Kogun (standard:horror, 3630 words)
Author: Lev821	Added: Jul 02 2009	Views/Reads: 3143/1926	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A new employee turns up for work with new injuries. Perhaps his boss should not investigate why.

He noticed it as soon as he walked through the door, and was about to
mention it, but then thought better of it as the youth settled behind 
his desk and set about turning on his computer. His black-eye looked 
angry and painful, spread across the cheek-bone and blending away on 
his right temple, as though prior to coming into work he had gotten 
himself into a nasty fight, him on the losing side. He seemed to get on 
with his work as though it wasn't there, and that, he thought, was not 
good for business, so he decided to approach him and ask him about it. 

Kevin Harlow was a manager at ‘Global tourist' travel agents, was 43,
and had worked there for six years. He promoted the casual approach to 
work, on the understanding that a less formal appearance made them more 
endearing to the customers. They had uniforms and had to look smart, 
but it wasn't essential that they looked as smart as possible. Kevin 
always had the top button of his shirt open, and wore a glitter ball 
stud earring meant for women. He, however, didn't know that, but nobody 
mentioned it. He liked to think of himself as a good, trendy boss, and 
would sometimes at the wave of hand tell a worker to have the rest of 
the day off, but he was still their superior, and superiors and workers 
never mixed. They would never meet for a drink afterwards, and nor 
would he be invited. With colleagues of a similar level to him, he 
would never invite out a travel consultant, just like a group of 
doctors on a business trip would never invite the cleaner, which was 
not to say the cleaner was any less intelligent. It was just the way 
things were. 

Martin Ramsden had worked for ‘Global tourist' for two weeks, and had
seemed fairly decent so far. He had obtained the job through the normal 
method, having seen the advert in the job centre, sent in his CV and 
application form, had an interview with Kevin, and had started the 
following Monday. At 22 years old, he had never received job-seekers 
allowance, and had came straight from university, obtaining a travel 
and tourism degree. He was a thin, lithe figure, almost gaunt, as 
though a strong gust of wind would blow him over. He could have been 
called a wannabe hippy, but he wasn't particularly bothered about the 
environment, or animals. He once bought mice from a pet shop to feed to 
his cat, just to watch it play with and eat them. He had a pierced lip 
with a ball hoop, a stud in his upper left eyebrow, and long, stringy 
hair that seemed to permanently shine with grease. Kevin didn't know 
him that well, and nor did the other workers. He seemed not to mingle, 
and showed no interest in doing so. Early days, though, he had thought, 
but somehow could not see him being the life and soul of the office 
party at Christmas. He would probably be the one who never turned up, 
or reluctantly sat at his desk having been forced to wear a paper 
crown, then leaving early, or constantly looking out of the window. It 
seemed as though he would always keep himself to himself. He did 
however, know his job well, and nodded and smiled at the customers as 
trained, and what he was hired for. 

Kevin stood at the side of his desk, hands in pockets, waiting for
Martin to see him. After a few moments, he did. Kevin pointed to his 
own eye and made a slow circle motion. “What's with the...?” “Nothing,” 
said Martin, “It's fine, I'm alright”. He then busied himself back on 
the computer, and Kevin realised that was all he was going to say, then 
walked back to his office and sat down in his leather swivel chair. He 
looked at his computer screen, thought no more about it, and continued 
playing spider solitaire. 

The following morning at 08:30, Kevin was sat at his desk, replying to
an email, when there was a knock on the door, and Isabel, a 38 
year-old, overweight, dog-obsessed travel consultant walked in without 
waiting for an answer. She gave a quick glance out of the door and 
pushed it almost shut. She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “What's 
with Martin, his face is even worse. It can't be good for the customers 
to see that”. Kevin sighed. “I'll deal with it,” he said. Isabel left, 
and Kevin was close behind. He found Martin standing by the window, 
sipping a plastic cup of water. He stood beside him, looking out at the 
road, and train station opposite. Martin looked at him, and Kevin just 
about stopped himself from flinching. The left side of his mouth was 
swollen and purple. A solitary plaster covered a still bleeding cut. 
“What's happened Martin? We can't have you dealing with the customers 
like that”. “It's fine. There's nothing wrong. The public are not going 
to stop going on holiday just because of this,” he said, pointing to 
his face. He then drank all of his water, turned and walked back to his 
desk, throwing the cup into a colleagues waste-bin as he did. 


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