jannieswrite: November 2013

By the time Jimmy the jam found the house it was getting dark. Lights were flickering on up and down the street and as he‘d hoped his patience was rewarded; the house remained in darkness. He did a further quick recce; there were no cars in the driveway and the curtains were half drawn and still. To be sure, he threw gravel at the upper windows; the last thing he wanted was to disturb some snoozing night-shift worker. He waited; no lights came on, the curtains remained still, no twitching.

The door was open; unlocked - eureka! It was practically an invitation. Old George had been right; there were rich pickings in an area like this; though not quite posh, it had pretensions of wealth. Thank god for the careless middle-classes.

With barely a backward glance, Jimmy pushed the door open and entered. Once inside he stood stock still while his senses adjusted. His ears and eyes strained: he was tuning in on background noises; the muffled sounds of street traffic, a car door, and somewhere kids shouting . . . but nothing from the house itself. So far so good.

Gradually he discerned objects in the dim interior. It was like dozens of other hallways he’d seen: a wooden coat stand lurched in the corner, with a well-worn jacket dangling from a hanger. The jacket caught his attention; it looked oddly familiar. He must have seen a similar jacket before . . . but he couldn’t think where. There were some shoes and boots on a rack, and besides that, a little wooden table with a lamp on it – and also what looked like a large leather wallet; with notes sticking out of it!

Jimmy reacted like Pavlov’s dogs; stimulus, response. With no conscious awareness of movement or thought, Jimmy had the wallet in his hands. He was probably salivating too as he saw a wad of notes. He started to count the money but his concentration was disturbed by a dull repetitious sound somewhere in the background . . . an alarm! . . . Somewhere . . . in the house!

Jimmy kept cool; alarms were par for the course, as old George used to say. Stay calm and make your exit. Don’t panic! It could be hours before anyone responded to the alarm – or it could be minutes!

Jimmy turned on his heels, clutching the leather wallet. It was then that he noticed the button switch on the table. Who has a switch on a table? The wallet must have been resting on it! It must have pressed the switch down until Jimmy picked it up – releasing the switch!

Now Jimmy panicked. This was not par for the course. This was bad, very bad, thought Jimmy as he rushed to the door and grabbed the metal handle.

A massive electric jolt surged through Jimmy. He convulsed, unable to release his hand and then he passed out.

When Jimmy came back to consciousness he lay perfectly still, eyes closed, and listened. The silence was unnerving. The sounds of the street were gone. Was the room sound proof? Maybe he’d lost his hearing? No, there was something . . . very faint, a sighing sound?

“It’s no use Jimmy, I know you are awake…” The voice was oddly familiar.

“Don’t you remember me?” Jimmy opened his eyes.

“You!” recognition chilled his rapidly beating heart. “But you are dead!”

“Yes, you would like to think that wouldn’t you?” said the tall man looking down at Jimmy. “It would suit your purposes.”

Slowly Jimmy got up. He felt alright, considering that he had been electrocuted. The hand that he had touched the handle with, felt a little numb, but all in all he was OK.

“Bernie Sloane,” said Jimmy looking at the man. “Archie and I buried you down by the Carne River. You had taken a bullet in the head!”

Sloane smoothed his long, greasy hair back from his forehead and Jimmy could see the scar as clear as day.

“Still inside my head,” he grunted. “If the bastard had aimed an inch lower I would still be lying by the river!”

“But how did you get out of the ground?” Jimmy grunted.

Sloane held his hands up displaying broken and missing fingernails. “Had to dig myself fricking out, didn’t I?”

Jimmy collapsed in an armchair and covered his eyes with his hands. “What do you want with me? Is this you come for your revenge? Archie is across in Canada now and unless you have infinite time to track him, you will have to just make do with me.”

“No,” said Sloane, sitting down opposite Jimmy. “I want you to help me with two things and then if you agree, I’ll get out of your hair forever.”

Jimmy looked about the room, his gaze falling on the handle of the door that had been electrified. “Couldn’t you have just picked up the phone instead of getting my attention by electrifying me?”

Sloane laughed evilly. “Old George told me that you had your eye on these properties and I realised that if I set up this trap, it would eventually guarantee me your undivided attention.”

“Old George told you? The old bastard! Was he pissed??” asked Jimmy.

“No,” Sloane hissed. “I just broke a couple of his fingers and he sang like a bird. I’ve been following your progress for a long time Jimmy, you and Archie’s.”

“But, as I said, Archie’s out of your reach now Bernie, he’s in Canada,” wailed Jimmy.

“Well actually, he is below Pier 10 in Southampton harbour. A couple of breeze blocks tied round his neck will keep him there until the crabs have had their fill of him.” Sloane said quietly, almost reverently.

Bernie brought two cups of steaming coffee through to the table between his and Jimmy’s chair. “Here mate, get your lips round this. It’ll make you feel much better.”

Jimmy the jam gazed dismally into the cloudy contents of his cup. “I should have recognised your old jacket hanging in the hall. Shouldn’t I have? This is your house then?”

