Saturday 11 April 2015

Zaak Xeroff

Zaak Xeroff sat high in the cliffs overlooking the lunar plain. He waited with absolute patience. He had quelled all movement in his body. Only his thoughts moved through his nano-engineered hind brain. Target logistics, size of weaponry and durability of the subject’s outer metal exoskeleton. These were the synaptic movements taking place in Xeroff’s mental circuitry.
All at once the target drove into sight and Xeroff’s arm carrying the sonic blaster raised and sighted on the moving vehicle…

Cecil Wood raised his eyes from the science fiction novel that he was reading and glanced hungrily at the line of similar type storybooks that lined his shelves.
To the left of the bookcase a poster depicting a satellite photograph of the gas giant, Jupiter, sporting it’s perpetually moving storm, the Red Eye.
By the door were two posters, one on which the stars of the night sky were depicted and the other displayed Star War’s galactic cruisers, Death Stars and the Millennium Falcon.
“Cecil!” a voice shouted. “Are you still upstairs? Your tea is getting cold!”
“Aw Mum,” wailed Cecil, “I’ve told you before; I want you to call me Zaak!”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Cecil’s bedroom door was suddenly thrown open to reveal the formidable figure of Cecil’s Mum. With a floral pinafore on, her hair in curlers and her feet shoved into her faithful old baffies, even Zaak Xeroff would have found battle with this entity daunting!
“Cecil, if you’re Dad and I had wanted to call you Zaak, we wouldn’t have christened you Cecil!” roared Mum. “Now, put down that stupid book and get downstairs and eat your tea!”

As Cecil ate his bacon, eggs and chips, his mother ranted on at him.
“It’s been the same since you left school. You just laze around the house reading those silly space books of yours. You need to get a job my lad and sooner the better.”
“Aww Mum, wailed Cecil, “I would if I could. I’ve been down the Job Centre a zillion times and there is nothing to be had!”
“Right then, you can wash the tea dishes tonight and Dad and I will watch the telly. OK?” she said.

As Cecil plunged the greasy plates into the hot soapy water he gazed through the window behind the sink, up to the starry heavens. Although the inside light caused a bit of a reflection on the glass, Cecil could still see the glowing orb of Jupiter and the dark red sultry eye of Mars.
“I wonder if there really is life out there?” he mused. “But, probably not life as we know it…Jim”

The next day dawned with cloudy skies and a light drizzle. Cecil pulled the curtains back and watched as Charlie Pringle the postman, walked up their front path and approached the front door. The bell rang and Cecil heard his Dad go to the door and after opening it, greeted the mailman.
“Hi Charlie, that’s a miserable day,” he laughed. “Got anything for me except bills?”
Charlie scratched his head and handed Cecil’s dad the mail, one letter at a time. “Sorry, Bill, plenty of the brown ones for you, but there’s a white for Mrs Wood.”
Cecil heard the front door shut and his dad go groaning along the hall towards the kitchen.
“A final reminder for the Gas. I’ll have to get that paid today… There’s a letter from your dear old dad, love.” said Mr Wood handing his wife the envelope.
All at once, downstairs Cecil heard a great whoop of joy from his Mum.
“Cecil! Cecil!” she shouted. “I’ve got a surprise for you. Come down stairs…now!”

When Cecil had washed and dressed he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen where his parents sat at the kitchen table. His Dad was engrossed in reading the local paper, while his mum was scrutinising some sheets of paper.
“What is it Mum?” he asked, hopeful that it was something nice.
Cecil’s mum looked up and her face lit up.
“I’ve had a letter from your Granddad. I was telling him that you were looking for a job and that you would consider anything…” Mum said looking menacingly at Cecil. “And Granddad has come to the rescue. He wants to make a vegetable garden outside his back door and he needs a fit young man to dig it for him!”
“Mum, Grandad lives in the back of beyond! How long will I have to stay there?” Cecil wailed.
“Cecil’s mum checked the letter again. “He says a couple of weeks should see it done, so you can catch the bus tomorrow morning and get started right away.”
Cecil looked across for some support from his dad, but his father knew which way the ‘wind was blowing’ and shaking his newspaper out vanished behind it.

As the bus approached the stop, Cecil’s mum handed her son his suitcase.
“Right,” she said. “You’ve got everything with you haven’t you, toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, clean underwear…?
“ Awww Mum!” groaned Cecil looking around him at the passengers who were waiting at the stop with him. “Don’t embarrass me!”

