I gotta get a message to you..Beegees..Real heart puller..Also Grocer Jack..Same reason...

Since his humiliation, Frazer was a lonely lad. All his friends had
indeed deserted him, and he was at a complete loss of how to spend his time.

“What a mess,” he moaned.

He looked around at his parents’ home that was a bit larger than Candy’s.

“I’ll wander around the retail pod I think. See what is going on there.”

When he reached it, he wandered the floor, gazing at the well-stocked shops in awe.

“Here am I, no credit and no hope. It really is not fair.”

He saw a shop that he had been in before. It sold sportswear and was one of the most expensive on board.

“I wonder if those boots are still there?”

When he reached the stand, he saw that they were still on sale. He gazed at the price tag.

“A hundred credits. I’ll never afford that.”

He glanced at the staff, noting they were busy elsewhere. Smiling evilly to himself, he reached out and stuffed them beneath his thick jumper. He started whistling happily, as he made for the door.

No one had noticed of course, and he skipped his way back to his parent’s home.

“That was just too easy. Talk about lack security.”

He returned without incident, just as his sister stepped out from the bedroom.

“When did you get back?”

“About ten minutes ago. Where have you been?”

“Nowhere in particular.”

“I know that look.”

She slapped his top and the sports shoes dropped out. Snatching them up she saw the price tag.

“Thieving now are we?”

“I only borrowed them.”

“Take them back before someone notices.”

“I will not.”

She marched into the corridor and said sharply, “Security override, lock.”

“He’ll never get out of there now. Now I need a security guard.”

She headed for the security pod and found Mike having a break.

“Mind if I disturb you?”

He saw the expensive shoes and raised an eyebrow.

“By the look of those Esmay, I’d say that Frazer has been up to no good.”

“Shoplifting of all things.”

The guard shook his head.

“First bullying and now this. What’s wrong with him?”

“Just bored I suppose.”

“After a hundred days in the cooler he’ll be bored to death then.”

“Is there not another way to deal with this Mike?”

“Only if the retailer decides not to press charges. Come with me then.”

As they entered the retail pod he whispered, “What kind of punishment would you suggest?”

Esmay thought quickly.

“How about unpaid work?”

The guard shook his head.

“Too young for that.”

“Garden duty then?”

“That would mean working in the pet pod,” Mike told her. “He could cope with that.”

“If he’s smart.”

They entered the shop and handed back the shoes to an astonished
assistant.

“We never even noticed that they had gone.”

Mike smiled at her.

“Do you want to press charges?”

As she thought it over, Esmay suggested the alternative.

“Garden duty you say. That sounds punishment enough for me.”

“Thanks for your understanding,” Mike said. “I just hope that he accepts.”

Frazer was sitting watching television when the door slid open.

Without looking round he said, “I see you are back then.”

“I brought someone to see you.”

He glanced back and his face fell.

“Oh it’s you Mike.”

The grim faced guard walked over.

“Theft is a crime son. You know the penalty.”

“I’m not being sent there mate.”

“Resisting arrest now?” Esmay asked.

“That would be even more serious,” Mike chipped in.

“She took them from me,” Frazer countered.

“That won’t wash sonny,” the guard said. “You do have one
alternative to the cooler.”

“Which is?”

“Garden duty my boy.”

Frazer grinned.

“You must be joking. I hate cats anyway.”

The guard glanced at the sister.

“Sorry love I’ll have to take him in.”

He grabbed the miscreant roughly and hauled him outside.

“Can’t we talk about this?”

“Already tried that mate.”

The youth struggled and Mike pulled out his blaster.

“Perhaps I should try this on you?”

Frazer froze.

“Now move ahead mate. Perhaps this will sort you out.”

He escorted the prisoner back to the security pod and into the holding section. As the cell door slid open, Mike pushed him inside.

“If I were you I‘d sit here and think.”

He walked off, returning to his duties as the youth kicked the door.

When the parents returned they were none too pleased by their son’s behaviour. The irate father arrived at the security pod as Mike was
about to knock off.

“You can visit him if you wish.”

“Look, is there no way to sort this lot out?”

“He was given an alternative and rejected it outright.”

“Do you know what his ambition is?”

Mike shook his head.

“To be a doctor.”

“We have a droid for that.”

“That’s what I told him but he has set his heart upon it.”

“You can see him now. If you want I’ll talk to the doc for you.”

The droid had just seen a patient when the guard walked in.

“Can I have a word?”

“Go ahead.”

Mike explained the situation.

“I do not need any assistant you know. He is far too young anyway.”

“Is there nothing here that he can do?”

“Tending the patients is out of the question. He might kill a few.”

The droid looked around the room and said quietly,” Perhaps he could clean the loos for those hundred days.”

Mike smiled back.

“You know doc. That might not be a bad idea.”

When the guard informed Frazer, he was none too pleased.

“Why can’t droids do that?”

“There are some jobs that we do better my lad. Take it or leave it.”

The kid thought it over carefully.

“Only for a hundred days you say?”

“That is the term of the sentence.”

“Go on son,” the father said. “It’s better than sitting in here.”

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

Mike was pleased by this show of common sense.

“Your father can take you there now. The quicker you start the
better.”

As they left, Mike issued a warning.

“Just you remember Frazer. If you abscond its two hundred days in
the cooler without reprieve.”

Mike turned to the desk officer.

“That had better sort him out.”

“I doubt it mate. That kind never change.”

Mike glanced at his watch.

“Time for my rest period. I’ll see you later.”

The guard found his way to E deck and was nearly at his door when a
terrifying scream rent the still air. He whirled around and ran to
the door from whence it came.

The door slid open and a badly burnt woman fell into his arms.

As part of his guard duties, Mike had to check the animal pod at least once a day. There had never been any trouble reported of course, cats are such sociable animals.

As he stepped from the lift and started his walk through, a loud meow attracted his attention. Gazing up at the top branches of a small tree, he spotted a jet-black cat that was apparently stuck.

“Whatever are you doing up there Christine? Can’t you get down? It’s only five feet you know.

As the cat watched, he walked over and reaching out, brought the cat safely down. As he did this, Sammy entered.

“Morning Mike.”

“Sammy.”

“I see the cat has been climbing again?”

“Cats will be cats,” Mike replied.

The young boy placed the food bowl upon the grass and watched as the happy moggy bounded over.

“Any more trouble from Frazer?”

The boy shook his head.

“He keeps away from me now.”

Mike grinned.

“The trainer came to see me this morning you know.”

The guard had expected this.

“He obviously agrees with me.”

“I’ve signed up to the training programme. Do you really think I could make it as a professional?”

“After your performance in that ring, I don’t doubt it.”

The wall began to vibrate and the trees swayed a little as a weird sound drifted through the air.

“What do you think that is?” Sammy asked nervously

“I would not worry about it. The bridge staff will have it sorted out in no time.”

The commodore was resplendent in his green uniform as the underlings tried to figure out the cause.

“Anything on scanners yet?”

“No sir nothing at all.”

“How is our trim?”

“A1 sir.”

The vessel suddenly shook and a crewman reported, “It’s an intense gravity field sir. It appeared from nowhere and grabbed us.”

“That’s not possible,” the commodore said. “This is the middle of nowhere.”

“Impossible or not it’s here.”

A crewman called him over.

“I don’t like this sir. Our chronometer is running backwards.”

This development worried the officer.

“That means time travel. Reverse thrust, ten percent.”

The order was carried out smoothly and he watched as the chronometer slowed before moving forward again.

“All stop.”

The great generation ship slowed until it sat motionless within the endless void of space.

“How much time have we lost?” the commodore asked.

“It’s difficult to say sir. Could be minutes, days, or even forty thousand years.”

The commodore rubbed his greying hair.

“We are nowhere near a star you know. Gravity fields just can’t do that.”

“This one did sir.”

He was about to reply when the image of a yellow world suddenly appeared upon the screen.

“Where the hell did that come from? Is it actually there?”

“According to our instruments sir it’s sold alright.”

“Run a scan right now.”

“Atmosphere breathable, pressure E 1,”

The commodore knew what that meant.

“Just like Earth then. Any sign of industrial activity?”

“Absolutely not sir. Surface temperature eighty-two Fahrenheit. That indicates a tropical environment.”

“Well I suppose we had better check it out. It might explain its sudden arrival. Landing team at the double.”

Mike responded to the call and soon reached the landing pod. Along with the commodore, and he, two others joined them.

“Everyone ready?”

“Yes sir.”

They stepped into the large metallic tube before it was literally dropped through the floor. It safely hurtled through the atmosphere before thrusters brought it safely to the surface. Stepping out, the commodore fingered his sonic blaster nervously.

“I’ve always wanted to visit a jungle,” Mike commented.

“This is certainly one of those Mike.”

They stood within a small clearing with huge trees all around. Midges buzzed everywhere as liquid dripped from the thick leaves.

“We had better go this way,” the commodore said.

They fought their way through the thick growth, as tendrils wrapped around their feet. They finally stopped as a huge statue came into view.

“I don’t believe it,” a crewman whispered.

Mike gazed upon the grey cat like statue with undisguised wonder.

“Who built it?”

“I seem to remember something similar on old Earth.”

They crept forward and Mike ran a finger over the smooth, warm stone.

“It must be centuries old.”

They walked around it, noting the lack of growth.

“This really does not make sense,” the commodore said. “This should at least be covered in moss.”

“I agree sir,” Mike commented.

As they pondered this puzzle, the front of the statue rolled upwards and a figure stepped out. The travellers pulled the blasters out automatically but did not fire.

“I mean you no harm,” the stranger said in a high pitched voice.”

Mike gazed upon the cat like being who stood around six foot high. A long tail swished from the rear as the paws held an obviously sick child.

“We need your help.”

The commodore re-sheathed the weapon and examined the youngster.

“I know nothing about your species but she has a high temperature.”

“She ate the glory plant, despite being told not to.”

“Put her down and I’ll check her over,” Mike suggested.

He knelt and checked the pupils carefully.

“Her breathing is a little raspy and she is borderline coma.”

He glanced up.

“Looks like alkali poisoning to me sir.”

The commodore nodded and contacted the ship.

Five minutes later a second pod arrived and a droid marched over. He ignored the creature and examined the sick child.

“Will she live?” the father asked.

“A simple remedy will sort this out,” the droid said. He applied a short injection and watched for signs of improvement. A moment later, the breathing returned to normal and the child sat up.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Mike said. “We mean you no harm.”

The child ran to the parent and held him tight.

“You should take more care of her,” the commodore advised.

“How can I thank you?”

The commodore had a thought.

“Try explaining your sudden arrival. It really shook us up.”

The father pointed at the statue.

“Our community lives beneath this obelisk. We have done now for centuries. We detected your craft and drew you to us.”

“That explains the gravity field,” the commodore muttered.

“Such a method was necessary,” the father explained. “We ensured that no damage would occur.”

As the commodore thought this over, he suddenly realised something.

“The time change. Your world exists in the remote past.”

The father nodded.

“Around a million of your years to be exact.”

He saw the shocked look upon their faces and put that to rest.

“When you return to your ship, everything will be reset.”

Mike smiled.

“You are really that powerful.”

“Sometimes too powerful,” the creature said sadly. “Now you must go back. Holding your ship here is a drain on our power.”

The commodore wished them well and led his men back to the pods.
When he reached the bridge, there was a violent jolt.

“We are caught in a repulsion field sir. The chronometer is whizzing forward again.”

The image of the strange world faded, to be replaced by the darkness of space.

“Reverse thrusters,” the commodore ordered.

The great ship drew to a halt as a crewman said, “All stop sir. No reports of damage.”

The commodore smiled with relief.

“Let’s get on our way then.”

As the craft began its voyage once more, Mike was standing within the observation pod gazing at the darkness. Sammy joined him for a moment.

“What was it like?”

Mike sighed.

“Beautiful my boy. Probably gone now. Such a shame.”

The young boy was puzzled.

“I really don’t understand.”

Mike gazed down.

“We visited a ghost from the ancient past. Where is your mom by the way?”

Sammy smiled.

“Would you believe learning to swim?”

Horaya lay upon the table as the scan was completed inside the medical pod. A precocious thirteen year old, she was as nervous as hell.

The android waited until the report flashed upon his screen before
delivering his final judgement.

“You are pregnant.”

“What do you mean pregnant?”

“You have had sexual relations.”

Horaya was shocked by the news.

“How far gone?”

“Four months.”

“My parents will kill me!”

The android reacted according to his programming.

“That is a capital offence. Would you like me to call security?”

This request threw her into a panic.

“Don’t you dare! It’s a human term. Something you would not understand.”

“Oh I see. Please leave now. I have real patients.”

Horaya gave it a filthy look and stepped off the table. As she entered the corridor, she thought things over.

“How will I explain this to my parents? Wait a moment. Perhaps Mike can help?”

She checked her watch and smiled.

“I know exactly where he will be right now. The adult pod.”

When she entered the well lit bar, the android server pointed a
finger at her.

“Children are not allowed within this establishment.”

Mike glanced away from his Grouse and saw the problem.

“Hello my girl. What are you doing here by the way?”

She stood her ground, eyes locked to the infamous red line.

“I really need a word Mike.”

The guard recognised the plaintive cry within those words and
finished his drink off. Once outside she opened up.

“Who’s the father?”

Horaya shook her head.

“I cannot remember Mike. There were so many.”

The guard was worried.

“You know the rules as well as I know them.”

“Don’t remind me. No father and the pregnancy is terminated. That is the least of my problems right now.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Do you really think my parents are going to accept this? You know what they are like.”

Mike thought this conundrum over for a moment.

“As I see it, we have only one option my dear.”

“Which is?”

Mike smiled sweetly.

“Find the father of course. That might put a different complexion on things.”

The girl tried to smile but failed miserably.

“I just hope you are right.”

“Do you keep a diary by any chance?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then go and get it. I’ll meet you on the sports pod, badminton section.”

The girl dashed off to collect the well-kept record of her life.

As she entered the apartment, she was thankful that her parents were at work. She collected the book and dashed out as Mike played badminton with the android instructor.

As she dashed in, he turned just as the shuttlecock slammed into his skull.

“Are you hurt? Should I call the medics?”

Mike shook his painful head.

“No harm done.”

As Horaya handed the document over, he flicked through it.

“How far are you gone?”

“Four months.”

He found the date easily and said, “According to this you were at a
birthday party. Does not say who’s though.”

The girl thought back.

“I was at Cassandra's fourteenth.”

“We should speak to her then. Come on, lead the way.”

They found Cassandra in the knowledge pod, just a fancy name for a
library.

“Hello Horaya, nice to see you again dear.”

“I’m in a bit of a fix Cassandra. Can you help?”

“That depends upon the problem.”

“She’s pregnant,” Mike said sharply.

“Your not are you?”

“I certainly am. Up the creek without a paddle.”

“What do you want to do then?”

“I need to find the father. Do you know that I cannot remember?”

Cassandra giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Mike asked.

“Horaya was out of it that night. Pretty smashed.”

“Who did I go with?”

Cassandra smiled.

“Vince of course. You know. Tall, slim and damn handsome. I was really jealous.”

“Do you know where he is?” Mike asked.

Cassandra nodded.

“At the pool. He loves to swim at this time of day.”

When they found the pool within the sports pod, Vince was swimming lengths as usual.

“That’s him,” the girl said.

“Hey you, we need a word.”

The young fifteen year old swam to the ledge and said, “What for?”

