I’d seen some fucked-up shit in my life. Murder. Dismemberments. Decapitation. Things that people don’t usually see. People wouldn’t even want to see. Hell, I didn’t want to see that kind of stuff but I had. I used to have weird friends who sent me weird things. The saving grace at least was that I’d only ever seen it through another medium. Videos or pictures. I never would have thought I’d see it with my own eyes.

  I wasn’t really sure what to do. Wasn’t sure if it was shock I was feeling or I was just completely desensitised to such things but my eyes remained on the head that had settled on the floor on the base of its neck. It was bald, and had a goatee with a pointed beard, and purple eyes that almost seemed to glow. Most odd was the opal-shaped gem that was embedded in its forehead – it was clear, with a dull shine and a smidgen of blood from where my finger had touched it.

  I looked at the girl sleeping peacefully on the bed. If it wasn’t obvious by now, I wasn’t really the kind of guy who spent ages thinking things through. I was impulsive, reckless and a risk-taker. Actions first, consequences later. Actually, reckless was unfair to me. I was just quick to weigh up the options and make decisions. Sometimes, for the better. Sometimes, for the worse.

  Like this girl. If I had left her back on the road, even if I’d called an ambulance and left, the police would have been on my case because it was a hit-and-run. If I had waited with her, I would have been arrested for the lack of insurance. Either way, they would have found the head, and who knows what questions I would have needed to answer.

  As it was, that head was now on my guestroom floor and I had another decision to make. Call the police anyway and explain how it was that I came to be in this position in the first place, or put the head back into the sack and come to an agreement with the young woman. I wouldn’t say anything if she doesn’t. Wouldn’t even have to give her any money or food.

  But I knew what the right thing was to do so the latter option wasn’t really an option at all. I wasn’t a stranger to questionable decisions – God knows, I’d made enough of them in my life, but I did have a moral compass. I might sail close to the wind at times, but there were some lines I wasn’t prepared to cross. This was one of them. I needed to call the police and deal with the fallout. Actions first, consequences later.

  As I made to step out of the room, the head caught my attention. The clear stone began to glow, but not only that – of its own accord, it seemed to be ripping free of the man’s forehead. It tugged and yanked, pulling loose with strands of flesh and sinew holding onto it like a jilted lover. The tug of war didn’t last long as the gem ripped free and flew right towards my head.

  I didn’t even have the chance to duck as the gem bore into my forehead with such force that it felt like I was being slowly squeezed by a hydraulic press. I wanted to scream but even with my eyes bulging and every muscle in my body clenched, my face straining, I fought against the urge. I grabbed my head in my hands, my fingers digging into my shaved scalp, as I curled over on the ground and made a long, guttural grunt that soon turned into a high-pitched whine, doing my best to not be too loud. Even within that pain, the last thing I needed was Carmen waking up. Or worse, the neighbours hearing. Amazing sometimes the things we have self-control for. Pain – yes. Losing money – no.

  Light flared from the centre of my forehead as the gem dug deeper, boring through the flesh, until it brushed against my skull, nestled in, pressed against the bone. Only then, did the pain begin to recede. I was on the floor, curled over on my side like a baby, head in my hands. I felt around my forehead and found the smooth bump, right in the middle. Slowly, I got to my feet, stumbled out of the room, pain throbbing where the gem was, and quietly made my way to the bathroom and the mirrored cabinet there. I switched the light on, looked at myself in the mirror.

  There were tears streaking over the bags under my brown eyes and over my slightly plump cheeks and right there, in the middle of my forehead, was the opal-shaped gem. It was turquoise-coloured now – not clear like I had seen earlier, surrounded by smudged blood trickling over my eyebrows. I prodded the gem with my fingers but it wouldn’t budge. It was a part of me like an unwanted cyst. It was deeper than how it had seemed on the other man’s head, skin covering its outer edges.

  The only way I could think to remove it would have been to take a knife to it. Cut into the skin and pop it out but honestly, I wasn’t sure that would even work. Something about it told me that it would forcefully resist being removed. While I was alive at least.

  I washed my face of the blood – my finger too, which was still bleeding slightly. I rummaged around the cabinet, looking for a plaster. I swear, if I didn’t need it I would have found all sorts of plasters in there. Round ones. Long ones. Short ones. Fat ones. Every type for any occasion. Note to self: buy some damn plasters. I shut the cabinet a little louder than I wanted to and left the bathroom.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The bedroom door opposite was closed. My girlfriend would be sleeping. I wasn’t in the mood to risk waking her up or going to sleep myself. I popped back into the guestroom, turned the lamp off, and quietly shut the door behind me as I made my way to the lounge.

