by Clive Harold
Pauline, feeling better in herself, began to worry about the after-effects on the children. She didn't want them to have nightmares - least of all Layann, after all her dreaming about phantom figures prowling the house at night. She suggested quietly to Billy that they should still be allowed to watch the rest of The Six Million Dollar Man and perhaps the programme that followed it. It would help take their minds off what had happened.
Billy leaned over to her, shaking his head slowly, and whispered in her ear: 'Not possible, love. Just before you and the kids arrived with that light thing over the car, this television suddenly overloaded and burned out all its wiring, just like the others...
THREE
Spring. A typical April morning. Pauline looked out from the kitchen window across the rolling green fields bathed in mid-morning sunshine, out over the cliff edge to the twinkling sea beyond. Beautiful. Her favourite view of her favourite season. Winter - with all the rigours it brought with it - was truly over and one of the nicest farming seasons was with them. Her gaze wandered skywards as it now always tended to, ever since she had first seen the light. It had been three weeks since she and the kids had been chased by the ball of light, but time hadn't dimmed the memory. It was not through lack of trying, either. Nobody had, in fact, mentioned the incident since then, not since Billy had been unhappy with the local newspaper story that had come out about it. He still couldn't bring himself to believe in such 'comic-book things' as UFOs - as she herself could barely bring herself to - and they had both feared not only ridicule within the Community, but that the children would get even more frightened by further reminders of what had happened. He just didn't want to talk about the incident anymore and the family respected his wishes.
But it hadn't helped. The family did remember, all too well, and it rested uneasily on their minds. With good reason. Even if they had been able to forget, there had been an increasing number of other inexplicable happenings during the intervening weeks, bringing the memory sharply back into focus and quietly unnerving everybody. Something was definitely wrong with the house and the family. Billy, normally so rumbustious and cheerful, was often irritated and impatient; Clinton, normally so withdrawn/ introverted and so much of a loner, was even more so; Joann and Layan, normally as playful and mischievous as any two schoolgirls of their age, were more subdued. And herself? She pondered the thought. Though single-minded, she had to go along with Billy in his scepticism about such things as UFOs, flying saucers, space craft, or call them what you will. They were ordinary farming folk with the down to-earth basic values of farming folk. What did they know of such things - or even care about them?
But on the other hand, what the hell had started happening to them and their lives? Normally everything was as predictable as the seasons - the way they liked it - but now it had become so complicated. The light in the sky, the light chasing the car; Layann's phantom figure in the house; Clinton's strange humming noise outside the bathroom window; all those fuses that had blown and the light bulbs that had exploded; the three cars and three television sets that had suddenly burned out all their wiring. It had all happened within three months – ever since she first saw the light in the sky that night - and they could find no explanation for any of it. Why shouldn't she - or the rest of the family feel a bit frightened? They had problems, but could solve none of them and could seemingly find nobody who could.
No local car mechanic could explain what had been happening to their cars - how all the wiring except the parts made out of copper could suddenly burn itself to a cinder (=ashes)- and, similarly, no local TV engineer had been able to explain why the same thing was happening to their televisions. Though it wouldn't explain what happened to the cars, but just in case it was something to do with faulty wiring in the house she'd even taken the trouble to get an electrician in to check the whole place over.
When he'd come, she'd told him about everything that had been happening and how the whole family were now also suffering electric shocks when they touched the taps and how worried Billy was about the soaring electricity bills. The engineer had agreed to check every appliance in the house and all the wiring. Everything, he said at the time, was in perfect working order. The wiring? It looked fine. Then he'd checked the meters to see where the high consumption was coming from.
‘Totally impossible. Absolutely impossible. It's the most incredible thing I've ever seen. Inexplicable.' He'd turned off the electricity at the mains supply, yet the meters were still going round. 'An awful lot of voltage is being drained from this house,' he had said, looking totally bewildered, 'but where it's going to, and how it's going, I couldn't tell you...’
Billy hadn't believed it at the time. He'd insisted on having the whole place rewired, especially because the electrician had speculated that they were living in a force field and had said that the whole house was so alive with electricity he was amazed someone hadn't been electrocuted. It hadn't done any good, though. All the problems had remained.
She sighed to herself. What was going to happen next? She shook herself out of her day-dream. Time to get back to matters of daily routine. There was everybody's lunch to get ready. Billy would be in shortly from fencing in the lower field, Clinton would be coming over from next door's farm and Keiron and the twins would be in from school.
She busied herself with the cooking and had the food on the table just as everyone arrived. Billy, normally so hungry he sat down immediately and tucked straight in, came straight over to her, took her arm and led her gently to one side.
'Come into the front room, love,' he whispered, 'I've got something really odd to tell you’ Leaving his food on the table and the rest of the kids to eat their lunches, he guided her to the next room and sat her down.
