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?”
………………………………………………………+………………………………………………..