Cecil waved to his mum as the bus pulled away. He surreptitiously pulled one of his science fiction books out of his pocket, where he had hidden it. Mum had been quite emphatic about him taking any reading material at all. “You’ll be too tired to read that tripe, my lad. If you feel bored talk to your granddad, he’s great company.” She had said with a laugh.
Soon Cecil was back with his hero Zaak Xeroff on the lunar floor. The ambush of the vehicle had been a success and Xeroff and his men had hijacked loads of laser weapons for the rebellion.

Beckinrale was many miles from where Cecil stayed and as the hours passed, Cecil began to get hungry, so he put his book away and pulled out the sandwiches his mum had given him and began to eat them. As he ate he looked about at his fellow passengers.
There was a lady with a little baby on her knee in the next seat to him.
Behind sat two elderly people, a man and woman. Both seemed to be snoozing, for their eyes were shut.
In front of him, Cecil could see the back of a man’s head. His hair was very messy and it looked as if it could do with a wash. As if he knew, the man suddenly turned round and caught Cecil watching him. His eyes were funny; they were different colours, one blue and the other brown. The man held Cecil with his stare and the boy felt like he was being watched by some sort of reptile. All at once the man turned round and
Cecil relaxed. What a strange feeling, he thought.

By the time the bus got to Beckinrale, it was beginning to get dark. Cecil wondered if he was going to have difficulty finding his granddad’s cottage when through the bus window, he spotted the old man waiting at the bus stop for him.
“Hi Granddad!” Cecil shouted, as he stepped off the bus. “Thanks for waiting for me.”
“Cecil, I’m so glad to see you. Did you have a good journey? Your mum rang me and gave me the time of your bus.”
As the bus pulled away Cecil felt a cold shiver go down his back and in turning saw the passenger with the odd eyes watching him. He was smiling unpleasantly and seemed to be very interested in his granddad and him. The bus turned a corner and was gone leaving Cecil feeling decidedly upset.”
“Who was that on the bus?” asked his granddad. “Someone you made friends with?”
“Not exactly….” whispered Cecil, giving a shiver.

Granddad had put Cecil in his spare room. A camp bed lay on the floor alongside a large pile of blankets.
“Will this do you, son?” asked his granddad. “I’m sure you’ll be warm enough.”
“Fine granddad,” said Cecil. “I’ll just unpack my suitcase.”

As Cecil prepared for bed that night he gazed out of the window at the night sky. The stars seemed much clearer there, so far from the town lights. Cecil felt that if he had wanted to, he could have reached out and pulled them out of the sky.

Next morning Cecil woke when granddad’s cockerel crowed. It was six o’clock! Cecil hadn’t been awake at this time for a very long time, at least since he was eight and had a paper round.
“Good morning!” shouted his granddad as Cecil made his way to the bathroom for a wash. I’ve made you porridge, toast and a cup of tea. Will that do you just now?”
Cecil looked into the mirror that hung above the sink. His reflection looked back at him with an expression of utter gloom.
“It’s going to be a long two weeks…” he said to himself.

That’s where I would like to have it,” said granddad enthusiastically. “I would like potatoes, carrots, turnips and some peas. Do you think you can do that for me?”
The old man had marked the area with sticks and as Cecil looked over the expanse of wild, uncultivated ground his heart sank.
“Sure granddad, “he said with false relish. “I’m sure I can manage it.”
“Well, I’m going down to the village post office to draw some money out for your wages…No, I told your mum I would pay you a decent wage,” Granddad said when Cecil told him that payment wasn’t necessary. “I’ll be back soon, so you can make a start whenever you like.”

The tools, a spade and a garden fork, that granddad had left for Cecil, had seen better days and were coated with rust. Cecil just hoped that the heavy work wouldn’t break them.

The first time that Cecil thrust the spade into the ground, it rebounded and almost smacked him in the face. Striking more carefully the next time, the spade cut through the grass and Cecil was able to peel the sod back off the earth. After that although not easy, Cecil managed to expose quite a sizeable patch of soil and when his granddad returned he could see the old man was impressed.
“Well done, son. That is a very impressive start you’ve made. Let me get you a celebratory cup of tea.”

