Colony Read online

  Colony

  Phillipa Nefri Clark

  Published by Phillipa Nefri Clark, 2018.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  COLONY

  First edition. August 12, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Phillipa Nefri Clark.

  Written by Phillipa Nefri Clark.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  COLONY

  Who is Doctor Grok?

  COLONY

  The alley was gloomy, empty, slumped between bland buildings. Cobblestones from another era formed an uneven path from one street to another. Out on the main drag it was rush hour. In here, the sounds of the city faded to near-silence.

  A couple turned the corner into the dark passage. They hurried along, not touching but close to each other until the man, Edward Bentley, couldn’t wait anymore.

  “Come here, gorgeous.”

  With a giggle, Barb, half his forty-five years, threw her arms around Edward. He backed her against the brick wall and kissed her. Hungrily.

  The ring of his cell phone startled them both.

  Lips working overtime to keep his attention, Barb slid a hand to his pocket. Edward’s fingers followed and curled around hers with a quick squeeze, then he released them to grab his cell.

  “Baby, don’t answer.”

  “It’s work.” He answered the call. “Edward Bentley. Yes?”

  Barb loosened Edward’s tie and started on his buttons.

  “I’m ten minutes away. God dammit, they can wait for me.” He pushed Barb’s hands away and stalked into the middle of the alley. “Tell them—what? Screw it.”

  He stabbed at the cell to disconnect the call and considered throwing it against the building. Barb stared at him. He winked.

  “Don’t pout. You’ll get wrinkles.”

  “Like your wife?”

  “Like you. If you pout.” Edward redid his top button and straightened his tie. “I gotta go.”

  “You sure, baby?” Barb swayed her way to him, reaching up for a kiss. “Sounds like your other meeting got cancelled.”

  Edward pulled Barb against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “Next time.” A quick kiss later he dropped his arms. “I’ll phone you.”

  “Fine.”

  As she walked past, he swatted her behind and she squealed, then grinned at him over her shoulder.

  “Later.”

  Edwards watched Barb until she reached the street and disappeared into the early evening crowd. She liked him a lot. A lot more than his wife did. He checked the time. Sybil wouldn’t even begin to wonder where he was yet. He shouldn’t have sent Barb away.

  Hands in his pockets, Edwards sauntered into the depths of the alley. There was a decent bar on the next block and a couple of stiff drinks appealed. Helped to face going home. To the emptiness.

  Footsteps echoed behind him and he paused. Nobody was around.

  The next street was visible now, cars and pedestrians scurried home. He was halfway between the two main streets. And alone in a dark alley. A shiver ran up his spine and Edward laughed aloud.

  A few more steps and he came across a shop built into the old brickwork. The entry was an odd wooden door and above it, a shaky neon light flashed off time. Antiques. Except the “I” was missing.

  Edward peered through a window so dirty he could barely make out what was inside. He’d taken this shortcut a hundred times so why hadn’t he seen this before?

  “You like?”

  Edward jumped.

  An old man was at his side. Hunched up with arthritis, white hair fell to his shoulders. Eyes bright as a kitten, he stared up at Edward. Where the hell had he come from?

  “Busy. Sorry.” Time for that drink. Or a few. Edward stalked away.

  “Antiques. You like?”

  Edward stopped. Something made him turn around. The old man smiled, displaying perfect teeth.

  “Actually, I collect them.”

  The old man nodded, as though he already knew. He gestured for Edward to follow him before disappearing into the shop through the door.

  Edward hesitated. He really wanted that drink. But there was nothing like a good antique. He followed the old man.

  He stepped inside an uninviting, dark place. The door closed behind him with a thud and again, he jumped.

  Rickety tables and horrible lampshades were shoved against dirty brown cupboards. Books with indecipherable covers were piled high in every corner. There was barely room to walk.

  Edward looked around in disgust. “These aren’t antiques.”

  He was alone. Or else the old man was hidden behind some dreadful monolith of decrepit suitcases.

  Edward wandered, hoping for a gem in the grimy store but finding only junk and cobwebs. An almost hidden doorway led to another crowded room. More junk on junk.

  Except, on the far wall, there was a painting.

  Edward wound his way between torn armchairs and huge pots. Up close, the painting was so dusty it was hard to make out the detail. But such an old and beautiful frame. Some glimmer of hope amongst trash.

  “You like?”

  This time, Edward managed to control his reaction and keep his heart rate down. How the old man reached him was a mystery. Perhaps he teleported. “Do you say anything else?”

  “You buy?”

  “No. Not my style.”

  “For wife, perhaps?”

  Perhaps. Sybil liked unusual pieces. It might start a conversation. Edward blew some of the dust away. It filled the air with particles, then settled on his jacket. He impatiently brushed them off, checking out the canvas through half closed eyes.

  There was a richness of color under the years of neglect. It was some sort of seascape and given the age, might very well be valuable.

  “Price?”

  “Seven thousand dollars. Cash only.”

  Edward laughed shortly. Without another glance he walked away, stepping over boxes and around strange coat racks. He fiddled with his tie, finding an undone button.

