1
Phut.
Wednesday slumps forward, head landing on the conference table with a thud. Their eyes are open, staring at nothing and looking at no-one; not anymore. Blood trickles out of the bullet wound which has fixed itself in the centre of Wednesday’s forehead; a wound that wasn’t there moments before and hadn't been entirely unexpected. For most, if not all, a budget meeting wouldn’t end with a gunshot and a corpse. For most, this would come as a nasty shock; a horrible surprise. For most, the news budget cuts ending in redundancy would be a simple case of updating a spreadsheet, removing a name from the employee database and making sure they were off the payroll. You would be forgiven for thinking this, as you are most people. But not here. After all, this wasn’t an ordinary job and it wasn’t an ordinary meeting. When you are called into The Office of Baines & Sykes - known to most as The Auditors - to discuss the budget, you weren’t always expected to walk out. And today was Wednesday’s last day. The one thing that Wednesday didn’t understand was why they had been chosen ahead of their six colleagues. As Wednesday watched the gun point in their direction, the last look on their face was one of genuine surprise. The last thought that crossed their mind would go unanswered. Me? I’m the bridge to the weekend. Everyone hates Monday. And they’re choosing me? But—
Phut. They would never finish the thought and never receive an answer.
John Baines sits across from Wednesday’s former colleagues. He stares at the lifeless form of Wednesday, head bleeding colour into the grey decor of their office. His own colleague, Emilia Sykes stands to address the remaining members of The Days of the Week Department. She places the still smoking gun back into its metal case and hands it to him. He takes it from her and seals it away, eyes remaining fixed on Wednesday, as they fade slowly out of existence. He glances at the calendar on his desk; his new 6-Day-A-Week calendar sits next to his new 20-Hour-A-Day clock with no hint that they hadn’t always belonged there.
Sykes, notices a speck of blood on the lapel of her grey suit and the collar of her white shirt. She takes a grey handkerchief from her pocket and cleans the remaining evidence that Wednesday had ever existed. She folds the handkerchief, returns it to her pocket and fixes The Remaining Days with a stare.
“Now that it’s just the six of you, work’s going to get a little harder. Make sure you don’t end up like Wednesday here. OK? We’ll spread out the Calendar Events attributed to Wednesday to the rest of you in due course. That’s all. You can go now.”
The Remaining Days leave without a word. Baines stands and returns to his desk. He nods at Sykes. She nods back. Good work. Job well done. It passes between them wordlessly. Sykes begins to clear away the paperwork and files that remain on the conference table.
Baines turns in his chair and looks out the office window. The view is beautiful; a clear blue river separates their world and the rest. He takes in the river, and the snow-capped mountains beyond. He closes his eyes and remembers.
A series of images, bathed in sunlight, swim through the tide of his mind. A picnic basket. A blanket being thrown down. Grass, clouds, sky. We hear a child’s laughter. A woman stands, smiling. The woman speaks to him. John. John. Then the voice changes into one he is more familiar with now.
“John?” It was Sykes. She stood behind him, files in her hands.
Baines opened his eyes. He’s firmly back in the office now; the colour and sunlight of the past is replaced with the grey office of the present. Baines turns and looks at his partner.
“John? You OK?” Sykes asked.
He fixes her with a practiced, assured smile. “I'm fine. Six day week, eh?” He shakes his head.
Sykes clicks her tongue and shrugs. “Wednesday had to go. They were costing us too much ”
John nods. “Aye. Aye maybe you’re right.”
“I’m going to get a coffee before the next one. Do you need anything?”
He fixes her with that same smile and shakes his head. “No. You go ahead. I’m fine.”
Sykes lets the feeling of concern linger for a moment. She thinks about saying something - maybe something reassuring - but decides better of it. She leaves Baines to his thoughts.
Baines starts to turn back to the window when the phone rings. He sighs and answers the call.
"Mother Nature on line one,” came the voice on the other end of the phone.
Baines lets out another involuntary sigh and rubs the weariness away from his eyes. “Put her through.”
He sighed a third time for good measure and went back to work.
2
Emilia Sykes walks through the reception area of The Office of Baines & Sykes - it was nice to have her name on the door - carrying two coffees and a brown paper bag with some sugary treats for her and Baines. As she passes through the reception, she sees Autumn, Spring, Summer and Winter sitting in the waiting area. They collectively look up as she walks by. Sykes gives them a weak smile and disappears through her office door as the Four Seasons share a nervous look.
