Theme Planet (15 page)

As the arms clunked and clattered
away, Dex moved to the toilet and relieved himself, eyeing the small fluttering
butterfly moppers which cleaned the toilet seat even as he sprinkled. Frowning,
he deliberately pissed on the floor. They mopped that up as well.
Oh, to
live in such a perfect world! Where the air is always clean, the flowers always
beautiful, the people constantly nice to one another. Theme Planet. Theme
World. The perfect vacation. The perfect time for fun with the family...

Dex thought back to London. The
guns, the dirt and the killing. Ha! His existence
there
made Theme
Planet even
more
surreal. His job in the PUF police made his time
here
and now
even more drug-induced; a different world.

Dex stepped into the shower and
had a long, leisurely soak. Then he stood as air-blowers dried him, and he
stepped out to discover some machine, somewhere, had laid out fresh clothes. He
picked up a thin cotton shirt. It smelled distantly of lavender.

“Too fucking perfect,” he
growled, and dressed in shirt, shorts and sandals.

Dex left the bathroom and moved
through the hotel suite, and stopped for a moment in the wide corridor outside
the kitchen. Something was wrong. It was quiet.
Too
quiet. Molly and
Toffee were
never
that quiet. Even asleep, they argued like torturer and
victim.

Dex flip-flopped into the kitchen
and put his hands on his hips, looking around. At the dining table were plates
of crumbs, and juice cups, half full. The coffee machine was also half full, a
tiny red light signalling it was still heated. On the breakfast bar was a cup.

“Kat? Molly? Toffee?”

Dex shrugged, and moved to the
empty cup. There was a lipstick mark on it, and dregs nestling in the bottom.

“Must have gone for an early
morning swim,” he muttered, and moved to the comm.

“And a very good morning, sir.
What can reception do for you?”

“Hi, er, this is Dexter Colls in
room 237. I wonder, have you seen my wife, Katrina Colls, this morning?”

“Yes sir, I have. They left
early. Your two little girls -is it Molly and Toffee, sir? - they were wearing
bathing costumes.”

“Ah. Right, then. They must have
gone to the pool.”

“That was my assumption, sir.
Would you like me to get somebody to give them a message?”

“No, no, that’s okay. I’ll pop
down in a little while.”

He killed the comm and poured himself
a coffee. An early morning swim, eh? Well, he had stayed in bed a
rather
long time.
Serve him right if they disappeared for an hour without him. Dex
added four large sugars to the coffee, and sipped it as he moved across the
generous space of the suite’s living room. He reached the balcony doors and at
a touch, one slid open. Warm air greeted him, and the scent of the sea.
Sunlight sparkled silver on distant waves, and Dex stepped out into the
beautiful fresh air, drinking in the scenery, the long widening snake of the
beach, the turquoise waters, a few watersport fanatics out in boats and on
hover-skis.

Dex stood for a while, enjoying
the sunshine and the gentle breeze which caressed him, blowing away the cobwebs
of too much alcohol and too little sleep. Below, he could hear scattered voices
and occasional laughter. And splashes, in the pool. The pool! Dex grinned to
himself, and leant over the rail, which gave a warning chime. There, there was
the water glittering under sunlight. And there... no. His eyes roved over those
present, sunbathing, splashing. Few of them, in all reality. Theme Planet
prided itself on vast accommodations;
nobody,
proclaimed Theme Planet
literature,
should be forced on top of one another during vacation time!
and Dex heartily agreed.

His eyes roved, but he could not
locate Katrina and his girls. He gave a little shrug, went back inside, and
arming himself with a lobster ice-cream from the freezer, headed out from the
hotel suite.

He padded along quiet corridors.
Sunlight gleamed all around from high windows. It was a very relaxing, airy
place to be.

Dex reached the lift, stepped
inside, and tapped his foot as Ronan the Android sang
Life’s Just Another
Rollercoasting Coaster.
There was a pleasant
bing-bong
as the lift
hit ground level and Dex stepped out into the marble-floored, plant-festooned
reception area. It was as big and luxurious as he remembered; no, in fact it
appeared
bigger
and
more luxurious
than he remembered. He glanced
up at a mirrored ceiling so high it played havoc with his vertigo, and licking
ice-cream, headed for the pool area.

It was comfortably hot as he
stepped into the sun-trap surrounding the pool. Doors slid closed behind him.
Plodding along, licking his ice-cream, Dex’s eyes scanned the poolside. He
frowned. No Katrina. No Molly. No Toffee. How odd. Maybe Kat had taken the
girls to the toilet? Or the shops? The girls were always bloody nagging for a
new toy, or some new gadget.

He scanned again, searching the
sun-loungers for personal sun towels bearing images of the legendary kids toys,
Punky Punk and the Punky Puking Punks, and Bilbo the Badger. There were none to
be seen. In fact, there were no sun loungers at all with abandoned towels.

“How odd,” he said, out loud this
time.

He circled the pool area, and
stopped by two young women who were creaming up. “Excuse me. You haven’t seen a
woman out here with two young girls? I seem to have misplaced my family.”

Both women smiled and shook their
heads. “Not this morning,” said the brunette. “Sorry.”

“Thanks.”

Dex continued his circuit of the
pool area, dropped his unfinished ice-cream into a SuckSuck Basket, and entered
the cool interior of the reception. To his right, a man in a cream suit was
reading a newspaper. He was heavyset, with dark bushed eyebrows and shades on,
despite being indoors.