  At the front door he reached for the door handle, but something made him look back. The painting was right in his line of sight.

  SYBIL BENTLEY STARED at a framed photograph on her desk. A toddler, a little girl with a cheeky smile and violet eyes. Everyone always said those eyes were like hers. Same color. Same happy sparkle.

  Her hands gripped a folder she was about to file before the photo took her attention, as it did every so often. Most of the time it was part of the background, like the wedding photo half hidden behind the monitor and the seashell lamp to the right of the desk. The one thing remaining from their long-ago honeymoon, purchased by Edward to please his new bride although he considered it to be worthless.

  Headlights flashed on the window. Edward. Half drunk, no doubt. With another woman’s perfume on his skin.

  Sybil drew in a long breath and relaxed her grip on the folder. She stood, her legs stiff from sitting still for so long...it was almost midnight according to her laptop.

  A car door thudded. Sybil glanced around the study, fingers tidying her hair. The room was perfect. No mess or anything out of place. The sofa against another wall had a neatly folded blanket at one end in case she decided to sleep in here again.

  As the front door opened, Sybil returned to her ergonomically correct chair behind the desk and woke the laptop from sleep mode.

  The front door closed too loudly for anyone who hadn’t been drinking. Why must he do this?

  Edward filled the doorway, leaning against the frame with a silly grin. “You’re still up. Good.”

  With the barest of glances, Sybil noticed the loose tie, an undone button. Did he think she was so stupid
as not to see? “Oh. You’re home.”

  “Want a drink?” He was gone before she answered.

  “No.”

  She stopped pretending to work and checked her neatly fastened bun again.

  Edward returned with two glasses of vodka and put one onto the desk. Not on the coaster.

  Be civil. “How was dinner?”

  “Stupid old suits. Not a concern for the environment. Money is everything.” He dropped onto the sofa and pulled his shoes off.

  Sybil cringed as the shoes, and then socks, ended up in the middle of the floor.

  “They actually believe I like them.” He swallowed half his vodka.

  “Remarkable.”

  Edward shot a look at Sybil.

  She smiled, raising her glass to him. “To old suits.”

  “Ah, I almost forgot!” Edward tossed back the remainder of the drink and staggered to his feet. Not sure where to put the empty glass, he finally placed it—ever so carefully—on the corner of the desk. As he wandered out of the study, Sybil glared at the glass.

  Back almost immediately, Edward hugged a large, flat parcel wrapped in brown paper. “Happy birthday!” He stopped near the sofa as though unsure of what to do next. “Um. Sorry about the wrapping paper.”

  He had remembered her birthday. With moments to spare. Sybil came around the desk and took the parcel, which was so heavy she almost dropped.

  “Whoops. Don’t break it. Cost too much.”

  “Sorry. Whatever is it?” She set it down against the sofa and worked on a corner of sticky tape. It took a while to remove without tearing the paper.

  “For goodness sake, Sybil. Just paper.” Edward ripped the paper in one motion, revealing the painting from the antique store.

  It was free of dust and grime. A seascape created with such vibrant colors to appear glossy. Almost wet.

  Five rocks rose above the surface of the ocean, each with its own figure seated on top. A storm loomed in the distance.

  “Well. Do you like it?”

  She didn’t hear him, her attention on devouring every stroke of the brush. She leaned in closer to the canvas.

  “I think they’re seals or something. Need my glasses.” Edward felt around in a pocket. “You should have seen it in the shop. Filthy dirty so I made the shopkeeper clean it up before I’d hand my money over to—”

  Sybil made sudden and firm contact with Edward’s lips. Her eyes were wide when she pulled back long enough to speak. “I love it.” She kissed him again. “Edward, I absolutely,” another kiss, “love it.”

  Edward drew her closer and started unzipping her skirt, returning the kisses.

  “Not in here.” Sybil turned her head.

  “Why? Never mind.” Edward took her hand and with the slightest of hesitation, Sybil followed, casting one more glance at the painting.

  EARLY MORNING LIGHT filtered into the study, straight onto the painting hanging behind Sybil’s desk, which dominated the room with its size and color.

  Camera in hand, Edward sauntered in. He removed the lens cap and tossed it onto the sofa then played around with the focus of the lens.

  Desk between him and the painting, he took a few shots. Something wasn’t right about the picture. It bothered Edward enough to put down the camera and go closer. Around the desk, where Sybil hated him going. Her personal work space.

  From a foot away, the air around the painting was warmer. Ridiculous. Edward stepped back, then forward. Yes, a definite warmth. The sun must be on that side of the house.

  He searched for a signature and, finding none, turned his attention to the figures on the rocks. “Seriously?” Edward slid his glasses from a top pocket and pushed them over his nose.

  “Mermaids. How quaint.”

  Four mermaids sat upon their raised rocks, sunning themselves under a brilliant blue sky. Peculiar creatures as different from each other as human females were in skin tone, shape, and hair color. Their long tails reflected the sunshine in a myriad of hues.

