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Episode 47

The first knock on the door had received no response.  The second attempt had failed to achieve a better result.  The third, and much louder knock, had resulted in the sound of high heels reverberating loudly on the highly polished West Indian mahogany floorboards.   As they turned their head in the direction of the oncoming sound, a short, petite, woman in her fifties rounded the corner.  “I am afraid he’s out at the moment.” She smiled politely as she passed the facts to their already fractious minds, “He should be back in a couple of hours.   Would you like for me to leave a message for him to call you when he returns?”

********

They had agreed to the woman’s suggestions and found they had two choices to while away the hours, instantly deciding against returning to the room where the trunks awaited a more thorough inspection, and were now about to enjoy their first drink when Joseph proposed a toast.

“Here’s to success … and honesty amongst friends.”   He proposed as he raised his glass.

Mary and Martin raised their glasses and returned the salute, though for Mary, Joseph’s choice of words was beginning to make her feel apprehensive about where this conversation was heading.  But she had no idea that Joseph was feeling exactly the same way as he attempted to manipulate the situation.  Joseph needed to know what Mary knew about the events that were taking place in Trenthamville that they didn’t, but he had to be careful not to have the tables turned on him and the precariously balanced reality of his own situation collapsing; he knew the complete revelation of the truth would relinquish his credibility with Martin, and that could ruin everything for all of them … and perhaps prove to create a dangerous situation for them all.

Joseph had changed both mentally and physically in the few short days since this adventure had commenced; he felt more alive than he could ever remember, and he felt certain that he could actually help solve this mystery of the missing statue, obtain the antidote … and prevent the repercussions that the conclusions to the task seemed to indicate would take place.  But he would have to make certain that he kept both Martin and Mary on side, and not get into a situation where either one asked the wrong questions about his involvement with the other.  Every skill that he had developed in diplomacy and tact in his time at Johnson’s Import and Export would be required.  He decided that he could take the risk and be up front with most of the details to gain reciprocal information from Mary … he just had to phrase his wording in the right way.

“Mary, our main aim is to locate a statue and a knife that has been brought into the country, perhaps illegally, and hand them over to a gang of supposed cut-throats that call themselves the Punjani in exchange for a cure for Rosetta’s father, and now, also for Rosetta, as both of them are currently comatose.  Who placed them in this position, you ask … I have no idea.  Nor do I particularly care.   They are not my main concern at the moment; finding the statue is. Though, after what happened last night, perhaps I shouldn’t be so flippant about them.

Anyway, I realise that this all seems like its something extracted from a boy’s own adventure story, but I can assure you that it is all true.  However, I cannot prove any of this to you at the moment because we are still learning more and more about what we have got ourselves caught up in.  I can only explain what you are getting yourself into if you decide to join forces with us.”

“Are you asking me to?”  Mary asked, her voice cracking with the dryness that was quickly forming over her larynx as she tried her hardest to restrain herself from yelling out loudly in glee at his offer.

“I intend to, Mary, but I would like you hear me out fully before you agree to anything.”

“I am all ears, Joseph.  Please go ahead.”  Mary said with a gigantic smile bursting out on her face.

Joseph gave Mary a short responsive smile, but almost immediately the smile subsided and a look of total seriousness returned to his face as he began to sell his story as carefully as he could.

“The reason that I am here in Trenthamville is simply to help Martin and Rosetta find the missing statue that Rosetta’s father seems to have hidden somewhere close by to the farm.  The statue was discovered somewhere overseas and brought here to England in order to find a suitable home at a museum where it could be safely housed and studied.

The statue, apparently, was a special; unique, find.  A find of something so valuable it seems almost incomprehensible to believe that nobody seemed to know it existed before it was discovered.  Yet it was certainly not known to the general history and archaeological specialists according to the professor’s notes, and I very much doubt the general public is any better informed on this blast from the past.  More details of its background were only in the early process of being uncovered by Rosetta’s father when he was attacked and placed in a coma.  We don’t know why he was attacked, nor by whom.  At first the Punjani were suspected of being the culprits as they had the antidote, but it didn’t make sense.  They would have been more likely to have given him a truth drug, or simply tortured him.  But to prevent his ability to communicate before they had located the statue was irrational.  It was the doctor treating him that had realised that a particular drug had been injected into his system … an extremely rare drug according to the doctor; a drug not expected to be found in this country.  Martin had been a friend of the family for years and offered to see what he could find out about the drug and its users and eventually made contact with somebody who could arrange for an antidote.  But it would come at a cost.   The contact had said that a secret sect residing in London, the Punjani, had an antidote, but they wanted the statue in return.  How they knew about the statue being in the professor’s possession is still a mystery to us.  Or at least it was until we heard Vittorio’s story where he suggested they had been set up by the Punjani in order to get the statue out of the country to somewhere safe where they could retrieve it, but something had gone wrong at this end when the professor was attacked.   An agreement was made with the Punjani for the antidote, and Martin and Rosetta made arrangements to come down here to see if they could find it.  But Martin wanted a second pair of eyes to help search for the statue.   When Rosetta made him aware of the value of the statue he presumed that her father would have taken extreme cautions to safeguard it, which could have included camouflaging it, or moving it to a new location.   Martin thought he could do with an extra pair of eyes to search for the unobvious should that seem necessary, and someone to help him interview the locals should it be deemed necessary, so he and Rosetta asked me if I could help, and I agreed.  However, since we have arrived in the village, all of these other events that we have encountered, and the stories that we have been told, cast a new light on things.   What started off as a fairly simple search for a statue is turning into something that is usually the backdrop of supernatural movies.  Witches, gremlins and flying monsters seem to be running amok in the village and it is getting harder and harder to determine what is factual; and what is simply hysterics.

Now I don’t want to over exaggerate anything in any way, because whatever is going on, I feel certain can be explained in a more realistic manner if we have all the facts, rather than all the questions that we have at the moment.   But something out of the ordinary is going on and we have wandered into dangerous territory.   Whether we are ‘preordained’ participants, or simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, is a matter for the history books.  But we are involved in it.

And, like it or lump it, Martin and I have to find a way of obtaining the statue without putting ourselves in too much danger.   At this stage Rosetta and her father’s future lives are in our hands.   We have no idea what we are really up against, but we are finding and more about it the longer we stay in the village and we hope that we will find out more from Mister Jones when he returns.  In the meantime, Martin and I need to know everything that you do so we can perhaps come up with a plan to not only locate the statue, but safely deliver it to the Punjani.  If there is some kind of underworld contest involved in getting the statue, we need to know so we can make certain that we obtain the antidote and let the bad guys sort themselves out.”

“I understand the value of what I know, because I can now understand a lot more about it than I did when it was first told to me, but why William Jones … what does he offer?”   Mary asked.

“I have no idea, but not only did your friend Harvey recommend him for information, but so does Martin here after the two met last night.   I was rather sceptical of what Martin was telling me that William had told him, and I dismissed most of it.  But now, after this morning’s events … I don’t know.   Just now, however, what we would like to know is what other information you have come across, so we have a consolidated understanding of what we seem to be up against, before we talk to Mister Jones.”

Mary felt relief at the level of the question asked.   For some reason she had felt that she would be asked more detailed questions regarding her purchasing the farm, and what she was really doing in Trenthamville.   But considering what had happened and been said today, and the events of the previous day, Mary realised that she was involved in something that, nasty and creepy as it was, it still deserved recognition of its existence in one form or another – and she saw no harm in sharing her knowledge with them, including the occasion with the thing in the photograph.  And secretly she was pleased with the outcome because it gave her a chance of becoming closer to Joseph now that Rosetta was conveniently indisposed … and off the scene for quite some time to come.

“So where would you like me to start, Joseph?” Mary asked excitedly, ready to rock Joseph’s socks off with the information she had garnished over the past two days.

“You can start wherever you like, Mary.” Joseph replied as he relaxed in his seat and sipped on his drink, and two more glasses and one coffee were to be slowly sipped and consumed before Mary was to finish.

********

And when she did finally finish, Joseph was uncertain if it was the drinks, or the information she had provided, that was making his head swim.

“That photograph.” Joseph remarked, after Mary had finished telling what she knew, “I saw something in it too.  Only I also saw people, including one I now recognise to be Vittorio, running from the farmhouse.  He ran into the darkness, while the others ran into the light.  It was just like he told us happened.  It was like watching some kind of time delayed television hologram or VR broadcast. It was most unusual and I haven’t got the foggiest what caused me to see it.   I eventually turned my head away for a second and it was all different again when I returned my gaze.   Then it must have been group hysteria because both Martin and I both suddenly saw a creature emerging from the picture and it began chasing both of us as we ran through the door.   But you, you really have had some weekend so far haven’t you?”  The tone in Joseph’s voice betrayed his admiration for her, and the courage she displayed.  Mary smiled a rather embarrassed smile in return.

“This creature that cut you – did it also touch you?  I mean, was it a physical thing that was happening or more like an image projection?”

“I don’t know.  I am not sure.”  Mary replied, “But I could feel its presence … and that felt as real as the knife.”

“I am sure that I would have taken off a long time ago if it had happened to me,” Martin commented dryly.

“I am sure that you wouldn’t have, Martin. I am sure that you are as heroic as any man.”  Mary said encouragingly.

“Thank you.  But you must admit that it’s not an everyday occurrence that you have been through.”

“What do you think that we have got ourselves into?”  Mary asked sombrely, “Do you think that we do have some sinister event happening around us?

“It’s certainly something far darker and sinister than I had ever imagined I would have been involved in forty-eight hours ago.”  Martin conceded; his voice equally sombre. “There really are some strange things going on in this village, and it seems that they have been for some time.”

“And it seems to attract strange people.  It is also a very bizarre co-incidence that this Doctor James had dealings with both the Punjaniti and the Punjani, and then he suddenly turns up here in the village where the professor had brought the artefacts that the Punjani wants so badly.” Joseph noted somewhat sceptically.

“I am sure that it is only co-incidence, Joseph.” Mary cut in defensively.  She had a liking for Doctor James after hearing his story, despite her initial doubts, and she didn’t want to see him cast in a dark light.

“Perhaps it is only a co-incidence, or perhaps it a game of chess being played by greater powers than we can imagine,” Martin offered.   ‘Perhaps the good doctor is now worried that the creature is coming to get him for leaving the Punjani.

“That’s a lot of perhapses.”  Joseph commented with a wry laugh, “Perhaps, after what happened to Rosetta, we should be more careful of what we are doing, and who we deal with.  I want to help Rosetta and her father, but I certainly don’t want to die in the effort … and at the moment that seems to be an extreme possibility.”

“Do we actually have a plan?”  Mary asked hopefully.

“Unfortunately, guesses are all that we have for the moment.   Hopefully, Mister Jones will be able to put some light on what is going on and we can plan our next move a bit more safely.  There has been a bit of real life skulduggery involved in whatever is happening here in Trenthamville, along with a fair bit of the unexplained.   I don’t want to go down the ‘return of the devil’ path, or expect ‘raiders from space’ to really exist, but I will keep an open mind.  There have been many unexplained events that have taken place in this world over the many years man has existed here; anything is possible … and we may yet have to accept the seemingly impossible.  Mary, because things are the way they are at the moment it might be safer if you keep away from us until this whole thing is resolved.”

Joseph was both surprised and delighted to see the disappointed look that appeared on Mary’s face. “Oh.” was all she said in reply.

“But if you wish to take the risk and help us search for the statue, it would be very much appreciated by all of us.”  Joseph continued.

“Oh, yes please.”  Mary answered, almost before the words finished coming out of Joseph’s mouth.

The smile that threatened to split Mary’s face in two was the most pleasant thing that Joseph had seen since he had first agreed to accompany Rosetta to Trenthamville, and he reacted to it without thinking by reaching over and squeezing her nearest hand.  Mary was both surprised and pleased by his reaction and her other hand was quickly placed over the hand that held hers, and squeezed it tightly for a second, then their hands departed each other’s company as quickly as they had joined.

“Well then, welcome to our nightmare.   By the way, I will be going up to the hospital to check on Vittorio after we have seen Jones, if any one wishes to come with me.”

“I will come with you, Joseph.” Mary gushed, almost tripping over her tongue in her hasty attempt to respond.

“That will be nice, Mary.  What about you, Martin?”

“No.  I might give it a miss if you don’t mind.  I think that I have had enough running around for one day; instead I think that I will get totally inebriated and sleep the sleep of the dead tonight.  The old body is not getting any younger and it needs a good rest, and talking about drinking – who needs a refill? … Both of you … Right you are,”

Martin, his body already half-risen out of the seat as he spoke, had answered himself and was already on his way to the bar before either Joseph, or Mary, had a chance to respond … and a second later he was in the process of placing his order, when William Jones walked up to where he was standing.

“These are on me, Martin.”  Martin was advised as William turned to the bartender.  “Jimmy, be a good lad and bring these drinks into the conference room will you please.”  Turning around, he placed his arm under Martin’s and headed him down towards where Joseph and Mary were sitting.  “I believe you have been waiting for me, so let’s go where we can have some privacy away from prying eyes.” He announced as they looked up in surprise at this sudden intrusion, uncertain what to make of this thin, pale, bespectacled middle-aged man that stood in front of them.  But he was not about to give them that chance, for, with his arm still under Martin’s, William took off down the hall towards the lobby at a fast gait.  Joseph and Mary had difficulty getting out of the large, comfortable, lounge chairs fast enough for them to see where the other two had gone.  By the time they arrived in the lobby, the manager was standing in front of a large open oak door beckoning them with a finger extended from a rolled fist.

“Come on in, you two,” he motioned with a smile and a happy tone to his voice.

Inside, the room made an immediate impression on them with its dark cedar tongue and groove wall, and beamed ceiling.  Hanging on the wall opposite the entrance, above a large ornate fireplace, a huge painting of a foxhunt in full flight proudly exposed its grandeur to the entire room.  Three huge leather lounges and a dozen single chairs, also leather covered, were scattered around the wide room, as were half a dozen coffee tables, some with glass tops, while others were solid polished timber.  A large sideboard cabinet, sprinkled with various bottles of expensive liquors, occupied half the length of one wall.  There was a small bar some distance from the fireplace, and a middle-sized billiard table stood about four feet out from the third wall.

“Please make yourselves comfortable.”  A gushing William offered as he waved his hand at the chairs, “I call this the conference room because it pleases the bank manager.  In reality I use it mainly for my own relaxation and entertaining friends.  Occasionally some city folks book it when they have one of those bonding weekends, but normally it’s just me.  Big city people and bank managers seem to be impressed when you say that you have a conference room.

When things get a bit quiet around here, and you need an extension on your loan, the banks are a bit hesitant – it’s only a country hotel they say.  But then you remind them that it’s got a conference room and it becomes a new ball game.  Bend over backwards to accommodate you, they do … funny isn’t it?  Anyway, I assume that you want to talk about the farm, don’t you?  Want to know about what it was that you saw at the garage today, and who shot the professor’s brother.”

Joseph, Mary and Martin looked at him in amazement.

“Oh it’s not quite as impressive as it appears.”  William said with a huge grin,  “Both the Inspector and his constable dropped in for a lunchtime meal, and Harvey dropped in later for a quiet drink and to let me know that you would possibly come by for a talk.  So how do you think that I can be of assistance to you?”

Joseph felt a little disappointed at William’s down-to-earth explanation; he had been expecting some sort of paranormal explanation to be forthcoming.

“Harvey indicated that you may be able to guide us on our quest, and Martin here seems to think that you are some kind of medium.”  Joseph replied.

“Well so far I agree with your thoughts.  Please go on.”

“You mean that you are a medium?” Joseph asked in surprise.

“Not exactly … what I am about to tell you is confidential – not to be repeated to anybody – please understand that point clearly – tell nobody.   Even if you think they have a right to know … they don’t!”

“Then why did you confide in Martin last night?”

“That is because you three need to know of my existence.  It has been ordained.  But nobody else must know.  And most importantly, those that have already been privileged to share my secrets over the years must not know that you are aware of my powers.  Not at this point in time, at least.

“Does that include Laurie?”  Joseph asked, his question throwing everybody in the room off balance.

William looked hard at Joseph, looked deep into his eyes and soul, but he said nothing.

A pause covered the room for several seconds before William spoke again, but when he did finally begin to talk again, an excited grin covered his face.

“Not the next time that you run into him, Joseph, but eventually.  You will know when the time is right, Joseph.  So do you all agree to my request of a vow of silence?”

William looked at the assembled trio in his office and took their nods as acceptance of his statement.  “I am a guardian.  Or to put it in retrospect, I am a guardian’s interpreter.  But a medium is just as good a way as putting it for the moment.  I receive messages and instructions that affect the safety of the village from time to time and take whatever action is necessary.   Please continue with your questions.”

“So you don’t do readings and talk to dead people.  You communicate with a living entity.   Is that correct?”

“Yes.”  William replied.

“And this entity is not of this world?”

William’s face grew a shade ashen as he answered.   “Yes, that is right.”

“And his name is Arkerious?”

This time William was at a loss at what to do.   These were not the questions that he had been expecting.  “Am I being tested?”   He finally asked in despair.

Joseph realised his questions were throwing his host out of sync and decided to refrain from asking anymore questions and listen to what William told them, hoping that he would find the answer to questions that were currently haunting him somewhere amongst the story.

Joseph paused for a second or two, deep in thought.  “William.  May I call you William?”

“Please do.”

“No. you are not being tested.  I am sorry if my questions offend you in any way.  I only asked because last night I had a strange dream which I forgot almost immediately once I woke up.  However, now, being here and hearing what you have already said, it feels like déjà vu.   Bits and pieces of the dream are flashing through my mind as we speak, and the questions that I asked are thoughts that my brain seem to recognise, but I cannot force the complete dream back into my mind.   I only have the fragments that jump in and out.   I apologise for my disruption and I will attempt to restrain any new thought that may erupt in my head while you are speaking … unless I see it as a national emergency, so as to speak.

“Was it me that you saw in this dream?

“No.   It was a tall man of slim build, but I never saw his face.   He wore a black cloak and hood.  All I could see was a glimpse of his jaw, and even that was fairly nondescript.

“I see.  Well that explains a lot.   Please it would be better if you ask your questions, and we’ll see if I can provide you with the answers you seek.”  A slight twinkle seemed to glow in William’s eyes: his face and mannerisms seemed to evoke an inner excitement as he spoke.

“I am sorry.   It explains a lot about what, exactly?”

“I will explain shortly, but first relate to me the purpose of your visit and we will see what needs further explanation once I have given you the answers to your questions.”

The meeting was not going exactly the way Joseph had expected it to.  Joseph had expected William to expose a huge secret; something meaty, juicy and tangible; a warning perhaps?  He had expected this from the build up to the meeting both Martin and Harvey had injected into their advice that Joseph should speak with William.  But, instead of being given valuable information regarding his quest, he, himself, was seemingly to be the one that provided the questions on a subject he barely understood.  He was here to receive advice, not perform an inquisition.  However, Joseph decided, whatever William may have been holding back, he had not tried to ignore Joseph’s last question; he had just simply delayed answering it.  And with that thought in his mind Joseph decided to reverse the situation – bringing it back to his reasons for being in the room; he wanted answers … not games.

“William, we came to this village to visit the farm where our friend Rosetta’s father had been staying to try to recover some goods that he had hidden so that we could exchange it for some special medicine that we hoped would help him recover from his illness.”

Joseph’s voice was cool: rational; his words spoken slow and calculated.  “What we thought would be a relatively simple ‘search and locate’, turned out to be just the opposite.  We have been overwhelmed with stories about cults and witches; we have witnessed strange happenings; two of us have been physically attacked, Rosetta copping the worst of it, the three of us witnessed an attempted murder, and both Mary and I have been subject to mind games that have been inflicted on us by god knows who … and we are getting very tired of it.  There are lives at stake here and we need to do something about it … and do it quickly.

This is not my daily routine – far from it in fact, and I would be very happy to go back to the normality of my life.  But I can’t do that without first finding what it is that we are seeking, and to do this I find the path fraught with danger.

Nevertheless, despite the apparent danger to our lives, Martin and I, with some help from Mary, intend to find the missing item and exchange it for the antidote … then get the hell out of this weird little village as fast as we can, regardless of where the statue ends up.

But of course it won’t be that easy, will it, William?  There is something abnormal going on in this village and until today we took most of it with a grain of salt and a shot of humour.  Things such as a fire that won’t go out after nearly two weeks of burning inside a house where strange demonic paraphernalia and supernatural art is spread throughout, and a continuous flow of tales involving unexplained happenings from the past to the present being fed to us.  What we have heard and seen since we arrived in the village, we have found hard to accept.   All sorts of ghosts and goblins were offered to us on a plate.   Everybody seemed to have a story totally unbelievable to tell, and were all willing to share it with us without hesitation or solicitation, which made the possibility of the stories being coated in truth rather unlikely.  However the story we gleaned from the professor’s diary, combined with the words that poured out of the obviously deteriorating mind of his brother, seemed to offer a slight possibility that truth may have been what the villagers had been offering.

Now none of this was helping us locate the object of our desire, but it did lead us to begin to understand that there may be several parties interested in our efforts.  But putting Rosetta in a coma and shooting her uncle in the chest seemed a step too far for us, regardless of who was behind the two incidents.  There has been absolutely nothing in our findings to date to warrant such attacks against Rosetta and her family.

And the final condemnation of this farce is poor Mary here, who has been the subject of a hallucinatory nightmare, quite possibly induced into her subconscious via coffee supplied by the village mechanic.  A woman with far less strength would most likely have found themselves in a mental institution by now after what she has been put through.

However, as ludicrous as things may be, we have to put all of these distractions out of our minds for the moment.  We are running out of time to complete our mission, and we are finding ourselves perplexed at every turn.  Then suddenly our luck seemed to have turned a corner.  Acting on advice from a trusted friend, we arranged a meeting with a special guide who, it has been suggested, can, theoretically, help us in our attempts to travel in the safest and smartest direction to complete our task, and for a moment we were awe struck at the thought that our search is coming to an end.  But when we find this marvellous guide, this incredible mystic soothsayer … he turns out to be not a prophet with a scroll from the heavens, or a diagram of the farm at his side.  Nor is he a man with a ready answer to overcome our despair …no, he is a ‘guardian interpreter’ for an interplanetary creature from Mars or Galifray … or somewhere equally as factitious.  Pray tell, William… what in hell is a ‘guardian interpreter when it’s at home.

Joseph’s tone clearly indicated his frustration at the circles that they seemed to be travelling in.  He needed some straight answers, not answers to questions that he had no idea how to muster up from nowhere.  Indeed he doubted his chances of obtaining anything to be of any benefit from this seemingly time wasting charade they were currently attending … and William’s answer reinforced his expectations.

“A guardian interpreter is one that communicates with those in another world on behalf of their own planet’s safety.”

“You mean like ghosts?” Joseph sneered, his mood quickly changing as his instincts told him that this was as much a waste of time as the search of the barn had been, even after they had finally found the light switch.

“Not exactly, “William smiled, ignoring Joseph’s mockery, “there is a world that exists between the wonders of the heavens and planet Earth.  It is called Garogia.  Those that live in it are neither dead, nor alive; not in the way that we know life and death.  Existence for them in their world is completely different to ours.  And before you ask, no, they are not space zombies.  While we go about our daily routine, oblivious to good and evil in its purest form, the guardians job, twenty four seven, is to watch out for imminent danger and protect us all from it.  And this protection applies to several other selected planets throughout the universe. We are all protected from the things from the dark side that try to enter these worlds.   It is my duty to liaise with them to do whatever is necessary to stop the dark side from entering my assigned area.”

“Do you mean that there are thousands, and thousands, of people like you all around the world?”

“No, there would only be a few of us stationed at the gateways.”

“Gateways?”

“Portals to a planet: a doorway from space or dimensions.  I said earlier that the would-be invaders cannot simply arrive on certain planets such as Earth and take over the planet.  The guardians have the power to prevent them from doing that, but not to destroy them, at least not by themselves. It is much, much more complex that what I am about to say, but think of it like they could simply wave a hand and cast a spell that would totally prevent the evil invader from ever gaining entry through the portal.  Now, in a manner of speaking, that is precisely what they do.  However, there are several secret ways of manipulating the spell.  And should the creature somehow come across the secret they can use their ability to make physical and verbal contact with intelligent inhabitants of the planet and offer them rewards in return for their help.  Once the entities have connected with the self-serving traitors they have the ability to use a limited version of the power they possess to rid themselves of any obstacles that would be in their way once they eventually arrive in the world.  But their power is limited at this point and once again requires the assistance of the self-serving traitors to use that power.  But once they are physically able to enter into the world they want to invade, their power very quickly becomes almost unlimited… and often considered unstoppable.  Though, having said that, I am reminded that eventually all invaders were either finally destroyed or repulsed, but with much bloodshed and unnecessary loss of life before that took place.  There are only a couple of places here on Earth where evil can enter into this world with the help of the traitors – and Trenthamville is one of them.

In the world of Garogia there are watchers who have been assigned the eternal task of protecting the selected planets from invaders from the dark worlds.  They are known collectively as the Garogian Guardians in one language or another.  Most times they are successful; sometimes they are not.  God knows we have had enough wars and dictators over the eons to prove that.  When the Garogians are successful it is usually due to the help and cooperation of the guardian interpreters, like myself… though I doubt very much that I personally have been involved in anything too incredulous to date.  But that is all about to change, or so I believe.

However, the reason for the guardians using interpreters is that there is often a need to cast a spell using a certain kind of magic, or there is a need to become physically involved in the destruction of the invader, and they both must always be done from our side of the boundary … .not from theirs.

“Do you mean magic like in Harry Potter’s world?”  Mary asked enthusiastically and the thoughts of wands, brooms, dragons and Dementors.

“No, not really, the guardian transmits instructions to me as to what has to be done in the form of an energy burst and I retransmit it.   For me using the guardian’s magic is relatively simple.  All I have to do is channel the energy that I receive through a motivated source.  That is somebody that has the ability to use their inbuilt energy in a variety of ways, but has no idea just how strong their power is.  That way the identity of the guardian interpreter is never revealed, and nor is the source of the transmitter. .  I often use Laurie Wellington as my transmitter.  But, of course, he has no idea that is what I am doing, and it works much better that way.   If something ever happened to one of us, the other could still operate independently without the aggressor being aware of their existence. There are occasions when we are up against a nemesis who has telepathic powers, and this way they cannot trace the source to the Laurie, because he is unaware that his mind is being used, and there is no reason to suspect me because I am directing the power directly to Laurie, not the unwilling participant who eventually receives the power burst.

“I was under the impression that Laurie was a white witch and considered himself responsible for his own powers.”  Mary objected.

“And that is the way that the guardian and I prefer it.  It is much easier to channel the power through someone who believes in his or her own abilities, rather than through someone that doesn’t.  Laurie comes from a long line of believers who were granted their powers many eons ago.   Laurie is what is referred to as a white witch; someone who can perform a variety of minimal magic, but whose sole purpose in the chain of things, is to act as a front in order to protect the identity, and existence, of a guardian interpreter.   They are rarely, if ever, advised of this spiritual relationship, and in this instance that is the case.  Laurie knows he gets some help at times, but has no idea where it comes from.”

“And how do you know when to use your power and override Laurie?”  A sceptical tone rang from Mary’s lips, for she had earlier decided to believe in Laurie whose stories and claims she had taken to like a duck to water.

“I can well believe your distrust in what I say, Mary, as I can understand your incredulity regarding all that has befallen you over the preceding forty-eight hours.  You have a right to be sceptical.  It probably seems incredible to you … to hear me tell you in one breath that I must remain an anonymous secret from the world … then turn around and tell you everything that I know about what is currently affecting your lives!

There is a reason for everything that happens, and there is a reason for my telling you what I am.  The things that happened to the three of you have happened, and they have happened for one reason… and that reason is direction.  One of you has a gift that you are not yet fully aware of, though you may be slowly becoming aware of it, while the others are there are to become specialist soldiers in a most unusual war.  This gift that is coming to one of you is going to be very important in defeating this terrible power that is trying to enter this world.

For reasons that are completely unknown to me at this point in time, the three of you, as well as some others who are as yet unaware of their involvement in things that are happening at the moment, have been chosen by the Cabinet of the Garogians to contribute to the safety of this world.  In due course it will become more and more necessary for me to pass on communication from the Garogians to you as they advise me.  Much the same as I did with the photograph in the garage.”

“You were responsible for the knife attacks on Mary and me?” Joseph asked, as much in awe of William’s knowledge of events, as in fear for his own safety if William was responsible for what had happened to the pair of them.  And while Joseph pondered on this unexpected information, Mary went straight into shock at William’s statement because it hit her immediately … if William knew about the attack, then that meant that it had really taken place … all of it.  She had not been drugged; she had been attacked … and for just a second she felt the horror that she had felt earlier roll over her once again.  But, the fear subsided almost immediately as she felt Joseph’s closest hand squeezing hers – and a feeling of complete safety suddenly rolled through her entire body.  Her face lit up in a grateful smile and she looked up to mouth a thank you to him, however, she got a shock when she realised he wasn’t even looking at her.  It was as if he had eyes in the back of his head.  She shook her head and squeezed his hand instead.  Joseph squeezed her hand once more – then released it, never once taking his gaze and attention from William … and Mary had no idea what to make of the preceding event.

“No!  No!”  William cried defensively.  “I merely transmitted the image of the photo as it had appeared to me in the garage where it had been housed.  I was told to.  There was no malice involved.  I am unaware that it displayed motion.  It certainly didn’t have that capability as I remember it.  I am completely unaware of any thing else happening other than what I transmitted … a single photo of Forster’s Farm taken on the night of the long light.  I never transmitted the image to Mary, just Joseph.”

“Then what was the thing that attacked me and cut me?” Mary demanded.

“I’m sorry, Mary.  I was not aware that you also had a vision created through that photo in the garage, nor was I aware that you were attacked.  In fact I did not know that you had seen the photo.   I have only been told about Joseph and Martin’s encounter this morning.”

“Well, so much for your Garogians.  Where were they when I needed them?” Mary retorted smugly, “I am sorry, Joseph, but William has convinced me that I wasn’t drugged – I was attacked.

William’s face showed no sign of anger as he spoke, his reply was softly spoken, confident in its tone, showing no hint of retaliation to Mary’s barbs.

“I don’t need to be told everything that happens in the village.  I’m not the village gossip, Mary, just its contact with the guardian.  If the guardians wish to make contact with somebody else that is their provocative, as they seem to have done with Joseph through his dreams.  Why you were also attacked, I have no idea.  There are other forces at work here in the village at the moment, as Joseph has correctly pointed out, and they may have had something to do with whatever happened to you.  Though there is one thing to be considered – you say that the guardians weren’t there to protect you when you were being attacked, but were you alone at the time, or was someone else around to help you?”

Mary felt her balloon slightly deflating as she admitted to Frank’s presence at the garage, and his saving her at the last moment.  ‘And then there had been the creature chasing her through the reeds with Joseph coming to the rescue.’ she reminded herself.  For a brief second her mind flashed an endless array of images relating to her attempting to outrun the creature as it chased her through the huge reeds just before she arrived at the farm.  She was most unwilling to tell that part of the story to William; she had not even mentioned the event to Joseph and Martin during the de-briefing she had given them before coming here to the conference room.  By-passing it entirely when she opened up about the events that had taken place in the garage and all the things she had been told by the locals, before quickly moving forward to her arrival at the farm and her first encounter with Vittorio.  Mary was uncertain why she had not wanted to talk about it, though part of her wondered if she was a bit embarrassed to mention Joseph’s role in what had taken place.  But now, considering the way that this was all heading, she felt that perhaps tonight, as they walked to the hospital, she could bring the matter up with Joseph.  Then a sudden question arose in Mary’s mind as to why she was actually accepting any of the fantasy that had begun to surround her mind the minute she entered the Trenthamville village limits.  If it had not been for the reality of the fear that had overtaken her both at the garage, and then on the way to the farm, Mary would have thought that she had somehow devoured magic mushrooms or died and been reincarnated as Dorothy from Kansas for most of the two days.  But she had been scared witless several times in the past twenty four hours, so something was going on in this village that was out of the ordinary … and she knew that it was the fear of the unknown and unexplained that was keeping her on edge.  And now it seemed that William was not going go spill the beans on what the future held as Harvey had seemed to expect him to do.  So, yes, maybe she had better confide in Joseph and tell him what else had happened to her yesterday.

Mary had accepted Laurie’s incredible stories as truth much to her own surprise right up to this very second, but now she suddenly found herself questioning her naïve acceptance of everything she had heard with the exception of Joseph’s warning about her joining them to locate the statue.   Joseph was right; things were now moving into sci-fi territory, with so many different people, including Peter James, and now this man that sat facing her… all, supposedly, being gifted with such strange and bewitching lives that it was almost common place in the village.  It was all becoming too much for her and she wasn’t too sure that she wanted to hear anymore about horrible monsters and witches at the moment and was on the point of excusing herself and going out to her car and having a chat with Gizmo as once again she wondered what it was Johann .P. Biggs had got her into.

However, William was not going to let her off that easily. “Mary would you mind very much telling me exactly what it was that happened to you at the garage, in the clearest detail that you possibly can?”

Despite her reservations, Mary responded with an incredibly accurate recount of the previous day’s events, including what Frank said that he had witnessed, but she failed to mention what Frank had told her about his own adventures all those years ago, and again failed to mention the incident in the reeds. That was for Joseph’s ears only.  By the time that Mary had finished, William’s face was ashen in colour.

“Please, Joseph, tell me about the knife that you saw in the photograph.”   He asked so softly it was as if he didn’t want to know the answer.

Joseph told him what had happened, how the knife was slicing through the air as he and Martin ran out of the garage.

“Oh, my sweet lord, this is far worse than I thought.  This creature is running interference on my channels.  Even worse, it must be getting close to entering into our zone and it is using my channels to expedite things.  Oh this is truly, truly terrible.  I will have to advise Arkerious immediately.  It is a threat to our safety, and there is nothing that I can do about it until I receive my instructions.  Joseph, I should imagine that the first part of the projection was what you were meant to see for yourself.  To verify the story that Vittorio would relay to you.  To help you began to truly believe that the creature is really coming.  But the rest … I have no idea, and it doesn’t sound too promising.”

“Can you tell us how you receive these instructions William, or is that a trade secret?”  Joseph asked.

“Yes, I can tell how the projection was done.  I have seen the photograph in the garage.  Everybody in the village has seen it because they were still interested in the strange light most of them had witnessed on the night of the long light as some call it.  But I saw it purposely to memorise it in response to a request by Arkerious.  This morning I learnt the reason for the request.  At exactly the same moment you went into the garage I began to concentrate on the photograph.  Eventually a vision of the inside of the garage began to replace the photo in my mind.  It was at this point that you picked up on the energy that was emitting from my brain through the photograph into the room.  In my mind I could see you approach the photo, but I had no idea what you were seeing.  My mind was using all of its power to keep the channel open, and I assume Arkerious controlled whatever it was that you saw.  I really don’t know.  Anyway, I kept the channel open as long as I could, but eventually it drew too much energy from me and I was forced to stop.  That was the only contact I had with the photo, and until just now I had no idea what happened at the garage.”

“How were you able to project something like that?  I have heard of the possibility of mind control, but I have never found proof that anybody has mastered it.”

“I had a good teacher.  His name is Arkerious.”

“The guardian taught you?”

“Taught me, and performed a few tweaks on my brain to take the power up a notch or two.”

“That’s cool.  Do you do party tricks?  Joseph was totally taken with the concept of the human mind doing so many things that seemed both possible, and impossible, at the same time … and found himself slightly jealous of William’s powers.

William, however, appeared to have misread the intent of Joseph’s words.  “All in good time, Joseph … all in good time.”   William replied amicably as he abruptly rose from his chair and began moving towards the door.  Reaching his destination he reached out for the door handle and slowly began to open the door, repositioning his body so he faced the trio who were in the act of departing their own chairs, never once pausing in conversation as he continued with his actions.

“Your words still hints at scepticism, Joseph, however it is of no matter at the moment.  From what you two have told me tonight, I would expect the creature to attempt its entry sometime within the next forty-eight hours … mind you, I could be wrong, I am only working on instinct here.  But if I am right, Arkerious is cutting it fine to release the chosen one into the mix.  Though, I expect he knows what he is doing.  I will have to try and contact him now and make certain that he is aware of what you all have just told me so I will need to terminate this meeting for the time being.  In the meantime, please be ready, wary, and take heed of all that happens…we will talk again, soon, very soon, no doubt.  Good night to you all.”   And with that William completed the task of opening the door and disappeared through them.

********

Go to Episode 48

 

       

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EPISODE 46

Joseph,”  Mary began at the first chance she got to get a word in between the inane chatter that was occurring between the foursome situated several yards away from the ambulance which was parked in front of the open barn door, “are you feeling alright?   I had no idea the bullet had come so close to you.   It could have been you that was on their way to surgery.   Do you think that it was meant for you.   Oh, god, I hope not.   That would mean that you might still be in danger.   We all could be.   Why would somebody shoot Vittorio?   Surely he’s no threat to anybody in his current condition?”

“Mary.”  The tone in Joseph’s voice was at just the right pitch and volume to calm Mary down without causing offense or over reaction.  “Easy.   Just calm down a little.  It was just a graze.  The fact that it could have done the same damage to me as it did to Vittorio was probably just coincidental.   I was probably in the shooter’s line of fire … and lucky that his aim was true.

“Or very bad.” Mary replied in a softer, more controlled voice.  “Sorry, Joseph, I was just concerned for you.  Whoever it was took a great risk with no care if he didn’t really have a safe shot at Vittorio.   Whoever it was, he is a very dangerous man.”

“Yes, I know.  I appreciate that.”  Joseph’s voice was also soft, and comforting to her ears.  “I don’t know why anybody would want to shoot me anymore than why they wanted to shoot Vittorio.   I suppose we will know more when … ”

But before Joseph could finish his sentence the sound of a fast moving car approaching from the far side of the barn caught their attention, and as they turned to see who the stranger was, Joseph’s words were left hanging in the air … and quickly forgotten by all.

********

One of the paramedics had already attended to Joseph’s superficial wound, and he and his partner were in the final stage of loading Vittorio into the back of the ambulance by the time the police finally arrived at the farm.

“Park here.” The authoritative voice of Inspector O’Reilly commanded when the car rounded the corner of the barn still some distance away from the barn door where the small group and the ambulance awaited him, and the young constable immediately applied the brakes and turned off the engine.

“I want a bit of time to myself before I speak to them.”  The voice continued,  “You go ahead and speak to the paramedics.  You just need to find out the victim’s current condition.   Unless there are things that I need to know immediately; things such as he has already died, let them go.  Don’t hold them up unnecessarily.  I am of the understanding that he is still alive, so they will need to get him to hospital as fast as possible.   We can question him later when he is well enough to hold up to a conversation.  When you finish with the ambulance go into the barn and have a look around and see if you can work out where he was standing when he was shot and wait for me there.”

The young constable stared blankly at him for a second before summing up the courage to question his superior.  “I’m sorry, sir, but how will I know where to look?”

Inspector O’Reilly looked at the young man; at the earnest look on his confused face as he asked a question so absurd.   And then he looked at his face and his youth and remembered himself as a youth in the force on his first murder investigation … on the first day he commenced duty as a police officer.  And he remembered how that fateful day was the beginning of his despising the life of a policeman in the big city, and how wonderful the past ten years had been in this wonderful, safe, country village he had been assigned to guard and protect.   The worst thing that this young man had ever witnessed was the blood that had run freely from the gravel rash cuts to ten year old Jenny Jacobs’ leg when she came of her pushbike in the lane-way next door to the police station trying to avoid the cat who had run out in front of her.  But three plasters and a disposable hand washer put paid to her sobs and the constable’s squeamish stomach.  ‘It is so strange’, he thought, ‘For the first time in ten years I feel like I am back in the big city with all their big city crime … and who are the prime participants?  Why, its the big city crowd, of course.   The victim is an overseas visitor from Rome, the witnesses were from London and quite possibly, no make that probably, so was the assassin.

“I am sorry, Tommy.   I forgot your limited experience for a moment.   You are here to learn, as much as you are to carry out orders.  I assume that the barn is like most barns around here.   There will be a walkway in line with the front door with various pens, stalls, work stations or stored goods on either side.   It is assumed at this stage that the shooter would have fired the weapon from somewhere in line with the entrance so they had a quick getaway should they need it.  So it is most likely he shot straight ahead and the victim was somewhere in the walkway.   There should be fresh blood on the ground.   Do your best, but take your time to do it carefully.   You are more likely to find any mistakes the shooter may have made; things like footprints or dropped cartridges.   Much better if the search is done at a slow, considerate pace, and alone, before we have a pile of traffic running all over the place.

A huge smile of relief appeared on the young constable’s face.   “Thank you, sir.  What happens if he has died, sir?”

“Then … its a murder scene.  I will need their report as soon as possible, and I will need to ask them a few questions seeing as how they have moved the body from the crime scene.  The incoming call said that the shooting took place inside the barn; if its murder then we need confirmation that that was the case and visually sight the spot where he was standing when he was shot.   And we will need to do it in the company of the witnesses and the paramedics.  Now, off you go.

“Right, sir.”

While the inspector pushed back into his seat, momentarily closing his eyes, and doing his best to meditate, the young constable exited the vehicle, carefully placed his cap on his head, and headed off towards the ambulance at a brisk pace.  But realised almost immediately that he may not reach them in time as they had already finished loading the victim and were themselves getting back into the ambulance.  When he heard the vehicle start up he began running towards it, waving his hands in the air as he did so to try and catch their attention.  When the siren began to sound the constable increased his speed to a run that Usain Bolt would be proud of.  He caught the attention of the ambulance driver, the siren was turned off, the constable spoke to the paramedics, asking them the questions that he had been asked to ask … advising them to make haste to save the patient’s life upon their reply, the siren was turned back on, Joseph and his friends plugged their ears with their fingers as the ambulance disappeared around the corner of the barn, and the constable made his way into the barn … all within seventy seconds of his closing the front door of the police car as he set off to follow the inspector’s instructions.

********

Less than one fifteenth of a second prior to the ambulances’ departure from the farm, Inspector O’Reilly shook his head in dismay again as he got out of the car and slowly walked towards the barn door, his mind still shuddering at what might confront him when he got there; his mind locked in a world of savage imagination to the point where the passing siren was an unheard obstacle it easily ignored; ignorant to the point that he was unaware how close he had come to walking into its path.  The inspector was a suspicious man by nature, and the thought of strangers witnessing strangers being shot by other strangers was quickly disrupting the tranquillity that would flood over his mind on a more normal day in Trenthamville; disrupted it even more than the shooting itself.  Admittedly, Professor Tusacani and his brother were not complete strangers to the village, even if they did keep mainly to themselves, but their presence in the village still perplexed him.  The research on them that he had undertaken out of curiosity when he had first heard that they were arriving in the village for an indefinite stay had proved them to be beyond reproach – yet he still wondered why somebody of Professor Tusacani’s prestige wanted to come to such a quiet, out of the way little village for their research.  There were no Egyptian tombs or mummies to be found here in laid back rural Trenthamville.  No other expert in that field resided locally, or so he understood.   So the question ‘why here?” continued to run through his mind.

‘Though,’ he decided eventually, ‘it is rather peaceful out here on the farm and you would rarely get distractions or visitors if you were an outsider … and there is internet in the area, even if mobile drop out is inevitable.   But , of course, he goes to the O’Shaughnessy B’n’B when that happens …  so perhaps it was the right choice.’   He had only met them once, the day the professor and his brother had first arrived in the village, and he had seen nothing in either man that would indicate such violence should be taken against them, but a violent and possibly premeditated attack had taken place by the look of it … as it had against the victim’s brother a week or so earlier.