“This young lady is pregnant,” Mike informed him.

“It has nothing to do with me.”

“Remember that party?” Horaya asked.

“Oh no...”

“Oh yes,” she whispered.

“We could prove it through DNA,” the guard warned.

Vince shook his head at once.

“No need mate. I’m man enough to accept this.”

“Decent bloke,” Mike said. “Let me help you out.”

“What are we going to say to my parents?”

Mike thought this over.

“Well they both work in the retail pod. If you want I’ll have a word for you.”

“You would do that?” Horaya asked.

“Of course my dear. Don’t worry yourselves about this.”

Staring hard at Vince he said, “You have responsibilities now. What do you want from life?”

Vince smiled.

“Believe it or not I am a pretty good musician.”

Mike raised his eyebrows.

“It takes all sorts.”

He left the lovebirds alone to sort themselves out and headed for the parents. He found them in the clothes store, working hard as the queue got longer.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the guard said.

The woman looked at him and said sweetly, “Go to the rear of the queue please.”

Mike shook his head.

“This is official business mam. I need to see both you and your
husband right now.”

The mother knew better than to argue with that demand.

“Come into the back room then.”

As she led the way, she called the husband to her.

“We seem to be in trouble.”

As soon as they entered the back room, the guard put them at rest.

“Don’t worry. Neither of you are in trouble.”

“So what’s the problem? We have customers you know.”

“There is really no way to say this but your daughter is pregnant.”

“She’s what?” the father said in shock.

“Who is the father?” the mother asked.

“The musician,” Mike replied carefully.

“Why not come to us?” the father asked.

“Seems that she was a little frightened.”

“Of us?” the father asked.

“Not of you per say. Just at how to break the news.”

The mother smiled and said proudly, “Horaya is our daughter and we will take care of her. Where is she by the way?”

The guard told them.

The mother gazed at her husband and asked, “Can we invite this
musician to supper?”

“I don’t see why not. After all, he is part of the family now isn’t he.”

Ep 1

Candy stood looking out of the huge reinforced porthole. A single mother of 28, she was looking into the eternal darkness that was broken only by the distant twinkling stars.

She was but one of a thousand people. She was but one in a long line of generations. A hundred generations that had gone by since leaving the doomed planet Earth.

She smoothed down her blue dress and turned toward her home. As a single mother, this was pretty sparse. A single lounge, a sofa, and wall cabinet was her lot in this life. The kitchen lay off in another room, not your usual kitchen though. Food here was recycled and replicated. A small box looking like a microwave, tap a few buttons and your sustenance appeared.

Off to the right stood the bedroom. A fold down bed was hidden within the wall and the walk in wardrobe was a godsend.

A sudden worry, one of many suddenly assaulted her young mind.

“I wonder where Sammy has got to?”

She walked to the door that slid back automatically. As she entered the bright corridor, a familiar face walked toward her.

“Hello Mike. Have you seen my son?”

The silver suited security guard smiled as he always did.

“He’s in the entertainment pod. Lost him again?”

She tried to laugh but the emotion was fake.

“He does have a nasty habit of wandering off sometimes.”

Mike nodded as Candy walked past, heading for the non-descript lift.
As she walked inside, a smooth electronic voice asked, “Where to?”

“The entertainment pod please.”

The lift jerked for a few moments before the doors slid open once more.

She stepped out and saw the slot machines lined against the wall.
She immediately saw her wayward son, pulling the handle down for the umpteenth time.

Sammy was your typical twelve year old. Self centred and determined to rebel once or twice. As she marched up, he spotted her at once.

“What are you doing here?”

“Would you believe looking for you?" Why not tell me where you are going? Or at the very least leave me a note.”

“It’s not what we do mom.”

“What do you mean by we?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I need you to do something for me.”

Sammy knew what was coming and he hated it.

“Do I really have to?”

“You know the rules.”

Sammy parroted them just to annoy her.

“All pets are the sole responsibility of the owners.”

“You got it in one. Go on then, Christine is waiting. Here, take this.”

Sammy shrugged his shoulders and marched toward the lift as his helpless mother looked on.

The pet pod was not quite the correct name for this place. Only cats were allowed of course. No ferocious or docile dogs. As Sammy entered, he gazed upon the small trees and the green grass that grew for a mile in all directions.

To the left of the shaft, a replicator was built into the wall and after tapping a few buttons, he removed the twin bowl of food and water. He walked a short distance and placed these upon the ground before pressing the pad that his mom had given him.

Every cat was fitted with a throat band, and each band contained a unique beeper.

“Come on Christine, diner time.”

A few minutes passed before the jet-black female cat bounded towards him in response. Its deep yellow eyes regarded him carefully as it meowed its appreciation. Then its tail curled around the sleek body as it sat down to eat.

Sammy returned to the entertainment pod by which time his mom had gone. Sitting once more at the slot machine a group of unruly youths
walked over.

“Still here Sammy?”

“What is it to you Frazer?”

The tall and really brutish boy gave him a violent shove. Sammy
crashed onto the floor as Frazer and his thugs laughed.

“Always doing what mommy wants.”

Sammy stood up smartly.

“I do not.”

“You are nothing but a mommy’s boy.”

“You take that back.”

Frazer gave him his special hardened look.

“Try and make me.”

Sammy was really in a tight spot and tried his best. He took a step and swung his clenched fist at the main bully. Sadly for him though,
Frazer had seen it coming. Ducking quickly, he kicked out towards the fragile groin.

Sammy screamed and went down hard as Frazer placed a boot upon his face.

“Lick it!”

Sammy did this, even as tears poured down his youthful cheeks.

The bullies ran off to molest someone else as Sammy writhed upon the floor.

“What’s up?” Mike said as he ran from the lift.”

Sammy managed to sit up, hands holding his groin.

“Nothing happened.”

“Don’t give me that. You should know better than lying to a security guard.”

Sammy knew very well the punishment for such a stupid act. Thirty days in the cooler.

“So tell me straight.”

Sammy winced with pain and told the story.

“That creep needs taking down a peg or two,” the guard said helping him up.

Sammy shook his head.

“He will just try again.”

“Not if you humiliate him Sammy. You see, thugs like that love to be the boss. As soon as his so-called friends realise he’s just like you they will desert him.

“So how do I do that Mike? He’s bigger than me. What would mom say?”

Mike understood perfectly. Grinning at the young man he whispered, “What will she do if you don’t?”

“Do you have any suggestions?”

Mike thought for a moment.

“Why not a boxing match?”

“He would slaughter me.”

“I have seen you in the gym thumping that bag. You are a natural.”

Sammy thought this over and asked, “Will you come with me Mike?”

The guard shook his head.

“You know that I cannot do that. When it’s set up tell me. You know where to find me.”

The young lad was buoyed up by his confidence and left the entertainment pod at once. He knew exactly where to find Frazer.

As he entered the bowling alley, the brute was showing off as usual.

As he saw Sammy enter, he smiled.

“What do you want?”

Sammy steeled himself.

“Fancy a punch up?”

Frazer looked at him rather sternly.

“You challenging me to a boxing match then?”

“Sure am mate. Chicken are we?”

That was a word the thug had never heard before.

“All right then mummy’s boy. Let’s say at six then.”

Sammy smiled back. See you there.”

As Mike rang the bell, Candy answered and smiled.

“Can I have a word?”

“Of course you can. Come inside.”

Mike entered the quarters and made to explain things.

“Your son is being bullied. Did you know?”

“I had no idea.”

“Look, don’t hate me for this but I suggested a boxing match to sort it out.”

“I could never hate you. A boxing match though is a pretty serious step. Can he handle it?”

Mike smiled.

“I think Frazer is in for the shock of his life.”

The door slid open and Sammy entered smiling all over.

“The fight is at six.”

Candy took him by the shoulders.

“I’ll be there to watch. Are you coming Mike?”

The guard put his arms around them both.

“I would not miss it for the world.”

At the expected hour, the arena was quite busy. As was the custom, the challenge had posted all over this generation star ship and the audience had arrived in droves.

Sammy sat at the right corner whilst the brute sat smiling at the left. His friends were goading him.

When the electronic bell sounded, the brute leapt off the seat and ran at the young man. Sammy dodged like an expert and waited for the expected strike.

Frazer rounded upon him, lashing out a left and right. Sammy managed to parry these and remained upon the defensive throughout that first round.

When the bell went, they retreated to their corners and rested until it sounded again.

This time Frazer had a little more respect and started with a few probing jabs. Sammy waited for his chance. When Frazer thought his moment had come, he dropped his guard and launched a terrifying upper cut.

Sammy leapt back as it struck fresh air before countering with a triple volley. As the gloves smashed his jaw, the brute reeled against the ropes. Sammy stepped back a little, luring him into his trap.

Frazer struck again, a left and right that nearly broke through.
Sammy ducked and weaved until a gap opened up and he lashed out with a right. As Frazer reeled back, Sammy launched a ferocious volley that completely fazed his opponent.

Reeling now, Frazer’s guard fell and Sammy struck with short jabbing blows. This time, the brute’s knees buckled until he collapsed upon the canvas floor.

As Sammy yelled, the crowd cheered its appreciation. He gazed at the crumpled boy before stepping out of the ring. At the far corner,
Frazer’s friends were walking away in absolute disgust.

“What did you think mom?” Sammy asked.

She held him tight.

“I’m really proud of you son.”

Mike was beaming too.

“You have the makings of a damn good boxer Sammy. That thug will never harm you again. I even saw his mates walking off.”

Sammy looked back as Frazer managed to sit up at last.

As Charly lay upon the sofa in a world of darkness, he thought that he heard Grant’s familiar voice whisper to someone, “He’s starting to wake up. You had better scarper.”

Charly slowly opened his eyes and saw his old and lamented friend staring down at him. He recognised the long grey beard of course which he was gently stroking.

“Awake are we?”

Charly sat up groggily as the cat looked down from the headrest.

“For someone who’s supposed to be dead, you look pretty well to me.”

“You have my apologies,” Grant said. “None of this was my doing.”

“What’s it like being dead?”

Grant smiled.

“The same as life really. Only more boring.”

Charly rubbed his sore head as his friend stared at him.

“How I explain this to the DI I’ve no idea.”

“He is the least of our worries mate.”

A scuffing sound from the bedroom took Charly’s attention.

“Did you bring anyone?”

Grant shook his head and called out, “You had better come in here mate. You’ve been rumbled.”

A tall, medium built gent entered the lounge at once. Charly stared in mounting disbelief at the golden crown, the blue eyes, and full cheeks. A suit of gleaming armour was finished off by a jewelled sword belt.

“Oh this is just far too much,” Charly muttered, closing his eyes again.

“You must wake up!”

Grant slapped his cheek gently.

“You are awake mate. Meet Henry the Ninth.”

Charly glared back as the monarch approached.

“There were only eight by the way.”

“I’m your future king Charly. I wanted to surprise you and that is why I resurrected your old friend.”

“However did you manage that feat?”

The king pointed out his large sapphire ring.

“We really have to talk you know,” the king said.

“Go ahead, I’m all ears.”

As Grant sat upon the armchair, the king told his sorry tale.

“In my time your world is a hellish place. Despite this, I managed to marry Anabelle, who became my queen. She turned out to be right hag, if there ever was one.”

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“She tried to grab my throne and when that failed, she returned through time to undo history itself.”

“So you followed her.”

“You got it in one mate,” Grant said cheerfully.

“At this present moment, she is gathering an army to the east of Foxley Wood.”

“For what purpose?”

“To lay the town waste my friend.”

Charly took this on board as usual, but could still not make the proper connection.

“I hate to be awkward but how will that change history?”

The king smiled.

“My mother will be born here.”

Now Charly understood.

“So there are the three of us and the DI’s men of course, facing an army of what?”

Grant was astonished.

“What’s got into you mate? You are a bit slow on the uptake today.”

“How about lack of sleep?”

“Oh I see. He’s just a bit tired.”

The king shook his head sadly.

“There shall be no sleep today my friend. For today, a mighty battle
will be fought in Foxley. A battle that will literally decide the future of England.”

The grand words did not impress this tired man.

“We could do with an army of our own really.”

The words had just tumbled out when he saw the king smiling.

“You have reinforcements?”

“They will be here shortly. A mighty force to smite the evil witch.”

Grant nudged Charly’s arm.

“Sounds great eh?”

Charly nodded.

“At least it will even the odds a little.”

The king smiled and pulled his sword from its sheath.

“This mighty blade shall cut them to pieces.”

“Wait a second,” Charly said. “I just realised. Knights of old. You are talking about horses and lances and that sort of thing.”

“Not forgetting the mighty bowmen,” the king added.

Charly sank his head into his sweating palms.

“Whatever’s the matter with you?” Grant asked.

“The event I warned the cops about has finally arrived.”

“Should have kept your mouth shut then mate.”

Charly stood and wandered over to the drinks cabinet. After pouring a stiff Grouse, he slurped it down.

“How I needed that.”

Turning slowly he said, “I need to know where your army will deploy?”

“At Baker’s Farm. We shall dominate the high ground.”

Charly thought this over for a moment.

“With you there and Anabelle at the wood, our town is slap bang in the middle. There is going to be utter carnage!”

“This is sadly true,” the king said. “You can’t make an omelette, without breaking a few eggs first.”

Charly was rightfully horrified.

“What about the people though? Do you really want them diced in the cross fire?”

“In my day such things happen regularly my friend.”

“Not in my day they don’t!” Charly shrieked. “We treat people with respect. We don’t invite them to a right royal carve up!”

“There is no other way,” the King insisted.

“What about the woman who will give birth to your mother? What if she is killed this day?”

Grant already knew the answer.

“She’s in London. Apparently doing a course on fly fishing.”

Charly stared hard at them both.

I take it that the queen does not know this?”

“Her intelligence is not as clear as my own,” the king replied.

“There must be another way to settle your differences.”

The king shook his head sadly.

“During the revolt, I narrowly avoided one of her arrows. Do you really think a king can forgive such an act? My name sake would have chopped her head off.”

Charly glared at him.

“It’s a damn pity you didn’t do that in the first place. It would have saved us all a hell of a lot of grief!”

He tried to calm down but in vain.

“When does your ruddy army arrive?”

“In about three minutes. Battle shalt commence seventeen after this.”

Charly shook his head.

“That’s not really enough time.”

“It’s all we have,” Grant assured him.

Charly snatched the mobile from the coffee table and rang a number.

“Morning Nixon, bit of a flap on here. Just listen will you. Do we still have that wartime siren?”

“Of course we do,” the DI replied.

Just listen for a change. I want it activated in precisely twenty minutes. Not one second later. Do you understand?”

“Whatever for mate?” the stunned DI said.

“Just listen very carefully. If you don’t do this, everyone in
Foxley will be killed. Including the two of us.”

“I’ll certainly set it off then visit you for an explanation.”

“It will be too late by then detective inspector Nixon. Far too late.”

He switched off and placed the phone upon the table once more.

“We had better go to the farm then,” he muttered. “Your army will be waiting.”

Before leaving, Charly removed the binoculars from his drawer and led them outside to the old mini.

“You kept it mate.”

“Of course I did Grant. It may be clapped out and rattle a bit but it’s the damn best car in town.”

He threw his friend the keys and slid into the passenger side as the king settled into the rear.

“To the farm,” the king ordered. “Make haste now, or we lose this day.”

