by Paul A. Rice
The three onlookers stared at the innocent items and then sat in silence for a while. Jane leaned back in the couch and rested her head. She began to drift away, the light from the table lamp filtering dimly through her eyelids. She heard George saying something, his voice seemed to be coming from very far away but she didn’t have the energy to open her leaden eyelids to see where he had gone. His words reached out to her from a tunnel, one which that seemed to have appeared in her head. A deep redness, like the colour of the case, filled her mind. It bought calmness with it and Jane happily went down into the restful caress it offered. She just wanted to sleep. ‘A lovely, deep sleep without any bloody strange dreams, thank you…’ Her wish was granted – in seconds she was wrapped within the arms of a dreamless slumber.
The three men looked at the place that she had occupied so recently, Ken saw the leather on the couch reassert itself now the pressure of his wife’s body had been removed from its surface. ‘She’s going be okay, isn’t she, George?’ he asked, worriedly. ‘I mean, this is hard enough for us to comprehend, and we’ve been here before.’ The familiar seed of doubt had begun to form within his mind once more.
George reached across and laid his bony hand on Ken’s shoulder. ‘I believe so, my boy. She is a very tough lady, one who has had this thrust upon her rather quickly, wouldn’t you say?’ He looked into Ken’s eyes. ‘The simple fact that all she did was fall asleep is in itself a very positive sign,’ he said. ‘All she has witnessed here tonight will be digested by her resting mind, and when she awakens, the answers, the understanding, will be in her head, trust me – at this precise moment she is safely at home in your warm bed.’ He patted Ken’s shoulder and then turned to Mike, saying: ‘How are you holding up, Michael? I sometimes tend to forget a lot of this is new to you as well.’ George winked at him.
Mike stood and thought for a while before answering. ‘Yeah, I guess that I am, George,’ he said. ‘I hadn’t realised the practical side of what we are doing, I suppose, but seeing the weapons like this makes everything very real.’ He looked at Ken, asking: ‘What about you Kenny, are you getting all of this?’
Ken nodded, saying: ‘Yeah, pretty much the same as you, Mike. I’m definitely up for this, but the thought of knocking people off turns my gut a bit. Shooting someone who has just been spraying hot lead in your direction is one thing, but…’ He nodded towards the table where George’s ‘toys’ lay. ‘Those things are something else entirely!’ Then he smiled and quipped something about: ‘Getting too old for this bloody lark!’
George said, ‘Right then, gentlemen, let us finish here, for it is getting late.’ Reaching over to the table he lifted one of the miniature vehicles. ‘Do you need me to go over the operation of this?’ he asked.
Mike said he didn’t think it was necessary and turned to Ken for his confirmation. ‘No, just as long as they’re similar to the last ones then we should be okay.’ Ken said. In truth, he’d begun to reach his limit and guessed that one type of Spear was probably as good as the next.
George gave them a quick insight into their new toys. ‘They are very similar in many ways, but are also much more advanced; you may travel whilst in Shrink Down mode in these vehicles. There is a comprehensive navigation system that can put you within inches of your destination. Simply use the buttons and you will be where you need to be, in seconds!’ He slid open a hidden compartment in the lid of the case and removed two more zappers. They looked like the original keys that would have come with the BMWs, should they have been designed on Earth. The only difference lay in the markings on the side of the key fobs. Two arrows, one big and one small, were neatly recessed within the top of each case.
‘Everything else is the same as it was on the vehicles you have used before, but as I have just said – they are in a far more advanced state of design,’ George commented, as he laid the key fobs on the table next to the vehicles. Picking up the packet of blue tablets, he said, ‘Make absolutely sure you consume one of these before you attempt any form of movement in Shrink Down mode. One every time, if you please! If not, well, then you may become quite ill. Oh, and wear the suits, too, of course. We did not have the time or the place to experiment with all of this, I am afraid, so I wouldn’t be getting too adventurous if I were you!’ He turned away and slipped the pills back into their plastic box.
