Chester Parsons is Not a Gorilla

by Martyn Ford

  ‘Oi, monkey chops.’

  ‘You know gorillas aren’t actually monkeys,’ I typed.

  ‘You wot? Course they are. If … if they ain’t monkeys, what are they? Fish? Dogs? Come off it.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Amy said, checking the wing mirrors. ‘Gorillas are apes. They’re actually closer to humans than to monkeys.’ Just Amy is pretty clever, she knows stuff. ‘This is the place,’ she whispered, pulling up into a dingy alleyway.

  The ground was damp from the drizzle – puddles like black mirrors on the tarmac were exactly the same as the sky above, just darker. (I jumped in a puddle once and it was deeper than my wellies. That used to be what I would call a ‘bad day’. Losing your body really puts things into perspective.)

  We all climbed out of the car. The building was an old corner shop, gloomy, boarded up and covered in graffiti. It seemed abandoned – looked like a ‘proper dodgy little gaff’ according to Detective Pepper.

  Above the derelict shop was an apartment. ‘Up there, that’s it,’ Amy said. ‘This is what Cold Rain remembered. The last time they were together.’

  Before we headed inside, Silent Cameraman got some footage of the scene, stepping out into the road to get a better view of the long parade of shops. As he did, Detective Pepper walked across the pavement, made sure he was standing in shot, then popped the collar on his leather jacket.

  ‘Right, let’s do it,’ he said, pulling on his sleeves. Amy shook her head at the camera.

  We found some steel steps around the rear of the building. First up was Silent Cameraman who filmed Amy and Detective Pepper as they raced to the top, jostling for position like children. I came up last, my big fists clonking on each rusting step. I had no idea what time it was, but it was quiet, so we’re probably talking after midnight. All I could hear was the odd bit of traffic. I also couldn’t see the stars any more, not in the sky above or the puddles below. Nearby street lights had stolen them. Oh yeah, that’s why I hate street lights – they ruin night-time.

  ‘Hey, looks like someone’s beaten us to it,’ Amy said, pointing at the door, which had been broken. ‘Crowbar maybe?’

  She teased it open and went into the dark corridor.

  ‘Oi oi, there she goes,’ Detective Pepper whispered. ‘Waltzing right past the most obvious piece of evidence I’ve ever seen in my thirty-five years on this earth.’

  Amy turned around and laughed. ‘As if you’re only thirty-five.’

  ‘Easy, tiger sauce, that’s my showbiz age, ya know? Maybe it’s closer to forty-five. Maybe not. Depends who’s askin’.’

  ‘The evidence,’ Amy snapped. ‘What am I meant to have missed?’

  ‘Ah, well, if you don’t know then …’

  ‘Tell uhs,’ I grunted.

  Detective Pepper leant against the wall by the door, sighing and looking at his fingernails. ‘Have a gander at that lock then.’

  ‘Yeah, someone’s broken in,’ Amy said.

  He sighed again. ‘Look closer.’

  ‘What? If you’re trying to claim credit for spotting it then you can—’

  ‘DAH, dah, dah, dah, dah. It’s not a competition, Amy. We’re all on the same side.’ He crouched down and beckoned Silent Cameraman. ‘Zoom in on this business, chief. Whatdyasee, eh? Damage. Scratch marks around the lock. A break-in? Nah if I didn’t know better I’d say this was the work of a crowbar.’

  ‘Yeah, I said that.’

  ‘Dah, dah.’ He held up his hand. ‘But. But. BUT … the holes are too small. They’re making tiny crowbars now are they? Tools for dwarfs? Pull the other one, come on, I wasn’t born yesterday – dwarves use normal-size tools. Typically, their hands are deceivingly large. Strong too. I used to work with one. Big Jeff we called him. Cruel nickname really. Nah. This ain’t the work of shrunken burglars. This here …’ He looked right into the camera lens. ‘This was caused by … a hook.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ I said.

  ‘Bang. Bosh. Bingady ding-dong. Yes. YES.’ He stood up and threw his arms into the air. ‘He shoots he scores. Back in the game. Just like that, Pepper’s headline news again. Front page. Right at the top. They’ve got a picture. It’s an old one. He looks nice.’

  ‘Well done,’ Amy said, touching the broken wood. ‘I think you might be right.’