Baines is sitting behind his desk when she returns. Sykes notices that he is looking at a picture on his desk in a gold-plated frame. It’s of a mother and child. Sykes assumed it was a picture of Baines and his own mother but she had never asked. He had been quiet lately, a lot quieter than he usually was. She put his coffee down on his desk and waved the bag of doughnuts at him. He gives her a weak smile back.
Sykes takes a sip of her coffee and lifts a set of files from the desk. “They’re early. You should have seen the look on their faces when I walked past. What’d you reckon they think they’ve been called in for?”
Baines doesn’t respond. Sykes sits in the chair opposite him. She takes a bite of doughnut, a swig of coffee and starts to flick through some of the files she’s collected. “I don’t understand why we’ve got to keep making these cuts. You’d think that she’d be happy with the work we’ve done already. 20 hour days, 6 day weeks. You know what I think? I think she’s just a tight arse.” She pauses, thinks then pursues the thought. “I bet she’s the type of person that goes to the toilet when the bill comes.”
She smiles at Baines but still nothing from him.
Sykes puts down the files. “John? You listening?”
He eventually looks up. “Hmm? Sorry, I was miles away.”
Sykes smiles. “Didn't hear a word I was saying, did you?”
He smiles weakly. “Sorry.”
Sykes leans forward in the chair and fixes her attention on Baines. “What’s on your mind?”
Baines looks at her. He shakes his head and tries to wave it away. “Ah, it’s nothing.”
Sykes shook her head. “It’s not nothing. We’ve worked together long enough for me to know when something isn’t right and something isn’t right.”
Baines takes a sip of coffee then sits back in his chair. He looks around him, taking in their office and then returns his attention to Sykes. “Do you ever think that what we’re doing is wrong? Do you think that what we do really makes a difference?”
Sykes doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t need to. “Yes. I do.”
Baines looks at the picture on his desk again and picks it up. “You know I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About when I was a kid.”
Sykes sat back in her chair. “What about it?”
Baines smiled. “My Mum and I used to make up this little hamper of food every week and take it out onto this flat bit of roof we had on our house. We used to do that every week. Without fail. Just sit there and talk. Watch the world go by, you know? I’ve been remembering this one time more and more lately. I’d come home from school pretty upset. It was one of those stupid careers day things where they asked you what you wanted to be when you grow up. And I didn’t know. I didn’t know what I wanted to do and for some reason I got upset. Really upset. Anyway when I got home and told her, she made our little hamper and went out onto the roof like we always did. But this time she turned to me and she smiled. And you know what she said?”
Sykes shook her head. “What?”
Baines smiled again. “She said ‘Whatever you do John, whatever you grow up to be, I know you’ll be the best there is. The very best. You’re going to grow up and do good things John. You’re going to make a difference. I can feel it.”
Sykes smiles. “She sounds like a nice woman. And a good mother.”
Baines nods then his smile fades. “I wonder what she’d say now if she knew just how wrong she was.”
Silence falls between them. The only sound echoing throughout the office is the ticking of their new clock that’s lost four hours. Sykes thinks for a moment then leans forward in her chair. “This job is a way of keeping the world from destroying itself, John. If it wasn’t for us, it would have stopped turning a long time ago.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Who told you that?”
“You did.”
Baines nods. “Maybe. Lately, I can’t help but feel like we’re making it worse.”
Sykes clicks her teeth and shakes her head. “You’re getting depressing as you get older. Do you know that?”
Baines laughs. “Aye. I know.” He stands up. “Right. I suppose we should go and put these poor bastards out of their misery.’
Sykes polishes off her doughnut and wipes the sugar dust away with the same handkerchief she used on Wednesday’s blood. “Game face?”
Baines nods. “Game face.”
3
In the reception area of The Office of Baines and Sykes, whilst those whose names are above the door drink coffee, eat doughnuts and discuss the merits of their job, the Four Seasons are nervously waiting. There are, of course, four of them. Spring is smartly dressed; a clean look. They sit with good posture and present an air of calm as they work through some breathing exercises; they are in meditative state. Summer is casual; they wear a hat backwards, a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts. Summer is chewing gum, swigging occasionally from a concealed can of hard seltzer and slouches, flicking through a magazine. Autumn is pacing the reception area; they wear faded brown and orange clothes that have lay forgotten in the cupboard. Their clothes are slightly ill fitting and a mismatch; they wears a faded brown jumper, an orange beanie and three-quarter length shorts. Autumn is jumpy; I suppose we all would be if we hosted Halloween every year. Finally, Winter sits in the area of the reception with least lighting. They are pale but pensive; wearing a thick knitted jumper, a pair of fingerless gloves, a knitted wooly hat and is reading a book. Occasionally, they look up and observe their colleagues over the top of their glasses.