To Inspector O’Reilly’s way of thinking, Trenthamville had always been a quiet, peaceful village.  He had found it a pleasure working here, far removed from the big cities and their relentless twenty-four seven crime rate.  He had only a couple of years to go before his retirement was due and he was going to retire right here in Trenthamville.   Or at least he had been intending to do so until the weird epidemic of unexplained events had struck the village.   Inwardly, he wondered what was causing the unusual goings on here at Forster Farm, and even the village itself for that matter … and, as he traversed the thirty or forty steps to where the small group awaited him, his mind began to wander once again over the unexpected and unusual events that had been reported both to the station, and unofficially at social events, over the past fortnight.

‘First there was that strange light out here a week or so ago, and those weird embers that the firies couldn’t put out.  Well they must have been right about it; the house hasn’t burnt down.   Then there was the condition of the other resident of this farm that was found wandering around the countryside.  ‘Mind you’, he thought as he began to talk to himself inside his head, ‘the constable that had found Professor Tusacani had thought that he was a drunk, or a drug addict, when he found him.  Even now I am uncertain what to make of the hospital report on the man’s condition.   ‘Drug induced comatose indeed – self-inflicted more than likely’.  Who knows what goes on out here?   Perhaps the two incidents are connected?  Then there was the reported suspicious timing of all the villagers ‘coincidentally’ going missing when a football spectacular was taking place in London … reports of Boogiemen and witches out here doing God knows what, and now this … the first shooting in Trenthamville since the Johnson boy had accidentally pulled the trigger on his father’s air rifle and killed his mother’s favourite rooster a few years ago.  And it just had to be somebody of prominence … and foreign  to boot, that had been shot this time, which will probably mean that the boys from the big city will have to be brought in on the investigation.’  That did not sit well with the Inspector.  He had never had to deal with any but his own constabulary since the day that he had arrived in the village, but now … .   The inspector knew that he would have to accept their intrusion, and hope that they got it over and done with as quickly as possible.

‘As for those missing men and women,’ he decided,’ if they are really missing, as the rumours say they are, well they are good lads at heart, I’m sure.  Not too sure about the ladies, though.  I was much surprised when they were thrown into the mix.  Anyway, they’ll be back on Monday night – all of them – right as rain, if not a bit worse for wear after a top week and a bit away from the farm, just you wait and see.    Still, Mrs. Brown and Mrs Johnson were mighty insistent that their husbands had never gone away before and that they hadn’t gone this year, but they were the only ones that had actually reported them as missing.  Ah well, we will just have to wait and see what happens.  Their in the system now, so one can only hope.   Anyway, the gossips never actually mentioned anyone by name, simply that they had heard someone talking down at the pub, or at the butchers … or somewhere equally vague and nondescript.  By the following day the rumour mill had nearly half the village listed as missing.   But as nobody else had reported them as missing we had no idea who ‘was’ actually missing … if anybody at all.   Ah, it will sort its self out, no doubt.  I’d best concentrate on the matter at hand, and not worry about some middle-aged teenagers wanting to have a bit of time by themselves in the big smoke.’

   Mind you’, he continued to argue within, as he drew ever closer to the small group waiting his arrival, ‘it does seem a bit strange that most of them went off without telling their other half they were going.  Must have been a spur of the moment decision, I imagine they will cop it when they return.’  He laughed aloud when he thought about the roasting most of them would get when they returned, but he was certainly not concerned for their safety.  They would all be fine – he was sure of it, and laughed once more at their forthcoming misfortune.

********

“So what is so funny, Inspector?  Are we missing something?”  The voice seemingly roared through the air it was so close to his ears; its mocking tone bringing Inspector O’Reilly’s thoughts and steps to a sudden, embarrassing, halt.  His current mindset had taken him on a journey far from his present physical location and reason for being here.  As a result it had become unprepared for the presence of company; especially unprepared for the company that represented his reason for being here: witnesses to an attempted murder.   And it was worse than that; they were key witnesses who could easily be swayed by his arrogance and apparent lack of concern for the gravity of the situation.   Now he found himself accidentally, unintentionally, mocking the seriousness of the moment.  He now worried that they may feel that he has no genuine interest in the case, and, therefore, possibly going to have no interest in their account of events.   And, if that was the way they thought, he knew that they may not be willing to share the facts with him in a genuine and freely given way.   A monumental blunder on his behalf that could cause him problems as he attempted to take charge of the investigation – and he knew that he would have to move cautiously to regain the respect his position required for him to carry out his job effectively.

But unfortunately for the inspector, he now found his meandering mind had  positioned him standing so physically close to the small group, an immediate resolution to his embarrassment appeared not to be even a remote possibility;  for everything his eyes took in was but a blur.   For three long, painful seconds, as if in reaction to the panic that was clouding his mind,  his eyes literally jumped from face to face, sex to sex, facial memory to facial memory, searching desperately for a sign of recognition from one of them, or at least a display that one of them at least had a sense of understanding to his mind’s current disposition.   He desperately felt the need to speak to someone, to share the humiliation that was running him ragged.  To explain the truth and facts behind his gaffe; To prove he was not a demonic, uncaring, person, that he did have respect for the victim.  And to make it worse for him, his constant jumping his eyes from one unfamiliar face to another was sending his poor head into an abysmal dizziness to the point where he felt he could take no more;  to the point where he decided that passing out would be a better choice of escaping the incredibly dark hole he found he was burying himself in … when suddenly, unexpectedly, he recognised Harvey, and immediately felt the opportunity to finally loosen his tongue and explain his actions had finally arrived.

“Hello, Harvey.  Sorry, I was lost in thought.”   Inspector O’Reilly apologised as he tried to bluff his way out of his gaffe.  “I was just thinking about a few villagers who have made things a bit hard for their rellies and are in for a big hose down when they get back home.  Who are your friends then?”

“Are you taking about the football binge that some of the villagers supposedly went off on?’

“Yes.”  Normally Inspector O’Reilly would not relay information on police matters to the public in this manner, but at the moment he did not consider there to be any real problem in playing down what he considered to be rumours, and he felt that it would be the perfect opportunity to re-establish his position in the murder attempt investigation.

“Is it true.  Have there been dozens of them like I have been told?  Harvey asked, his face expressing his genuine interest.

“I really don’t know.   There have only been two that were reported missing, and at the moment we have not got much to go on.   Both woman swear that their husbands have no interest whatsoever in football.  The rest of the supposed missing villagers are a mystery.   Nobody seems to know who they are, but they are all willing to swear that they have gone to the games because ‘so and so’ had told them about an unnamed neighbour that lived down the road from them who had ducked off for a week at the footy … and in their minds ‘so and so’ was a reliable source.   But names were never given.  Oh, and there were those that reported there had been some witches abducted by aliens on the night of the light: swore that they had seen the abduction, but they too are uncertain as to who it was that was taken.  ‘The beam from the space ship was too bright to see who it was that was taken up – and besides, they had white hoods over their heads.‘  They swore to a man.

“I have always said that there are a lot of so and sos living in the village.” Harvey said with a huge smile on his face, “Interesting  combination, aliens, witches and missing football fanatics.   Must have been an interesting night down at the station.   Did the Sunday papers turn up?  Anything posted on youtube? Pity I missed it.   Anyway, this is Martin, Joseph and Mary.  Everybody, this is our illustrious chief policeman in Trenthamville, Inspector O’Reilly.

“Taking a step down from the big city lights to flaunt your wealth and wisdom with the local yokels in a country retreat are we then?”  The inspector asked with a sneering smile accompanying the tone of his voice,   “It must have come as a bit of a shock to see similarities to what you left at home taking place down here I should imagine.  Been here twenty four hours and you are already witnessing something that you probably could have seen on the street in front of your own home, or outside your local pub, any night of the week.   You may as well have stayed at home and saved yourself the cost of the hotel and petrol.”  As Inspector O’Reilly spoke, he suddenly realised that he was doing it again, unintentionally perhaps, he thought defensively, but still doing it … and that was not acceptable; he was doing himself and his position in the community  no justice whatsoever.   He wondered what he had done to deserve today; a day when everything seemed to be taking joy in working against him, and that most certainly included his own tongue and his big city prejudices.

Joseph had little difficulty in sensing the hostility in the inspector’s voice, but refrained from retaliating, instead offering his hand and a smile.  The inspector, so surprised by Joseph’s reaction to his misdemeanour, automatically reciprocated the gesture without hesitation.  And a split second later became even more embarrassed by his own lack of graces that his stature and position in the village should have guaranteed in the circumstances, when he found himself again reciprocating to a handshake, this time when Martin immediately followed suit.

“Sounds an interesting proposition.”  Joseph replied with a smile,  “Pity that I don’t have the money or the quick wit to afford a jolly good flaunt, but the answer, unfortunately, is no.  We are just up for the weekend to recover some property from the farm.  However, to our delight, what we have come across serendipitously is a very happy and welcoming village.   Much more relaxing than the frantic life that a big city offers.   It seems very pleasant and friendly here.”

“Oh?”   Inspector O’Reilly had not been expecting this sort of response from the Londoners and found himself momentarily lost for words, which had never been his intention; it had been his intention to dominate the conversation, yet now, once again, he found himself falling back to second place in the status quo.   He decided on the spot that in view of the day, and the way it was working against him, that it would be best for him to walk away and come back tomorrow, but he couldn’t do that.   Then suddenly it hit him; he realised that he could get out of this mess, if he simply tweaked things a bit.   But he would have to be careful to pre-think every syllable he uttered.  His plan would work better if he took a deep breath and offered them sympathy to what they had witnessed, rather than giving them the third degree because he thought that they were somehow involved in what they had witnessed … which, in his gut, he did, and in truth he would have been right.  But he had no proof of anything at this stage … just his instinct, and his confidence was so far down at the moment he was feeling even that was failing him today.   He had not seen the victim, nor where they had been shot, or obtained a statement from anybody including the victim himself.   It would be best, he thought, to ask simple questions from those who were claiming to be innocent witness and advise them that he would get their individual statements later, preferably after he had spoken to the victim.   That would allow him time to get his head around everything, and, more importantly, allow enough time to pass for this totally unwanted day to come to its natural end … and a fresh day to commence,  “What do you have to collect?”   He asked.

“A range of things.   The man that had been renting the farm, Professor Tusacani, is the father of a friend of ours.  She had asked us to come down and help her and identify and remove the things that were important or valuable.   She didn’t think that they would be safe with him in hospital for an indefinite period.”

“And where is this friend?   Why isn’t she here?”

“Unfortunately, she is a little indisposed at the moment, but she asked us to collect the items for her.

“That’s a shame.  I was hoping that she may have been able to shed some light on why her father and his brother have both been attacked within just over a week of each other.  Perhaps she may be less hungover by the time I get back to the village.  You are staying at the Rat and Mouse I believe.   I will try and arrange a visit when I get back to village.   You might like to ask her to not leave the village until I have seen her, if you don’t mind.”

Inspector O’Reilly had somehow managed to resist the urge to belittle the indisposed daughter, but it had been hard to push the opportunity to clear his head of the vile memories that kept arriving in his mind.  He knew that he had to get himself out of this stupid mood his brain had gotten him into for no real reason but the fact that it now acknowledged that the shooting really was an inconvenience that he could well do without.  It was not the fault of these people that he was feeling the discomfort of the situation.   It was possibly the first time since he had arrived in the village that Inspector O’Reilly realised just how much he had settled into the peaceful, quiet, tranquility of this village –  now, as a result of the shooting, everything bad about his past life in the force was about to come crashing down on him, and he had no idea how to handle the situation.  He had been a good copper, he had solved many crimes, and the posting to the village had been as a reward to him for the great work he had done in both the robbery and homicide divisions over the years.   He had worked hard, but after twenty years he had seen more than he could tolerate any longer and rather than lose him to the public world, his bosses had thrown Trenthamville to him as a life-line.   And it had worked.   Everything about the workload he carried in those early years were all but completely forgotten, his mind and life were both peaceful and content.  But now, with every second that passed, more and more more memories were flooding back into his mind.  Memories that were messing with his disposition and sanity.  He really wished he had a bit of Harry Potter’s magic and could wish this entire situation into oblivion.   He was, he admitted to himself, very, very frustrated.  And Joseph was about to make his day even worse.

“No, I don’t think that will be possible” Joseph answered in a quiet, soft voice, “she is currently resting in her bed at the Rat and Mouse in a coma somewhat similar to her father.”

Joseph’s words made Inspector O’Reilly’s mind feel like a ton of bricks had been dropped on it … brick, after brick, after brick.  He now truly regretted not just walking away from the day that was lurching from disaster to disaster with continuous monotony when the idea had first come to him … now he felt that a heart attack or a stroke was the only way out … and he doubted very much that that was even a remote possibility.   “Oh, I am so sorry, I had no idea.   What happened?   Was she attacked by someone like he was.  I was not aware of anything like that being reported.”

Joseph was about to lie to the police officer, or at least tweak facts into a series of events that weren’t quite as they were presented, and somehow managed to continue speaking without having any change to his face take place.  “It wasn’t reported because we are uncertain what really happened.   I had to see her before I went to bed, but when I arrived at her room the door was unlocked, yet all of the lights, bar the one in the bedroom, were turned off.   I entered the room to make certain that everything was alright, and managed to trip over her body in the dark.  When I finally got the lights back on I checked her pulse and she was breathing, but certainly in a deep sleep.   I got her to her bed, then rang William Jones the hotel manager and owner, and he rang the doctor who found the injection marks on her body which is why we assumed that she had been drugged.  There was no sign of the needle to be found in the room, but the balcony door was open so we assumed that somebody had been there, and that, to our way of thinking at the time, confirmed the possibility that she had been drugged, but certainly didn’t prove it.   We won’t know what actually happened until she wakes up.  The doctor thinks that she may recover from it within a day or so.  This was the same doctor who had initially treated her father, and he said she did not seem as deep in sleep as he had been, so he is of the opinion that is either of a lower dosage, or a different drug entirely, but she was most certainly under medical inducement of some kind.  We have arranged for twenty four seven nursing which has already commenced.  There was not much we could do for her back at the hotel so we decided that we would finish off the reason why we came down to the village; to retrieve some of her father’s possessions that she felt would not be safe down here while he was in hospital.   Getting everything sorted out and packed up now would mean that we could get her back to London and have her checked over by Harley Street specialists as soon as she recovered well enough to travel.  And that, hopefully, will be by Tuesday morning.”

“These things that you have to collect – were they things in the barn?”

“Some were…the rest are in the house. We have to do a thorough job of searching the barn.   There are so many farm relics in there it is almost like a museum of farming history.  It will take us quite a while to get through the whole building, so we really do need to get started.”

“It’s just that the barn will be a crime scene for a while.”  Inspector O’Reilly began a little awkwardly,   “Actually, I just remembered, Martin … yes, Martin.  It was you that I spoke to that night, wasn’t it?   The night of the light here at the farm.   You asked something about a large box which we never found, and a statue.   About six feet long, I seem to remember you saying.   We did a reasonably thorough search for it, but we couldn’t find anywhere with enough room to hide something like that.  Is that something that you are still searching for?”

Martin was rather taken back by the question and had to think hard about how to answer it,  “Yes, we will look for it, but we feel now that there is every chance that it has been moved to a new area.   Like you, we would like to speak to Vittorio when he comes to.  We think that he was about to tell us where it had been hidden when he was shot.”

“Oh, I see.   Well, good luck on your search.”

“Does that mean we can continue searching even though it is now a crime scene?  “Joseph asked, slightly surprised by the turnaround to where he thought this conversation to be heading.

“Yes.  Normally the answer would be no.   But under the circumstances, please feel free to take what ever you need to.  I am sure that nothing you are removing had anything to with the attack.   Not that I can imagine anything that either of the brothers would do that would provoke such an attack.  They came across as refined gentlemen when I met them.”

“Well, I thank you on Rosetta’s behalf.”

“You are most welcome.   Please forgive my rudeness.  I am afraid it has been a long time since I had an attempted murder in my jurisdiction … and that was not in a quiet little place like Trenthamville.   I’m sorry, I will let you get back to your business as quickly as I can, but first I must ask a few questions.   Do I take it that you all witnessed the shooting?”

“That we did,” Harvey interjected, “I had come to the farm to collect the eggs as usual, when these three arrived.   I introduced myself and we were having a bit of a chat about the farm when Vittorio, the professor’s brother, and, as it turned out, their friend’s uncle, arrived.   I introduced them because they had not met previously, and we were just talking to Vittorio when suddenly there was a gun shot, and he fell down like a sack of potatoes.”

“You had not met your friend’s uncle before?   Inspector O’Reilly asked, directing the question to Joseph.

“No.   Rosetta and I have only met in more recent times.   Her father and uncle are rarely in Italy where they come from according to what Rosetta had told me.   Coming down here to get her father’s possessions would have given me my first opportunity to meet Vittorio, however he wasn’t contactable.   We had no idea where he was, so we came out to the farm yesterday in the hope that we would catch up on him, but no such luck.   We simply came out here today to collect what we could find and fit in the car.   However, luck was with us this time, or at least it was for a short while; we got the chance to meet Vittorio, but then … .”

“I don’t suppose that any of you saw who did it?” The inspector asked

“No … not exactly.”  Harvey said as he once again took over the inspector’s enquiries.  “It was done by somebody standing just inside the entrance to the barn.   I think we all spun around at the sound of the shot and we caught a glimpse of someone running out of the door.   However, the background light made it impossible for us to see anything clearly.   We tried to give chase, but unfortunately he had too much of a head start on us.  The figure that I did eventually see disappearing over the rise near the end of the barn appeared to be a short, tubby fellow, ran with a slight limp, and was dressed in a business suit, Harrods by the cut of it… had a small scar down the nape of his neck, or perhaps it was a tattoo…..oh, one more thing, he was wearing some expensive looking silver jewellery on his left hand.  I have no idea if he was alone or not; simply couldn’t see much more from here, but by the sound of his car it wasn’t a local.  Sounded big and expensive, definitely eight cylinder, probably a limousine … most likely a Daimler, though it was more than likely a couple of years old and in the need of a service – I could hear a slight pinging in third gear.   But of course, I must emphasise that the person I described might not have been the one we had seen running out of the barn.  There was no way possible that we could describe that person … the sun was far too bright for our eyes to take in.”

Joseph looked inquisitively at Harvey.  ‘So much for the country hick intellect’, he thought to himself.

“Daimler limousine, eh, I’ll have the boys keep a look out for it.  It’s good thing that you were here at the time, Harvey.   Not many would have been that observant.”

The Inspector noticed the incredulous look on the faces of Joseph, Mary and Martin to Harvey’s description of events and felt it necessary to give credence to Harvey’s observations.

“Harvey has a remarkable gift for observation and interpretation of what he sees and hears.  If only most people in the city had his capability, the crime rate would be almost zero and all criminals would be behind bars.  Thank you, Harvey.”

“Quite a neat party trick, Harvey.” Joseph remarked, while his mind raced over the events that had preceded this conversation, and he wondered what would now be brought to the fore considering the questions that had been asked of Harvey by himself and his little group, and the information that Vittorio had provided to them all.   Joseph did not feel the need to involve the police in their search for the missing statue, but he may not have the chance to object.  All that the three of them, he, Martin and Mary, could do was to keep as quiet as they could and play the cards as they were dealt.  It was all up to Harvey now … and perhaps Mary.

“Now this fellow, the one that was shot, Vittorio.  I have been looking for him to ask him a few questions about the strange things that have been happening out here.  Did he say anything?”  Inspector O’Relly asked.

“Vittorio.  Why no,” Harvey replied to Joseph’s great relief,  “He had been mystified about the events himself.   Something had happened to him that night that had caused some memory loss.   He was not a well man and we dared not attempt to force his mind into a complete breakdown.   Perhaps he will be more lucid after a rest in the hospital.   Perhaps he may have the answers you require then, but at the moment I am not sure that he knows which side is up.”

“Yes, you are quite right.  That was my intention, which is why I had my constable despatching the ambulance as soon as he had confirmed that Vittorio was still alive.  If there is nothing more that you can tell me … then you all can go about your business.  I will arrange to have a policeman stay with him at the hospital until he recovers enough for me to interview him.”

The Inspector was pleased at this change of events.   Now he felt confident that he might be able to clear up some of the things that had been bothering him, and with a bit of luck, he felt that he might not have to call in the boys from the city after all.  All he had to do was locate a short, roly-poly man driving a Damlier.   Shouldn’t be hard to track down in this village.   Every second house in the village would have at least one window watcher.   They would have seen it.   And he felt if Harvey’s story was correct, then these people had nothing to answer to: the less that he had to do with city people the better that he liked it.   He started walking back towards his car when he remembered something and turned back; the movement causing the trio’s collective hearts to rise to their mouths.  All for differing reasons, but all frightened that their truths were about to be found out.

“Almost forgot my constable.”  The inspector called out with an embarrassed grin on his face as he continued to walk past them towards the barn door,  “He’s still waiting for me to catch up with him in the barn.”   Then suddenly he stopped and turned back towards them.   “Oh, and that reminds me. I will need to get a statement from you all later.  Will you be in the village for a while?”

Individually, and inwardly, Joseph, Martin and Mary softly breathed a sigh of relief at the insignificance of the question and hoped that their faces did not betray them.  They agreed that they would be and gave him their respective room numbers at the hotel, which he wrote down in a small notebook – then quickly walked into the barn, emerging a minute later with the constable and with a final wave of his hand, got into the police car and departed the farm.

*********

“Well, I am not too sure about our chief of police.”   Harvey spoke softly as Inspector O’Reilly opened the door to the passenger side of the police car and hopped inside.  “I have never seen him act this way before.  He has been known to become a little hot headed when playing bowls on the village green in the weekly comp and having a bad day, but never rude like that as a rule.  It was as if he trying to deliberately goad you three.  I thought you handled him pretty well, though.  You certainly calmed him down some.”

“I am afraid that your inspector has become too settled down in the village way of life.”  Joseph replied.   He has lost contact with real crime and it worries him because that is what he now finds himself facing.   He is also worried that the authorities will send troops down from London and is frightened that it will reduce his standing in the community if somebody else is in charge.   It will certainly disturb the tranquility of the village regardless of who is investigating, but he feels that he can keep panic and suspicion levels down to a tolerable level.  I don’t know if he is going to achieve anything, but he feels that the Daimler and its driver may be the answer to his problem, and he is certain he knows how to track it down; local resources of which he is very familiar.  It will take him some time to get all his detective facilities back into overdrive, but until he finds the Daimler he will be hesitant to report the matter at hand to his superiors.   Once he does begin to retrieve the knowledge he needs to remember, there will be every chance that he will make our life a lot more uncomfortable, so we better get cracking and solve the mystery of the missing statue before he stars cracking the whip in our direction.

All three of his companions looked at Joseph, but it was Mary that spoke.   ‘What do you mean, Joseph? she asked.   “How would you know that?”

Joseph looked at her and grinned.  “I was eavesdropping” was all he said, leaving Mary’s mouth wide open, but speechless, and as the inspector’s car disappeared around the side of  the barn Joseph turned to speak to Harvey. “Well you certainly come with many surprises.  I would have sworn that you would have been dying to tell the inspector about the things that Vittorio had talked about.”

Harvey grinned as he replied.  “Sorry if I bunged on the country thing a bit thick. I am from here.  Born and bred on my father’s farm about a mile from here.  But around ten years ago, after finishing university, I joined the army – Special Intelligence Investigation Section.  Actually, I didn’t apply for the position, I was offered it.  When I started high school they discovered that I had a much higher intelligence level than anybody had previously realised.   I got special treatment, and an early entry into university, courtesy of the army.   As a trade off, I had to spend several years paying back my fees by working for them.

Loved the job … it took me right around the world.  I saw many things that the average person would rarely hear about, far less see.  Had some amazing investigations involving things I may never be able to talk about.  Top secret things.   Sometimes I saw too much, and it turned my stomach, so eventually I retired, and returned back here to where things were a lot more relaxed and saner.  Though, mind you, I am still on call should they need my special services.   Probably forever, I should imagine.”

“Surely you can share a few juicy antidotes with your new friends, Harvey.”  Martin asked with a huge, hopeful, grin on his face,  “Something to whet the appetite.   Think of it like a freedom of information request”

“Sorry.  I would have to shoot you after telling you … and the paperwork involved in that  … well the chooks would have a hell of a lot of eggs lying on the ground by the time I finished it.   It would take me a month to clear everything up.”

“Shame,”   Martin conceded, “but I know the feeling.  Please go on with what you were saying about why you kept quiet.”

“As far as what Vittorio told us, let’s just say that I am curious about what you are involved in, but I don’t think that the inspector would exhibit the same tolerance with talks of demons and witches that I do.  He has heard stories over the years, but he prefers to turn a blind eye to it.  Nobody has ever been hurt by their antics as far as anybody knows and, until they do, he doesn’t want to know anything about it.  I, on the other hand, am quite willing to put my hand up should you require my help.”

“Well, thank you, Harvey.   There may be every chance that we will take you up on your offer.   At the moment, however, what we need to do is begin our search.  What happens in the future will rely on this morning’s effort.   But we will certainly utilise your offer and resources if we are unsuccessful because it will mean making contact with anybody in the village that had a connection with Professor Tusacani.

“And there is nothing that I can be of help with before I leave?”

“I don’t think so.  We are not too sure what we are actually looking for, its almost certain to be disguised, but if it is here, we will find it.”

“If you are sure I can’t help – then I must be on my way.    Give me a yell if you need to know anything else about the village.   I’ll give you my number – in fact I will give you a call now and you can save it on your phone.”

“Good idea, old chap … Thank you.   Martin duly gave Harvey the information he required and seconds later he had Harvey’s number on file and Harvey bid them farewell.    However, as he began to leave, Harvey turned around to face them with a huge grin on his face.   “The wife will give me hell when I get home for being away for so long.  But when I tell her about the shooting she will make me king for the day: Juicy bit of gossip, and she’ll be the first to know,” he winked and headed off down the hill in the opposite direction to the inspector and then, like the inspector, he had only travelled about one hundred yards when he turned around and came back.

   “Forgot my eggs,” he grinned foolishly.  He collected his basket of eggs and as he began to go he stopped for a second and looked at Joseph. “It might not do any harm to talk to your landlord about the witches; they may be more resilient than you would give them credit for.  There is a strong possibility that Vittorio may be correct in his assumption that they will be back … especially if they are under a misguided assumption regarding the power that they are trying to summon.   I think that the drawings on the wall, and the artifacts in the hallway, were put there by two different groups, but they were probably done for much the same reason – to protect the village from the devil that somebody thinks is coming.  However, from what Vittorio said, their protection won’t have any effect; the witches’ interference, however, just might make a difference to the entity’s invasion.   Think about talking to Willie Jones.  He is a good man and may be able to help answer some questions.  Anyway, must fly.  Take care.”

This time Harvey did not come back, but he did turn his head as he was about halfway down the hill to wave back to the small group who were still watching him as he departed.

Martin, Mary and Joseph began to saunter back to the barn feeling slightly run over by the events that had so far been their lot for the morning.

“Well, it has been an invigorating and interesting morning so far.” Martin observed dryly,   “I can’t help but wonder what happens next.”

“As distasteful as it may seem, I think that we will have to recover the knife along with finding the statue.   If Vittorio’s story is true, then there is only one way to retrieve it.”   Joseph stated quietly.

Martin winced, but Mary did not comprehend the reason for his reaction, “From where?” she asked innocently.

Joseph simply looked at her, shrugged, shook his head, and headed straight back towards the farmhouse.

Mary stared after him before turning to Martin, “Where is he going to find the knife?”

Martin shook his head and followed Joseph into the farmhouse.

“Martin!’  Mary momentarily remained outside the house, feeling rather perplexed at where they were going.  Eventually, she walked in to the house and started to search for them.  She found them almost immediately: Mary felt like screaming as she now realized why they had not replied to her question.   Down on their hands and knees, both Martin and Joseph were using broom handles to try and scrape through the remains of what they now believed to be human beings; and she realised that the blade, if it existed, would be found underneath a pile of decarbonised corpses.

Go to Episode 47

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Short Fat Stubby Finger Stories PRESENTS:

The NIGHT OF THE DARKNESS

EPISODE 45

“If you really believe that there are bodies in those embers – shouldn’t we tell the police?”   Harvey asked, his voice simply offering advice, but his mind constantly seeking a way of rejecting the possibility that what Joseph was suggesting was even remotely true.

“No,”   Joseph replied with relief as he was dragged screaming away from his thoughts and back to the moment.   “I believe that the people we are dealing with to obtain the antidote to be both callous and dangerous.   If the police became involved, and we are seen to have been responsible for the situation that brought them here, I don’t think they would be very sympathetic to whatever reason we come up with if it means that they can’t get access to the statue.   And besides that, I doubt very much that the police will believe us anyway.   Most likely the only way we could convince them what we were saying was true would be by encouraging them to take samples for D.N.A. testing, but that would mean them interfering with the burning embers, and we certainly don’t recommend that … it is far too dangerous.”

“What do you mean, dangerous?”  Harvey asked in confusion.   “It doesn’t look dangerous. It’s smouldering, not blazing.”

“Martin, was there another broom in that cupboard?”

“Yes, I think so.  Would you like me to get it?”

“Yes, please.”

Martin quickly marched of to the cupboard and returned a few seconds later with a straw broom in his hand.   “Here you go, guv,” he called out jovially in his best cockney impersonation, “Would you like me to slip up the chimney or sweep up the embers?”

“No, thank you, and no dancing either, you, or your chimney-sweep mates.  In fact, Martin, I think this time … I would like you to throw the whole broom into the embers, but slowly and gently if you please.

“Righto, guv.   Here we go … one, two, three.”  Martin counted three very short running steps as he moved on his toes like a ballerina towards the outer rim of the embers before gently releasing the broom into the air like it was a javelin that only had to travel four yards to win gold.

Mary and Harvey took in the antics of the two men as if they were both a tad crazy, and both simultaneously rolled their eyes in bemusement, but neither one of them were prepared for the sudden loud cracks of energy that fractured the quietness of the room as every straw on the broom and the tight cord that bound the bristles, all but simultaneously burst into flame.   Mary got such a fright her feet literally lifted several inches off the floor and she suddenly found herself in an embarrassing situation as she fought gallantly to regain her balance once they touched base with the ground again.

“What the hell?”   Harvey whispered hoarsely, his eyes wide open in disbelief at what he had just witnessed, and his immediate reaction to the unexpected fright he had received reflected in the snarl in his voice.   “Is this some kind of trick you have set up to have a bit of fun with me?”  He asked, and as he spoke Harvey swung around, traversing his eyes in a three hundred and sixty degree circle as he searched for some clue as to how they had set it up.

“My god, Joseph,” An ashen faced Mary asked in a shaky voice, “You scared the life out of me.   How did you make that happen?”

“So many questions,” Joseph replied light-heartedly, “You are like a couple of investigators interviewing the prime suspect in an episode of New Tricks.   No, Mary, we did not set it up.  For a start, we had no idea that Harvey would be here, or you for that matter.   We thought that we would arrive before you so we could get on with our search without becoming involved in side issues like we are now.  But, as it turns out, both of you arrived before we did.  And, if after all, you both got here before we did, how could we set anything up?  We were hoping nobody would be here.  And we certainly had no reason to kill anybody, which is what probably would have happened to the police should they have begun rummaging through the embers.  I should imagine that the firemen’s protective clothing would have protected them should they have walked through it, though I very much doubt that they would have needed to wander through it.  In such a confined space, whatever they were using on it would have been just as effective on the fire from where we are standing, as standing in the middle of it; the police, on the other hand, would most likely have joined the witches because their job would have required them to rake through the embers looking for clues.  And so would anybody else that entered the burning area as we did.   Whatever is causing it is very selective, it seems to prefer flesh and combustible matter rather than solid objects such as the broom handle.   We tested a live chicken on it yesterday and, I’m sorry to say, the chicken was not impressed.   And I didn’t feel so good about it myself afterwards.   My intention wasn’t to barbeque the chicken, but I did need to test a theory that had just entered my head.  And while the chicken was not so fascinated with the test results, fortunately for us my theory proved to be correct, otherwise it may have been us instead of Chicken Little that was on the barnyard missing list.

Whatever is going on in the village, and here at the farm, is well beyond my understanding.   What is happening is not what we were expecting.   We were expecting nothing more than a ‘Where’s Wally’ puzzle to be solved in a relatively short time period, and without clues to help us; locating an item discovered in the desolation of an Asian desert and brought here and hidden somewhere while waiting to be sent to a safe museum for the world to see.  Find it, and exchange it for an antidote we need to overcome Rosetta and her father’s current medical predicament.  The statue is considered valuable, in both monetary value, and historical value.   It is reasonably large, around six feet in length, give or take a foot either way, and at least two feet wide, and that alone should make it easy to locate … and this is the very reason why we need Vittorio’s assistance.   Although we may discover its hidey-hole today, I don’t think that we will.   I believe that it has been disguised in some manner to make it extremely hard to recognise as being what we are physically searching for, or, in the worst case scenario, it has been moved to another area possibly away from the farm, and if that is the case then, without Vittorio’s assistance, time is definitely against us.

And, to make matters worse, there seems there is the possibility that there are now several other interested parties searching for the prize we seek, possibly, probably, including whoever is responsible for the attacks on Rosetta and her father.  I have no idea of who they are, nor what they may look like, or how they are involved in the scheme of things … nothing!  And that is what makes them so dangerous; it also means that we can trust nobody, though I am taking the risk on you two … so I do truly hope that my instincts are right.”

“You can, Joseph.”   Harvey and Mary replied as one voice.

“Well, thank you, both, but now, to make our task even more difficult than it is already, there is something strange taking place in this village.   And although I have no idea what is happening, it is happening … and whatever it is, it appears to possibly be concerned with our mission, therefore we are all becoming dragged screaming and kicking into the middle of it.  Which means we now find ourselves in a bit of a quandary.   We do have to find this missing item, and we do have to get the antidote … there are lives at stake here, perhaps many lives, and bringing the police in on it will only hamper our attempts to protect those lives.   We can’t very well expect to tell the police how we are involved and expect them to not attempt to prevent us from completing our mission, even if they do half-believe what we would need to tell them if we were forced to tell the truth.  They’d more than likely lock us up for our own safety and call in some psychiatrists.   Harvey I just had a thought.   Did Vittorio say ‘it’, or ‘they’ would, or could, come back?”

“Funny when I heard it at the time … it never struck me as odd.   But now, when you ask, he did say ‘it’.  But he was a bit wibbly-wobbly at the time.  And he is Italian, perhaps it got lost in translation.   Why do you ask?”

“I’m not too sure.   It hits a nerve for some reason, but I can’t think why.   Never mind, it will come back if it’s important.”

“You know, I am starting to wonder now.”  Harvey began, “If those are dead bodies burnt to a crisp, then possibly Vittorio was frightened into his current situation by something far beyond my wildest imagination.   But what could have been in that reasonably confined space that caused so much damage to the witches, and poor Vittorio’s mind, without my seeing it moving around inside the house, seeing shadows on the wall, or seeing it escaping while I was standing outside.  I’m now beginning to believe that the two witches I saw running out in front of Vittorio may very well have met with a similar fate.   God, I must have been lucky to have not joined them.  No, you’ve got it wrong.   They can’t be dead … it’s not possible.”

“Harvey,” Mary interjected, “Laurie told me that the majority of the witches are missing from the village.  Do you know anything about that?”

“There are rumours floating around about a whole group of locals heading off for a boozy weekend in London without a word to those closest to them, men and women, but I didn’t know that they were witches.   And I don’t know how many there are involved, just that there was a lot.  My wife told me that she had heard that quite a few husbands had done the dirty on their families by taking off for the city for a footy game or two.  Seems that there is some kind of super weekend being played over the holiday break, several matches on each day … that sort of thing.  Other stories had men and women kidnapped by aliens on the night of the long light and not yet returned to their families.  But nobody is saying anything about who is actually missing – so nobody seems to really know what the truth is.   A few of the locals have been having a bad go of it lately, so I suppose that there is a chance that some have simply walked away hoping that a weekend away will help them get out of their depressed state.   Some of the hired hands may have even gone off to better paying jobs.   It’s impossible to know who is really missing.   I am sorry, but that’s all I know.   My wife only mentioned it yesterday.  Or, at least, I vaguely remember her talking about it yesterday.  I am afraid I don’t really listen to a lot of what my wife says – especially when it comes to local gossip.  Perhaps I should try a bit harder – I could learn a few things.”

“Laurie suggested much the same thing.”  Martin said with afterthought.

“That I should listen more to my wife, or I could learn a few things?”

Martin simply shook his head and rolled his eyes at Harvey’s response, but Mary offered something new to their education; something that made everyone think twice about what might have happened.  “Laurie told me the witches had attempted sacrifices at least once to his knowledge.  Maybe they did conjure up the devil – and paid for their actions.”

Joseph looked quizzically at a smiling Mary for a second before turning back to Harvey.

“Do any of these markings mean anything to you?” he asked, indicating the drawings on the wall.

Harvey appeared to be really noticing them for the first time since he entered the room and gave the drawings a long perplexed look before finally replying.

“No, gruesome looking things aren’t they?”

“Not exactly Van Gogh or Da Vin… .”  Joseph said in agreement, but his words were quickly cut off by Mary’s unexpected scream, and as Joseph and the others turned to see what she was looking at, they saw the blood red eyes staring into the house.

“Quickly … we can’t let him get away this time.”  Joseph yelled as he headed towards the front door, exiting the house just in time to see a figure disappearing into the barn.  “God he’s fast.  That’s a good fifty or sixty yard sprint.   Was that him?,” he asked Harvey as they sprinted towards the barn, “Was that Vittorio?”

“Yes, that was him … though he looked a bit worse for wear than he did this morning when he had breakfast.  I really do think the sooner we get him safe housing, the better off he will be.”

Joseph, his vision concentrating on the doors in the middle of the barn directly in front of him, failed to see the short stubby figure in a dark suit who quickly ducked back behind the side of the barn as the rest of the small group came running out of the house, but the bystander on the hill had seen Vittorio running to the barn and knew what would happen next;   His plans were ready.

But so were the plans of Akerious … and this time Joseph managed to not react to the voices in his head.

********

The small group assembled at the barn doors, and Joseph reached out to grab the handle to swing the doors open, but Harvey stopped him mid-action.

“Is it dark or light in there?”   Harvey asked.

“It’s about fifty fifty with the doors wide open.”   Joseph replied, “we were unable to find the light-switch.  Though Vittorio seemed to know his way around in the dark.   We will definitely need to keep well away from the shadows.

“Vittorio may be scared of us because we are a group,” Harvey suggested, “I will go in alone and try to coax him out.”

Harvey pulled the door open several feet and took a few steps into the badly illuminated barn and began to call out. “Vittorio … Vittorio … Don’t be frightened.   It’s me, Harvey, your friend.  These people just want to ask you a few questions.”   Harvey kept calling out every few seconds or so, but there was no response.

“He came out from underneath somewhere at the far side of the building last time,” Mary contributed, omitting to state that she had seen Vittorio do so while she had been spying on them.

“Why don’t you show Martin.  That way we can keep all the exits covered.  In the meantime I am going in.   I don’t think that Harvey is going  to succeed on his own.”  Joseph suggested as he headed into the barn to join Harvey while Mary shook her head in agreement and she and Martin quickly made their way outside the barn and around the corner.

********

Looking around the inside of the badly-lit barn proved no easier for Joseph than it had been the day before.  The loft was covered in black and silver patches where the sun filtered in from the holes in the roof, and the light became lost in shadows behind the bales of hay.  The left hand side of the barn at ground level was reasonably open – while the right hand side, completely out of reach of the morning light that poured in from the open door, remained totally isolated and threatening in its permanent darkness.

“I don’t suppose you know where the light switch is, Harvey.”

“Sorry, I don’t know.   I don’t normally come in here.  I have seen Vittorio enter and leave the barn most days I am at the farm, but I, myself, have never been inside.   It was always ‘no entry’ to anybody but the professor and Vittorio … ‘top secret’ and all that jazz.   I have no idea where the switch is.  He may not even turn the lights on when he goes in.  You can’t tell from the outside.  However, at a guess, I would assume that it is somewhere near the doors.”

“Yes, so did we … with no success.”   Joseph stated despondently   Joseph felt hopeless in the pursuit of his goal, but the glimmer of an idea began to form in his head, and suddenly he took aim with the only weapon that he felt was available to him at this particular point of time.

“Vittorio,” he called out loudly and clearly.   “My name is Joseph.  I am a friend of your niece, Rosetta.  We are here to try and find a cure for your brother.  We need your help before it is too late. Already Rosetta is in trouble.  Last night someone attacked her at the hotel where she is staying and drugged her.  Do you hear me, Vittorio?  I said that Rosetta is in trouble and I … .”

Joseph didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence; a figure rushed at him from out of the shadows only a few feet away from where he was standing.  The momentum took both Joseph, and his attacker, flying to the floor.  They struggled while the attacker continually muttered something completely indecipherable.   It took Harvey several seconds to react, but as soon as he did, he jumped into the affray and finally he and Joseph pinned Vittorio down by sitting on his chest.

In the eerie, half dark-half bright illumination, Joseph looked into the eyes of this wild, red-eyed man underneath him.  It was quite apparent that they may have him down, but he was far from being subdued.   Vittorio continued to struggle, but as his dulled senses began to realize that movement was useless, he finally calmed down, exchanging his anger and resentment from physical action to a verbally threatening manner.

“What have you done to Rosetta?  Tell me!  Now, or I Will kill you!” his voice roared, in a manner befitting a man who was in charge of the situation, rather than one who was currently restrained.

“Easy, easy, Vittorio,” Joseph said slowly, his voice soft and calm, “I didn’t harm Rosetta.  We are very close friends.  We are here because she wanted us to make sure that you are alright after what happened to your brother. ”

The words had the desired effect, and Vittorio stopped struggling.

“She is alright?  My little Rosetta is alright?”  Joseph admired the man’s genuine concern, but was dubious about his choice of description.  Rosetta was not little by any stretch of the imagination.

“Yes, she is alright – in a manner of speaking; she was drugged when she caught someone searching her room last night.  Whatever they used, it has left her comatose in much the same way your brother was, however, in her case, the doctor thinks that she may recover in a day or so.

“Why would they drug a little girl?”

“Vittorio … how long has it been since you last saw Rosetta?”

“A couple of years, five, six … seven, perhaps … I don’t know.  Would you mind getting off me, please?”

By now Vittorio’s voice had assumed a more rational tone and Harvey, violently nodding his head, appeared quite willing to take the chance.   However, Joseph, after his encounter with Vittorio the day before, and with what Harvey himself had told him about Vittorio’s current state of mentality, was unsure whether this was a genuine normalisation in his mental state, or just a ploy to try to escape.

He hesitated for a second or two, then took the risk and indicated to Harvey that they should get off him.  The three of them got to their feet just as Mary and Martin came through the door.

“We thought that we heard noises in here.  Is everything alright?”

“Yes, thank you.  We just had an unexpected visitor drop in.  Mary, Martin, may I introduce you to Rosetta’s Uncle Vittorio?”

“Pleased to meet you, old chap.”  Martin extended his hand in friendship without thinking, and, to his surprise, it was taken. “Your niece speaks highly of you.’

Vittorio turned back to face Joseph.  “Are you sure that Rosetta is alright?”

