by Sam Short
“What is it?” came the reply. “Have you come to tell me that you’ve finished your painfully slow forensic sweep of the sand dunes, and I’m now welcome to begin my investigation into the skeleton of the extra-terrestrial creature which awaits my expert scrutiny?”
“Not quite!” yelled Sergeant Spencer. “I’m here to ask you about some very interesting information I have about you.”
Silence. Then the stomping of feet inside the vehicle. The door opened with a click, light flooding from the narrow doorway, and the smell of coffee following it. “Oh, you’ve brought your little fan club, I see, Sergeant Spencer,” said Mister Anon, peering at Millie and Judith. “What is it I can help you three fine people with?”
“You can let us in for a start,” said Sergeant Spencer, stepping up into the van, brushing away Mister Anon’s feeble attempt at blocking the entrance. “I’ve got a few things I’d like to speak with you about.”
Mister Anon stood in the centre of the narrow aisle, the driver’s cab to his left, and the small seating and sleeping area to his right, where Mister Incognito sat at a table with a monopoly board in front of him. “What sort of things?” he said.
“We could begin with deciding what we should call one another. I’m fine with you calling me Sergeant Spencer, but what should I call you? Should I call you Mister Anon?” said the policeman, glancing at his phone. “Or should I call you by your real name, Graham Spalding?”
Mister Incognito leapt to his feet, banging his head on a built-in overhead cupboard. “You shouldn’t call him by his real name! It’s against the rules of the Alien Search Syndicate and —”
“It’s okay. Sit down,” said Mister Anon, placing a hand on his companion’s shoulder. He removed his cap, tossed it aside and sat down next to Mister Incognito, pushing a pile of monopoly money aside. “I assume it’s not just my name you have?” he asked.
Sergeant Spencer smiled. “No, Graham. It’s not just your name I have. The email I received from the FBI is an eyeopener, to say the least.”
“The FBI?” said Graham Spalding. “You have been busy, Sergeant Spencer.”
“You’ve got a colourful history across the pond, haven’t you?” said the sergeant. “And you’ve made quite an impact in our own country, too. I’ve never seen so many restraining orders filed against one person.”
“Restraining orders?” said Millie.
“Used as political weapons against me!” said Graham. “The people on that list of yours are using those orders to keep their true identities a secret. Those people are the dangerous people, not me — as the FBI and NASA have falsely implied!”
Judith frowned. “NASA?” she said.
“Oh yes,” said Sergeant Spencer. “Graham was sacked from his job as an electrical engineer at NASA last year.”
“I didn’t like Florida anyway. It was too hot,” said Graham. “And the people at NASA didn’t take their jobs seriously. They’re too focused on outer space, when they should be concentrating on the dangers lurking on our own planet!”
“Why were you sacked from NASA?” asked Millie.
“Shall I tell her, or will you?” said Sergeant Spencer.
Graham sighed. “I was sacked because of a silly misunderstanding,” he said.
“You tried to rip an astrophysicist’s face off, Graham!” said Sergeant Spencer. “He was forced to take four weeks off from work, and he’s not sure that he’ll ever be able to regrow his beard. The medical report said you’d torn off two inches of flesh along with the goatee. How can you call that a silly misunderstanding?”
“I misunderstood the evidence I’d collated on him,” said Graham. “I’d had my doubts about him from the day I’d infiltrated NASA. There was something about his eyes, and the way he walked. He looked uncomfortable in his own skin. Like it was a costume. I had to act. I followed him home from work on a few occasions, and on one Friday afternoon, I followed him to a shop specialising in exotic pets. Reptiles, mostly. When I saw what he’d bought — a box of frozen mice, I knew I had my man banged to rights! I thought I did, anyway. It turns out I was wrong on that occasion.”
“Wrong about what?” asked Judith.
“Wrong in my assumption that he was one of the extraterrestrial Lizard Illuminati, of course!” said Graham. “He’d ticked so many boxes, too. The mice were the final piece of the puzzle. How was I to know he kept snakes? How was I to know the mice were food intended for his pets, and not for him? Like I said — a silly misunderstanding.”