  On the center rock a male creature stared directly at Edward. Part question, part challenge radiated through the canvas and Edward stepped back. “What does one call you?”

  “A merman, I would imagine.”

  Sybil stood in the middle of the room, her manner guarded. “What are you doing?”

  “Insurance. Taking photos so I can add this to the policy. But I can’t find the name of the artist, so perhaps I should remove the frame—”

  “I have work to do.”

  He got the message. On his way out, he stopped close to Sybil and leaned down to kiss her lips, ready to ignite the passion again.

  She offered him her cheek. “It’s only a couple of weeks until the conference.”

  “My wife, keynote speaker on managing proper workplace orderliness.” Edward smiled to take the sting out of the words.

  “Order is what separates man from the animal world.”

  “Animal world has more fun.”

  When no response was forthcoming, he collected the lens cap and camera. In the doorway, he glanced back. Sybil hadn’t moved, but she stared at the painting.

  THE HOUSE WAS IN DARKNESS and in the study, the laptop off. Sybil was asleep on the sofa. The front door quietly opened, and then clicked shut.

  From outside the study, Edward talked softly on the phone. “Hold on for a minute.” He glanced in and saw Sybil under the blanket.

  His footsteps headed away but his voice was audible. “She’ll have taken her pills. Nothing’ll wake her.”

  Sybil opened her eyes.

  “Of course I do.” There was a softness in his tone. “You’re gorgeous, you know.”

  Sybil’s fingers clenched around the top of the blanket.

  “And I miss you already, too. Okay. Sweet dreams.”

  With a shuddering breath, Sybil closed her eyes.

  AT A LONG MARBLE COUNTER, Sybil and Edward ate breakfast. He read the weekend newspaper whilst she flicked through a huge, tattered book.

  His plate empty, Edward crossed to the coffee machine. “More coffee?”

  There was no response. He made one anyway and put it beside her.

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “What’s so interesting?”

  “I had no idea there was so much literature on such creatures as mermaids.”

  “Ah.”

  “For example, did you know that almost every culture has its own names for them and stories about them?”

  “I did not.”

  “And, even recently there has been well documented reports of sightings. By respectable people.”

  “Fascinating.” Edward stared gloomily into his coffee.

  “The painting seems to represent a colony of merfolk. Can you imagine how glorious it would be to live in such a world?”

  “You do know they aren’t real, though.”

  Sybil looked straight at him as if he had lost his mind.

  IN DARKNESS, SYBIL sat in her chair facing the painting. The only light was from the seashell lamp.

  Edward stood in the doorway, drink in hand. Sybil was aware he was there, only a few feet away. She couldn’t take her eyes off the canvas. The merman on the middle rock seemed to be staring straight back at her, his face serious.

  The front door opened, and then closed. A moment later the car started and drove away.

  Sybil relaxed. She glanced at the door where Edward stood. Or was he even there?

  With a yawn and stretch, she stood, her eyes drawn back to the merman.

  He was smiling.

  EDWARD FOUND SYBIL in the kitchen at the coffee machine. There was a rhythm about her actions, an unconscious elegance of movement. In her usual straight skirt and shirt, the outline of her was as enticing as the day they met.

  “You’re still so beautiful.”

  Sybil started. Coffee cup in one hand, she went very still. When Edward put a hand on her shoulder, she stiffened. With a frown, he stepped away.

  “I saw this today and thought you migh
t like it.” He held out a jewelry box.

  With her free hand, she hesitantly accepted it. “Thank you.”

  “Open it.”

  She did, then looked at Edward with a question in her eyes.

  “It’s a kind of charm chain. See the mermaids on it?”

  He reached for the box and removed a golden bracelet. “Those are diamonds in their tails.” He unfastened the clasp and placed it around her wrist. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Very pretty.”

  “I was thinking we might go out for dinner tonight. Somewhere nice.”

  Why couldn’t she be happy? All he saw was sadness. Edward offered a small smile. “You can kiss me now.”

  A ROMANTIC EVENING with dinner and drinks was the perfect remedy. But by the time Edward remembered he was meant to meet his wife at a restaurant across town, he’d already helped Barb cook a meal at her place and wasn’t about to upset her as well.

  His text message to Sybil was garbled, no doubt affected by the bottle of wine he’d shared with Barb, but it mentioned work and being caught late in the office so it would have to do.

  Light on, still dressed for their dinner, Sybil slept on the sofa. Edward watched her for a while, his hands shaking a little. Why did he keep doing this to them? He touched his lips to her forehead, then gently covered her with the blanket. “I’m so sorry. I truly am.”

  SYBIL HURRIED DOWN the center of the alley, high heels clicking on the cobblestones. Trash blew alongside from the wind pushing her along.

  She saw the shop. The neon light was off, the front door shut. A “Closed” sign was in the window.

  Was this the place? Edward told her it was in this alley, almost impossible to see at night. And never to go there alone.

  She rubbed on the glass, peering through the grime to see inside. With a click, the door slowly opened. Heart racing, Sybil stepped inside.

  “I AM BEING STRAIGHT with you.” Edward followed Sybil into the study.