As the mini approached the old farm, an astonished Charly saw lines of gleaming warriors. As they stopped and got out, he simply gawped for once.

“Impressive eh?” Grant said.

“I have two lines of horse, one line of pike and three lines of archers. Anabelle is in for quite a shock.”

Charly gazed at the gleaming knights and wished that he could mount up. To his adult eyes, this was a childhood dream come true.

He glanced toward the distant wood and peered through the viewfinder.

“Your queen’s force is about half your size I think.”

Handing them over to the king, he muttered with a wink, “I think we shall triumph Grant.”

The king viewed the enemy force and marched towards a vacant white charger. Before he trotted to the fore, Charly shouted, “How can we help?”

As if in response, a pike man handed them two lethal weapons and pointed to the waiting spaces.

“Seems as though we were expected,” Grant muttered.

At that precise moment, a truly terrifying warbling filled the air as the doomsday siren blared its clarion call. Across the town, terrified shoppers and police alike dashed for the nearest cover.
Within the station, DI Nixon led Sergeant Percy outside.

“Come on man! We have to see Charly now. He must need our ruddy help.

Upon the hill at Baker’s farm, the proud and noble king raised his sword toward heaven and shouted the immortal line. Known throughout Britain’s noble history.

“For King and country!”

The knights moved off at once and Charly and Grant followed the pike men down behind them. As they advanced, the archers moved in tandem.

Within Foxley, the officers had just climbed inside the panda car as the first salvo of lethal arrows showered down. As they smashed off the roof, the DI asked desperately “What’s going on?”

“They look like arrows sir. Where from though?”

Queen Anabelle’s archers had fired the first shot and her smaller army began pouring into town. A counter volley of arrows was launched from the king’s army, that reigned down upon all and sundry.

“We had better get back inside!” the DI shouted. “Charly can go to hell for once.”

As they dived out, sergeant Percy was struck in the chest by a descending projectile. He staggered and went down as the DI ran to help. The horrified officer knew death when he saw it.

“You bastards! You bloody bastards!”

The king’s troop had entered the town, and his advance was met by the queen’s knights. As the mighty army clashed, the king was forced to retreat as the maces crashed around him. An enemy charged the king’s horse but the monarch was far too experienced for that.

He swung his steed, and the sword caught the knight square on and the wounded man toppled to the ground.

“Fall back,” he shouted. “Fall back.”

Outside the station, the DI saw an impossible sight.

From either end of the street, two lines of pike were approaching fast.

He hollered for support as the siren continued to blare, but no one could hear now.

Diving beneath the car, he watched as the armies met head on. The mighty pikes slashed and pushed against each other, as the air was rent with the wounded and the dying. Among this lot stood Charly and Grant, who were now fighting side by side for their very lives.

Just as they seemed to get the upper hand, a knight rode up.

“The king has called us back. You must break off.”

The pike men turned and fled in absolute disarray as the queens men cheered and screamed. Trapped beneath the exposed panda car, the DI managed to get his hands upon a fallen pike. Sensing that the enemy was at least distracted, he slid out from the far side and brandished the weapon for all he was worth.

The queen’s men turned at this unexpected threat.

“Come on then!” the DI shouted. “See if you lot are man enough!”

As Nixon stared at the enemy, a rider in shining armour suddenly bore down upon him. His extended sword tearing into the officer’s unprotected stomach. As his guts spilled out, he dropped the weapon and collapsed backwards.

Now almost finished, the enemy surrounded him. Raising their pikes high, they plunged them into his fragile body.

They ran on now, toward the waiting hill and perceived victory.

Upon Baker’s Hill, from which the farm was named, the king’s army waited patiently. Charly however was extremely annoyed.

“We had them on the run. Why not finish them?”

The king was just ahead and heard every word. Turning his head, he said calmly, “Remember the Battle of Hastings?”

Charly knew his history of course. Whispering to Grant, he quickly explained the meaning.

“The Norman’s fell back and retreated down the hill. Believing victory was at hand; Harold’s line broke and charged in pursuit. The
Normans turned and cut them to pieces.”

“King Henry is using the same tactic then,” Grant commented.

“Exactly the same. Luckily for us, we still hold the high ground.”

The queen’s army came into view and the king laughed aloud.

“See how she cowers at their core. Archers!”

At this command, a hail of arrows blotted out the sun and fell upon the enemy’s men. As they started to fall in large numbers now, the queen’s archers responded.

Charly lowered his head as the arrow heads struck the men around him. Screams rent the air as the town’s siren continued its mournful call.

“Pike forward!”

The lines of knights parted, and the pike men moved ahead now, clashing with the oncoming enemy at last. Charly lashed out, catching his opponent off guard. As he collapsed, Grant thrust ahead, splitting a stomach wide open.

The front line buckled and bent as the battle continued. The king’s arrows slaughtering more of the enemy, than his own. At last, the queen’s line broke and the pike surged forward.

Charly found himself with a bit of room as a knight charged him down. Charly side stepped and struck him savagely. As the armoured warrior struck the ground, Charly smashed his heavy weapon through the open visor and pulled the bloody tip out.

“Grant? Where are you?”

“I’m over here mate. Need some ruddy help!”

As the mayhem persisted, Charly swung, battered, and smashed his way towards his loyal friend. He saw the three pike men trying to bore him down and struck out to defend him.

With the odds a bit more even, the opponents fell quickly and the two joyous men could hardly believe their run of luck.

From behind them, a cry rang out and Charly swung around in slow motion. He saw the king hit the ground with a sickening crunch. As this happened, the queen’s horse charged with lance lowered toward the helpless monarch.

Charly screamed aloud, moving quickly between the two deadly foes. He swung the mighty pike, just as the lance caught him square on.

Now skewered, his weight caught the queen by surprise and she was rapidly unhorsed. As she struck the ground, Grant gave her a savage blow to the face, which killed the hag at once.

Shouts of,"The queen is dead!” rent the air as a furious enemy soldier thrust a sword into Grant’s back.

He screamed and whirled around, just in time to see his killer struck down by a mighty mace. As he too fell beside Charly, the relieved king called for the enemy to surrender.

Without their filthy monarch, they threw away their ancient weapons and knelt to await their ominous fate.

The king now looked down upon the bodies of two of the fallen heroes. They lay almost side by side in death, as they had sat once before in the peace of the flat.

“You shall always be remembered as my heroic subjects.”

The king turned and pressed the large sapphire ring.

As he did so, the surviving army of both sides faded from view, leaving two bloodied corpses lying upon that field of eternal honour.

The dark adventures of Charly
The End

Charly had been unable to sleep. A week had now passed since the body incident and during that time darkness had eluded him. As he tossed around for the umpteenth time, he felt the cat crawling across his warm bed.

He opened his eyes groggily, noting the dim sunlight filtering into his room. He yawned and looked toward the bedroom door before squinting frantically.

“Hello Charly.”

He stared at the mirror image that was smiling back at him.

“Can’t you but out of my life mate?”

“Don’t you realise that we are linked? I am so to speak your future projection.”

“Balls! You are certainly a projection all right. A projection of my
coming insanity.”

The image laughed and shook his head.

“I can also remember saying that mate. Look how time flies.”

“What do you want this time? Another brick?”

“Certainly not,” the image replied.

Charly climbed out of bed as Christine leapt onto the floor.

“Out with it then.”

The image wandered to the window and gazed out.

“Not such a wonderful day you know.”

When Charly joined him, he saw the same boring scene.

“Seems alright to me.”

“You think so? You had better answer that.”

The image vanished and Charly stood there rather perplexed.

“Answer what for crying out loud?”

A moment later his mobile rang and he dashed to the bedside cabinet to answer.

“Oh it’s you Nixon. I seem to be awake. Why send a car? I’ll be ready for you.”

He disconnected and opened the waiting wardrobe. He saw the old poncho that a lost friend had once owned and lazily put it on.

As the panda car drew up, he climbed inside the rear.

“You are a sight this morning. Still not sleeping are we?”

Charly smiled ruefully.

“Morning Nixon. This must be an urgent case.”

As Percy drove off the DI filled him in.

“Remember the body thing?”

“How could I forget?”

“The academy had a fire this morning.”

“That is nothing unusual,” Charly replied.

“It is when the damn freezer goes up.”

The reply certainly helped to wake Charly up and when they arrived, he was taken to the suspicious scene.

As with most medical establishments, the academy had its own large freezer. If it did not have one of course, the specimens would surely rot.

This particular freezer was located at the rear and as Charly approached from the internal corridor, the acrid scent was overwhelming.

“The fire chief is waiting for us,” the sergeant explained.

As they arrived, Charly saw the blackened wall of the room and realised a heavy conflagration had erupted here.

“Morning chief,” Nixon said happily. “What’s the damage?”

“You had better look inside.”

When they entered the room, thick black ash coated the floor, walls and ceiling. At the far end, the trays had been gutted.

“Where was the ignition point?” Charly asked.

The chief pointed.

“Seemingly one of the bodies went up. Don’t ask me how though. At minus twenty it should be impossible.”

Charly wandered over and examined the wreckage.

“Any sign of an overload? Burnt out circuit?”

“Nothing,” the chief replied. “Even the automatic sprinkler failed to function.”

“That’s on a separate circuit though,” Charly commented.

“I know that. Even this baffles me.”

“What do you think?” the DI asked.

“You can rule out arson for a start Nixon. No one could have got in here.”

“How else did it start?”

“For the moment sergeant, the explanation eludes me. Probably because I never ate any breakfast.”

The DI chuckled.

“Come on then. I’ll treat you at JO JO’s.”

The cafe on Market Street had opened an hour earlier and as Charly tucked into his sausage and pie, the DI gave him his thoughts.

“Nothing that I know of could cause a corpse to spontaneously combust like that. That is why I called you in.”

“I understand that Nixon. Thankfully nobody was hurt.”

“So what would be your theory?” Percy asked.

Charly stopped chewing and drank his cola.

“Whatever caused that had to generate tremendous heat.”

“I think that is obvious,” the DI said.

“It can also penetrate a metal tray.”

“I follow you so far,” Percy said.

Charly thought deeper still.

“It’s certainly not a natural phenomenon.”

“Are we talking about aliens again?” the DI whispered.

Charly shook his head.

“Not this time my friend. Remember my warning sergeant?”

“About worse to come? Sure I do.”

“I am starting to wonder if it has arrived.”

“So do we ignore this as a one off?” the DI asked.

“I don’t think so,” Charly replied. “I believe we are watching a sequence of finely tuned events.”

“Now I am lost,” Percy admitted.

“Let me explain then,” Charly said. “The vampire, then the werewolf.

That was followed by the corpse, and now we have a mystery fire.”

“So what comes after this?” the DI asked.

Charly looked grim.

“Perhaps checkmate Nixon. Checkmate for the lot of us.”

“That presupposes a purpose,” the sergeant pointed out.

“It certainly does. Someone far more powerful than we are.”

“Now you are scaring me,” Nixon said quietly.

“Sometimes I scare myself mate. Now, back to the present problem. I expect another fire in town.”

“I don’t suppose you could tell me where?”

“If I could do that Nixon, I’d be famous you know. Just watch yourself though. The laws of physics don’t apply in this case.”

This line of reasoning left the two officers more baffled than ever.
They did not realise that not so far away, a certain club owner was in for a rude awakening.

Perky Road was where the gay clubs were located. One of those was a small establishment that went by the name of Latin Light. Of course at this time of morning, the club was closed however, the owner and the cleaners mucked in to get everything ready.

Gerry gazed at all the smashed glass littered over the wooden floor and grimaced.

“Don’t worry mate,” the cleaner said. “We will sort this out for you.”

“I don’t know why they do it,” Gerry said. “The cost of glass has soared.

The cleaner understood and gave a pretty good suggestion.

“Why not use plastic? Can’t break that.”

Gerry shook his head.

“The cliental would never stand for it.”

He wandered into the office and started doing the books. This was a disagreeable chore that he hated, but it just had to be done. As he totalled up, a sudden cry reached him from the dance floor.

He raced out and saw the cleaner enveloped in a swirl of orange flame.

“Crikey!”

He dashed to the fire area and freed an extinguisher. Dashing back, he was astonished to see the cleaner gasping with shock. All sign of
the flames had gone.

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know Gerry. It scared the living daylights out of me.

The door opened and Lisa the barmaid entered the establishment.

“Hi guys.”

“Morning Lisa,” Gerry said in greeting.

Noting the extinguisher she asked, “Something up?”

“We don’t know,” the cleaner said. “I nearly got toasted.”

“You’re kidding right?”

The cleaner shook his head.

“I saw that DI at JO JO’s you know. Perhaps I should call him in?”

“Go and get him,” Gerry said gruffly. “He may shed some light on what happened.

The DI and his friends had just left the cafe when Lisa came running up.

“We need your help at the club,” she panted.

“Hop in,” the DI said smartly.

After the short drive, they entered the club and spoke directly to the cleaner and his boss. After finishing his account, the DI stared at Charly.

“You want me to explain that?”

“We sure do,” Percy said. “It’s right up your street.”

“At least we know that the cause may not be as dangerous as first supposed.”

“Has this happened before then?” Lisa asked.

“There was a fire at the academy,” Nixon explained.

“Same kind?” the cleaner asked.

“Not quite,” Charly said. “The place was gutted. “The only connection is that no one was hurt.”

“Except our nerves,” Gerry said in protest.

“I think it’s benign you know.”

“Fire is never benign Charly.”

“Look Nixon. When a guy is surrounded by fire and is not touched by it, that’s pretty benign for me.”

The DI was about to reply when Gerry spotted something circling the dark blue ceiling.

“What in heaven is that?”

As everyone looked, they saw a large ball of red and orange light circling above their heads. As it moved, a short vapour trail followed.

“That is not from around here,” Lisa concluded.

“Whatever is it?” Percy asked.

Charly stared and his agile mind homed in on the only possible explanation.

“It’s a fire sprite.”

Everyone just stared at the short sentence.

“What’s one of those?” Gerry whispered.

“A frequently seen natural spirit,” Charly said. “It’s trying to warn us.”

“Warn us of what?” the exasperated DI asked.

Charly lowered his eyes and spoke in a slow and funeral tone.

“Impending catastrophe my friend.”

The sprite suddenly faded and Charly shook his head.

“Come on you two, we have to follow it.”

They dashed for the door and outside, Charly pointed.

“It’s heading that way.”

“Seems to be in the direction of the station,” the alarmed sergeant said.

The car set off at high speed and as they reached the rail station, a thick black column of smoke rose into the air.

“We are too damn late!” Nixon shouted. “So much for your theory.”

The car lurched to a halt as the fire brigade arrived on the scene.

As the officers reached the track, they spotted flames pouring from the newsagent.

“I hope no one was in there,” Charly hissed as they raced toward it.

The baffled owner was standing outside as they reached his position.

“What happened?” the DI asked.

“I was unpacking the papers when they simply ignited. I don’t understand it.”

“No one else in there?”

The owner shook his head.

“I hadn’t opened, thank God.”

Charly glared at the DI as the firemen moved them away to tackle the blaze.

“My theory still holds mate. Now where has it gone now?”

They raced to the trackside and scanned the morning sky. High above, the sprite circled before diving earthwards.

“It seems to have reached its destination,” the sergeant said softly.

There is nothing over there apart from the waste site,” the DI muttered.

“We had better go there then,” Charly suggested.

They raced back to the car and set off to see what was up.

