Chapter 7: The Black Pieces
Ellis sat back in the chair, kicking his feet up and resting them on the desk before him. He was careful to avoid the cup of tea in front of him – he was down his last few mugs, and a trip to IKEA was the last thing he wanted.
In the next room, the photographs were developing, in a homemade kit cobbled together from bits and pieces gathered over the years. After a fair few mishaps at the shop where the workers had stolen the pictures and cashed in themselves, he'd learned to be quite a bit more diligent with his prize.
They'd take a while to develop, but he wasn't in much of a rush. He'd phoned his editor, telling him of the pictures, and the deal was made, quite aptly as his clock struck midnight.
It was now eight o'clock in the morning. Ellis had caught his share of sleep, a worthy four hours, before waking up and starting on the photographs. As the preliminary deadline was removed, with it went the temptation to rush the pictures and run the risk of ruining them.
He hadn't dropped beneath 65 miles per hour the whole journey home, even when a dog shot out in front of him. The trip was completed in record time, but he probably flagged a few dozen speeding tickets on the way. But that didn't matter. He'd quite happily commit treason for the right photo.
Ellis said up, downing the last few mouthfuls of the now lukewarm tea and returning to the photographs.
Across the country, something was moving.
It hovered on the ground, passing through trees, walls, cars, even people that it didn't concern. It only moved slowly, wanting to reserve the energy.
The previous night had cost it most of its energy supply, but it still had more than enough to survive until it feed once more.
Four orbs glowed within it, considerably smaller than they were before. They swelled and shrank, losing size millimetres at a time with each cycle.
Everyone it passed ignored it, carrying on with their lives, lost in their own thoughts. Even if they had seen the thing passing by, it wouldn't have made any impact on their memories.
It was projecting a memory-lapse field, one of the perks of evolution granted upon it. It was one of the causes for the drain on the energy, but it wanted to avoid attention if at all possible.
And so, that meant that it unfortunately couldn't feed on the hundreds of thousands of prey it passed on its mission.
Its limbs carried across country and city, in a perfectly straight line. It had travelled through the night, dawn and day. It was coming.
'Look, I'm on it now!' Ellis said to the phone, which was pressed against his ear. As he spoke, crumbs of toast soared out of his mouth and scattered themselves onto the counter in front of him.
The whole kitchen was bathed in a red glow, thanks to the bulb used to develop the photographs. Red oven, red toaster, red table, red Ellis. It was all very Communist.
'I have got a deadline, you know!' the editor replied over the phone, miles away in his office. 'If we want it to go to press tomorrow, then I need the photos ASAP. Anyone else could have them by the day after them.'
'Yes, yes, I know!'
'Don't think this is going to save your job, Ellis. You're still on thin ice.'
'Alright, I-'
'Very thin ice. Call me when you're finished.'
And with that, the phone crackled into death. Ellis grunted, as he tossed the phone onto the counter in frustration. Shoving the last of the toast into his mouth, he rubbed his face, before tending to the photographs.
He still had the option of taking the photos to another paper, but that meant he'd lose his 'job' at his current paper, to risk getting one at a new one. At least if he stayed, he could find himself a bit more breathing space.
He slipped on the rubber gloves and removed the photographs from the fluid, hanging all four of them up on the line with washing pegs. The excess fluid dripping off of the photos, landing on buckets and pots he'd placed strategically around the kitchen.
As the last of the clips was put into place, he snapped off the rubber gloves and threw them onto the table, before exiting the kitchen.
The light of the living room brought him back into reality, dismissing all red from sight. After the last while being spent under an artificial glow, it was nice to have some natural light back.
He collapsed onto the sofa, stretching his legs out and clicking the button the TV remote. It came to life after a second or so, in the middle of news broadcast. Something about a bomb going off somewhere, near a politician…something political.
Bored already, he cracked open the tin of coke he'd brought in with him and took a swig, before flipping channels. The screen blinked for a second, before turning into a trashy gameshow. He hesitated for a second, listening to the first question.
'So here's your starter: Which actor starred in the 1989 James Bond film The Living Daylights?'
'Timothy Dalton.' Ellis said, alongside the contestant.
'No, I'm sorry, it was Rowan Atkinson.' the host said, as a red cross filled the screen in the background.
Ellis frowned, before changing the channel. It was a rubbish programme, it would seem.
He searched all the other channels as well, amongst the rubbish of morning chat shows and news broadcasts. A sitcom from twenty odd years ago. Flip. Teleshopping. Flip. A period drama about the 1890s, which is when it seemed to be made – hold on, seemed to be a good bit…no, it wasn't. Flip.
At last, he managed to make his choice: a documentary, about the creation of the Labour party. It wasn't that interesting, to be honest, but he didn't want to leave the house, and more importantly, the photographs, alone.
As pictures of Clement Attlee and Ramsay MacDonald filled his television, Ellis found himself dozing off, but he managed to urge himself to stay awake.
It had managed to leave the fields behind it, and was now in the heart of the city. Prey flooded around it like a net, threatening to ensnare it, but it felt no fear. It probably couldn't, even if it wanted to.
The red orbs were minuscule, only an inch or so. They continued to throb regularly, but the cycle took ever so slightly longer, as if it were powering down.
It would have to feed. There was nothing else it could do, or it would never reach its destination.
In an ally, a few miles away, a woman was smoking a cigarette, the fire door next to her held open by a paint tin. She sucked on the cigarette and exhaled the grey cloud of smoke in to the morning air.
'Nora!' a voice shouted from inside. 'Are you actually working today or what?!'