'Just been talking to your brother, Terry, haven't I? Told me the queerest story. Seems he had to tell someone, it was driving him potty (=crazy) keeping it to himself and I'm not surprised. Seems your l2year-old nephew, young Mark, frightened the wits out of the family about ten days ago with some tale of having met a spaceman in a field near here. Came home one night sobbing and trembling and nearly hysterical he did; reckons he was in that field behind their house - about a hundred yards from the house –when this huge great figure in a silver suit appeared from a glowing, red, saucer-shaped object and started walking towards him. Young Mark apparently walked back to the edge of the field - near the road
- and the figure kept coming towards him. Under the street light he saw quite clearly what he looked like. He reckons he was very tall, had a square, helmeted head with a black visor, an aerial sticking up from one shoulder and was wearing a silver suit and black heelless boots. Well, you can imagine how I laughed when Terry told me, but Terry's not so sure. As he says himself, young Mark's a very responsible lad, not given to teffing tales and he was apparently scared half out of his mind when he got home. Not only that, but Terry reckons he went back to where Mark said he was followed by this figure and found a giant footprint in some slurry. Isn't that the damnedest thing you ever heard? Anyway, listen love, don't tell the kids, all right? They'll probably get to hear about it anyway, but we don't want to frighten them, even if it is a load of bloody nonsense, which I'm sure it is...
Billy stood up, chuckling and shaking his head incredulously, and started back to the kitchen. She knew Mark, her nephew, very well. Never was a child more honest or less likely to make up such a pre-posterous story. And even if he had done, why was he frightened to the point of hysteria? And where did that giant footprint come from? She sighed deeply, shook her head, got up and went back into the kitchen to join Billy and the family. Neither mentioned what they had heard. She, in a way, would have liked to; particularly she would have liked to talk to Mark. But she wouldn't, not with Billy already thinking the whole affair was a load of non-sense. She shrugged. He was probably right.
After lunch she said goodbye to Billy and the kids as they went about their separate ways, and set about tidying and getting ready for dinner that evening. Sh
e looked forward to Friday nights as that was when she and Billy stayed up to watch the midnight movie on television, a luxury they could afford on that particular night, as Billy's half-day was on the Saturday. He'd be late home that night, as it happened. Another - the fourth in three months - had inexplicably burned all its wiring to a cinder and he planned to go down the road to a neighbouring farm to try and borrow a car until they could buy a new one. She shuddered at the memory of what had happened to that last car. This time the wiring had burned out when Billy started it and the car had burst into flames in the forecourt of a nearby garage. They had put it out just in time. Somebody could have been killed. She dismissed the thought from her mind.
Billy would something Connors. It should be a good evening.
*
Pauline looked at her watch as she heard the front door opening. Ten o'clock. Just as he'd promised. She'd never known anyone in her life as punctual as Billy. Dinner was already on the table, she'd got the fire roaring in the grate and the television was tuned in to the right channel for the start of the film at ten thirty-five. After dinner she'd leave the washing up in the sink and settle straight down with Billy in front of the fire.
be hungry when he got in. She'd cook him
special. The film was Chukka, starring Chuck 'Aah, that's the life,' said Billy, groaning with pleasure as he discarded his Wellingtons, stretching out in his favourite armchair by the window and warming his feet by the fire. 'A Western, is it? That's grand. Just the job...'
Pauline smiled to herself as she stretched out on the sofa opposite him and wondered if he'd last out to the end of the film, or sink into a deep sleep as he so often did. One hour later he was snoring loud enough to raise the roof. Pity, it was a grand film' just the sort he loved; plenty of action. Maybe she should wake him? Get them both some tea? No, let him sleep on. She smiled to herself again as she watched him sleep, slumped to one side, mouth open, woollen hat still perched on the back of his head as it always was. A picture of contentment.
If only Blackie was as contented. She'd never known him to be so restless. Normally he'd lie in typical labrador-fashion at his master's feet in front of the fire. But not tonight. For the last hour he'd been padding around the room furiously, weaving in and out of the furniture, sniffing the ground, ears pricked up, tail between his legs. She'd put him out if he didn't settle down soon.
And now... it looked like visitors. Car headlamps coming down the drive to judge from the light reflection on the window. Who on earth would be visiting at this time of night? They hadn't invited anyone. A pity, it was so peaceful, too - apart from Blackie's confounded behaviour. Company was the last thing they wanted. But wait - there was no noise on the gravel and the flickering light against the window pane hadn't passed by, but was still there. Strangest thing. Oh well, no matter...
She snuggled back into the sofa and tried to blot out the sound of Billy's snoring so that she could concentrate on the film. That constant flickering at the window didn't help. Like a glistening chandelier it was, and quite pretty really, but it really distracted from the film. An hour it had been there already. She'd better look and see what it was. But no, that would mean disturbing Billy - it was nearly one o'clock in the morning in any case and the film was nearly over. It could wait.
'What's the matter, love?'
She'd been so busy looking at the flickering light at the window, she hadn't noticed Billy wake up. 'Nothing, love,' she assured him. 'Somebody's car isn’t?' he said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, 'damn headlights at the window must have woke me up...
She was about to tell him that it couldn’t be, when he turned and looked over his shoulder to check for himself. Next thing he was on his feet, arms crossed over his face as if to ward off an assailant, backing away, shouting as he stumbled towards her: 'JESUS CHRIST, what's that? What IS that…?’
