Windhaven/Issue 1

This is Issue 1 of Windhaven, entitled Welcome to Windhaven.

Welcome to Windhaven
A dark-haired man stumbled up the steps of a dirty apartment block’s stairwell. He staggered from side-t-side – not drunk, simply exhausted. Grey circles decorated his lower eyelid and an un-ironed navy suit hung from his shoulders. The top two buttons of his creased shirt had been undone, exposing the few strands of chest hair. A pin clung to his blazer’s pocket: ‘PC James Bailey. Camden Police Station.’

Tripping on the last step, James fell forwards, luckily catching himself with his hands. He grunted and shook his head; an attempt to keep himself awake. The man eventually pulled himself to his feet and staggered to the nearby apartment. Apartment 12B. James reached into his pocket and pulled out his key, attached only to a novelty Christmas keychain. He pushed the door open and entered quietly, immediately turning the lights on.

A grey cat approached the man. It purred loudly and rubbed it’s back against the man’s leg. “Hello Sphinx.” James greeted, sliding his rucksack off of his back and tossing it onto the dining room table.

The apartment wasn’t small, but it wasn’t very big either. It was the stereotypical bachelor’s studio apartment. Every corner of each room was furnished with big pot-plants or fancy wooden decorations – contrasting the stark appearance of the public hallway. James obviously wasn’t tight on money.

He walked over to the cupboards at the side of the dining room and propped himself up onto his tip-toes. Pushing numerous cardboard boxes to the side, James found what he was looking for and pulled out the paper shredder. It was a large, black contraption.

Then, James reached into his bag and pulled out a file. Across the front, ‘The Murder of Caleb Jennings’ had been printed. The man flicked through the file. There were dozens of documents and pictures – one of a man with a gunshot wound directly between his eyes. The image was grotesque, but James didn’t even grimace. He slammed the file shut and held it above the paper shredder.

He hesitated, biting his lip. Should he really be doing this? Still, he continued and began to push the paper through the shredder. James gulped.

Immediately afterwards, the exhausted man carried himself to his bedroom. He threw off the blazer, shirt and pants, climbing into bed wearing only his underwear. The cat curled up at the end of the bed, just next to James’ feet.

Next to the bed, on the nightstand, there was an alarm clock. The date was 21st February 2012. The time was 2:03am.

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The next morning, the alarm clock sounded at 7:00am. It buzzed loudly, waking the cat. The feline jumped from the bed and shot out the door. The alarm clock buzzed and buzzed and buzzed… for there was no-one to turn it off.

The bed was empty. James’ imprint remained in the mattress but his body did not.

__________________________________________________________________________________

James had had a horrible night’s sleep. Throughout the hours, he tossed and turned in his bed, vividly dreaming. After what seemed like half a night’s sleep, James rolled to his right and sighed. As soon as he opened his eyes, both his heart and stomach dropped. He was dangerously close to the end of his bed and would have fallen off, if it wasn’t for the… handcuffs.

The man’s eyes snapped open and immediately tried to focus. He was definitely not laying in his double bed. James gulped and took in his surroundings. He was lying on what seemed to be a hospital bed, wearing a traditional hospital gown.

The room was on the corner of a building, with large windows covering most of two walls. They were blocked by blinds, but James could see that it was still night. The other walls were painted a mint-green colour and the floor was made up of white tiles. Other than the hospital bed, a single chair and two lockers were the only other things in the room.

“Ah, Mr Bailey. You’re awake.” A voice came from the right of the bed. James turned his head to look to the doorway.

A man stood in a long lab coat. He had thin, brown hair that had been style upwards. Perched on the end of his nose were a pair of thin-framed black glasses. He was nervous and was not doing a good job of hiding it. He held his hands together in front of his waist, in an attempt to stop them from shaking.

“Tell me where I am.” James demanded.

The other man took a few steps towards him, stopping by the side of his bed. “You’re in Windhaven.” He revealed, raising his eyebrows.

“And where the hell might that be?!” James exclaimed. After getting no response, he threw his head back and sighed loudly. “Why am I handcuffed to this bed?”

The stranger ignored his questions. “My name is Dr Somme. My people found you just outside the town, lying on the road, in the rain. You were barely clothed and had nothing on you – no ID, no money…”

“If I had no ID, then how do you know my last name?” James asked.