Ken tried to figure out that last comment about the vehicles. The Spears he and Mike used previously had been out of this world. ‘Now he says they’re more advanced and we can use them here on Earth, just pop a ‘bluey’ and off we go.’ It was just another buzz-bomb that went whizzing, unattended, around his mind. Anytime now he was going to have to shoot some of them down. Shoot them down before they crash-landed somewhere in his grey matter and caused some even more serious damage. Ken was actually starting to wonder if he had any of his own brain cells left.
George was talking again. ‘Anyway, please ensure that you have a little play with them first, just to make sure that you get used to the controls,’ he said.
They agreed, and then watched as he touched the white target screen. With a soft crackling noise, it snapped back into a roll. George slid it back into the case, then picked up the items from the table and returned them to their rightful places within the red interior.
Pointing at a previously un-noticed pouch on the inside of the lid, he said, ‘I have placed a comprehensive instruction manual in there for you. It covers all the things that lie within this case and includes some handy hints, too.’ He paused, before saying: ‘I have also placed the information on one of your media discs, and as camouflage I have copied some of your music data on top of it. I must say, I really do enjoy some of those tunes, yes, I quite enjoy them indeed!’
With a grin, the old man unexpectedly broke into the words from one of Ken’s favourite songs. ‘She’s got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories, where everything…’ George trotted out the remaining lyrics, ably accompanied by an invisible air-guitar.
For one second, Ken would have sworn that the lead singer of Guns and Roses stood before them, baggy brown trousers swinging to the sudden rhythm of his gyrating hips. His imitation of the classic rock song was quite remarkable and both Ken and Mike stared at each other in surprise.
George stopped signing and looked at them. ‘That particular song is one of my favourites. I have all of their music…’ he said, with an insane laugh.
Ken felt the hairs rise on his neck and just managed to suppress a small, insane laugh of his own. ‘Shit… George! Are you for real, or what?’ he said, loudly. The old man had stunned him.
George looked at them innocently. ‘You would be surprised by what we can see and hear from up there,’ he said, nodding his grey head upwards in a gentle reference to the heavens above.
Mike whispered: ‘Yeah, I just bet we would!’ He glanced at Ken out of the corner of his eye, the expression on his face saying all that was needed.
The old man continued as though nothing had happened. ‘Anyway, should the disc fall into the wrong hands then it will only ever appear as the aforementioned music,’ he said. ‘You must use Michael’s Communicator to read it properly. Without that machine the information will remain hidden.’
George’s casual reference to the weird laptop back at the lodge reminded them all of where they were and what they were doing.
In a world of madness, Ken felt his mind sliding again.
‘Right,’ George said, ‘I think we are just about done for the time being, my friends. A lot to deal with, I know, but I trust you will sleep on it and then see how you feel in the morning.’
Turning towards the door, he peered at the light outside, it looked as though some sort of dawn was breaking as there was a faint glimmer of light beginning to filter through the dirt-stained glass.
‘You should go, my boys,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t worry about the equipment; it will be transferred to your abode this very night. Examine it when you have the time, please.’ He walke
d across the room towards them and all three engaged in the by-now-customary embrace.
‘Travel safely, my friends,’ George said, breaking from the embrace to move across to the door. Turning back to them, he whispered: ‘I will be in touch shortly, sleep well.’ Then, with the door grating shut behind him, he was gone.
Mike turned to Ken, asking: ‘What did you make of all that?’
Ken thought about it for a second or two. Glancing down at his large hands, as if seeking an answer within their shape, he said, ‘To be honest, I don’t really know what to think at the moment, one half of me…well, it just wants to get on with it, whilst the other half simply wants to run like hell! We’re damned if we do and everybody else is damned if we don’t!’
As he spoke, Ken felt the familiar sensation of the Dream Maker’s arrival – the sliding began in earnest. Ken looked up into the eyes of his friend and knew this particular meeting was over. He saw that Mike felt it, too.