Foxley waste management had been in business for fifteen years, and had the reputation for safety. Its main function was to recycle farm waste and filter out the resulting odours. On this morning, the great vats of filth were happily mixing the terribly noxious liquid.

As they approached, the overwhelming odour of animal waste hit them like a brick wall.

“It would be here,” Percy said holding his nose.

The car drew up outside the main office, startling the manager no end.

“I did not call the police,” he said as he met them outside.

The DI thought frantically. Quite an accomplishment for this chap.

“We believe there may be a threat to this place. We got a call.”

The manager laughed.

“We aren’t a government concern. Who would do such a thing but a prankster?”

This line of argument silenced the DI but not Charly. His own mind was whirling like a well-oiled machine.

“Is animal waste your only supply?”

“It’s all we take mate,” the manager told him.

“Then I have the explanation.”

“Out with it then,” the DI demanded.

Charly turned on him.

“Animal waste creates vast quantities of methane gas. You know what they say don’t you?”

The DI looked sheepish.

“Don’t light a match.”

“Right mate. If this place went up it would take Foxley with it.”

The manager quickly quashed such dangerous talk.

“We have filter pipes that prevent such a disaster mate. They extract the gas and pump it into underground vats.”

“You have a feedback prevention system?” Charly asked.

“State of the art mate. We thought of everything.”

“Are the valves automatic then?” Charly persisted.

“Only the main one. The secondary system is opened manually.”

“What would happen if it remained closed?” Charly asked.

“Why then...”

His voice trailed off as Charly grabbed his shoulders. Shaking him madly he yelled, “Where is this valve?”

The manager was shaking as he pointed to the north platform. As they raced towards it he shouted, “Clive is over there!”

As Charly reached the platform, he gazed up at the mesh of metal. He bounded up the steps towards a platform and saw Clive lying upon it clutching at his chest.

“I’m having a heart attack,” the man groaned. “Tried to yell but too weak.”

As the officers arrived, he turned and yelled, “Get a ruddy ambulance here on the double.”

“What about the valve?” the DI asked.

Charly glanced up at the metal wheel.

“The damn thing is closed.”

To the right of the wheel, the pressure gauge was just entering the proverbial red zone. Charly grabbed the wheel and turned with all his might. As the wheel twisted, a loud hissing filled the morning air as the pressure began to fall.

The pain stricken worker suddenly tapped his leg.

“That’s enough now mate. I thought we had had it.”

The DI tapped Charly on his bony shoulder.

“Not with him around. Eh Charly?”

Thankfully, Clive’s attack was not too severe. Half an hour later, the ambulance took him away. As he was dropped off at home, the DI shook his cold hand.

“Thanks to you we saved the town.”

Charly smiled then turned grim.

“Don’t count your chickens yet Nixon. What I said earlier still stands. Something far worse is coming our way.”

The DI shook his head.

“You really love ruining my day. Don’t you.”

Charly watched them drive off and entered the block slowly. He inserted the key and stepped inside the short hall.

From the lounge, Christine meowed loudly and Charly screwed his eyes.
The whine was familiar. Usually reserved for known guests.

“Whoever’s here? I have the only key.”

He crept toward the lounge door and bravely stepped inside.

“Hello Charly. Can I have my poncho back?”

Charly stared in utter shock and whispered an old name.

"Grant."

His eyes rolled into his head and he promptly fainted.

Foxley’s academy of medicine was a well-respected institution that turned out top class surgeons. One of the lecturers always attracted the most students. Whether this was because of his spiky hair, his garish clothes, or his forward thinking ideas, was a mute point.
As he stood before the dissection table, he pointed out to the packed auditorium the small generator.

“Since its discovery, electricity has been used to stimulate growth in damaged flesh, to restart hearts and I should add, to execute felons. What I intend to demonstrate today is the next step. To restore life where there is none.”

As the students gasped, Doctor Yardley pulled back the red sheet and exposed the cold corpse to their curious eyes.

“As you can clearly see, I have attached electrodes to the base of his brain. When I switch the current on this happens.”

He smiled and turning to the generator, punched the button. The students watched as the corpse shook momentarily before starting to sit up. The cheerful doctor stepped aside as the corpse seemingly returned to life.

“This display has one drawback however. Despite the seeming restoration of life, when I cut the voltage thus...”

The body sank back against the table and lay still once more.

“As you can see for yourselves, life is forthwith removed.”

The bell rang then and the doctor drew the sheet back over the cold corpse. He had dreamt of this moment for ten years now and was rightly satisfied at the astonished reaction.

Later that afternoon, he decided to advance to the final stage.
After his final demonstration that day, he popped into the surgical department and accosted his good friend, Doctor Miller.

“I heard of your demo by the way. Quite ungodly you know.”

The lecturer smiled.

“It had the desired effect.”

“I bet it did. What can I do for you by the way?”

The lecturer coughed.

“To reach my obvious conclusion, I need micro generators inserted into the brain stem, below the heart and another inserted into the lower abdominal cavity.”

“Whatever for man?”

“To keep my specimen alive my friend.”

The good surgeon guffawed.

“If I did not know you Yardley, I would send you packing.”

“Will you carry out the surgery for me?”

“On one condition.”

“Just name it.”

“If your experiment succeeds, I want at least some of the credit.”
Yardley smiled.

“I would be honoured to do that for you.”

As twenty-one hours came, the corpse lay upon the table as the surgeon inserted the micro generators. Designed by Yardley, they were similar in shape to heart pacemakers. The only difference was the level of voltage applied.

After the stitches had been applied, the surgeon stepped back with satisfaction.

“What time is it?”

Doctor Yardley gazed at the wall clock.

“Just gone three sir.”

“Six damn hours. This had better work you know.”

“Within minutes we will both find out.”

As they watched in fascination, the corpse began to tremble and the fingers to curl and relax.

“It’s starting,” Yardley exclaimed.”

“It certainly appears to be,” the surgeon said.

The eyes opened and the body sat up. As it looked around, Yardley beamed with delight.

“It works Miller. The damn thing works!”

They stepped back as the body stood upon its on legs, swaying just a little.

“He is trying to maintain balance,” the surgeon pointed out.

The smooth face suddenly animated and a cruel look crossed his brown eyes. He took a step forward and firm hands took the surgeon by the soft throat.

“What are you doing?” Yardley yelled. “Let him go now.”

An arm swept him aside as the surgeon’s throat was crushed. Dropping the lifeless body, the body lurched for the fire door and forced it open. As the lecturer watched in mounting horror, his creation stepped into the dark night.

“What the hell have I done?”

He started pulling his hair roughly, as a deep panic set in. He ran to the phone and dialled the emergency number.

“Police? This is Doctor Yardley. I have to report a murder. Yes I’ll remain here.”

He put the phone down and waited for the authorities to arrive.

When DI Nixon and Sergeant Percy arrived with the medic, the lecturer was still clearly in shock. He was sitting quietly, staring at his shoes.

The medic examined the body and muttered, “Crushed oesophagus. He certainly did not do this. He is not strong enough.”

“So what happened Doctor Yardley?”

The defeated man gazed up sadly.

“It was my fault you see. I persuaded him to insert the micro generators.”

“Can you explain what you are talking about?” the sergeant asked.

“I discovered a way to restore life to the dead. That is what we were doing tonight. Then the body simply throttled him.”

The shocked DI could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“Where did it go to?”

The lecturer pointed to the open fire door.

“Good grief.”

“You have to stop it killing again. You have to protect me.”

The sergeant took his arm and led him out as the DI stopped him.

“What does he look like?”

“He’s tall, has grey hair and is stark naked.”

“That should be good enough. Take him to the station sergeant and read him his rights eh? I may place charges yet.”

As soon as they were gone, he turned to the medic.

“Is such a thing possible doc?”

“If he says it is. I certainly could not accomplish that.”

The DI radioed for backup and the search got underway.

Elsewhere that night, the body had wandered into the rear garden of a newly married couple. Ignoring the washing line, he hammered upon the rear door until the irate householder threw it open.

He stood with open mouth at the unnatural apparition before the monster throttled him. Stumbling inside, he made his way through the kitchen and to the base of the short staircase. From the upper floor, a voice called out.

“Is that you David?”

When there was no response, she pulled on the nightdress and stepped out to investigate. She found herself confronted by the naked man and screamed in terror. Before a few seconds had elapsed, she too lay dead upon the carpeted floor.

The creature stumbled down stairs before lurching off once more to far safer climes.

When daylight finally arrived, the search had turned up nothing. The DI was about to call it a day, when the bad news came through.

When he arrived at the shattered home, even he was sickened by the killings.

“It’s the same MO,” the doc commented.

The forensic officer pointed to the grass.

“There are footprints everywhere sir. He apparently made no attempt to conceal them.”

“What was the point of killing them?” the sergeant asked.

“Only he understands that Percy,” the DI replied. “The question is where has he gone too?”

“No luck with your search then?” the doc asked.

The DI shook his head.

“Not a squeak.”

Turning to Percy he said, “You had better call in the armed units. We have to prepare for anything.”

As the call was made the doctor said, “You would think that a naked man would be easy to find.”

“That is what puzzles me doc. There were clothes upon that line but as far as I can tell, they were not disturbed.”

“Perhaps he has gone to ground?” the sergeant suggested.

“Or being protected?” the medic suggested.

“Who would protect such a monster?” the DI said.

“Perhaps someone who was blind?” Percy replied.

The DI gave him a harsh look.

“You my boy have been watching too many horror movies!”

As the authorities pondered their next move, the body crept out of the hedge where he had been sleeping. Ravenous but feeling no cold, he spied the nearby field and the happily feeding cattle.

Grunting loudly, he lurched forward and approached the innocent animals. The docile creatures did not try to run, as he manhandled one of their number to the ground. After twisting its head severely, he bared his teeth and sank his mouth into the soft underbelly.
The farmer had been working upon the tractor when he heard the anguished cries. He looked across the field and saw the figure kneeling over the stricken animal.

“You bastard.”

He ran towards his home and brought out the double-barrelled shotgun. Ensuring it was loaded, he ran at the feeding fiend.

“Get off my ruddy land!”

The body stopped eating the bloody entrails and stood to face his antagonist. The farmer stopped dead with real shock, as the creature advanced.

“Get away now!”

He fired wildly as strong arms tore the weapon from his grip.
Tossing it away, he smashed the farmer’s jaw before lifting him into the air. Raising a knee, he broke the man’s spine before dropping him onto the bloodied grass. Then he surveyed his evil work before resuming his bloody meal.

As eighteen hundred hours arrived, Charly was listening to the radio when the local reporter came on air. What the listeners did not know of course, was that the lawyer had managed to free her just weeks earlier.

“Today I am reporting from Baker Farm, the latest scene of murder to strike our happy town. I can report that the farmer was the intended victim, and that DI Nixon is determined to catch the perpetrator.”

Charly turned the radio off in disgust. Turning to the cat he moaned, “It looks as if I’m still out of the loop sweetheart. I’ll try phoning him eh?”

He was relieved when the DI answered.

“I heard that report Nixon. Whatever is going on?”

He listened to the astonishing reply.

“Have you been drinking?”

He heard the DI’s cursed response to that.

“It all sounds rather crazy to me mate. Despite the recent horrors.
Would you mind if I spoke to this Doctor Yardley?”

He waited with baited breath.

“Okay, I’m on my way. See you in fifteen eh?”

As he entered the station, the DI took him to one side.

“Traffic followed you yesterday and noted the loose exhaust mate. Try and get it fixed before they book you.”

Charly smiled.

“Where is your doc?”

“He’s in the cells.”

“You intend to charge him then?”

“It’ll have to be involuntary manslaughter if I do. Follow me.”

Within a cramped cell, the doctor sat gloomily as Charly was shown in.

“This gent needs to ask a few questions.”

The doctor looked at him.

“What do you need to know?”

Charly sat beside him as the sergeant joined them.

“Who taught the corpse to walk, may I ask?”

The question confused the lecturer.

“I don’t quite understand.”

“How long has he been dead would you say?”

“Approximately a week.”

“A week you say. Yet he still managed to get off that table and throttle the surgeon.”

“Walking is instinctive. Once learnt that’s it.”

“Even after a week of death?”

“Especially.”

Charly thought for a moment.

“Have you been told about the farm?”

The lecturer nodded.

“How do you account for that?”

“His animal instinct is in the ascendance. Something that I obviously overlooked.”

“Obviously,” Charly echoed. “So where do you think he’ll head for next?”

“That really depends on his needs. He must have been out all night so heat won’t be one of them.”

“Which leaves one possibility.”

The DI gazed at him.

“What are you getting at Charly?”

“He’ll try and find the one man who perhaps cares.”

“That would be me,” the lecturer said. “He’ll come here.”

“My thoughts precisely.”

“We had better be ready for him,” the DI said smartly. “You had better go home Charly. It would be far safer.”

The civilian shook his head.

“I would prefer to stay in here. Could I have a baton? Just in case.”

The DI nodded.

As the hours passed it seemed as though Charly’s theory was out of kilter with reality. As twenty-two hours arrived, the front doors were ripped from their hinges.

As the body lurched in, the desk sergeant hit the general alarm just before he was hauled over the chest high desk. The body threw him against the near wall and headed for the cells. At the entrance to the corridor, the DI met him.

The brave officer tried to punch the creature but the blow was easily deflected. Heavy hands swept him aside as other officers joined in the fray.

Within the cramped cell, Charly and Yardley heard the commotion and knew that time was running out. As bodies were tossed aside, the body reached the cell door. A naked foot smashed the heavy metal until it gave out at last.

In a final desperate act, the good doctor threw himself at his own creation.

“You must stop this.”

The creature regarded him for a second before twisting his head from the poor man’s shoulders. As the body dropped, Charly struck out with the police weapon.

The baton landed squarely upon the forehead of the assailant who suddenly lurched back into the corridor. As he did so, shots rang out and the bullet-ridden monster toppled over completely.

A moment later, Percy’s head poked around the corner.

“At least you are alright mate.”

“What’s the result?”

The sergeant looked grim.

“Three dead out here and the DI is a bit dazed.”

“It could have worse I suppose,” Charly muttered.

“Wasn’t that enough?” Percy asked.

“For now sergeant. You know how my mind works by now I hope. I have a dark suspicion that something far more deadly is brewing under our very noses.”

He left the cell slowly as the DI picked himself from the floor.

“You seem to be alright,” Charly muttered.

“Is it over at last?”

“For now Nixon. Only for now.”

With that puzzling remark, Charly headed toward the car park and his clapped out mini.

Ta...

By the time he reached the waiting panda car, the officers had caught up with him.

“What do you mean something else has arrived?” the DI asked.

Charly whirled around.

“What do you think caused that bloodcurdling sound eh? A fox perhaps?”

“I would rather not say.”

Charly climbed into the rear and the officers slid into the front seats.

“So what are we going to do about it?” Sergeant Percy asked.

Charly shook his weary head.

“Nothing for tonight. We are all tired and in need of a good night’s sleep.”

“That is not good enough,” the DI countered.

Snatching up the radio, he contacted despatch.

“Issue an urgent APB to all units. Be on the lookout for a large escaped wolf. Armed response units are to shoot on sight.”

“Satisfied now?” Charly asked. “It’s obvious that you know nothing about werewolves.”

As he entered the flat that terrible night, the cat bounded towards him. Knelling to meet her, he said quietly, “I just hope Christine that the DI remembers to cement that rosary to that stone eh? Well, I better close the window.”