Once again, Dr Somme ignored his question. The doctor walked to the end of the bed and picked up a clipboard. “We suspect that you’ve had a stroke. As we couldn’t get consent from any relatives, we had to wait until you woke up. All we need to do is drain a little blood for testing.”

“You do not have my consent.” James told him. “Now, let me out of these handcuffs.”

The doctor shook his head and crossed his arms. After glaring at the man for a while, Dr Somme pulled a key from his pocket and undid the handcuffs. James pulled them from his wrist and threw them across the room. He stood up from the bed and made his way out of the room.

“I wouldn’t go out at night!” Dr Somme called after him. “It’s not safe.”

“I can take care of myself!” James shouted back.

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After walking down two flights of stairs, James walked through the reception area and out onto the pavement. Rain hammered down from the sky, flattening his hair. The street he had found himself in was very ordinary. It was too ordinary - like it had been created to resemble the perfect city. Different types of shops lined the streets with little apartments situated above them. James looked down one of the roads to the left – suburban houses went on for as far as the eye could see.

There weren’t many lights still on in the village. Most of the apartments and houses had their lights turned off and their curtains drawn. The street was illuminated only by the street lamps. However, there was one building with it’s lights still on and curtains left undrawn. A plaque on the front of the building read ‘The Golden Forest.’ James could see that it was a restaurant. But, there were no customers. A blonde waitress dressed in a red uniform sat at the bar, which was being cleaned by a handsome man with curly, brown hair.

James was stumped. He had no idea what to do or where to go. He looked left and then looked right. Luckily, to his right, there was a woman standing a few feet away. She had her back to him but her flowing, greying hair could still be seen.

“Excuse me, miss.” He called out to her. “Could you tell me where I am? I mean, am I even still in the UK?”

The woman groaned loudly as she began to turn around. James’ felt his heart skip a beat. As she turned on the spot, he could see her foaming at the mouth. The irises of her eye were completely white and her ghostly pale skin was peeling off. Part of her fringe was separated from the rest of her hair and fell down to the ground.

“What the hell…” James began to step backwards, away from the woman. It was like nothing that he’d ever seen before. Luckily for him, the woman seemed to have a broken leg. She limped slowly, giving him time to increase the distance between them. Her hands extended outwards, dirty fingernails clawing at him.

Suddenly, an arrow flew through the air and pierced into the side of the woman’s skull. It made a blood-curdling squelching sound before the woman fell forwards. From in front of James, a man of Asian descent came running towards him. He had short black hair and wore an all-green uniform. The man bent down and pulled the arrow from the woman’s skull.

“Don’t worry, Lucas.” Dr Somme appeared at the door to the hospital building. “I’ve got this one.”

“Is he a new arrival?” Lucas asked. The doctor nodded. Lucas reached his hand out to James. Bewildered, it was a few seconds before James realised the gesture and shook his hand. “Don’t worry, you’ll be safe with me.”

“Thank you,” Dr Somme nodded at Lucas, and the man soon left. He then turned to James, reached into his pocket and took out two twenty-dollar bills. “Take this. We don’t need to drain blood immediately. Go into the Golden Forest and buy yourself a meal, then check into the hotel on Second Street.”

James took the money before speaking. “These are twenty dollar bills. This is American currency! I’m from England!”

“All will be explained, Mr Bailey.” Dr Somme told him before disappearing back into the hospital building.

James made sure the coast was clear before he moved. He didn’t want to run into any more of the… strange people. Once he knew that he was in no danger, James crossed the street and went into The Golden Forest.

It looked more like a diner than a restaurant. There were wooden panels along the walls and booths around the edge of the room. At one end of the room was a jukebox. It played soothing jazz music. Still in his hospital gown, James sat down at the bar.

“Ashley,” The brown-haired man wiping the bar motioned over to James. “We’ve got a guest.”

She raised her eyebrows in shock, as if they didn’t expect to have business in a restaurant. The girl grabbed a pen and a small notebook from the bar.

“We don’t normally get customers at this time.” The girl told James as she approached him.

“Well then, why do you keep the restaurant open this late?” The man replied. Nothing in this town seemed to add up. James leaned forwards to look at the blonde’s nametag – ‘Ashley.’

Like everyone before, she ignored the question. “What can I get for you?”

“How about… a bacon sandwich?” James asked.