Dex moved to the reception desk. “Hello.
I’m Dexter Colls from 237. I phoned down earlier, and was told my wife and
children were by the pool.”

“Oh, yes, Mr Colls. Your wife
left a message for you. I’ll just get it.”

Dex felt breath ease from his
anxious frame and he relaxed. Of course! They’d got tired of the pool early on,
moved somewhere else. But then, hadn’t the women at the pool said no family
matching his description had even
been
by the poolside? Yes, but in
reality the women had just been creaming up. So they hadn’t been there long
themselves.

The receptionist, a pretty little
thing with glossy green hair and a neat black suit, returned carrying a small
envelope. Dex broke the seal and removed a small card. On it, in Katrina’s
small, neat handwriting, it said,
Dexter - got tired of waiting for you. Gone
shopping.

Dex pocketed the card and gave
the receptionist a smile and a nod. He moved back to the lift, stepped in, and
pressed the button - just as there came a sudden
whoosh
of air and Lex
the PopBot hurtled across reception and spun into the lift alongside him.

“Ah, Dexter! There you are!” said
the PopBot.

“Have you seen Katrina?” said
Dex, as the doors slid shut and the lift continued to play Ronan the Android’s
happy, chirpy music.

“No,” said Lex, the small black
ball spinning slowly, “but that shouldn’t matter to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m going to crack your
skull like an egg.”

Dex blinked, the words not quite
sinking in, and suddenly the PopBot shot across the lift interior. Dex flicked
himself to one side as the black ball whined past his face, missing him by a
hair’s breadth, and Lex bounced from the wall with a deep metallic
thunk,
leaving a massive dent. On the ricochet, Lex slammed back at Dex like an insane
return volley in a violent squash game. Dex threw up his arms, twisting, and
the PopBot glanced from his limb, leaving a heavy black bruise from wrist to
elbow, before whining upwards and smashing into the control panel of the lift.
Sparks flew as the lift gave a mighty screech of stressed alloy and tortured
components, shuddered and came to a halt.

Dex rolled, came up fast, eyes
narrowed and lips drawn back in a snarl over bared teeth. “You little bastard.
What have you done with my family?”

The PopBot extricated itself from
the smashed instruments and spun for a few moments, tiny lightning arcs
scattering across its black casing. Then it shifted to face him, and the slots
glowed a deep, disturbing red.

“Just die, like a good boy,” said
Lex.

“What have you done to my
children?”

“Eaten them, you human bastard.”

The PopBot hurtled at Dex, and he
leapt and caught the ball, which dragged him up with it and slammed into the
wall and then the ceiling, where alloy panels rippled and lights seemed to
smash and burn all around him. Dex was given a high-intensity electric shock,
and flung from the ceiling back across the lift’s interior, as Ronan the
Android warbled on, happily and blissfully unaware of the fight in the elevator
cubicle.

Dex lay for a moment, stunned,
then crawled to his knees. Lights and fire smashed through his brain. He spat
out a mouthful of blood, and a tooth, and his tongue probed the broken interior
of his mouth.

He stood, fast, training and
instinct kicking in from years of violence on the streets of London. No
weapons, no armour. He knew from experience PopBots were tough little bastards,
and it took more than a right hook to damage their alloy cases. His mind worked
fast, but not fast enough. Lex the PopBot hummed and spun, and descended from
the ceiling to hang, immobile, directly before him.

“Why?” said Dex.

“Because,” said the PopBot,
infuriatingly.

It darted at him, a deadly
circular missile, and Dex threw himself sideways with a speed that surprised
even himself. Lex hit the wall, leaving another dent, but Dex was twisting,
hand reaching into the cavity of the broken control panel and grabbing the
insulated section of a sparking, high-voltage cable...

“Don’t...” said Lex, as Dexter
swung the thick, steel-woven cable at the PopBot. There came a terrific actinic
zap
which blinded Dex, and the PopBot hurtled into a central support
strut. A deafening
clang
followed, and the elevator shuddered. The
PopBot hit the ground with a dull heavy
clank
, and lay on the thick
carpet, unmoving.

Dex dropped the fizzing cable,
panting, and glanced at his injured right arm. The little bastard had taken a
strip of skin from wrist to elbow; it was a damn miracle it hadn’t shattered
his bones!

“Where’s my wife?” he said, voice
thick, head pounding, and kicked the PopBot. But it was immobile. It was dead. “Shit.”

“Do
not worry,”
came the elevator’s automated emergency
recording,
“the lift is immobile for
your best interests.
Do
not
panic, do not worry, the lift has stopped, and you will soon be rescued.
Do
not panic, do not worry, the Hotel
Management have been informed and you will shortly be rescued. Allow us to play
Ronan the Android’s greatest hits for you while you wait...”

Dex glanced up at the damaged
elevator ceiling. He tensed himself, then leapt, fingers catching the edge of
the shattered panel from which he had so recently bounced. He hauled himself up
through smashed alloy panels into a tall, cool tower. Dex glanced up at a
distant pin-prick of light. Huge cables as thick as his waist hung immobile
above him.

“Please
come back,”
said the
elevator’s automated emergency recording, “You
have entered a prohibited area. Humans are not allowed in the
prohibited area. All damages will be charged to your room account for
ENTERING
THE PROHIBITED AREA. PLEASE COME BACK...”