The Task

Bristol, 17th May 2090

Perhaps it was the fact that it was the middle of the night, or maybe because only the rich possessed £100 notes, that Lucille pondered upon her new found wealth. Maybe it was a prank; It couldn’t possibly be anything else, she thought. Who would send fifty thousand pounds in £100 notes to an impoverished girl living in isolation? Lucille stared at the large white envelope which sat comfortably on her messy table; the colour a stranger to the dark furniture and un-plastered walls that surrounded her. A small black book that had arrived with the money moments earlier lay to the left of it. Lucille sat back in her armchair, closely analysing what was in front of her, until she spotted one of the pages in the black book had been folded. She reached down and opened it to find a list of written instructions.

At the top of the page, a message;

“To Lucille Jones, we know who you are and everything about you.* You are eighteen, rejected by your family. Having birthed a child who lies asleep in the room next door.”

Beams of sweat started to frame Lucille’s forehead and her breathing became heavy.

”We know that you’re desperately trying to provide for your new born child and keep that roof over your head. We are offering you fifty-thousand pounds cash for you to carry out a task on our behalf. We need you to kill someone.”

Lucille’s heart dropped.

“And if you’re thinking of refusing, Just remember, we know who you are.”

She re-read the message, trying her best to find an error, but to her dismay, there weren’t any. It was all true. Her daughter was asleep in the opposite room; she hadn’t even given her a name. Ella perhaps, or Belle? Every ounce of energy had been taken up trying to survive her desperate situation. Dozens of questions started to flood her mind. Who were these people? The Delacy maybe? They were a dangerous organisation who held everyone’s information using it for experiments, but that was so long ago. No one had heard from them in years.

All of a sudden, a muted cry caught Lucille’s attention and she rushed into the opposite room. Reaching down into a grubby cot, she gently placed her daughter in her arms, cradling her cries.

“Don’t cry don’t cry. Everything’s going to be okay. We’ll get out of this place and live in a beautiful house together.” The child’s cries began to subside.

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Bristol, 18th May 2090

Lucille glanced at the digital numbers on her watch; 15:57. Rush hour at the train station was in three minutes. She fished in her coat pocket and pulled out the small black book she’d acquired the previous night. Her eyes read over the remaining list of instructions as she repeated quietly to herself,

“Silver briefcase, grey suit, red tie.” Her breath unsteady.

She glanced down again; 15:59.

This was pure madness, she thought. No sane person would even consider doing this, but Lucille wasn’t sane, She was desperate.

The whole station chimed as Lucille’s watch hit four o’ clock.

Here goes.

She headed into the frenzy of bodies which had quickly accumulated, scanning the crowd for a pop of red and a flash of silver.

Hurry up, you don’t have long!

As Lucille pushed through the people, her small frame became sandwiched between suitcases and shoulders, forcing her off balance onto the ground. Her moans were white noise compared to the echos of footsteps and ongoing trains.

As Lucille came to conclude her failure, she saw a hand reach down, hauling her up. Eager to show her gratitude, a pop of red and a flash of silver caught her eye.

“Are you okay there miss?” The man smiled, tucking his crimson tie back into his suit.

Lucille froze, her eyes locking with his.

This was the man.

She could sense the weight of the knife in her pocket and the itching of her fingers to feel its touch.

“You need to be careful, it can get quite hectic around here.”

Lucille remained silent as the moral battle waged in her mind. No-one would shed a glance, they wouldn’t even know. Her hand quickly slipped into her pocket, clutching the small knife.

Now is your chance.

“Oh, and you dropped this,” The man held out a small black book with a cordial grin.

Lucille panicked, moving her lips in an attempt to string a sentence together.

“Th- thank you.” was all she could muster. She struggled to focus as his crystal eyes burned into hers.

“Well I must be off, wouldn’t want to miss my train.”

As quickly as he came, the man disappeared with his pleasant smile into the throng of people, leaving Lucille in disarray. She did not know the true cost of her actions.

London, 30th April

“Belle, dinner!” Lucille yelled from the kitchen, balancing the phone between her chin and shoulder.

“As I was saying, I can’t do the fifth for the interview; it’s Belles’ birthday and I’ve arranged a party.” Lucille responded, placing the cutting board back on her marbled counter.

“Well maybe I could just sign a few books and give them to you to- hold on; Belle, I said dinner!” Lucille called once more, her voice echoing off the halls.

As the call came to an end, a loud bang resounded throughout the house.

Lucille puffed, making her way upstairs.

“What have you done now-“. The breathe was knocked out of her.

The window was smashed, the draws had fallen, and next to them lay a motionless child in a pool of red.

Lucille’s shaking hands went to her mouth, holding in tears.

Another crash echoed, coming from her own room, but she didn’t bother to investigate. Instead, she collapsed to the floor, unable to control her breathing. She crawled to Belle, bringing her small body close, resting it in her arms.