“She should be.  The doctor said that the drugs should wear off in a few days with no side effects other than a headache.  In the meantime she is sleeping soundly back at the hotel.  The staff there will keep a good eye on her, and the doctor will visit her again tonight.  She will be just fine.”

“You three were here yesterday.”  Vittorio said.

“Yes, that is right.  Why did you attack us?”  Joseph asked,

“And scare the life out of me?”  Mary chipped in.

“I didn’t attack you.   I didn’t know who you were, or what you were doing here.  I was frightened.   I thought that you might have been with the others.”

“What others?”

“The ones that want to destroy everything.  The ones that want to reincarnate the Devil!”

“Here we go again.” Harvey commented, shaking his head.

“Do you mean the Punjani, or the witches?”  Joseph asked on the off chance that the voices inside his head that had begun speaking to him were correct in their advice.

“You know about them.  How?  Maybe you are part of them,” Vittorio’s voice began to quaver and grow louder, angrier, suspicious, as he spoke, and his eyes once again began to assume the wild look that it had taken earlier.

“I am still not certain whether you are talking about the Punjani or the witches, Vittorio.”   Joseph answered slowly, cautiously,  “Rosetta told us what her father had told her about the Punjani, and we have read some of your brother’s diary.  But it was some of the locals that have told us about the witches.   And I can assure you that we are not normally involved with either one of them.”

“And Laurie told me about Doctor James’s involvement with them,” Mary blurted out causing both Martin and Joseph to suddenly turn to face her.

‘Just exactly what did she know about all of this,’ Joseph wondered to himself, ‘beside possibly everything that we don’t?’  Mary’s continued sporadic offerings of information and Vittorio’s current see-sawing between reality and insanity was beginning to unnerve him no end.

“What else did Laurie tell you?” Joseph asked Mary, doing his best to sound calm.

“Quite a lot,” Mary replied with a wink , “quite a lot.”

“I think that we should get together later today, for a long chat.”

“That would be lovely, Joseph.”

Joseph immediately turned back to Vittorio, careful to retain the man’s balance of mind on the right side of sanity in order for him to eventually reveal his greatest secret: the hiding place of the statue.

“Vittorio, the ones that were at the farm were not the Punjani, they were witches from a local coven.  I just wanted to know which group you thought would come back.

“I do not trust the Punjani, but it is the witches that I fear the most.”  Vittorio’s face went dark, however, to Joseph’s relief, he did not raise the tempo of his voice,  “They know not what they are dealing with, and they cannot control it or even negotiate with it the way that the Punjani can.   It is the witches that will attempt to go back; they think that the Punjaniti, or whatever devil from Hades they are trying to bring up will reward them for their valiant attempts to appease him, but they don’t have the statue and they will not appease him in any way whatsoever – it will only anger him … and god forbid what he will do with that anger.  What I am certain of is that it is the Punjaniti that they are calling up, it was the Punjaniti that arrived in the house that night.  And the Punjaniti has its own agenda and it is not to appease some the members of some little tinpot countryside coven, it is far more than that.   The village is in danger thanks to their meddling, we all are.  Soon the world will be.   They must be stopped at all costs.  I am sorry, senorita, if I frightened you,” Vittorio said, his voice now remarkably calm, “but when strangers turn up and look around the farm, I become suspicious about their motives.  Especially after what has happened here, and those witches that were here that night – they have no idea what their meddling may have done.  I know that they’ll be back one day soon to cause further damage and when they do – I’ll be ready for them.”

“I know that you didn’t know us when we were here yesterday, but surely you recognised Rosetta?”  Joseph asked, as he attempted to get himself on a more personal level with Vittorio to test the waters on his chances of convincing him it would be safe to reveal the hiding  place of the statue.

“Rosetta … was that Rosetta that I saw?  That beautiful young woman that you were with, that was Rosetta?”

“Yes.  That was Rosetta.   She is twenty one now … all grown up.”

“I don’t believe it.  Yes, she’s certainly all grown up.  My God how long have I been away.  I didn’t recognize her.”  Vittorio’s mind began to wander away to a time many eons ago … a time when he was back in Italy.   His mind began to conjure up memories of the fun days that he and Rosetta and her mother and father had had when they were all much younger and still living more regularly in their beautiful Italian home.  Memories that were saved into their hearts long before the endless journeys to the sweltering heat and endless deserts of foreign lands began to deny them such treasured moments.  How he would tease the shy young girl about boys, or join in with her joy when her father performed his wonderful magic show.  Then just as quickly as they had arrived, the memories began to move forward, over the years of travelling and digging and discovering.  Ever onward until they reached the land where they discovered the artifacts of the Punjaniti … then maliciously the memories transported him back here to the farm where they had brought the statue.  Suddenly the horror of that thing that the witches had conjured up came flooding back.   His mind began to snap again, his eyes became glazed, and saliva started to form at the corners of his mouth.  “They will come back and they will try again – and this time they may succeed.  We must stop them.  We must destroy the Devil’s gateway.”

Vittorio’s voice was seriously beginning to exhibit agitation once again and Joseph was desperate to obtain the answer to his unasked question before the unfortunate man slipped back into his madness.

“The witches.” Vittorio suddenly cried out loudly, startling Mary, and worrying Joseph that the man was going to completely lapse into madness within seconds, “The Devil’s workers.” Vittorio continued, his voice rising in a mixture of fear and anger with every syllable, “The Punjaniti.  It will be here soon.”

“’It’, again!” Joseph thought to himself, ‘So was it the Punjaniti that arrived, or something else?’, he wondered,   Eventually Joseph decided that Vittorio was no more certain of what he had seen that night than Joseph was and that, Joseph thought, was a shame.   He had accepted the fact that he was in the business of doing battle with the Punajniti, and that the battle with the Punjaniti was real … and he was absolutely certain that the Punjaniti was responsible for the annihilation of the witches, but something was niggling away at him.   Something was telling him something about the Punjaniti that he wasn’t aware of, but he couldn’t bring it to the fore.  Eventually he sighed, dismissed the thought, and took his attention back to the task at hand: obtaining the whereabouts of the statue

“Vittorio, I need to ask you what happened to you that night, but before I do, I need to know something.   Something that may upset you, and if it does I apologise profusely in advance, but I truly need to know.  Have you been back inside the house since that night?”

“No!”  The question seemed to snap Vittorio back into reality.  Fear shook the words that were his response:  “No.  I don’t know if that thing is still there, or if it ran with its own when the fire exploded.  I have only looked in through the windows.”

“Do you know how many of the witches ran out with you?”

The question seemed to have a reaction with Vittorio, and for a moment the vision of impending madness was replaced by one of absurdness.

“I should imagine that they all came out with me.  They were in as much a state of panic as I was after the thing arrived.   Why would you ask me such a question?”

Joseph decided to wait a bit longer before telling him what he had suspected had happened to the witches.

“Vittorio, are you able to describe what happened that night?   Why the witches were here … and what happened to your brother?”

Vittorio began to tremble all over.  Fear reflected in his eyes as recollections of the horror of the night began to reform somewhere within the theatre in his mind.  His facial features clearly reflected his unwillingness to return to the scene that were about to confront him, but he drew deep into his courage and, to Joseph’s relief, agreed to do as he was requested.

It soon apparent to all that Vittorio was having difficulty composing himself, but he seemed to putting every effort he could into staying rational, and they could only hope that he achieved his aim, at least long enough for them to obtain the answers that they needed.   The right information could go a long way to re-establishing normality to his entire family.

“It commenced on what we had thought to be the day before the witches would come,” Vittorio began, his voice gradually easing into the unaccustomed role of tale teller.   “Roberto, my brother, Rosetta’s father, and I were in the process of moving the statue to its new location.  We had discovered some more information about the cult through some follow up to our initial discovery of the site.   An associate of ours, who had been doing research for us into the markings on the scabbard, had e-mailed us some updated information … and it came with several warnings.

It appeared that the knife that we had found must be used to kill three sacrifices on one particular night of the three nights of the Ramis in order to allow the Punjaniti to travel to this world once the statue was completed.   The symbols on the knife indicated that the victims must be young, two females and one male, and take place on the first night of the Ramis … which was only one night away according to our researcher’s findings.   He also indicated that he felt that the death was not simply theatre, but necessary to extract the energy from the life-force of the victims, though he does not explain his reason for this comment.   We had not mentioned the statue in our original communications with him, we had simply requested information on the knife under the pretense that we may have come across it and wanted more details about it because it was not really our forte.  And neither had we given any indication where we were presently based.  Admittedly, it was a warning, not an enquiry about our dig, and we were the beneficiaries of the warning, but we could not help but wonder whether he had guessed what we had come across, or … .”

Vittorio flapped his arms in dismay as he failed to finish his sentence and Joseph was of the opinion that he had been worried that his friend had been compromised by one of the newcomers to the search for the statue.

“The contents of the warning made us consider that there was a good chance that our findings and whereabouts may have already been discovered,”  Vittorio  continued, “and unfortunately the museum was not going to collect the items for another two weeks, so we decided to move the statue to a new location to be on the safe side.

Before we had departed for England my brother had personally arranged production of the box that would house the statue on its journey to the farm.  The container was purposely designed and built to allow us to unpack it ourselves without any help when it arrived in England; disassemble it, store it, and eventually reuse it to send the statue to whichever museum would end up with it … all done by just the two of us.

For security reasons we had dismissed our helpers at the site before we had the statue crated for delivery to England.  The box had been sealed before it left the site and the seals were still intact when it arrived.  We had hired an import-export company in London that we knew we could trust to make the arrangements to deliver the statue to the farm discretely.”

Joseph and Mary both winced at this statement as they remembered the strange event that had taken place at Johnson’s only a few days earlier, Joseph in particular who suddenly remembered where he had heard the name Tuscanni before, and Trenthamville as well, and that brought back realistic memories of what he had seen that day.  And as the memories arrived, the truth of his involvement with the Punjaniti was reinforced.   But neither one of them expressed their surprise at the connection, and nor did they say anything lest it distracted Vittorio.

“And while we were waiting for it to arrive,”  Vittorio went on, “we created a special stand to rest the statue on as we removed the container and, eventually, we used it to work on the statue.  We had created a false workbench cover to hide the statue whenever we weren’t physically present in the vicinity, and we had set up a series of warning cameras and alarm systems that completely surrounded the barn.   As far as we were concerned nobody had managed to penetrate our security, so we seriously doubted that anybody had been able to ascertain the whereabouts of the statue, and therefore had not verified its presence on the farm.    But after we received the warning from our friend we decided to give it a far better hiding place and my brother came up with a brilliant idea.   It did mean moving it not very far from its original hiding place, but it took quite a while to prepare the new one so it would not appear in any way conspicuous.   And it was then, when we had completely finished moving the statue into its new hiding place, and reassembled the old one to make it also inconspicuous, that we received the second e-mail from our fellow researcher whose message rocked our world.   He had e-mailed us to point out that there was an international time-line between us that he hadn’t taken into account … the ceremony wasn’t taking place the next day our time … it was, in fact, only a few hours away.  Thank god we had acted immediately … or things could have gone far, far worse than it did.  Even then we were fortunate that the witches had not thought to break into the barn while we were moving the statue … or the Punjaniti may have already arrived and enslaved us all.  But there was a second warning, a warning that was once a warning of a back up plan for the Punjaniti … now it is a warning of the most intimate danger.   The warning said that in the event of the first attempted arrival of the Punjaniti failing, it will be followed up by a second attempt – and the date of the next attempt is tomorrow night!

The mouths of every member of the small group with the exception of Vittorio were wide open, and their eyes threatened to pop right out of their head, but Vittorio did not give them the chance to ask questions as he immediately continued with his narrative.

“This is why I say the witches will be back.  And this is what worries me about my friend.   How would he know that the witches, or any group for that matter, knew that we had the knife, and possibly the statue, unless he himself was involved in the Punjaniti’s arrival, and if that is so … then why bother warning us?  Something is not right.  We had gone to great lengths to protect the statue’s existence and whereabouts from anybody that may have had an interest in it since the day that fate had decreed that we should find it.

At first our greatest fear even back then had been that an unscrupulous dealer or collector may try to steal it and it would end up locked away from the world as a result.   Then, as we began to find out more about the origins of the statue, the more concerned we had become about our own safety when we realised the type of people that would be interested in owning it for what they hoped they could gain from it, or even worse, to submit to its powers … to attempt to make contact with its originator.   We didn’t discover it accidentally, you know.   It was found by somebody who gave us a gift we had never expected to receive in our life time.”

Vittorio’s eyes began to shift around the barn as he spoke, as if he was frightened that unseen ears were listening, while Joseph’s ego was further chuffed by the realisation that his own instincts had been right about the construction of the storage box.  To Joseph, everything that Vittorio was revealing was reinforcing proof that he, Joseph Jacobson, was deeply involved in this happening … very deeply involved, and probably knew a lot more than his mind and memories were letting on.   However, he didn’t want to know anything more for the moment.   To Joseph’s current way of thinking, the less he knew, the safer he was, because he still didn’t know who he could truly trust.

“A local goat herder came to visit us at our digs one night with a tale about a mysterious and hithero unknown god who went by the name of the Punjaniti, who had formed a band of thieves several hundred of years ago,” Vittorio began, “and this god had given them protection in order for them to carry out robberies so they could build a statue to his specifications.  When the statue was finished there was to be some sort of ceremony that would allow this god to enter our dimension as a living, breathing, tyrannical Super-God, who would go on to rule the world and suck nearly every piece of goodness out of it.   It would appear that the Punjaniti was a powerful entity in the right conditions, but its abilities in this world were restricted by those that protected the dimensions and boundaries that separated our planet from wherever the entity resided.  The statue, however, had some sort of power that would allow the Punjaniti to overcome the restrictions and enter the Earth.”

“This must be what William spoke of.”   Martin whispered, but was quickly silenced by Joseph placing a finger on his lips, and Mary was beside herself at the realisation that what Vittorio was saying was a confirmation of what Doctor James had told her the previous evening.

“The Punjaniti has found a way to communicate with humans when it wished to, even though it cannot physically gain entry to the planet…  and it can have a virtual reality projection of itself gain entry.  It has also found a way to use its mental powers on the planet when required.  It cannot do so for long, but usually long enough to achieve a particular task such as protecting its followers from the law.

This god individually made verbal contact with one hundred villains who swore allegiance to him, and he promised them wealth beyond imagination in return for their allegiance.   He had already recruited a rogue priest to lead them on his behalf.   He had told his mercenery soldiers that they would refer to themselves as the Punjani and their duties were to follow the orders he gave to the priest.   They were to perform robberies, and the occasional murder, in order to obtain the wealth that would be required to manufacture a statue of the Punjaniti itself; a man sized statue made of gold and covered with rubies and diamonds.  The robberies were always well planned, which was just as well, for the majority of the establishments they attacked were well fortified and heavily protected.   That had been the reason for the need to employ one hundred members; strength and superiority in numbers.  The robberies had always been undertaken without a blemish, the Punjani always received perfect instructions and plans of the establishment they were to attack and rob.   And when they made their getaways they were well protected by the Punjaniti who could cause natural disasters to rise from dark shadows and create obstacles for those that would dare pursue his followers.  Sandstorms would suddenly be whipped up between the escaping members of the Punjaniti and the hapless guards who tried to give chase, even though there had not been a breath of wind in the air before the thieves had begun their getaway.   Sinkholes would suddenly appear swallowing the pursuing guardsalong with their horses and camels .. and so on.

Since the inception of the Punjani, the cult that he had created, the Punjaniti had been able to protect the murderous gang of thieves that were his followers from danger whenever he sent them on a task, but he was not able to continually watch each one individually.  Otherwise he would have been able to avoid the incident where one of them sold out his fellow followers to the soldiers of the government and the statue was stolen and lost to history.   Legend has it that a handful of loyal followers, including the priest that the Punjaniti had recruited as his second-in-command, escaped, and they fled to unknown parts where the Punjaniti still protects them and their wealth to this very day while it patiently awaits the discovery and return of its gateway.

This man that came to our site said that he had discovered the location of a statue, claiming it was the missing statue of the Punjaniti, and asked if we were interested in claiming the discovery for ourselves.  When he finished telling us about the background of the Punjaniti, we most certainly were interested and agreed to his terms, which were quite reasonable, on the condition that we did not pay him until we actually saw the statue, and he agreed to this request.  To be perfectly honest, we had never heard of this Punjaniti before that day and we were highly dubious of his story, but we weren’t making much progress where we were so we had decided that we were going to lose nothing by checking out his story.

As it was nearly dusk when he arrived at the camp it was agreed that he would remain at our camp overnight, and we left at first light the next morning to see his unique find which was located about three miles from our dig.  Our hearts leapt with joy when he took us to the cave in the mountains at the desert’s end and we saw the partially exposed jewel encrusted golden body lying on the floor amongst a pile of stones.  It only took us a couple of moments, combined with some very enthusiastic digging with the tools we had brought with us, to confirm that it was indeed a large statue.

To this very day I will never understand why we didn’t ask him how he knew that this was the statue of the Punjaniti.  We simply accepted his story; we were so excited and taken with this discovery that it never occurred to us how bizarre the whole thing was.  For a perfect stranger to approach us offering us the discovery of a lifetime, when reality would expect the man to either claim the discovery for himself, or at the very least, dismember the statue and sell the gold and jewels   He said at the time that he was but a simple goat herder, and that was all that he required of life.   He said that it had been a serendipitous accident that he had discovered the statue, in fact it was as a result of one of his goats wandering into the cave that he had come across the statue.   He also offered, for the price of a single ruby each, some villagers we could trust implicitly to help bring the statue out of the cave so that we could pack and ship it.  The fee was to go towards their children’s education.   We had nothing to lose so we took him up on his offer.   We took the measurements and approximated the weight.  Then Roberto and the man who had discovered the statue drove into a neighbouring village where they arranged the manufacture of the box Roberto had designed.   Within five days of being shown the statue we had dug it out of its muddy coffin, packed it in its new temporary accommodation, took it to the freight office and despatched it by the sixth.

The villagers that had been brought in to help went about their business and never asked questions, seemingly content with the ruby each one of them would receive.   This, in retrospect of course, was also very strange.   And so was the fact that when we found some human bones buried with the statue, not one of them flinched.   I would have thought that they would have been superstitious about disturbing a grave and refused to work on the dig as we had encountered with workers on other sites we had worked on.   But it didn’t seem to bother them at all.   Instead they retrieved all the bones that they could find and gave them a decent funeral in the cave, then never mentioned them again.  Actually, in retrospect the whole affair seems an unlikely event, but unfortunately discoveries of this importance are a rarity in the life of an archaeologist, and I am afraid we just got carried away with the whole thing.   It was only afterwards, when we arrived here at the farm; as we waited for the arrival of the statue, that we began to do some real research into the Punjaniti and the Punjani on the internet, and that led us into thinking about how everything had unfolded to bring us to the farm.   It was then that we started to think about our achievement and began to put bigger pieces of a jigsaw together.  It was then that we realized how easy it had all been; how easily it had gone through customs at both ends.  We had been breaking rules left, right and centre in our adrenaline induced, intoxicated state; but we were not trying to break the law, in fact we hadn’t even thought about obtaining legal authority to move the statue which should have been our number one priority.   We were just so excited by our find we temporarily lost control of our rationality, and by this stage we couldn’t turn back.   We were exporting possibly one of the biggest finds of the twenty first century without any acknowledgement to the country that it had been located in, knowing that it was illegal to do so.  God only knows the trouble that we could have landed in, never mind the embarrassment we could have brought to Italy and Great Britain because of our impetuous behaviour if somebody had intervened in what we were doing … if somebody had reported us to the authorities … .  But, no, some serendipitous moment had arrived in our lives … or some unscrupulous villain had used us a patsies and taken us for a gigantic ride.   But, whichever … we had gotten away with it.  And now, the sooner the museum took the statue off our hands the better of we would feel.   After all, we weren’t selling it to the museum, we were giving it to them.   The only negotiations that had taken place concerned insurance and security once it had been handed over to them.  My brother and I have no need for more money … we already have more than enough.   We had just wanted to see a unique, almost unknown, piece of our beautiful world’s past made available for all to see.  But our thoughts now were quickly moving in on the idea of it never to be seen again.  Destroyed perhaps, but mainly on it never being in a situation where the creature could get access to it.

And this was the bane of our situation.  Getting rid of the statue was now only one little part of our overall problem.  The more that we discovered about the Punjaniti, the more we feared what may happen, because a lot of our research indicated that the Punjaniti and the Punjani were not only still active, the beast now seemed to have a chance to locate its missing point of entry.   We wondered if that meant that the beast was on its way, and if that was the case, did that mean our lives may be in danger.   Not jut our lives, but perhaps nearly every man, woman and child on the planet.  By the time that the museum made an offer on the statue we couldn’t wait to be rid of it.   By this stage we had begun to understand that we had been set up by someone to get the items here, but we had no idea who it had been.  We, of course, realized that the man who had contacted us in the first place was involved, but who else was involved …and why?

And then we had a new problem.  I said earlier that we had security devises installed.  Well as a result we knew that for some time just after we arrived at the farm somebody had been spying on us, for we had seen one or two figures trying to hide themselves behind the trees across the driveway several times.  We used to set off one or two of the alarm systems closest to them and watch them on the monitors  scampering  away with their tails between their legs.   This stopped for a couple of days, but their courage must have returned … for so did they.   This time, however, as we had became more concerned about who, or what, was behind using us to remove the statue from its resting ground, we decided to discourage whoever it was that was hanging around from hanging around … and achieve it on a permanent basis.  We achieved this by taking the occasional pot shots at the tree where they were hiding.   It was perfectly safe.  We are both expert marksmen with a rifle, and the monitors had shown us exactly where they were.  We always pretended that we hadn’t seen them and were only having some fun shooting down the branches, but we certainly let some of the bullets come close enough for them to change the colour and dryness of their trousers.  Eventually we thought that they had got the message as we hadn’t seen anyone since …until the night of the strange light, that is.  But when we saw them that night it was too late … they were already in the house..

On the day that we moved the statue we had undertaken  a thorough check of all our equipment ensuring every alarm and monitor was turned on and working so we would have been prepared for any attempt to enter the barn … what we hadn’t been prepared for was anybody entering the farmhouse.

As we were returning to the house it was minutes from total darkness, the light from the front door of the farmhouse was all we had to guide us,everything else including the house itself was in darkness and I managed to trip over a rabbit hole or something.  I never actually saw what it was, but I ended up lying on the ground.  Roberto stopped, and was starting to reach down to help me up when he noticed someone hiding behind a tree.  He called out, but the figure fired something that caused Roberto to collapse before running off into the darkness of the woods.   I managed to get myself up, and went to Roberto’s aid.  He was lying there, gasping and grasping at his throat.  I pulled his hands away and in the half-light I could see some kind of spur stuck in his neck.  My instinct told me that this had caused his collapse and it could still be lethal.  I reached inside my pocket and got out a handkerchief, which I wrapped as thickly as I could around the object, and carefully pulled it out.  I tried to get him on his feet but he was writhing about too much, so I put my coat around him and ran back to the house to call the doctor.

The house had seemed to be in complete darkness from the outside as we approached it from the barn, and that included the door on that side of the house which opens into the small corridor that leads up to the entrance to the main room.   It is the only light outside of the bathroom that we need to turn on in the morning.   That is because it gets no outside light.   We normally leave our boots and coats on a rack and small stand about halfway up the corridor if it has been raining, or we have gotten a lot of dirt on our boots for one reason or another.  The light needs to be turned on to find them and find our way out … and we quite often left it turned on all day by accident, so when I opened it and it was on, it did not surprise me.  As it turned out so were all the lights in the main room.  However, I didn’t notice the main room lights were on at the time because the light in the corridor was turned on, and the light from both rooms merged into one.

Of course it would have been different if the corridor light had been turned off, I would have been much more cautious, but it wasn’t and I was busy trying to think if we had a doctor’s number in the house.   I had Roberto in my mind, not unwelcome visitors, and I didn’t really did know the doctor’s phone number.  I was scratching my head at first,  not knowing what to do when I remembered when we first arrived in the village being told by the real estate agent that there was a hospital in the village and I could call them or the police on nine nine nine.  But I only managed to get as far as giving the operator my name, and the name of the farm, before beginning to explain my brother’s condition, when two hooded men dressed in white robes grabbed hold of me and restrained my movements.  I tried to struggle, but it was useless.   They half pulled, half pushed, me into the main room and it was then that I saw there were a dozen or more figures, all  similarly dressed, slowly moving around in a circle, chanting quietly as they moved.  And it was then that I noticed that all the curtains had been drawn which was why I had not noticed the lights inside the house were all turned on … and they shouldn’t have been because we  had spent the entire day inside the barn.   By the time we both got out of bed in the morning it had been light outside.   We didn’t need to turn on the lights, we simply had to pull the curtains back.  And had we seen the lights sooner we would have become suspicious and cautious in our movements … and we would certainly have gone back to the barn and retrieved our rifles.

“But the curtains were all open when I arrived.”   Harvey interjected without thinking of the possible consequences of interrupting Vittorio in his fragile state.   However, fortunately for all of them, Vittorio did not go off the rails.   Instead he responded with relevance to the statement.

“You are correct, however that had not been the case when I first entered the house.  But as the two witches now held me in a position that allowed me to see what was going on in the room … things quickly changed.  I was horrified by the scene that confronted me.   In the centre of the circle, resting on a red cushion, was the Punjaniti’s scabbard which they had somehow located from its hiding place.   The cushion was held at chest height by someone whose face I couldn’t see because they too were covered head to foot inside a hooded cloak.  But what frightened me the most was what I saw at the foot of this unidentified person.  Lying on the carpet – his eyes squeezed tight in terror – was a young man of about eighteen years of age, whose body was totally naked.  His feet and hands were bound in front of him, and his mouth taped.  Beside him on either side two young women roughly the same age were also tied up in a similar manner.  I was horrified at the thoughts that my mind conjured up for their future, but my instincts refrained me from even thinking about helping them; warned me to not take my eyes off the figure with the knife, to instead look for the first chance of escape offered to me.  That was a feeling that I cannot forget, for every bone in my body was warning me that an even greater danger than the witches that confronted me was fast approaching … and I would truly need both luck and my wits about me should I wish to survive the carnage that was coming.

And it immediately proved to be the right option, because at that very moment the chant that came from those that created the circle began to rise in pitch and volume.  And as the chanting rose somebody ripped the curtains open and a strange light that seemed to grow from the ground below the window could now be clearly seen through the windows as it passed upwards towards the sky.  Suddenly, the one in the middle of the circle let the cushion fall to the floor as he raised the knife high into the air high above his head.   Then, both hands firmly clasped on the handle, calling out something in a language I did not understand, he dropped down onto his knees in front of the trembling boy.  The witch then raised his head upwards and again screamed out something totally indecipherable at the top of his voice.   At the precise same second the chanting suddenly reached a crescendo that was on the side of deafening, and the witch rammed the knife downward and into the chest of the young man whose scream could still be heard in all its pain and agony as it pierced the now silent room – despite the tape restrictions tightly bound around his mouth.   And the girls also silently screamed in absolute terror as they felt his warm, glistening, blood splatter over their naked bodies.”

Mary winced and found herself on the point of being sick, while the men found themselves to be speechless.   But Vittorio continued, his voice now beginning to quaver badly as he spoke in obvious distress at what he was recalling, and Joseph wondered just how much longer his coherency would last.

“I could not bear to watch any more than that I had already witnessed, but one of the witches holding me forced my head to face the direction of the vile attack, but he could not force me from squeezing my eyes shut.  This all happened in the few minutes that the two witches had held me at the back of the room, otherwise I may not have survived to tell you this story.   The very instant that the knife entered the young man’s body the extremely bright, white light that seemed to be coming up from the ground outside the house spilt into the room through the windows.  The entire room filled with an unbelievable brilliance.   So bright was the light now that I didn’t know whether there was too much power being fed into the bulbs, or it was coming from the fires of hell.   Then fireballs and sparks began to fly out from the walls, all reigning down upon the young man and the two girls who lay on the carpet, and a face, oh my god, this face – the face of the devil itself began to come through the wall and into the room.   Garbled words from this thing before my eyes roared through the house, a deafening roar that, along with the chaos that was ensuing, made it impossible for me to comprehend what it was saying.   My captors released their grip on me instantly and I thought that they were going to feed me to the creature, but instead they turned and ran out of the house as fast as they could.   I took the opportunity to escape and followed them out, only I ran towards the woods while they ran to the roadway.   There was nothing that I could have done for the three that were tied up.  I had considered for a moment to try and save them, using the confusion that was taking place in the room as a cover, but their bodies had disappeared.  All I could see where they had lain was nothing but hot, glowing embers.   I had no choice but to follow the two witches that had held me prisoner out of the closest door, but the woods seemed a far safer place to be than in the open space where they ran, and that was where I was headed.  But as as soon as I thought it safe I made my way back to where Roberto had been lying.

Fortunately for me, nobody seemed not to have followed me, but when I arrived to where I had left Roberto, he was nowhere to be found.   I searched throughout the night but to no avail.  Finally exhaustion overcame me and I collapsed somewhere in the woods.  I don’t know how long I slept, but when I awoke – dawn was breaking.   I made my way back to the farm only to find people from the village crawling all over it.

They could very well have been the witches returning for all I knew.   After the previous night I did not trust anybody, and they had all been wearing hoods over their faces, so I wouldn’t recognise them even if they were in the crowd.  I was surprised that the place wasn’t crawling with police after what happened to the young boy, but it suited me fine that they weren’t.  I hid out of sight until I was certain that the crowd had all left, and then I moved into this barn.  We had some provisions stored here, and there was plenty to drink in that old fridge there.  He pointed, indicating a small fridge just inside the doorway.   “So I was able to eat something each day, but it was nothing like the meals your wife made, Harvey.” he said looking at Harvey who grinned at the statement.  “I always hid the cans after I had eaten so no one would realize that someone was living here, and I just waited for them to come back.”

“The witches?”  Joseph asked in a soft, calm voice.

“Yes.”

‘These witches … you really expect they will return?”

“Yes.”

“And what were you going to do when they come?”

“Kill them,” Vittorio stated; his voice soft and passive, almost matter-of-fact.

Why?”

“They are murderers.  They have already killed.  They killed that young man, or at least they tried to.   Maybe he didn’t die, but they certainly tried to kill him.  They were certainly going to kill the girls next, perhaps even feed them to that creature if it hadn’t turned on them.  They may have killed Roberto for all I knew.   I presume he is dead.   He hasn’t returned to the farm, and he certainly wouldn’t have deserted me.  But the witches will try again to call back that demon.  They don’t know what they are dealing with.  I am absolutely certain that they have never heard of the Punjaniti.   They think that they are calling something else up, something far less volatile, but it doesn’t matter.  There is no way possible for them to control it.  It will destroy them, as it will destroy every living thing on the planet.   it is better that they are all destroyed before things end up in a disaster unlike anything that man has ever seen.  These devil worshippers are not people that one can talk to reasonably, they are like men and women possessed, and what they are possessed with is a thirst for the Devil itself.  I have no doubts on their ruthlessness.   Especially after I was a witness to what they did to that young man.  They will be back, and they will try again.  They must be stopped.”

“But it would still be murder, Vittorio.”  Joseph interrupted,  “No matter how you try to justify it.  However, I really doubt that they will be back.”

Vittorio looked suspiciously at Joseph.  “How can you be so certain that they won’t be back?   You weren’t witness to their atrocities.  You didn’t see the things that they were doing here.  They will be back!”  Vittorio’s voice became louder and angrier with every word he spoke; every syllable and vowel spat out with emotion.

“Relax, Vittorio … just relax.”  Joseph re-approached the subject with gentleness in his voice, but panic in his heart.   Time was running out, possibly for both themselves … and Vittorio.   He knew instinctively that this may be the only time possible to retrieve the information from Vittorio about the statue, but he would still have to be subtle,   “Vittorio, we don’t know how, but we believe that the flames that you saw coming out of the wall actually killed most of the people in that room.  Only a few, besides you, may have escaped.  And I really don’t think that they will come back here again.  I should imagine that they too are bordering on insanity at this very moment.   Now, Vittorio, you need to listen very carefully to me this time.  I mentioned it earlier but you were too interested in finding out about Rosetta.  Your brother Roberto is in hospital.   The police found him wandering down a road a fair distance from the farm, but he fell into a coma before he could tell them anything.   He had been injected with a very rare drug and there is only one way that we can obtain the antidote.”

“Roberto, he is ill.   He is in hospital.   I must see him.   Take me there now, please.”

“We can do that Vittorio, but you will not be able to talk to him.  He is not expected to ever recover without the antidote, and we need your help to obtain it.  We need to locate the statue and exchange it for the antidote.   It is entirely possible that Rosetta will need the same medication.   There is no other way.   Once we get Roberto and Rosetta back on their feet we will do whatever we can to destroy the statue before it is too late.   But, please, Vittorio … we need to know where you have hidden the statue.   We truly, really need it as quickly as you can advise us.

Vittorio was surprised by this new information.  He let it sink in and thought about it for a while before continuing.

“You are right.  I will tell you where it is in one moment.  Despite my dislike and distrust of the witches and the punjani, Roberto’s life must come first.”

Joseph was beside himself.   One minute, one more minute … that is all that it would take to wrap this thing up.   One minute and he could retrieve the missing statue, get the antidote and head back to London.   One minute …, but Vittorio had one more moment of hesitation to offer before surrendering the prize that Joseph and Martin so desperately wanted

“There was also a third, possible, warning on the e-mail.”  Vittorio went on, “Our friend thought that somebody had found out about our discovery and were trying to obtain it the easy way.”

“Did they say who it was?”

“Yes.  It was …” But Vittorio never got the chance to finish his sentence.  The bullet grazed Joseph’s arm and slammed into Vittorio’s chest sending him reeling backwards towards the floor, hitting his head on a post as he fell, and instantly knocking him unconscious.

The three men quickly swung around in search of the gunman.   Suddenly a noise of something hitting the floor caught their attention just in time for them to see a rather chubby silhouette exiting the barn.

“Stay here, Mary.”   Joseph ordered, “See if you can stop that bleeding.   The three men, perhaps foolishly, then ran out of the barn and round the side towards the unknown.  They turned the corner just in time to see a figure disappear over the hill at the back of the long barn, but before they reached the halfway mark they saw the large limousine heading up the driveway towards the road.  By the time they reached the top, the sound of a car speeding in the distance was all they could make of the assailant.

“Well, its a waste of time of chasing him.” Harvey noted, “He could be anywhere by the time we got on the road.   But there is also a good chance that if he has returned to the village that we will find him.  Well, come on boys, let us see how our friend Vittorio is getting on.

As the three men walked back to the open barn door Harvey rang for the ambulance, but the apparent condition of Vittorio made him wonder if the hapless man would even survive the trip back to the village.

Joseph had a similar thought, only he extended the thought to the loss of communication with Vittorio as well.  He knew that he had been so close to obtaining the location of the statue when Vittorio had been shot, but at least he had indicated that the statue was still close by … possibly still in the barn somewhere.  They would just have to search harder.   And it was at this point that Joseph felt the strange warmth on his arm and turned his head to see what was going on … and nearly passed out in shock to see the blood that saturated his coat sleeve as he realised if the bullet had been several inches further to his left, it might very well have been his heart that it had entered.

********

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Episode 44

PARTS 1 – 10

PART 1

As they approached the farmhouse both Joseph and Martin were surprised to see Mary had already arrived at the farm, and even further surprised to see that there was someone else waiting with her.

“I hope this won’t mean trouble.”   Martin mumbled gruffly as he pulled the car to a stop not too far from where Mary’s car was parked,   “How are we going to handle this?  We certainly haven’t got a lot of time for civilities at the moment.   And if he is the police … Well, how are we going to proceed?”

“Don’t fret so, Martin.”   Joseph replied with a hint of cynicism,   “He could be anybody … and whoever he is, we’ll stick to our story and agenda regardless.   After all, we do have some legitimacy to be here.  All we need to say is the truth – we are here to collect Rosetta’s father’s personal effects.   It’s not a roped off area … it is not being treated as a crime scene, or isn’t as far as we are aware.   In fact I doubt that the Trenthamville police even care what happened here at the farm.   The fact that they failed to ensure the fire was fully extinguished leads me to thinking that way.   I have no idea what their agenda may be, they may even be witches themselves for all I know.    And if that is the case, then we certainly don’t want to elaborate on just what it is that we are collecting … or at least what we are trying to collect; an ancient gold statue representing some implausible supernatural being that wants to take over our world.   As far as this stranger is concerned we are just collecting personal items and anything else that we think the Professor would want to be in a safe environment.  I’d much prefer not to be discussing the possibility of dead witches still smouldering on the carpet, or creatures from space and their followers.   In fact, I would prefer to push those thoughts out of my mind permanently, find this stupid statue, and get back to London as fast as I can.”

The hardly subtle bitterness in Joseph’s words was not lost to Martin’s ears.   He looked hard at his friend and wondered just how disillusioned Joseph was becoming with this case.   Not that he could blame him.   The events that seemed to be taking place around them were certainly nothing like anything he himself had encountered before … and he had had some strange situations to deal with over the years.   “I take it that we aren’t going to mention that we have less than forty eight or so hours to save the world either?”   He asked in a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood, but Joseph ignored his question and Martin decided that it would be more prudent to drop the subject for the moment.   He would find time later to check on Joseph’s true feelings on completing their task; at the moment all he could do was observe and hope.

The two men got out of the car and walked over to where Mary was waiting, and as they did Mary moved quickly towards them, clasping her hands around Joseph’s wrists the minute she was close enough to do so.

“I’m sorry to hear about your friend Rosetta.”  Mary said softly,   “The hotel manager mentioned her condition as I was leaving the hotel.  He said that she had been taken ill and the doctor had been called in.   And he also said that she was in a comatose state.   Will she be all right?”

“Yes,” Joseph replied,   “The doctor said she should recover in a day or so.  Let’s hope that he is right.”

Suddenly, an extremely bright light silently, momentarily, exploded out of the ground behind where Joseph was standing facing the small group.   A light so brilliant it could have blinded them all for some time afterwards should they have been looking directly at it.   But they were all saved from that fate by the unexpected distraction that had occurred beneath their feet a millisecond beforehand, all, that is, with the exception of the stranger whose eyes managed  to take in the entire blast.   For the others, a loud, rumble erupted from within the ground below and dispensed itself into their ears, and the accompanying vibrations arrived so violently Mary lost her balance and fell so heavily into Joseph’s chest she threatened to take him down with her.    Joseph, however, somehow managed to retain his balance and pulled her in even closer to his body to help her settle down.   But while Joseph was wrestling with Mary his eyes were distracted from the images of the three people that faced him, and so he failed to see the flicker of transformation that rolled across the stranger’s eyes; an extraordinarily fast transmutation of colour from sky blue to a glazed, diluted, version of itself.  Then in an instant changing to a vibrant red, before becoming the darkest black, then yellow … and then back to its original colour again.   But he did, momentarily, feel the strange electrical tickle that emitted from the stranger pointed finger to his left hand.   Not a painful or a burning shock as would happen if he touched pure electricity, simply a sensation that for far less than a second ran from his hands, upward through his body, and ended in his brain; an occurrence that took place so quickly it had completed its mission without his even having had time to be certain that he really had felt something in the first place.

“Oh, I am sorry, Joseph.   That is the second shock in the past few minutes that we have felt, only this time it was worse.  The last one happened not long before I saw you and Martin coming down the driveway.   Thank you for saving me.  Did I hurt you?   I felt that I fell very heavy for you … on you.”  Mary asked as she looked deep into his eyes, a slight coy smile in her eyes at her gaffe.

“No.   I am fine, thank you, Mary.”   Joseph found himself unable to fully relax in the position that were currently in, however, his body and mind seemed not quite willing to relinquish it just yet.

“I hope not, Joseph; to hurt you would be the last thing that I would ever want to do.”   Her head cocked coyly to one side; her large, soft blue eyes perfect for the image she wished to present to Joseph, Mary began to release her grip on his hands, and slowly, wistfully, move away from him.   The longish nails on her carefully manicured fingers, now extended to their fullest, moved sensually over the palm of his open hand, taking extremely slow steps backwards to ensure the moment was not lost prematurely.    And as she moved she did not take her eyes off him – not even for a split second.   Then, when she got to a point where both their arms were at full stretch, where only the tips of their fingers still touched, in one smooth, unhurried motion, her grip around his wrists was suddenly firmly re-established … and Joseph found himself pulling her in so close to him their faces were but inches from physical contact.   Joseph was feeling both happy and settled, and uncomfortable and confused at the same time.   But when Mary spoke again; spoke in that soft, soothing tone, Joseph could feel his mind and emotions drifting at an ever increasing speed towards the former.

“I am so glad that I ran into you down here in Trenthamville.”    Her composure was soft, happy; confident of reciprocation to the words she spoke,   “I don’t think that I have ever felt as I do right at this very moment.   I am so very, very happy how this trip has turned out; Happy that I am getting to know you so very well, sweet Joseph … so very, very happy in my life.    You do know that you and I could be as one … now that Rosetta has gone from your life.  Would you like that?”

Despite his current mood; Despite his reason for being at the farm, and despite the difficulty he was now having in dealing with the situation he had once considered fortuitous to have found himself in, Joseph now found a sudden sense of comfort, of security, enshrouding him, and it all seemed to be generating from Mary’s presence.

Joseph began to feel impervious to his worries and decided that it was time to re-approach his current view to life.   He began to feel dreamy and it felt comfortable, very comfortable.   ‘Mary could replace Rosetta in my life’. He began to realise, ‘Then all would be well again’.   Her presence in my world would rekindle the urge to finish the job.   I could, no … I would … no, I will continue to search for the statue.   She will give me the inspiration to succeed, and succeed I will.  Oh, this is so wonderful.   For her I would give my life in pursuit of her requirement for success.’

But as Joseph’s seduced mind began to process this new, magnificent world that was opening up before him, for no apparent reason, his eyes began to glaze.  Mary suddenly began to blur in his vision and he shook his head to regain focus.   ‘Where is she?’   He asked himself as sweat began pouring from his neck and from under his arms.   He could feel his heart beating wildly, and panic begun to encompass him to the point that he began to shake – when suddenly he saw her.   ‘Oh yes, there she is, pretty and reliable as ever … and smiling.’ he exclaimed in relief to no one in particular,   ‘That is right.  Mary is always smiling.   She is such a pleasure to behold; she makes me feel so safe.   Sooooooooooo safe.’

However, no sooner had Joseph rediscovered her presence, when Mary’s face began to blur again.   Red smoke began to fill the space she had occupied, and once again Joseph’s world was one of indescribable panic.

‘No!‘  His voice screamed through his head, but it was no use … she had gone.

The seconds ticked by and all Joseph could see before him was red dust, or smoke, or whatever it was that completely blocked his vision.   Joseph had no idea what it was he saw, but he was certain that it was red.   His ability to smell was no longer functioning, his hearing was gone, and his vision impaired.   And he could not move a muscle.   All he could do was to stare blankly at the redness that confronted him.   And then to make matters worse, Joseph was feeling dizzy and was absolutely certain that he was about to pass out.   His eyes began to close, and he could feel his body trembling as he began to fall, but his head suddenly jerked forward and his eyes snapped wide open, and once again he was staring into a red fog.   And in the fog his befuddled mind thought it saw the shape of a large face, with eyes that … that …, but it was gone so fast he knew he must have imagined it.   Then the dizziness returned, as did the closing of the eyes and the trembling as his knees began to buckle under him again.   Then again his head rolled forward, again his eyes snapped open and the redness of his surroundings returned to his vision.   Something buried deep in Joseph’s memory cave awoke and Joseph realised that whatever was going on, he was automatically trying to resist it … and that gave him the strength to join in and fight whatever was attacking his senses.   He snapped his eyes shut and squeezed them as hard as his mind would allow him, while at the same time he ordered his mind to free itself from whatever was trying to control it.   The sudden cavalcade of light that began flashing inside his head assured him that there was a battle of sorts taking place for control, but it was not a battle that he knew how to fight.   Everything he was doing was based purely on new found instincts as they came into his head.