  ‘Course I’m right. Nah come on. Amy Scale. Shall we call that a ten?’

  ‘Four.’

  ‘Aw, ya just bein’ silly now,’ he said. ‘That was one of the best discoveries of the whole case. What did I say? From day one? Prime suspect. Dr Niko Vladovski. Old hook hand. Hang about – you said he was bald ’n all. Sounds like a star swimmin’, bear tamin’ Russian bodysnatcher to me.’

  We stepped inside, through a long shaded hallway. At the end, the apartment’s door was already open.

  In the flat we found stacks of books, some robes and even a few swords. Everything had a thick covering of dust. Old sunken cobwebs were pinned up in every corner and stretched along every wall, like horrible spider-bunting.

  And on the floor, a dried bloodstain – smears and footprints.

  ‘Wise Earth lived here,’ Amy said. ‘Cold Rain thought about this room. This table. These chairs. This is … this is where they fought.’

  It was clear the apartment hadn’t been touched for years and yet—

  A sound came from the bedroom.

  We all looked at each other, then I slowly pushed the door open with my finger. The hinges creaked.

  Everything had been trashed – journals torn to shreds, an old computer smashed on the ground. Someone had wrecked Wise Earth’s stuff. Someone—

  Detective Pepper pointed at the bed and mouthed, ‘He’s under there.’

  Then he gestured for me to lift it up. I strode forwards and, in one swift motion, picked up the entire bed, mattress, frame, the lot, and held it against the ceiling.

  ‘Guuurgh.’

  And there, lying on the floorboards, Dr Vladovski was checking his watch.

  ‘Oh, is that time?’ he said in his casual Russian accent. ‘I must be going home then.’

  I threw the bed behind me, where it smashed into a desk. Then I grabbed him from the floor, picked him up and slammed him against the wall.

  ‘You’ve been rumbled, ya creep beardy rascal,’ Detective Pepper yelled. ‘We know everything.’

  ‘You know … everything?’

  ‘Yeaaarggh,’ I shouted. ‘Wheergh maah booddaaah.’ No time to type.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Yeah, what he said,’ Detective Pepper added. ‘Where’s Wise Earth? You’re in this together aren’t you? Admit it.’

  Dr Vladovski’s feet were dangling, ‘Who … How … Why are you here?’

  ‘Cold Rain remembers this place,’ Amy said. ‘Why are you here?’

  His beard twitched with fear. ‘Cold … He … he … Hey, what’s that?!’

  We all turned and, as we did, Dr Vladovski slipped from my grasp, fell to the floor and scrabbled towards the window.

  ‘Aw, that’s a dirty trick, that one.’

  Without looking back, he dived through the glass and disappeared outside. There was a thud.

  ‘Ouch,’ he shouted.

  I went to the broken window, put my hairy hand on the frame and glanced down. Dr Vladovski had landed in a bin in the alleyway.

  ‘Imma say it.’ Detective Pepper arrived at my side. ‘I told ya so. I told ya so. Does that look like the behaviour of an innocent man?’

  Dr Vladovski clambered out of the bin and towards the car. Somehow he unlocked it.

  ‘Hang about.’ Detective Pepper patted his pockets. ‘He’s got my keys! He’s nickin’ the motor!’

  We all darted for the door and got to the top of the steel steps just in time to see the car rev and screech off around the corner leaving behind only steam, burnt rubber and confusion.

  *

  You ever do something without thinking and then instantly regret it? Once, when we were younger, I pushed Amy into a canal after sh
e said that no one likes me because I have a ‘simple little face’. She kept saying it, even singing it, and I kept telling her not to. Then, in a frenzy of anger, I just shoved her as hard as I could. Stumble. Splash. Straight into the brown canal.

  She lurched up like a terrible swamp monster, screaming and wading towards me. All soggy and shocked. I started apologising straight away because a) Mum had seen and was angry and b) Amy kept promising, with lots of swear words (some of the worst ones), that she was going to do a murder.

  The very moment I pushed her, maybe even as I was doing it, I was thinking, this really is a bad thing. Yeah. I wish I hadn’t done this.

  Well, I had a similar feeling that night when Dr Vladovski ran away. It was obvious he was, in some way, guilty. As Detective Pepper said, innocent people don’t run. But this was hardly the end of the case – I had, by far, more questions than answers. And if he escaped, the odds of tracking him down were basically zero.