“You thought he was a lizard?” said Millie. “Really?”
“They’re amongst us!” snapped Graham, bringing his fist down on the table, making Mister Incognito jump. “They walk amongst us, but nobody takes the threat they pose seriously. And I won’t rest until I’ve proved their existence to the world!”
“He wasn’t the only person you accused of being a lizard person, was he, Graham?” said Sergeant Spencer. “I have a list of almost one hundred people you’ve accused, and those are just the ones who took out restraining orders against you. Who knows how many other people you’ve confronted with claims that they’re aliens masquerading as humans.”
“A hundred people?” said Judith. “That sounds serious.”
“The problem of the Lizard Illuminati is serious!” said Graham. “The work I’m doing is serious! The lizard race must be exposed to humanity! I’m trying to save the human race! That is serious!”
Sergeant Spencer stared at the email displayed on his phone. “And that’s what you thought you were doing when you harassed and stalked all those innocent people? Including seventy members of the public and several celebrities, such as Mark Zuckerberg, Jeff Bezos, William Shatner, Gordon Ramsay —”
“I’m still unsure about Chef Ramsay,” said Graham. “That face of his looks very malleable. I’m certain it’s a mask. I’m waiting to see if I’ve been accepted as a contestant on the next season of Hell’s Kitchen. I want to be close to him. He’ll slip up eventually. That temper of his will be the cause of his downfall. The lizard inside will make itself known during one of his outbursts. You wait and see!”
Sergeant Spencer continued reading from his phone, firing a stern glance at Graham. “The list doesn’t end with Gordon. There’s Lee Majors, Clint Eastwood, Dolly Parton, Chris de Burgh, David Blaine, Carol Thatcher and you were almost charged for assaulting Dame Edna Everage.”
“I thought I’d finally caught one when her wig came off in my hand,” said Graham, gazing at the table. “I had no idea. It was very good makeup. Luckily, Barry Humphries has his suspicions about the Chuckle Brothers being lizard people. He told the police he didn’t want to press charges, and told me to keep up the good work.”
“It says here that even David Icke has a restraining order out against you, Graham,” said Sergeant Spencer. “If your search for lizard people is annoying David Icke, then I think it’s high time you re-evaluated your life and your beliefs.”
Graham Spalding smiled. “I won’t need to keep looking for lizard people when I get that skeleton out of the dunes,” he said. “That skeleton is my ticket to fame and recognition. I’m transporting it to America where I’ll reveal it to the world!” He glanced at Millie. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anybody where I found it. I’m a man of my word. Spellbinder Bay will be safe from intrusion by the press. Your quaint little town will carry on as normal, and I’ll be the first man to have discovered the remains of an actual alien!”
“You’re taking it to America?” said Sergeant Spencer. “I don’t think so. It says in this email that you’re banned from America, Brazil, Uzbekistan and Vatican City.”
“They’ll let me into America when I tell NASA I have an alien skeleton,” said Graham. “I’ll be forgiven for all the errors I made in my search for the Lizard Illuminati. They’ll understand that the people with facial wounds and PTSD were collateral damage.”
“What about Mister Incognito?” said Millie. “How does he fit into all of this?”
M
ister Incognito leaned forward and peered at Millie over the rims of his glasses. “That’s very convenient,” he murmured. “Very congenial, indeed.”
“Never mind, Mister Incognito,” said Graham. “It is a difficult word.”
“So, who is he, Graham?” said Judith. “He doesn’t seem…. all there, if you ask me.”
“He was a brilliant scientist, until a year ago,” said Graham, opening the can of cola which Mister Incognito was struggling with. He poked a straw in the opening and handed it to his companion. “He had an accident while performing an experiment. His name is Peter Simmons, he was —”
“Not my real name!” said Mister Incognito, cola bubbling from his mouth. “You’re not supposed to say it!”
“That doesn’t matter anymore, Peter,” said Graham. “It’s okay, now.”