And so as the day progressed, more and more of the potential vegetable garden was exposed. Cecil piled up the turf to allow it to dry out and as the light began to wane, he knew that the digging of the earth was to follow the next day and that it would be back breaking. What with all the roots and fibres that had to be dug out of the soil, it would be many days before he could till the earth prior to planting.

That night as he stood by his bedroom window he surveyed the progress that he had made. Although aching all over he felt the warm feeling of achievement filling his soul as he looked at the dark earth which had lain for so long hidden, now exposed to the elements.
Suddenly something bright rose from the dug ground. It rose and then hovered steadily. Cecil tried to see what it was but the reflection of his bedroom light was interfering with his view of the object. He turned and raced across to the light switch and turned the light off, but by the time he returned to the window, it was totally dark outside again.

When Cecil tried to describe what he had seen to his granddad, it felt like he had experienced a nightmare brought on by his choice of literature.
His granddad had laughed and pulling an old newspaper out of the cupboard had pointed out a news item to the boy.
“There were strange lights reported being seen over Beckinrale last month,” the old man said. “Strange colours and things moving about at high speeds that suddenly vanished. A load of tosh, I say. It was probably seen by people who had had a drink too many down at the King’s Head!”

Next morning after breakfast, Cecil returned to his project. Picking up the spade he leant the blade edge on the surface and placing his foot on the back forced the metal into the earth. It sunk in about seven inches and hit something solid and undoubtedly from the sound it made, metal.

Not only was it metallic, it also sounded slightly hollow. Off course Cecil’s imagination began to run away with him. Could it be? The fantasy was forming in his mind but before he could get too carried away he realised what it actually was. Definitely not what he had thought –or imagined! Another couple of spade digs and he had it: a disappointingly ordinary helmet, looked like something from the war. Granddad would know about this, he thought and set off to find the old man. Sure enough Granddad knew exactly what it was.

“That’s my old tin hat from 1943” Granddad inspected it carefully. “This little dent was from an air shelter – nothing serious!” He added quickly.
“I was in such a hurry that I tripped and hit my head – lucky I had the helmet on!”
Granddad grinned. “Never expected to see this old thing again…” 

Cecil was getting bored with digging. All he had to look forward to was blisters and aching muscles and Granddad wasn't much of an encouragement. He kept saying inane things like “hard graft never hurt anybody!” and “This’ll toughen you up, lad.” To which Cecil had some choice thoughts of his own but he managed to keep them to himself. He remembered Mum’s strict instructions: “Don’t you be giving your Granddad any cheek now, you’ll find him set in his ways - just humour him and remember no lip!”

He only had to stick it out for two week, which was a consoling thought -just two weeks. That was all. How hard could it be?

In practice it was turning out much harder than he’d expected - Much, much harder! At the moment he was struggling to even make it to lunch. His stomach grumbled a protest, informing him that it had to be lunch time by now. His stomach was never wrong. But when Granddad eventually showed up he produced an old wrist watch showing that it was, in fact, bang on lunch time. Cecil looked doubtful.

“See for yourself” Granddad said. The watch face, with its antiquated tiny spear-like hands and roman numerals was virtually indecipherable to him. He was used to Digital. He’d wanted to bring his IPhone but Mum made him leave it.

“See, it’s just after noon,” said his Granddad. He handed the watch to Cecil.
“Here, you’ll need this . . .”
Cecil still looked doubtful.
“Go on then put it on!”
“Ah . . . thanks Granddad” He tried to sound grateful.


Even with his new watch he found keeping track of time difficult.
Time in the village of Beckinrale seemed to run at a different rate, a much slower one. It was as if he’d travelled abroad to a different time zone and had to reset his internal clock.

The mornings were the worst. The cockerel crowed with infernal relish every day, six am sharp! And Granddad followed suit with a bellowed “Rise ’n shine!”
This was when those aching muscles kicked in and Cecil found that he could hardly move – never mind jump out of bed!

Granddad’s recommendation of a curative cold shower wasn’t well received - was he joking! He’d said it with a twinkle in his eye, too cheerful by far for first thing in the morning. Cecil was tempted to tell the old man where to go but his Mum’s strict command held his tongue: “No lip! Humour Granddad and his old ways!” It was hard. The old git was driving him crazy!

Could he even manage to stick it out for another two days? Let alone two more weeks! He seriously doubted it. Even the dreaded Job Centre seemed preferable to this purgatory. He was used to a different life, one in the 21st century, not this miserable regression into the middle ages.

