SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

He heard the distinct sound of frying and noticed the fat steaks that were shimmering on the stove, a draft of delicious air easing his way. He realized he hadn’t eaten for almost two days now. No wonder he felt like hell.

For a penthouse, the apartment was quite small. But what it lacked in size it made up in style. The walls were covered in a caramel wood-paneling that seemed to drink in the light. Boltglass windows that stretched across the wall showed a stunning view of the sprawling city, towering angular structures that gleamed dark blue, black and a rich gold. On closer inspection the windows were also soundproof. Probably bulletproof, too. Kopper wondered how much of a selling point that had been.

‘Expensive, but worth it,’ Anders was saying as Kopper gazed at the windows. ‘Damned drones keep me up at night. No price is too high for a good night’s sleep.’

Kopper gave a nod as Anders walked over to the kitchen and fetched two pyramidal glasses and a chilled decanter from the cupboard. ‘I’ll throw a few more steaks on. Care to join me?’

‘I won’t say no.’ Kopper noticed a modest fish tank against the wall, containing a single octopus. Its tentacles twirled like it was showing off, torpedoing from one side of the tank to the other.

‘That’s Houdini. Got him a few days ago for a killer price.’

‘I figured they’d be expensive nowdays,’ Kopper murmured.

Anders shrugged. ‘Not when you know where to look. By the way, did you hear the news?’

Kopper’s nape prickled as Houdini retreated behind a barnacle-studded rock and slipped into a tiny crevice. He wished he could do the same. ‘What news?

‘You know the rebel group, Octam?’ Anders asked. ‘The one that’s been protesting against the Council, calling themselves freedom fighters? Anarchists?’

I’ll be damned. The irony was almost overwhelming. He feigned ignorance. ‘Yes?’

‘We’ll, it seems that they’ve been caught,’ Anders said triumphantly, as if he had done the apprehending himself. ‘Spec Ops Squads traced their signals to a base in the abandoned railway tracks. Over one hundred members captured.’

‘All of them?’ Kopper queried.

‘Probably not. The SOS said that they’ve started the extraction process.’

Kopper stopped himself from shivering. He knew exactly what sort of extraction methods they would be using. It was only a matter of time now. No one lasted long under them. If I hung around for just another hour…

‘Come on. Steaks are done.’

Kopper was almost tempted to have dinner now, he was that famished. But what if he slipped up during the meal? What if someone had tracked him here? The anxiety crept up again, threatened to envelope him. This was no time to back out. I’ve come this far.

He reached for the bottle of Fornax , grasping it by the neck. Making no effort to be stealthy, he strode over to where Anders was standing, oblivious as he tended to the steaks.

‘You know, you should visit more often. Houdini doesn’t say much, and I—’

The words never left his lips. Kopper smashed the bottle on the side of Anders’s head, shattering the glass and splattering the wine on the walls, floor and stove, the pan hissing in fury. Anders collapsed to the ground without a word. Kopper grabbed the switchblade that had been concealed in the bottle, plunging it straight into Anders’s potbelly. The man spluttered as the blood gushed from his wound, trickling to the floor and mixing with the wine.

‘Isaac?’ Anders seemed to be saying as crimson fluid leaked out from the massive gash in his gut. He didn’t look like he was in pain. He looked confused. ‘ Why ?’

Kopper didn’t bother answering him. It would have been a waste of breath. He stepped over the glass shards and grabbed Anders’s head, flexing his fingers and with a practiced move. Crack. Anders went limp, eyes glazing over.

*

Kopper didn’t bother clearing up the mess. There was no point. After helping himself to the two steaks and a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice with a dash of illegal vodka for good measure, he dragged Anders’s dead body into the dining room, a scarlet trail in his wake.

He cleared the mahogany table, covering it with a gel-padded foam sheet. Utensils clattered to the floor. He fished the necessary tools out of his bag and aligned them neatly, the metal winking at him in the light.

With a grunt he heaved Anders’s flabby corpse onto the table and started to strip his bloody clothes off and bundle them up under his head to form a pillow. Houdini watched from his tank, tentacles fluttering in accusation. Kopper ignored it, snatching up the black surgery pen as he carefully stenciled the perimeter markings around Anders’s face. He forced himself to be accurate, but quick. The man’s flesh would soon start to decompose and would be impossible to use. He’d seen just how fast the human body could collapse into a stinking mess. He had done the deed a few times himself. Mainly to corrupt devils who deserved nothing better. The smell was the worst part. It snuffed out any satisfaction he should have gotten from giving these people their just desserts. It reminded him he was a killer. That he’d turned a man into a sack of meat.

Wiping a coat of cold sweat from his forehead, he placed the razorblade suction mask on the man’s face and flicked it on. With a whine it expanded and shifted to fit its occupant, finding the perfect dimensions required to pull the task off successfully. There was a faint click as it pulsed with a lime-green light.

It was good to go.

Kopper clenched his teeth and tried to ignore the sound of razorblades cutting into dead flesh as they sawed away in an almost rhythmic fashion.

*

It was finally done.

The suction mask pinged like a microwave, de-pressurizing itself from Anders’s face and peeling away flesh like a wet sock. Kopper tried not to look at the skinless and bloodied face as he inspected the suction mask. It had created a perfect mold of the man’s face, right down to the diagonal scar on the left cheek and the ugly scabs on his chin.

Kopper hadn’t been idle while the suction mask was doing its job. He’d set up Anders’ bedroom while the operation finalized. He had prepared several insta-snacks and hooked up the radio. He wasn’t going to be lying there for hours with nothing to do. The process would restrict him from using his eyes; so killing time with Anders’s gigantic holovid collection was out of the question, even if he did have some vids that had been explicitly banned by the Council and Kopper had been dying to see.

After making sure that his bladder was indeed empty, and he wouldn’t have to go during the operation like last time, Kopper scooped up the suction mask and headed for the bedroom. He lay down on his back, the necessary equipment within reach. Bracing himself for the familiar pain, he applied a thick ointment on his face as it burned and bubbled, eating away the top layer of skin. He smeared the second gel on his exposed skin. It felt like cold porridge. He quickly attached the suction mask with the face mold, pressuring and sealing it, cutting off his vision. He had set a timer for eight hours and started the countdown. Removing the mask before the operation was complete would tear half his face off—something he preferred to avoid.

He settled back on the bed and listened to the slow melody that hammered out of the radio. He now wished he had taken the time to find proper channel that didn’t play this garbage. Just when he thought he couldn’t put up with it anymore, the news came to his aid.

Normally he didn’t give a damn about what the news had to say, but his ears pricked when he heard the headline: “ Man found murdered and faceless in home.”