  My mind ran through those ridiculously small concerns people have when some sort of incident happens in their life. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would explain what’s happened to my girlfriend. Or how, when I returned to work after the holidays, I would explain to my colleagues why I had a gem inserted into my forehead. Or just what random people on the streets would think as I walked past them or shared a bus or tube with them.

  Maybe I would forever have to wear a durag or a cap. Or I could try to find a discreet plastic surgeon. Test my theory whether the stone could be removed while I was alive.

  I walked through the lounge, past the dining table and the cabinet, and out onto the small balcony that fit the circular table and two chairs we had out there with a little room to spare. The view looked south, over Primrose Hill and Regent’s Park and stretched into the distance where the bright lights of Central London could be seen. I lit a cigarette and sat down. I was a heavy smoker on the best of days and today wasn’t the best of days.

  With my free hand, I felt the gem again, as if maybe this time it wouldn’t be there and everything was just some unreasonable dream I was having. But nope. It was there. Calling the police was out of the question now. How would I go about explaining why a gem that was quite clearly in that decapitated head’s forehead was now in mine? I’d probably get done for abuse of a corpse.

  More concerningly, what the hell was this gem? I took a couple of puffs on the cig as I replayed the memory in my mind of how the gem had been clear and ripped loose of that person’s head and how it had driven into mine and had turned turquoise. The brain was an incredible machine, capable of filling gaps in logic and reality but there’s no way I could reconcile what I’d just seen. I mean, the gem was stuck in my forehead! If it had fallen to the floor or something, I’m sure my brain would have come up with some novel excuse for what had happened.

  And then there was the girl. I didn’t think I was wrong to have brought her up. She was uninjured. Sleeping. I couldn’t have known what she was carrying when I’d brought her up. It wasn’t really on my mind to check when I just needed to get her out of the street as quick as possible. But she’d have questions to answer, that’s for sure.

  She’s the only one who could tell me what this gem was. She was the one who had taken the head. Maybe it was the gem she was actually after? Maybe she’d know how to remove it. I’d be happy with that. Let her wake up, have her remove the gem and be on her way and put this whole night behind me. Things had taken such a turn for the worse, I’d almost forgotten about the money I’d lost earlier.

  “River?” a soft voice said behind me. Carmen’s voice. She sounded like she was stood by the lounge entrance. Why was she up already? Oh, that’s right. This was something she wouldn’t approve of.

  We’d met four years earlier, both in the final year of uni – she had been twenty-one then, an international student from Hong Kong. I had been twenty-four. My life had gone a bit off the rails when I was younger. Schooling had been an afterthought.

  At the time, she had been one of those girls who always needed to be with someone and I was one of those guys who was just grateful to have someone to split the bills with amongst other perks. She was rich, beautiful, fit, but I knew it wasn’t the best relationship – I wasn’t blinded to the nights she hadn’t spent at home or those last minute ‘business’ trips that we had never addressed. But we did work well together. Even with all the problems. We rarely had heated arguments, and we had each other’s back.

  I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want her to see my forehead, but I spoke over my shoulder. “What you doin’ up?”

  “I’m thinking the same about you,” she said, closer this time. She was coming towards me. She hadn’t gone to the guestroom otherwise she would have said something.

  “I couldn’t sleep. Didn’t wanna disturb you,” I replied.

  She came out on to the balcony and took the seat next to me, but I still didn’t look at her. The moon wasn’t out but there was enough ambient light in the air that I was sure she would see the gem. I even turned my head away from her a little.

  “If that was true, why are you dressed?”

  “Ran out of ciggs.” The response was so quick, it almost sounded true.

  She didn’t get the chance to respond. The silhouette of the Central London skyline suddenly went dark. All the lights turned off at the same time, like a citywide blackout. No matter which way I looked, it was pitch black.

  Then the explosions began.

  First, to my right, in the west of London, a massive fireball went up, flames reaching to the sky. Moments later, it was followed by another. From where I sat, that one looked a few metres away from the first but it must have been several miles. Then there were more, all across London, fireballs flaring to the skies above, and where they were closer to us, thunderous booms could be heard in their wake.

  “What is happening?” Carmen said, looking out over the mayhem. I was wondering the same thing as I kept spotting a new explosion in other parts of the city. The big ones were really noticeable, but here and there were smaller ones. I could see them close to home. On the roads. Cars crashing, their headlights suddenly off, the roads covered in darkness.

  This time, it was me who didn’t get to respond.

  A holographic blue screen appeared in front of me and in the middle of it were two words in red.

  [System Initialising]