One morning, with the relentless cockle-doodle-do still ringing in his ears, Cecil lay in bed thinking “I can’t go on”. It was a recurrent thought, even though he knew he had no choice. It’s like the film Ground hog day, he thought. The same routine repeating every day. Now he was waiting for the inevitable “Rise n’ shine!” but it didn’t come. There was only silence, a heavenly silence which stretched on . . . and on . . . Had Granddad slept in? Granddad never slept in! He was an early bird. Cecil began to worry.

Eventually He had to get out of bed to check . . . He knocked lightly and listened. “Granddad . .?” There was no response. Then he heard snoring!
Feeling like he had the moral high ground he bellowed:

“Rise n’ shine!”

This was payback! There was a grunt and then Granddad shouted:

“Get back to bed you clot! It’s the Sabbath!”

The Sabbath, thought Cecil in consternation. He should know this . . . it sounded oddly like a rock band.

“The what?” was all he could think to shout back.

“Our day of rest!”

“Oh” The penny dropped. Why didn’t Granddad just say it was Sunday in the first place?

Somewhat deflated but nonetheless pleased at the idea of a ‘day of rest’, Cecil headed back to bed.

“Mind!” came a shout from Granddad’s room “we’ve church at eight, so don’t dillydally”

Oh great, thought Cecil, so much for the day of rest. He didn’t dwell on it though as he was already feeling very sleepy. But just before he drifted off he remembered the name of that band: black Sabbath . . .

Cecil awoke from a strange dream with a heavy metal soundtrack. It was all a muddle now as his dreams tended to be. But he had an image in his mind of the man from the bus, the man with the funny eyes, one blue and one brown . . . he was in the band, his messy hair even wilder than before.
And his face morphed into a demonic Ziggy stardust! There were quire boys for some reason. It was now a weird sort of gospel band and Ziggy changed to David Bowie, in his ‘the Man who fell to earth’ persona. His eyes were even more reptilian, like when he removed his contact lenses in the film. Strangely, he was wielding a gavel, banging in on a lectern, and he    a minister’s dog collar. The banging was loud.

“Come on Cecil, we can’t be late. I’m an elder of the kirk, so we have to be on time. They will not start without you today. It’s a special service -”

“Ok Granddad, give me a minute” Cecil still felt groggy from his strange dream. He wondered vaguely about the ‘special service’, what did Granddad mean?

“Don’t worry Cecil, we always do it with newbies” said his Granddad.
Cecil didn’t feel particularly reassured. As usual his imagination was running away with him, for some reason he was thinking in terms of ‘Village of the damned’.

Granddad rushed them through the morning routine at break neck speed, hoping to make up time but they were still running late when they arrived at the church.

“Come on Cecil – let’s get inside” gasped his Granddad, breathless from the brisk pace up the hill to the church entrance.
“Everyone’s already inside” he added with a wheeze.

Cecil felt an unaccountable dread as he eyed the huge double doors. It was so quiet, more like a crypt than a church, he thought.  

“Come on” urged his Granddad. The doors creaked with classic eerie Hammer house acoustics. Inside the congregation turned in silence to stare at Cecil and his Granddad. It was like that moment from ‘An American werewolf in London’ except instead of the village pub it was the village church and the effect was multiplied by a congregation of nearly a hundred souls.  All eyes were fixed on Cecil. Then there was a collective sigh, a murmuring and rustling. Shoes scuffled and scraped as movement returned.

Now all eyes turned to the figure standing at the pulpit. Cecil stared in disbelief. It was him!

“Come up to the front, we’ve kept you a seat” The minister gestured to the front pews.

Granddad turned to Cecil and spoke in a hushed voice:
“That’s the man from the bus isn’t it?”
Cecil nodded. He was still staring in disbelief. It was like his dream.

“Welcome, welcome – the service is about to begin!”

Cecil had the most terrible thought, something that shook up all his denials. What if all he had been imagining turned out to be true . . . and in that case he wondered how much Granddad really knew, and more ominously, how much did he himself really know Granddad?

“We are gathered, brethren,” intoned the minister in a booming voice. “To prepare for the days ahead. With the waning of the Moon, we will begin.”
Cecil listened in silence. What was going on? What was going to begin?
All he wanted was to get out of this spooky church with its spooky people and get off home.
“Grandad…” Cecil began to say, when his granddad turned to him and glared.
“Sshhh!” he hissed. “Listen to the meister!”
“What is a ‘meister’?” whispered Cecil.
“Our leader, the minister before you.” Grandad said and turned away.

