Carrie's Calamity

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

By the time the police left, Carrie wasn’t sure how she’d managed to escape arrest. She’d never had to deal with them before, even in her younger, wilder years. Their endless probing questions had made her fearful, but she’d answered as honestly as she could. She really didn’t have any idea how or why the products supplied by Carrie Hatchett Enterprises had suddenly become involved in numerous accidents across the nation.

What had perhaps worked in her favour was the fact that the police seemed to discredit some of the incredible stories that Alice had heard from customers. The people phoning in had said that the tools and equipment had actually come to life. What was more, they’d said that, after committing various violent acts, the appliances had actually run away.

The police hadn’t asked her about anything like that. They’d said that Carrie Hatchett products were faulty and dangerous. They’d brought in inspectors to check her company’s safety compliance in its manufacturing standards. Thankfully, the earlier Carrie had been responsible and thorough, and the preliminary inspection had found nothing wrong.

Yet she felt frazzled and stressed by the time the police and inspectors finally departed. The staff had also gone home for the day, leaving the phones continuing to ring. The voice mail would be full by morning.

Carrie said good bye to the security guard and went out to her car. It was the first moment she’d had to herself since before chatting with Dave that morning. She suddenly felt very tired and hungry. She got in her car and started it up, promising herself that she wouldn’t check any messages on her land line when she arrived home. She wouldn’t put it past the angry customers to find out her home phone number and call her there.

She wouldn’t blame them if they did. The equipment her company made had caused terrible problems. But she needed some time alone to think and figure it all out. She had already issued an immediate recall of everything manufactured by Carrie Hatchett Enterprises. It would bankrupt the company, no doubt, but it was the least she could do.

Carrie drove around the corner into her street, and her heart sank. The press had found out where she lived. A horde of reporters, cameramen and photographers were hanging around her house. They were even in her garden, trampling her flowers.

For a split second, she considered doing a U-turn and driving to Dave’s house. With luck, no one would spot her and follow her there. But then she remembered Toodles and Rogue. They would be waiting for her and their evening meal.

Resigned, Carrie continued driving to her house. She beeped her horn when she reached her driveway. The press were obstructing it, but a gap appeared as they caught sight of her and rushed forward. Carrie eased her car through the space, trying to avoid hurting anyone. Some of them were being foolishly unsafe in their eagerness to snap a photo of her. The reporters were shouting questions through her car’s windows with their faces pressed up against the glass.

Carrie put on her handbrake and turned off her engine. She grabbed her handbag and pushed open her door against the weight of bodies.

“Let me out.”

She entered the melee and began forcing a path through the men and women.

“Ms. Hatchett, are you aware how many people have been injured by your equipment?” a voice shouted. “How much compensation will you be paying the victims?” asked another. “Do you expect a custodial sentence?” asked a third.

Her handbag tight under her arm. Carrie inched through the crowd. She finally made it to her front door. Stepping inside her home, she turned to face the jostling men and women. “No comment.” She shut the door and locked it.

Carrie ran to her windows, ignoring an over-excited, barking Rogue, and closed all her curtains and blinds. Meanwhile, her doorbell was ringing incessantly. After investigating the device for a minute or two, she figured out how to disconnect it. The ringing stopped.

She flopped onto her sofa and put a hand over her eyes. Just as she was about to burst into tears Rogue jumped up next to her. He licked her face.

“You aren’t allowed up here,” Carrie said. She cuddled him. Something soft and warm had settled on her lap. She stroked Toodles, who purred and rubbed her head against Carrie’s hand. “What would I do without you two? Ah...ah...atchoo!” She groaned and found some tissues so she could blow her nose.

After feeding her pets, Carrie went upstairs to her home office and turned on her computer. She wanted to find out what might have gone wrong with her company’s products. The idea that they could suddenly come alive was preposterous, yet that was what people had said.

She checked the news websites, which showed video footage from CCTV cameras and mobile phones. In one of the videos, a man was shown running down a tree-lined street pursued by a tripod of some kind. The object was running along on its three legs, slowly gaining on the terror-stricken man. In another video, a woman was engaged in a fight with a snapping metal box-like structure. She was bashing it with a metal spatula and fending it off.

Carrie clasped her hands under her chin and peered at the screen. There was something terribly familiar about what she was seeing, but she could hardly believe her suspicion. Could it be true? Could her work with the Transgalactic Council have become dreadfully entwined with her life on her home planet?

Briefly, she wondered if she was only finding a convenient scapegoat for what was happening. The explanation that there might be another reason for what was going on, other than her company’s incompetence, was tempting. But, no—the resemblance to what she’d seen so often in her role as a Liaison Officer was unmistakable.

The light on her mobile was flashing. Another call. She had turned off the sound. Carrie was about to ignore it like all the rest when she saw that the call was from Dave.

“Hi,” she said as she answered. “Have you seen the videos on the news? Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I absolutely am. But more importantly, are you okay? I saw you on the news too, fighting through all the reporters. Are they still there outside your house?”

“I haven’t looked recently. Probably.”

“You poor thing. The police should give you protection.”

“I’m not contacting them. I thought they were going to arrest me earlier. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I can deal with the media. Back to the Carrie Hatchett products going berserk. Shall I contact our Council manager or do you want to?”

“You do it. You’re the only one who can pronounce her name.”

“I’m not sure about that, but I’ll give it a try. I’ll call you back, okay?”

Carrie went to find her Transgalactic Intercultural Community Crisis Liaison Officer toolkit and took out her translator, which also worked as a communication device. She silently wished it was her former manager, Gavin, she was about to contact. But he’d been dismissed from the Transgalactic Council for reckless and dangerous behaviour. The fact that his heroic act had saved Carrie and Dave from being trapped in the past didn’t matter to the Council, who expected their managers to behave sensibly.

Carrie also wished she could speak to Gavin because his name was a hell of a lot easier to pronounce than Errruorerrrrrhch, who was her current manager and Gavin’s off-again-on-again partner as well as mother of his more than one hundred children. Carrie could say most of Errruorerrrrrhch’s name, but both she and Dave struggled with the final syllable.

“Errruorerrrrrh,” she said into her translator. “Errruorerrrrrh.” If Carrie didn’t pronounce the name correctly, the communication wouldn’t go through. When no reply came for the second time, she raised her voice and said, “Errruorerrrrrhch.” A tiny spray of spittle flew out of her mouth.

The manager replied, “Transgalactic Intercultural—”

“Errruorerrrrrh,” said Carrie. “Please listen. We have a crisis here on Earth. Mechanical aliens are attacking us. I think it’s something to do with the placktoids.”