judge me for my "space-out" moments, nor did he get annoyed when I ignored him. Ignored wasn't really the right word, though. I just tended to lose interest relatively quickly…
"Sorry, David. What did you say?" The crackle in my voice evident, probably from underuse. My job, as a librarian, gave me hours of quiet in the library, so it wasn't uncommon for me to go a whole shift without talking.
Not that that was something I minded, in fact I preferred it. No one in my family knows where my introverted nature came from, seeing as my mother is rather…opinionated, and Rose could make friends with a fish. Our dad, according to mom, was outgoing as well. A businessman through and through.
So, as it happens, I became the "odd" one of the family and thus was given extra attention.
All I wanted, at a near 80% of the time, was some peace and quiet.
Another one of my wishes.
"—is totally off her rocker, but Jeff's billing skills are rubbish, so it has to be her. Who would have thought finances would be a big part of running a public library," David chuckles and glances at me. My expression must have said a lot, because he coughed awkwardly before continuing. "Anyways, your shifts been over for about 30 minutes. And Jessica didn't want to...uh-disturb you, so she asked me to let you know she's here. She's just brewing a cuppa."
Ah yes. Jessica didn't want to "disturb" me. How nice of her.
The urge to roll my eyes almost surpasses my desire to remain unaffected. In the end, I don't want David to think anything's wrong, so my eyes remain properly stationary.
"Thanks, David," I mumble, reaching under the counter to snatch my satchel, "See you tomorrow then."
He smiles, once again being too nice to me, before wishing me a good night and heading back to his office.
Rose's shift at the shop should be over in about 20, and it'll take me 5 to walk over there. Maybe we can go for chips on the way home. Rose never denies a chance to eat chips.
Rose work at a department store in the shopping district. It's always crowded, even at this time later in the evening, and I never traverse it unless I'm meeting Rose. I text her as I walk, letting her know about the chips. As expected she responds enthusiastically, spouting something about "man-hunting" while we're out. I choose to ignore that, simply because she already knows my response.
I'm just not interested in spending my time searching for Mr. Right. That's not to say that I don't want to find love, it just means that I believe there's someone out there for me and I don't need to rush them. They'll find me or I'll find them when we're meant to, and we'll go from there.
The streets are bustling with people like I predicted. I consider just heading home - large crowds make me nervous. Henrik's comes into view soon enough; the massive store looms above me like an annoying crow. I want to cringe on behalf of my sister. She absolutely hates her job, but she doesn't want to do A-Levels, or go to trade school like I did, so there aren't many places she can work with only a high school diploma.
"Hey, Tony," I greet the door guard on my way in, "I'm just here for Rose." He smiles, nodding his assent, but suddenly jerks like he remembered something.
"Oh hey! Can you take this and tell Rose to give it to Wilson before she leaves? She should be coming out of the staff lobby right about now," he asks hurriedly, reaching into his pocket to pull out a bag full of money.
"Sure. Have a good night," my lips tip up in what I hope is a friendly smile. It's not much, probably, but I have to try anyways.
Rose is as Tony said, coming out of the staff lounge with Kristi and Laura. They're having a rather intense conversation from the looks of it. Probably gossiping.
"Hey, Rose." She immediately parts from her co-workers with a smile.
"Hey! What's that?" She points to the bag in my hands and I toss it to her. She catches it easily, letting loose a groan.
"It's for Wilson, apparently," I relay.
She nods with a roll of her eyes. Common occurrence I guess.
"Yeah, Wilson's in the basement," she leads me to the lift as she explains, "and it's so creepy down there. I've told Tony a million times to stop taking the piss and just do it himself."
Her ranting makes me smile, but I don't comment past an agreeable hum. I've never been one for casual conversation, but I love to listen. Most people find my lack verbal responses awkward, and I can't really blame them. It's hard to carry on with a one-sided conversation. That's one of the best things about my sister, she's used to my silence and small responses and doesn't mind it.
She's right about the basement though. As soon as we step off the lift, I feel it. It's like we aren't supposed to be here. The yellow of the lights seems more ominous than it should, casting spindly shadows along the grey cement walls.
"Rose," I mumble, but she shouts as soon as I start, calling out Wilson's name. I follow her as she walks purposefully towards a door with Wilson's name on it. She calls to him again. No response.
She opens the door to his office slowly, cautiously. The small room is sans Wilson. My paranoia increases.
"Rose, just leave it on his desk so we can get out of here," I mumble, but once again she doesn't hear me. Or she's ignoring me. Either is a possibility. Where I'm curious for information mentally, Rose tends to be curious physically. I'd take an in-depth explanation over investigation any day.
Despite the foreboding feeling trying to crawl its way up my spine, I follow her. I'd follow her anywhere, and unfortunately for me, that's gotten me into a few unsavory situations over the years. Like when she wanted to egg her ex-boyfriend's car. I got arrested covering for Rose, and the only reason it didn't go on my record was because the officer who arrested me hated Jimmy's dad. As far as lucky moments in my life, that's about as lucky as I've ever been.