Cecil listened in growing horror as the ‘meister’ spoke to the congregation.
“You have done well since our arrival many lunar months ago. The human forms we occupy have provided us with valuable information as to the ways of our enemy. They will know nothing of their approaching fate until the very end!”

Later that night after Cecil and his granddad had arrived home; they had tea as if nothing had happened. Cecil was amazed, for his granddad had kept tight hold of him as they made their way home and Cecil expected to be locked up to prevent him escaping. Instead the old man laid the table and put out bread, butter, jam and cakes as if it was an ordinary evening.
“Grandad, what is happening? What was that minister talking about?” Cecil asked. He felt really worried and knew something was wrong.
“Don’t you fret boy,” replied Grandad. “It’ll be alright in the morning.”

Later that evening Grandad fell asleep in his chair and Cecil decided to try and escape. Whatever transformation was going to take place to him would occur over night. Cecil shivered imagining being ‘taken over’ by some unknown thing. What were they? Where had they come from?
Just as he rose from his chair his Grandad’s eyes flickered open.
“Time you were in bed, my lad,” said the old man. “You’ve got a vegetable patch to plant out tomorrow.”
Grandad stood up and went over to switch out one of the electric lamps that had been lit when it got dark. As he touched the switch he received an electric shock and fell onto the floor.
“I told you that lamp switch was faulty, Grandad. Are you alright…” Cecil began to say, but stopped when he saw what was happening to his grandfather.
A cloud of gas was rising out of his prone body and as Cecil watched it gathered into a cloud in the centre of the room. Deep in the clouds interior, Cecil could see electrical flashes and heard a buzzing.
“What, the …” shouted Cecil jumping out of the way as the gas cloud moved towards him.
From within the cloud a voice shrieked.
“I have no form. I am loose from my host!”
“What are you?” screamed Cecil. He felt the hair on his head rise in terror.
“I am one of the Skeeran,” the voice moaned. “But I have lost my form.”
“Where are you from?”  the boy demanded.
“Our race was from an area that you know as the Hydraces Cluster,” the voice replied. “We are a warring faction and take what we need.”
“But why come to Earth? What do you intend to do with us?”
“Occupation, subjugation and annihilation,” came the icy reply.

Suddenly Cecil’s granddad gave a loud moan and sat up. As he rose so the cloud of gas fell towards him and began to seep into his body. Soon it was gone and Cecil helped the old man to his feet.
“I have got to mend that light,” said Grandad. “Now off to bed young man.”

As Cecil lay in bed that night thoughts flew through his mind.
These were real aliens! They intended to destroy the Earth! He, Cecil Wood, had got to stop them. But how? What would Zaak Xeroff do? The electric shock his granddad had received seemed to dislodge the entity, but how could he stop it returning to its host.

Cecil waited till he heard his granddad make his way to his bed. Soon the noise of snoring permeated the house and Cecil knew he was safe to move.
Pushing his bedroom window open, Cecil slipped out into the night and made his way back to the church. That was the centre for the aliens, so he decided to do some reconnaissance.

The moon gleamed down on Cecil as he made his way quietly through the church’s graveyard. Although the atmosphere was spooky, Cecil was far more scared of what lurked in the church.
Slowly he raised his head to look in at one of the church windows. A strange bluish, green glow was visible within the building. Cecil could hear murmuring and the odd loud voice. The congregation were all there and being spoken to by the minister or meister, as his granddad had called him.
“We must leave and release the agent,” screeched a voice from within the church.
“No!” another voice interjected. “It is too soon!”
Cecil moved to another window and found that he could see what was going on much more clearly. The meister was in front of about thirty people. Cecil could see men, women and even some children. They must all carry the aliens within them, he thought. How was he to rid them of this burden?

About an hour later the meeting broke up and the people streamed out of the church, heading towards their homes. The meister stood at the door and watched them as they left. He seemed a little dazed looking, thought Cecil as he peeked from behind a gravestone. He had the fixed gaze of someone in a trance. Then Cecil heard something that froze his blood meister began speaking, but not in English, but some garbled, guttural noise that resembled the noise of a squeaky door. It got louder and louder and Cecil had to cover his ears as the noise became painful. All at once it stopped, but the meister’s mouth continued to move. Cecil then realised that the sound had become so high pitched that it was no longer audible to human ears!
All at once a beam of light shone down upon the meister. Its whitish blue colour bathed the man in its brilliance and Cecil watched in horror as the meister began to disappear. Soon there was only a transparent image of the man in the beam, then he was gone and the beam with him.
Cecil felt sweat running down his brow. Where had he gone?