“We’re a Mexican restaurant.” She frowned. James looked up at the girl. She didn’t seem to be too strange. Ashley had short, shoulder-length blonde hair and was very pretty. “I’ll just bring you the plainest thing from the kitchen. By the looks of you, I don’t think you’re in the mood for spicy food.”

While she walked away to the kitchen, James grabbed one of the metal knives and examined his reflection. He had cuts and bruises all over his face. One laceration on the top of his nose, one on his left cheek and another on his forehead. He spotted a bathroom and ran across the restaurant towards it. The barman sighed and shook his head.

James groaned, his bare feet coming into contact with some sort of liquid on the bathroom floor. Pushing the sloppiness out of his mind, the man walked over to the sink and stared into the mirror. His face looked awful, yet he felt no pain. He turned the faucet, cupped water in his hand and splashed it over his face. After repeating this action a few times, his face looked immaculate. No cuts, no bruises, no laceration. It was all make-up.

“This town does not make sense,” He mumbled to himself, before exiting the bathroom.

The barman stood in the way of the door, almost sending James flying backwards. He held a pile of clean clothes and shoes in his hand. James looked at the young man, confused once again. The man had a chiselled jawline and flowing dark hair. He reminded James of one of his niece’s many celebrity crushes.

“For you.” The barman held out the pile of garments.

“Why?” James asked another question.

“In this town, no-one gets the answer to that question.” He told James, thrusting the clothing onto him and returning to the bar.

__________________________________________________________________________________

A while later, James returned from getting dressed in the bathroom. He held the old hospital gown in his left hand. There was another strange thing – the barman obviously didn’t wear the same size clothes as James, yet they still fit him. It was like the whole thing had been planned out.

“Thanks for the clothes.” James pulled a fake smile as he sat at the bar.

“No problem, you’d be surprised how many times I’ve done that.” The barman made eye contact, cleaning out a glass with an old rag.

“How many times have you done this before?” The older man asked. “Why do you do it?”

“I told you – you keeping asking ‘why?’ but you’re never going to get an answer in this town. No-one does.” He replied. The young man grabbed a bottle of scotch whisky and poured it into a glass for James. “I’m Jose. You’ve just met my girlfriend – Ashley.”

“Who’s the owner of this place?” James had listened to what Jose had been saying but didn’t acknowledge it.

“I don’t know.” Jose shrugged.

James took a sip of the scotch. “Why don’t yo-” He stopped himself. No-one in Windhaven ever gets an answer when they ask why. “You’re a strapping young lad.” He told Jose.

“Well thanks,” The barman smirked.

“You couldn’t have been tending to a bar all of your life.” James said. “What did you do before this?”

Jose stopped cleaning and looked up at the stranger. His stomach dropped as all emotion drained from his face. This man was definitely very new to Windhaven. Jose flicked his head to the left, motioning to a plaque on the wall.

At the top of the plaque was a logo of sorts, with the letters and W and H entwined in each other. There were a set of rules beneath it. Rule 1 – Do not discuss the past. Rule 2 – Do not try to leave. Rule 3 – Always answer the phone when it rings. Rule 4 – Always obey the speaker. Rule 5 – Be happy.

James gulped. Windhaven was as scary as it was confusing.

“Here’s your bill for the scotch.” Jose placed the bill face-down on the bar.

“I didn’t ask for it! I’m not gonna pay!” James told him before looking at the small piece of paper. Jose had scribbled something on the back of the bill – ‘Microphones in bar stools. Cameras in wine bottles behind bar. They’re watching.’

The police constable looked up at Jose. He looked perfectly fine, like nothing suspicious had happened. He’d obviously done that before.

Ashley – the waitress – emerged from the kitchen doors. She placed a small basket in front of James and sat on the barstool beside him. The basket carried a Grilled Cheese, which had been placed on top of a few napkins.

“It’s not much but it’s all I could think to make. We won’t charge you.” Ashely told him.

“Thanks, I definitely need this.” James smiled at her.

He grabbed the toasted sandwich with both hands and took a rather large bite out of it. He was about to place it down when he noticed that Ashley too had written a message for him. ‘There are no owls in Windhaven. If you want to know more, find Beverly Lynn at 22.”

Ashley acted completely nonchalant as she walked behind the bar and poured herself a glass of water. After ten minutes, James had finished the grilled cheese. He thanked the pair and said his goodbyes before swiftly leaving.