“Oh,” said Peter, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. “So I can take my glasses off, now? It’s hard to see inside the van with sunglasses on.”
“Yes,” said Graham. “You can take them off. Our identities are no longer a secret.”
“You said he had an accident while performing an experiment?” said Millie. “What sort of experiment?”
“Peter was trying to prove that other dimensions existed,” said Graham. “He was certain that our dimension is just one of thousands. Millions, even. He believed that creatures from the other dimensions sometimes slipped through from their world, into our reality. Whereas I was looking for aliens from outer space, Peter Simmons was focused on proving that creatures from other dimensions inhabited our world.”
“That’s mad,” said Judith, raising an eyebrow at Millie. “Other dimensions! I’ve heard it all, now!”
“Whether I believed him or not,” said Graham. “He was a great ally to me. He had access to the Large Hadron Collider, near Geneva. Everybody wants access to that!”
“That’s where they search for new particles and types of matter, isn’t it?” said Millie. “I’ve read about it. There was a concern that they might accidentally open a black-hole and destroy the planet.”
“That was a concern to some people, but I hoped it would happen,” said Graham. “I have a theory that aliens travel across the vast distances of space using black-holes, and not worm-holes, as portrayed by science fiction. I hoped Peter Simmons could help me prove I was correct.”
“Is that what happened to him?” said Judith. “He accidentally opened a black-hole and had a terrible accident? Is that why he’s so… different? The poor man.”
“Gosh, no,” said Graham. “Nobody managed to accidentally open a black-hole. Peter was electrocuted.”
“By the Hadron Collider?” said Millie, watching Peter Simmons slip a wad of monopoly money into his Batman wallet, while Graham was facing the other way. “The poor man.”
“No,” said Graham. “It was a toaster.”
“A toaster?” said Sergeant Spencer. “From another dimension?”
Graham shook his head. “Nothing so extravagant. He’d finished the first phase of an experiment, and had taken half an hour for lunch,” he said. “It was a toaster in the cafeteria which broke Peter’s brilliant mind. Everybody knows you shouldn’t dislodge stuck toast from a toaster with a metal knife, yet people still insist on doing it, and they get away with it for the most part, without injury. It wasn’t Peter’s lucky day, though — it was a thick wholemeal crust which had become stuck in the machine. Peter really had to wiggle the knife around in the bowels of that toaster. The electric shock stopped his heart, and it was the lack of oxygen supply to his brain before the paramedics managed to revive him, which damaged his great mind.”
“So, it was nothing to do with the Large Hadron Collider, black-holes or other dimensions?” said Sergeant Spencer.
“Not directly,” said Graham.
“Not at all,” said Millie. “It was a kitchen accident.”
“Cafeteria,” said Graham.
“Why is Peter here with you, Graham?” asked Sergeant Spencer. “If his mind is no longer as brilliant as it once was, then what help is he to you?”
“I make Pop-Tarts in the microwave, don’t I, Mister Anon?” said Peter. “I help out, don’t I?”
“You do, Peter,” said Graham. “And you have an extraordinary collection of scientific equipment in the lab you built in the basement beneath your house, before the toaster incident rendered you incapable of being able to use it.”
“That’s my stuff!” snapped Peter. “You be careful with it! I like my stuff!”
Graham put a hand on Peter’s arm. “It is your stuff, yes, and I’ve promised you lots of times that it will be looked after. There’s no need to worry.” He looked at Sergeant Spencer. “He’s very protective about his equipment and his lab — which is where we’ll be taking the skeleton when you allow us to excavate it. I’ll put Peter’s equipment to good use, and when I’ve proved, using science, that it is of extra-terrestrial origin, we’ll transport it to America — where I’ll finally be recognised as the man who proved we are not alone in the vastness of space!”
“What makes you think you’ll be getting anywhere near that skeleton?” said Sergeant Spencer.
“I have to!” said Graham. “I must have that skeleton, and if you don’t allow me access to it, I’ll do as I threatened when I first arrived here. I’ll tell the whole world what lays in the sand! I’ll bring the world’s media giants down on Spellbinder Bay! I’ll ruin your town!”