  Vladovski still puzzled me. There was something mysterious about that guy. So I knew, no matter what the cost, I had to stop him. I had to learn everything he knew about all this. Ideally, I needed to get back into his brain.

  With this in mind, I watched the stolen car drift out into the road, the red brake lights glowing in a cloud of steam, and then I turned and started climbing. Primal instinct, a bit of Tito’s jungle fever, took over and I was suddenly on the roof of those abandoned shops. There were about six buildings attached to one another, a long parade – basically a high street.

  Thumping along on my feet and fists, I looked to my left, over the edge, and saw the car below. Three storeys below. It was slowing at the junction – I could just make out the side of Vladovski’s thick beard in the hazy street light. But I couldn’t get a clear shot at his mind.

  Then he swung the car round, skidding, mounting the curb and revving away along a new road up ahead of me.

  Now here’s the part I regretted a millisecond after I did it.

  I ran to the edge of the building, leapt up on to a low barrier and, grunting and pushing off with my legs, I jumped.

  Just jumped right off the roof. I remember thinking, as I flew through the air, past black telephone wires, with the wind in my hair, high over the street below, that I might have made a mistake. As I started to fall and that rollercoaster feeling squeezed in my chest, I decided that I definitely had made a mistake. I could sense Tito’s body reacting too. It was like, um, what the hell are you doing? Here’s a massive injection of nervous gorilla regret.

  However, gravity just does not care about your feelings. I came down fast and hard but, luckily, I had timed the jump quite well.

  With a brutal THUD, I landed on the bonnet of the moving car. My head and shoulder smashed into the windscreen, my lower body crushed through the metal, dislodging the engine and buckling one of the wheels below, popping both front tyres.

  Now consider what poor Dr Vladovski would have seen. Put yourself in his mind for a moment. So he’s just stolen a car and assumes he’s getting away. He’s probably thinking he’s on the home straight when, out of nowhere, a one hundred and fifty nine kilogram silverback falls out of the sky like a hairy meteorite. Phew, that was close, glad I managed to escape from—

  BANG. Gorilla o’clock.

  The car swerved, tilted and went straight into the front of a shop. Its wheels rode up and stopped dead against the low wall. But as you can imagine, I did not stop. I went flying backwards at considerable speed, carving through shelves and food and drink – everything just exploding out of my way. Imagine throwing a cannon ball at a Lego house. That’s the sort of destruction we’re talking about.

  I landed sideways, right in the middle of the bread section, surrounded by dust and debris.

  The whole thing – from jump to now – probably took about five or six seconds.

  With a groan, I clambered up on to all fours and picked some bits of brick out of my shoulder hair. The car was wedged in the front of the shop, the engine had gurgled to silence. Steam, smoke and exhaust fumes filled the air.

  After checking Tito’s arms and legs for injuries (he was pretty much fine – few grazes and bumps, definite sore shoulder, but gorillas are tough), I leapt outside and on to the bonnet again. The soft-top roof came off easily and I flung it behind me. Considering the crash, Dr Vladovski was in pretty good shape too – just a couple of cuts and bruises.

  The first thing I noticed when I made eye contact with him was that tingly head-rush feeling. He was trying to mind jump into me.

  Resisting it, I roared:

  ‘WHEEERRGGHH ISS MAAAH BO—’

  But then I heard a whistle and a thump. Something hit me in the neck. Ouch. Ouch. Felt like a bee sting. I tried to swat it. Something metal and hard. I pulled it out and looked. It was a dart. A tranquilliser dart. I threw it away. Then I turned to see where it had come from and, dizzy now, dizzier than the wine times, I spotted a large black van parked on the street opposite.

  Something was written on the side. Animal … Animal Control?

  Aw, not now, I thought, slumping flat on the broken bonnet of the car. The last thing I saw, as I was trying desperately to stay awake, was Vladovski’s face. For the second time, I jumped without thinking. This leap of faith, however, was into the doctor’s mind …

  OK, I’ll be straight with you, this bit of the story is quite strange. But honestly this is what it was like and I promise, even though it’s crazy, it will (kind of) make sense in the end.

  It started with a voice.

  ‘… three, two and one … You can open your eyes now.’