__________________________________________________________________________________

A few buildings along from the restaurant, a young woman sat at the local hotel’s reception desk. She looked around thirty years old and had wavy black hair. She was unconventionally pretty.

The woman looked extremely bored, doodling away on one of the hotel’s flyers. She drew a picture of what was clearly herself, holding the hand of a little boy. The woman was a very talented artist.

The sound of a phone ringing filled the air. It made her jump, causing her to drop her pen. She inhaled and exhaled deeply before picking up the phone from the desk.

“Park View Inn, Hanna speaking. How many I help?” The woman had said the introduction so many times that she didn’t even have to think about it. She concentrated on the voice that came through the phone, thinking about nothing but what she was hearing. After a few seconds, she placed the phone back onto it’s stand. There was no ‘goodbye,’ no ‘thank you for calling.’

Hanna took a deep breath and paced up and down the space behind the counter. She ran her hands through her hair and sighed, before fanning herself with the notepad. As soon as she heard the bell sound, she jumped back into her seat.

There was a little bell that would catch on the entrance door and chime every time it was opened. As she expected, a twenty-something somewhat-muscular man entered the room – James Bailey. The man looked around as he entered. It was a very traditional hotel, with a carpeted floor and walls that were half-wood, half-wallpaper. He approached the desk and placed both hands on it.

“I’d like to book a room.” He simply said.

“Okay,” Hanna nodded. She smiled at him in an attempt to be friendly… But quickly stopped when he didn’t return the gesture. “What’s the name?”

“James. James Bailey.” He told her.

“Ooh, like James. James Bond.” She chuckled. He did not look amused. She stopped laughing and turned back to the computer screen. “We already have a booking in that name. And, it seems that tonight is the first night that the room is reserved, too. It must be for you.”

“I didn’t make a booking.” James said, puzzled again. “What’s the end date of the booking?”

“No worries. Drake must have done it for you.” Hanna guessed. “The booking ends… never. There’s no end date.”

The man opened his mouth to speak but soon stopped. It had been a very long day. Hanna placed the room key on the desk in front of him. “I’d like a wake-up call, please. At eight o’clock.”

“Sure thing.” She told him. “Your key is there and you’re on the second floor, room 12. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Without a word of thanks, James grabbed the key and walked towards the stairs. Hanna tutted and picked up her pen, resuming her drawing.

__________________________________________________________________________________

James shut the door behind him as he walked into a hotel room. He hadn’t been in such an old-fashioned hotel in years. Most of the hotels that he visited had used key-cards on the doors, not actual keys. There was a bathroom on the left as he entered and the bed was around the corner of the L-shaped room. There was only one window in the room. Leaves of a large, bushy tree pushed up against the glass panel.

The man sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off the shoes that Jose had kindly given him. Outside somewhere, an owl loudly hooted. James fell backwards and let out a loud sigh. His eyes fluttered to a close…

Abruptly, he jumped up from his bed. Ashley’s note: What did it say? ‘There are no owls in Windhaven.’

“Just one more thing and I’ll go to sleep.” He told himself.

The policeman walked over to the window. After sliding the glass to the side, he looked at the tree. James reached forwards and separated two of the branches. Attached to the middle of the tree, James could see a small speaker laid, no bigger than the palm of his hand. The ‘owl’ hooted again. Although, it wasn’t really an owl. The sound came from the speaker.

“There are no owls in Wayward Pines.” He spoke to himself, letting the branches go and shutting the window.

His feet dragged along the floor as James made his way over to the bed. Slowly, he undressed himself and climbed under the duvet. For a moment, he hesitated – should he really be sleeping in a strange bed in a strange town? However, sleep soon fell over him.

__________________________________________________________________________________

“Mr Bailey!” Hanna shouted, standing at the end of his bed. “You asked for a wakeup call!”

James’ eyes fluttered open. He rubbed his face before sitting up in the bed. The door to his room had been propped open with a chair and Hanna stood in front of him, carrying a tray which held tea and toast.

“What are you doing? I ask for a call- a wake-up call.” He told her. “You know, from the phone.”

Hanna placed the tray on the end of his bed. “No-one uses the phones except the speaker.” She revealed. James shook his head, still not understanding anything. With no response from him, Hanna turned around and began to walk towards the door.

“Wait!” He stopped her, grabbing his t-shirt from the side and putting it on. “How do you know my last name? I never told you what it was.”