   SUDDENLY HIS EYES FLEW OPEN.   THE FOG HAD GONE.    MARY WAS BACK … and then she was gone again.   Joseph began to feel his mind slipping away into oblivion as the image of Mary seemed to continually fade in and out of his vision.    Then his nightmare stopped as Mary stabilised before his eyes.  She WAS back.  ‘Yes! Yes Yes!   He screamed silently, “She IS back!  

And as he screamed for joy within the confines of his mind, Mary began moving towards him once again, her arms outstretched, the smile on her face growing stronger by the second.   She was welcoming him into her arms to comfort him – and the way that Joseph’s mind was feeling at the moment made that action the most beautiful thing that she could ever do to cement their new found love.   He raised his arms as a smile began to charge across his face and their bodies entwined.   Mary slowly, seductively, began to part her lips, moistening them with the tip of her tongue … then she gently placed her hands behind the back of his neck and began to draw him closer, silently inviting him to join with her.   Joseph was now beside himself with happiness.   Ecstasy was waiting and he could feel his heart beating wildly with joy.   But in the very same second, remorse for his disloyalty to Rosetta suddenly took priority over his thoughts.   Joseph knew immediately that what he was doing to Rosetta was not right, especially in the current circumstances.   But Mary was so wanting to protect him, to shower him with love … how could he refuse her offer?   Then Joseph’s heart began to beat so wildly he thought he was about to die as Mary’s face and body once again dissolved back into the fog, but to Joseph’s surprise …  when it cleared, instead of Mary standing in front of him … it was Rosetta that his eyes took in.

Rosetta.   Beautiful, beautiful, Rosetta.   But she was not beautiful today.   Her eyes were black, so very dark and lifeless.    And sunken, so very, very sunken they brought tears to his eyes.   Then the tears began to slowly trickle down her face.     And then they flowed quicker and quicker, but they weren’t tears of salty water … they were tears of BLOOD that began to cover her entire face.!   Joseph could not believe his eyes, could not bring himself to see his beloved Rosetta in this state and closed his eyes in protest.   And it worked, for when he opened them again he was back in Mary’s arms and she drew him in closer and closer, their lips now but a breath away from touching.    Joseph found himself totally succumbing to the charms of this beguiling woman and he was now ready to give his soul should it prove to be necessary to have her by his side forever.

Joseph closed his eyes, relaxed his mind, and succumbed to the final physical forward movement to let his lips and heart be totally consumed by the passion and love that was on offer.    “Mary,” he whispered softly, as he could all but taste the first layer of her waiting lips, “Oh my sweet, sweet, Mary.”   Joseph cupped his hands around the back of her head to gently pull her forward for their lips to join, and ecstasy to begin.   But before the final contact could be made, Joseph found himself in an embarrassing situation.   Before he could feel the pleasure of their first kiss that he was now hurting for, he was forced to pull back from her arms.   His throat had suddenly gone dry; the dryness made him cough.   His nose began to fill with an odour seemingly comprised of sulpher, and other chemicals equally as obnoxious to his senses.   He had no idea what was going on, but it was choking him and he could do nothing but cough and cough.  Eventually, when his body finally allowed itself to return control of itself to him, he once again opened his eyes, but he could not make any sense of what he now saw.

The deep red fog had returned, but it was now swirling savagely in all directions, yet there seemed to be no wind or breeze to create this bizarre phenomenon.   It reminded Joseph of something; a momentarily forgotten memory that still managed to send a cold shiver down his spine, but for the moment he could not make it come any clearer in his mind.   However, ever so slowly, the fog began to evaporate; within a few more seconds it disappeared completely, leaving Joseph with an even bigger mystery to absorb.

Mary was back, but she was now standing some fifty, perhaps seventy yards, perhaps even one hundred yards away from him.   Then, to Joseph’s surprise, he realised that there was now somebody standing between him and Mary; standing only two or three feet in front of her.   And whoever it was, they were facing Mary, their back to Joseph, while Martin was talking to the stranger who was standing at Mary’s side.

Then Joseph’s jaw dropped and his mind really began to freak out when he realised that the person whose back he could see standing in front of Mary all that distance away … was HIMSELF!

*******

EPISODE 48

PART 2

Joseph was gobsmacked when he realised that he was somehow staring at his own back from a distance.   It didn’t make sense to him, but before he could attempt to solve the problem he was unexpectedly distracted; his attention suddenly diverted to a flashing red and gold glow moving at an unnatural speed across the heavens; not slowly, not fast, but certainly at a noticeable speed.   An eerily abnormal light, pulsating within the confines of a small, dark environment … and as it moved ever closer Joseph could see that the light was a series of energy blasts encased in a grey covering somewhat similar to a storm cloud, only slightly different; something more sinister.   It was not a visual sighting that made it seem different to Joseph, it was more of a sensory reaction to what he could feel emitting from it, something that was setting his nerves on edge.   Suddenly it stopped directly above where the small group were standing – and within a split second it began screaming downwards, unmistakably heading towards his double and his friends.   The storm like clouds, with the permanent display of electric discharges within, was causing dark shadows around the small group as it approached at an ever increasing speed.   Yet they seemed oblivious to its presence.   Joseph tried to yell out a warning to them, but he was too far away for them to hear him.   He was fast becoming panic stricken.   He could see their eminent death approaching, but he could not warn them.   His mind so close to breaking point that it was not even dawning on him that his demise was included should the thing make contact with them.    He knew not how the thing would kill them, but every instinct in his body assured him that death was theirs within thirty seconds or less.   Courage alone gave him the sudden decision to run towards them.  To somehow arrive just in time to force them to move out of harm’s way, but when he tried to run – he found that to be impossibility.    For whatever reason, Joseph could not lift a foot, never mind run.   And, it was in this instant, that Joseph finally realised that he too was most likely to pass off this mortal coil, either from where he is currently standing observing the ongoing events, or where he can see himself standing in front of Mary.   He knew at this very moment that all he can do is wonder why it was so that his life came to an end in such a strange and unusual way.

Accepting the fact that he had only seconds of his life on Planet Earth remaining, Joseph stared warmly at his two friends and then let his mind drift off to Rosetta and let it caress her beautiful young face with his eyes as she lay sleeping in her coma … apologising to her for his strange, appalling, behaviour with Mary a few moments earlier.   And as his eyes gazed down upon Rosetta for the last time he could hear the ground that housed his other self and his friends being blasted to smithereens by the force of the impact of the bolts of pure power that were being thrown down upon them; the noise so loud Joseph automatically turned his head back to where he and his friends had appeared a minute earlier, but there was nothing there.    Whatever had actually happened was forever lost to his eyes; completely melded with the flames and red and yellow dust that had already begun to cover them beyond sight.  And it was at this stage Joseph’s heart and mind reached zero hour; zero hour where he finally remembered where he had seen the red smoke that engulfed all before his eyes.   And he immediately recognised the evil, obnoxious, thing that had accompanied it in the ceiling of the garage as it began once again to materalise before his eyes, hovering above the scene of its latest carnage.

The Punjaniti!

********

Episode 48

PART 3

And Joseph once again found himself screaming silently in absolute terror as his heart beat so wildly it threatened to kill him on the spot, and the thing that frightened him the most was not just the creature itself, but the rage that covered the face of this hideous creature as it pounded its fists into the ground over and over again in the spot where his image had been standing a minute or so earlier.   The huge reptilian like fists pounding so hard into the ground Joseph could feel the thick soil shaking beneath his feet even from the distance where he stood.    Suddenly the creature, its fists still embedded in the holes in the ground it was creating in its anger, went down on its knees and raised the upper half of his body high in the air, and in the same action he spun his head in the direction where Joseph was now standing.   The creature stared in Joseph’s direction for several seconds, his cold, dark eyes reeking of uncertainty, while Joseph found himself shaking in absolute terror, having no idea where he could run to, if that was at all possible.   Then in the twinkling of a second, everything clicked in for the creature.   Without warning the colour of the creature’s eyes burst out in savage red and yellow flame, its mouth opened wider than seemed possible, and the huge half-man, half-creature screamed a scream that made every muscle in Joseph’s body turn to jelly.   Joseph may have, for just a moment, felt that he had escaped death, survived the horror that had taken the others, but he now knew that this time there would be no escape.   The gut wrenching sound that escaped from the huge creature’s throat opened every single pore on Joseph’s body, but he was so petrified with fear he had no idea that his clothes were now wringing wet.   The uncontrolled sweat burnt his eyes, blurred his vision; blurred it to the point where he could barely notice the changing scene that was taking place before him.   He could not see his friends anymore, lost in the fire-red and blue tinged cloud of colour that now monopolised the area where they had once stood … nor had his eyes taken in what had happened to them.   And it is more than possible that what had happened to them would have been enough to topple his sanity at that very moment of time had he have been able to witness the attack first hand, rather than simply feel it happen through the vibrations the energy ball blasts had created.   Joseph had been too occupied in his thoughts about Rosetta to have done anything but give her what he knew would be the last second of his life.   And in doing so he had denied himself the horror of seeing the death of his friends, though he was thoroughly amazed to find himself still to be alive.  By the time he had turned his eyes back to his friends there had been nothing to be seen.

‘But for how long?’ he wondered, ‘how long will I live now that it has found me.’  And he was right … the creature had found him.   Joseph watched in absolute amazement as the massive creature lifted its massive body off the ground and into the air as if it was but a leaf in a hurricane – then, in complete contrast to its initial movement, the huge, bulky, mass drifted through the air towards him at the speed of a one legged snail, and every agonising second tore at Joseph’s mind and sanity.

Until this very second in time, unbeknownst to Rosetta and Martin, Joseph had done his utmost to deny himself the existence of anything paranormal going on in the village or here on this farm, even though everything continually pointed to his being wrong.   For every piece of adventure and adrenaline he had garnished from what he had wanted to believe in since he first met Rosetta, reason and reality had always eventually questioned the truth of the day’s events when he was alone in his ‘me’ time; when the pressure of pleasing and appeasing others with agreement were not present, the supernatural aspect was denied.   For some strange reason a singular part of his mind took it upon itself to come up with a reasonable explanation of what, in fact, had taken place in every case … without once accepting the supernatural aspect on offer.   And it did its job with unerring aplomb.   This obstinate part of his mind continually convinced him for certain, that in reality there were no such things as werewolves or vampires, no strange alien creatures that could fly freely through space, or secret cults that worshipped them … and so Joseph dismissed the original impact each strange action had originally had on him and allowed his mind to accept the more plausible offering.

Mind you, this had not been what Joseph had wanted to hear or accept.   Joseph had been smitten with both Rosetta, and the tale she had told, from the very beginning … and he had wanted so much for the entire story to be true and him to be part of it; to be the hero in her eyes.   He had been willing to believe anything offered to him by way of an explanation to an unusual and strange event that had taken place in order to appease his own wants.   But, when he was alone in his thoughts his mind would always conjure up a more reasonable explanation for what he had seen; what he had been told.   And his mind would always find rational answers to deny the existence of the Punjaniti and the Punjani.   However, in the bona fide land of reality, as time passed by, things had gotten out of hand for him, especially after he and Rosetta had been attacked.   Joseph now admitted to himself that he had gotten himself into something far deeper than he knew how to handle and it confused him … and it worried him because he knew that it had to be connected to their search for the statue.   And if that was the case – then it begged the question of how much of the purported supernatural overtone to this case really was a reality, a reality that could not be dismissed regardless of the thoughts of his one track mind.  If the statue was real, then there was every probability that the Punjaniti did exist.   And if it did exist, then … .

This was why he had been so snappy with Martin after their visit to the garage.   As he and Martin had driven towards the farm Joseph had reflected on the preceding events that had confronted him in the garage only minutes earlier,  and he could not believe that he had seen what he had seen in the workshop without his mind considering that he was possibly going insane.   But at the time that it had first happened his mind had had the gall to take it all in its stride.   At that point in time his mind accepted the facts as it saw them; strange things were taking place before his eyes; stranger things still when a hideous monster arrived and tried to kill him – end of discussion.   But now, as usual, long after the event, his mind was already beginning to find acceptable rational excuses for all that had happened over the past night and this morning.   To Joseph’s way of thinking, it was this obsessive compulsion of his brain to find alternative explanations for virtually everything that was taking place in his new life that was frustrating him beyond his ability to cope.  However, it was the attack that had taken place in Rosetta’s room had unsettled him the most, not because they had been attacked, but by the fact that they had been attacked; A planned attack.   Why?   Why were they attacked?    ‘There are a lot of things taking place around us in Trenthamville’, Joseph reasoned, ‘but to be attacked was an incredibly serious business.   It made everything that was going on in the background seem equally as serious … and so dangerous.   And it made everything feel so real, and yet surreal at the same time.  It may just have been meant to frighten them off, but off what?   What were they after … and why go about it the way that they did?   And why place Rosetta in a coma?   Why ever did they do that?’  By the time that Joseph had reached the farm his thoughts were questioning every single thing that had happened to him since he met Rosetta and heard her story, and when his mind finished thinking, it knew that he was suffering from a mental problem and needed help urgently.   Then Joseph began to wonder if perhaps both Rosetta and Martin were also afflicted by the same strain of hallucinatory virus that had clouded over his mind on a regular basis over the last couple of days.   Perhaps he had caught it from them, he wondered?   Joseph took a deep breath, held it for a minute, then closed his eyes and slowly released the air from his lungs in the form of a long and exasperated sigh.

********

EPISODE 48

PART 4

The air released, the action completed, the exasperation of the moment assumedly released, Joseph opened his eyes, and instantly regretted his decision as his eyes once again took in the sight of the huge creature as it continued its irritatingly slow journey towards him.   But the sight of this obnoxious beast was now forcing Joseph to take stock of his thoughts … and to admit that there were some things that couldn’t be explained quite so easily as a hallucination or a trick of the light.    And it was not only what he saw at the moment that worried him; it was everything that was happening to him at this very moment.   Perhaps everything that he had seen, heard, and witnessed over the past few days were not signs of madness; perhaps, in truth, they were actualities.   Perhaps there really were things that could only be explained as being exactly what they seemed to be – no matter how irrational the suggestion seemed at the time.  This creature that was heading toward him looked real; frightened the life out of him, and had even killed his friends.   Yet the creature had attacked him several times now, but it hadn’t killed him yet … so it couldn’t be real, could it?   But there it was coming straight at him never-the less.  It had to be his imagination at work … or was somebody or something protecting him?   ‘Oh, god!   I have no idea whether I should be laughing, or being committed,’   Joseph noted without expecting an answer, ‘It does appear, however, that there are things not of the ordinary that do take place.  It is either that, or I have already reached the point of madness.   Perhaps it is a sign of the truth of the matter either way?   Maybe I am already insane.   Or perhaps the Punjaniti does exist … and he want’s to kill me … but why?   Whichever way it goes I still end up with a massive problem … I either will get committed to an asylum, or the beast will kill me.’

********

Joseph looked upwards towards the slow moving creature as it made its way towards him.   It looked real enough, but the slowness of its movements confused him.   He was certain that this strange, demonic, creature was trying to attack him, but he could not understand why it was taking so long to do so.   Then a thought crossed his mind.  ‘It is like it can’t see me.   Like it knows that I am here somewhere and it is searching for me, but somehow I am invisible to it.   Perhaps I have a chance after all.’ he wondered with all the hope he could muster. “I wonder what would happen if I willed him away?  Oh, god … I am going crazy.   Wherever did that thought come from?  Like, as if.  What what I do?   Pull out my Harry Potter wand, wave it around the air and then yell out ‘Vamooso Punjaniti!”   God, how is this day going to end up?   With me dead, surviving, or simply waking up from a long nightmare? “

For Joseph, after what he had seen this morning, there was becoming too much of a blur between the possible and the impossible for him to deal with; everything was telling him that he had to believe, believe that Punjaniti existed, that the Punjani were real, and there was a missing statue.   He was to believe that what he was going through at the moment was real, not a hallucination.   But if he did so, then this meant that there was every possibility he was about to die.   The creature had sought him out personally, and now it had found him.   The strange events that had preceded this moment were, in fact, events that had really taken place.   He could no longer deny their existence.   The witches, the tales, the Punjani, and the Punjaniti itself all existed.   And now he, himself, had become the centre piece of the next chapter.

Joseph could feel his entire mind and body travelling on a fast train to meltdown as he stared up as much in fascination, as in horror, at the sight of the horrendous monster that stared down in search of him; seemingly, with pure hatred in its eyes.   For an eternity the creature seemed to simply hover menacingly above him, the gigantic wings beating just fast enough to keep itself airborne, but not fast enough to stir the dust that lay on the ground beneath it … and the stench.   The vile smell of rotting dead that emitted from the creature was almost enough to kill Joseph in its own right.    ‘But why was he not attacking?’   Joseph wondered almost in anger at the slow pace of imminent death, ‘Attacked and put out of my misery.’   Joseph felt it was as if the creature wanted to savour every moment of the fear and torture he could inflict upon him, and it was succeeding admirably.

And then, out of nowhere, a grey cloud appeared in Joseph’s vision, a twisting, shifting cloud that began to dissipate almost as soon as it arrived – revealing in its place the same feeling that had occurred at the garage; the feeling of hatred that the creature seemed to have for him.   Joseph truly believed that the creature seemed to have a hatred for him that was bordering on paranoia.   ‘There is no way that isn’t a bit strange.’  Joseph screamed in silence to the belligerent part of his mind that continually caused him so much discontent with its eternal need to ignore the existence of the twilight zone and its inhabitants,   ‘This is twice in as many hours that I have been involved with a visit from this creature; this creature that others refer to as the Punjaniti.   Twice today I have seen him, and twice today he has tried to kill me … and the vision is always coupled with feelings of pleasure and malice in its intent, and the pure hatred of my existence always emits from the creature …    Wake up to yourself, brain.   The Punjaniti exists … and so does the statue.   Rosetta and her father need me to be both sane and reliable, and I will have neither of those assets if I have to listen to you venturing into uncharted waters and offering your untested and ill-informed opinion every five minutes.   There is something going on in my life at the moment that is well and truly out of my hands, and yours too – for that matter.   For some reason, as yet unknown, I have been recruited to help out in their moment of need … and damn it all, that is what I am going to do!   Back off brain and move into the right frame of mind to do battle at my side, and not interfere in things that don’t concern you.   We are in a battle where we have little understanding of what is happening, or where we fit in.   But if we are going to continue to survive we must believe that we are already being guided in some form or other – and our reflexes will kick in when they are required providing we are not continually questioning everything that happens to the one hundredth degree.   What we need to do is analyse what we have learnt so far and open our minds a little further to allow us to really see what we have in front of us … not what we think that we see.   Let us think a little out of the square, and let us allow what we are being shown to reveal itself, rather than us always trying to force answers out of everything we come across.  Then, and only then, will we get the answers that we need to survive … and win.’

Joseph felt in a happy place getting his words out and admitting to himself that the biggest problem he had been facing since he began this mission was trying to accept that he was involved in something different.   To say that he had become infatuated with Rosetta was an understatement of truth, and for her to show reciprocation to his thoughts and wishes blew his mind.   But, at the same time, he was racked by guilt in the unorthodox way he had managed to infiltrate her trust.   And it was the guilt that confounded him; that placed him at risk.   Joseph had surprised himself with the way he had adapted to the strange environment he had now found himself in.   His thoughts in a variety of unusual situations had seemed to have come from nowhere, and most of them had proved correct; things such as the testing of the assumption that the embers in the farmhouse were somehow still active; and possibly controlled by a source or power that was not visible.  Of course, the chicken wasn’t happy at being at the pointy end of a scientific experiment, but, now, Joseph was feeling pretty apathetic about it as well when he realised he had failed to gain anything useful from his action … he had been too wrapped up in the fact that he had been proved to be right, than to concern himself with how he had managed come up with the thought in the first place.   He felt now that he should have attempted to work out why it worked the way that it did, not just accept it and give himself a big pat on the back simply because he had had a brainwave.   In the end he had proved nothing … except maybe his immaturity to the chicken.  Now, in hindsight, he realised that he should have been more worried about what sort of mind had the power to release such a force.   If the Punjaniti had been his prime suspect, regardless of whether or not he actually believed it existed, he should have taken steps to learn more about it.   Much more than the diary had been providing.   Now he realised that he had had ways and means of checking out things that needed to be checked out; Google for one, Martin for another.   Martin was what he thought Joseph to be, and Martin really did have contacts that could have been utilised in order to help them in their quest.   Joseph now realised that because he was only pretending to be whatever Martin really was, his own lies had worried him, and he had concerned himself too much with being caught out, rather than to use the situation to gain answers.

Joseph was learning now to accept the fact that it was not his lies that had taken him so far into the world that he, Martin and Rosetta were currently trapped in, but someone or something else.   He had been selected to perform a special task; he had been asked to help Rosetta and Martin locate the statue, and it would seem that he had agreed to the request.  It mattered not why or how he had been chosen, it was not all about him; the only thing that did matter was that he did what was requested of him – to find the statue.  This, he agreed, was what he must do, and will do

And now, Joseph decided, if whatever it was that he had gotten himself into was preordained, then there would be some rules to follow.   Much as he would prefer to have a one-on-one conversation with whoever was in charge of all these weird happenings, he doubted that was likely to happen in the short term.    All he could do at the moment was wander erratically through life, and learn the rules as he began to understand them for what they were.   Joseph was now certain that what he needed to know would come to him in time for him to deal with it, and he believed that thought as much as he believed for certain that this was already happening.  Everything suddenly seemed to be getting better.   He still did not fully understand what the creature and he had in common, nor did he fully understand the games that seemed to be taking place between his own sanity and the creature’s unexpected arrivals, but, for the moment at least, he felt he could cope.   He would devote his thoughts to locating the statue and releasing Rosetta and her father from their comatose condition, and as far as the creature was concerned … he would have to take each arrival of the hideous, foul smelling beast as they came.  Joseph took a deep breath, exhaled and slowly raised his head to the heavens … and his waiting nemesis.

And as Joseph stared sullenly at the thing that he now knew he would shortly do battle with – once he learnt how to, that was, a sound emerged so loud it made the ground beneath his feet vibrate.   Joseph was confused for a moment, and when he looked up at the source of the noise it didn’t make a lot of sense.   The creature was beating its wings as hard as possible as it hovered over his head; beating them so hard all Joseph could see before his eyes was the dust that was rising higher and higher from the ground below.   It was the dust equivalent of a volcano erupting and it took Joseph every ounce of strength he could muster to prevent himself from falling to the ground from the vibrations … yet there seemed not a speck of dust falling on him.   For some strange reason the area for around three metres all the way around him was as clear as a bell, while the dust elsewhere was getting thicker and thicker.   Then Joseph heard the roar of frustration and hatred from the creature … and as he looked upwards towards the embittered being he was convinced that his last seconds of life had finally arrived after all, as the creature’s huge body abruptly crashed straight down towards his waiting body at the speed of light – then there was nnothing.

********

EPISODE 48

PART 5

“Did you hear that?   Mary asked in surprise at the muffled boom that had caused all four of them to rock gently on their feet for a few seconds.   “What was that … an earthquake?   It wasn’t like the last ones.   They sounded more like a giant playing bongo drums, or burping … and this one was a lot louder than that.   It was almost like a giant bird flapping its wings in slow motion.   It seemed to come from over that way.   Ooooh, what is that awful smell?”

“There certainly has been plenty of noise coming out of the ground this morning.”  The stranger offered,   “Mind you, there are always a lot of strange things that take place on this farm, but I believe that I know where these sounds are originating from.    There are caves beneath this part of the farm and I think that occasionally some of a cave simply collapses as a result of subsidence occurring beneath them   There was quite a storm a few days ago and I think that when that occurs there is a lot of water that runs into the caves that becomes trapped there until it finally soaks into the ground.   Over a period of time areas of the ground beneath the caves becomes soft and cannot support the wall.   Eventually cracks will appear in a cave wall and it will partially collapse.   Scientific research suggests that there are a nest of caves and tunnels under the farm and when one collapses the noise has various outlets to travel along before it escapes which is how we hear them.

“Caves?   Under the farm?   How did they work that out?”    Martin asked as he looked around the lush growth of long grass and weeds that covered the now unused soil.

“Do you see those houses down at the bottom of the farm?”   Harvey asked, pointing a finger to guide them to where the houses were.   “Well, that is where I live, have done all my life.   My family has lived there for generations, one of the first families to occupy the houses.   My family go back well past Lord Trentham’s rule, but it was he that arranged for the houses to be built, so he’s not ever forgotten here in the village.   The legends* say he was the best squire to ever rule over this part of the countryside.   Mind you, the legend also says he met with a strange fate, but that is another story*.   Anyway, I am diverting.    A long time ago, long before the road was bituminised, when the land down the bottom of the farm was allocated for housing for the farm workers and their families by Lord Trentham and building began, a couple of sinkholes appeared on this side of the boundary line during construction.   Nobody was hurt, but they discovered relics from tens, perhaps hundreds of thousands of years ago.   Archaeologists from the British Museum were sent down from London and they found all sorts of primitive equipment without having to go too deep into the soil.   You can see there is a long slope running down from the farmhouse.    They said that there were probably dozens and dozens of small caves and tunnels under the ground from where we are standing, until just before the houses; caves where primitive humans once lived.   You may or may not know it, but this country of ours went through some massive changes over the eons; from a beautiful Mediterranean climate to die for, to a sheet of ice that covered nearly the entire country.    Early visitors to our great country arrived in hope of settlement, but were driven out by the extremes of a still growing landmass.   Rivers came and went, while floods moved soil and created shapes that changed the countryside to what we have today: England, God’s little piece of countryside-by-the-sea.   The archaeologists were of the opinion that some of the earliest humans tried to settle here on several occasions, but the conditions proved to be too harsh during that period, so they moved on.   Eventually floods from rivers long since gone carried rich fertile soil that had lain in wait miles upstream and deposited it on the hill that became known as Forster’s farm long after the primitive humans had evacuated the area.   Now, as you can see, time and nature are both now moving on and the farm is changing once again … now it is naught but weeds and long grass.”

“Why did they keep building when the sinkhole opened?   Weren’t they worried more would open up; that the houses could also collapse?”   Mary asked, her interest peaked by being so close to a piece of the past long gone.

“No.    The land is flat and reasonably solid where the houses sit.   The builders had been using the area where the sinkhole exposed the caves to store all the timber for the houses, and they must have applied too much weight to a fragile part of a cave causing the whole thing to collapse.   When the ground caved in it exposed a fair area, but only dropped to somewhere around six feet into the ground, which meant they were able to recover all the timber without too much trouble.    There was no further exploration of the area for other caves or buried treasure.   The archaeologists only stayed for just over a week, but they were fairly certain that the caves and tunnels would originally have run all the way up to where we are now standing, though they doubted that the weight of the workers and their equipment would have caused any problems to the thick, compact soil that was the farm fields at the time.  It was all manual work back then on the farm.   Not even the large plough horses or oxen were considered to be a problem.   The archaeologists categorically stated it was only the bottom caves that were ever at risk with the water that had run down the hill and collected in them over thousands of years.    And they have been proved correct in their assumption over the years since.”

“Why didn’t the museum turn it into a bigger dig?”   Martin asked in surprise,   “These days the farm would have been completely dug up under some bureaucratic ‘Heritage Listed Site’ ruling.”

“A matter of survival, I should imagine“   Harvey replied with a huge grin.   “You can dig up old cups and plates all day long, but you can’t eat them.   This was a living, breathing farm that fed most of the village back when this happened.   It was not something that Lord Trentham would relinquish giving up without a fight.   Besides, there was not a lot of money in the kitty back then for museums to idle their day’s away digging up old cups and bones in rural backyards.   It was all volunteer work back then – and there were no volunteers in Trenthamville putting their hands up.   Everybody here pulled their weight.   They were all too busy with their jobs that took them from sun up to sun set to find the time to potter around in unsafe sinkholes.

The archaeologists had been certain that the farm was honeycombed with the caves and tunnels, but once they had left, and the building recommenced, local interest soon began to wane  – and it would have been all but forgotten very quickly had it been for one particular night when a light exploded out of the ground.”

“Oh, a ghost story – how cool.”    Mary said, the excitement in her voice bringing a wry smile to Harvey’s face, “I think that I have heard about this light.”

“This is not the one that happened a little over a week ago.”   Harvey advised her, “This one happened not long after the sinkhole had delayed work on the houses, and it was only seen by a family of three who were the first to live in one of the newly built homes.    Each member of that family swore something emitted from the exposed cave where the sinkhole had appeared.   A huge thing with giant wings that had flown out the bowels of the earth in the midst of a blast of light so bright it threatened to blind them for a moment.   It had been on the downside of twilight, the time of the evening when the inside lighting makes the outside seem even darker than it really was.   They had been sitting around the table having a drink when the outside of the house lit up so bright that they thought a fire had broken out, and as they ran out of the house they could see the strength and power of the light that shot out of the sinkhole and screamed upwards to the heavens.   And then they noticed that there was something inside that light … and whatever it was, it was thick and it was big.   But no other details could be made out … not until it got higher in the sky on.   The night had been clear when the setting sun and the rising moon had exchanged pleasantries in passing; clear with the exception of the strange light from the sinkhole which suddenly disappeared, replaced by a background of stars, and the thing that had flown out of the cave under cover of the strange light was now silhouetted against the brightness of a blood red winter’s moon now already almost  a quarter of its way upwards … and it was huge, was the creature.   So huge that at times during its aerial display of agility, as it circled directly in front of the moon, that the moon itself momentarily disappeared from sight and it gave the illusion that flames were emitting from every portion of the creature’s body.   So huge was the creature, so bright was its outline as it seemingly rolled and played in the freedom of the sky they saw more than they were ready to see.   The bottom half of the creature looked like the lower half of a draft horse, but with only two legs, and coated with hair and scales, and a human like body formed the upper half, albeit a human body with massive wings like an angel, and a human body with the face of the devil itself … complete with horns.   That was all they saw.   The nightmare they were watching suddenly flew away as fast as lightning leaves a cloud and disappeared amongst the stars, never to be seen again.  The family that had reported seeing the creature had a reputation for the drink and were not believed, but that didn’t stop the arising of a new local legend that states a creature still lives beneath the grounds of Forster’s farm and will arise again one night on the beams of a devil’s moon, and his sighting will signify the end of mankind.

“Wow!  That is some story.”   Mary admitted,   “What is a devil’s moon?”

“I imagine it means different things in different countries.   Here in Trenthamville it means a blood red moon rising as the last ray of sunshine throws every ounce of daylight it has left at the rising moon so it hits the darkening sky giving the impression it is on fire.”

“That sounds romantic, not scary.”   Mary said with a small giggle, “has anybody seen the creature since?'”

“It depends on who you ask, and sometimes how sober they are.”   Harvey replied with a grin, “but the world hasn’t ended yet.”

“No, I guess not.  But what about the smell … is there any connection between it and the creature?

“I have not heard of any.   I think that it is gas created by rotting vegetation and the odd dead animal; Foxes, badgers, and other small creatures that have got themselves trapped in one of the many pit holes that now frequent this section of the farm, where the gas has been caught in a pocket, and is only released when some of the underground soil erodes or collapses.    The farm hasn’t been tilled for many years now, and a lot of the ground has deteriorated over time.   There are many areas where pit holes now appear where cattle once grazed, or potatoes grew, and many of them are hidden beneath the long grass and weeds.    It is not a major problem.   It is only a local event and occurs primarily beginning here, where we are standing, and going down towards the far end of the farm which is where the majority of the pit holes are … and it is also the same area where the caves are presumed to be, which is why I say that the farm itself can’t be built on.   The smell will subside shortly.”

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous to traverse the farm if there are hidden holes in the grounds?”   Mary asked with due concern,   “Why don’t they spray the area to expose the holes to make it safe?   Or fill them in, that would be even better, wouldn’t it?”

“They used to,”   Harvey advised, “but it proved too expensive.   The farm has very little income.  It isn’t a huge renter because it provides nothing to the renter.   It suited the professor’s purpose, but he is the only one to rent it in well over a year.   Before that it was only used by weekenders when there was absolutely nothing else available in the village at all … and that wasn’t very often.   The land isn’t deemed to be conducive to building on because of the caves, and the good soil petered out years ago.   The house may be sold one day, but it would only be good as a ‘status symbol’ after a good clean up for a city boy, would-be-lord-of-the-manor, or as a country guest house for city dwellers …that sort of thing.   It will never be any good for a farm again, not a working one at least, and it is deemed too dangerous for a housing development.   Nobody ever comes here.   I am probably the only one in the village that ever needs to come here, outside of a renter, or the trustee, that is.   And I have a safe trail to follow … even in the semi-dark.   Everybody else would come in the way that you did.”

“You seem to be well informed about the farm.”   Martin pointed out,   “Perhaps there is something that you can help us with.”

“Oh, I am sorry,”   Mary said with a slight blush on her cheeks, “Where are my manners?   Martin, Joseph, this is Harvey.   Harvey, these are my friends, Martin, and Joseph.”

“Hello, Martin.   Harvey Watson.”   Harvey stated as he stepped forward to offer his hand to Martin who was the closest, “I am the part time maintenance man and egg collector here at the farm.   I look after the chickens, collect the eggs, mow the lawn around the farmhouse once a month or so, and do a bit of maintenance when it’s required … that sort of thing.   An all-rounder you might say.”

Martin and Harvey exchanged greetings, then Harvey turned to emulate the handshake with Joseph, but it was Mary that made the observation.

“Joseph, are you alright.  You look simply peaked.”   Mary asked, her voice reeking of concern for his welfare,   “You are sweating like a pig.   And what is wrong with your eyes.   Are you with us, Joseph?    You look like you are a thousand miles away.  Joseph!   Joseph!    Answer me.”   Mary reached out and placed her hands around his and pleaded with him to communicate,   “You are frightening me, Joseph.   Please talk to me.”

Martin walked over to Joseph and placed his hand on Joseph’s forehead, quickly retracting it.    “I think he’s running a fever.   His body is bloody hot.   And he is sweating badly.    Perhaps we should call a doctor?  Do you have a number of a local doctor, Harvey?”

“Yes, yes, I do.   But may I suggest that we take him up to the house where he can sit down for a moment.   He might simply be having a reaction to the odour.   Nobody knows what it really is, nor do I think anybody has ever considered finding out.   It comes and goes, and as far as I know nobody has ever been killed by it, though I believe a few have been rather unwell for several hours.   Let us just help him move inside the farmhouse and get some fresher air and see how he goes.   If he has still not recovered, at least back to some form of acceptable lucidity, say within the half hour, then we will contact the doctor.  Otherwise it may very well be a long trip for the doctor for nothing.   Doctor James covers a lot of territory around here.   He could be anywhere up to fifteen or twenty miles away, so we don’t want to make him come all this way and find that it turns out to be a false alarm.”

Martin and Mary agreed, but with reservations, especially about finding fresh air inside the house, but they said nothing.   Though they wondered that if it had been the strange stench that emitted from below the ground that had been responsible for Joseph’s current condition … then why hadn’t if affected them.

Mary wrapped her arm around Joseph’s waist to support him, but got a surprise when she did … Joseph was stiff as a board.   A sensation that was not lost on Martin as he did the same thing from the other side, but that was not what unsettled them the most as they tried to move him … it was the fact that Joseph was so stiff he couldn’t be moved without the fear of damaging him.   It was like he was made of cement or lead, or was nailed or staked to the ground; They could not move him one centimetre.   Joseph was fixed to the spot, his glazed eyes frozen in time … and to see him in this condition brought tears to Mary’s eyes.

********

EPISODE 48

PART 6

“It is alright, Joseph.   It is all over now.”

The voice startled Joseph so much his eyes almost exploded as they snapped open.   And with that action he received another start, only, this time, he couldn’t believe his eyes.   The darkness had completely disappeared.   In fact it was so bright now that he had to raise his hands to his eyes, but it didn’t make any difference other than to distract his attention from the voice that had given him such a fright.  All he could do was look down to the ground below and let nature do its work for him.  It took quiet a few seconds, but eventually he was able to slowly raise his head upwards and take in the vision that had been denied to him on his first attempt.   The sun had been so bright to his eyes he had feared he would suffer permanent blindness.   Now his eyes could take in anything and everything he looked at, including the farmhouse where his friends had been killed.   And that gave him cause to accept another shock as he took in the scene when it suddenly dawned on him that not only was he still alive, but he could now see his friends who were still standing, talking, as they had been before they had been obliterated.   And he was still standing there facing in towards Mary.   It was as if nothing had happened, nothing but … and it was then he realised that the Punjaniti was nowhere in sight even though it had fallen on him … ‘fallen on me, it damn well fell on me … all thirty thousand tons of it!’   Joseph had no idea at all what the huge creature really weighed, but it had seemed bulky enough to do the damage that his mind now conjured up.   It suddenly hit Joseph that even though he seemed to have also survived the carnage that had resulted from the attack on his other self, the one that was still standing in front of Mary – it was with this version of himself that was sending his mind reeling; it was the one that was giving him the pounding headache; it was the thing that was confusing the life out of him.   It was the fact that he was not damaged in anyway whatsoever.   And Joseph knew that it was wrong, because the weight of the creature’s huge body should have pulverised this version of him when it fell on him right here where he was still standing.   He should now be lying flat as a pancake on the ground, every bone in his body broken, and crushed into a thousand grams of bloody dust.   But he was still standing upright, without a pain any greater than was being caused by the pounding within his head from the headache this was all giving him.

Joseph closed his eyes and squeezed them tight in frustration – then opened them again slowly, cautiously moving them around the image of his far distant friends as he tried to ascertain the reality of their existence.   His head was spinning with residual fear, both in relation to the expected return of the creature … and the expected forthcoming loss of his sanity.   And the image of the back of his own body some distance away facing Mary did little to alleviate his confusion and fear.

‘Where am I … surely I can’t be in two places at the same time? ‘   He asked nobody in particular, ‘What is going on?    Surely this is madness … it has to be?’  Joseph’s nerves were on edge.   His body was shaking, and the sweat on his face and arms was dripping to the ground below like a fountain in full flow.   ‘This is madness,’ he reaffirmed to himself, ‘this is total and unadulterated madness.’

Joseph looked around and tried to work out where he was, but he could recognise nothing.  It was like being in a void – there was nothing but what he could see ahead of him – the farmhouse – his friends – the stranger – himself.   There was no side, no behind, no above, no below … nothing there to see, to recognise, just darkness.   Then something unexpected surprised Joseph.   A red fog suddenly appeared in front of his eyes.   Just a small wisp of fog at first, gently rolling backwards and forwards at the feet of his friends as if was being tickled by the most gentle of breezes,   But, within a second, it became more irrational in its movements as it quickly began to rise ever upwards, until suddenly he could no longer see his friends.   The fog began to get thicker, its colour became redder, but what suddenly appeared in the middle of the red haze made the hackles on the nape of Joseph’s neck rise, and the small of his back to become so taut the pain was unbearable.   Joseph knew in that eventful second, that death had finally arrived, when he found himself staring in the hate filled eyes of the Punjaniti.

********

Episode 48

Part 7

A shudder ran through Joseph’s entire body as the Punjaniti took one step forward towards him, and as it moved – the fog immediately thickened and swirled over the creature – covering it completely from sight – covering everything from sight.   Joseph was petrified in the red darkness, blinded by the fog.   His heart rate increased by the second with the sound of every thud of the slowly approaching Punaniti’s feet crashing into his head.    He could smell the rank arrival of death lingering inside the fog, a vile smell that grew fouler and more obnoxious with every step that vibrated through his pounding skull.   The steps came closer, and closer … and closer still.   Joseph could see the fog swirling more and more aggressively the closer the huge creature got to him, the smell growing so repugnant Joseph was on the verge of throwing up … when suddenly, unexpectedly, the noise abated … and there was dead silence; there was no sound to be heard whatsoever – with the single, terrifying exception of Joseph’s wildly beating heart.   Nothing … there was nothing, absolutely nothing.   No strange noises to send shivers down his spine, no movement to send the fear in his heart into overdrive … no sordid air to suck in to his lungs … nothing.    To Joseph the sound of silence was more distressing and worrying than the aggressive thumping of the humongous hooves that had preceded it.   The bareness of nothingness gave cause to an increase in imagination, and soon, in the cold darkness of the fog, in the absolute death inspired silence, every self-created wisp of movement or sound within the now blood red fog was treated as a warning of his imminent demise.   Every blade of grass, every minuscule ant, anything and everything, that never moved, that was never seen, that was never heard, was intensified and heard in Joseph’s imagination, seen in his imagination, and treated with paranoid suspicion as a result.    Joseph’s imaginative thought process increased in its intensity, and the endless array of events that were possibly taking place within the darkened, confined, space began to spread like wildfire.    Noises: loud noises, soft noises, unearthly noises began to filter through his ears.   Lights twirled, flickered, exploded behind his eyes; eyes that he no longer knew if they were currently open, or closed … and then the smells began to arrive.   Sweet, joyful and pleasant smells began to penetrate his senses.  Smells that took his mind to happiness and childhood, but they were soon overridden by smells that induced fear and hatred to enter his system.   Increasingly hostile, intimidating, obnoxious, odours that threatened to dissolve his brain as they took it to hell and back.   And as a result of this assault on his already badly fractured system, Joseph could now feel the strength of the fear that was overpowering him.   He could feel the walls closing around him as the mind of the Punjaniti entered into his mind’s domain, and he knew the fight was over.  The Punjaniti had won.

 

********

EPISODE 48

PART 8

Joseph knew that this was the start of permanent madness taking over his life.   His head felt like it was on fire, his brain felt constantly uncomfortable.   It was as if there were battery charged wires inserted into it – and the power they produced was being discharged through the wires every other second.   His teeth were rotting and one by one falling down into his system where they would soon lacerate his insides…. and the beasts were crawling through his entire body as they ate their way out of him.    Joseph was feeling totally out of control, frightened beyond description by what his brain was telling him … and he had no idea how to stop whatever it was that was going on inside his head.

And then the voices arrived.   ‘Joseph … Joseph … We are waiting for you.’    Suddenly Joseph’s head was full of souls that he knew instinctively had been previous victims of the Punjaniti.    In a background as dark as black can be dark, the faces of the deceased rolled around as if there was no gravity to ground them.   Their sunken eyes and their twisted, distorted, faces giving them a disturbingly grotesque look as their heads floated through the illusion of space the black background created.  Twisting, turning, and flipping around in all directions like flotsam on the tidal change.

   Then the arms came out of the darkness; arms not with flesh, but bare bone.   Skeletal bones, a yellowish shade of white with long fingers, and even longer nails  reached out to touch him, to caress his arms and hands with their inquisitive needs.   Bones that sent spasms of fear and mistrust through his mind as they prodded and probed his sweating skin; Bones that represented two hands on two, ever elongating arms that now reached out further from the darkness; hands that began to gently stroke at his cheeks, under his chin – and then five digits; four fingers and a thumb, moved across his lips – and forcefully inserted themselves into his mouth before gripping the flesh that covered the lips until all  ten digits had complete control of his mouth.   And then, their grip tightened on the lip until there was no more pressure left to apply.   The nagging pain from the continued force being applied to Joseph’s mouth was unbearable, but the skeletal hands were no way finished in their terror of his senses.   As Joseph withered in pain and fear, the fingers, still tightly gripped on his lips, retracted back to the darkness as hard and fast as they could move … and began extracting the skin from Joseph’s now bleeding lips as they moved.