“Yep,” said Bernie. “I rented it furnished when I knew that you were to be in the neighbourhood. The electrical traps were all my work though. Impressed you, did they?”

“Electrifying!” growled Jimmy sarcastically. “OK, what is it you want from me?”

Sloane rose and went through to the kitchen again. When he returned he was carrying a large map. He moved the now empty coffee cups and spread it out on the table. It was a blueprint of a factory looking place. There was writing at the bottom, but Jimmy could see that it was foreign.

“First of all, I want to know which of you buggers decided to shoot me and cheat me out of the haul from the National bank raid?” said Sloane menacingly.

“It was Archie, I swear Bernie,” pleaded Jimmy. “He reckoned you would take the biggest cut yourself!”

“And you went along with him, didn’t you?” Sloane spat.

“I was scared of Archie. He said that if I ratted to you he would kill us both!”

“You bloody wimp! I should kill you myself!”

“Aw Bernie, I can be useful to you. I promise,” Jimmy pleaded.

Sloane gave a big yawn and stretched himself.

“That brings us conveniently to my second request. Will you join me in a once only, last ever job that will leave us both richer than kings? I am asking politely,” growled Sloane. “But, you will help me or else you can join Archie counting fish!”

As the evening wore on Jimmy knew that whatever Sloane proposed he would have to go along with. If it was true that he had killed Archie, then he would lose no sleep doing the same to him. The plan would seem to hinge on the factory looking place laid out on the blueprint spread on the table.

“Right here is where the piece of machinery sits,” Sloane said pointing down at a rectangular unit on the plan. “On the top is the thing we have to get. It should be like taking candy from a baby. The only problem may be with any of the scientist’s that may still be there, but I can sort them out.”

Jimmy looked at Sloane and recognised the look in his eyes.

“You’re not going to kill anyone are you? I ain’t murdering people Bernie. I’ll steal for you but that’s where it ends!”

“Listen, you snivelling piece of shit,” said Sloane menacingly. “You owe me, you and Archie and as Archie ain’t here anymore, you can honour his ‘debt’”

The night for the job was decided as being the following Friday. Most of the personnel would have gone home for the weekend and apart from the security and maybe an odd ‘egghead’, the place would be empty. Sloane told Jimmy that he would pick him up in his car at about 10pm and they would take a couple hours to observe the place before making their entry.

Friday night was wet and as Jimmy waited below a lamppost the wind plucked at his coat. He shivered and drew on his cigarette, stamping his feet to heat them he moved about the lit area like a caged animal. Where was Sloane? He asked himself. Maybe he had been picked up by the police and was at that moment languishing in a cell. But Jimmy’s hopes were confounded when a beat up Ford came up the road and stopped right by him.

“Fricking get in you stupid bampot!” hissed Sloane as Jimmy climbed into the smoky, sweaty smelling interior. “Could you not have stood in the shadows?”

“Oh, and a good evening to you too,” said Jimmy sarcastically.

The rain intensified as they drove through the dark streets. No one seemed to be about and Jimmy wished that he was in his nice warm bed.

“Here it is,” hissed Sloane, looking up at a large sign that was partially lit. “Now keep your eyes peeled for the security bods. We have to work out their timing for their checks.”

Jimmy didn’t say anything. He was gazing at the sign and reading what was written on it.

STARLEY ATOMIC RESEARCH ESTABLISHMENT

HOME OF BRITAIN’S CYCLOTRON

No admittance to unauthorised personnel.

“Sloane,” wailed Jimmy. “What’s a cyclotron? Why is it in an atomic research place?”

“Listen, and listen well. Some weeks ago I was approached by some foreign nationals.

They offered me a lot of money to obtain something for them and that is what we are going to do.” Sloane said, smacking Jimmy on the side of the head.

“But what do they want this something for? Were they terrorists? Is that what you’re not telling me?” Jimmy squeaked.

“I don’t give a flying frick what you believe or don’t believe. This job is getting done tonight or else you won’t see tomorrow’s sunrise!” Sloane rasped. Then he leant over, opened the passenger’s door and shoved Jimmy out into the driving wind and rain. “Now go and observe, Jimmy, the night is passing quick!”

As the nearby church clock rang for midnight, Sloane and Jimmy were crouched down by the barbed wire fence. Using a bolt cutter Bernie cut through the wire and sliding through the gap, both men slunk across towards a large building that sat at the back of the complex.

“Are you sure about the security?” hissed Sloane to Jimmy.

“Yes Bernie, they aint due for another hour.” Jimmy groaned miserably, the rain dripping down his neck.

The bolt cutters came in handy for the door into the building which had been firmly locked. A large padlocked chain hung down from the hasp, but Bernie’s cutter soon removed it. Next he pulled out a lock picking set and after a frustrating wait the door finally opened and admitted the thieves.

“Wow,” said |Jimmy shining his torch up at the massive metal tube that filled the interior of the building. “What is it supposed to do?”