Autumn continues to pace. Spring’s focus on their calm breathing exercises is interrupted and eventually they snap. “Would you just sit down and stop pacing? Please. It’s really annoying.”
Autumn opens their mouth to say something, loses the confidence to speak it and sits. Winter looks up from their book whilst Summer doesn’t pat an eyelid.
Autumn bites their fingernails. “I don’t know how you can all just sit there like nothing’s happening.
Spring rolls their eyes. “Nothing is happening.”
Autumn fixes Spring with a look of disbelief. “Did you see that look she gave us?”
Winter closes their book. “What look?”
Spring’s head is in their hands now. “There was no look.”
Autumn waves Spring away. “There was a look. There was a definite look. And it wasn’t a good one either.” Autumn’s voice drops to a whisper. “There’s been rumours you know.”
Winter raises an eyebrow. “Rumours?”
Spring sighs. “Please don’t indulge this.”
Autumn ignores Spring. “Yes. Rumours.”
Winter leans forward. “What kind of rumours?”
Spring shakes their head. “You indulged them. You had to go and indulge them.”
Autumn continues to ignore Spring, whispering conspiratorially. “Mother Nature is slashing everything. Cutting back. Budget cuts. Termination.”
Winter leans back, takes in this information then shakes their head. “I don’t think that’s what this is.”
Autumn bounces up again and resumes pacing. “Why else would we be called in at such short notice? Nah, we’re getting cut. I’m telling you. And you know how they let people go, don’t you? It’s not a clear your desk out leave your ID badge by the door type of gig. It’s—"
“—Oh would you lot just shut the fuck up?” Summer has had enough. Spring flinches when Summer speaks, cutting off Autumn.
Autumn shakes their head. “Summer, I’m telling you this isn’t—”
Summer raises their hand and silences Autumn again. “Listen. It’s probably a pat-back meeting.”
Winter turns to Summer. “Pat-back meeting?”
Summer beams a smile. “Aye. Like well done. Hottest summer on record for the past 30 years, quickest leaf disposal, cleanest spring, coldest winter - whatever. Pat yourself on the back. Good fucking job, You fucking rock, you sexy bastards. That type of meeting.”
Spring flinches and recoils from Summer. “Do you have to be so vulgar?”
Summer flashes Spring an innocent look. “What’d I say?”
Winter opens their book. “I think it was the swearing.”
Spring nods. “I was brought up to believe that swearing was a sign of the uneducated.”
Summer rolls their eyes. “Oh shut up and stop being such an uptight cu—”
The door to The Office of Baines and Sykes opens, cutting Summer off in full flow. Baines and Sykes, The Auditors themselves, step out. The Four Seasons snap to attention. Even Summer takes out their gum and adjusts their hat so it is facing the right way.
Sykes clears her throat. “We’ll see you now.”
The Four Seasons exchange a nervous glance as Sykes and Baines step back into their office. The four of them stand and follow them into the office to find out their fate.
I’m excited to share Part One of this brand new short story, The Auditors, Well, it’s brand newish. I originally wrote The Auditors as a short film script back in 2013 and was lucky enough to make the film in the same year with myself directing and Pan Breed Productions producing. As the seasons changed throughout the year, and as we settle into Winter, I’ve been thinking about this story and wondered if it would work as a short story - and I’m delighted that (I think) it does.
The Auditors is another one of my stories that I really love and one of my favourite parts of using Substack as the platform to share my writing is that I am able to rediscover old stories as much as I am discovering new.
This will be a two-part story, with Part Two being released next week (probably not next Sunday as it’s Christmas Eve, so likely during the week). When the short story is complete, I will share the link to watch the short film of this story.
Thank you to everyone for reading and subscribing. There was a lovely influx of new subscribers over the past few days, so welcome and I hope you enjoy discovering these stories here at Toasted Fiction as much as I enjoy writing them.