Jack Strange - Zomcats!

Osmosis involved looking at each page of a document (or as many pages as he could bear to look at) without actually ever reading any of the text whatsoever. Nigel believed that at an unconscious level, the meaning of the policy documents would be made apparent to him via Osmosis and would emerge clearly in his A4 summaries.

He frowned and opened the box.

Then he took out the documents it contained and placed them in a neat pile to his left.

He perused them one by one, randomly switching between osmosis and assimilation, and in no time at all he’d condensed hundreds of thousands of words of vital information prepared by the wonks into a handful of A4 pages which he sent upstairs to the executive officers of the council for implementation.

M. T. Dross, the Kirklees Director of Tourism, was on the committee charged with organising the V.O.Z day celebrations in Huddersfield.

The committee met for the first time in the Magic Rock, a pub that was far enough removed from the town centre to have emerged intact from the carpet-bombing a few months previously. The first motion that was carried was that they should all have a pint or two of real ale purchased out of civic funds, as they were all in need of refreshment. Duly refreshed, they got down to business.

“I’ve got a great idea,” said Dross. “When the President comes, we ought to show him our town properly, not just the remains of the town centre. We ought to show him the whole thing because our town will get shown on American TV and that’ll bring tourists to us from all over America.”

“And how do you propose doing that? Just how can we show the president our entire town?”

Dross assumed the knowledgeable expression of a leader.

“I know just the way,” he said. “We’ll arrange a trip for him up to the top of Stonker Edge. We’ll take him right to the precipice. From there he’ll see the entire town spread out below him. And while he’s admiring the view, the American news companies are going to be showing images of it all over America. Huddersfield will become famous and tourists will come flocking.”

The committee members all nodded.

“A trip to Stonker Edge, what a great idea M.T. Motion passed!”

M.T.’s idea was the first to go on the long list the committee came up with that day. The list was duly sent to the council’s chief executive for approval. He read through it then he read through the briefing notes he’d received from Nigel Gresley about the precautions to be taken to ensure that the President’s visit went smoothly. It was clear to him, given the guidelines he’d had from the wonks in central government, as condensed by Gresley, that none of the items on the list posed any threat whatsoever, and he approved it in full and sent it back to the V.O.Z. committee for implementation.

When the call came, it took him by surprise. He was lying in bed completely alert, not having slept for the third night running, when his mobile went off next to him. Even though he was exhausted, he reached over to the bedside cabinet, grabbed the mobile, and put it to his ear.

“Hello,” he said.

The voice at the other end was clipped and business-like.

“It’s Phil. I’ve got your stuff. I’m bringing it round this afternoon.”

“What time is it? I’m in bed.”

“What? You better get up. I’m planning on setting off as soon as I’ve got your goods in my van.”

This news, which should have excited Pratt, had little impact on him because the last few days had left him emotionally drained. He lacked the energy to get excited. The best he could manage was slightly less depressed.

“Don’t worry, I’m getting up now. I’ll see you when you get here.”

They wheeled Kaz’s body into the house on a stretcher. It was wrapped in a body bag. Pratt was grateful for that.

The other goods that he’d ordered came bagged-up, each in its own zip-up plastic container.

Pratt asked them to put everything in the two big freezers he’d recently installed in his cellar.

He didn’t have the money ready for them; he’d assumed that he’d been ripped off and that he’d never see either of them again. This meant he had to laboriously count it out on the kitchen table while they waited. When Pratt was done, Phil scooped up the money, just like he’d done before.

“It’s been nice doing business with you,” said Anya, extending her hand.

She smiled. Her attractive features were more beguiling than ever when she smiled. Pratt couldn’t help but be won over by her smile. Nevertheless, he hesitated for a moment before shaking her hand. His principles forced him to wonder whether he ought to be in physical contact with a member of an inferior race. Her hand, when he shook it, felt the same as any other, which surprised him. He’d been conditioned into thinking it ought to feel different. Nevertheless, he resolved to stick by his principles.

“Yeah, nice doing business with you,” Phil added, and Pratt shook hands with Phil too.

“Call us if you need anything else,” said Anya as they left.

“I will,” said Pratt.

After they’d gone, he made a mug of tea and prepared himself for the task that lay ahead.

He visited the local DIY warehouse, and bought ten cylinders of extra-powerful ‘No More Nails’ adhesive and a caulking gun to apply it with. He bought some nylon ‘Everlasting’ twine and a pack of sewing needles in varying sizes. Then he visited the Ann Summers shop in the St. Nicholas Shopping Centre in Sutton. He bought a black basque with a red trim, a lacy black G-string; black stockings, black leather boots with six-inch silver heels, leather wrist bands that were studded with silver studs, and a leather neck band to match. His final purchase was a bull-whip.

He drove home and took his many purchases to the cellar. Once there, he removed the body parts from the freezers. He had two arms, two legs, a body and a head.

They were all to his exact specification. The legs were exquisite; the arms were strong and shapely; the body curvaceous; and the head was an exact match for the photograph he’d given to Phil and Anya.

He removed the end of one of the cylinders of ‘No More Nails’ and inserted it into his caulking gun. He applied a liberal layer to the top of the right leg and the right hip joint. He left them for a minute to allow the adhesive to get tacky, and then he pressed the two parts together. He repeated the process with the other body parts and the head. Next, for good measure, he used his needle and everlasting twine to stitch the skin together at the joints with his ‘Everlasting Twine’.

Pratt was a patient and thorough worker. The end result was presentable, if somewhat shocking.

Finally, he came to the main event. He used one of Forsyth’s hacksaws to cut off the top of the head and remove the brain, taking care not to inflict too much damage on its blond hair.

Then he opened the head end of the body bag which contained Kaz’s lifeless body. As he’d feared, her face was half-crushed. He could only hope that her brain wasn’t too badly mangled, and that the machine he had at his disposal would miraculously repair the damage to it.

As carefully as he could, he sawed off the top of Kaz’s head while she was still in the freezer and removed her brain. Then he tripped on one of the many cables that covered the floor and he fell, dropping the brain. It went flying. It bounced soggily a couple of times, bringing to Pratt’s mind the surreal image of a large grey frog jumping across the floor.

He got to his feet and picked up the brain. He put it into the open skull of the body he’d just built and glued the top of the head back into place. Then he did his best to repair the skin with a neat line of stitching.