Joseph knew not what to do, he was going mad, he was about to be killed – and now he was sharing his mind with the dead who were about to rip the flesh of his face.   ‘Something,’ he thought … ‘I have to do something … anything, but I have to something.”   However, there was only one thing he that he could do.

As the top half of his lip became stretched over his forehead, and the bottom half reached under his chin …Joseph screamed the scream of the dead about to leave this mortal coil.

********

EPISODE 48

PART 9

“Joseph!   Desist!   It is only a nightmare.   You are not going insane… you are safe!

Joseph literally jumped on the spot when the voice broke into his private mental breakdown.   It gave him such a start he instantly felt it should have given him the heart attack he had been expecting virtually since he had walked through the front door of the garage this morning.   But the voice itself was non-threatening.   It was calm, it was clear, and it was reasonably soft in reality, despite the thunderous volume he had imagined it had produced when it had frightened him.  But, never-the-less, it demanded the respect of attention by its audience, albeit listening without interruption … and, somehow, despite his current mentally frail condition, Joseph did what was asked of him.

“Joseph, it was but a hallucination.”   The voice advised, “Your mind is just reacting to all that you have been through today.   Do not fret so.   It was just an overworked mind releasing pent up worries within itself via a simulated nightmare.   I most sincerely apologise for what I have put you through by bringing you here after what took place at the garage earlier.   However, it was essential that I spoke to you today; it was essential, but I underestimated the effect it would have on you by doing it the way that I did.   I am afraid what the Punjaniti has done is still playing havoc with my decision making.   I forget too easily that you have not yet had the experiences that will come your way in due course … perhaps.   What you witnessed when you thought that your friends were being attacked is what happened, but not what could have happened.   You turned away too quick in your sorrow for both what you thought was about to happen to your friends, and to farewell Rosetta, to see what really happened.    Though you probably wouldn’t have understood what you saw and heard had you watched it through.   What you have suffered in the past few minutes is simply your mind’s reaction to things that it didn’t want to know, nor knew how to handle.”

Joseph managed to take in every word the strange voice had spoken, but had to admit to himself that it was all as clear as mud at the moment.  He spun quickly in the presumed direction of the voice, this time to find a figure of indefinable height or description; a mysterious figure cloaked from head to foot in black standing before him in the full light of day in a completely open field roughly one hundred yards from the top side of the barn where the others were still standing.

“Who are you, and what is happening to me?”  Joseph’s voice was incredibly calm for the fear and confusion that bubbled away inside him; it was, however, a superb attempt of self control.   Joseph wanted to hear the complete episodic mystery explained in one short, sharp burst; Joseph wanted an explanation for every single thing that he and his friends had encountered since they had arrived in Trenthamville … and everything that had happened to him today.   Why Mary had behaved the way she had?   How could he see himself in the distance as he and his friends died … then see them all suddenly came back to life with no care or interest in what had just happened to them.   Why was he here … and for that matter, where was here?  Everything was a mystery at the moment … and he wanted answers.   But, Joseph knew that to learn the truth he would need to show patience and restrain his line of questioning to a speed and level he could handle and retain in the current disarray of his mind.

“Who I am will come back to you when it becomes necessary, Joseph, perhaps even in the course of this conversation.   As may the answers you require.”   The voice replied,   “We have had many conversations over a period of time, and there will be many more to come.   Much of what has passed through us is locked up safely inside your head for recall when the time is right.  To reopen those conversations at the moment would take more time than we have, for with each question asked, the answer will open a new question … and each new question and answer make things harder and harder for you to comprehend.   It is better we allow things to open up for you in the right sequence – under the right conditions; under natural conditions.   For the moment it is important that you fully understand the new threat to your life that exists so you can be ready to repel the attacks that were never meant to happen.”

“What do you mean?”  The statement made by the black robed monk had thrown Joseph completely off balance.   “Who want’s to attack me … and why do they?”   He asked.

“The Punjaniti, naturally,”   The monk replied, “because he want’s you dead as soon as possible.”

“Naturally, who else but the Punjaniti … sorry, I should have seen that one coming.”   Joseph was despairing at the way his life was spiralling at the moment.   He could feel his mind spinning in total mystification as it attempted to do the impossible and make some sense of things.    And, of course, it couldn’t.  “I am sorry to be such a nuisance, but I really do not understand why my days and nights here in Trethamville are so tied up with this Punjaniti.   Despite my own disbelief at what I am about to say I need to understand a bit more about everything that is happening.    Despite my fear and concerns about this battle that I am supposed to believe I am involved in, I am willing to accept that the Punjaniti and the Punjant are both real, and that there is a statue that I must find and exchange for the antidote to Rosetta and her father’s condition … and that is about the end of my knowledge about virtually everything regarding Trenthamville and the Punjaniti.   How did I get myself in this mess?”

“You truly do not know?”

“No.  I truly do not.  Would you mind telling me?”

“I am afraid that we do not know either.   You were brought to our attention by our Earth observers.   We have some humans that we can trust to keep their eyes and ears open and advise us of what they witness that involves the Punjaniti.   What they reported convinced us to check on you, and you were proving yourself more than resourceful when we observed you.   When we realised just how resourceful you were I made contact with you and have provided you with relevant information that would help you in your apparent destiny.   However it has always only been information for you to analyse in order to have an equal chance in the battle.  I have never advised you how to battle.  For you it had to be purely an instinctive reaction to each and every situation, and it still is.   We couldn’t advise you how to do battle with the Punjaniti because you had never shown any ability to battle the way that you do now – until your battles began.   So we have no idea what you are capable of … even now you still surprise us with some things that you come up with.   I travelled back in time to learn why you have been doing what you have been doing, though careful to not become privy to information that may somehow cause me to accidentally do something that would defile the great plan that had been set up for you.   However, even though I traced you back to your time in the orphanage before I first made contact with you, I found nothing of help to my quest.”

“You can time travel?”   Joseph asked in amazement, “You are from the future!”

“In a manner of speaking, the answer is yes.   However, it is primarily a projection of the mind that travels.   I can physically travel through time, but it is much easier and quicker if I only take my mind almost anywhere and anytime within the seven universes, anywhere other than where are limitations set in place and governed by interplanetary law.”

“Does that mean that you are not really here right now?   That you are a projection of sorts … a hologram, perhaps?”

“That is an Earth term, but for all sakes and purposes the answer is yes.  But I am not a recording.   I am here in real time.   And within certain limits I can move around freely through spaced areas.   That means that I can walk in open spaces, go through open doorways, catch a bus or climb a hill.    I am not like a ghost; I cannot go through walls and rocks, and I cannot fly.”

Joseph ignored the unbelievable incredibility of what the monk was saying; he had become too excited at the potential of finding out more about himself.   The monk had visited the orphanage.   “Did you see who found me and took me to the orphanage?   Did you see who left me to be found?”

“I am sorry, Joseph.  I could not.   To go that extra distance was forbidden.   I travel freely through time under the authority of the three time control planets, but there are some time-zones that are forbidden to enter, and I simply cannot move through them.   It is as if a solid invisible wall has been placed around a particular point in time.   I can reach it, I can climb over it, or go around it, but I cannot enter it.   When I reached your arrival at the orphanage it was only to see the matron caressing you in her arms as she watched the door behind me closing as whoever had deposited you there left the room.   I was not allowed to go back any further in your time-line, nor was I allowed to follow and question whoever it was.

“That is a shame.   Thank you, anyway.   If you are from the future is that when you discovered me?”

“Yes.”

“So you think that I have already started to do battle with the creature”

“It had seemed so at the time.   Now … I don’t know.   Things are getting distorted.  There is currently a disruption in time.   Events that have already taken place suddenly have no place in the history of time; events that hadn’t previously happened in the current time-zone now are recorded in time-lines.   There is a major problem.   Time has been distorted and we now cannot travel back into your time-line past this point in time.  This means that we have no way of determining how or why you became involved.   We can only see into your future, but even that is becoming  corrupted because it is now constantly on course for change.”

“How can my future change if I haven’t arrived there yet.   I thought that today was yesterday’s future and tomorrow’s past?”

“It usually is.   But there is something happening at the moment that is unprecedented in time.   The Punjaniti legitimately exists in this time zone.   I mean this not as in a case of law, but that it is a time that he travels through on his journey of life as you do.   He was born long before time was recorded, long before it was even given a name, and it is at this point in time, the one that you and I are now sharing, that he is currently travelling through on his journey to his future.   He journeys to several planets from time to time, but it is always in the same time -zone, the one that you and he currently share.   And time for both of you travels forward.   Whatever age you are right at this very moment, and whatever age the Punjaniti is at this moment of time, you will both be ten years older in ten years time providing that you both survive that long.   This is the Punjaniti you do battle with, and will continue to until one of you is defeated.  But the Punjaniti is not a time wanderer.   He cannot travel forwards and backwards in time … he can only travel forward.   That is a fact.  It always has been a fact … until now.”

“Why?   What happened?”

Sometime in the near future, as a result of his once again losing a battle to you, the Punjaniti used his incredible powers to clone himself.   A perfect replica; a replica so perfect it could have been the original.  It is capable of complete decision making equal to the bona fide version that created it, and is fully aware of what is required of it.”

“How many versions are there?”  Joseph was still having enough trouble fully accepting that there really was a Punjaniti, never mind a half dozen or more.

“There is only one ‘Bona fide’ Punjaniti, but he will always exist in two versions until the day that he dies; only then will there be only one Punjaniti.  Past, present and future all rolled up into one little coffin.  At the moment the current version currently resides in this time-zone with you, and the other version that will exist will do so in the future.   Now it is important to understand that to the future version of the Punjaniti this time-zone is the past … and one learns from past mistakes.   The Punjaniti from the future has learnt that lesson and has now found a way to come back in time with gained knowledge that he hopes will allow him to rectify those mistakes.   In more simpler terms, he has come back to face you for the first time, only, for him, it will be the second time.   The Punjaniti thinks that he can now beat you because he already knows how you will do battle in each and every skirmish and he will be ready for you.   I will explain more in a moment.   But first we must help you overcome the problem that is currently devouring  you.  Your sanity.

It appears that you are also finding everything to be uncomfortable at the moment, especially after what happened to Rosetta.   You really have no idea what you have got yourself into, but it feels like it is more than you can handle, and this is putting you very much on-edge.   After all, you feel that you are here by accident and everything is getting out of hand.   What you really need, you feel, is to be able to have a good heart-to-heart with someone, but you have no-one to turn to … and that is probably true.   But you did not volunteer by accident, and you were not forced into this world of the Punjaniti.   We do not know why you are really involved in the battle with the Punjaniti any more than you do at the moment, but we have seen how you handle yourself in the future, and I can assure you that you handled yourself with aplomb.   And it is for that very reason we are assured that what you are doing is your destiny.    It would be assumed that the facts behind why you commenced this journey will eventually be revealed, but at the moment you are so lacking in confidence and reason that you are even contemplating quitting your role in the battle with the Punjaniti.   You really need to take a deep breath, Joseph, and allow your mind to calm down so you can deal with what I am about to tell you.”

Joseph felt affronted by the monk’s statement … even if it was at least partially true.  Joseph was fast becoming worried about this strange person in the black robes.  As far as he was concerned the monk was revealing more information about him than even he knew about himself.   Joseph had to concede that his mind had continuously received thoughts to the possibility of his becoming involved in something that was not an everyday occurrence over the past few days.   ‘Perhaps even long before the day I met Rosetta’, he wondered, as his mind unexpectedly flashed a memory of the fleeting images in his head that turned up regularly whenever he went on-line to check his stars at Johnson’s.   ‘Johnson’s!   My god,’ he suddenly thought, ‘how long ago was I last there?   Three days ago!   It feels like three years.    So much has happened since that day I met Rosetta‘

“These attacks will continue to happen,”   The monk went on, forcing Joseph to pay attention with more threats to his life,” regardless of whether or not you wish to continue the journey.   The Punjaniti no longer wants to simply fight you, expecting to eventually defeat you … he now intends to kill you as fast as he can – and get you out of his way.   And he has found a way that he is certain will gain him the outcome he desires.   He will not be concerned if you no longer wish to do battle – he just wants to see you die.   And if you decide to no longer fight him … then there is no doubt that you will be helping the Punjaniti to achieve his aim.   And a lot more people will also die as a result of your inaction.”

Joseph was shocked by this declaration; first death threats, and now guilt on top.   Joseph was uncertain if what was being said to him at the moment was to be believed, or if he was wandering carelessly into a trap.    Suddenly Joseph made a snap decision.   He stopped listening for a moment and turned his thoughts completely off and stared deep into a self created darkness, giving his well worn mind the opportunity to go about its business without his help.   Joseph was unwilling to play questions and answers with his own mind … as far as he was concerned his mind had a duty to do its job, and he had only given it instructions of how he wanted it to perform but a few moments ago.   And, as this event began to take place, Joseph felt certain that, as if in agreement with his decision, the monk would remain silent for the duration.

The seconds ticked by at an extremely slow pace, albeit without any form of interruption, until finally, in an ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’ moment, Joseph’s mind came back and advised Joseph of its decision; a decision Joseph agreed with.   Joseph opened his eyes and turned to face the monk.   Then, in a slow, methodical tone, he spoke,  “And how, exactly, would you suggest that I calm down and take a deep breath when I have no idea what you are talking about.   How am I supposed to know what I am supposed to stop worrying about?   There is a possibility that I do know you, but my mind won’t process any memory of you at the moment, and at the moment I am full of mistrust of everything and everybody … and that certainly includes you.”

“You are currently in denial, Joseph,” the voice replied, retaining its slow, non-threatening tone, “Defensively perhaps, but in denial regardless.   You do know the answers to most of your questions – you just don’t want to admit it to yourself.   You are sticking your head in the sand, rather than accept that you have now reached the point in your life that you have known was coming since the day that you were born.   The dreams you saw, the flashes of the unknown that entered your mind on countless occasions as you used the internet to show you your life’s future.   There was a time when you saw yourself as some kind of hero about to break free from your shackles and save the world … now that time is nearing, you are panicking, trying to ignore what is going on in your mind, and in your life.   This is a seriously deadly situation that you are in, Joseph, a life and death situation – your life, your death … and you do need help.  Please, allow me to calm you down – my way.”

Joseph assumed that the monk-like figure in black was giving him an offer of choice, but before he could think about the question in greater detail the inside of his head suddenly exploded in brilliant colours.   Colours so bright, so clear, it was as if he was watching a Sir David Attenborough nature special on a five thousand inch, 160K, three dimensional, ultra high definition screen.   And on the screen butterflies of every colour and design known to mankind, and more, were slowly beating their wings as they gracefully made their way across the most incredibly designed-by-nature floral background that he had ever seen.   It was as if ‘Beautiful Garden’s had located and photographed the most wonderful, breathtaking, creation ever known to mankind, but were still not satisfied until it had been photoshopped to somewhere well beyond absolute perfection.    Something like Toy Story’s Buzz Lightyear’s ‘To infinity … and beyond’.   It was like an incredible dream that had come to life and invited Joseph in to share its impossible beauty and serenity.   And it was working.   Joseph’s mind instantly began to encompass the joys and wonders on display equally as fast as the fear and futility of his quest began to depart.   He felt a calmness that rested lightly over his body that took him back to his youth in the orphanage; to games of soccer, and cricket on the orphanage’s spacious grounds.    To the girls giggling and the boys infectious laughter at birthday parties, and visits to the zoo where the antics of the monkeys and some of the other inmates had them all in stitches, or at a Punch and Judy show the orphanage had arranged to have visit them.   Joseph felt, at this very moment in his life, as if he had reached the promised-land while he was still a living, breathing, and very fragile, human life-form.   But as he allowed the three-dimensional image to completely wrap itself around him he began to realise that it was not a three dimension world that he was immersed in, but virtual reality in 4D.   He was no longer watching a recorded program, he was inside it; he was part of it.   Joseph could now feel the warmth of the planet, and the soft breeze caused by the butterfly’s wings that rippled through it.   He could smell the hundreds of different, deliciously sweet fragrances that emitted from the flowers, the shrubs, the trees.   And he could turn his head and body in any direction and see nothing but the idyllic world that he had been invited into.

And as he watched, mesmerised by the radiance of the millions of combinations of colours that surrounded him, by the many fragrances that filled his soul with joy, Joseph suddenly realised that they weren’t butterflies, but a race of incredibly attractive, minuscule, humanoid like creatures.  “Les Fées.” a soft female voice whispered in his ear as if clarifying the new knowledge he had just gained, “They are Les Fées of Veros.”   A name that Joseph was to learn later was ‘The Fairies of Veros’ in the French language on planet Earth.   Veros being the inhabitants name for the planet that Earth referred to as the far distant uninhabitable ‘Planet X6-8A’.   Joseph was yet to learn that inhabited planets such as Gargoria and Randoline, Arrabutta and Sensoria, and every other planet with life-forms spread across the seven universes had no idea of the name some little known astronomer from the planet Earth had given them when they discovered the presence of the planet.   Not that any of them were likely to change the name of their planet should that information become known to them someday in the future … just interesting to know.

And it was at this point that Joseph discovered the delightful creatures were happily moving around, not just through an extremely thick growth of unbelievably gorgeous plants and ferns and trees of every possible colour, shape and size as he had first thought, but through and along the airwaves and breezes that meandered in and out, through and behind, their homes and communes.   Because the trees and shrubs and flowers were their homes.    Joseph looked for the owner of the voice that had spoken to him, but was unsuccessful in his attempt which he regretted.   He would have loved to have found out more about this strange, yet extremely beautiful, planet and its equally wonderful inhabitants.   He was disappointed that he could not make contact with the incredible inhabitants of this interplanetary ‘Shanrgi–La’, but he was appreciative of what the monk had given him as promised.   Tranquillity and peace, and the bonus chance to visit another world, another life-form, an event that may never have been bestowed on him had it not been for his breakdown.  ‘Perhaps I could overcome the emotional roller coaster ride the past few days have taken me on and learn a bit more about what was expected of me before I walk away?’,  Joseph thought to himself   And out of sight, the monk smiled, and nodded his head in agreement.

In the meantime Joseph was more than quite willing to spend as much time in this interplanetary paradise as the monk would allow him.

********

The seconds turned to minutes, and the minutes soon turned to an hour, but never once to boredom.   As he looked around him, Joseph was constantly bedazzled by the sight of what he saw.   He became absorbed by the tranquillity of the scene he was watching, enhanced by the soft lilt of the music that he swore accompanied the small creatures as they constantly moved around their world.   And, the longer he remained in this tranquil state, the more he could feel the stress lifting off his mind and blown somewhere far, far away from where he currently stood watching this unbelievable display of pure magic.

Eventually, as if the lens of a camera had slowly been zoomed back to its maximum width, more and more of the stunning butterfly people began appearing before his eyes.   Soon thousands, millions, seemingly billions were flying in incredible artistic formations across and around the skyline.   And as the population in the sky increased they eventually transformed from life forms into pixels in an incredible display of art that was forming in the sky to the pleasure of his eyes, and his eyes alone.   A floating parade similar to the floral displays presented at carnival time in different countries on Earth; Joseph couldn’t recognise the majority of images that were being created, outside of some of the floral displays that were similar to the ones he could see in his current surroundings, but he appreciated the display regardless; it was a massive arrangement of flying art – it was utterly magnificent in his eyes.   Joseph’s entire face lit up in appreciation of what he was witnessing.   He had seen nothing like this in his entire life, and he could feel a tear of joy forming in the corner of his eye – then suddenly everything went black.

Joseph stepped back in shock – the air became rank – then putrid – then intolerable.    Finally, accompanied by a blast of extremely repetitious, head-splitting, thunder, and an equal display of power in the form of lightning strikes, the Punjaniti’s face appeared in the sky above him; a face, as usual, emitting pure hatred as he glared down in Joseph’s direction – then everything exploded into blackness once again.   Silence reigned.   For sixty seconds, not a second less, nor a second more, darkness was all Joseph could see, silence was all that he could hear, with the exception of his own heart which was beating at a worrying pace.   But, in the first second of the next minute, as if in slow motion, frame by frame, the image of the forest began to flicker before Joseph’s eyes to slowly reveal a burnt out, blackened, image of death and destruction.  There was nothing living, not one pixel, not one butterfly, not one blade of green grass, nor a red petal on a rose bush was visible in the image.   There was nothing to be seen but the smouldering remnants of a catastrophe.

Joseph felt sickened by what he now saw.   “The Punjaniti did this?”   He asked in repulsion at the revolting site that now engulfed his eyes.  “Why?”

“Because that is what it does to planets.”   The monk replied,   “That is why you have been trying to stop him – now, and in the future.  Not just for this planet, but for every planet in the seven universes … and at this moment in particular, to save your own planet; to save Planet Earth.   The creature is so old that it exceeds any living memories.  Nobody knows for certain why the creature has no known enemies.   There may have been in the beginning of creation: there may have been a reason for such a cunning carnivorous creature to exist.  But its existence no longer seems justified any more than does the near extinction of thousands of races throughout the seven universes that keeps the Punjaniti alive.

You have begun to get very close to achieving your aims.   However, the creature is aware of just how close you are getting which is why he has come back in time.   Why he has already tried to attack you, why he will continue to attack you more frequently.   He has come up with a new plan to defeat you, but he has made one mistake in his planning that stops him from being able to use it effectively at the moment … a mistake that may or not be rectified in the near future.   But, whether or not it is fixed, the Punjaniti’s new presence still puts your life even more at risk than it has been since you first took him on when you had no experience at all.”

Joseph hesitated to ask what the monk was about to reveal, but curiosity finally got the better of him, though his tone of voice made no attempt whatsoever to hide the worried feeling that was beginning to grow inside his entire body when he did finally inquire.

“The Punjaniti has come up with a way to increase his efforts to kill you.   He has found a way to return to this time zone and travel with you on every step of your journey so he can attack you whenever the opportunity arises.   However, he does not intend to do so just by his own hand, he intends doing this in co-ordination with the version of himself that truly resides in this time-zone.”

Joseph looked in shock at the monk; a million questions roaring through his mind.  But he hesitated too long to speak, and the monk continued with his barrage of fireballs that were now burning inside Joseph’s already overcrowded mind.

“This is fact … not a hypothesis.   The Punjaniti has the power to clone his future self, which he has done … and now he has sent it back to do battle against you at the side of the younger version of himself that resides in this time-zone.  The one that you were destined to do battle with; the version you have been battling in the future … the one you will continue to do battle with from this moment forth.

“I wouldn’t call the two encounters I have had with the Punjaniti – battles, assuming they were real.   They scared me witless, and I certainly didn’t fight back.”  Joseph objected vigorously.

“I am sorry, Joseph, I was referring to the battles that you had undertaken before the corruption in time occurred.  The attacks you are referring to are new attacks; attacks generated by the new arrival … the proxy.   You could not have done  anything about them for exactly the same reason the creature has been unable to harm you.   You are are both in slightly different time zones as a result of the way the proxy was despatched back in time.

That is part of the reason that I have come back from the future.   You have fought the Punjaniti in the past, the old past, but what the Punjaniti has done has disrupted time.   This way of explaining things to you is perplexing because the past has been altered slightly as a result of his actions.   The time-zone that I came from had a slightly different past the first time around.   The Punjaniti’s actions have disrupted the sequence of events of things which I unfortunately keep referring to.   Hopefully time will catch up with itself within the next few hours and we will be able to handle the situation a lot easier.   The Punjaniti forced a time control planet to do his bidding, and they had no option but to comply with his request, but did so begrudgingly, and with a few innovations that the Punjaniti was not aware of at the time.

What you now have is one Punjaniti in the future who is waiting for history to change, and two here in this time-zone, one of which is a proxy, who are attempting to change history.   The Punjaniti’s plan was simple.   The proxy would lay in wait in the shadows of your time-line as it awaited the arrival of the current version of itself … and when the attack by the residing version commenced, the proxy would join in the battle.   The bona fide version; the future version, was aware that it had failed when it first did battle with you, but was certain that if you were continually distracted by the two of them, they would quickly destroy you.   Especially when one of them knew every move you would make in advance.

There is, however, a problem for the proxy.   The Punjaniti itself cannot fly back and forwards through time.   It was forced to manipulate a scenario that involved a kidnapping and a ransom demand that required one of the three time control planets to despatch the newly created proxy to your time-line and it arrived in Trenthamville several days ago.   This is the one that has attempted to kill you on several occasions and failed on every occasion, including the attack a few minutes ago, and earlier this morning at the garage.   The time-line is simply the path in life that you have been creating since the moment you were born.   It is similar to your footprints trail, only it is recorded in real time, not in distance.   The time-lines of historical figures and events throughout the galaxies are often reviewed by historians so certain events can be researched accurately.   This method of research allows full observation of the event in real time as it actually occurred, so there is no doubt in the findings.   Scientists can also observe weather patterns and flora growth in a similar manner because all living things have a time-line.   There are several types of time-line transporters that are used, in this case it is a ‘shadow-ripple’.   A totally invisible carriage that seats one or two travellers.  It is for special use only and is rarely used because it is so limited in its uses, though the Punjaniti was never advised of its limitations.   The carriage is pre-programmed before it departs from the originating time-control planet to land at a particular point in time in the original time-line traveller’s life, and continue moving forward with the time-line traveller as they continually head towards the future.”

“It would have to be fairly large to house the Punjaniti, wouldn’t it?”

“You really have no idea just how huge the Punjaniti can become,”   The monk stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “but that is not relevant to the situation.   The body of the occupant is automatically shrunk to fit the compartment with comfort.  When the occupant needs to exit the carriage, they will only be able to do so for a predetermined length of time.   There are procedures in which the occupant can leave the cabin and regain their normal size, but they must be within a certain distance of the shadow-ripple within a certain time frame to regain entry and continue their journey.   Failure to do so may very well prevent them from ever leaving the time-line that they are currently residing in.  Should that happen they will be stuck in a single time-frame within a time-zone forever.

That said, in normal circumstances, the Punjaniti will need to reserve its energy which means that the proxy cannot be attacking you twenty four seven, or it will drain the bona fide Punjaniti dry of energy.   This is not a major problem for the proxy.   The shadow-ripple allows for the operator to stop and go at anytime that they feel like doing so.   After all, the shadow-ripple is a type of time machine in itself, only it can only go forward.   It cannot go sideways, and it cannot go backwards, but whatever awaits it in the future will always be there waiting for their arrival.   Should something be going to happen in twenty minutes time it will still happen in twenty minutes – no matter how long it takes them to arrive there.   By that I mean that the proxy does not have to travel in real-time to get somewhere on time, it simply has to get there at the allocated time.   If, for instance, the proxy had to arrive somewhere in your timeline at ten twenty six to join in battle with you and its alter self, but at six twenty six (on the time-line clock) it had used up too much energy, it could rest for hours or days, weeks even, while the Punjaniti recharges.   Then when everything is ready the Proxy could continue the journey in the shadow-ripple towards the event that was taking place at ten twenty six and whatever was due to happen then – would still happen then.   Unless something was done before the four hours of time-line elapsed to change the future.   An action such as the proxy taking you by surprise and annihilating you at, let us say seven fifteen on the time-line clock for the sake of the statement, not because seven fifteen has any relevance other than being prior to ten twenty six.  Then, and only then would there be a new event taking place at ten twenty six because it would be impossible for you to engage in combat with the Proxy or the Punjaniti if you are already dead.   The concept of the shadow-ripples and their ilk is that they are following in somebody’s time-line, not in real-time.  They are travelling in the past towards the future that in the main has already happened.   The time-line operator is simply reviewing everything that the creator of the time-line has done in their lifetime in sequence … and what is seen is shown in an actual time span.   If it takes the owner of the time-line five minutes to do up their shoe laces, then that is how long it will take for the chore to be completed, however the ripple-shadow operator can increase the speed of the time travel if they so wish, but if impatience causes them to accidentally miss a key point of the action, it is too bad … they cannot rewind time.

In retrospect, the time-line is a record of every second of somebody’s life that has happened to date, it has nothing to do with the time on a clock on a wall, or mantle piece, or an appointment time marked on a calendar.    A researcher travelling in a time machine such as a shadow-ripple cannot continue past the point in time where the owner of the time-line is currently residing, regardless of whether they be dead or alive in that time-zone.    In most cases the subject of the research is usually deceased, but cases such as yours are different.   Your current point of redisence is one minute past now.   But you should be several weeks deeper into your future.   This is all out of reasoning becasuse of the curent time distortions .   We will have to wait and see what transpires/

Should you be destined to do battle with the current version of the Punjaniti in twenty minutes of so, that twenty minutes of so is in time-line minutes, (real time minutes in this sitution), and if the proxy attacks you and kills you before the twenty time-line minutes has elapsed … then whatever was supposed to happen in twenty minute’s time  – won’t!   The shadow-ripple and the other time machines only work from the past to the future in time-line minutes.

At the moment the proxy is settling into its new role while it is waiting for the arrival of the current version which is due to attack you sometime in the next twenty four hours.    The proxy cannot wander around Earth searching for the current version, it is restricted to the confines of your time-line.   The time controllers calculated the date that you met up with Rosetta for the first time and sent the proxy back to two days beforehand where the proxy would then travel forward at controllable speeds until it arrived at a destination where it wanted to stop – and it will then expect to exit the vehicle to do whatever is needed to be done.  The proxy can travel past an attack if it so wishes, but if it does then it cannot return to that particular event – ever, hence the ability to control the speed of the shadow-ripple.   The proxy relies on its installed memory to know when to get ready for an attack, but it can stop the shadow-ripple at any stage should it wish to initiate a solo attack on you such as it has already done.   The problem it has doing this, however, is that it is not in complete sync with you and cannot physically harm you.   It can, however,distract you when the other version is attacking you and it is imperative that you know which one to battle.  You don’t want to waste time and energy battling with the wrong version, but you will have to work out which is which is a hurry lest the one that can kill you gets the jump on you because you are distracted by the other one.

The proxy was aware of the fact that it had several days of travel in the time-line to complete before it would make contact with its other version.   And in this situation would normally have considered resting at some stage earlier than the date of the first attack to conserve energy for the forthcoming battle; a chance to be fully charged when it commenced.  After all, neither the Proxy, nor the future Punjaniti, were aware how much energy was being used as a result of the time transfer.

However, when you went to the garage and made contact with the photograph the proxy decided to take advantage of what it saw as a serendipitous chance to eliminate you … and attacked you.”

“Did the proxy hide in that picture?”

“Not exactly, but he somehow managed to obtain a link in it.   We had placed a memory link to reinforce some of the things that I had already spoken to you about, so when you saw it would help you accept things a little bit easier.   You would see that I had been telling you the truth in regards to something that seemed a total improbability to you at the time of the telling.  But somehow the Proxy also obtained a link to it.   So when you turned up at the garage out of the blue it took the initiative and attacked you.   Of course he became terribly frustrated when he found that he had made no impact on you with the attack.   He was uncertain what had gone wrong, so instead of waiting, he decided to keep following you.   And when you went to the farm he decided to attempt another attack on you, but when he saw the stranger there he decided to seduce you to continue the search hoping that you would locate the statue before he destroyed you.   However once you decided to fight against his attempts to seduce you he went straight back to his plan to kill you and immediately attacked you, and, of course, he failed again.   But then he discovered that you had suddenly disappeared.   Eventually he was able to work out where you had moved to and tried for a third time to kill you … and again he failed.   This time he did stop to re-energise, and let his mind try to calculate what was happening while he rested … and this time he seems to be still in that mode.

However, this was the beginning of things going slightly awry for the proxy.   The proxy, at least at this stage of things, cannot communicate with the bona fide version in the future.   Communication, verbal or telepathic, was never thought to be a necessary requirement by the Punjaniti, because everything that the proxy needed to know to fulfill its mission was installed into the proxy as a carbon copy of the original’s mind.   Everything that the proxy was expected to do would be done as if it was the original itself that was travelling in the time-line.   Notification of success would be by the notification of your death in records that the Punjaniti had spies keeping a permanent eye on.   The minute your name appeared in the records, the Punjaniti would know that the proxy had achieved its goal … the proxy would then be terminated.”

“Why would he kill it?

“It would be redundant.  The proxy’s existence is an unnecessary drain on the bona fide version’s energy levels.   To keep the proxy active it requires the bona fide Punjaniti to share the energy levels it needed to survive and go about the tasks that were required of it … and that version of the Punjaniti is already sharing energy with its younger version … after all, they are really the same thing, but while the creature is residing in this time-zone, it is also residing in the future, therefore they both need energy to survive, but only one can collect it to share … the Punjaniti of the future.   In doing what it has, the Punjaniti is putting a huge strain on its own resources because of you, and as a result it will only be able to support short, sharp attacks by either the current version, or the proxy … and a lot less if they are both in battle simultaneously.   So it needs to eliminate you as soon as possible.   Remember, until one of you are defeated, the battle continues.  And as a result of all this energy use, the proxy and the current version will both have to be rested whenever the Punjaniti needs to be recharged, which will, most likely, be fairly regularly.

This is, of course, in your favour.   And another thing in your favour, that the proxy is only now becoming aware of, is that it isn’t travelling in a true time-line, but a shadow-ripple.   What I didn’t explain earlier is that a shadow-ripple is slightly out of sync with both you and your time-line, and, even more importantly for your safety, the version of the Punjaniti that it wishes to join forces with.   This was why the energy bombs failed to harm your friends, and why the creature didn’t harm you when it landed on you.   It could sense you, but it couldn’t see you … and it certainly couldn’t harm you because it is permanently out of sync with everything.    The energy bombs were detonating in the proxy’s time-zone, not yours.  Had you been watching you would have seen the bombs exploding, and the smoke that rose from the detonation; you would have seen that your friends saw nothing, but felt the rumble in the ground and heard the explosion which was nowhere as loud as it would have been in the proxy’s time-zone.  What you saw and heard were as a result of my actions and interference.

What you will have to put up with will be attacks from one version of the Punjaniti that has the power to kill you, providing you give him a chance to do so … and a second version that can’t kill you directly, but can cause you grief in other ways.   You can all see each other most times, you, the proxy and the other version, but communication will be a problem for the proxy and his double unless they can communicate in sign language.    This means you will have to quickly work out which is which; the one that can kill you – and the one that can’t.   You won’t want to be wasting your energy on defending yourself unnecessarily – but you must ensure yourself that you are defending yourself against the one that is lethal.

Mind you, the proxy can use a life-form, or an artificial intelligence life-force with access to a controllable body to do its work for it, either by attacking you, or using you to destroy yourself.    But having said that, the life-force, or artificial intelligence, has to be already within a one hundred yard radius to the proxy, and not have an allegiance to you that the proxy can’t control.   That was why the stranger’s mind was used by the proxy to make you believe the events between you and Mary were actually taking place.   He could not have used Martin or Mary for the same purpose.   This version simply does not have the power to override their loyalty.   The same could not be said about the current or future versions, however.  They can use almost anybody to their advantage.”

“But why would he play with my mind rather just kill me outright?”

“I assume that his priority was locating the statue, judging by the way he was using Mary to encourage you to continue searching and find the statue as fast as you could.   But you were strong enough to understand that something was trying to control your mind and you fought hard and regained control of it.   It was then that he changed his agenda and decided to kill you anyway.”

“Oh lovely.   Still, I don’t understand.   When he was messing with my mind, he could obviously see me.   But when he did try to kill me, how come I could suddenly see him, yet, for some reason he could no longer see me … but he still seemed to know where I was?”

“That was because I transferred your mind into mine and brought you over here to see what happened when the proxy attacked your small group … absolutely nothing. But, of course, you turned your head away too early and missed everything.   But you still heard the noises because I amplified them so you could hear them.  The time-line is recorded by the physical movement of the mind.   When I moved the mind it recorded an extension to the time-line, but the physical component, the body, was left behind.  The creature eventually picked up on the extension and followed it, but, of course, the mind is invisible to the naked eye, especially when it is residing inside my head … and my head is currently residing on a planet two hundred light years away.”

“And the proxy conjured up the strange behaviour by Mary in an attempt to entrap me in some way by obtaining the power to do so from the stranger?”

“Yes, very well done, Joseph.   Though it wasn’t actually Mary who was leading you astray, it was always the creature.    Mary was just the image the proxy conjured up in your mind to make things work for him.   Nobody else was privy to what happened because it happened only inside your mind.    Mary spent the entire event in conversation with Martin and the stranger.   Not one of them had the least idea of the mental anguish you were going through.   It would appear that the creature was gearing you up to pull out all straps to find the missing statue.   But I put paid to that when I disengaged you from your body and moved your mind over here.   He obviously needed that statue with the greatest of speed.   He must have thought that the statue was even more important than killing you.    He was willing to wait for that pleasure because once he had the statue he was under the opinion that you wouldn’t matter any more.   Earth would be his.”

“I just realised what you said that you did.    I am not still inside your head am I?”

“I am afraid that is not quite correct. Joseph.   I have simply tweaked your mind slightly to make you believe that you are standing there facing me to make you feel more comfortable.”

“So that really is my body?”   Joseph asked in a shaky, perplexed tone,   “Just how did you get my mind over here without by body accompanying it?”

“It is a power that I have.   For all intents and purposes the mind is simply energy. that co-operates with the brain.   At the moment it has been unplugged from your system and reconnected to mine.   I won’t complicate your thoughts anymore than I already have.   Think of it as what happens when you upload data on your computer to the clouds.   There is no real cloud.  It means that the data has been transferred through the airwaves to an unseen computer.   That is precisely what has happened here.   I engaged with your mind like I was linking into a computer and allowed you to see what was happening here through my eyes, again in a manner of speaking.   That also is how I unlocked some of your thoughts, and to make you feel a bit better, I wasn’t attempting to read your mind, which I can if I so wish, but in this case I inherited an automatic connection to your thoughts.   I am sorry if it embarrassed or greatly concerned you, however, I can assure you that I was not prying into your life, at least not on this occasion.”

“You seemed to know an awful lot about me,”

“We had to check up on you as we discovered your connection with the Punjaniti.    That is my job.”

“Well,”   Joseph said as a sigh left his mouth, “You have given me a smorgasbord of food for thought.

“Oh, there is more I am afraid, Joseph … much, much more.   But just not now, your friends are becoming concerned for you.   You are, after all, without a working mind at the moment and they are beginning to notice that.   We shall talk again soon.   Just remember to keep your guard up during the next few attacks and try to develop a way to identify which version is attacking you.   And remember that the seemingly less dangerous version of the Punjaniti can turn life-forms against you, so you may find yourself defending your life from more than one front simultaneously.”

“Talking about battles, if the future version can’t kill me, then I assume that I can’t kill him?”

“That is correct.   However, we are fairly certain that should you destroy the other version, the future version will no longer exist, and, therefore, neither will the proxy.   Now, your friends are waiting and they are becoming extremely worried about your current mental condition.   It is time to go.   We will meet again shortly.”

Joseph turned once more to look in the direction of his far away friends and indeed they did seem to be showing some concern for him.  Mary was placing her arm around him, as if to give him physical support, and on the other side Martin seemed to be doing much the same.   “What are they doing?”  He asked,  half-turning his head to face the monk.   “Why are they … ?

But before Joseph could finish his question his world began to spin again.   Suddenly he was back in complete darkness.    A darkness so black he dared not move an inch for fear of falling.  He was totally disoriented, he was confused … and then the nightmare began again.

Hands he could not see were once again coming out from within the shadows of complete darkness.   Hands with long, sharp. pointy fingers began to prod his face, his forehead, his cheeks.   Hands with arms that stretched out and out, and then began to wrap themselves tightly around his waist from the side, and he knew what would be next the minute that they began to snake their way up his chest towards his waiting, sweat drenched face.   Joseph was not going to allow it to happen … not this time.  He clenched each of his hands into a ball and punched them outwards into the air.   His arms now in a straight line with his shoulders, Joseph took a deep breath … then threw his arms sideways as hard as could to do as much damage as he could in order to regain his freedom.

But as he did, Joseph was in no way prepared for the outcome of his efforts … .

 

********

EPISODE 48

PART 10

As his eyes sprung open ready for the fight of his life; as Joseph’s arms ripped through the open air in his attempt to inflict the greatest damage possible to his assailants; as Joseph screamed out the most unnerving string of abuse he could come up with to those who were attacking him … Joseph was far from ready to accept the scene that now confronted him.`

“Get off me!   Leave me alone!”   Joseph screamed out loudly, his arms flaying in all directions causing nothing but discomfort and distress for his would be attackers who continually called on him to desist from his attack.   “Leave me alone, do you hear me?

“Joseph … Joseph … stop it.    Do you hear me?”   A vaguely familiar voice cried out through the darkness, but Joseph was not having a bar of defeat.   He was not going to die, not today.   They were not going to rip his face off this time.   He would fight to the death if necessary, he screamed.   And suddenly he thought that he was winning; the assailants let go from both sides, but that turned to disaster as the unexpected release of his wildly swaying body caused him to lose balance.   And as he rocked back and forth in his attempt to regain his balance, his eyes took in the face of one of his would-be assassinations … and Joseph froze in total confusion.

********

Joseph’s unexpected vocabulary and violent struggling, so out of character, frightened the life out of Mary and Martin who let go of him so quickly that their reaction threatened to send them all spiralling to the ground as they struggled to retain their footing.   But Mary wasn’t going anywhere that took her away from Joseph.   She twisted her body around and somehow placed her arms firmly around him and pulled him in as close to her as she could; her actions helping to stabilise their equilibrium.

“Joseph, oh, Joseph, thank god you are alright.”   Mary cried out as she squeezed him as tight as humanly possible.

“I don’t understand”, Joseph admitted, “why are you trying to kill me?”

“We are not trying to kill you.”   Mary replied, “Why do think that?”

Joseph went to explain about the darkness, the hands, the nightmare, and that reminded him about the monk and he soon found his words to be far too complex to express, mainly because the more he remembered, the less he felt he could explain.  Eventually he simply shook his head and closed shop.   “I don’t know.   I am sorry, I really don’t know

Joseph was clearly confused by the hurt tone in Mary’s voice as much as he was failing to understand exactly what was going on, but he was seriously beginning to believe that he had been completely wrong in his assumptions that he was being attacked by the demons of his nightmare.   Eventually he took control of the hands that were wrapped tightly together in the middle of his back, and gently began to unlock them before lifting her arms far enough away from his body to safely manoeuvre Mary’s body back away from him until he could see her face … and when he finally completed the task he was completely taken by surprise to find tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Whatever is going on, Mary … are you alright?”

“We were worried about you, old son.”   Martin replied on Mary’s behalf, his face, like Mary’s, full of worry and concern for his friend.   “You have been standing there like a stunned mullet for the past few minutes, and sweating like the proverbial pig.   Do you feel alright?   Do we need to call for the doctor?”

Joseph began to self-analyse himself, eventually finding no pain or illness.   “No,   I feel fine now.   The last thing I remember was a strange smell and I felt a bit nauseous.   What happened to me?   Did I pass out?”

“No, Joseph.   You simply froze to the spot.   We tried to move you to the house, but we couldn’t even drag you there, never mind make you walk.   It was like you were full of bricks and nailed to the ground.”