As he did so, the terrible howl drifted across the town.

The following morning, a weary Charly climbed the steps to the station. He was quickly shown to the interview room where the officers joined him. He quickly noted that the DI was smiling.

“You seem to have cheered up.”

“I have every right to be. There were no attacks last night.”

“It would seem Nixon, that we have been lucky.”

“I want our luck to hold. What do you know about werewolves?”

“The first transmutation takes place at the full moon but after that they occur every night fall. They can be stopped by silver bullets, unlike vampires of course.”

He paused for effect.

“Did you have the cement job done?”

“It’s underway, though I had a hell of a lot of explaining to do.”

“Then on that score we can all rest soundly in our beds.”

“Are you sure only silver works?” the sergeant asked.

“Positive mate.”

“Well, I can hardly get hold of that,” the DI complained. “It would raise far too many eyebrows.”

“Are there any strangers in town?”

“None that I know of.”

“I see. Well Nixon, I need to buy another rosary. So if there is naught else.”

“You can go. I’ll have patrols again tonight. If any wolf is spotted we will have him.”

“I really hope so,” Charly said as he headed for the door.

He wandered into the busy street and climbed inside the old mini. Driving into Market Street, he wandered into the Christian shop to replace the rosary. As he left, he spotted the local headline outside the newsagent. Crossing the road carefully, he read it slowly.

“I had better visit the theatre then.”

The theatre sat quietly on the street of the same name. As he stared at the wallboard, he read some interesting details. The latest play was due to start that night. A little ditty called Dashed Love, its key actor was a little known chap called Derek Maynard. Thinking this over quickly, Charly hurried home and set about connecting to the internet.

As the cat watched, he trawled the net until the actor’s name popped up.

“I see his last twelve performances were in Europe. That should be easy enough to check.”

He rang the DI and said, “I need you to contact Interpol and find out if any wolf attacks have been reported in the following areas.”

He reeled off the names and waited.

“They are connected to Derek Maynard mate. How long will that take?”

He paused.

“All day? That is really not good enough. Can’t they go a bit quicker? This bloke is at our theatre you know.”

He listened as the flustered DI gave an appropriate excuse.

“Look Nixon, we only have to hold him until sunset. If nothing happens you can release him.”

When there was a negative reply, Charly made an illegal suggestion.

“Try planting pot on him then.”

The DI’s reply was unprintable. Charly disconnected and stared at the loving cat.

“It seems that the DI is rather reluctant dear. I wonder why?”

That night, Greame sat quietly beneath the old bridge that dated back to the second German war. He had been homeless now for ten years and had somehow got used to it. As he drank from his whisky bottle, the howl drifted through the night air.

“There she goes again,” he slurred. “The goddess calling to her children.”

He took another slug and settled back upon his sheets of paper to sleep. He heard a loud growl and opened his eyes to check.

“No worries, probably some lost dog.”

He lay flat and slept as the brown creature eyed him from the near distance. When it was sure that there was no risk, it struck savagely.

The homeless man would never wake up again.

The panda car hurtled into Bridge Lane at high speed. The siren waking those who slept inside their rather posh homes. As it approached the old iron bridge, it drew to a halt and the two officers leapt out.

Nixon saw the early morning jogger sitting upon the bank being comforted by the constable.

“What have we got here?”

“Some bloke sir, torn to shreds. The doc is there now.”

The DI clambered onto the bank and walked toward the bridge where the medic was waiting for him. Gazing down at the blood and dismembered body, the medic was not a happy chap.

“He didn’t stand a chance,” he complained. “It’s the worst case of animal attack that I have ever seen.”

“What type are you indicating,” the sergeant asked carefully.

“A wolf probably. Must be the same one you reported. We don’t have wolves here.”

“You are probably right doc,” the DI said. “Was it a large wolf by any chance?”

“Full grown mate. No puppy did this level of damage. There is another problem of course.”

“Another one?” the sergeant asked.

“Now that it has tasted human flesh, it will strike again.”

The DI took the sergeant aside.

“We should talk to Derek about this. Come along. I’ll read your report later doc.”

The actor was sitting in his makeup room when the officers were shown in. The DI was rather surprised by his short stature; leading men were usually quite tall.

“Can I help?”

“We seem to have a problem sir,” the DI said slowly. “I was wondering, where did you stay last night?”

The actor smiled back serenely.

“Here my boy. Your are pretty lucky to have a theatre which can put up the troop. The kind of digs that I’ve been forced to sleep in would truly shock you.”

“You were there all night sir?” Percy asked.

“All night sergeant. What is this about? I am rather busy right now.”

“It’s the missing wolf sir,” the DI said. “I was hoping for a positive sighting.”

“Oh I see. Thankfully, I stayed in. Wolves frighten me to the core.”

“They seem to follow you around don’t they?” Percy asked.

“What do you mean by that?” Derek asked.

The DI smiled.

“It appears that whilst in Europe wolf attacks followed your performances.”

“I was not aware of that sir. Have you been checking up on me?”

“We check up on everyone sir,” the DI replied.

Charly had been expecting the visit ever since the television news confirmed the wolf attack. As the officers entered his flat, he said rather impatiently.

“Well?”

The DI shook his head sadly.

“That actor is out of the loop, despite what Interpol told us.”

“So there was a link?”

“Quite a strong one too,” the sergeant confirmed.

“He must be involved,” Charly insisted.

“He was staying at the theatre,” the DI said. “Perhaps we are really dealing with an escaped wolf after all.”

“I can’t buy that rubbish. You heard that howl. No wolf sounds like that mate.”

“There is not a lot I can do Charly,” the DI said flatly. “What we need is an eyewitness.”

“That is the problem Nixon. The only witness you are likely to get is a dead one.”

As they left, the sergeant noted the new rosary hanging over the kitchen door.

“Bought another one then.”

Charly nodded.

“That won’t stop it. At least I’m sure it won’t climb stairs.”
He closed the door and shrugged his thin shoulders wearily.

Constable Wilkens was a fairly new officer, only having joined three years previously. Tonight, he had been deployed in Tressle Street. A rather strange location to be sure.

As he passed the swimming baths, the cold full moon stared down upon him.

“It’s damn cold,” he complained. “Just another couple of hours to go now.”

He suddenly felt the call of nature and looked around for a convenient location.

“Oh that corner will do.”

He scampered over to the ‘V’ shaped corner of the baths and took his member out. As he passed water, a loud growling gave him a rather nasty surprise.

As he glanced back, he saw a large brown wolf watching him earnestly.

“Oh tripe! Now calm down mate.”

As the predator snarled, he reached slowly for his radio. He was just about to connect when the animal struck hard. Two great paws smashed him to the ground and the fierce snout ripped at his face and throat. As the teeth tore the naked flesh, the officer groaned his last.

With the prey quite dead, the wolf settled down to feed at last as the town slept behind bolted doors. It snarled and whimpered as it tore off the chunks of flesh, before swallowing easily. It managed to avoid the choking uniform; its teeth simply tore it aside.
Only the sudden crackle of the radio persuaded it to flee.

Charly had woken at nine, and both he and the cat were enjoying their mutual breakfasts. As usual, the television was on, blaring away towards the news.

When the female reporter appeared, Charly nearly choked.

“The young constable was attacked late last night by what the police say is an escaped wolf. The DI has announced that armed patrols will be stepped up and urged everyone to watch their guard and report any unusual activity.”

After making that broadcast, the reporter walked over to the cameraman.

“I would love to catch that beast on film you know. It would be one hell of an exclusive.”

“Where do you reckon its hiding then?”

The reporter smiled.

“Where wolves usually hide Trafford. The damn woods.”

Her next stop was the local library where she read up on the habits of wolves. As a dedicated professional, she was a single-minded individual with one objective.

To be a success.

As darkness descended that night, she and the cameraman were sitting in his car, just beyond the trees. The moon hung overhead as the cold intensified.

“Let’s just hope our quarry has fed eh? You got the night vision activated?”

“What kind of cameraman would I be if I forgot that?”

She smiled back, gazing toward the woods.

“As long as it’s a female it might just leave us alone.”

“What if it’s a male?”

The reporter glanced at him.

“Then it's diner time.”

A movement caught her attention and she pointed calmly. The cameraman zeroed in as a dark shape approached from the town.

“I’ve got it,” he whispered.

“Just don’t lose it mate. Whoever would have thought eh? A wolf in our area.”

The animal knew that it was being filmed. It approached slowly and watched the activity. After another moment, it moved closer until the cameraman got the perfect, side on image.

“This is gorgeous,” he whispered. “Reminds me of Africa.”

The reporter laughed.

“You have never been there.”

He was about to reply when powerful paws leapt upon the window.

“Crikey!”

The snarling killer scratched savagely as the camera whirred, white foam spewing from its lethal jaws.

“I’ve got it!” the cameramen screamed as the reporter gunned the engine.

The wolf refused to follow, simply gazing at the retreating vehicle. It pricked up its ears as a fox darted across the field. Seconds later, it set off in hot pursuit. It finally caught up with the unfortunate animal and tore it to shreds.

The following morning, the DI sat in his office as an officer poked his head inside.

“You had better see this sir.”

“Curious, he entered the room and saw the news cast.”

“That’s the woman who gave us so much trouble,” Percy reminded him.

“Late last night, our intrepid reporter caught this astonishing footage of the Foxley wolf.”

The DI watched the sequence and winced.

“What an irresponsible thing to do. We don’t want a panic.”

He grabbed Percy and hauled him toward the car park.

“I’m going to arrest that ***** for obstruction,” he hissed.

“You may consider seizing the tape too,” Percy added.

“A little late for that sergeant. Put your foot down eh?”

The television station was located at the north side of town and when they arrived, both officers stormed in.

“We need Helen here right now.”

When she arrived, smiling as usual, she got the shock of her life.

“What the hell do you think that you are doing?”

“Calm down Nixon, you are making a scene.

“I don’t care. What a crazy thing to do.”

“It was worth it.”

He grabbed her padded shoulders.

“Causing a panic? Putting yourself at risk? You're under arrest.”

“For what? Telling the truth?”

“Obstruction. Now move it!”

As she was marched toward the door, she shouted to the startled receptionist, “Get me the lawyer.”

Charly had seen the broadcast too. He dressed quickly and took the mini toward the waiting theatre. Ignoring protests, he stormed into the makeup room.

“Who the hell are you?” Derek demanded.

“I know exactly what you are mate. If I were you I’d leave right now!”

“Have you gone mad? Get your arse out of here now!”

Charly was about to attack him when two bodyguards dragged him outside. Charly screamed in protest.

“He’s the killer. You must listen to me!”

When they threw him onto the pavement, he leapt inside the car and drove off home.

Within an hour his door was rapped. Still annoyed he threw it open.

“Oh it’s you Nixon. What can I do for you now?”

“A rather upset actor has made a formal complaint about you. Said you nearly attacked him.”

Charly smiled.

“Two oafs dragged me outside.”

“You just cannot do that sort of thing Charly. Did you see the footage?”

“That is what incensed me.”

“It looked like a normal wolf to me mate.”

“Looks can deceive you know,” Charly retorted.

The DI shook his head.

“You really leave me no choice now. Stay away from him and allow us to handle this case. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to arrest you.”

Charly looked shocked.

“After all I have done?”

“If we need you, I’ll call. It’s for your own good you know.”

Charly slammed the door and stormed into the lounge.

“If they want to keep me out of the loop so be it. Come on Christine, let’s play with the ball.”

The cat gazed up and meowed happily.

That grim night, three young men were staggering along Perky Road after a rather good night at Coopers. At this time of course, the road was particularly quiet. Only a soft growl disturbed the still
night air.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what matey?”

“You must be more gone than you think.”

“I tell you I heard a growl.”

“Your imagination. I don’t believe those wolf stories either.”

The animal emerged from behind a parked car and stopped in their path.

“Gracious me.”

“That’s a ruddy wolf mate.”

“It’s only the drink I tell you.”

“It ain’t that strong.”

The animal growled and sprang forward. The drunks had no chance of course. Even had they been sober, the power of the wolf would surely have overwhelmed them.

The latest killing had placed the DI in a rather tight spot. As he sat in his office the following morning, the phone rang.

“That could be the chief super sir.”

Nixon snatched it up and nodded.

“We are doing all we can sir. Armed patrols have been increased but we simply can’t tie it down.”

He heard the gruff response and winced.

“I’ll need your authority sir to clear the streets then. That is the only thing that’ll work.”

He groaned and put the phone down.

“How did it go sir?”

“He wants the animal hunted down Percy. If not, I’m to be replaced.”

“It’s not your fault sir.”

“That’s nice. I would love to get my hands upon the wolf’s former owner. I would ring his bloody neck.”

“I could help you there sir.”

To their surprise, the phone rang again. On this occasion, it was the desk sergeant. After listening, the DI glanced at Percy.

“It seems that Derek has gone missing sergeant. Come on, we have to tread the boards again.”

When they arrived the theatre manager was in a right old state.

“Without him, the production is ruined.”

“Don’t you have a second?” Percy asked.

“Of course we do, but the public pay to see Mr Maynard.”

“Any idea where he could have got to?” the DI asked.

“No idea. If I knew that sir I would have fetched him myself.”

“We will need access to his room,” the DI said.

They were led toward the rear and up a short flight of steps.

“The troop sleep upon this floor. This is his room.”

After unlocking, the officers entered a small and squalid bedroom. Sheets were strewn across the floor, and a note lay upon the exposed bed. The DI picked it up and read the contents.

“Damn fool!”

Without explanation, he dashed back to the car with the sergeant in close attendance.

“Where to sir?”

“The church my boy. We may just be in time.”

It took fifteen minutes to reach the cemetery where the stone built church was located. Racing inside, the DI headed for the Norman tower. The worn steps were a little slippery as they climbed to the top of the bell tower. When they at last reached it, the DI winced.

“What a waste of life.”

They stared at the hanging man, the noose connected to the supporting bar.

“Was it remorse or did Charly drive him to it?” the sergeant asked.

The DI shook his head.

“That’s something I really don’t want to answer Percy. Go ahead, cut Derek down.”

As a writer, Marc had always been fascinated by the life of Bram Stoker. So much so in fact, that for the previous ten years he had thoroughly researched it.

Marc was a tall individual, though he disliked the increasingly greying hair. As he stood at the door of the old cottage in south town, he noted the almost faded notice overhead.

Bram Stoker stayed here.

Smiling ruefully, he knocked and the owner appeared almost at once.

“You got my call.”

The gent was a retired teacher of fifty and greeted him warmly.

“I was wondering if you would show up mate. The room is ready for you.”

The sitting room still showed the dark wooden beams of old, as he was led toward the rear.

“This is the room that Bram stayed in,” the owner said proudly. “You are the first to visit in five years.”

This sad news stunned Marc of course.

“No one knows about this?”

“In Foxley you mean? Afraid not. I was surprised when you called.”

Marc entered the small room, dominated as it was by the single bed.

“Do you know the story behind his coming?” Marc asked putting his travel bag down.

“He wanted to visit that tomb as I understand it.”

“That is correct,” the writer replied. “I was hoping to visit it myself.”

“Unlike some cemeteries, ours is open all night. Have some soup first though.”

Marc accepted the offer with kindness and as he ate, he pondered the coming experience.

Finding the cemetery that night was no problem. The old graves were located at the south side, whilst the modern section had been added to the north wing. Not far from the open gates, stood a flat stone that was enclosed by metal railings. When Marc reached it, he shivered at once.