Sloane put a hand over Jimmy’s mouth and hissed. “Shut up! Do you want to get us caught?”

Following Sloane’s directions Jimmy climbed up on a large rectangular box that sat on the tube. Everything was gigantic. Jimmy felt like he was in the land of the giants.

“Over there, you will find a lid,” whispered Sloane. “Just open it up and take out what’s inside.”

Lifting the lid Jimmy’s torch beam lit up a sign which was stuck to the top. It read:

WARNING: RADIOACTIVE ISOTOPE. HANDLE WITH EXTREME CARE.

“Here Bernie, this ‘ere thing is dangerous. I aint risking my life for this!” Jimmy began to climb back down.

The gun appeared in Sloane’s hand from nowhere. It sported an ugly silencer on the barrel.

“OK Jimmy boy, now get back up there and hand it down to me. This gun’s silent so no one is liable to hear me kill you!”

Jimmy climbed back up and moved towards the housing for the atomic particle.

“OK Sloane, but I deserve an explanation. What’s it to be used for this ‘ere isotope thing? What research are they doing anyway?”

“You deserve nothing Jimmy,” hissed Sloane. “But I will tell you that these scientists have been monkeying around with things that could wipe us all out. Trying to create something that happened at the beginning of time or something. Creation, Big Bang or some such nonsense. Just a waste of people’s money, that’s what I think!”

Slowly Jimmy slipped the radioactive element out from its setting and lifted it slowly.

“But what’s your foreign nationals wanting with this?”

“Oh, probably going to make a bomb or something,” said Sloane carelessly.

“A bomb?” screamed Jimmy getting to his feet. “A bomb to kill people?”

Two things happened simultaneously, precipitating a third thing that was truly momentous.

Jimmy slipped; releasing the isotope which fell back into its housing, but in the opposite configuration to which it had been situated. Jimmy’s fall temporarily ended by him landing on the lid of the atomic housing shutting it with a bang that resounded around the Cyclotron area. Jimmy slid off the metal tube and landed in a heap on the floor.

For several seconds Sloane looked about him as fans began to start up and electrical lights illuminated. The massive metal tube began to vibrate and screech. It was a banshee like cry and intimated power with a capital P. Jimmy lifted his blood covered head and stretching his hand out appealed to Sloane to help him. Sloane just gazed about him. His mouth hung open and he drooled like a baby.

With an almighty whoosh, the particles raced off down the tube, released from their slumber, in the wrong direction, by Jimmy’s unfortunate accident. Round and round they sped their speed ever approaching the speed of light and then when optimum velocity had been reached, they smashed into each other, splintering and releasing colossal waves of energy.

Five billion Earth years later when every planet, star, planetoid, comet, asteroid, etc in the Universe had been gathered together in a large pulsating ball of matter, the chemical components began to interact and over time heat was generated. The pressure inside the ball became oppressive and finally with a massive explosion all the material was thrown out to become the expanding Universe again. Unfortunately for everyone concerned, everything that had happened, happened again as it would happen over and over again for all time. This was the way of the Universe. Expansion, contraction and repetition.

The Earth cooled, Ages passed, Mammal development took place, the dinosaurs died off, the Phoenicians set sail, the Vikings discovered America, the Romans invaded Britain, the Roman Empire collapsed, the Battle of Hastings, the First World War, the Second World War, the destruction of America’s Twin Towers, Jimmy found the house, got electrocuted, met Sloane, the two of them broke into the Atomic Research Establishment, Jimmy dropped the radioactive isotope and off went the sequence again. Total collapse, internal expansion, explosion outwards. The Universe reformed. An infinite reoccurring loop,

until………………..

Somewhere in the gigantic order (or disorder) of things a kernel of order existed and this cosmic pantomime had to be brought to a halt. It was beginning to resemble, after several aeons, the actions of a yoyo.

Young Billy decided to pinch his Dad’s car to go and meet his pals at the pub. It was a wet, windy night and well, he would pass his driving test next week when he sat it. He knew he was an excellent driver, the instructor, Mr Findlayson, had told him so, several times.

As Billy drove through the dark streets he gazed at all the parked cars. As soon as he got his licence he would buy one of these, something fast and sleek. Something to pick up the ladies in.

The car came out of a side street, travelling far to fast and inexperienced Billy did not brake fast enough to avoid ploughing into the side of it. Billy’s father’s car was a powerful BMW and it smashed into the other car like a hot knife through butter.

The collision stopped the ‘beamer’ in its tracks but the other car tumbled down the street bursting in flame and exploding before coming to rest against an old brick wall. The scene became almost surrealistic with the bright flames, the two men screaming as they died inside the car and shrieking wind which fanned the flames.

As Jimmy the jam and Bernie Sloane died, the artificial oscillating of the universe ceased for a longer period and order was, temporarily, restored.

To and Fro

Dedicated to the progenitor, Dr Strange.

Sunday, 17 November 2013

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Wednesday, 13 November 2013

To and Fro

Tuesday, 5 November 2013