After waiting for a further hour Cecil decided it was safe to go into the church and investigate. As he quietly opened the door and entered he held his breath. Everything was so silent…eerily so!
He made his way up the aisle towards the altar and as he did he kept an eye open for any sort of movement, but saw no one.

He opened a door to the vestry and made his way inside. The minister’s desk had some documents on it, as well as a couple of pens. Someone had been signing something, thought Cecil as he picked up one of the pieces of paper. The writing looked foreign and Cecil could not make head nor tail of it. What was going on?

Remembering his granddad’s accident with the lamp, Cecil made his way to the church’s main fuse box and checked the wiring. Lying about the floor were pieces of clipped wire where an electrician had dropped them while carrying out routine maintenance.
Cecil checked in one of the cupboards below the fuse box and found a spool of heavy duty wire. Pulling it out he laid it on the floor and began to unwind it. Slowly he pulled more and more off until he had enough to reach the inside of the church. He knew that what he was about to do was wrong, but he had to do something.
Remembering what one of his pals had done when he wanted to connect wires, Cecil pared of the covering plastic off exposing the metal wire. Selecting a terminal on the fuse box that was lacking a fuse he screwed the red and black wire to the terminals, making them fast.
When he had done this he found fuse wire holder and using a piece of the cut wire from the floor, he wrapped it around the pins. Now, the fuse would carry a much higher current than it had been designed for.
Carefully pushing the wire into the shadows, Cecil tried to disguise its presence. Taking the other end of the wire and exposed the metal of the wires. Then he slid the wire down to the floor behind one of the pews.
After he had made sure that his handiwork was not visible, Cecil crept out of the church and made his way home.

“Wakey, wakey!” came a loud voice in Cecil’s ear. He felt that he had only been asleep for a couple of minutes, but here was his granddad waking him up for another day of gardening.
“Rise and shine, young man,” said Granddad. “We have to plant some seeds today.”
As Cecil washed and dressed he thought about the previous night. It seemed like a dream to him, but he knew it wasn’t. The aliens were in control of the people of this parish and their global plan was world domination.
As Cecil ate his breakfast he wondered if his granddad knew that he harboured an alien within his body. It seemed ludicrous, but Cecil knew that it was true.

At the end of the day the vegetable plot was planted out, the rows neatly marked and watered. Granddad stood and admired the sight and complimented his grandson.
“Yes, you’ve done an excellent job, Cecil. I am sure the garden will bear fruit after a few weeks.”
Cecil looked up at the old man’s face and wondered if he should try and warn him, but what could he do while the alien was in control?

Cecil was awoken from sleep by a heavy thumping coming from the front door. It was the middle of the night and was pitch black. Once again the thumping came and Cecil heard his granddad rushing down the hall.
“Ok, ok. I’m coming!” he shouted as he grasped the bolts on the front door and pulled them across. The door swung open noisily.
Cecil lay listening, but apart from the wind gusting around the window, he could hear nothing.
Then, Cecil heard the noise that the meister had made the previous night outside the church. The shrieking rose and fell and as before entered the inaudible range. Cecil’s bedroom door was suddenly thrown open and a figure raced in and restrained the boy.
“Let me go you bugger!” screamed Cecil as he was dragged out of bed and onto the floor.
 Then he was shoved out the bedroom door into the hall and then out of the front door into the night! Outside stood the meister, viewing him with his different coloured eyes. In his hand he held a torch and shone it into Cecil’s face.
“It is the night of your assimilation into the group,” said the meister triumphantly.
“And what if I don’t want to be assimilated?” asked Cecil angrily.
“Oh, I think that you will enjoy our company,” the meister retorted with a laugh and turning to a man who had appeared out of the dark, said, “Take him to the Church and we will carry out the transformation.”