'Coming…!' the woman shouted back, dropping the cigarette onto the floor and stamping it out with her foot.
As she turned towards the door, she felt something. A burning, across her body. At first, she thought she'd forgotten to completely extinguish the cigarette, or gotten some ash on her, but she couldn't see anything.
Then she dropped to the ground.
She tried to scream out in pain, but the breath was lost from her lungs. Her internal organs all shifted and melded to become a single mound of flesh, and her bones cracked and cricked under the stress.
Behind her stood a creature, watching her with eyes that weren't there. Four red orbs inside it focused on the woman, steadily growing larger and larger.
Nora gave one last attempt at a scream, before clutching onto the paint tin. She tried to pull herself inside, hope one of her co-workers would see her, but it was no good. All the strength had fled from her limbs.
The red orbs flashed, and Nora disappeared in a flash of blood and smoke. The paint tin fell onto the floor and the door slammed shut.
Inside the building, the voice walked towards the door, with a fresh rage. Late for work is one thing, but throwing a strop about it is quite another.
He opened the fire door and looked out into the alley. It was empty. The creature watched him, deciding upon whether or not to strike. But it decided against it. It didn't need to feed, nor did it want to raise any more attention than was necessary.
The worker, now more confused than annoyed, shut the fire door, returning to his work, whilst the creature, now with five full orbs in its stomach, carried on its mission, ready to complete it.
The red kettle whistled shrilly, as the red Ellis raised it and poured red water into the red mug. He mixed the red teabag and dumped it in the red bin, before adding the red milk.
To be honest, he was starting to get a little sick of all the red.
Breathing gently on the tea to cool it down, he checked the photos.
He almost dropped the mug in shock.
Everything was there, all in focus. Sir Fisher was by the window, the house was all in place and the foliage around the scene was as green as it was on the night.
But the thing was missing.
A blank space was where the creature had once been. Ellis searched the photos, every single one of them, but they were all missing the something.
Ellis clapped his hands to his forehead, groaning to himself. This wasn't possible. The wall where the thing should be was just as it was before, the doorframe continuing and finishing as it would.
As Ellis took a coping gulp from the mug, he decided what to do.
Take the photos to the editor, and hope his reputation would defend the truth. He'd probably be laughed out of the office for claiming something like this, that the one important thing from the photos had just vanished, but he didn't have a choice. He figured he'd at least have the benefit of doubt if he took this route – why would he make up such a ridiculous lie?
He waited for the photos to dry, then unpegged them and stuck them in the folder, before ramming the folder into his messenger bag.
Ellis scooped his keys up off the counter and downed the last of the tea, the liquid burning this throat slightly, before he headed out of the door. If he was lucky, he'd still be able to catch the next bus into town.
Pulling on the bag, he walked towards the front door and opened it. The creature greeted him.
Ellis gasped for a second in shock, before slamming the door and backing away. His breathing was ragged, panic-stricken. Quickly, he threw off the messenger bag and left it on the sofa.
He watched as the familiar green glow appeared around the door, growing stronger and stronger. In instinct, he moved towards the opposite wall. Five red orbs phased through the door, as well as a forest of limbs, picking at the carpet beneath them without leaving a mark.
Ellis turned and ran through the door, heading into the kitchen. The creature headed towards him, quicker than it was the previous night.
He slammed the door shut, still consumed by the red glow of the bulb. It began to flicker, like a power cut was about to start. Ellis grabbed the chair from the table and went to press it against the door, slot it underneath the knob.
The green mist appeared once more. Ellis quickly recoiled his hand, just avoiding touching it, before running back again. The chair clattered to the floor.
Ellis grabbed the nearest leg of the chair and pulled it back, pressing himself against the kitchen counter. As the mist solidified and reformed back into the creature, Ellis chucked the chair at it, praying to do any damage.
It passed through the creature and into the door, denting the centre panel and snapping the chair into three.
The creature moved towards Ellis, who ran around the table, like electron around an atom. Luckily, he had the advantage of speed.
Not so luckily, the creature had the advantage of intangibility. It moved through the table, the five orbs growing intensely.
Ellis ran back through the door, trying to exit the flat. But as he stopped to move the chair, he had lost. The creature had him.
He dropped to the floor, convulsing and squelching. His hands curved into fists and flexed outwards again, his legs reached outwards to the point of almost breaking. His eyes were screwed shut and his teeth gritted.
Then a second later, it was over. Ellis' body, drowning the ocean of red, vanished in a flash, leaving a trail of nothing behind.
The red bulb smashed, plunging the room into darkness.
Sir Fisher stared out of the window, tapping his finger on the glass. It should be back by now, unless it had run into any problems.
He checked his watch – two minutes past noon. As the second hand ticked by, he stared at it, taking a few deep breaths to try and steady himself.
He looked back up at the glass, and leaped a foot in the air when he saw the reflection of the creature.
'You made it back, then?' he asked, turning around.
'Yes.'
'Took your time.'
'It was necessary.' came the response. Sir Fisher looked down, glancing at the creature, taking the time to note it now had six orbs, rather than the five it should.
'Took the time to have a snack, I presume?'
'It was necessary.' repeated the creature.
'So the photographer from last night, you…got him?'
'He is destroyed.'
'Right. What about the others?'
'They are next.'
'I see. One down, two to go, is it? Look, do we have to kill them? One death I can cope with, especially his death, but two is pushing it.'
'They know. They must be destroyed.'
Sir Fisher mopped his brow, before sighing.
'Alright, then. Two to go.'