In the spiralling blackness, he heard Mike’s voice.
The Australian was saying: ‘I guess that we’re between a rock and hard place, it’s always the same damn thing with us, ain’t it, Ken?’
The last thing Ken heard was the sound of Mike laughing.
12
First-Timers
It was to be four days later when they received their first assignment. Four long days, during which the trio discussed every detail of their situation, over-and-over again. They also tried to come to terms with what they were going to undertake, and spent time learning to use the equipment properly. The suitcase, just as George had said it would be, was waiting for them in the lodge on the morning after their crazy meeting with the old man. There, when they awoke, nestled on top of the kitchen table, lay the little container. It was much smaller in size than the remote control device, which sat next to it.
Jane, who was first up, moved both the items to the far end of the kitchen work surface, and then put the kettle on. She had a splitting headache and needed tea and aspirins – she was in no mood for weird expanding suitcases and other equally bizarre things. Not just yet anyway.
‘Tea first, please, if you don’t mind, George!’ she said, out loud. Hearing the stairs creak, Jane turned and watched her husband as he padded barefoot through the hallway to join her in the kitchen.
‘Good morning, gorgeous, still busy talking to yourself, I see…’ Ken said, with a roll of the eyes. He gave Jane a quick kiss and then took three mugs down from the cupboard. Looking at her, he asked: ‘All okay after last night, hun? Can you remember everything, how’s the ear?’
She passed the milk to him, saying: ‘Yes, and yes, and…it’s given me a belter of a headache!’ Grimacing, she pulled out a chair and plonked herself down on it.
Ken laughed and looked down at her. ‘Perhaps we should take a walk, blow the cobwebs away a bit, eh?’ he asked.
Jane said that she thought it was a grand idea and then suggested they have a couple of mugs of tea whilst they waited for Mike to get up.
Ken smiled, before replying with: ‘We’ll be here until lunchtime if we do that, he likes a lie-in, does our Mike. I’ll take him a brew and throw his arse outta bed.’
Within five minutes he had done just that.
They were soon joined in the kitchen by the weary-looking, unshaven Australian. ‘Bloody hell, people,’ he complained, ‘what time do you call this? It’s the middle of the damned night, for Christ’s sake!’ Mike collapsed into the chair and lifted the mug to his lips, cupping it in both hands to sip the hot tea.
After breakfast they donned their coats and whistled for the dogs, before trekking up the slope behind the house. As they walked, the three of them discussed their meeting with George and the things he had said to them. They also talked about the weird items they had been shown. Strange, deadly objects that now lay in a tiny case back at the lodge below them.
Jane said she was okay with it, and apart from the now departed headache, she felt fine. ‘It makes sense in many ways, I suppose,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone. But, if, as George says, there are some people, who, for whatever reason, are going to prevent the future of our planet advancing…then it puts us in a difficult position, doesn’t it?’ She clambered up the final slope and slid onto the bench-like stone perch which topped the slope.
Mike agreed. ‘That’s exactly what Ken and I were saying last night,’ he said. ‘We know about this now and we have the choice as to whether we act on George’s information or not.’
Ken interjected. ‘Don’t forget that we still have a choice, even when we’ve been given the information, we can still say ‘no’, can’t we? And who says we have to hurt or kill anyone? Maybe, if we get the chance, we can just persuade them otherwise?’ he said, looking at the other two with a frown.
They sat and thought about that. Ken’s remarks made sense and the idea also gave them a comfortable get-out-clause. They talked some more and then, after some fifteen minutes or so, decided to wait and see what happened next. They couldn’t anticipate George’s next move and so there would be no point in them trying to second-guess themselves.
Mike chipped in, saying: ‘Let’s get the kit sorted and then have a look at the Spears, shall we? Jane needs to get used to how they work anyway.’ Looking at Ken, he said, ‘And since it’s been a while, I guess that we might as well have a refresher, too!’