  Dark red, almost black. The back of my eyelids. Then two little stripes of white light. Blurry, blurry and finally … I could see.

  I sat up, rubbing my forehead. Where was I? Somewhere familiar. Dr Vladovski was sitting opposite me, in a chair, with a notepad. He twirled his pen. I looked down. I was on a brown sofa. On the wall nearby was a black and white photograph of a bear. Wait. I knew this place. This was his office.

  Hang on. I looked down again. I was human. Yes. Yes, this was definitely the body of Chester Parsons. I grabbed my legs and patted my arms. Oh man, such a relief. It was all over. I had found myself. I was back where I started, back at that very first therapy session.

  The whole thing had just been a bad dream. I went home and lived happily ever after.

  The End

  Obviously no, not really.

  ‘That was so weird,’ I said, standing up in Dr Vladovski’s office and looking in the mirror – I really was back to my old self. ‘I had the most vivid dream … It was like I left my body … and I … I ended up in a gorilla … I jumped off a roof. You were there. Amy was there. We were filming a TV show. I made friends with a rat. It seemed so real …’

  I turned towards Dr Vladovski – and screamed at what I saw. His head had been replaced by a giant hook and, on the end of his left hand, a miniature version of his head was staring at me. It was as though his sleeve was his collar. Looked like a sort of snake-man with a beard. He waved it at me.

  ‘Um,’ I said. ‘OK.’

  ‘Chester, listen,’ the horrible little Dr Vladovski hand-head hissed. ‘Do you know what this is?’

  ‘Unpleasant?’

  The room was bigger than I remembered. Actually it was huge. Bigger than anything I had ever seen …

  Something touched my leg. A dog. It looked just like—

  ‘Dandelion?’ I said – that’s her name, I remember now. ‘Is that you?’

  I fell to my knees and reached for her, but as I did she turned and ran towards the door.

  ‘Chester!’ Vladovski shouted – or kind of squeaked because his head was so tiny. ‘Stop and think. Look at your thoughts. Where are you? You must pay attention.’

  ‘Dude, my dog just escaped,’ I said.

  Following Dandelion, I arrived at the door, which was actually a garden gate. I pushed and it creaked open on to a castle roof. It was weird – it was like our back garden but on a massi
ve stone tower.

  Dandelion wagged her tail and smiled. ‘All right, Chester?’ she said. ‘Woof woof and all that.’ Then, before I could stop her, she bounded and dived off the edge of the roof. ‘LOL, laters,’ she yelled.

  ‘NO!’

  ‘Chester!’

  I turned back into Vladovski’s office, which was now Amy’s bedroom – I saw a million miles of fairy lights. Amy was there. She was just the same apart from being covered in black fur. I said hello and she grunted. At least I’m still myself, I thought, stepping back to the mirror.

  Nope. I was Dr Vladovski. I looked down at my hands. Both of them were little heads.

  ‘Chester,’ they said. ‘Chester. Chester.’

  ‘CHESTER!’ I shouted. ‘What?’

  I spun round and Dr Vladovski was just Dr Vladovski again. We were back in his office. Everything seemed normal.

  ‘Surely you can figure out what this is?’

  ‘Stressful? Horrible? Very strange? I don’t know.’

  ‘You must say it.’

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘Come on, look out of the window!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Describe the weather.’

  ‘Um, it’s raining … raining potatoes …’

  When each potato landed, it bounced, then transformed into a rat and scurried away. A giant wasp buzzed past the window and nodded at me. ‘Evenin’,’ it said.

  ‘Oohhhh. Yeah, of course.’ I tutted. ‘It’s a dream. It’s obvious now. Dreams are weird, aren’t they?’

  ‘But this is a very special dream.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes, it is lucid dream,’ Vladovski said. ‘Do you know what this means?’

  ‘It’s a dream that I know is a dream?’

  ‘And you are in control.’ Dr Vladovski stood up and walked forwards. ‘It is important you listen to me.’

  ‘Why? Actually, it doesn’t matter – what’s this even doing in my story? Dream scenes suck. I’m gonna wake up now, bye.’

  I started jiggling and shaking, kicking my legs out, thrashing about like a fish on a beach. I did it so much I fell to the carpet. After a few seconds I realised I couldn’t wake up.