Joseph looked incredulously at his two friends for a second and began wondering about their sanity, when something flashed through his mind, though this time the images lingered long enough for him to interpret them as they projected themselves through the screen inside his head.   “Akerious,’’  he suddenly called out loudly, though meaning the words for his own mind alone, “so it is all real!”1

   “Joseph?”    Mary asked in a panicky voice which quickly made Joseph realise he hadn’t been prudent enough with his words as he would have liked to have been.

“Sorry, just thinking aloud.  Whatever it was that I smelt, it must have giving me a bit of a rush.”

“It does seem to affect some people that way, or so I have been told.”   Harvey added to the conversation.   “I have only seen it once before myself, and it lasted an hour.  Though, their reaction upon awakening was a lot calmer, they said that they felt like they had been in a deep sleep and felt totaly relaxed.   But no overall harm.   Though I have heard others have suffered longer and worse.   ‘Arkeriuos’, you say.   I have met him … I think.  A friend of William’s, that’s right.   A strange cove as I remember.   Dresses like a monk.   Even wears a hood over his head.   But he seems a nice person when you get to spend a little time with him.  Same person do think?   Do you know him well?”

“Yes, same person, or so it seems,”   Joseph agreed as he reached out with his hand, “Actually, it seems that I may know him more than I know I do, but, no, I don’t think that I know him too well; not just yet, at least.   Anyway, Joseph Jacobson, pleased to meet you.   Harvey wasn’t it?”

Harvey found Joseph’s phrasing of his answer slightly bizarre.   He looked at Joseph as if he was going to say something, but changed his mind and shook hands while his mind blamed it on the fumes, and dismissed the entire episode forever.

Martin also wondered at what Joseph had called out, but refrained from saying anything in front of the other two.  But he knew he would have to do so the first chance that he got.  He was one hundred percent certain that he didn’t mention Arkerious by name when he was telling Joseph about William Jones and the guardian.  So he wondered just how Joseph knew that he existed in the scheme of things?

“So your mind simply disappeared from the face of the Earth for a few minutes?”   Martin asked.

“It seems that way, Martin.”   Joseph replied without elaborating.

“Well you look fine now, Joseph,   Mary said, a huge, happy grin covering her face from ear to ear as she gave him another huge cuddle before shaking the water off her hand and arms as she pulled back,   “All you have to do now is dry out a bit.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mary.”   Joseph’s face had gone a bright shade of red when he realised what had happened, and he was fully aware that it was that colour because he could feel the flesh burning.   Trying his best to divert any forthcoming comments away from the situation he used his hands to give Mary a quick squeeze of her hands, instantly regretting his decision, however Mary quickly defused the situation by giving him a coy smile as she wiped her saturated hands on the back of her dress.

“It is fine, Joseph,”   Mary said, her voice as soft and as pleasant as the smile that accompanied the words,   “It will dry in no time.”

Still, Joseph felt embarrassed by what had happened, and quickly turned his full attention back to Harvey to get everybody’s mind on to a different platform.

“Do you come here every day, Harvey?”  He asked.

“It feels like that some days.   Most days, but, no, not every day”   Harvey replied with a loud laugh, “I come here most days to collect the eggs and feed the chooks … the missus sells them at the markets, the eggs that is, not the chooks.   The professor would collect them one day a week and take enough from the day’s laying to keep the two of them going for a week.   If, there was an oversupply to his requirements the day that he took his share, he would leave them in a bowl for me to collect the following day.   I also do the lawn when it needs cutting, or do a piece of gardening should it be necessary, but outside of that I come here just to check it over in case kids or tramps have been trying to break in now that it’s unoccupied while the professor recuperates.”

“Harvey, when we were here yesterday, we saw a wild looking man peering through the window.   We came outside and chased him when he ran into the barn, but we lost him in the dark.  A real raggedy man; Filthy face, shaggy hair, caveman beard, could be any age.   Have you ever seen anybody like him hanging round here?”

Harvey looked at him quizzically for a moment then thought about it for a while before answering.  “You must mean Vittorio, the professor’s brother.  He fits that description these days.

“Vittorio!!   Both Joseph and Martin exclaimed in total surprise before Harvey could finish his sentence as the name suddenly exploded in their collective heads.   They were confused, why hadn’t Rosetta recognized him?  Was she not quite telling the truth, or had his appearance changed beyond recognition?

“Vittorio … you think that this was the man that we saw in the barn yesterday?   Surely not!   The man we saw was all dirty and dishevelled.  He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a month or more.   His clothes were a mess, his exposed face was covered in dirt and grime, his hair was all matted.  And his eyes were bloodshot and glazed.  He looked more like a hobo on a bad day than an archaeologist … certainly nothing like Indiana Jones.”

“That’d be him alright.   Never used to look like that before that night … always a perfect gentleman he was until then.  Had a beard when I first met him, but it was always clean and kempt.   I have never seen a man’s appearance change so dramatically, and in such a short time, overnight, in fact.  I expect that you have heard about the strange light that had appeared here at the farm a little while back … when the witches were supposedly running amok out here?

“Yes, we have heard some stories about it.”   Joseph admitted, as Mary and Martin nodded their heads in agreement.

“Well, Vittorio was inside the house while the witches were in there doing whatever it is that witches and warlocks do.  I don’t know if he was involved in their activities or not, but I doubt it.   He certainly wasn’t wearing a white robe like the others were; he was still in his work clothes.   I think he was there with them by accident, or they had forced their way in to the house not knowing he was there.  I have no idea what really took place in there, but Vittorio hasn’t been the same since he saw whatever it was that he saw that night.

“I thought that the two brothers were staying at the farm?”   Joseph asked, “I don’t understand that.   Wouldn’t they be expected to be there?

“Most nights, yes, but once a week they would go to the Rat and Mouse, have a meal and follow it with a couple of drinks; then get the village taxi back to the farm.   Just a break from a monotonous workload, the professor once said.   Missus O’Shaughnnesy who runs a B.N.B in the village made both lunch and evening meals for them that were delivered fresh daily by her brother-in-law, however the professor often had to forgo the evening meal at the farm.   The internet and satellite service at the farm was unreliable most days, so the professor often spent a night of two at Missus O’Shaughnnesy’s B’N’B when he needed a reliable service for his phone and computer communes with world experts in his field of archaeology.   As a result he had a hot, tasty, freshly made, meal, and a break from the farm several times in a week.   Vittorio, on the other hand had all his meals cooked by Missus O’Shaughnnesy and delivered daily, but they had to be reheated and lost a lot of their taste and freshness in the ancient wood burning stove, and, of course, they were rather lonely meals.   So the visit to The Rat and the Mouse was mainly for his benefit.

They still talked shop, but it gave their minds and bodies a rest from whatever it is that archaeologists do besides digging up long dead mummies and their cats and pottery.   This was their one night out away from their work, and everybody in the village would have known that the house would be empty.   But something must have happened to change their minds that night, and it would have caught the witches off guard.

“How do you know that Vittorio was there for certain, Harvey?   Where you there, or did he tell you that later?”

“I was there, but only just before everything suddenly came to a stop.   It was just after dusk, the moon was on the rise, and I had just gone outside to try to get a photograph of it as it began to merge with the trees at the side of the farm.   I like taking photos of the leaves and branches when I can merge them in with the moon.   They can produce some very atmospheric images, especially when the right shaped clouds join in.   I had only just gone out the back door when I heard the witches chanting.   It took me a minute or so to realise where it was coming from.   As I told the others earlier, I live at the bottom of the farm.”   Joseph , who had not been capable of hearing, or understanding, anything that Harvey had said earlier, looked to where Harvey was pointing and could see a row of houses that lined the far side of road that ran parallel with the farm, and assumed roughly the same total of houses resided on this side of the road,   “All the houses on this side of the road have gates that open up on to the farm.   The fence was originally put up to keep the cattle in, but they still managed to get out from time to time, so the gates were put in to allow the farmer and his helpers easy access to any point on the road that they needed to use to get the cows back where they belonged.   The cows have long gone, but the gates and the fence are still there and it makes it easier for me.   I can walk up here in less time that it takes me to drive up here, and I get my daily exercise to boot.   It took me a while to work out where the chanting was coming from, and when I realised that it was coming from the farmhouse I knew that there was something wrong … I was absolutely certain that the professor and Vittorio were not involved in witchcraft, though there are quite a few in the village that were suspected of being involved in it.

But, I digress.   As I was saying, I had a gate which gave me quick access to the farm, and I made my way up to the house to see if the professor needed any help as quickly as I could.   But I was about a third of the way across the field when the outside of the house lit up so brightly, so quickly, it gave me a start.   And then I saw the reason for the sudden brightness; a strange light was blasting straight out of the ground at the side of the house … and flying ever upwards towards the stars.

Then, as I continued my way to the farmhouse, this strange, loud, badly muffled, voice came booming out of the house.   It was so loud the words that were emitting from it were incomprehensible, like somebody yelling into a microphone that was stuck deep inside their throat.   I couldn’t understand a single word that was being transmitted through the airwaves.   Then, to add to the confusion, the entire inside of the house also lit up as bright as day, though I couldn’t see anyone through the windows.   The voice got louder and louder … then the screaming began … and despite the heat that was getting hotter and hotter by the second, the closer I got to the house, the stronger I could feel the cold shivers that were beginning to freeze my back and neck.   The strange, confused, feeling that ran amok, across and through my entire body, was terrifying.   I had all but reached the house by this stage and I stopped short in panic as the door suddenly flew open and three figures came running out.  Two of them, both dressed in white robes, ran in my direction, but veered off to the right before they collided with me, though I doubt that they saw me, they seemed too petrified to worry about me being in their way.   Most likely moved out of my way purely on instinct.    The other escapee I recognised as Vittorio, who ran off in the opposite direction and quickly disappeared into the darkness.

And as I watched Vittorio vanishing from sight, two soft explosions took my attention back in the direction of the witches that had run past me but a second or two earlier, only to see nothing but a wisp of smoke emitting from the ground.  What been burnt and what had caused it, I had no idea.

The screaming from the farm house suddenly dissipated, the light in the yard disappeared and the light inside the house suddenly returned to a more normal illumination.    But I had no idea what had happened. or whether the rest of the witches were still in the house or not, and I was curious about everything that had just happened, so I cautiously made my way up to the house and peered through a window.   But I was gob-smacked by what I saw, or didn’t see, to be more precise.

There was no sign of life inside whatsoever, which was a direct contradiction to the noise that had been emitting from the house less than a minute earlier.   There was no sign of damage inside the house, with the exception of light smoke, or perhaps it was fog that was rolling along the floorboards.   There were no flames, mind you, just this smoky substance … and just a lit up, empty, house.   I guessed that they had been using one of those fog machines for some special effect in their witch-crafting, or maybe their cauldron was still boiling away.   Though, to be perfectly honest, from where I was standing I could only see a small portion of the house, but before I got a chance to walk up to another window for a better view I could hear the police siren coming towards the farm and decided it was time to leave, so I did.”

“So you didn’t talk to anyone or go inside the house?” Joseph asked.

“No.   There was nothing to see in there as far as I could make out.   There didn’t seem to be anybody inside.  Vittorio was presumably safe… and there had been no sign of the professor.   I decided that the witches had realised that all of the noise they had been making would have been heard by half the village on such a clear and still night, so they had all jumped in their cars and headed off home.   What I had heard may have been them arguing about how much noise they were making.   If I had gone inside and there was something amiss, I may very well have disturbed a crime scene.   And if I waited for the police to arrive, I had nothing to offer them but aroused suspicion about my presence on the farm under the circumstances … so I went home.

“And Vittorio’s life went downhill from that stage?”

“It most definitely did.   The next morning he literally turned up on my doorstep in a state of disrepair.   At first I didn’t recognise him he was so dirty and unkempt.  And his clothes and body were producing a rather rank impression on my senses which I presumed was as a result of the previous evening.    God only knows where he had been.   I asked him for details as to what happened the previous night, but all I received was some rather unintelligible ranting about demons and ancient devil worshippers.   I gave up in the end and tried talking him into coming into the house to bathe.   I was going to give him some of my clothes to wear while my wife washed his, but he just wasn’t interested.   Said he had to go back to watch over the farm in case ‘it’ came back, whatever ‘it’ was.   Mind you, he demolished a hearty breakfast my wife prepared for him before he left.   She explained that she had heard on the grapevine about the police finding the professor in a comatose state, and thought that Vittorio may also have been affected by whatever had caused the coma.   But as soon as he had finished the meal he was off, and he has been coming back at the same time each day.   It’s lucky that we have an outside table at his disposal because his graces and manners aren’t exactly peaking at the moment, and he makes a fair mess for somebody accepting a fee meal.   I think that he spills as much as he eats, and I am not certain that he actually digests his meal it disappears so quickly.   We know that we will have to get help for him eventually if he doesn’t snap out of his strange ways shortly, but we are not going to have him committed into an asylum.  I am in complete agreement with my wife that what will help him the most is getting his brother back.   Besides, he’s not going to go to the hospital willingly, and nor can we force him to.   And if we were to report him to the police, well I doubt that they are capable of helping him.   They certainly can’t arrest him because he hasn’t done anything wrong as far as we are aware, and I doubt that they are in a position to make the right decision for his welfare.  We, my wife and I that is, are constantly scrawling through Doctor Google’s world to work out the best thing for him, but it’s pretty uncontrolled in there and we don’t want to make a mistake on Vittorio’s behalf.   In the meantime we leave him to his own devices.  Not much more we can do.   He knows that he is welcome to stay with us until his brother recovers.   I wish he would, actually.   We might finally get him to bathe and change his clothes.”

‘Yes, I suppose it would be hard for the average person to put the wheels in motion in a manner their conscience would be happy with.”   Martin noted,   “Fortunately for Vittorio I do have good connections with the right people.  As soon as we are finished with our reason for being here, I will get the ball rolling.   Vittorio will get the help he needs … and all going well, it will happen before the weekend concludes.  Providing we can find him, that is.”

“Well, thank you, Martin.   That will be lovely.”   Harvey replied, a huge surprised, but appreciative, smile on his face.   “My wife will be so pleased.”

“But first we must locate him,”   Joseph interjected.   “Is he here at the moment?”

“I haven’t seen him since he had breakfast this morning, but I don’t think he will be too far away.”

“I think that the sooner we find Vittorio, the sooner we can achieve a conclusion to our own mission.   Then Martin can begin to make whatever arrangements are needed for him.”

“What is your mission, if it is not presumed to be too much of an intrusion into your privacy?” Harvey asked, his tone clearly reflecting the arousal of his curiosity.

The tone, strength and volume of Joseph’s voice never wavered or changed beat as he answered.   “My instincts tell me that you can be both trusted and helpful in our predicament, Harvey, so I will tell you something that you must never repeat to anybody, and I do mean anybody.   We are strangers in the village and we do not know who we can trust, so we are taking a huge risk with you under the circumstances.   And for us to make you trust us I am afraid that, for a variety of reasons, I can only give you vague details.  The same applies to you, Mary.”   Joseph paused for a second – then smiled before continuing, “But you I do trust.”

“Thank you, Joseph.”   Mary’s face flushed brightly for several seconds, but she said no more lest she spoiled the moment.   This morning Mary felt more and more confident that she would achieve her task and get a lot closer to Joseph … and not just for Johann P Biggs.

“Vittorio may very well hold the key to what we seek, ”   Joseph continued, “in fact I feel certain that he does, but I am now also worried about his current ability to understand the urgency of the situation.   Our friend Rosetta is the daughter of Professor Tuscanni, Vittorio is her uncle … and, as was her father a week or so ago, she was attacked last night and left in a coma … and the coma was induced by something injected into her body by the attacker.”

“My god, both father – and daughter; why would somebody do something like that?   Will she recover?”  Harvey asked in surprise, shocked at what Joseph had just told him.

“To answer your second question first, we certainly hope so.   And both of your questions bring us to why we are here at the farm.   Rosetta’s father had found several very valuable items on his last expedition somewhere overseas, and he had brought them here to Trenthamville as somewhere he had considered safe to store them while he searched for a museum to house them permanently.   Now they are missing, and we need to find them to exchange them for the antidote for both Rosetta and her father.

Mary gasped at the realisation of what Joseph was saying about Rosetta.   She had not had an impression in her mind as to what may have caused her coma, but had a shock when the real reason was given.   And she got a bigger shock when it dawned on her just how deep in this mystery Joseph was involved.   That was a shock, and it certainly put him in new light in her mind … and Johann P Biggs now seemed justified in his decision to have him checked out.   What Mary had uncovered so far about this village and the Punjaniti was fascinating enough; the fact that there was more to come and Joseph was involved in all of it raised the adrenaline factor to a new level.   And once again, like Joseph, she seriously wondered what she had gotten herself into … and decided to let the story run without the need for interruptions, rather than ask questions at every opportunity.  But she couldn’t wait for her chance to get Joseph alone.

Harvey was also more than a little interested in what Joseph was about to reveal and he too decided to hear things out before asking questions.

“We are uncertain at this stage as to what was injected into Rosetta’s body,”   Joseph went on, “but we do know for a fact that her father’s condition requires a particular antidote which is not freely available in this country, or most countries for that matter.   Fortunately we have located a source of supply for the antidote, but it is only available to us in exchange for the items we are searching for.   However, there is a time limit involved in finding them, and we are quickly running out of time.”

Martin winced, his ears in disbelief, as Joseph continued to spill the beans on virtually everything they were involved in, in a manner completely contrary to his tirade on all things involved in this case upon their arrival at the farm.

“We searched yesterday without success and have come back to the farm today to try again to find it,”  Joseph continued, “but there is every chance that is has been hidden somewhere away from the farm which is why we need to speak to Vittorio to see if he has any idea where it has been hidden before we do run out of time.   But if we can’t locate it, and he doesn’t know where it is, well … .”   Joseph finished his explanation with a shrug … then had a second thought.   “Harvey, I was wondering … have you been inside the house since that night for any reason at all?

“No, never had any need to.   The hen shed and the yard are all that I need to have access to.   The house has been unoccupied for the past week and a bit, unless Vittorio has been using it, which I somehow doubt.   But whether or not he has, it is unlikely that there would be any maintenance work to be done.  And I am pretty certain that he won’t be in any condition to invite me in for lunch should I run into him.”

“Perhaps you should come in with us.” Joseph suggested in a quiet, but firm voice, “There is something that you need to see to help you understand the need for secrecy … and urgency.”

Harvey hesitated as Joseph spun on his heels without waiting for his answer and headed straight for the house, entering it as soon as he arrived at the front door.   Mary and Martin immediately followed suit.   Harvey, took a deep breath, rolled his eyes and followed them, immediately admitting to himself that he may be making a mistake in doing so.   And as he made his way down the small corridor, past the crucifix and its more recent gory additions and into the next room – he was certain his reservations had been justified.

“Holy mother of God,” he exclaimed upon seeing the dark, smouldering, occasionally crackling, pile of ashes on the floor, and the graffiti all over the walls.   “What is that mess?”   He asked in a shocked voice, “It wasn’t anything like this the last time I was in here a fortnight ago.   Is that where the smoke or fog that I saw was coming from?”   Has this been burning since that night?   That is impossible, surely?”

“We think that is has, Harvey.   Which window did you look through?”

Harvey swung around on his heels searching the room for the window that he had looked through.   “The second last one at the far end.”   Harvey exclaimed, pointing his finger with adrenaline induced vigour,   “That was the window I looked through.   I wouldn’t have seen anything like this from way down there.   I would be at too great an angle, but it is certainly was where I saw the smoke on the floor coming from.”

“You couldn’t see the carpet from back there?”   Joseph asked in confirmation.

“No.   All that I saw was just the smoke or fog that was floating by.  I was expecting to see people; witches to be precise, but I saw nobody.   What is burning?    How can anything burn for so long, and how come we didn’t smell it outside before we came in?”

“We are not certain, Harvey.’  Joseph said with a grin,   “One of life’s great mysteries I should imagine.   It smelt worse when we came here yesterday and we opened some of the windows, so maybe it has calmed down enough for us to not be concerned by it.   You will soon get used to it.   We seem to have.”

“If you say so,”    Harvey agreed, accepting Joseph’s reply with a dubious smile, his tone reinforcing his doubts, “but what is burning?  Do you have any ideas at all?”

Joseph looked Harvey straight in the eye.   His face was deadpan, his voice soft.   “We may be wrong, but we suspect that it might be the remains of some of your witches and warlocks that are smouldering away in there.   We have already retrieved some jewellery as worn by both sexes from the embers.   There is probably more in there, but it is currently too dangerous to attempt to rake through it.   It still seems to be active.

“Oh, my god … no … no way.”   Harvey blurted out in astonishment and horror at the suggestion,   “When I saw two them coming out of the door with Vittorio in tow I thought that the others had used the back door and had all escaped whatever it was that was frightening them.   I can’t even begin to imagine what could have happened in here.   In fact, at first I had half wondered if some elaborate hoax was being played out with the strange light and all, a bit of amusement by some idiots at the expense of the neighbours.  But now … ?   What happened to them?   What possibly could have caused that?   And why is the fire only on the rug, or carpet, or whatever the hell it was before the carnage took place?”

Mary, who had been listening to this conversation in growing disbelief, was horrified at the thought of dead people lying only inches away from where she was standing, charcoaled … or otherwise.   “Joseph what is going on?”  She suddenly blurted out.  The shocked look on Mary’s face, a look demanding to know the truth, but too horrified at the thought of the possibilities to want to know what the truth may hold, tugged at Joseph’s heart.

“We don’t know anything for certain.”   Joseph replied to both of their questions while looking deep into the fiery embers.   As he spoke Joseph was becoming aware of something that he really hadn’t been considering as he brought Harvey partly into his world … Mary!   He had only just now actually acknowledged Mary’s presence in the conversation.   He was used to Rosetta being there, and had momentarily forgotten that there was a replacement in their little group.   He realised that he would have to be more careful in future with what he said, and when and where he said it … or bring Mary completely into their investigation so she wouldn’t be asking awkward questions at the wrong time in front of the wrong people; especially when there was a good chance that they wouldn’t know who the bad guys were simply by looking at them.   Joseph now believed that there were those for their quest, and those against their involvement, both currently residing in the village … and they had no idea who was who.   Prudence would have to be their key word for the duration of their time left in Trenthamville.

To Joseph’s current way of thinking, Mary could quite innocently cause major headaches in respect to their quest.  Mary was smart and confident, and certain to ask questions as soon as something unusual or worrisome cropped up in a conversion.   And Joseph was aware that even a hint of a concerned reaction to something could prove dangerous to their mission if it brought his little group to the attention of the wrong outsiders.   For reasons that even he could not explain clearly, Joseph felt the need for his little group to keep a low profile if they were to expect a happy ending to their quest.   And with the way that the past forty eight hours or so had played out, he knew that it would be almost mission impossible for no more strange events to unfold before they were safely on their way back to London.

Joseph was certain that it would be much to his benefit if he could get Mary out of their hair completely.   But he knew he would have to keep her interested enough in the background of what he was undertaking to refrain her from asking what, exactly, was a clerk from a shipping business in London doing trying to save the lives of an archaeology professor and his beautiful comatose daughter.   How he had gotten away with it so far was a wonder in itself, he thought, and the only thing that made any sense to him was that Mary knew something was up, but her natural curiosity guided her to carry on as if there was nothing unusual going on and wait and see what happened.   Joseph hoped that that was the reason for her silence.   He did not want to go anywhere near the path that led to a thousand other possible reasons for her silence.   There was far too much at stake, far too many people’s lives according to the monk, for him to be found out as an impostor now.   Whatever her reasons, he would have to wait for her to ask him what was going on and hope that she would do so in a situation where he could persuade her to trust him and play along with his deception.   It was at this point that he accepted that because he had let slip the details of the burning carpet to Harvey to try to solicit more background information from him, he may now have to reveal more to Mary.   And it was also at this point that he had realised that he had remembered more about his encounter with Arkerious, than Arkerious had seemed to think he would remember.   But he knew when the Garden of Eden suddenly rolled through the inside of his head at a million frames per second he would have to be very careful of how he handled Mary’s questions when they came.  There was so much at risk if the Punjaniti continued to survive; so many more lost Shangri-Las to come.   Joseph knew that although he hadn’t really done anything wrong with living a little white lie, that would matter not one iota if she did not believe him and exposed him to Martin and Rosetta who were more than likely to dump him on the spot … and if that happened it would be more than just him that would suffer the consequences.   Joseph now truly believed that there were seven universes now praying for him to complete his part of the mission … and if the truth surfaced in the wrong way, then his part in the mission may be very difficult to achieve.   And Joseph doubted very much that there was such a thing as the right way for the truth to surface in this particular case.  The truth, in this particular situation, could prove to be very, very dangerous to everybody concerned except, perhaps, the Punjaniti.

Joseph could not yet fully remember all of the details that Arkerious had revealed to him when he removed his mind from his body, but he could remember enough, saw enough, to ensure himself that he was really meant to be involved in this battle with the Punjaniti … and he was equally certain by now that the search for the missing statue was only one tiny fraction of things to come before the battle was over.   He could not afford to be revealed as a fraud at this point in point, especially now that he understood in the scheme of things he was not a fraud, just not the person they thought him to be.   But, at the moment, both parties needed each other to achieve their separate goals, and a sign of distrust caused by a small, accidental, misleading of identities could bring a major disruption to the ongoing events.   He had to be careful and he had to be lucky.   The fact that Rosetta had refused to believe him when he said he wasn’t who she wanted him to be was immaterial now.   It was now obvious that it was meant for them to join forces, and too late to try and convince her that regardless of the misunderstanding, everything had turned out right, that they were now the team they had been meant to be.

Joseph also realised that bringing Mary in to this little group on a more permanent basis was something that he would have to weigh up very carefully, and perhaps discuss with Martin before making a final decision … without giving the real reasons as to why he needed to bring her into their quest: ‘the fact that he is not who Martin thinks him to be’.    And for him to tell Martin the truth, Joseph decided, he may as well let Mary reveal it because it was going to cause mistrust regardless of whoever revealed it.    Martin, of course, was also a thorn in Joseph’s side because he had misled both him and Rosetta.   He was here because he had become infatuated with a pretty girl and the promise of an Indiana Jones like weekend adventure.   Not because it was written in the stars that he was preordained to lead a search party, to rescue those that needed rescuing, and to do battle with a creature from outer space.   And yet, according to the memories that had been flooding into his mind since he had spoken with Arkerious, everything seemed to indicate, in a manner, that was exactly what he was doing because according to Arkerious, he had already travelled deep in that path … and was, apparently, now doing it all over again.

Joseph had a sudden thought;  If memories were returning before they had happened, then he must also be from the future.  But why would he need to be brought back in time.  It puzzled him at first because it didn’t make sense.  Then it hit him … he needed access to those memories that are yet to come to have an equal footing against his new enemy, and to minimize the advantage that they would now have had if he was just starting out, but did that mean there were now two of him in this time-zone?   Wouldn’t that cause a paradox? he wondered.

“Excellent thinking, Joseph.”   The sound of Arkerious’s voice literally made Joseph jump, and he spun around on heels in search of the hooded monk.   But he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.”

“Joseph are you alright?”   Mary asked with concern,   “You startled me.”

“I am sorry,” he replied quickly,” I thought that I heard something.”

“Oh, that’s alright then.   I was frightened that you were regressing back to where you were earlier.

“No, I am fine, thank you.  Sorry, I frightened you.”   Joseph’s cheeky smile disarmed Mary’s worried look and she gave a reciprocal smile in return.   But before she could say whatever words were forming on her lips Joseph’s phone burst into the Doctor Who theme.

“Excuse me, please.”   Joseph grinned as Mary rolled her smiling eyes at his theme song.

“Hello.”

“Please control yourself, Joseph,”   Arkerious said in a soft , slow tone,”  You can only hear me at the moment, not see me.   But for your own safety we need to talk telepathically.   Simply think what you want to say instead of opening your mouth to talk.   It will seem strange at first, but you will soon get used to it.   Actually, I will contact you later; when it is a bit safer to talk.   In the meantime, in answer to your concern, it has only been your memories that have been transferred back in time for the reasons that you thought they may have.   All going well they should stand you in good stead.  I will contact you again when you have retired for the night.   You will find by then that we have many things to discuss.”

“Everything alright, Joseph?”  Mary asked as Joseph returned his phone to his pocket.

“For the moment, everything seems to be getting there.”   Joseph replied with a weary sigh and a half-hearted smile.   “Now, Harvey,about finding Vittorio … .”

Joseph was finding it difficult to concentrate fully on anything following Arkerious’s unexpected call, but he was glad that he had received confirmation of the new memories.   The last thing he wanted was a flooding of nonsensical memories floating around the inside of his mind.   At least he had been forewarned of their eventual arrival in the internal post and he knew it would be best to listen closely to whatever they told him, and try his best to understand them.

And then he became so busy deciding how he was going to cope with mind to mind  conversations with Arkerious without opening his mouth at least a dozen times or more to talk, he failed to hear the two loud noises that took place somewhere outside the house.   Two completely distinguishable, different, sounds, that came from two completely different areas of the farm.

********

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Episode 43

   “I have no idea what I really saw in there,” Joseph stated the minute that they drove off from the garage, “but it was a lot more than a trip on petrol fumes I can assure you.   It scared half my life out of me.   I think that we should try to get back to town in time to see that garage mechanic and ask him more about it.   He seemed to know more than he was willing to divulge.   There was a knife that was floating in the air, you know, and it did try to kill me.   And I just realised something.  It had jewels on its handle.”

   “I don’t disbelieve you, Joseph.”   Martin replied in a subdued voice.   “But I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary until I came across you lying on the floor.  However, I will admit to finding an unsettling aura in the room.   Something did not seem right, but I assumed my thinking involved you, and your current disposition.   I am sorry if I doubted you earlier.   You said just now that the knife had jewels on the handle.   You don’t suppose that it was this Punjaniti thing that you saw, do you?   The knife seemed very similar in detail to how Rosetta described the one her father had brought back with the statue.”

   “An ancient god living in a photograph in the twenty first century?  I doubt it, Martin.  I know that accommodation is declining world wide, but I doubt that it is that bad just yet … even for a monster from Mars, or wherever it originated.   Mind you, there is a belief in some countries that photographs can steal souls, but I don’t even know what that thing was.   I certainly don’t think that it had a soul … and I don’t think that thing was human either.   Maybe it was one of the local soothsayer’s pets from the other world.”

   “Soothsayer?”  Martin asked in  surprise.

“The man we met yesterday: Laurie.   Didn’t he say that he was some kind of white witch?   The protector of the village?   Or perhaps it was the chief of the bad guy witches  that has a connection with it?   Perhaps the creature bit the hands of those that fed it.   Anyway let’s just forget it for a while.   It was unreal.   It could never have happened.   A strange monster could not have risen from its cave deep inside a photograph of a farmhouse and  try to decapitate me.  It was my imagination … surely?   Imagination inspired by the vapours from the grease and oils as you so rightly put it.”

“Are you having doubts about our mission, Joseph – even after what we have encountered over the past day and a bit?”

“Yes, to be honest.   Especially after what we have been told by the locals,  and what happened to Rosetta last night.   When Rosetta first told me about her father, the background to his recent life, and what was needed to be done it all sounded a bit like the outline of a new India Jones movie, but a bit of a hoot at the same time.    To be perfectly honest Rosetta is an extremely beautiful woman and I found her and her story totally beguiling.so I had no problem offering to help her.   But now, after what happened to me in that garage just now, it has made me bring everything into question.   When you think about it, the whole thing seems incredulous.   Too incredulous to take it all seriously.    There are parts of the events that ring as possible truths: Rosetta’s father did find a statue and a knife that once was in possession of a cult.   There is no reason to doubt that the Punjani exist and are paying Ravi to return it to them.   There is no doubt that Rosetta and her father are both in a life-threatening coma and require help.   There is no doubt that their condition was brought about by an unlawful injection by person or persons unknown.  And there is no reason to doubt that the Punjani do have an antidote that will save both of them.  But that is where truth disappears from our story.

Whilst the statue seemingly does exist, whether it is connected to some demonic god of yore or not is irrelevant.   What is relevant is that the Punjani want it and are willing to pay for its return by way of the antidote for Rosetta’s father, and now Rosetta.   And that is all that we should be concentrating on – finding the statue, getting the antidote and getting out of this damned weird little village.   No more thoughts of the world ending, invasions  by gigantic demons, no more sci-fi, or dead bodies smouldering on an ever-burning carpet.   No more tales of witches and ghosts of the long gone past.   We are letting coincidences and imagination play too big a part of our lives at the moment.   We need to momentarily clear our minds, start over from scratch, and set our minds on double checking what clues we have … and at the same time try to uncover new clues.   Our time is precious.   We need to utilise every second we have and get this all sorted by no later than tomorrow … for everybody’s good.”

Joseph’s outburst took Martin by surprise, and it caused him to reflect on the reason for his original question.   Several seconds elapsed before he finally got the courage to continue with his attempt to relate to Joseph the new information regarding their quest that he had received the previous night.   Important information that he had been forced to retain unshared in his mind as a result of the attack on Rosetta.   Joseph’s words had given Martin the assurance that what he wanted to share with him, was not going to be well received.   But he knew that it had to be done

   “Maybe it’s just using it as a base or something until it can enter our world .”   Martin eventually offered.

   Joseph looked at Martin and thought about his suggestion. 

   “I have read about spirits that supposedly use a medium to make contact with the living, regardless of the feelings of  their chosen medium who may very well prefer not to be involved.    Perhaps something is using the photograph of the farm because the objects of its desire are still there.   But why would it show me the people I saw there?”  In fact why would it show me anything, far less attack me.   If it wanted me to see something useful to somebody else it could have chosen a far better way than to frighten the life out of me.

   “Maybe it was trying to kill you.  Perhaps it may have recognised you as its mortal enemy and decided to get rid of you for once and all,” Martin laughed, and then suddenly his voice adopted a slightly more serious tone.  “Perhaps it wasn’t the Punjaniti that tried to make contact with you.   Maybe somebody else is channelling in on the photograph.   Perhaps you were meant to see it.”

   “You suddenly seemed well informed on all things abnormal, Martin.   What’s going on?    Are you suddenly in league with the witches, white or otherwise?   Or is your mind deteriorating in all this fresh country air.   The whole thing is ridiculous.   Even Raji and his Punjanas.    Sounds like bananas, doesn’t it?   Which is probably where you and I are heading.   You were right the first time, Martin … the garage was full of fumes, and that is what gave me the delusion that people were running around inside a stupid, and badly taken, photograph being chased by demons.   And now it seems to have affected you as well by becoming sucked into my imagination.   I am truly becoming worried that at the end of the day Rosetta and her father will be no better off than they are now.   And they might stay that way forever.   Let’s just hope and pray that we find that stupid statue and the Punjani are true to their word about the antidote working.”

   Martin didn’t reply at first, instead, for a second or two, he took his eyes off the road and looked hard at Joseph as if he was deciding whether to say anything or not, then finally he turned his eyes back to the road and spoke. 

    “Joseph, it is obvious that you are both worried and frustrated, and tired no doubt, as I am.   And, yes, the whole thing does seem like something conjured up by Stephen King or H.G.Wells.   But there is something that I must tell you.   Last night, after you left, the hotel manger, William Jones and I had a rather lengthy chat.  Or, at least we were, until the news of you and Rosetta was relayed downstairs.  It appears that he is some kind of intermediary between the unknown and humans.  Not like some of those fake spiritualists and mediums that you hear about, but the genuine article.  He was able to tell me exactly what had happened yesterday afternoon at the farm, even to the point where you threw that chicken over the rug and it exploded.   He knows why we were here in the village.   He told me that we were being warned that we were up against something that we didn’t yet know how to handle, something very dangerous, and that we were in a lot deeper than we imagined.   But this was not a warning for us to butt out and mind our own business – it was the complete opposite.    It was given in an attempt to give us a hand in completing  our task.   He also told me that our visit was preordained, and that it had been manipulated by a very interested party on the other side.”

   “On the other side of, what exactly?”  Joseph asked with a disbelieving smile of on his face.   “The side fence, our choice in politics, the other side of the world?   What did he mean, Martin … spooks and demons and all that sort of thing?”

   Martin shrugged.  “He didn’t elaborate, he just said the other side – I didn’t press the point, and of course we were interrupted before he had finished the conversation … so I never got the chance to ask any questions.   But that doesn’t matter, he wants me to bring you and Mary to see him and he will explain more.   You in particular.   He said Mary was deeply involved in our quest, though she was unaware that she was, as was somebody else that we hadn’t yet met: the village doctor: Peter James – I think that he said that was the doctor’s name.   Oh, and that fellow Laurie and his niece Malena we met at the hotel yesterday.  Apparently we are all part of a bigger game that’s being played out … a much, much bigger game. There were two or three others involved, William said. but he didn’t mention their name.   He said that they would become involved when their time was right.   He was starting to tell me something about what happened to some local witches at the farmhouse when he got called away because of what had happened to you and Rosetta.”

   “Yes, poor Rosetta.”   Joseph momentarily transferred his thoughts to Rosetta.  To what had happened to her.   To the guilt he felt because in his mind he had convinced himself that had he arrived at the room a minute earlier he could have saved her.   For the umpteenth time since he had regained consciousness in Rosetta’s bathroom a cloud of anger rolled through his mind and without thinking he began to direct his anger and frustration to the nearest target … Martin.   “Tell me, Martin,” Joseph snarled, his tongue dripping with sarcasm and disbelief at Martin’s acceptance of an obvious con man.   “Your clairvoyant, William the hotel manager, did he tell you what happened to Rosetta, why she was attacked … or who the wild man at the farm was?   It could very well have been him that broke into the room.” 

   Martin ignored the tone in Joseph’s voice, because he too felt anger inside him at being unable to protect his friend.  “No.” he replied, “William had described his appearance at the farm exactly the way it had occurred,  knew that he existed, and said that it was possible that he did know who he was, but said it was better that we found out for ourselves in order to deal with the situation when the time comes.   What William explained to me, or at least, the way that I understood it, he has ‘visits’ from a guardian whose task it is to protect the village.  Perhaps William was describing a much wider scope of protection, I am not absolutely certain, there was so much to take in, but I do know for certain that the village was under the guardian’s protection for some particular reason.   But, again, I am unclear as to whether William suggested the reason for the protection during the conversation, or simply mentioned it in passing..   I am sorry if I am a bit vague, but it had been a long day, I had had a few drinks and what William was telling me was blowing my mind as the young people say.

   “You’re sure that you weren’t talking to Rod Serling?,” Joseph laughed.

   “Who?”  Martin asked quizzically.

   “The Twilight Zone!   T.V. show in the sixties and eighties.  All sci-fi and supernatural things.   What you are telling me is something that show would come up with.    It’s all fantasy, Martin.”   Joseph replied, barely able to suppress further laughter, but Martin simply rolled his eyes and continued with his story.   

   “It is William’s job to call up the appropriate power to deflect the evil when he senses its appearance in the village or the surrounding areas.   Apparently, under normal circumstances, this is not too hard to accomplish.   It would appear that the ‘evil’ that exists in the village is usually something that the local band of would-be witches conjure up by accident and have no experience in controlling.   Apparently there are hundreds of non-human entities that have resided in the woods and fields that surround the village over the centuries, the majority of which have been successfully banished into a phantom zone …. a time that exists somewhere between our time and their past time, sandwiched somewhere between yesterday and today.   Unfortunately for the village the Trenthamville witches have somehow come in possession of an ancient manuscript which deals with calling these strange beings back into our time, and when they arrive in the village their first victims are usually  the witches themselves.   Then the witches find that they cannot reverse the spell and it is up to William to correct the situation before it gets too far out of hand.    Of course, the witches have no idea that it is William that saves them, and he prefers it this way.   The witches think that the creatures that they have conjured up have gone into hiding and are still somewhere in the woods.

   William says that he is a true white witch, and has had training so that he can reverse these incarnations relatively easily.   But the day Rosetta’s father arrived in the village something totally demonic came with him, and William is still trying to grasp the enormity of this intrusion.  He has no idea as to how to handle the situation, however, his spiritual advisor, the guardian, has told him that in this particular instance he can only guide.   The real power to destroy this evil lies somewhere between the ten of us.   With you, me and Mary playing the major roles.”

   Joseph found this conversation getting more bizarre by the minute and decided that a change of conversation was in order.

   “Wow, the British Avengers, U.K. bad asses on the trail of creatures from outer space.   Who would have thought,”   Joseph noted in a sarcastic tone.   “And I forgot to take my radioactive supplement this morning at breakfast.   I sure hope that I don’t need to use my super-powers before I have my dinner.”

   “There’s no need to be sarcastic, Joseph.”   Martin scalded,   “Some super-powers might have saved Rosetta last night.   And for that matter, you may just have been lucky that they left just as you arrived, or you may very well have joined her.”

   “I’m sorry, Martin, it’s just that it all sounds so ridiculous   I am no more a super-hero than I am an ex-Beatle or a movie star.   But you are right … I was very lucky.   Poor Rosetta will now need our help every bit as much as her father does.   It is rather ironic that she suffered a similar fate to her father while trying to help him.  The nurse told me that the doctor had suggested that whatever had been injected in her should wear off in a few days, however I doubt that.   It is my guess that it is the same drug that placed her father into a coma.   But how do we suggest that to anybody without bringing suspicion on ourselves … especially when you consider the background to the story, and our dealings with the Punjani.   And how can we explain what we seem to have gotten ourselves into to the police should they become involved.   I have no idea who did this to her, or why, but I doubt that it was the Punjani because they had nothing to gain.   And while it is possible that it was them and they assumed that we had already located the whereabouts of the statue, it is doubtful that they would make the same mistake twice and take Rosetta out of the equation before they found out where it was.   And, of course, we haven’t identified its whereabouts.   Nor do we have anything that gives us a clue to where it is hiding.   To me this suggests that there is somebody else interested in the statue and they might be trying to scare us off.   I think that the quicker that we find the statue, and exchange it for the antidote, the better it will be for all.   I may feel inwardly that whatever it is these parties believe the statue will give them, they are in for a huge disappointment, but, at the same time, I don’t want to find us caught up in some kind of cult gang war.    And when we do find it, I certainly hope that the Punjani are in a generous mood and supply us with enough antidote to bring Rosetta back into our world as well as her father.”

   “Yes.  Don’t worry, Joseph, we will … I am absolutely sure of it.  How is your head feeling?”

   “The pain killers are working well, thanks, but I’ve brought the whole packet just in case.”

   “That was some fall you had.  Your head must be rock solid.  You managed to nearly split a small table in half and smash a vase into a thousand pieces … and didn’t even get a scratch.  If it had been me I think that I would have bled to death before they found me.”   Martin said jokingly in order to keep the conversation light-hearted.   He knew Joseph’s reaction to what he had told him about William was  justified.   It seemed a lot to take in, but as he, himself, had begun questioning the situation there had been things that William had said in the conversation that had made Martin believe in what he was being told.   ‘Joseph will come around in time,’ he thought, ‘no need to keep bumbling along with it at the moment.   And Joseph had been right, there were more important things to be done first, things like locating the statue’.

********

   Joseph simply grunted in reply to Martin’s jovial comments as his head begun thumping again, and he said no more as his mind set about controlling the action of his hand and prevented it from taking a premature pain killer.   ‘Four hours apart,’ he reminded himself, ‘not two if I want not to get sick.

********

   They drove on in silence for a while – then Joseph spoke again, “Martin.  Sorry I was so short a few minutes ago.   I was just thinking about what I said earlier.   “Are we to assume that Rosetta was also attacked by the Punjani?   Are we absolutely certain that it wasn’t somebody else?”

   “My guess would be that we should suspect the Punjani.  Who else could it be?”