Rose and I pass through some doors into what looks like a storage area. I freeze not even ten steps into the room.
There's mannequins everywhere.
My heart stutters. Oh please, not mannequins. This is like a scene from one of my reoccurring nightmares.
"Rose," my panicked murmur doesn't reach her though, covered up by a bang that sounds from behind me. I whip my head around, running to the doors before I even knew I wanted to move, my hands desperately grasping for the handles.
They're locked. Won't budge.
I hear Rose going on about someone named Derek needing to stop mucking about. She's walking deeper into the room, unaware of my silent turmoil.
We're locked in a room. In a basement. With mannequins.
I try once again in vain to jiggle the doors open. Shakily, I shove away from them.
"Alright! I've had about enough of this now," Rose yells. I turn to her, but she's already looking at me. My feet once again move preemptively.
"Rose, the doors—" I cut myself off at the expression on her face. She's looking at something over my shoulder, confusion and fear prominent in her features. I gulp, turning my head slowly to face whatever's behind me. Please don't be an axe murderer. Please don't be an axe murderer.
My eyes rest on a mannequin. Standing in the middle of the room. In a spot that was previously empty. I suck in a sharp breath.
It moves.
"What?" My horrified whisper sounds like a gunshot in the quiet of the room. Confusion laced in the undertones. How? Is it a costume? If this is a prank (Derek?) then I don't find it amusing. Pranks don't play out this long anyways...by now the person should be taking off the costume saying "ha got you!". We begin slowly backing away from it until the feeling of cold cement hits my back. At least six more mannequins had started to move and now they were choppily advancing on us.
"This is literally my worst nightmare," I whisper. Rose glances at me briefly, concern lighting her eyes.
"Stop this! I said stop this now, it's not funny anymore!" She yells at them. The mannequin closest to us doesn't stop, instead raising its arm in a threatening movement. But it's just plastic, even if they hit us, it can't possibly hurt that much right?
My thoughts freeze. When did I start considering them to be sentient plastic, rather than the more plausible explanation of dressed up humans, like Rose obviously still thought?
Maybe I've finally lost it.
A loud yelp escapes me when a large hand suddenly grips my left one. I grab Rose's instinctively and whip around to the side to face the stranger. I'm able to register blue eyes before things get chaotic.
"Run."
The stranger yanks me after him, causing me to yank Rose, and we're off. Weaving through boxes and crates to an exit Rose and I must have missed. We pass through the doors and into a hallway. I stumble. The stranger grips my hand tighter, pulling me enough that I regain balance. I can hear the sounds of quick footsteps behind us, so I turn my head.
A horde of mannequins stampedes after us.
We reach the lift just as the mannequins start to seriously gain on us, and before the doors can completely close one of them shoves their arm through to stop the lift. The stranger lets go of my hand to wrestle with it. The loss of contact makes the little sense of calm I felt dissipate. Before I can properly analyze why the hell that was my reaction, I'm distracted by the man literally popping the mannequin's arm off.
Well. Looks like my sentient plastic theory was right. Yay.
"You pulled his arm off!" Rose shouts at the man in disbelief. He tosses her the arm and she catches it clumsily.
"Yup, plastic," the man says like it explains everything. He glances at me briefly, but I'm so caught up in my confusion and panic that I barely notice.
"Very clever, nice trick. So, what, are they students or something?"
"No," I answer Rose's question distractedly, gently taking the arm out of Rose's hands. Rose uses anger to cope a lot of the time, but I've always used my curiosity. I can feel them both looking at me, but my mind has already moved on. The excitement of discovering something so unknown starts to simmer in my mind as I inspect the arm. It's just plastic. There's no gears or anything visible in the socket, and the weight is consistent with silicon...
How can it just be plastic? How can it be sentient? Is it really alive?
"Who's Wilson?"
I tune back in at the sound of the lift doors opening, and look at the man. He was doing something to the control panel with a metal instrument the length of my hand. The blue tip glowed and made a strange noise, causing sparks to burst from the panel. Shorting it out? What was that?
"Chief electrician," Rose answers his question while covering her eyes slightly. The man pauses for barely half a second before walking forward.
"Wilson's dead."
"That's not funny! That's sick, and I've absolutely had enough. What's going on?" She yells, and I can tell she's about to go full Jackie on this stranger. I'd never met Wilson, but my heart aches for him. The best way to honor his death though, is to make sure no one else falls victim to the same fate.
"What are they?" I ask the man lowly, coming to walk next to him. He looks down at me as he answers.
"Living plastic. They're being controlled by a relay device on the roof," he answers me. Before he can continue I lift up the arm and shake it for emphasis on my next words.