“I wonder what secrets you hold?” he muttered.

He looked around at the sad vista and crept behind a headstone worn smooth with age. As the minutes passed he waited with baited breath.

“Nothing seems to be happening,” he moaned. “I wonder why not?”

He crept forward and gazed upon the old stone.

“Oh I see. Well, I’ll just have to remove it that’s all.”

He noted that the bars were widely spaced and just about managed to squeeze through. He knelt as you do and tried to prize the small silver crucifix out of its proper location. After a few minutes of this, it finally broke free.

“That should do the trick,” he whispered.

It did more than that of course. Before he could stand, a dark shape appeared before his startled eyes. Blood red eyes regarded him for a moment before powerful arms hauled his throat into the waiting jaws.

For the writer, his search for the truth was over at last.

As the sun rose, the gardener arrived as usual to tend the cemetery lawn. A rather sprightly gent, he enjoyed tending the old graves, something he had carried out for twenty years now. As he approached the old tomb, he stopped. At first, he could not work out what was wrong. Then he saw the crumpled body within the old enclosure.

“I had better get the police.”

“Morning doc,” Nixon said happily. “What have you got for us today I wonder?”

The doc regarded this kind of humour with disdain.

“The forensic boys had to lift him out of the enclosure for me. His throat was torn open by some kind of animal I would say.”

“He was actually inside?” Sergeant Percy asked.

“That is the peculiar thing,” the medic said. “Perhaps the animal was chasing him.”

“What kind of animal are we talking about?” the DI asked.

“Judging by the bite radius a small dog would fit the bill.”

“I’ll read your report later doc,” the DI said.

As they were about to leave the scene, Percy tripped over a clod of grass and saw the old crucifix.

“Damn silly thing,” he muttered before tossing it away.

As night fell, Sheela stretched out upon her bed, gazing out of the open window. Being on the top floor did have its benefits. No peeping toms.

“I just hope to get some sleep,” she muttered. “Eight hours typing is no ruddy joke.”

She stripped her clothes off lazily and was in the process of removing her socks when a dark shape flitted into the room. Sheela heard the flapping wings and looked up at once.

“That’s all I need, a bat.”

She picked up the top as the black creature flew around the room.

“I’ll soon get you out mate. Shoo!”

The animal ignored her as it flew toward the floor. She raced to intercept when a tall, dark figure rose and cackled loudly. No one heard the scream that signalled yet another victim.

“So who found her,” the DI asked as he pondered the scene.

“A friend sir,” the sergeant replied.

The DI gazed at the still body and the bloody sheets upon the bed.
The terrible gash upon her throat was blatantly obvious.

“Don’t try and blame the dog again,” the DI said as the medic entered the bedroom.

He examined the body carefully and shook his head.

“Exactly the same as the other fellow,” he commented. “Did you read that report?”

The DI nodded.

“Total blood loss you said. If that had been true, the grave would be swimming in the stuff.”

“You obviously missed the bottom bit then,” the medic said.

“About it being removed you mean?” sergeant Percy asked.

“That is what I wrote. As for the dog bit. This confirms it I’m afraid.”

“No animal could have broken in here,” the DI protested.

“I tend to agree sir, and that is why I changed my mind.”

“So what are we dealing with?”

The medic stood up.

“I concluded that the male fell against those rails whilst trying to get to the tomb. That would explain the wound. Soon after an animal, yes a dog, simply licked the flowing blood away.”

“They do that?” Percy asked.

“Of course sergeant,” the medic replied.

“That still leaves her,” the DI reminded him.

“I can’t say what caused the wounds at present. You’ll have to read another report.”

The DI was not too happy with that explanation. When they reached the panda car, he sat inside brooding.

“What’s up boss?”

“I can’t help feeling that the doc is barking up the wrong tree and taking us along with him.”

“Do you think we are dealing with a madman?” Percy asked.

“I’m not so sure of that either sergeant. Take us to Charly will you. Let’s see what he thinks.”

As Charly sat in his cluttered lounge listening to classical music, he heard the door rap with some annoyance. Turning to Christine he muttered, “Sounds like the DI again darling. You would think that he could solve his own cases.”

He allowed them in of course. A natural burning curiosity had guaranteed that.

“So how can I help you today Nixon?”

As they sat upon the sofa, the sergeant pointed to the crucifix that hung over the kitchen door. They had noticed this before but never had the nerve to ask why.

Charly noted the interest and opened up.

“It helps keep my soul safe as well as offering peace of mind.”

“Oh I see,” Percy said.

“We do have a rather unusual case,” the DI said.

“Then tell me all about it.”

When the details were complete Charly asked, “Both victims sustained throat wounds?”

“That’s right,” the sergeant said.

“Who was this writer anyway?”

“He wrote biographies my boy,” the DI said. “He was staying at the old cottage in Southside. We collected his travel bag.”

Charly thought this over for a moment.

“I really don’t like the sound of this you know. I should have a word with the owner.”

“Whatever for?” the sergeant asked.

“Just an idea that I have. Come on then, before it gets dark.”

The retired teacher was still in shock when they arrived at the old cottage. As they sat down, he muttered, “To think, he never got to sleep in the famous room.”

Charly pricked his ears up.

“Your room is famous?”

“My spare room is. The author of ‘Dracula’ stayed there.”

“Was Marc researching him?” Charly asked.

“Who Stoker? I suppose so.”

“Why visit the tomb at night?” the DI asked. “Did he tell you?”

The teacher looked rather shy.

“I would rather not say.”

“It could help you know,” Percy said gently.

“Stoker was here to research the book you see. He must have heard about the old story.”

“What old story?” Charly asked.

“The story about our vampire of course.”

This was a revelation to his guests. Neither of them had even heard of it.

“You better tell us,” Charly suggested.

Around the 1400’s some guy was about to be hanged here for rape. He warned that if this happened, he would return and take revenge. Of course he was executed but soon after people started turning up dead.”

“Drained of blood?” Charly asked.

“Exactly. So the authorities dug him up and rammed a stake through his heart, and reburied him in the cemetery. You see in those days, felons were buried at the crossroads. Of course the vicar had a fit!”

“So after being staked the attacks stopped?” Charly asked.

“They did indeed. To make doubly sure, they attached a silver cross to the stone you see.”

Charly had heard enough and stood to leave.

“I don’t think that we need to disturb this gent any longer Nixon. Thanks for the info.”

As they were leaving the gent asked, “How did Marc die by the way?”
Charly flashed a warning look at the DI.

“A tragic accident sir. He fell upon those railings.”

The teacher nodded.

“Thought as much. I tried to get them removed a year ago but the ruddy council refused. I hope they can’t sleep tonight.”

As they sat inside the car, the DI turned to Charly and asked, “What do you make of that?”

“I know what I think but it will keep for now Nixon. In the meantime, you can take me home. Are the victims still in the morgue?”

“Why do you ask?” the sergeant said.

“Perhaps they should be cremated.”

The two officers glanced at each other before the car headed across town once more.

As the sun went down that night, the creature rose from his infernal rest. With perfect vision, combined with hellish power, he scanned the surrounding area. He had no idea of what the authorities were up to of course, he cared even less.

“This is a strange time,” he muttered. “Strange and virgin. I’ll rule over these mortals yet.”

He spread his arms wide, an action that triggered transmutation. As the bat rose into the night air, its keen hearing picked up the sound of a laughing child. It tracked that sound to its source, eyes watching as the youngster skipped along the path not so far from home and safety.

As she reached the corner, an ominous black shape rose out of nowhere and tore her throat to shreds.

Across the town, dogs howled their protest at the vile act.

When Charly turned on the morning news, he was horrified to learn of the latest death. He grabbed his mobile and barked, “I need to see you both right now!”

The officers arrived promptly and Charly asked for details at once.

“The girl was around twelve,” the DI explained. “Heading home from the club when she was attacked.”

“Same MO?”

“According to the doc yes. As for the woman, her blood loss was total as well.”

“You do know the implications of what you are saying?”

The DI shook his head.

“We still think a madman did these crimes.”

“Not a vampire?” Charly asked.

“So that is why you wanted the bodies burnt,” the sergeant said.

“It does actually work.”

“Apart from the blood loss, what proof is there?” the DI asked helplessly.

“How about proof of your own eyes. You must have seen the damn wounds.”

“They were pretty severe but not vampiric. Two holes over the jugular? They did not look like that.”

Charly could hardly believe it.

“Can you get us into the morgue? I’m sure you have the authority.”

“Whatever for?” the DI asked.

“You want solid proof? I’ll get you some.”

After a call, the DI took the civilian to the local hospital and beyond the restricted zone. Charly was greeted by a friendly young woman of thirty who had replaced her unfortunate predecessor.

“Sorry about this,” the DI said. “It’s part of our ongoing investigation.”

“What do you need?”

“A look at the latest three victims,” Charly said coldly.

The mortician turned to the cold storage trays and pulled open three of them.

“They were pretty damaged,” the woman warned.

Charly looked them over before reaching inside his pocket and pulling out a rosary.

“What on earth are you going to do with that?” she asked.

Charly glanced up.

“Just watch.”

As he placed the holy object upon the hand of each victim, the smell of burning filled the air.

“Well I’ll be damned,” the woman muttered.

“Enough proof Nixon? They have to be cremated soon.”

The officer nodded and led the way out.

“I’ll get a court order today. What else can we do?”

Charly smiled.

“How does setting a trap appeal to you?”

As darkness fell, Charly lay behind an old gravestone, clutching his rosary nervously. Within the other hand, the sharpened stake was ready. The DI and Percy lay beside him, watching the suspected tomb with mounting fear.

“I really hope that you know what you are doing mate,” the DI whispered. “I don’t fancy having my ruddy throat ripped out.”

“Neither do I Nixon. We have no alternative now.”

Charly watched a few moments longer.

“What if he doesn’t show?” Percy asked.

“Don’t worry about that,” Charly assured him. “He won’t be able to stay put.”

A dark shape suddenly appeared within the spiked enclosure and
Charly ran into full view.

“Looking for me chum?”

The malevolent creature hissed as he spotted the arrogant mortal.

“You dare to challenge me weakling? Come to your death then.”

As Charly moved bravely forward, the DI and Percy emerged unarmed.

“A group of fools eh?” the creature hissed. “Never mind, you will pay for it with your lives.”

The creature laughed and transmuted before soaring skywards. As Charly watched, it swung around and dive-bombed the mortals.

As they ducked, it tried again but on that occasion, Charly threw the rosary at the fiend. With a loud hiss, it struck and the bat crashed toward the grass. As Charly raced to the scene, he saw the creature writhing upon the ground, apparently unable to move.

“This is for your innocent victims!”

The stake was plunged deep into the heart of the inhuman monster. As it screamed in utter terror, the police officers arrived.

“It’s over now,” Charly muttered. “Its disintegrating you see.”

They watched silently as the body turned to white ash. A light breeze blew the fragments away.

“We can go now,” the sergeant said at last.

“Hold it a second,” Charly said picking the rosary up. “Hand me the torch.”

The sergeant pulled it from his jacket and handed it over. Switching on, Charly shone the beam upon the bloodied stone.

“The words are just readable.”

“What does it say?” the DI asked.

“Here lyeth the body of Tanworthy and Helda.”

“There are two of them?” the sergeant asked.

“I’m afraid so mate.”

Charly stepped forward and placed the rosary upon the stone. Turning smartly he said simply.

“Make sure that it’s cemented to that stone in the morning Nixon.
Otherwise we will see this again.”

“I’ll make damn sure of it.”

As they headed back towards the waiting car, an unearthly howl rent the cold night air.

“What the hell was that?” the sergeant asked.

Charly stopped dead.

“It seems something else has arrived in Foxley. Now it gets really dangerous.”

The two stunned officers glanced at each other as Charly walked away at high speed.

Six weeks had passed since the shooting and Charly was back at home sleeping peacefully. An unwell man, of medium height, he did have the nasty habit of sticking his nose into police affairs.
It was the loud knocks that woke him up that morning. Loud and repetitive, he opened his eyes and yawned loudly.

“That sounds like the DI. I suppose I’ll have to answer.”

He sat up then rubbed his bleary eyes. Rather confused now, he stared at his surroundings in disbelief.

“This can’t be right,” he muttered.

The modern, two bed flat had gone. He was looking at a small and mingy room that reminded him of a bedsit. To his left stood an old wardrobe and a small open stove.

His first reaction was to shout for his cat, but this time there was no response.

The knocks intensified and he got up rather angrily. Throwing the door open he cursed.

“Where the ruddy hell am I Nixon?”

Then he spotted the tweed jackets and hats and giggled.

“This must be a prank. Who put you up to it?”

The stony-faced DI shook his head.

“I hope you realise that you are late.”

“I don’t remember any appointment Nixon.”

“That’s sir to you Charly. Kindly remember that you are my sergeant.”

Charly spun around open mouthed.

“What do you mean sergeant? I know that I’ve been out of the loop for weeks now but come on mate.”

The DI ignored this and marched over to the wardrobe. Opening the door, he tossed some clothes at the startled man.

“We are needed at the bank Charly. Some idiot shot the manager.”
Charly gazed at the tweed clothes and dressed without any further protest. As they were leaving he muttered, “This had better be a dream.”

When he saw the outside world, he realised that this was cold and cruel reality. The modern town of Foxley had been replaced by the nineteenth century version. Everywhere he looked, the evidence was indisputable. Even the air had changed. It reeked of horse dung and industrial effluent.

“Are you coming or not?” Nixon demanded.

Charly saw the brougham and shrugged his shoulders. As the horses pulled away, he turned and asked carefully, “What year is it?”

The DI gave him a filthy look.

“1857 of course. You been on the booze again?”

“Not exactly sir. It’s just that something is terribly wrong with all this.”

The DI sighed.

“You say that everyday sergeant. Ah here we are.”

They stepped out and walked into the bank. The wooden teller desk was quiet, due to the fact that the building had been closed since the murder. Only a few police officers were on duty.

Inside the rear office, Charly saw the victim. He was a little overweight and slightly balding, though being dead that was no longer a problem.

“Single gunshot wound to the chest,” the DI explained. “Obviously at point blank range.”

“He must have known the killer then,” Charly said looking around the room.

“Any witnesses?”

The DI shook his head.

“He arrived this morning and let himself in. When the staff turned up he was found like this.”

Charly noted the ledgers and took down the latest volume.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Checking the books sir. Just like a good copper should.”

“I wish you luck. I am off to check the victim’s home. If you find anything let me know eh?”

As he left, Charly shook his poor head.

“Whatever is really going on, the DI is right on form.”

He started checking the figures, and began to detect more than a few discrepancies.

“Seems the bank was losing money for a change. Far too many withdrawals for my liking.”

He thought quietly for a moment, adding it up.

“I wonder if the bloke was in debt?”

He closed the book and entered the main room where the officers were standing.

“Where has the DI gone?”

“To Prince Street sir.”

Charly suddenly realised that he had no idea where it was. Trying to bluff his way through he asked, “What number?”

“Twenty-six sir.”

“Ta.”

He flagged down a brougham and ordered the driver to take him to the desired address. As it headed across town, he gazed upon unfamiliar surroundings. As they entered a rather busy road, the coach stopped.

“Are we here?”

“Certainly are sir.”

He climbed out and stared at the run down building as the coach drew off. The number twenty-six was clearly marked and he knocked politely.