“Two things,” said Sergeant Spencer. “One — nobody will believe a word you say. Your reputation is ruined in the alien hunting world. Even David Icke thinks you’re a fish short of a shoal. Nobody will take you seriously. Especially when you don’t have a skeleton to back up your claims.”
Graham’s eyes narrowed, and he formed a fist. “I’ll get that skeleton,” he said. “Even if I have to force my way past you.”
“Which brings me to the second point, Graham,” said Sergeant Spencer. “You’re on bail. You were released from police custody two weeks ago. You were arrested in London on charges of interfering with an archaeological dig alongside the River Thames. One of the stipulations of your bail was that you do not go near any protected sites in the United Kingdom, and the sand dunes, thanks to the rare flowers which flourish within them, are a protected site.” He smiled at Graham. “I’m giving you a choice. You can either disappear tonight, and never come back. Or I can arrest you for breach of bail, and hand you over to the Metropolitan Police. You’ll be in jail by the weekend if you choose the second option.”
Graham stared at the big policeman, his face etched with anger. He opened and closed his hands a few times, took a steadying breath, and stood up. “Very well,” he said. “We shall leave immediately.”
“Just like that?” said Millie. “Without an argument?”
Graham sighed. “How can I argue? The sergeant is right. He can arrest me if he wants to. I’m in breach of my bail, and I do not wish to go to jail. I have important things to do. Important work to finish, and being incarcerated will not help me complete that work. One must choose his battles wisely, and this is a battle I cannot win. If you’d all be so kind as to step out of my campervan, Peter and I will be on our way. We shall not trouble you again.”
Sergeant Spencer nodded. “You chose wisely,” he said, pushing the narrow door open. “Come on, girls. We’ll wave them off.”
As the three of them stepped outside and Graham pulled the campervan door closed, displaying a forced smile, Judith looked at her Father, his face illuminated by the full moon. “Do you think that’s the last we’ll see of them?” she asked.
“I think so,” said Sergeant Spencer, raising his voice as the campervan’s engine rattled into life, forcing a plume of exhaust fumes into the night sky. “And even if it’s not, those bones will be dust soon enough. There will be nothing here for them to see, and any photos they took will be worthless without physical evidence to back them up. Especially photos taken by a man with Graham’s reputation.”
As the van trundled along the track, it’s rear lights becoming dimmer by the second, Millie smiled at Sergeant Spencer. “What now?” she asked. “The alien hunters may no longer be a concern, but somebody, or something, needs to be punished for killing Tom Temples.”
“We wait,” said Sergeant Spencer. “We wait until Henry catches up with the demon, and then we wait to find out if it was the demon that killed Tom. My money is on it being the demon. The fingerprints on the shovel don’t match any of those idiot detectorists I met at the hospital, and we have no other leads. I’ll wager that when the demon is found, and forced from the human it’s possessing, that the fingerprints of that unfortunate soul will match the ones on the murder weapon.”
“Wow, imagine that,” said Judith. “Discovering not only that you’ve been possessed by a demon, but that you murdered a man while you were under its control.”
‘That’s not something I’d like to imagine,” said Sergeant Spencer. “I’m sure it would devastate the person who’d been possessed. I doubt they’d ever be the same again. Until the possessed person is caught, though, we have to stay alert. The demon may still come back here, searching for its partner.” He smiled at Millie. “And I’m not sure I trust Graham Spalding completely. He might return. I’d like to stay here tonight. If that’s okay? I’ll sleep in my car, of course. With one eye and one ear open, naturally.”
Millie stared out over the sand dunes, wondering if a human possessed by an evil entity lurked in the shadows. She smiled at the sergeant. “Of course you can stay here, but not in your car. You can have the sofa, and Judith can have the spare bedroom. You’ll be able to hear any sound through the roof window, and Reuben has great hearing, too. If anything does happen, he’ll hear it first. I’m sure nothing will happen, though. I’m sure we’ll have a peaceful night.”