   “But why would they do that?   If they had already found the statue then they would not have needed to bother us.  And if they still needed us to help them find them then they would not have tried to hinder us in our investigation.  No – I don’t think that it was the Punjani.   But I have no idea who that could be.   Considering the state of the room somebody must have thought that Rosetta had something that they wanted, but I have no idea what.”

   “Perhaps it was the diary?”

   “No, it was still sitting on the sideboard after I came to.  I remember seeing it, though it’s not much good to us now that Rosetta can’t interpret it.”

   “What about the ring?”

   “No.  I have that.  Rosetta gave it to me just before she left us after dinner.”

   “Perhaps the person who attacked her didn’t realize that.  Maybe that’s why they tore her clothes off.  Perhaps they were checking that she wasn’t wearing it on her body on a chain or something.”

   “There’s a strong possibility that you are right, Martin.  But if it wasn’t the Punjani, then who the hell was it?”

   “I don’t know, but here we are.”  Martin swung the wheel hard and dropped back on his speed as they made their way up the dirt road that was the entrance to Foster’s farm … and as he did so he failed to notice the long, black, shiny limousine driven by the diminutive roly-poly man that had been following them since they left the garage.

********

   The limousine continued to drive slowly past the farm until Joseph and Martin were out of sight – then it reversed and also went up the driveway, stopping just out of sight from anyone looking back from the farm.  The driver got out of the car and walked up the remainder of the small hill that the driveway was on.   Safely hidden by the last of the tall trees he observed where the other cars were situated before returning to the limousine and parking it behind the barn in much the same fashion that Mary had done the previous day.

********

Go to Episode 44

 

 

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SHORT FAT STUBBY FINGER STORIES PRESENTS:

Episode 42

Parts 1 – 2

Part 1

Saturday morning:   “A lot busier than it was when we arrived yesterday.”   Martin commented as he joined the closest of the two lines which placed him six cars from the sole petrol bowser operating on that side of the lane, rather than the second lane where an old farm truck was the sole occupant.   Martin presumed it had something to do with the steam bellowing out of the engine through the open bonnet, though he couldn’t understand why it had been left there, rather than pushed out of the way.    However, Joseph, who had a different view of the vehicle, seemingly reading Martin’s mind, made an observation that eased Martin’s aggression somewhat.

“Whatever is wrong with that truck,”   Joseph stated off offhandedly,  “there is a massive oil leak occurring, and I can see something that I think is metal covered with oil that seems to be stuck in an upright position on the ground and going back into the vehicle.   I am certainly not going to get out to have a look with all that oil, but I am assuming  something has broken off the engine on that antique, and perhaps they can’t just move it.”

Martin looked at Joseph and shook his head in disbelief.   “And I notice that Frank is serving the customers, one at a time.”   He noted,  “My guess is that self-serve is still a long way away for Trenthamville.    However, we need those torches and I will need more petrol.   There is no way that I can get out of this queue for a while, but there is room to park once we get past the bowser.   Well, we tried our best to get a good start.   I guess that somethings can’t be helped.”   They had tried their best to leave early, but certain arrangements regarding Rosetta were needed to be put in place before they could leave for the farm, and it seemed that the unavoidable delays were quickly putting a strain on their time agenda.   They really had to find the statue today … or, at the very least, a damn good clue as to its whereabouts.  They only had two more full days left, along with the remainder of this day, to still have the agreement from the Punjani in place.   There were other things to worry them as well, but fortunately for their state of mind at the moment, there was at least one problem that they were not aware of.   Mary had arrived at the garage fifteen minutes before them and had just exited as they drove in.   This had not been in their plans.   They had intended to be at farm searching at least an hour before she arrived.   They felt it would be much safer for everybody if it was not her that found the statue, even by accident.   Certainly a problem if somebody was watching her when she found it … especially if there had been anybody watching her when she found it.   They knew too well that whoever it was that had attacked Rosetta and Joseph – they were not concerned who got hurt – nor how badly.

Fortunately for their current state of anxiety they were blissfully unaware that she was already on her way to the farm … and they also did not notice the long shiny black limousine with a London number plate parked out of sight at the side of the garage.   Nor did they notice the man in the driver’s seat: the short, roly-poly, driver who sat biding his time sucking slowly on a long cigar, and gently stroking his fingers across the leather steering wheel as he watched them enter the queue.

********

   Frank happened to look down the line as the top driver moved off and saw the Mercedes.   A huge grin covered his face as he indicated ‘one minute, please’ to the driver who had now moved to the head of the line and headed down towards Joseph and Martin.    “Good Morning, Martin, Joseph.   Heading out to the farm to collect the professor’s things?”  Frank asked, “I have a trailer you can use if you need one.”

“Good morning, Frank,”   Martin replied,   “Yes, we are going to the farm, and I will bear your offer in mind.    There is every possibility that we might need a trailer.   We will know more when we sort through everything.   But in the meantime we need some torches.  Do you carry them?”

“Well, I do carry torches, but I am afraid that I haven’t got the time to help you at the moment as you can see.   And poor old Harry isn’t helping matters much with his truck breaking down.   Bad spot for it to start to fall to pieces.   I won’t be able to even look at it until Tuesday, and it will first have to be towed over to the workshop and Freddy Johnson is stuck up at the motorway off ramp helping with the clean up from the big accident that took place there yesterday.   Could be there for another couple of days, he thinks, so Harry’s truck is stuck there until he gets back.    With the two lanes open I could do two cars at once.   It is always busy on a Saturday morning when everybody goes off touring, so I can usually have the cars using the lane that suits their car’s petrol cap location.   But as it is I have to keep on swapping sides to fill them for every car as they move through.    If you don’t mind, you can serve yourself for the torches and fix me up later when its a bit quieter, or down at the Rat and Mouse this evening.   Though one of you should stay in the car so you can keep moving the car up the line.    It shouldn’t take too long.   Oh, and don’t forget the batteries.   Some of the torches have been on the shelf for a while, so their batteries may be flat.   There are new batteries up the front near the cash register if you need them.   Not much call for torches around here.   Most folks just use their phones unless its a major blackout.   I only keep them in stock for emergencies and the tourists … and they don’t need them very often.”

“I’ll go in.”   Joseph volunteered, “I think I remember seeing a self serve coffee machine the other day.  Does it work, and is the coffee alright?”

“Mary liked it,”   Frank said with a grin, “I think she had three the other morning, or perhaps it was four.”

“You have sold me, Frank.   Would you like one, Martin?”

“A short black would be absolutely perfect for my head this morning.   No sugar.”

“Right, then I’m on my way.”   Joseph got out of the car with a spring at the thought a fresh, hot, latte, and disappeared into the shop in a split second.

“Well, I had better get back to my customers.”  Frank said before turning around and scampering back to his waiting customers

“Thank you, Frank.”   Martin called out to the fast moving garage mechanic as he reached forward and pressed a button, then settled back against the headrest to pleasantly absorb at least ten minutes of Beethoven and Liszt.

********

Joseph got a surprise at the huge amount of items on display in the shop and thought for a moment that he might actually be in a corner shop in London, rather than a rural garage.

But then he noticed the coffee machine, its guarantee that a latte was made on fresh milk, and his priorities moved into place …  less than a minute later a joyful smile covered his face as he sipped on the warm, exquisite tasting, liquid.   He had decided that it would be of no use for him to make Martin’s coffee immediately.   That would place an encumbrance on his maneuverability.   It was something that could easily be done once he had completed his mission and located the torches.   In the meantime he had a chore to do that required two hands.  One to eventually retrieve the appliance from its resting place and test its batteries, and the other to lift the sweet elixir of life to his mouth.

Now, happy and content with life, Joseph looked around the room in search of his treasure.    There were eighteen racks in total, nine per side, all covered in a wide variety of hang sells and shelves, and divided by a pathway that merged with a large open space at the far end of the room.

The racks closest to the front seemed only to offer sweets, chocolates and a variety of papers and magazines.   Joseph gave his search plan a two second once over in his mind and decided that he would be better off starting at the bottom racks.   Frank had mentioned that they weren’t prime sellers, so it was only fair to assume that low selling items would not be given prime display locations.

Sipping on his coffee, Joseph wandered down the middle of the aisle and turned to the rack on his right once he reached the last row … and was instantly rewarded as he saw a small selection of torches on display at the far end of the first rack that he looked down.

Joseph immediately moved towards his quarry and was beginning to raise a large,  rubber covered, torch from its hang nail, when an intense flash of sharp light caught the far corner of his eye.   Instinct caused his head to spin sharply around to find the source of the light and it was at this stage that Joseph realised that the large open area at the back of the shop was in fact an L-shaped extension of the garage workshop that ran parallel with the shop on the other side of the long wall.   But there was no light similar to the one that had attracted his attention showing anywhere in this end of the room.   Nor did the room seem conducive to such a light in this area.   There were only overhead neon lights in the ceiling, and solid brick walls surrounding the interior in this area.   There were certainly opportunities for sharp streaks of light to reflect from the outside and penetrate the front end of the room, but certainly nothing that could reach the area that Joseph was viewing.

Then, unexpectedly, the flash reoccurred and Joseph was surprised when he realised the sharp white light had emitted from an A4 sized, unframed, photograph nailed loosely against the garage wall.    And to add to his curiosity he was absolutely certain that the light was pulsating.    He couldn’t make out the details of the photograph itself from this distance, but he was absolutely certain that a light was throbbing right in the middle of it.   And the more he looked at it, the more he thought it looked so odd and out of place where it had been put up on show.    His curiosity aroused, Joseph tested two torches, found that they both worked, placed one under one arm and one in his hand so he could carry both and still sip on his coffee, and then walked over to have a better look at the photo.  And as he cast his eyes over it, it seemed to Joseph that it really was a strange place to display a photo, never mind such an apparently bad one as this, and that alone instantly increased his curiosity.   He really needed to know the reason for displaying it.

The picture had at first seemed out of focus, but as his eyes made closer contact with it Joseph soon realised that it was only out of focus in the focal point of the photo … the strange light that seemed to extend from the ground to the heavens above.   The rest of the images, the farmhouse and the people running around outside of it, were all clear images, though he had no idea what the punters were all doing other than running around with scared looks on their faces.    But he was right in what he thought he had seen earlier, the strange light did seem to pulsate.    Then Joseph was forced to blink a couple of times as, for a fraction of a second or two, his eyes played tricks on him.  The photograph suddenly seemed to broadcast a live image, like a television, and he could see three men suddenly burst out through the front door of the farmhouse.   Two of then ran towards the light in the middle of the yard, their faces appeared contorted in absolute fear, and then the light consumed them and they disappeared.   The other man ran in a different direction, far from the light … then suddenly stopped and looked back to the light that rose from the ground.   His face, distorted in the glow, also had a look of fear and madness about it.   Somehow that face looked strangely familiar to Joseph, but before he could study it further, the man turned and ran off, disappearing into the assumed safety of the tree lined darkness.

Joseph shook his head in disbelief, wondering just how bad the knock to his head the previous evening had really been; wondering if he was suffering delayed concussion, but immediately dismissed the thought from his mind and turned his attention back to the photograph again.   However, this time it was simply a still photo of Forster’s farm which he now recognised, and all he could see was the farmhouse and a distortion in the middle of the picture.   Whatever gave the illusion of moving images was no longer active, and nor was the pulsating glow.

Suddenly Joseph’s phone screamed out so loudly in the quiet room it gave him a start that nearly ended up with his dropping his coffee.   However, he somehow managed to maintain his grip, placed the coffee and the two torches on the nearest rack, and answered his phone.   “Martin.   What’s up?”

“Everything alright in there, old chap.   Have you found the torches?”

“Yes.   I also found a very strange photograph of the farm pinned to the wall.”

“Well, tell me all about it when you get back in the car.  I am only two places from the bowser.   Don’t worry about my coffee.   My headache has passed thanks to Liszt”

“Alright, I am on my way.”

Joseph took a last swallow of his latte from the now empty cup, picked up the two torches and began to move towards the front of the garage when instinct made him turn around just in time to see something shaped like a smoke-filled, mini whirlwind emitting from the photograph and moving towards him at a slow, but ever-increasing speed … and enlarging in equal measure as it moved.    Then Joseph suddenly realised that it wasn’t actually moving forward, but it was increasing in size so quickly it just gave the illusion that it was.   However, that understanding did little to reduce the fear and tension that was quickly filling his mind and body, as the grey fog like wind spun faster and faster in an ever expanding circle.   He could feel the skin on his hands and face flapping in a manner similar to sky divers during free fall, and he wondered if his skin was going to burst with the pressure the wind was  now applying to his body.   Joseph also feared for his life from the hundreds of missiles that the whirlpool was collecting from the racks and shelves and hurling in every direction a second later at what seemed to be over one hundred miles per hour, though, to his relief, not straight at him.    But how he had not already been partially decapitated, or finding himself minus several pieces of his fragile body, was well beyond him.   The whirlpool was getting stronger and stronger, and his instincts were no longer helping him to survive either.   He had no idea whether he should try and run for the front door, drop to the floor and lay flat.. or close his eyes and hope the end would quickly arrive.   And to make matters worse he could feel a wetness beginning to encompass his entire body; wet where the skin was exposed, and wet where the skin was located under the protection of his clothes … and he knew it must be blood that he felt, for it was warm on his body, and moving freely.   Yet he saw not an ounce of damage to his exposed body, not a drop of red on his clothes.   And the only thought that was anywhere close to reality that floated through his fast disintegrating mind was the question, ‘why!’  

   Then suddenly the wind ceased.   His skin began to dry immediately.    Whatever was flowing endlessly on his skin suddenly ceased to move … and the whirlwind was replaced by a slow moving black and red smoke that wafted and swirled across the length and width of the extended workshop at the bottom of the room.   Muted lightning now flashed continuously throughout the bright fog that filled the air, lightning flashing so constantly it was as if he was in a room full of fluorescent lights all wearing out simultaneously.   Then suddenly the room went cold.    The black and red smoke ceased to roll – and then a blast of lightning exploded so loudly Joseph thought that the roof and wall were about to cave in.   Joseph was becoming so frightened of the unknown aggression that now filled the room he felt his heart was going to burst in response to the fear and confusion that now resided within him – and when the entire room suddenly disappeared into the deepest, blackest, darkness, without a hint of even a sliver of light visible, he thought it possible that perhaps it had.

Submerged in the pure darkness there was nothing but the sound of the unknown to be heard and gnaw away at Joseph’s ever diminishing saneness.   Invisible cockroaches scuffling around his feet.   Perhaps a mouse or two sniffing out edible products from the bottom shelf to be opened and devoured by their short sharp teeth.  Scraping sounds that couldn’t be identified in any way.   Loud, hostile, threatening, but indescribable sounds hammered at his senses from all directions.   And somewhere in the room, heavy breathing echoed off the wall and ceiling: a short, sharp, raspy sound that seemed to come from the bowels of the earth.   A threatening, obnoxious sound like there was something completely unpalatable caught in a larynx that couldn’t be disgorged easily.   Joseph’s nerves were on edge.   In his mind’s current condition he couldn’t tell if it was some humongous life-threatening monster that was about to rip him to shreds, or swallow him whole … or simply the sound of his own dried-out throat choking in its need for quenching and extraction from fear.

But before he could give it any more thought the bottom end of the room once again became brightly lit, albeit in a vivid red and gold spray of light.   And in the middle of it small blue and silver sparks became air-borne, moving through the strange background in a manner similar to the burning end of a child’s hand-held Guy Fawkes sparkler.    At first it began to rotate around and around the room in the excited erratic direction a young user would take.   And the more distance it moved through the strange, eerie, red and gold world at the end of the store, the more erratic its behaviour became.   Within less than seven seconds the size of the sparks had increased to a presence that all but encompassed the entire section where the red and gold light resided … then the room EXPLODED into darkness once again.   But almost immediately another crack of lightning engulfed the room, but this time the sound was accompanied by a streak of lightning that came through the roof and seemingly embedded itself in the floor, and as it landed – stormy, grey clouds came out of nowhere and quickly began curling themselves around the still visibly embedded streak of lightning.   As the lightening began to disappear behind the thickening cloud, red flashes, increasing in quantity and strength began to appear … and then Joseph got the shock of his life as the entire stage show he was watching suddenly appeared to be blasted to pieces as something huge; something unbelievably huge … exploded into view in its place.   Joseph could not believe his eyes as the mix of storm clouds and lightning suddenly ran amok across the width and depth of the shop  to the accompaniment of dozens and dozens of claps of thunder… and Joseph’s eyes were drawn to the ceiling where he saw a face that took his breath away … a face that he knew instinctively was Rangor: the Punjaniti.

And as the most frightening, fearful face and body that he could ever imagine appeared before his terrified eyes … Joseph prayed for his own soul as his now fear addled mind numbly awaited the plunge to his fast beating heart by the huge knife that wavered above his head, a knife that threatened to strike him down the second it pleased.   And it did come down, screaming down … screaming down as if in response to his fear, screaming down so fast it was but a blur.   The world that now surrounded him began to wash over him like a fog, and as he saw the tip of the blade as it made its way to extinguish his relatively short life, his defences gave out.   The heat and odour that was the breath of his nemesis spread itself across every pore of his body; an obnoxious, repugnant, smell so strong it smothered his senses to the point Joseph fell backwards as the knife was rammed down so hard it was smashed to the hilt into the wooden floor where Joseph’s unconscious body lay.

********

EPISODE 42

PART 2

“Joseph what are you doing down there?   Are you alright?   Martin asked with concern.

“Martin, is that you?” Joseph slowly opened one eye and found Martin crouched down beside him.  “Watch out for the creature.”  He warned his friend as he suddenly jumped up in fright, quickly turning  his head in every direction possible as he tried to locate the Punjaniti.

“What creature?   Martin asked in surprise at Joseph’s words.  Did you pass out, or did you trip and hit your head?”

“The one that caused all this damage.  The one that has spread itself across the ceiling above us.”

“What damage?”

“Don’t tell me you can’t see all this?”   A bewildered Joseph asked as he looked around at the area torn up by the large bolt of lighting that had injected itself into it, and the gaping hole in the roof the bolt had made on entry.    He then turned his attention to the ceiling, but was surprised that the creature was no longer to be seen, and he shook his head in disbelief.   “The bolt of lightning stuck in the floor over there?”   Joseph asked indignantly, pointing at the object as he spoke.   “Do you see it?”

Martin didn’t bother looking up, instead he reached out with his hand and felt Joseph’s forehead, but it wasn’t feverish.   “I will ask you again, Joseph.   Did you fall, and bang your head on one of the shelves?”  Or do you think that it is a relapse caused by what happened last night?   I need to know in case we should be going to the doctors, not the farm.”

Joseph was at a loss for words.   He knew what he had seen had been real.   The darkness, the light, the lightning bolt.   Despite the creature’s sudden disappearance … he had seen the Punjaniti … and it had tried to kill him.  ‘Why couldn’t Martin see what he could see?   he wondered, ‘all he needed to do was look.’

“There are petrol and oil smells in here.”   Martin pointed out in a gentle tone,   “Fumes can often affect the senses and make you imagine things.  Perhaps you were just on a bit of a high before you passed out.”

Joseph considered arguing with Martin, but decided against it.   He knew what he had seen, what he could still see – he was absolutely certain about it.   ‘So why couldn’t Martin see it?’ he wondered.   ‘Maybe William had an answer for it.   Would Frank notice the damage?’   “Yes.  You are probably right, Martin.”   Joseph finally admitted,    “Felt real, though.  Let’s go and pay for these, then get some fresh air.”

Martin reached down and helped Joseph to his feet and the two men began the journey to the front entrance.   However, as they reached the exit, Joseph had to have one last look at the damage and carnage that had taken place inside the shop.   He stopped, but just before he turned, Frank entered the room.

“You were a long time, Joseph.   Are you like Mary and had to have several coffees?”   Frank said with a smile.    Did you find them?  The torches that is.”

“Yes.   But I also found something very interesting hanging on the side wall”

Frank looked puzzled at first as he stared in the direction that Joseph was pointing, then he began to shake his head.   “Yes, you did, by George.”   Frank said in agreement.

    ‘At last,’   Joseph thought,   ‘Finally.   He can see the damage.  I wonder why Martin can’t.   Perhaps the creature can control his mind.   Make him see what the creature wants him to see.”

“Yes, of course, the photo of the farm.”   Frank continued, much to Joseph’s disappointment,  “Old Laurie left it there in case any of the villagers wanted to see the light again.   it’s not really a good photo though, not according to Old Laurie.”

“Yes, you are right there.”   Joseph agreed wryly,  bitterly disappointed to find that Frank apparently could not see the damage that he still could, “It’s a very bad photo.  In every way possible.”

Frank looked at Joseph with confusion.   “What do you mean, Joseph?”

“I mean that it can come alive when it wishes to.”

Frank’s face went ashen.   His eyes dropped to the ground,

“Yes, it does do that now and again.”  He said in an extremely slow, soft voice.   “It certainly does.”

********

Go to Episode 43

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SHORT FAT STUBBY FINGER STORIES PRESENTS:

Episode 41

Mary momentarily found her mind being called on for exclusive attention from two completely different sources.   The disappointment that resulted from Joseph’s sudden departure from the room before she got the chance to speak privately with him was certainly a major candidate for supremacy in her thoughts, but the words that Peter James spoke were now demanding an equal, if not greater, priority when he mentioned the creature that had attacked her.   And in Joseph’s physical absence, Peter James won the right for sole attention within her mind … at least for the moment.

“The Punjaniti.”  Mary repeated in her mind as she remembered the story that Laurie had told her, and just a moment ago Peter had described the scar on the face of the thing that he had seen coming out of the fireplace was the same as that of the thing that had attacked her in the garage.  For a moment Mary’s mind returned to the garage, to the strange smoke that had begun to emit from the photograph, but before the horror of the day’s events could fully return themselves to her mind Laurie’s voice grabbed her attention.

“All of this time I have considered what happened at the farm to be the work of amateur witches trying to conjure up, God knows what.  But now … now I don’t know what to think.”  Laurie stated aloud, looking as perplexed and confused as any of those that sat there at the table.

“Until tonight,” Peter added to Laurie’s revelation, his words taking the final glimmer of the garage from Mary’s mind.   “I had not given what I had been told about the incident much thought.   Like you, Laurie, I had assumed that local witches had something to do with it – now I am not quite so certain.  Mary, why are you here?  In the village, I mean, not here with us at the table.   I am just curious about something and I need your help.”

Feeling slightly embarrassed by the question, Mary couldn’t help but release some of the pressure that had been building up in her since the break of day and decided to give them a modified version of the truth.   Something within was telling her she was getting deeper and deeper into something she truly did not understand.  There had been times when her mind had been uncertain what had been real – and what may have been imaginary.   ‘Perhaps it had all been some kind of induced hypnotism by an unseen hypnotist’ she wondered?   ‘Maybe Gizmo had been planting thoughts and imaginary scenes into her mind as she had been driving down to the village.   Perhaps I should ask her a few question … or maybe I should just ring Mister Secretive, also known as Johann P Biggs, and ask him just what his game is, but no.’   She decided.  ‘What if he has no idea what I am talking about.   He would think that I was some kind of fruit cake.   He would probably be reexamining my future with the company … not Joseph’s.’   Mary was in a quandary.   She was in out of her depth and had no one to turn to … not even Johann P Biggs who had got her involved in this mystery, under false pretences as far as she was concerned.    She was more than certain now that this was turning out to be more than just something to do with Joseph’s forthcoming promotion, but it may very well have something to do with him as an individual.   At this very moment in time, with this particular group of people, Mary felt that perhaps sharing the truth, or at least part of it, may be of help to her own understanding of what was happening to her.   But she knew she would have to be careful just what she said.   ‘Secrets, after all, she felt, were hard to hide when revealing the truth.   And the total, truthful, reason for her being in the village would have to remain a secret.

Slowly, methodically, carefully she tried her best to explain to the small group that her curiosity had been aroused due to the strange actions of a man back in London.   She explained how she had unspoken feelings for him and she had been playing detective to try and find out more about his interests so that perhaps she could find a common way to engage him in an extended conversation.   Perhaps encourage him to get to know her a little better.   But quite by chance she had overheard a conversation that Joseph had been having with a man and a woman that she now knows as Martin and Rosetta,  where Martin was explaining to Joseph that they would all need to go to Trenthamville the following day.    “I could not comprehend the reason for their coming here,”   Mary explained, “but Martin seemed so adamant that they  had to go to a farm in the village it peaked my curiosity and I worked out a way that I could  follow them.   And here I am.

“And have you found out why Joseph is here?”  Peter asked offhandedly, his voice asking, not demanding.

“Not exactly.” she replied,   ‘It is something to do with the farm, and the professor who was renting it.   I think that they were collecting his personal effects to make sure that they were safe while he is on hospital seeing as how his brother is missing and there is no one at the farm.   I went out there today pretending that I was interested in buying the farm so I could check out what they were doing.   It gave me a cover if they became suspicious of my real reasons for being there, but some mad geezer put a stop to my plans.”

Mary then went on to explain about the frightening red-eyed mad-man that had come flying out of the barn, how she had run into the house to escape him, and that she was going back tomorrow with Joseph and his friends … possibly.   By now Mary was having very mixed thoughts about everything she was telling them … wondering if she had already said too much.    “And I would appreciate your never mentioning this conversation to Joseph or his friends should you be talking to any of them.” she added.  ‘I have only told you what I have because I felt that it was necessary.  But I only did so on my assumption that I could trust you.”

Everybody shook their head in agreement, but Mary found it hard to be completely relaxed.   She felt that she had taken an almighty risk giving so much information to complete strangers.   She still worried that Joseph would discover her real reason for being in the village and misread her intentions.   She had never meant to cause him any problems, or fall out of favour with him.   She had just hoped to convince Johann P Biggs that Joseph was capable of taking on the responsibility that would be required for the promotion … and to get to know him a little better.   A lot better if the truth be known.

“They found a ring.” Laurie suddenly piped in without warning.

“Who did?”   Peter asked in surprise to Laurie’s unexpected offering.

“This Joseph, and his friends.”

“You saw this ring?”

“Yes, earlier this afternoon.   They were sitting at the table two over when the girl dropped it on the floor and it rolled over towards my foot.   The girl came over to retrieve it and then the others came over to the table and we had a bit of a chat about the farm, and Joseph mentioned the girl had found it somewhere in the house completely by accident.   The girl said it had been hidden away, but she didn’t say where.   She thought her father had hidden it to prevent it getting stolen should anybody break into the farmhouse.”

“Can you describe the ring?

“Yes.”

********

“Oh, my dear god!”  Peter exclaimed when Laurie finished his description.  “I think that I am beginning to understand, but it almost seems impossible to believe.   Does anybody know what type of professor he was?”

“I think the girl said he was an archaeologist.”   Laurie replied.

“Then he must have discovered the missing statue of the Punjaniti and brought it here to the village.   It has to be somewhere here in Trenthamville, or the Punjaniti thinks that it is here.   Perhaps that did have something to do with the other night.   Though what the witches were doing there is beyond my thinking … if they were there.   Perhaps the creature was trying to find the statue.   I don’t know anything about how the Punjaniti moves through the universe, but I do know from what my wife told me was that it can be summoned to Earth if you know how to do it, and it can make contact with humans off its own accord should it wish to.   And it can somehow effect the elements.    Whip up a sand storm.   Create a violent storm.   That sort of thing, but it is limited in its physical appearance on Earth.   It needs something to happen to give it the ability to move freely on our planet … and it has something to do with the statue.   But what it is … I have no idea.   And I have no idea what would happen should it gain that freedom.    It seems at the moment all we have gained tonight is more questions.

“What do you mean?” Mary asked, as Peter’s words flew over her head,   “I am sorry, Peter, but I don’t fully comprehend.   Are you telling  me that I really was attacked by a creature from another world.   That the only thing that saved me was the fact that it needed something or someone else to finish me off?   That its mental strength was all that it had used to hurt me and frighten me?   That it wasn’t partly just in my head … in my imagination?   And for that matter – why did it attack me?  I am nobody of danger to it.    I had no idea that it even existed before you and Laurie mentioned it tonight … and I certainly don’t have any secret super powers that I could use against it.”

“Firstly, in respect of why it attacked you, I have absolutely no idea.    I could not even attempt to conjure up a reason.   As to the rest of your questions, I can’t explain what I am saying much clearer because most what I do know is based on my own experience and a bit of logic, and the rest is from what my wife told me about the Punjani.    However, I will try to answer one question with a bit more clarity.    Yes, you were attacked by a creature from another world, but I feel certain that you were safe from the creature physically.   I am absolutely convinced that he couldn’t do half of what you said that he did to you with his bare hands.   However you weren’t free from the attacks on your mind that could easily have put you in danger.   I still believe that you scratched your head on the nail that held the photograph to the wall, but I also believe that the creature used the power of his mind to put you in a frame of mind that made you believe it was a knife … and that it was attacking you.   I believe it has the power to make you see and believe what it wants you to, and its prime objective is to frighten you enough to twist your thoughts and reasoning in such a way you become a danger to yourself.

What I do know for certain in my case is that the creature was somehow summoned up by the Punjani and it had given me mental directions that guided me to eventually receive my doctorate.    I saw the Punjaniti with my own eyes … I saw the scar it bore and a face that sent chills through every bone in my body: a face I will never forget until my dying day … and perhaps even long after that depending what really happens to my soul.   And I do know that it was the reason for the death of my wife and her parents.    But it didn’t directly kill them, they were murdered by their own on behalf of the creature to prevent anybody know about its existence.   This is what I believe happened to you.   The creature obviously has the power to communicate with the inhabitants of this planet when it wants to.   Why the creature wanted to harm or frighten you is a mystery at this stage, but communicate with you it did, and I am suggesting that the photograph was of no bearing to what happened at the garage.   I am suggesting that the photograph was only used as a focal point.   A theatrical prop if you prefer.   Used to create a visual association with the fear it was trying to induce into your mind, if you wish.    The creature could most likely to talk to you from any innate object: the wall, the ceiling, the end of your nose, whatever it liked.  But it chose the photograph to give some depth to his intentions.    Something tangible to help promote the fear that it was transmitting to your mind.   The photograph displayed a scene of fear and confusion: of strange and unnatural events taking place in the blending of night and light, but all taking place in an otherwise, normal, familiar, country scene location, and it projected an image into your mind of itself emerging out the darkness and bringing the chaos that was taking place within  the photo with it … and into the room with you.   And that was the pattern that was set for the remainder of its visit to your mind while you were in the garage until Frank walked into the room.   Making you believe that events that could do you harm were continuously taking place around you, when in fact they weren’t.  But in trying to fight the imaginary predicament you imagined that you were in it would have been easy to succumb to your fears and lose your sanity … or worse.

Your mind has been led on a mighty frightening trail, Mary, and there is no doubt that one false move in the state of mind you were being retained in you could have easily been killed at your own hands, but the creature itself could never have manually harmed you.   If the creature can kill on Earth at this stage I would be very surprised.   As far as I am concerned, for the moment at least, the creature is trapped in the photograph.    Mind you, if I was to be proved wrong I would be more than frightened, I would be terrified … and if the statue is imperative to his arrival on Earth, and its here to be found in the village … then may god help us all.

“What do you mean by, ‘It’s trapped in the photograph?”  Mary asked; the concern in voice more than a little obvious.

“Imagine that you were injured and needed to get inside a particular house and enter a special room for you to be safe from whatever was pursuing you.   But to get to the safe room you needed to pass through another room that stood between the one that you first entered and where you wanted to be … and you collapsed in the middle room and your movements became incredibly restricted .   You would be very inconvenienced and very frustrated, but not altogether hapless.    There is always the possibility that you may find a way to get in the room eventually.   Perhaps you could drag yourself across the floor.   Or maybe there might be somebody else in the house that can help you.   In the case of the Punjaniti it’s travelling between two worlds, but its stuck somewhere in between.   It can’t get into the third room, but it can look in through the window and make mental contact with those in the third room … and perhaps it could do more should it be possible for it to get some physical help from somebody already in that room.”

“But how would it know that the statue had been discovered?” Frank wanted to know.

“That is something that we will have to find out.   Perhaps he has a physic link to it.   I don’t have all of the answers, Frank, and as we talk my mind is continually coming up with more questions than I can handle.   However, I think that some of our answers exist at the farm.  Mary, please tell me more about this wild man that you saw.”

********

Mary did her best to describe him and when she had finished Peter shook his head in disappointment.  “Well, I am afraid that I have no idea who he could be.   He does sound a bit frightening alright.    Are you still going to the farm tomorrow?”

“Yes.  Most defiantly, now!   Wouldn’t miss it for the world,”   Mary exclaimed.  The adrenaline had returned and was running at fever pitch through her veins.   Mary might have been surprised had she known just how close to Joseph’s current mindset she was now becoming.

“Then you need to be very, very careful.” Peter cautioned.   “Though you will have company, won’t you?”   Would you care to meet for dinner tomorrow evening and let us know how you got on?   Then perhaps we may have a better idea on what we should do next”

Mary quickly agreed and all five of them were soon in the process of discussing their arrangements for the following evening when the hotel manager came up to them and asked Peter if he would mind checking on one of the guests in the hotel who had become ill.

********

Frank was extremely nervous as he watched the Doctor James leave the room.   Frank was intimidated by the doctor and didn’t know what to do about what had just happened.   He knew he should have spoken up at the time, but Doctor James had been in full flight as he expounded his knowledge about the creature.that had attacked Mary, and he dared not interrupt him … not even to tell him that he had been wrong.   Especially not to tell him that he was wrong in something he had said, but he had been wrong.   The situation was eating away at him.   Something had to be done.   Mary’s life may very well be in danger at the farm.  But he was too frightened to speak up.

Finally, embarrassed and uncertain, Frank turned and looked in Mary’s direction … and when their eyes met  Frank’s eyes were emblazoned in guilt and worry as he silently asked her ‘Should I have made the doctor understand that I also saw the creature in the room with you … and I too saw the knife?’

Frank could not summon the courage to open his lips to speak, preferring to simply think them, but suddenly, to Frank’s surprise Mary responded to his unspoken words with a soft, half smiling face, a shrug and the words that made Frank gasp in trepidation.

“I don’t know,”  She said in a quiet voice, “but I think that he may have thought twice about my going to the farm, or at least I hope that he would have.   But I am going, Frank.  I feel that I am meant to, so we will keep it our little secret, shall we.   Thank you for caring, Frank, but don’t worry.  I have a fifty fifty chance of survival … and I will have Joseph to protect me.”

********

Go to Episode 42

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Short Fat Stubby Finger Stories presents:

Episode 40

The light of the torch disappeared immediately.   For six whole seconds the entire room was enshrouded in silence … and the fear of the unknown to the unwelcome visitors.   This time it was the turn of the unwelcome visitor to feel the sweat on their neck and forehead.   Whoever was in the room with Rosetta’s unconscious body dared not make a noise … dared not move an inch.   They had no idea who was knocking on the door.   Nor did they know how many there were in the corridor.

Then the door slowly, cautiously, began to open inwards in the opposite direction to the partly opened bedroom door on the other side of the room causing an eerie glow in one end of the room as the incoming light slowly melded with soft, dull, light from the bed lamps … inch by unnerving inch.   Within half an unbelievably long. frustrating, terrifying second – one third of the room soon began to become flooded in brilliant light – the other two thirds still in total darkness.

Suddenly the silhouette of a solitary figure appeared in the doorway.    Whoever it was, to the unwelcome visitor it was but a dark shadow that entered the room, and once they closed the door behind them they became as much an invisible presence in the room as was the unwelcome visitor.   But the unwelcome visitor had no time for cordial greetings or explaining their presence in the room.   Their reason for being here was justified as far as they were concerned, but perhaps it would not seem that way to whoever it was that had just entered the room … and something had to be done about the situation immediately.

********

“I’m here, Rosetta.   Are you in the bedroom?”    Joseph called out in a loud whisper as he gingerly made his way through the darkness to where he assumed the bedroom to be.   But the dull light was casting its extremely limited illumination to the opposite side of the room from where his feet were travelling, which was why, in the distorted semi-darkness of the room, he never saw Rosetta’s body lying on the floor only inches away from his feet.   And as a result he was not prepared for the fall that followed, otherwise he may well have been able to place his arms in a position that would have saved his head from the collision that eventuated.   The impact of his head as it crashed into the small table sent the vase and its contents hurtling across the room, smashing against the wall, spraying the water across the carpet … and leaving the flowers to survive in a crumpled heap on the floor.   The noise was so loud that nobody in the room would have heard the window as it was opened, nor would they have heard the sound of somebody scampering down to the ground below on the grapple hooked rope ladder attached to the wall beneath the window sill.

********

The noise created by Joseph’s collision with the table, however, did catch the attention of the live-in maid, who, after finishing the last of her duties, was heading to her own room at the end of the hall to retire for the night.

Instinct told her that the raucous sound that had startled her was more than just an overzealous argument between guests, or the result of a drunk tripping over their own feet.  She quickly made her way back to the room and banged on the door.   Getting no response she took the risk of being considered to be an intruder and used her house key to enter the room.  As soon as she turned on the light she assessed the situation, forced herself to not scream, or throw up, and raced downstairs and barged into the office of a startled William Jones and his guest.

********

Go to Episode 41

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Short Fat Stubby Finger Stories PRESENTS:

 

In the dark hours – two strangers meet – there’s safety in numbers

– and danger in the streets

Episode 37

   Mary was disappointed when she saw Joseph leave the room.  She had witnessed Rosetta departing earlier and was hoping that she would have had a chance to talk to him alone, but when she realised that she had missed her chance she shrugged her shoulders and resigned herself to obtaining a better chance to be alone with him tomorrow at the farm.       

   However, regardless of her disappointment, Mary was not in a great rush to leave her new friends who sat with her, sipping on their drinks and enjoying each other’s company.    Although her initial reaction to the group at the table had turned hostile at Peter James arrival, the night’s conversations had whet her appetite for adventure and now she found herself chomping at the bit for more.  Considering what she had seen, what had happened to her over the day, and now the stories she was hearing, Mary could not but believe that she was involved in something that threatened to blow her mind forever.  And now … and now, Peter’s vivid description of the creature left her shaking with both fear and excitement.  

********

Go to Episode 38

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Short Fat Stubby Finger Stories PRESENTS:

The winds turns … it becomes stronger … it becomes more dangerous …

and now it is coming.

Episode 34

While Mary was contemplating what was going on in her life, Rosetta was contemplating, with excited expectations, what was going to happen in her life later that night.  The country air had given everybody at her table a fine appetite, and they all had eaten heartily, but straight after the meal Rosetta announced she was ready to have a long bath before retiring for the night… advising her companions that she would examine the diary in more detail while she was relaxing in the bath and advise them of her findings over breakfast.  The boys both bid her good evening and, as Martin departed to get a drink for Joseph and himself, she reached over to give Joseph a peck on the cheek, and as she did she whispered in his ear that it would be best if he did not arrive before eight thirty.   ‘Enough time for me to ready myself … and the night still to be young’, she had said.

Joseph smiled at her and winked as she left, an action that made her face light up with happiness, and slightly flush with embarrassment at the same time.   To all who may have laid eyes on Joseph at that very moment in time, Joseph would appear to them to be relaxed, sure of himself,  a very self confident man in every sense of the meaning, but on the inside his entire mind and body was shaking in absolute fear of embarrassment and fear.   It had been a long time since he had been in the arms of a woman, and even that had only been momentarily.   Inwardly, Joseph doubted that he had sufficient experience for what Rosetta would expect, for what she deserved … and if that was not enough to put an edge on anything that the night had on offer, the guilt that had accompanied him since he and Rosetta had first met still hovered close to his heart .

   Joseph watched Rosetta as she left the room and sighed.   Though not a loud sigh, it was still loud enough to reach Martin’s ears as he arrived back at the table.

   “What is the matter, old man.   Rosetta giving you a hard time?   Or are you thinking how frustrating this search is turning out to be?”

   “No, just a thought that flashed through my mind.   It’s nothing.   Anyway, there was something about the farm I would like to discuss with you.”

   “Spit it out, old boy.  Have you found a clue that I missed?    Or are the little grey cell beginning to work overtime, to quote Poirot?”

As Joseph and Martin returned their attention to discuss the day’s events they were completely unaware a similar discussion was well and truly underway at Mary’s table.

********

The night had passed quickly for Mary.   Not only had the company been pleasant, but so too the food, the wine … and the exhilarating conversation Laurie had provided.  Laurie had regaled them all with stories of things he had seen and heard of over the years. and the hours had flown before Mary began to realize how extremely tired she was feeling, seriously thinking about calling it a night when Peter James arrived at the table.

“Is the offer of a drink still open?”  He asked.

“Yes.  Please join us.”  Mary replied quickly.

“It has been a busy day at the office,” Peter remarked.   “I will certainly enjoy a drink or two.

“Any thing in particular, Peter?”  Frank Laurie asked out of interest.

“A rash, of all things: nearly half of the village has broken out with it.  It it does not appear to be contagious.   I had over thirty patients, and not one of them had had any physical contact with each other over the past forty eight  hours, and in most cases no other member of the patient’s family had contracted the rash.   But it certainly looks curious enough.   It’s about two inches wide and looks like a red snake with spasmodic black spots dotted along its body.  It travels from the base of the spine in a straight line up the back then splits and spreads sideways, going around the body just under the arm, then travels upwards again till it reaches the bottom of the neck, then  joins up again before spreading up and across the entire length and width of the victim’s neck.    It doesn’t appear to be itchy or dangerous, but certainly looks frightening which is the reason that most patients are worried by it.   All I could do for them all was take blood tests and advise them to drop back the following day if it was still there.   In the meantime I had to prepare a report to accompany the blood tests just in case the results showed something and they wanted more information regarding the volume of patient’s  with the same problem.”

“Do you have any idea what is causing it?”

“Outside of last week’s full moon, or the strange light at Frenchman’s Farm, none whatsoever,” he laughed,   “Mind you, it only started somewhere around midnight according to the victims that were awake when they first noticed it.   The others didn’t realise that they had a the rash until they awoke this morning.   Midnight, isn’t that the witching hour …  a witch’s curse perhaps.”

“Strange, isn’t it … that it should happen just now?” Mary stated caustically.

“Stranger things have happened.”   Doctor James replied in a slightly bewildered tone   “You sound a bit uneasy about something, Miss Cunningham.   What has Laurie here been telling you about me?”

“I have just been telling Mary about your unusual beginnings in medicine.”   Laurie said in a matter-of-fact manner.”

“Now why would you do that, Laurie?  Mary is far too intelligent to believe in hobgoblins and gremlins and great big spooky things.  Aren’t you, Mary?”

His easy smile confused Mary momentarily, but almost immediately afterwards she began to suspect that her original suspicion of a practical joke being contrived between all at that table appeared to be correct.   She had expected the doctor to show disappointment towards Laurie’s disclosure at the very least, if not anger and resentment at his betrayal of obviously what was meant to be a secret between the two men, had Laurie been telling the truth.   But now she very much doubted that to be the case.  Mary was searching for the right words to say in order to assure her hosts that she was not falling for their party tricks when the doctor’s words again threw her off balance.  “Then again, she may have something similar to my experience to share with me.  Is that what it is, Mary, something that you forgot to mention to me earlier today?”

Now Mary became convinced that some sort of conspiracy was taking place and refused to answer.   However, Peter sensed her hesitation and went on with his interrogation.