“Glad you could make it,” Nixon said happily. Find anything at the bank?”

“Only that they are in the red. The manager must have been using customer’s money to clear his debts.”

“You had better take a look at this then.”

Within a small, dark room sat a large cabinet and the DI opened the drawer.

“I found these.”

Charly gazed inside and noticed the stacks of betting slips. As he glanced through them he muttered, “Seems that I was right.”

“That is what I like about you Charly. Always on the ball, despite being late.”

“So the manager decides to stop payments and the thug turns up at the bank. When it’s clear he won’t pay, he shoots him.”

“That could well be our case,” the DI said. “Open and shut for a change.”

Charly had a thought.

“Do we know any money lenders? Apart from the legal ones.”

“There is Prentice, but he never carries a firearm,” the DI replied. “Then of course there is Harry but he died last year.”

“So what’s the bottom line?” Charly asked.

“That leaves only one suspect. A chap called Tim.”

“I would like to talk to him,” Charly said.

“Then we shall. He runs a den on Strand Road.”

When they arrived by the warehouses Charly felt at home. At least this part of town looked the same to him. A small shack had been constructed to the right, and they found Tim sitting at a small table.

“Good morning Nixon, what a surprise.”

“Still in the lending business?” the DI asked casually.

“Of course. I make a good living.”

“So when did the bank manager open an account?” Charly asked.

Tim laughed.

“Never with me mate. I have my principles to uphold you know. Even if one of those tarts begged for help, I’d walk right by.”

“That’s not like you Tim?” Nixon said.

“Obviously you know little about me Nixon.”

“Where would he go to get a loan?” Charly asked. “You must know another source.”

Tim shook his head.

“I’m the only lender in Foxley my boy. I’d crunch anyone else who tried to cash in on my patch.”

His reply disappointed Charly of course.

“Do you any witnesses for this morning?” the DI asked.

“Just ask Kevin. We were together for most of last night too.”

“Thanks for the help Tim. We may speak to you again.”

As they walked away Tim said,” Any time Nixon, any time.”

The brougham took them back into town, by which time the case looked anything but straightforward.

“What could we be missing,” Nixon asked.

As they entered Market Street, Charly suddenly yelled, “Stop the cab!”

“What’s got into you Charly?”

“Where’s the turf accountant?”

The DI pointed across the road. Before he could be stopped, Charly had leapt from the cab and dashed across the street.

Bursting through the door, he saw the mean looking man staring at him from behind the desk.

“Hello Charly. What’s the rush?”

Charly marched up and grabbed him by the hair before smashing his nose off the desk.

“How much does he owe you?”

He released the frightened man who staggered back with blood flowing from his nose.

“I want him arrested Nixon. That’s assault.”

“I did not see a thing,” the DI said. “How much does he owe you?”

“Around £800.”

“Was that worth killing over?” Charly demanded.

Now the accountant was really frightened.

“I never touched him. Been here all morning.”

“You do use heavies though,” the DI commented.

The accountant nodded.

“They are under strict orders though. No lethal force for obvious reasons.”

“Yes I know,” Charly said slowly. If they kill someone you are an accessory, and join them on the scaffold.”

“That’s right,” the accountant replied.

“So where do the heavies hang out?” Nixon asked.

“Grant’s of course.”

The familiar name came as a terrible shock to Charly.

“You had better be right about this,” the DI said. “Come on Charly. Time to make a few arrests.”

After leaving, they headed for the station. En-route, Charly asked casually, “Why this way?”

“We need some shooters my boy. You don’t think that they will give up quietly do you?”

The station was a lot smaller than Charly remembered. The desk sergeant forced them to sign a ledger before the pistols were issued. Afterwards, the brougham took the two officers across town to what was a rather dingy street.

“Right we are here,” Nixon said. “That building is Grant’s okay. We go in quickly, if you value your life.”

They waited a short time outside the cracked, green door before the DI burst inside. The three heavies were sitting at a table in deep discussion and turned in surprise.

“Don’t anyone move!” Nixon warned.

The three men glanced at each other for a split second, before one of them pulled out a handgun. Charly opened fire at once as his friends dived for cover. A shot rang out and Nixon yelled once before going down hard.

Charly threw himself across the floor, rolling as he fired continuously. The bullets smashed the table and struck the two survivors. When there was no counter shots, Charly ran to the DI.

“God!”

The DI lay quite dead of course, as a single head wound bled profusely. Charly was enraged and ran to the wounded men. As they groaned in deep pain, Charly blew their brains out.

He threw the weapon away and started towards the door. As soon as he stepped outside, he saw the modern world.

“I really can’t take much more of this,” he muttered. “What was all that about?”

He looked back and saw a park where Grant’s used to stand.

“I had better see Nixon about this.”

He ran through the streets until he at last reached the station.
Bounding up the steps, he banged the sergeant’s desk.

“I need to see the DI now! It’s ruddy urgent.”

The DI led him into the interview room where Percy was waiting.

“What’s the panic?” Nixon asked.

“Am I glad to see you two.”

“Just calm down mate,” Percy said. “Have a seat eh?”

As Charly collapsed onto the chair, he poured out his entire experience. When it was finished, he stared at the DI.

“Did that ring any bells?”

“Get the old files Percy. Same date eh?”

When Percy returned with a grey and dusty box, Charly opened it up.
He frantically flicked through until he spotted what he was looking for.

“This is the one.”

He handed it to the DI who read the contents.

“According to this the DI was killed in the shoot out.”

“I was there mate. What happened to his sidekick?”

“Oh I see,” the DI muttered. “He was charged and later hanged for double murder. As you told us, they were shot whilst wounded.”

“I was hoping that the file would explain why this time rift happened to me. Obviously it doesn’t.”

“Wait a moment,” Nixon said. “I think this may answer your question.
The officer was a sergeant Charly Dixon.”

Charly’s eyes opened wide.

“Good grief!”

“You recognise the name?” Percy asked.

“I certainly do. He was an ancestor of mine. I never thought he was on the force though. I only heard his name once.”

“After what he did I’m not surprised Charly,” Nixon said. “Even you have skeletons in the family cupboard.”

“That explains everything,” Charly muttered.

“At least we know one thing now,” the DI said.

“Which is?” Charly asked.

The DI smiled sweetly.

“Why you are such a good copper mate. Pity it’s not official. Now get yourself home eh. Another thing. Have a Grouse eh. After what you have been through, you probably need it.”

Charly nodded and left the room slowly. As he stepped outside, he closed his eyes and breathed in the modern fresh air.

“It’s really good to be back.”

Ep 1

The new mortician was a pretty young female at thirty. She had always desired fiddling around the dead, and now she did it every day. As she washed the metallic slab, the porter pushed in yet another guest.

“Who do we have here?”

“Some guy who got shot. There is a cop outside.”

The mortician thought for a moment.

“You had better let him in. Make sure he knows the drill.”

A moment later DI Nixon entered wearing a white facemask.

“Welcome to my parlour.”

The grim faced DI simply nodded and moved toward the gurney. He pulled back the blood red sheet and stared into the cold face.

“Where did it happen?”

“At the monastery. What a ruddy week. Talk about carnage.”

The mortician glanced at his face.

“Did you know him?”

The officer nodded slowly. He pulled the sheet back and wandered out in silence. As he reached the panda car, Percy asked, “How are you?”

The DI refused to answer.

“At least he went out bravely,” Sergeant Percy said sadly. “He would have wanted it that way.”

“If nothing else, Charly did not want this. I’m damn sure of that!”

The car drove off as dark clouds scurried overhead. Within the morgue, the mortician pulled the sheet back and smiled.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll soon have that nasty wound sorted out.”

She looked at the clock before drawing the sheet over the dead face.

“I’ll do that tomorrow. Time for the pub.”

She walked to the basin and washed her hands before heading for the door. As she turned the lights out, Charly’s eyes flickered and his arm fell into full view.

Ep 2

The previous Saturday, a dark entity drifted through the town, searching for someone, or perhaps something. As it sighted the hospital, it swept inside the building and headed for the morgue.
The mortician had nearly finished that night. His twelve hour shift drawing to a final close. He was forty and quite a sad individual to boot. He never glanced back at the muscular body he had washed out.
If he had done this, perhaps he would have seen the entity that entered via the left nostril. Perhaps not.

What he did hear, was the sound of breathing and the corpse rising to sit up. The mortician swung around as the body lurched toward him. The strong arms fully outstretched.

“What the hell is going on? Who the hell are you?”

The fingers gripped his head tightly and twisted it violently to the left. The neck snapped with a loud crack and as it fell, the corpse tore it free completely.

Dropping it into the basin, the corpse examined his muscular face and smiled at the cool, blonde hair.

“Quite an improvement.”

He opened the door and peered out before glancing back.

“I nearly forgot. I’m the occultist by the way.”

The dead mortician did not hear of course. He was far too gone for that.

The occultist raced down the cold corridor until he heard someone coming.

“Damn it!”

He dashed into the nearby rest room and waited for the stranger to pass by. He noted the jacket and trousers hanging up and quickly pulled them on. Happy now at least, he dashed into the main hospital building.

Despite his lack of socks and shoes, no one took a blind bit of notice. When he found the exit, he made for the busy car park.
Luckily for him, a taxi stood waiting for a fare and he dashed into the rear.

“Where too sir?”

The occultist smiled.

“Foxley Wood please. I have to pick someone up. After that, the cinema please.”

The driver set the taxi in motion and headed in the requested direction. As they drew up alongside the dark trees, the occultist got out and tapped the driver’s window.

“How much do I owe you?”

The driver unwound the window and said, “Three quid please.”
The occultist struck at once. Fists smashed into his face as fingers found the door lock. As he pulled it open, the dazed driver tried to resist the irresistible. It was hopeless in the end. A series of violent blows reduced his skull to a bloody pulp.

The body was dragged into the woods and dumped without ceremony or sorrow. The killer ignored the blood and climbed into the seat.
“Not a bad model. Now where? Oh, I know. My old haunt will do.
Whoever owns it now is soon going to be sorry.”

He drove carefully across town until he saw his old townhouse. Not so old of course. These had been built in the boom years of the eighties. He remembered the underground garage and found the entrance easily enough. After parking up, the occultist climbed the stone steps to his old rear door.

“I wonder if the new owners took the key?”

He reached up and smiled.

“Obviously not.”

The key was turned and he crept inside. Reaching the hall stair, he climbed quietly until the bedroom stood before him. He opened the door and spotted the sleeping woman.

“Some bird,” he whispered.

He crept forward and gazed down, before pulling the thick cover over her face and pushing down hard. The struggle for life was frantic, though short lived. When it was over, he carried the body into the garage and placed it haphazardly inside the boot.

“Serves the ***** right,” he hissed. “Should have known better.”

He returned to his old home and found the lounge. All his own belongings had gone of course, but he liked what he saw.

“At least she had taste. I’ll give her that.”

He returned to the bedroom and climbed between the sheets. As his eyes closed that night, DI Nixon and Sergeant Percy arrived at the morgue to investigate an unusual case of murder.
 
Ep 3

“What was she working on?” Percy asked the attendant.

“That would be in her notes sir. Though the fallen sheet indicates there was a body here.”

“Probably placed in the cooler,” Nixon suggested.
He found the book and flicked through it. On the last page, he found the recent guest.

“Thomas Harvey, age 42, a boxer by trade. Check the drawers Percy.”

The sergeant began opening each tray in turn and after checking number twelve, he shook his head.

“Not here sir.”

“Would it have been claimed by now?”

The attendant shook his head.

“Far too early for that sir.”

“Perhaps the suspect killed him and took the body?”

Nixon gave Percy a withering look as the doctor and forensic arrived.

“No need to explain cause of death this time,” the doc said.

“It’s pretty obvious,” Nixon replied. “I want this place brushed for prints and sealed off.”

As an afterthought he added, “I would also like the missing body to be found ASAP.”

This last statement stunned the medic.

“We have a body snatcher?”

“So it seems,” the sergeant replied.

“Lengths that some people will go to. You will have the report by two hours.”

Nixon smiled.

“Just what we need. Another all night sit in.”

Back at the station, the puzzling case was tasking them quite severely. Within the hour, the hospital had phoned to say that the corpse had not been found. When the report arrived around two, the puzzle got even worse.

“The doc reckons that the head was removed manually. No sign of cutting.”

“Is such a thing possible sir?”

“It must be. The forensic boys failed to find any prints though.”

“Who would want to kill the mortician and steal the body?”

Nixon shook his weary head.

“Beats me mate. The real puzzle is how he got it out of the building.”

Nixon stood slowly and said, “A good sleep will help us both think a little straighter. I’ll see you at nine.”

“No Sunday church sir?”

“Not this time. Far too much going on as it is.”

Ep 4

At nine that Sunday morning, the desk sergeant stopped the DI as he entered the building.

“There is a woman in the interview room sir. She is pretty distraught.”

“I hope there is someone with her?”

“One of our WPC’s sir. Percy arrived about ten minutes ago.”

When he entered the room, the tall blonde turned around.

“Sorry for the delay madam. How can we help?”

The female officer left as the DI joined his sidekick.

“My husband failed to return last night. His taxi firm say he last visited the hospital.”

The two officers glanced at each other.

“Has he gone missing before?” Percy asked.

“Never sir. He’s a good bloke.”

“Do we have his details?”

“Yes sir. Do you want me to phone them?”

“You do that eh?”

“I’m sure he will be alright madam. We will do our best.”

A moment later, the sergeant poked his head into the room. Recognising the gesture, the DI stepped out.

“According to the firm he took an elderly chap there. He still has not called in and their attempts keep failing.”

“Sounds as though the radio is turned off. Did they give you his registration number?”

“Yes they did. Despatch is circulating it now.”

“Good for you. That is the second incident connected to that place.”

“Coincidence?”

“I doubt that Percy. A taxi would be the perfect cover you see. Only one problem though.”

“The body again?”

“It keeps coming back to that. No one could have carried it out.”

“What about the wife?”

“Send her home. I’ll knock up Charly.”

Back at the flat, Charly was playing with the cat when the call came through.

“How can I help you Nixon? I’ll be there shortly.”

He stood and gazed at the playful pet.

“Have to go darling. The locals are getting restless.”

The drive to the station was rather pleasant. The normally busy roads were rather on the quiet side. He pulled into the station and saw his two ‘friends’ waiting for him.

“You are eager.”

“Nice to see you again,” the DI said smiling. “Fancy a cuppa?”

“At the cafe?”

“We can use your car. Save us petrol!”

Market Street was quiet and Jo Jo even quieter. As the coffee arrived, the DI placed the known facts before him. Charly listened patiently until the discourse had finished.

“What do you think?”

“There is definitely a connection between the mortician, missing corpse, and the missing driver Nixon. Perhaps the killer is in cahoots.”

Percy shook his head.

“We checked the records. He’s clean.”

“I see. Have the hospital authorities made a full search?”

“They checked everywhere,” Nixon replied. “It’s certainly not inside the building.”

“Rather strange don’t you think?” Charly commented. “It’s as if the corpse simply checked itself out.”

“I wish it had,” the DI joked. “A naked cadaver I could find.”

As they chuckled at the well-meant joke, their quarry was deciding what clothes to wear.

“The problem with women,” he said. “Is their damn choice of clothing.”

He looked at the tops and jeans before deciding which ones to wear.
After pulling them on, the occultist felt much better.