Cecil was manhandled through the graveyard and into the church. A chair had been set next to the altar and the boy was seated on it and secured by ropes. People began arriving in small groups until the church was quite full.
“We are met tonight to allow one of our brothers to have the freedom of movement and to prepare for the domination of this planet,” said the meister talking to the congregation.
A man came up to the altar bearing a large bottle like receptacle within which swirled a fog like substance.
“Behold our brother, newly awakened!” the meister shrieked holding the vessel aloft.

Cecil had been working on his bonds. The rope that he was tied up with was very old and worn and by flexing his muscles he felt the rope give a little. Turning to watch the meister’s antics, Cecil knew that his ‘assimilation’ was about to happen. Giving another fierce tug on the rope, Cecil broke free and as escaped he ran against the meister causing him to drop the bottle like receptacle which plummeted to the ground and smashed! A gas rose from the broken shards and from it issued a shrieking noise like a pig being killed.
“Quickly, quickly!” screamed the meister. “Our brother is unable to survive long without a host. Grab the boy!”
But, Cecil ran as fast as he could towards the vestry and upon gaining entry swung the heavy door shut and locked it. A furious knocking ensued on the outside of the door.
“Open this door now!” came the order. “If you don’t open it right away, we will break it down!”
Cecil looked about him for a weapon, but all he saw was an old rusty key for turning the water of the sprinkler system on, that he assumed had been fitted in case of a fire. Of course, he suddenly thought, water that was what he needed!
Carefully, in case it broke, Cecil turned the water cock to open with the old key and when he was sure he could hear the water running through the pipes, he ran to the fuse box and forced the doctored fuse into its holder. Then rushed to the door and threw back the bolts, opened the door and plunged through the people who were trying to get in.
He ran this way and that, avoiding grasping hands and legs stuck out to trip him. He climbed atop the altar and as he did picked up a lit candle and stretching up held it below a water sprinkler that projected from the roof.
“Stop him!” the meister shouted. “Quick grab him before he lets the water loose!”
But it was too late, for with a gurgle and a hiss, all the sprinklers began to spray water all about. It was like a monsoon and people ran about covering their heads to protect themselves from the deluge.
Then, all of a sudden there was a scream, followed by another and another as people began dancing puppet like. Their limbs jerked and bodies shook as the electricity coursed through them. It had been released into the water and was reaching everyone, everyone that was except for Cecil. He was standing on the altar, a safe island in a sea of pandemonium and craziness.

As it had started so it finished with a sigh. The water stopped gushing and sluiced away. The people fell to the ground and lay still and gas began escaping from their bodies and collecting into a huge cloud that hung beneath the church roof. Cecil looked up at it as it swirled and eddied.
“You are defeated!” shouted Cecil to the gathering vapour. “Go back to wherever you came from and don’t bother us again!”
From deep in the cloud came a groaning and a voice could be heard pleading.
“Please, please. We are finished. Let us share your planet with you.”
“No! You are not welcome here,” shouted Cecil. “Don’t you understand?”
“No,” came the voice again. “We understand that and we will go, but allow us to feel what it is to be human again…just for a few of your Earth minutes.”
Cecil knew that once within the people’s bodies, the Skeeran would reassert their domination and everything would be back to square one!
Cecil jumped down from the altar and ran over to the back door of the church throwing it open. The wind rushed into the building and began to pluck greedily at the cloud of Skeeran.
Next of all Cecil crossed to the front door and also threw it open. Now the church acted as a wind tunnel and sucked at the air within the church.
Then all of a sudden a large gust of wind caught the cloud and rushed it to and through the front door of the church into the night sky and away. Cecil watched as the stars were temporarily occulted, then the sky became clear again and the stars twinkled as clear as ever.
People were rising groggily to their feet as Cecil re entered the church. The body of the meister was nowhere to be seen, but no one except for Cecil noticed his absence. Everyone felt as if they had awoken from a dream and after families gathered together, they all made their way home.
After disconnecting the wire from the fuse board, Cecil checked that apart from wet floors, the church had escaped any real damage. He closed both the front and back doors and made his weary way home.

Next day, grandad walked down to the bus stop with Cecil.
“Well, lad,” said the old man.” Sorry it was all work and no play.”
“That’s ok Grandad. I was glad I could help you out,” replied Cecil with a smile.
As the bus pulled away and at last, granddad faded from view. Cecil pulled out his Zaak Xeroff comic and settled down to read it. As he read a piece of ‘derring do’ by his hero, he felt a feeling of warmth course through his body.
“Yes, Zaak, didn’t we do well?”




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