The woman turned back around to see James standing there in nothing but a t-shirt and a tight pair of white pants. Without thinking, her eyes focused on his bulge. “Um…”

He cleared his through and repeated himself. “How do you know my last name?”

She snapped back into the room and shook her head. “Oh, sorry. The speaker - he told me your name.”

“Who’s the speaker?” James asked her.

“You need to stop asking questions that no-one knows the answers to.” Hanna instructed, before swiftly leaving the room.

After devouring the toast in a few bites, the man gulped down the tea and slipped on the same clothes as the previous day. Something rustled in the pocket of his jeans. It was the receipt. James looked again at what Ashley had written. “There are no owls in Windhaven. If you want to know more, find Beverly Lynn at 22.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

James quickly made his way outside, passing through the reception and ignoring Hanna. She had called after him, shouting that she had to tell him some important things about the town.

The man passed the Golden Forest and turned down one of the streets. After walking for a short while, he realised that all of the buildings were numbered. All of the houses and shops had been given a number, despite being on separate roads. This odd numbering system made it easier to locate Beverly Lynn’s house.

Her house was stereotypically colonial and matched the surroundings. Wooden sliding lined the walls with some sections of the house covered with stylish exposed brick. A dense forest stood behind the house.

Taking a deep breath, James approached the house and knocked on the door twice. No response. He knocked for a second time. Again, there was no response.

In the corner of his eye, something moved in the window. He jolted his head to the right, taking the observer by surprised. James didn’t get a good look at the figure in the window as they quickly retreated – an old woman, maybe.

“I just want to talk!” The man exclaimed, banging on the door with a clenched fist.

A moment later, the door moved open by a few inches – the latch preventing it from opening any further. An older woman could be seen through the small gap in the door. The woman had auburn coloured-hair that had been tied up; loose hairs falling down across her face. Stress lines creased the sides of her eyes and decorated her forehead. A single jade green eye looked James up and down.

“Go away.” She told him. “You’re new. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Are you Beverly Lynn?” James asked. “Ashley sent me here.”

“Yes, I am! Now, keep your voice down or they’ll hear you!” Beverly scolded.

“I just need to someone to answer my questions. She said that you were that someone!” He pleaded with the woman.

Beverly stepped slightly to the right, exposing her other eye to the sunlight. Without thinking, James’s draw dropped open in shock. The sclera of was miscoloured – the usually-white area had become a soft pink colour. Likewise, the iris had also changed; now a sickening mustard colour. The woman pointed to her eye with a shaking finger.

“This is what happens when you start asking questions!” Beverly spoke through gritted teeth. “They find you and they hurt you! And – believe it or not – but I’m one of the lucky ones! I’ve learnt my lesson. Keep asking questions and you’ll suffer a fate worse than death.”

And, with that, the door slammed on James’s face. Motionless, he stood for a second, trying to process the woman’s actions…

__________________________________________________________________________________

“You lied to me!” James shouted, storming into the Golden Forrest. He paced up to Ashley until he was just metres in front of her face. The blonde had been serving a table of guests and turned away to look at the intruder. Jose looked up from the bar and watched with a stern look on his face. “I didn’t find shit.”

“Mr. Bailey, I think…” As she spoke, Ashley kept looking to the left, motioning to one of the guest’s sitting at the table. “… You need to calm down.”

“Ashley, are you okay?” A gruff voice came from one of the people at the table. Lucas Minzey – the guard that had saved James’s life the previous day – placed his fork down and began to rise from his seat.

“No, we’re good.” Ashley faked a laugh. “I was just joking when I said the new burger joint was opening up on the corner of Seventh Street.” James’s eyes jolted back and forth from the girl to Lucas, not quite understanding the situation. Reluctantly, Lucas slowly retook his seat. “Anyway, I’ve been looking for you, James. There’s a leaking faucet in the kitchen and I need a nice, strong man to come and tighten it for me.”

The young woman walked over to the kitchen doors and pushed one open. She held it in position, urging James to enter the back portion of the restaurant. Puzzled, he complied. The kitchen room was extremely steamed-up and loud. Food sizzled in pans and taps that had been left running added to the noise. Ashley closed the door behind him and sighed heavily.

“Callum!” She called to the chef at the back of the room. “Can you give us a moment?”

The man nodded. He left quietly, leaving a piece of chicken sizzling - unattended in a frying pan.