The words rang in her ears, shouted so loud, so choked with fright. Her senses reeled in surprise as he pulled her to her feet and clung protectively to her. What was happening? She strained to look over his shoulder and see.
Then she saw it clearly, and as the fear clutched at her stomach and made her weak, she began to scream. There, framed clearly in the window, the towering figure of a man - or figure that looked like a man. But, dear'
God, so much bigger. Silver and glowing. But where was the head? She could only see the bottom of it.
Impossible. The window was seven feet high, it must be. But she could only see his torso, his arms, part of the head with... what was it? A helmet, with a blacked out face? She felt faint. 'Hold me, Billy. Do something.
The words wouldn't come. Only involuntary screams. She looked at him for encouragement. 'I don't know what's happening, love. I don't know. I don't know what it is...'
She clung to him.
'Got to do something, get help, see to the kids...' he was telling her, 'go upstairs and see to the kids.
He watched her go, stumbling, sobbing up the stairs. Then turned to look again. It was still there, framed in the window. Motionless, looming at the window, just... what? Looking? Watching? Waiting? For what?
Never mind. Don't look too long. Get help - and quickly. Find Blackie. He was a good guard dog. Put him outside. Thoughts clamoured in Billy's head. He knew he had never
been this frightened in his life before, but that he had to
control his shaking, steady himself, act positively. Blackie was howling somewhere. The hall, probably.
He went to look. There he was, crouching in the corner, just howling. My God, he was as frightened as they were.
'Come, Blackie. Comon boy - outside, see him off...' Billy backed off. Blackie looked like he had the devil in him. His teeth were bared, hackles raised, ready to attack if provoked. No time to worry, thought Billy, grabbing the snarling dog by the scruff of its neck and thrusting it out of the front door into the blackness. Useless. He might have known. No sooner on the porch, than the frightened animal, howling and with its tail between its legs, streaked down the drive away from the house.
Billy slammed the door, spun around and backed himself up against it. The trembling started again. He was breathing heavily, sweating profusely. Jesus, he was frightened. He'd never felt so alone. He must get help, outside help. And fast. He didn't want to leave the cramped security of the darkened hall and go next door into the brightness of the lounge with the creature at the window, but he must. The telephone was there. He had to ring for help.
Would it still be there? He hardly dared look as he opened the door.
It was. Just as before. Just standing at the window looking in. But wait. A movement. Billy froze, the fear choking in his throat. One of the creature's hands… was it a hand?…. yes, a gloved hand... was moving, palm outstretched and pressed against the window pane, and now the pane of glass was rattling, vibrating to his touch at an incredible speed... the lights were flickering, on and off... the television, too... what was that interference on the screen?
He felt faint, his vision blurring. But it mustn't, he thought. Help. He must get help, before anything else happened. But who? Robert Morrison, first. He was their nearest neighbour, his farm was only two miles away. He could be here in a couple of minutes. And the police. He must call the police. They could be here quickly, surely.
'Robert, hello Robert? Thank God you're there. It's Billy, Billy Coombs. Come up here quickly, for God's sake come up here and help...'
'Billy? D'you know what time it is? Heave us above, it's gone one o'clock, I can't co... Billy cut him short. 'ROBERT, for God's sake, PLEASE...' '
You sound as if you're frightened witless, what's going on up there? Never mind... I'll be right with you...
The phone went dead. Billy gasped in relief. And now the police.
999
Which service do you require, Fire, Police or... police, police. Broad Haven police...
Billy glanced nervously up at the window. The figure was still there. Studying him, watching his every move.
'Hello, Broad Haven Police...' Billy steadied himself. They must
come, they had to. But would they believe him?
'Billy Coombs here, Ripperstone Farm, near Dale,' he began, trying to subdue the trembling in his voice.
'Yes, Mr Coombs, what seems to be the trouble?'
'We need help here, quickly. Please. Please could you send someone as soon as you can?'
'Need help, do you? What sort of help?'
'There's someone at the window.
'Intruder, is it?' cut in an efficient voice.
'No, no, you don't understand. We don't know who it is... or what it is...'
'What it is?'
'It's huge. Looks like a... well... a spaceman of some sort. Billy cursed himself for having to use the word. He was sure he
could hear chuckling from behind a muffled receiver.
All right sir, we'll send a car straight round to investigate your... ehr… intruder...The line went dead. He put the receiver back on the cradle with clumsy, quivering hands. Why should they have believed him? He didn't believe it himself. He glanced nervously at the window. It was still there. Crazy. This was absolutely crazy. He never had believed in such things. Not even in Mark Marston's story that very morning. Yet hadn't Mark described the same thing? He breathed in deeply, trying to rid his system of the feelings of nausea that kept sweeping over him and all the time diverting his gaze from the window – except when the compulsion grew too strong. Each time he glanced he hoped it would have gone. Yet it never had. Pauline... where was she? Upstairs with the kids. He must go and see if they were all right. He started up the stairs but only got as far as the first landing before he heard the sound of distant police sirens and turned back. By the time he reached the front room, the sirens were quite clear.