"There are no gears, or anything metal for that matter, on the arm. So, even if they were being controlled it can't be electronically. Also, the movements were too fluid. You said "living" which would make sense, actually, because of what I just said, but it's...there's just...I mean how—"
"Abby, stop," Rose snaps. I snap my mouth shut and shrink back, not even realizing that I'd started to raise my voice in excitement. My face burns with shame. A man died and I'm getting excited about the thing that killed him.
I can feel the man's eyes on me, but refuse to look up, choosing instead to fiddle more with the arm.
"The relay would be a great big problem, if I didn't have this!" The man continues, ignoring my rant, and pulling out what I can only assume is a bomb from his jacket pocket. "So I'm gonna go upstairs, and blow it up. Now, I might well die in the process, but don't you girls worry about that."
My eyes widen, and I catch his as he opens the alley door, shaking my head in a gesture I hope says don't do it. He just smiles and winks at me, gesturing for us to go on out.
"Now go on home and have your lovely beans on toast. And don't tell anybody about what you saw, cause if you do, you'll get them killed."
And with that he shuts the door.
I turn to Rose. Still cradling the arm. Confusion almost literally pouring off of me. She looks just as stumped as I am, if not more. I open my mouth - to say what, I don't know - but before the words can come out the door behind me reopens. I whip back around.
"I'm the Doctor, by the way. What're your names?"
"Rose," she answers immediately. I hesitate, but the expectant look on the Doctor's face makes me concede.
"Abigail," I mumble, and the Doctor smiles.
"Nice to meet you. Now, run for your lives!" He exclaims jovially, once again closing the door with a resounding bang. I waste no time hoofing it away, having to run back to Rose, who's too confused to even move at first. We make it a block away before Henrik's explodes. Rose and I exchange disbelieving and worried looks. He actually had a bomb!
"Come on," I grab Rose's hand, "let's leave before the authorities get here."
Mom's already heard about it when we finally walk through the front door. She tackles us in a hug, tears running down her face. We stay like that for a bit, until the house phone rings, pulling our mother quickly from our arms. Immediately after answering she starts going off about compensation. I slip past her and Rose with a resigned chuckle. That's Jackie for you. The TV is already on in the living room, switched to a news channel with an Asian woman giving coverage on the fire. I flop carelessly down onto the couch and turn the volume up.
"Fire crew are still working to suppress the fire, but they say there's no saving the structure…"
Rose plops down on the couch next to me, taking the arm from my grasp, which I completely forgot I was holding.
"Bloody insane, this is," she grumbles, tossing the arm onto the love seat. Right you are, sister.
"Where's mom?"
Rose takes my hand, giving it a squeeze, before letting go and waving her hand in the direction of the kitchen.
"On the phone, gossiping," she says irritably. I sigh. The front door opens, and two seconds later Mickey Smith comes rushing into the room. I sigh once more.
"I've been phoning you! You could've been dead!" He exclaims immediately. I get up and move to the love seat, giving the couple some room. Rose's boyfriend can be a lot to handle sometimes.
"I saw it on the tele, I can't believe that your shop went up," he continues, sitting down next to Rose and tackling her in a hug.
"I'm alright, honestly. Don't make a fuss," she cringes. He settles back, glancing at me and giving a nod of greeting. I do the same.
"What was it though, what happened?" He turns his attention back to Rose.
She shakes her head, "I don't know. I wasn't in the shop. I was outside, didn't see anything."
"Abby! I've got Debbie on the line, and she knows an interviewer from The Mirror who would pay you 500 quid to go on," Mom hustles into the living room, clutching the phone to her chest.
"Mom, I don't work there. The company would probably say I was trespassing, and defeat any chance of settlement," I chuckle a little at Mickey's gasp of surprise.
"You were there too?!"
Rose rolls her eyes at him, but addresses Mom instead. "Really? That's brilliant, give it here." She holds her hand out for the phone and Mom eagerly plops it into her hand. Rose immediately ends the call. I laugh as Mom frowns angrily.
"Well, you've got to find some way of making money! And unless you want to go to trade school like Abby, you haven't got many options!" The phone rings before she can continue her rant, and she answers it excitedly, heading back into the kitchen. Rose releases a heavy breath, and I feel her tiredness in myself.
"I have work tomorrow, so I'm heading off to bed," my body sluggishly lifts itself from the love seat, "Goodnight."
They wish me a good night, and I reach my head into the kitchen to say goodnight to mom. She tells whoever she's on with to hold just a minute before stepping over to me with a small smile.
"Sweetheart, I'm glad you're okay," she clutches me in a tight hug, "Sleep well. And maybe take tomorrow off, yeah?"
"Maybe," I concede, "See you in the morning."
My pajamas are on in record time and as soon as I've snuggled into the sheets, my eyes drift shut. The color blue flutters through my consciousness briefly and I faintly hear a word before sleep claims me completely.
Run