“I shared something with Laurie because my instinct told me that I could trust him.  If he saw a reason to share that secret with you, then he must have had a very sound reason … and I still trust him.   I know that my story is somewhat unusual, but I don’t understand why you seem quite so upset about it.   So I suspect there is something you are hiding … something connected with what Laurie has told you about my past.   Is that what is upsetting you? ”

“I am not upset.”  Mary blurted out indignantly,   “Well, no, I am upset.   I feel that I am being set up for your amusement.   A bit of country humour, no doubt, and I am not too happy about it.   What happened to me today was not something that I enjoyed, and I have no interest in letting my pains being fodder for your droll, sick sense of humor.  I think I will go up to my room.   I need to get some sleep before I return to London tomorrow.”

Mary began to get up to leave, but Peter’s reflexes automatically swung into action and he managed to gently place his hand on hers and prevent her from doing so.    Mary was shocked by his action and for a moment was in fear of his intentions, but as she saw the shocked and surprised look on his face she relaxed slightly … as he began to apologise.

“I am sorry that you think that way, Mary.   I swear to you, it was never anybody’s intention to make a fool of you.   I have no idea what Laurie has told you, but I would be terribly surprised and disappointed if he had told you anything but the truth.  The fact is I was slightly doubtful about your denial of anything out of the usual happening at garage this morning.   I thought perhaps that was the reason for your being here tonight.”

Mary looked hard at the concerned faces of all that sat at the table.   She thought about Laurie’s explanation of why he had told her what he had, and she made a snap decision, blurting her words out more in relief than intent.   “I saw something in that picture of the farm.  Whatever it was, it tried to kill me.   The cut on my forehead was caused by a knife that it was wielding, and not by the nail that was holding the picture up!”

“Is it possible for you to describe what you saw in detail please, Mary?”

For the second time that evening Mary recounted the morning’s events, fright by fright, and the face of Doctor Peter James went a darker shade of ashen with every word spoken.

There was a deafening silence for several moments while the doctor absorbed this news.  The look of horror on his face was a major concern for all at the table, but none dared ask him the reason for his fear.

Finally, he spoke. “Laurie, did you tell her the whole story that I told you?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t leave anything out?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“You told her about my wife!  Her family! How I got my practice?”

“Yes.”

“Can you people truly understand the severity of this cult, and the god that they worship?”

“I think so,” Mary responded as Malena and Frank nodded their heads in agreement.

“And do you believe that it really exists.  That people still worship a god that sends them out to kill for it in return for wealth and protection?  Do you believe what you have been told is true?”    His voice quavered, and it was frightening in its intensity.

“I don’t think that we have any reason to disbelieve you.  After what I witnessed today, I would believe anything.” Mary offered, although she was uncertain as to why he was getting so upset.

“I know it is a hard thing to believe, but you truly believe that you saw something in that picture?”

“Yes?”

“And it tried to kill you?  You are absolutely certain that it tried to kill you?”

“Yes!  The look on its face was the most frightening thing I have ever seen.”  Mary shuddered at the thought of the thing she had seen earlier that morning, and the enormity of the day’s events began to sink in for the first time.  Tears started to form around the edges of her eyes and onto her cheeks.

Peter saw the tears, immediately toning down the passion in his voice.  “I am sorry if I frightened you with my reaction, but I am afraid that the horror of what you have just told me temporarily made me lose my manners.   It’s just that … ”  His voice trailed off, as if he was hesitant about saying what he had to say.

“What is it?”  Mary asked, an unknown fear now crawling along the nape of her neck as it made its way towards her wildly beating heart.

“That, that creature that you saw …  that creature … that thing that tried to kill you … that was the Punjaniti.”

********

Go to Episode 35

 

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Short Fat Stubby Finger Stories PRESENTS:

Episode 33    Part 2

“My God!”   Mary cried out in surprise.  “That’s what I saw!

   “It would seem so.  Both of you described the image pretty much the same.”  Laurie agreed.

   “So what happened to him?” 

   Mary was once again beside herself with excitement as Peter James’s story unfolded into her wide open ears, while Malena and Frank, who had never heard this story before, were equally intrigued.

   “The next thing he knew was waking up, his body lying prone on a bed, and in a different room.  As his vision slowly cleared, and the room began to come more and more into focus, he was equally pleased, and surprised, by the sight of the pretty young woman who was gently pressing a moist towel against his forehead.  Her eyes lit up into a beautiful, excited smile when they met with his and for a moment their eyes locked – not a word was spoken, but inside his head Peter knew something connected them. 

   Then he became distracted as a noise emerged from somewhere in the room and he searched with his eyes for its source.  Eventually, in the strangeness of the room, he could make out the shape of his host standing on the other side of the room.    

   Ishmati appeared to be in earnest conversation with an older man who Peter didn’t recognise.   As soon as the men realized that Peter was awake they rushed to his side. 

   Dismissing the young girl for the moment, his host asked him how he felt, but before a reply could be given, Ishmati introduced the other man as Doctor Tanshuni.    Peter tried to reach out to shake Doctor Tanshuni’s hand, but found the effort to be too much for him to handle.

   ‘Just you rest.’ Doctor Tanshuni instructed as he pulled out a vial from a bag sitting at the base of the bed and poured the contents, a dark green liquid, into a glass to which he added some water from a jar that the young woman handed to him.   ‘Drink this, young man. We will soon have you better.’

   Peter was dubious about drinking the foul looking liquid, but he had no idea what had happened to him, and as his memory of the last image that he had seen had not yet returned to him, he took the medicine without further reservation. 

   The impact was immediate.  Within less than a minute Peter could feel the natural flow of energy running through his body, and he found himself wanting to sit up – and not only was he able to sit up, but he also found himself capable of standing upright on his own two feet.   The lethargic feeling that had encumbered him only minutes earlier was now a thing of the past.  He could not remember when he had ever felt this good within, and about, himself.  His senses were sharper and clearer, and he felt himself to be far more relaxed than he had ever known himself to be.   Peter felt like a new man   Strangely though, he had forgotten the reason for his visit, however his host suggested that perhaps it had been to visit his daughter, Sharina, and when Peter again looked into the young girl’s, beautiful, dark brown eyes, he was smitten beyond reason. 

   He agreed that must have been the reason, and so strong were his feelings for her by that stage that he never even questioned what had happened to him for him to be lying on that bed.   Instead, he found himself walking out of the house and into the garden, arm in arm with this young woman who ended up his wife several years later.

********

“That was a different way of meeting your true love,” Mary smiled.  “I wish that was how my day was going to end.   But that is most likely not going to happen … so don’t get any ideas, Frank.”

   “Don’t worry, I wont.,” Frank replied, a large smile on his face.

   “Ah, but that is not the end of the story,” Laurie exclaimed,   “Do you remember how I said that he was not a studious person?”

   “Yes.”

   “Well, for some reason, ever since he had that strange fainting spell, he found himself able to study with ease.  He flew through his exams and graduated with honours, even becoming dux of his course.   He never questioned this change in himself.   Nor did he question the reason for his sudden interest in Sharina on the day that he first met her.  And nor did he question how easily he accepted the offer to become Doctor Tanshuni’s partner in his surgery once he had received his license to practice instead of taking one of the lucrative offers than had came from both public and private hospital practices in London and surrounding areas.   Indeed, his fellow students, and those that had chased after his services, were very surprised that he settled for a reasonably attractive offer from a private practice when he could have accepted a much greater income and so much prestige.   To them it was a waste of great talent.   But, of course,  what nobody else knew was that this particular practice included his in-laws and their friends as permanent patients.   To Peter’s way of thinking, it all seemed so natural that he felt things had always been meant to be this way. 

   That is, until the day his in-laws suddenly died!   Their deaths, exactly one year after his marriage, were under mysterious circumstances, but strange as the circumstances may have seemed to Peter … no questions were asked by any of their friends.  Their deaths were accepted by them all as if it was a completely accidental event, a sad occasion perhaps, but an accident never-the-less.   It concerned Peter somewhat, for he had questions that he needed to ask to settle his own mind, but he had no one to ask that he felt would provide the answers truthfully, so he kept his thoughts to himself.   He never discussed his thoughts and concerns with his wife, preferring instead to do his best to console her in her distress, and she seemed to be coping well enough under the circumstances.

   But it was in the evening of the day of the funeral, after they had retired to bed, that Peter’s troubles began.   As it happens sometimes during times of stress, Peter had began to feel unsolicited feelings surging through his body as they lay on the bed, their bodies closely entwined in an expression of solitude at her grief.   Sensing Peter’s unplanned intentions she denied him and Peter immediately apologised for his lack of thought … telling her the feeling had arrived unexpectedly and he wasn’t thinking straight.   Sharina rolled over and gave him a weak smile, placing her arms around him and giving him a kiss on the forehead before placing her head on his chest as she settled herself down for sleep, and they remained in that position until they awoke the following morning.

********

   As the light that came with the new day drifted slowly into the room it soon began to shine its increasing strength onto their closed eyes until, within a second of each other, they both woke up.    Sharina gave Peter a loving smile as they untangled themselves and nothing was mentioned in relation to the previous night.   To Peter’s way of thinking Sharina had appeared to be back to herself.   She had seemed happy enough when she gave him a quick cuddle and a kiss on the lips before jumping out of bed and heading towards the kitchen to make breakfast while he got dressed for work, and he felt there was nothing to gain by apologising again and pushed the memory of his inconsiderate actions out of his mind.

********

   Sharina had appeared in good humour as she waved goodbye to him as he left for the surgery, and later, when Peter arrived back home in the evening, Sharina still seemed to be her normal self, but perhaps just a little distracted.   When he asked how her day had been she answered, but there was not much vigour in her words as she spoke.   Normally she was very chatty about the events of her day and he normally did not have to prise anything out of her, it was usually a job and a half for him to remember everything she told him.   But today the details were vague and half-hearted in the telling.   Peter realised she had been home alone all day and it was probably grief controlling her mind and thoughts.  He tried giving her several loving and supportive hugs throughout the evening, and even though she didn’t push him away or attempt to get out of the embrace she still felt very rigid in his arms.

   And when they retired for the night, for the first time in their marriage, Sharina slept with her back to Peter.   Peter tried to snuggle into her, but without saying a word Sharina removed his arms and moved closer to the edge of the bed.   Peter sensed discussion at this stage would lead to arguments and decided it to be wiser to simply lay the same way.   He rolled over and tried valiantly to get to sleep, but dreams and nightmares were conspicuous in their absence for the next few hours.   Instead they were replaced by hundreds of questions, all of which remained unanswered by the time Peter finally fell asleep, ninety five minutes before the alarm thundered into his sleep deprived mind.

********

   On the morning of the third day following the funeral of Sharina’s parents once again nothing about the previous night was mentioned, and for the next few days things seemed reasonably normal, though Sharina had very little to offer in the way of conversation and went to bed unreasonably early each night.   An attempt, in Peter’s mind, to prevent any attempt by him to try to communicate with her.   Peter was at a loss as to what he could do to help her get over her grief.   He considered suggesting to her to get professional help, but he didn’t know how to approach the subject without his concerns for her welfare upsetting her even more.

********

   By the fifth day Sharina had moved into the spare room and refused to give any reason, but told Peter if he objected to these sleeping arrangements she would move out.

   It was driving him crazy … and still she would not talk to him about it.

   Peter had no one else to turn to but his own parents, and they had wanted very little to do with him since his marriage.  As far as they were concerned his life was with his wife now, and he had to be there for her as she learnt to cope with her loss.   He never clearly understood why they had changed.   All he knew was that they had acted differently towards him since the day he had gone to Ishmati’s house as they had requested.

   Finally, after a month of his wife’s strange attitude, he decided that he had had enough and had several strong drinks on the way home, which, of course, was not a regular habit for him.   However it had been a particularly stressful day at his practice with his partner becoming too ill to come in to work which meant he had had to double up on patients.   He had been overworked, and he had thought most of his patients to be nothing but attention seekers and time wasters with their scratches and their self induced neuroses, and it had put him in no mood to face the belligerency that Sharina would be offering upon his arrival at home.   By nature Peter was not a drinking man, as I said earlier, and the alcohol hit home fast.  He confronted Sharina the minute that he walked through the door with a need for an answer as to what her problem was!

   Sharina simply looked at him with blankness in her eyes and went about preparing the meal as if he was not even in the room.   However, Peter refused to give in easily and he tried once more in his attempts to encourage her to talk, but instead of replying to his question, she simply turned to face him, gave him a contemptuous look, and then turned her back on him.   But Peter was not going to let her evade the problem on this day.   He was half drunk, he was angry, he was miserable, and he was hurting badly because he felt that he was losing  her … and he had no idea why.   They were going to sort things our right there and then, he decided … regardless of the consequences.  

   He reached out and placed one hand on her departing shoulder and forced her to turn around and face him, but as she turned Sharina glared absolute hatred from her eyes … and then spat on his face.   Peter felt shocked, humiliated and pained all in the one emotion and the pressure that he felt under, combined with the liqueur that he had consumed, exploded – and for the first time in their marriage … he reacted with a slap.   He had not delivered the full potential of his strength with the slap, but the shock of his reaction was enough for her to open up and spit out the venom that she had been storing up for weeks.   Most of it he couldn’t understand at first, because she screamed in her native tongue, then when she reverted to English, he couldn’t comprehend what she was talking about.   Nothing that Sharina was saying was making any sense to him.   Her body was shaking with rage, her eyes were wild; her tongue had a life of its own.  She spoke so much gibberish at such a volume and speed that Peter doubted that even she understood what she was saying.

   This time he couldn’t bring himself to hitting her again, but he knew that she was putting herself in danger of self-harm the way she flung her body and arms around.   Peter had once seen the madness of an addict who had overdosed on ice during his time at a hospital as a student, and Sharina was making his maniacal  madness seem like a young child throwing a tantrum.   Peter was in of fear for her sanity; her ranting and raving, her words, her body language was not that of one in charge of their own mind, and he was worried she was in the beginnings of a mental breakdown.   

   Somehow, in one quick motion, Peter grabbed hold of  both of her flaying arms by the wrist, wrapped her hands into a ball within his hands, pulled both arms up towards the ceiling, then quickly pulled them both down at and placed them behind her back where he squeezed them tightly together so she could not move.   Sharina’s instant reaction was to attempt to kick peter, but he had anticipated that and he lifted one leg to prevent any impact from occurring.   As her leg came forward, she wasn’t  expecting defence against her attack, and as result her leg took the full impact of the collision of his knee cap against the top of her leg.   The poor woman screamed in agony and fright at the unexpected impact.   She stared at Peter, the hatred and anger that were predominant in her eyes, now replaced by confusion and panic.

    But Peter never gave her a chance to recover.   Instead he looked deep into her eyes and spoke.   And when he spoke his voice was soft but firm.   It displayed no malice, it was not demanding   It was not loud, but it was not subdued.   “Stop fighting me, Sharina,” he said, “It’s not time for anger … it’s time to talk.   What we both need to do at the moment is concentrate on the love we have for each other, not the hatred that you have for me for something that hurts and  pains you, but is unknown to me.   I have no idea whatsoever why you have turned on me … and it is extremely important that you help me understand.”

   Sharina stared at him so vaguely that Peter thought she couldn’t comprehend what he was saying, however, she suddenly broke down into a sobbing mess and Peter pulled her forward and bought her close into his chest, released his grip on her hands, then lifted her unresisting body and carried Sharina into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed where he joined her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close into his body.   For the first time in weeks Peter felt his wife was taking comfort from his presence.

   Sharina’s tears fell constantly for what seemed ages, the pillow quickly saturated, the sheets soon joining their bed-mate, and the mattress appeared to be equally threatened along with Peter’s shirt and jacket. 

   But Peter never once relinquished the hold that offered her the safety and comfort she required, his voice remained soft and soothing.   And when at last Sharina stopped her weeping, her trembling ceased, and her breathing became slower, she cuddled into Peter and this time he could feel the warmth; the genuine love that lay within her heart for him.   They lay there for a long time just hugging, while he gently stroked her hair.  

   Hours elapsed, as they remained locked in this position, until finally she spoke … and the words she spoke, frightened him, amazed him and marked the beginning of a journey he would eventually make …  a journey that eventually ended here, at Trenthamville.  

   Sharina told him things that were supposed to a secret.   She warned him that they both could get killed if the wrong ears heard what she was telling him.

   Peter listened in absolute astonishment as his wife told him how her parents were members of a secret cult named the Sect of Thirteen and referred to themselves as Punjani, a clan initially formed in their homeland many years ago by their forefathers to worship and do the bidding of a god that had spoken to them in their dreams: offered them a fortune in reward for their services, and promised to protect them whilst they carried out his orders.   The men had done what was requested and the rewards were arriving on a regular basis.   Then something happened without warning.   One of their own betrayed them, a massacre occurred, but the surviving members had been able to retrieve their fortune whilst their hideaway was still under attack and escape.   They used their wealth to blend in with a higher class society in a town many miles from their ravaged hideaway and were safe from further prosecution for many years.   However they were eventually forced to move here, to this country, as many of their fellow countrymen did, when things became too dangerous for them to remain in a country undergoing radical political and social changes.  The descendants of the original sect are still as rich as the day their forefathers escaped the carnage, they are still under the protection of their god. and there is no reason to think that they wont go on forever … or at least until the Punjaniti has no further use for them.   That is their one and only fear in life.

   She went on to say that her parents were direct descendants of the original members of the Punjani, as were many of the others in the Sect of Thirteen, the name taken in reference to the thirteen survivors of the betrayal.   A rule had been invoked into their charter that no outsider would ever be allowed into the sect without the acceptance of all members, nor were any of the members allowed to talk about the sect to outsiders.  

   Consequently, very few of the sect ever made friends with outsiders that came into daily contact with them.   The God that they worshipped, Rangor, the Punjaniti, still provided them with ongoing protection for their wealth, and in repayment they continued to worship him and do his bidding when it was required of them.   And they were still searching for something of his that had been stolen many years ago.

   There were currently around one hundred members now living in various parts of England, she told him, and that included every house in the street that she and her parents had lived in.   Ironically the same membership number as there had been when the Punjani had been first formed.   But now the sect was represented by the living descendants of the thirteen members that had survived the massacre, and their spouses … and they each kept a very close watch out for any member that was likely to stray … any member … new or original.   They were determined history would not repeat itself.

   However there was a problem that the original members had had to face.   Their children would eventually need to take spouses in order to prevent the Punjani from dying out, and that meant that a security plan needed to be introduced.  The children were taught from birth to keep the secret of the Punjani … to never reveal its existence, or their involvement with it to anybody.   Then once they found somebody that they believed they would be happy to live together with as man and wife forever, and the feelings appeared to be reciprocal, arrangements would be made to ensure that it would remain a secret after the marriage.   The potential spouse and their parents would be made welcome to the home of the future in-laws before the marriage, gratis payments would be made when custom decreed that it should, the wedding setting and the reception details would be planned between both parents, but only the Punjani knew the details of other necessities that would be required to quell their concerns.

   Peter, what I am about to tell you must remain a secret between the two of us forever – because it includes you, and should a tongue slip cause suspicion with the other members … well I would rather not say what would happen.    Will you promise me?

  Peter made the promise she requested and Sharinna continued with her tale. 

   Before the wedding, a spell was placed on all of the outsiders that were connected with the wedding which forced their collective minds to not discuss the upcoming nuptials with anybody outside of those already involved in the proceedings.

   Once the wedding was completed, the parents and guest,s other than the Punjani members who were present, would be given a potion which, along with words spoken to them by a member of the Punjani, would convince them forever that there would never be a need to make communication with their child or friend again – never.   The bride, or bridegroom, as the case may be, would also have the similar sentiments fed into their minds before they were introduced to the sect of thirteen and the history of the Punjani.   However, in the case of the new spouse, the drug, and the spoken words, conspired to make the recipient of the spell think that their new thought pattern regarding the keeping of the secret of the Punjani, and not communicating with those from their past, was something  that they had always done … and everybody was happy.   

   The new, by-marriage, members of the sect were traditionally from the same country as the original Punjani, but since they had migrated to England it was usually descendants of other migrants from that part of the world that were welcomed into the Punjani families.   However, the connection between Peter and Sharina had been a bit of an exception, and when her father had first met with Peter’s family, a bonding took place almost immediately between the adults that carried on to the acceptance of Peter and Sharina falling in love.

   But to understand his willingness to possibly incur the wrath of his peers, you have to understand the depth of the friendship … and the reason for its existence.   You see, it all stemmed from the way that the two families had met not long before Peter’s first birthday.

   Pregnant, with only days to go before labour would be induced if necessary, Sharina’s mother, Isabella, had gone for a short walk by herself through the streets not far from her home.  Isabella was a woman who loved fitness, and had been determined not to miss any exercise simply because she was going to have a baby – however, she had badly misjudged her own body and collapsed in the street midway through her walk.   Now, just about anything could have happened at that moment, but fate had decreed where she would collapse.   I told you earlier that Peter only lived twelve streets away from Marsden House, and as fate decreed Isabella had collapsed outside Peter’s family home just as the family arrived home from a day’s outing.  

   Peter’s father immediately rang the hospital advising them of the woman’s condition, but the wheels were already in motion.  Fate had made its first move.” Laurie explained, sipping on his drink and signalling to the bar for another round,  “Destiny, call it what you like, but things had been planned for Peter James, long before his birth and this was a huge stepping stone towards his future.  But it won’t be the last.  He doesn’t know it yet, but he will have one more demon to fight … but that is yet to eventuate and I am diverting from my story.  

    Peter’s father was requested to take Isabella to the hospital as no ambulance would be available for some time due to a large transport accident that had absorbed all of their resources.   Later, they would find that the accident was, in fact, a large rail disaster where a derailment had occurred in the tube.  After Peter’s family arrived at the hospital, and Isabella had been admitted, Peter’s father made certain that the hospital staff, although they were totally harassed and understaffed as a result of the train derailment, promised to advise Isabella’s husband of her whereabouts.  He had realised that the husband would have had no way of knowing of her admittance, and would have been greatly worried by her disappearance.

    The very next day one hundred roses arrived at the James’ household, along with a thank-you card from a grateful husband.  Two weeks later the James family received visitors.  It was Isabella, her husband Ishmati, and their newborn daughter, Sharina, who would eventually become Peter’s wife.   Ishmati could not find the words to adequately express his gratitude to Peter’s father for saving his wife and daughter’s lives as he wished to, but Peter’s father got the message.   From that moment on, the four of them became great friends and the friendship continued over the years that followed, but for some strange reason they never socialised around the children.  If they were ever to dine out together they would do so at a restaurant or a hotel … and the children were always babysat in their own homes.

   Outside of that initial meeting, when Peter himself was not quite a year old, he and his future wife never met again until that day Peter had gone around to visit Sharina’s parents.  It is anybody’s guess why that happened, but it is Peter’s guess it was to avoid he and Sharina becoming friends … and his wanting to visit her at her home.   As I said earlier, the sect did not like mixing with outsiders and Ishmati may have felt Peter’s appearances at his home may have caused dismay and distrust within the sect.

   However, there was nothing Ishmati would not have done for Peter’s family to repay them, and when they mentioned their unhappiness about their son’s educational achievements he set about rectifying that situation on their behalf without mentioning how he would achieve that result.  

   The day that Peter had gone around to Sharina’s house, he had been drugged – then the Punjaniti had been summoned and requested to help the young man on the premise that the Punjani’s private doctor was getting old and would soon need replacing.   This young man, once he became a doctor, could treat the members of the circle and be trusted.  Her father suggested that he need not become a follower, but he could be tied to the sect by virtue of marriage.   The Punjaniti agreed and performed the magic that was necessary. 

   At the time the promise was false, as Sharina’s father had no idea how the marriage could be arranged, but fate, and cupid’s work, was already in the planning stage, and when the two locked eyes after the Punjaniti’s work had been done – true love was ready to pounce; serendipity, if you like, but the love that they felt instantly for each other was real.

   However, the power that had changed Peter’s ability to learn somehow caused a division between him and his parents.  Although he never noticed a change in himself, they did.  The possibility exists that the spell, cast on him by the Punjani or the Punjaniti, resulted in his over zealous attitude towards study at the cost of his attitude towards his family.   This, combined with his newfound interest in his future wife, constantly isolated him from family affairs.   By the time he had finished his last medical exam and qualified as a doctor, he was barely communicating with his parents.

   The family were proud of their son’s achievements, but secretly wished that they could have their old son back.  They kept their thoughts to themselves, but just prior to the first wedding anniversary they finally confided their sorrow to their friends, saying that though they appreciated what had been done for their son, they were feeling rather regretful these days.   In retrospect they would rather have seen him a failure, than have lost him as a son.  In truth, it is extremely doubtful that they had any real inclination as to their friend’s involvement in their son’s success.   They had assumed he had either spoken to their son that day and shown him encouragement, or it had been due to the influence of meeting his future bride, but the thought of a supernatural being giving him the power to complete his education and become a doctor had never once entered their mind.

   Ishmati was surprised that the drugs they had been given had not totally obliterated their thoughts and memories of their son and assumed it was a rare case of family bonding being stronger than the potion that had been fed to them.   He had heard it was possible, however he had never seen it in action before and was impressed by the strength that love could provide.  

   But Ishmati also took exception to their complaints – to their lack of gratitude for what he had done for them – for the danger that he had put himself and his family in for their happiness.   Friends are friends and they can have an undying affection for each other, but two minds do not necessarily think the same way all the time, and this was the situation here.   Ishnmati felt that he had taken an awful risk in using the Punjaniti in the first instance, and he felt more frustrated that he couldn’t explain this to these ungrateful people.   The comments that they were now making were not of ingratitude, simply expressions of sorrow at how estranged their relationship with their son had become,  but this was  not the way that Ishmati interpreted their words, and it quickly took its toll on his own inner fears and worries.   In truth, Ishmati had always felt slightly regretful of his decision to use the Punjaniti for personal gain; he had always feared retribution should the other members find out what he had done.   And his incorrect assumption of what Peter’s parents were saying; this obvious lack of gratitude of the risk that he had undertaken caused suppressed fear to rise within him … and it quickly turned to anger.

   Tempers became heated and words were spoken that normally would have been withheld.   Ishmati cursed them in the name of the Punjaniti, and suggested that he would invoke the Punjaniti, and have him reverse the spell that had been placed on Peter.    When the parents asked him to explain what he meant, he replied,   ‘You fools – How do you think he achieved the results that he did?  The great God, Rangor the Punjaniti, was called and he gave your son the necessary ability to study and achieve greatness.  I went to great trouble to request this because you wanted it.   If the rest of the Punjani knew what I was doing they would have tried to stop me – with my life if necessary.   I took great personal risks to achieve what you wanted, and now you decide that you have made too much of a sacrifice with your request.  Well I consider that to be an insult that I cannot tolerate!’   With that he stormed out of the house, his wife in tow.   He was later to regret his outburst, but by then it was far too late.

   Peter’s parents did not know what to make of Ishmati’s ravings.  They had been feeling sorrow within themselves, anguish caused by the changes within their child, but they had never meant to have hurt and lost their friend as well, and what made it harder was that they really didn’t quite comprehend what their friend had been talking about … and they weren’t certain that they wanted to know.

   Meanwhile, when Ishmati had arrived home he was still in a state of anger.  As soon as he entered the house he continued with his barrage of cursing his old friends, and still threatening to revoke the charm that had been placed on the doctor.  His wife tried her best to calm him down, but it was to no avail.   He continued to rant and rave, and generally repeated the afternoon’s events aloud.

   Had he been less stressed out, and more aware of his surroundings, then he would have noticed that his daughter had dropped in and was entertaining two of a neighbour’s children who had happened to drop by with a message from their parents for hers.  The visitors could not have helped but overhear his conversation – two days later Sharina’s parents were dead. 

   According to the police report, some hot embers from an unguarded fireplace had spat onto the floor and set fire to the carpet while they were asleep.   Inexplicably, the alarms had failed to go off, and while the house itself failed to catch fire, the smoke that emitted from the carpet gave them no chance of surviving.   Later, the post mortem revealed that they had died from smoke inhalation, but it also revealed drugs in their system suggesting that it may have been a double suicide, or an accident because they were more than likely to have been unconscious when the fire broke out.  They eventually settled for accidental death to make things easier for Sharina to accept in her mind.   As far as they were concerned the couple had never shown suicidal tendencies, and there was no reason to raise the possibility of their being so inclined on the official case file.”

********

   “How horrible,” Mary found herself interrupting, “but surely it was only as a result of an accident?”

   “According to Sharina, it had been a warm night, and there had been no need of a fire in the first place.   She had been told about the forensic and physical  evidence of drugs possibly being involved by the daughter of one of her parent’s neighbours, but immediately rejected and dismissed it from her mind without any further thought.   She assumed that it had been murder from the start, but there was no way that she could ever prove it, and the police wouldn’t be too interested because there was no proof that she could offer, and of course she couldn’t mention the Punjani or the Punjaniti.   This had been Peter’s train of thought also, though he was unaware of the inclusion of drugs into the equation, but he had never discussed his thoughts and questions with Sharina, fearing it may upset her to think that a family friend may have killed her parents.

   As Sharina continued with her explanation for her behaviour over the past few weeks Peter couldn’t help but wonder how things would have turned out had he mentioned his thoughts to her at the time and began to feel guilt creeping over him … even though he knew it to be unjustified.   He had done nothing wrong intentionally, but he also felt that he should have been more resilient in his attempts to communicate with her, to assure himself of the soundness of her mind in a time of grief.

********

   “But why did she blame her husband in the first place?”   Mary asked,    “I don’t understand?”

   “It had been her mother who eventually told her that her father had done something to help Peter on the day that she had first met him, nothing to do with their relationship, she assured Sharina, but something to do with his studies and said no more.   But Sharina had been in the house when her father let fly with his tirade against Peter’s parents and she soon put two and two together and assumed it to be the Punjani that had killed her parents after her father had sought help from the Punjaniti.   So, in her mind, she reasoned that if Peter had simply learnt to study in the first place, then none of this would have happened.  If he had studied under his own steam then his parents would not have complained to her parents, and so on. 

   But then she had begun to reason that if that had been the case then she may not have ever met Peter, and she loved him so deeply she could not even bear the thought of not being his wife and in his life.   Eventually she began having conflicts in her mind … which was the worst situation?   Not having her parents?   Not having him?    It was driving her mad.    And, like Peter, she had nobody to turn to.   She now mistrusted the Punjani because she was certain in her mind that they had killed them, and she had no idea how to comminate with Peter because one part of her mind was still throwing the blame on him.”

   “So she was saying that this sect – the Punjani or whatever you called them – killed them for disclosing their existence to outsiders?”

   “Which he never actually did, but yes, that, and the fact he had called up the Punjaniti for personal use.  Her father was the only one outside of the current priest that knew how to summon the Punjaniti.   He was the back up in case anything happened to the priest.”

   “Why didn’t they kill Peter’s parents as well if they thought that they knew all about the Punjani and what Ishmati had done for them?  And, for that matter, why didn’t they kill Peter?”

   “There are several reasons possible, but nobody knows the real truth.   The Punjaniti would not protect them from a murder investigation if they weren’t following a direct order from him to kill.   And Peter expects that includes the deaths of Ishmati and Isabella, which is why they were injected with drugs before the fire was lit, to make it seem like suicide or a terrible accident.  Should he suddenly die, the police might re-investigate the ‘accidental’ deaths of his in-laws’

    Peter also thought that with the other doctor still very sick the Punjani still had a use for him.  

   And he believed that they believed that he was totally unaware of the sect’s existence.   He had been given the potion, but he had not attended the introduction to the Punjani and their history with the Punjaniti because Ishmati had suggested that there would be no need for him to be aware of the existence of the Punjaniti as he would not be involved in doing his bidding.   He was only being inducted into the fold because his daughter had fallen in love with him and the sect needed a doctor with a clear head.   Becoming involved in the Punjani’s affairs could easily distract him from doing his job without being distracted from what they required from him, keeping them all healthy.   The other members were dubious about this situation, but had accepted Ishmati’s suggestion.

   But the biggest factor was probably the fact that should his parents, his own, or Sharina’s death happen at the same time as his in-laws, the police could easily grow suspicious … and several family deaths, no matter how they eventuated, would make the police look a lot deeper into their affairs.”

   “What happened after she told him?”

********

   “Peter was shocked to say the least.  He asked her to tell him more about the sect, but she refused, saying that the less that he knew the better off they both would be, and she had already told him too much .   Then she apologized for her behaviour over the last few weeks, begging him for his forgiveness, which he gave unconditionally.   They made love that night; soft, sweet, natural love for the first time since her parents died, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.  In the morning she was like a changed person.  Everything seemed like it used to be and there was a honeymoon type of magic in the air. 

   They behaved like newlyweds, kissing, cuddling and making love almost as soon as they were awake.  They showered together, rubbing shower gel onto each other’s backs, and spent the morning laughing and giggling like a couple of pre-puberty schoolchildren.  Peter was on the verge of taking the day off when Sharina received a phone call.  After she had answered it she told him that she had to go out for a while, so he may as well go to work and they could continue where they left off when he arrived home.   He never asked her who it was, but checked to make sure that she was going to be alright after he left.   She assured him that she would be, and gave him a long passionate kiss that almost made him change his mind about going, but she shooed him along, again promising that the night would be magic.  

   Peter left home that morning a happy man, but was never to see his wife alive again.”

********

   “Why?  What happened?” Mary asked, her eyes opening wide with shock and curiosity.

   “On her way to wherever she was going there was a semi-trailer reversing out of a building.   She got caught in the driver’s blind spot, and he backed the truck right over her car just as she was forced to stop at a pedestrian crossing which crossed the street at a spot just to the left of the building.”

   “How horrible, but at least it was an accident and not induced by the sect.”

   Mary’s comment was met with silence.

   “It was an accident wasn’t it?”

   “Perhaps it was – perhaps not.  There were no witnesses to the accident.”

   “What about the person crossing the road?”

   “Disappeared without a trace.  The driver was in a state of shock and ended up in a ward for treatment for quite some time afterward.   And while no charges were ever laid, he had sworn on his mother’s grave that he had seen someone crossing in his  mirror, but he had not seem Sharina’s car.  Peter feels he may never know the truth, but will always be suspicious that it was an arranged death.   He doesn’t blame the driver, but he does wonder about the missing witness.  

   Peter was certain in his mind that the Punjani were dangerous, though something kept nagging at him that they weren’t responsible for Sharina’s death, and if that was the case he was probably not on their hit list.   But he also knew from what Sharina had told him it was more than possible, and , therefore, his own life as in danger.  At first he didn’t know what to do, it was certainly not a discussion seeking advice he could have with anybody.   Finally he decided that he would have to leave and find somewhere new to live, and hope he wasn’t prevented from doing so.

   He secretly made contact with a real estate agent and arranged to rent an apartment in the city before Sharina’s funeral, but told nobody about it.  A week after the funeral he told his partner, Doctor Tanshuni that he wished to terminate the partnership.   He was having trouble coping with Sharina’s death and he felt that he needed to go somewhere far away to learn to deal with his heartache.   Doctor Tanshuni tried gently to talk him out of his decision, but Peter was adamant that he needed solitude.   Doctor Tanshuni finally accepted defeat, said that he would be sorry to lose him as a fellow doctor, and wished him well and Peter moved to his new accommodation three days later.”

   “How did the Punjani react to his decision?”

“Well, as you can imagine, Peter couldn’t very well tell his patients that he was leaving because he no longer trusted them.  And they couldn’t say much to make him stay either, because they had no bargaining power as a result of his wife’s untimely death.   However, it was as a result of what happened next that absolved the Punani’s involvement in Sharina’s death in Peter’s mind.  Somebody had called her that morning and set her up, possibly with the help of the Punjaniti, but Peter doubted that it had been an action taken as a whole by the Punjani.   If they were worried about what she had told him, they would have killed him by now.   That was the way that Peter saw things, and the action taken by the Punjani in relation to Peter’s impending departure confirmed that thought for him.

The first that the Punjani knew of Peter’s impending departure had been either by the notice that had been placed on the notice board in the surgery, or by the advice given to the priest by Doctor Tashuni, and it did not take them long to get their heads together as to what action to take.   On the morning of Peter’s final day at the surgery every patient that attended the surgery arrived bearing food and presents, including patients that Peter was absolutely certain were not Punjani, and Peter was given a farewell that he knew he was never likely to receive again.   Every single patient expressed their gratitude and thanked him for the help and relief he had given to them over the past year, and every single patient had brought him a gift of varying value ranging from ten or fifteen pounds up to an immeasurable value.   Peter was overwhelmed by their show of appreciation.  He had doubted very much that they would have gone to these limits if the were intending to kill him the next day.

But Peter was to receive another surprise.   A surprise that he felt almost guaranteed his safety, and one that changed his life forever.   One of his patients, who identified himself as a lawyer, advised him that he was the sole inheritor of Sharina’s parent’s house due to the death of his wife, and under the circumstances they were willing to make him a fair offer should he wish to sell it.   He explained that he and his neighbours, as did the late owners of the house, were reasonably particular who moved into the street, and despite the huge price tag, new money purchasers could be more trouble than they were worth.   They would prefer to keep the street in the family, so as to speak.”

   “And did he?”

   “Yes.   He received a very fine offer which he accepted.   Peter never disclosed exactly how much he received, except to indicate it was in seven figure range.   One thing is for certain, he will never need to work again.   He only opened the clinic and helps out at the hospital to give him something to do … and he likes his work.   And the patients like him, especially those that really can’t afford treatment.     He doesn’t charge those that can’t afford it, he prefers to barter with them instead.    He  is a bachelor, so he needs repairs done to his clothing.   He often receives fresh vegetables and fruit in repayment for his services, and the occasional meal … and has been known on many occasions to give the patient the money to pay for their medication.   On the occasions when he has an overabundance of fruit and veggies he donates it to the local retirement home.   He is charitable, but does his best to make those that he help not feel like they are charity cases, simply neighbours down  on their luck at the moment.

“He sounds like a nice man,” Mary admitted, “but why did he come to Trenthamville.   Surely he would have been better off in London.

   “It was preordained … it was fate … it was an accident – take your choice.   But something brought Peter here for a reason … and he doesn’t really know what it is.   Not yet anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

   “Peter was not coming to Trenthamville originally.   He accidentally took the wrong exit.   He was supposed to exit nearly thirty miles further down the motorway to catch up with an old friend from his schooldays whose parents were celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary when, as fate would have it, his car broke down right in front of Frank’s garage.

   Frank couldn’t get the parts in until the following Tuesday, and his only hire car was also under repair.   So, on impulse, and Frank’s recommendation, Peter decided to stay at Missus O’Shaunassy’s bed and breakfast for the weekend and take in the local tourist things and fell in love with both the people he met, and the village itself … and never went back to London.

   Instead, he opened his surgery, volunteered at the hospital, and began his investigations into the folklore of this and surrounding villages.  Since Sharina had introduced him the existence of the Punjani he had become besotted by cults and the supernatural.   He had managed to obtain some of the titles he had seen in Ishmati’s man cave and had studied the contents on every spare moment he had.  Peter was unsure, but he felt that what he read was not purely related to past history, but somehow involved in what was yet to come.

   “And he told you all this?”   Mary asked in a slightly mocking tone.

   “Yes.”

   “But why … why would anybody confide a story like that with a perfect stranger?”

   “I don’t know.  My thoughts at the time were of unsurpassed amazement.  Perhaps he needed to tell his story to someone that he felt that he could trust.    Maybe he just wanted to make sure that the Punjani weren’t around here as well.  Or, perhaps, he felt that it was preordained for me to know because he knew that one day you would arrive and I would be the intermediary.” Laurie suggested with a jovial laugh.

   “Well, that would be a very strange coincidence indeed.” Mary replied dubiously.

   “Well, you can believe in coincidences any way that you like, but, believe it or not, Doctor James has just walked in,” Frank remarked offhandedly.

   Mary looked up just in time to see Doctor James approaching them.  He nodded, smiling as he passed them on his way to the bar.  “Good evening, Miss Cunningham, it’s a pleasure to see you again in such fine condition and such fine company.  No side effects from your accident?”

   “No, thank you, Doctor James.  Everything is fine.   Your arrival is perfect timing.  Won’t you please join us for a drink?   I believe that you know everybody here.” Mary motioned to an empty space beside Frank, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

   “Thank you, but I am not yet off duty.  I just dropped in to arrange to have my dinner delivered to the surgery.  Most nights I eat here at the hotel, but there has been a run of appointments today.   It left me with a lot of paper work, I missed lunch and I am starving.   By eating in the surgery I can also do the paperwork.    Kill two birds with the one stone, so as to speak.   Perhaps later, in an hour or so, if you are still here, otherwise thank you for the offer.  Laurie, Frank, ladies!”  He bowed his head then turned on his heels and continued his journey to the bar.

   “Strange coincidence alright, Laurie,” Mary noted with a tone of sarcasm, “Even you must admit that it seems a most unusual coincidence that a perfect stranger tells someone that they have just met the most incredulous story that anyone has ever heard, and the main character in the tale suddenly enters the room right on cue as the retelling of the story ends.”

   Laurie looked Mary squarely in the eye and spoke softly, and without emotion, “You are a stranger, Mary, and I am telling you all of this, aren’t I?’

   “Yes, but …”

   “And it is a strange story that I am telling a complete stranger, is it not?”

   “Yes, but …”

   “And, did not you, just a few minutes earlier, tell all of us strangers about a strange encounter that you had with some monster emerging from a still photograph of an old farm while you were in a garage?  An incredulous story wouldn’t you agree?”

   “Well, yes, I suppose so.  But it was you that asked me about it.” Mary replied defensively.

   “And wasn’t it, you, that insisted that Frank brought you here to talk to me about it?”

   “Yes.” Mary reluctantly agreed, succumbing to defeat in her argument.

   “I certainly understand what you are insinuating, Mary and, yes, I would think that most people would be inclined to agree with you.  There is, however, a difference between most people, and me.  I tell you this because of what you told me, what you saw, or at least, what you think you saw.   Because of what Frank was part witness to, and what even Malena became a little bit too closely involved in some time back … what you seem to have run into is deeply involved up Satanic worship!    And what you three have told me gives me great concern, because these type of strange events seem to have amplified in recent weeks.” 

   “Devil worship?   Here in Trenthamville?”  Mary asked incredulously.

    “It exists in many forms, and called by many names.  There are those in this village who would attempt to profit from selling their soul to Lucifer.  Peter recognised that in some that he had spoken to.   He would not have been able to at one stage of his life, but after the death of his wife he thought a lot about his ex-patients, and he recognised some traits in the locals here that he had seen in them.   His instincts had been heightened by the spell that the Punjaniti had cast on him.   It had given him powers that he is still pretty much unaware of how to use, but his aroused suspicions about his wife’s death, and her suspicions earlier, regarding her parent’s death, had spurred him on to find out more about the occult – about the Punjani, and other cults that worshipped false gods.

   The more he read the more he became aware of his gift for intuition.  He can’t read minds, but he can sense thoughts.  He can feel evil in a man without them recognising its existence.   And he can sense when a man is an equal in spirit, if not in purpose.   He sensed my power and recognised it as being equal, if not greater, to his own.”  

   Laurie paused for a second to gain maximum impact on his next statement,   “I am, Mary, a white witch, a white warlock if you prefer.  It is a gift that has been handed down throughout the generations that my family has lived in Trenthamville – even long before witchcraft had a name.  It was given to my family to protect the village from the evil that has always lurked here.  An evil that has existed since the dawn of time … and the centre of the dark ring is located at Forster farm.” 

   Mary dropped back into the seat and quickly swallowed the remainder of her drink.  Like Joseph had, when he first met Rosetta, she wondered exactly what it was she had got herself into.

Go to Episode 34