“Belle”. She hopelessly whispered. But no response. Only the whistling of the wind blowing through the broken window panes.

Monday 5th May 2125

Lucille stood by the newly formed grave, envying the flowers which lay so close to her child. Behind her, footsteps approaching.

“Miss Jones?” A soft voice came, “I’m Detective Luna Newman, from London police.”

Lucille sniffled, embarrassed to turn around.

“You asked to see the face of the killer.” She said hesitantly.

Lucille span around, noticing a small collection of photographs in the woman’s hand.

“I think it’s best if you take these.”

As Lucille took the photographs, everything went silent.

There on the page, was a man with burning crystal eyes and a pleasant smile.

It can’t be.

“I’ll contact you if we find anymore information.” The detective gave a gentle smile, “I’m really sorry for your loss.”

Leaving Lucille alone, a well aquatinted thought passed her mind.

This is my fault. This whole thing is my fault.

Guilt rippled throughout her body, forcing a loud cry.

Falling to the ground, she felt the familiar spine of the little black book that was in her coat pocket. Pulling it out, she noticed a corner had been folded on a page.

“What on earth?” She sniffled.

Written in the centre of the folded page was a new message.

This was curious. No one could have possibly written anything in there. But that wasn’t what agitated Lucille. The message asked her to draw out fifty thousand pounds; the exact amount she had spent after her failed assassination attempt five years ago.

* * * * *

As Lucille arrived at her house, she saw a box sitting on the doorstep. Locking her car and bringing it inside, she stripped the tape from the cardboard and opened the flaps.

Lucille felt her stomach become heavy. In the box, a card with an old fashioned watch and a familiar small black book.

With shaky hands, Lucille read the card.

“To Lucille, this is your last try. Put on the watch and turn the notch anti-clockwise five times. The books are connected so she will see what you write and vice versa. Do what you must to convince yourself to kill him. She mustn’t see you. You have twenty- four hours to save your daughter. This is your last chance, don’t repeat the same mistake or you will be stuck in a cycle. You know the sacrifice you must make, if successful. You owe us big time- The Delacy.”

Lucille stood, dazed and bewildered.

The Delacy.

Aren’t they supposed to have been dismantled? Surely this had to be a joke. “This is the last time.” Had she done this before?

Lucille clenched her eyes shut, piecing everything together. Then exhaling deeply, she pulled out the money she had withdrawn earlier and searched for a large white envelope. Then she turned to a page in the book and wrote down a list of instructions and a message that sounded convincing. Folding the corner of the page and signing the envelope, she strapped the watch on.

Looking down at her wrist , the words echoed in her mind- you know the sacrifice you must make.

Maybe this was a bad idea, she thought.

You don’t even know these people or what they’re capable of!

Her mind argued against what she was about to do, but there was a fraction of hope that told her otherwise, and that fraction wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice herself if it meant getting Belle back. That thought pushed Lucille to twist the notch five times.

Bristol 18th May, 2090

Lucille stood behind a pillar in the station, watching, waiting. She ticked off the mental checklist she’d made. The envelope and the book had been delivered, now it was just time to wait.

The clock struck four o’ clock and the station quickly swarmed with people.

Across from where she was hiding, Lucille spotted a girl rushing into the mass of people; it was her.

Dashing in her direction, a man with a red tie and silver briefcase. It was him.

Lucille watched as the events unfolded, eagerly waiting for a scream to sound her success, but nothing. Instead the man continued to head out from the crowd towards the London train.

“No no no!” And the realisation settled in. She didn’t fully believe her message. She let him go.

“This is your last chance, don’t repeat the same mistake.”

Lucille paced back and forth. What was she supposed to do? Maybe if she killed him herself? But there was no time.

Then like a flash an idea popped into her head. Lucille whipped out the little black book, fumbling for her pen.

On the opposite end, her past self was stood in the mass of people, still questioning her decision, when the black book she was holding suddenly shifted. A page had been folded.

As she opened the page, her body immediately became rigid.

In black scrawled hand-writing was the repeated phrase “He murders Belle!”

The penny suddenly dropped. She hastily turned and ran after the man, pushing between bodies and bags, pushing any obstacles out of her way. It clicked! She hadn’t told anyone her child’s name. Only one person knew...her.

Not far ahead, the man was standing on a platform with a phone to his ear and next to him, a train leaving the station.

Mustering all of her strength, she ran at the man, and as the train gained momentum she pushed him from behind forcing him down onto the tracks.

As Lucille desperately hoped her plan had worked, she had an unfamiliar feeling. Looking down at her transparent hands, she saw the tiled station floor, her hands were vanishing.

A young Lucille bolted for cover, hiding from the bloody scene; the adrenaline pulsing through her body. She frantically opened the book once more and with an expression of desperate hope mixed with relief, scribbled a message.

As Lucille sank to the ground, her body started to dematerialise. But she noticed a message appearing in the book. And in her last few moments, she smiled at the written words “we did it” before finally fading away.