***
Over the next four days they familiarised themselves with all the lethal things held within the case. One morning, whilst sitting in the kitchen, Jane watched as Mike inserted George’s ‘music disc’ into his machine. She laughed when she heard about the old man’s impromptu rock star performance.
‘Now that is something that I would like to have seen!’ she said, carrying out some practice in arming and disarming the pen. Ken had made them do all the drills over and over. Standing, kneeling, sitting, and also whilst lying down. On their backs and on their bellies – they practised using the weapons in every conceivable position and situation.
‘Practice makes perfect, guys…practice makes perfect!’ It was Ken’s motto and he made it theirs, too. By the end they were able to find, arm, and use the devices in complete darkness. The target screen glowed with their accurate shooting. They discovered the pens had an almost unlimited range and that the effect on the target was just as devastating no matter what range they fired from. The only problem being, those longer ranges made it more difficult to aim accurately. The other thing to become apparent was the strong odour that each device emitted after they had been used.
It reminded Ken of the Storm – the smell reeked of burnt things.
Using the stun guns was a simple affair and it didn’t take too long to master a reasonable technique. Ken had decided they should use them as a backup weapon in case something went ‘pear-shaped’. He looked seriously at them and added: ‘Well, you never know what’s gonna happen, and it’s always better to have a plan, isn’t it?’
The other two agreed and concentrated even harder on their training. They also tried out the spray cans; the carpet of electrical sparks which the vapour left after each discharge still fascinated them.
‘You just know that you wouldn’t want a face full of this stuff, don’t you?’ Mike said, shaking his head in distaste.
The other two agreed, totally.
The other thing that amazed them was that none of the weapons ever seemed to need any recharging. Every morning they performed just as they had the day previously. When Jane asked about it, the men had no answer.
Mike said, ‘I haven’t a clue, it must be something to do with the design. I’m sure that we would have been told if it was otherwise.’
Ken had also read the instruction disc thoroughly and there wasn’t a single thing about recharging anywhere. ‘Let’s just hope they don’t conk out when we need them most…’ he commented, dryly. He shrugged his shoulders and then packed the aerosols back into their case.
The best fun they had was with the Spears.
Ken had carried them into the old barn, which lay in the field next to the lodge. Although he and Jane didn’t officially own the barn, they had almost assumed squatters’ rights over the old building. Frank Ball, the neighbouring farmer, had moved away from keeping livestock a few years ago and had asked Ken and Jane if the old barn was a nuisance.
‘I’ll ha’ the boys take it doon if it’s a wurry to you, Jane, aye?’ he’d said. The red-faced Scotsman was a great guy and had become one of their favourite neighbours. Ken and Jane often stopped off at the old farmhouse to deliver a brace of pheasants to the Balls. They never left empty-handed – there was always a spare black-pudding, or a tasty homemade meat-pie that just seemed to miraculously appear from the larder as they were leaving.
Ken had told Frank that the barn wasn’t a worry, and if it was okay, then he may well use it as a small shooting-range, just to keep his guns zeroed in. They had agreed and that was the end to it. And so, their pseudo-ownership of one large barn had begun.
Presently, it became the perfect place to check out their new vehicular additions. Whilst Ken unpacked the vehicles and dug out the fobs, Mike opened his communicator and asked Jane to come over to where the machine was now displaying a blank screen. She noticed that there were several, bright blue dots racing across the bottom of it.
Mike pushed the screen all the way back so that it now lay flat. ‘Stick your hand on there, palm down,’ he said, nodding at the glass surface. ‘Don’t worry, it’s only so you can gain entrance to the Spears, just think of it as a state-of-the-art alarm system is all.’
Jane did as she was asked, and seconds later she was done. Feeling slightly puzzled, she looked at Mike and waited for an explanation.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said. ‘It just takes samples of your DNA and stuff, stops anyone else from gaining access to them.’ He turned back to the machine and started tapping away.