“What the hell are you playing at?!” Ashley yelled, struggling to keep her voice down. “That’s Lucas Minzey! The head of security at Windhaven!”

“If he’s the head of security, then why isn’t he using his power to get us out of here?” James interrogated.

“He’s in on it! This town – whatever it’s purpose is! He knows about it!” She exclaimed. “He constantly reminds us of the rules and punishes anyone that doesn’t follow them.”

James sighed, not knowing what else to say. “Please – just tell me where we are.”

“Don’t you get it? I don’t know where we are!” She admitted. “Nobody does! Not me, not you, not Jose, not Mrs. Jacobson at number 44! Nobody! People just… appear in this town a-and they never leave! Have you even tried to leave? Tried to steal a car and drive out of the city?”

Hesitant, James’s voice cracked as he spoke. “No, I haven’t.”

“Why not?” Ashley questioned.

“I don’t know… I just-”

“It’s because there is only one car in this town and it belongs to Minzey!” Ashley shouted. “You don’t really think this is a real town, do you? What sort of real town has rules plastered on the walls of every single room in it? In what real town do people walk with their heads hanging low, in constant fear of the horrible punishment? In what real town does a nameless speaker give out orders through phone calls and watch us through hundreds of cameras? Do you think people would willingly come to this place?”

“Ashley, I…” He was rather taken aback by her outburst. It wasn’t surprising, really. If given the chance, James guessed that most people would explode, just the same as Ashley. “If you’re so scared of punishment, then why are you saying this? Surely, they must be able to hear you.”

“Why do you think the taps are running and burnt food is left smoking on the stove?” She continued with the questions. “The sound blocks the microphones and the smoke blocks the cameras. This is the only goddamn place in Windhaven where we’re not being watched. If you wanna speak your mind and talk shit about the town: this is where you come to do it. Outside of this room: you keep your mouth shut and act happy.”

‘Act happy.’ The juxtaposition sent a chill down James’s spine. People don’t act happy – they’re either happy or they’re not. Windhaven was surely a strange place.

“Why doesn’t everyone come together and rebel against… whoever runs this place?” He wondered.

“Fear…” Ashley gulped. “Fear keeps everyone in line.”

There was a moment of silence between the pair, both letting out an aggravated sigh. James took a step forwards before speaking again.

“Ashley…” He began. “What’s the punishment? Beverly mentioned… a fate worse than death.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

Back in the main restaurant, Jose tended to the bar. He slid a mojito across the bar to one of the female customers. She retaliated with a flirtatious wink and passed the young man a twenty-dollar bill. Jose was faithful to Ashley – completely faithful – but he wasn’t against using his good looks to draw some extra money out of the woman. Hell, it even worked on some men too.

Abruptly, the sound of a phone ringing filled the air. The chatter in the restaurant almost instantly stopped. All of the customers – except from Lucas – turned and looked at the phone behind the bar.

“You should probably answer that,” Lucas smirked, nonchalantly stabbing a piece of steak with his fork.

Jose slowly approached the phone. With a shaking hand, he picked it up and held it to his ear. There was no greeting - just instructions from the voice. “Put Ashley Cousins on the line.”

“It’s for Ashley.” The bartender called out to the restaurant.

A coherent sigh of relief came from the onlookers, almost instantaneously restarting their conversations. Lucas laughed quietly, shaking his head. Jose placed the phone back on the stand and disappeared to the kitchen.

“Oh Jose, can’t it wait?” Ashley sighed at the interruption.

“No, it can’t.” He spat. “You’ve got a phone call.”

The blonde’s face dropped. Initially, her eyes grew wide in fear, before gritting her teeth and scowling at James. She left the restaurant, pushing past James.

“Ashley here.” She spoke into the phone, trying the best to keep her voice sounding normal.

“You have a vacancy at your restaurant.” The monotonous voice revealed. James sat opposite the woman, on one of the barstools. “Mr. James Bailey is now employed at The Golden Forrest as your new chef. Callum Pratt’s contact has been terminated.”

Ashley frowned in her confusion. The watchers – the people behind the cameras – they must have seen James’s outburst. Why would they choose to employ him at the restaurant?

“It is up to you to let him know. He must begin work immediately.” The voice terminated.

“What was it?” Jose appeared, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Ashley turned to James and held her hand out. “Welcome to the Golden Forrest, Mr. Bailey.”