“I won’t need food at least,” he muttered. “Though the taxi can’t be used. The cops are probably looking for it now.”

He thought for a moment before smiling to himself.

“I wonder what the sex girls are up to?”

He pondered for a moment before heading for Market Street. When he arrived the cafe was empty, but the girls were still selling their wares.

“You look gorgeous,” a middle-aged woman said. “What I would do for you.”

The corpse smiled and said, “How much?”

“For you love fifty quid. To everyone else a hundred.”

“Fancy coming over to my place?”

The woman looked him up and down before making a decision.

“Why not eh? You a wrestler then?”

“You could say that. It’s quite a distance but the stroll will do us good.”

The other girls logged the pickup and watched with envious eyes as the pair walked briskly away.

By the time that they arrived at the quaint town house, the killer had learned a bit more about her. An only child, who’s father had been in and out of prison more times than could be remembered. Brenda had left at sixteen and moved from one disastrous relationship to another.

At thirty, she had lost her job and threatened with eviction, she had turned to the adult industry.

Now she was popular, as much as with the girls as with the clients.
When she saw his home, she was properly impressed.

“You must be loaded mate.”

The occultist smiled.

“I have a small sum. I don’t drink by the way.”

“Oh never mind. I’ll keep you occupied.”

Once inside the short hall, he led her upstairs to the bedroom and made an excuse to enter the water closet. As Brenda stripped for action, the living corpse wrapped a towel around his arm and walked into the room.

“You look quite lovely,” he commented as she lay upon the comfortable bed.

“Time is money you know. Take those clothes off eh?”

The occultist smiled and sat beside her. She smiled back as the towel was unloosened, before being used as a muffler. Brenda tried to scream, sadly in vain. As the reign of blows smashed her lovely face to pulp, the frantic arms fell dead and useless. The killer smiled and stuffed his fourth victim underneath that bed, before heading downstairs and into the old lounge.

“I wonder what happened to my stuff?”


Ep 5

Monday morning had nearly gone when the frustrated DI and sergeant Percy pulled up on the ‘B’ road that adjoined Foxley Wood. The forensic team were on site and the medic had finished his initial examination.

“Do we know the victim?” Nixon asked.

A forensic officer handed over a small plastic bag.

“Looks like the taxi driver sir.”

“The killer was tall and pretty strong Nixon,” the medic advised. “The face was smashed by a series of heavy blows. By the level of decomposition, I’d say he was dumped on Saturday.”

“We need to find the murder weapon,” Percy commented.

“I don’t think there was one,” the medic explained. “This was done with bare hands. We are looking for the same killer that ripped the head off that mortician.”

The DI’s ears pricked up.

“At least we are getting somewhere. So, he picks the killer up at the hospital, brought here and killed. Then the taxi is stolen.”

Percy glanced at him.

“He must have dumped the car elsewhere sir. Probably miles away.”

“The quicker we find the car sergeant, the faster we’ll catch this misfit.”

A voice suddenly shouted from a clump of weeds and the officers wandered over.

“Find something?”

The forensic officer pointed at a bluish piece of skin.

“You better see this doc,” the DI said.

When the medic examined this piece of evidence, his face looked puzzled.

“What’s up?” Percy asked.

“I need tweezers,” the medic said.

The forensic officer handed a pair over and the doctor picked up the fragment. Gazing at it carefully he said, “This can’t be right.”

“What are we looking at?” the DI asked.

“Slewed flesh Nixon.”

“I don’t understand.”

The doc’s face looked grim.

“When you move a corpse after three to four days, some skin slews off. This particular fragment definitely came from the soul of a foot.”

“Which means the body was moved from there to its current position.

“Not likely,” the medic explained. “This came from another corpse.”

The DI shook his weary head.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll stake my reputation on it.”

“Right. I’ll need a full DNA test on it. I expect results by twenty-two hours.”

“You’ll have it sir,” the forensic officer replied.

“Where to now?” Percy asked.

“A quiet word with our assistant is in order sergeant.”

Elsewhere, a tall, muscular gent entered ‘Times of Old’ antique shop and gazed around at the articles. The elderly owner stepped from behind the heavy desk and smiled.

“May I be of assistance?”

The gent smiled.

“I noticed your unusual furniture sir. I am really interested in purchasing them.”

The owner knew what he meant. The round table and very strange chairs had arrived a while ago.

“A lady brought them sir. I don’t like chairs with angels carved upon them. Make me feel very uncomfortable.”

The gent smiled.

“I knew someone once who loved that sort of thing. How much do you want for them?”

The owner raised his eyebrows.

“Well sir, I could not let them go for less than a grand.”

The gent smiled and handed over a wad of cash.

“Can you deliver them today?”

The owner nodded as the address was given.

“I’ll be in at two this afternoon. Thanks.”

The gent left the shop and started the long walk home.

“Nice for that woman to leave some cash behind.”
 
Ep 6

The DI’s drive had been interrupted on Market Street by a young woman who had flagged them down.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Percy had demanded.

The woman was unapologetic.

“We need help mate.”

“What do you mean help?” the DI asked. “We are in the middle of a murder enquiry.”

The woman screwed her eyes.

“Brenda’s gone missing. Screw your ruddy enquiry.”

“Just calm down,” Percy advised. “When did you see her last?”

“Sunday mate. She went off with a muscleman.”

“Perhaps she simply went home,” the DI suggested.

“I checked that,” the woman hit back. “I tell you something has happened to her.”

“What does he look like?” Percy asked.

“He’s quite tall and pretty muscular.”

“That’s a great help,” Percy said sarcastically. “What was he wearing?”

“Now that I think of it, he was wearing female jeans.”

“Strange thing that,” the DI commented.

“That’s what I thought,” the woman said.

“We will need a full description my dear,” the sergeant said. “Want a lift to the station?”

The woman’s account turned out to be pretty short, and when she left, the officers read it again.

“Nothing strange in this sir. Apart from the clothes.”

“Perhaps you know that’s a clue, sergeant. Why would a body builder wear female jeans?”

“Cross dressing perhaps.”

“I’m not satisfied with that. Circulate this to the boys will you.
Then we’ll pay Charly that delayed visit.”

When they at last arrived, Charly listened to the details again and rubbed his chin.

“The chances of two corpses going missing are highly unlikely. I think you are missing the obvious conclusion.”

“Which is?” Nixon asked.

“Remember that joke of mine?”

“About the corpse?” Percy asked.

“About the corpse sergeant. I think my new theory fits the facts so far.”

The DI was one step ahead.

“Please don’t suggest ‘Night of the living dead’.”

Charly stared at him hard.

“Dead mortician? Missing corpse? Murdered taxi driver and that piece of flesh? Come on Nixon, it fits like a glove.”

“So you are suggesting that the corpse is doing all this?”

“When the DNA results arrive, don’t be surprised if they match the missing body sir.”

“Another explanation is that our killer had a second body in the car. That is far more believable.”

Charly thought that over.

“That would require the killer to collect a second vehicle. Surely not.”

“I’m sorry Charly,” the DI said sadly. “Despite everything, this is one theory too far.”

“That is up to you sir. Before you go off in the completely wrong direction, consider this. The killings shall continue until that body reaches a natural crash point. Then the occupant will need another.”

The inference was deadly simple. Even for these hardnosed officers.

“Body snatching?” Nixon asked.

“A very rare phenomenon. Some powerful individuals cannot accept the idea of death. So they ally themselves to the dark side, and when their body ceases to function they simply borrow another.”

“Any proof?” Percy demanded.

Charly smiled.

“A 16th century Troubadour was such a man sergeant. He turned up in Paris in the year 1850, as a matter of fact. He boasted of cheating death. Caused quite a sensation at the time. After a year, he simply vanished. You can look it up if you like.”

“Sounds fraud to me mate,” Nixon replied. “Explains why he vanished. Fear of being caught out.”

“I certainly believe it,” Charly said flatly. Far too many witnesses.”

The officers stood for a moment.

“Thanks for the tea and we will stay in touch,” the DI said. “I think I’ll follow my own nose on this occasion.”
 
Ep 7

As they reached the door, Charly asked, “Do you mind if I do some snooping on my own?”

The DI sighed.

“Where would you go?”

Charly smiled.

“That antiques shop. I can explain along the way.”

As they drove through town, Charly did a little confessing.

“Only one man that I know off has enough dark power to accomplish this unnatural act. He called himself the occultist.”

“How does he tie in to all this?” the sergeant asked.

“Remember those grisly deaths and the missing bathtubs?”

The DI smiled.

“So it was you two at the monastery. I’m glad that I did not arrest you.”

“So am I. It ended up with me pushing him inside their tub. An experience he never survived I should add.”

“So you think that he’s behind this?” the DI asked.

“At least his evil spirit is Nixon. I noticed a few of his things were at the shop you see. If he has returned, he’ll want them back.”

“Sounds pretty outrageous to me,” the sergeant said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Charly commented. “We have arrived.”

When they entered the shop that afternoon, Charly noticed the missing items.

“Where are those angelic chairs?”

The owner smiled.

“Sold them sir. Got a grand too.”

“Did you record the buyer’s details?” Nixon asked.

The owner looked at him.

“What is that to you?”

The officer presented his warrant card.

“This is official business sir.”

The owner handed it back and returned to the heavy desk. He checked the book and said, “A Mr Collins bought it sir. The address is....”
When it was read out, Charly breathed in sharply.

“That’s where the occultist lived. I saw a woman come out of their about a fortnight ago.”

“What did he look like?” Percy asked.

“Tall, muscular, and a little brutish in my opinion. I was glad when he left.”

“Same description as the bloke who went off with that woman,” Nixon said.

Charly swung around.

“What more proof do you need Nixon? Now we can get him.”

When the vehicle arrived outside of the town house, Percy spotted the suspect from the third floor window. They raced to the door, kicking it open after four hefty blows. As they dashed upstairs, a chair was thrown toward them.

“Fancy seeing you again Charly? Catch me if you can.” He dashed into the bedroom as the officers followed.

“You’re trapped mate!” Nixon hollered.

“You think so?”

They watched the smiling figure fade from view, which left the officers baffled. Percy checked beneath the bed and reeled back in shock.

“There is another body here sir.”

“Where the hell would he go?” Nixon asked.

Percy noticed the car keys and snatched them up.

“He left the car at least.”

“We better check the garage then,” Nixon suggested.

They found the taxi where he had left it, and saw the bloody front seats. When the boot was opened, the body of the home’s former owner was in an advanced state of decomposition.

“The man’s a sadist,” the DI muttered. “Where the hell is he Charly?”

Their friend looked grim.

“There is only once place he would go really. To the monastery. Scene of his death.”

The DI barked into his radio, “Get an armed response unit to the monastery pronto.”

They dashed for the car and set off at high speed towards the unsuspecting nuns. As they arrived, Charly noticed the open gate.

“The bugger’s inside. Come on!”

They ran toward the imposing building as screams echoed through the air. Terrified nuns were running towards them as the armed squad arrived.

“Where is he?” the DI demanded.

A terrified sister pointed to the front door. The officers dashed inside and stopped.

“This damn place is a rabbit warren,” Percy said.

“You two take the ground floor and I’ll dash upstairs,” Charly ordered.

He dashed up the steps as the armed police reached the front door.

“I know you are here,” Charly called out. “Your time is up!”

“As if such threats worry me Charly. I have immortality and you don’t.”

Charly entered an upstairs study room and saw the occultist standing by the window. A large silver crucifix hung from the nearby wall.

“So the Troubadour returns.”

The figure bowed politely.

“After you murdered me I hunted for a suitable body until this one turned up.”

“It won’t last much longer you know,” Charly told him.

“Then I’ll simply find another. Perhaps yours.”

Charly grinned at the thought.

“My cat would tear your eyes out.”

“Where is Grant by the way? I thought you two were joined at the hip.”

Charly’s face fell.

“We lost him a short time ago.”

“Ah, yet you go on. Indestructible are we?”

“You know better than that.”

The figure nodded.

“I think it is time to depart.”

Charly glanced at the nearby wall and dashed for it. He hauled the crucifix off and hurled it at the grinning corpse. The crossbeam smashed into the chest of the startled corpse and seconds later, it spontaneously combusted.

As it burned, Charly ran forward and pushed it through the closed window. With a hellish scream, it smashed through the glass and plummeted toward the virgin ground below.

The scream had been heard downstairs and Nixon was edgy.

“That sounded like Charly to me. You lot take up position now!”

As they knelt and aimed their high-powered weapons, a figure appeared on the top landing. An eagle-eyed officer noticed that he was holding something. Trained to react to immediate threats, a single shot rang out...

When Nixon reached the still body, he saw the fallen bible. He turned it over and gasped.

“You ruddy well shot the wrong man you fools. He is inside the bedroom!”

The officers dashed inside and quickly discovered where their quarry had gone to. Nixon called for an ambulance as they slowly returned.

“He is dead sir. Being burnt to a crisp.

“He must have stopped him. Don’t you dare die on me you hear?”

...

When the young female mortician heard the sound, she switched the light back on.

“That’s damn strange she muttered.

She walked forward slowly toward the slab and saw the fallen arm.

“The attendant must have forgotten to place it upon his chest.”

She pulled the red sheet back and placed the arm across his body when she noticed something.

“His eyes are flickering.”

A sudden and terrible realisation came upon her. She dashed into the corridor, almost colliding with the startled attendant.

“Get the crash team down here now! That bloke is still alive!”

Ep 1

At a disused Yorkshire airbase, anxious eyes were watching the flashing screen. Triad stood behind the operative with an anxious look upon her face. Tall and slim, and dressed in a dark, but formal suit, she now ran this branch of military intelligence.

“What have we got Sam?”

“Three tornadoes are intercepting some kind of craft mam.”

“It’s not Russian then?”

“Not at that velocity mam. Mach six and holding.”

“The tornadoes will never catch it. Where is it heading for?”

“Foxley mam.”

Triad grimaced.

“Damn it!”

High above, the small craft reduced speed as it hurtled out of control toward the unsuspecting town. The desperate pilot wrestled with the controls as buildings came into view. The craft veered sharply before smashing into the ground, spreading debris as it slewed along before smashing into the vacant barn.

“It’s down mam,” the operator said calmly.

“Mobilise the army while I get my team down there. Code Alpha 1.”
She dashed out and gathered the twelve armed troopers, as well as Doctor Petty. As the military copter rose skyward, she put through a high priority call to a rather amazed DI Nixon.

“We are coming down Nixon. Don’t let anyone near that crash site.
You say it’s on Baker Farm? I don’t care about the fire! Stop the firemen putting it out. I’m declaring martial law. Get Charly as well. We need his ruddy help!”

Triad took a deep breath as the reply came in.

“How the hell do I know what we are dealing with? No, it’s not a damn aircraft!”

The jet propelled copter hurtled south, as a military force plodded toward the stricken town.

Charly of course had missed all this. As Christine watched from the safety of the loo seat, he lazed within the soapsuds relaxing slowly. The cat meowed and he glanced at her.

“Whatever is the matter love? Fancy joining me?”

The cat shook its dark fluffy head before crying out once more.
Charly recognised the warning and sighed sadly.

“Some bugger at the door.”

He wrapped the bath towel around his skeletal body and tiptoed slowly into the short hall.

“Who is it?”

A strange voice quickly answered.

“Jerrix! Now let me in you fool!”

Charly opened the door and simply gawped at the strange visitor. He was staring at a large slim cat with sea blue eyes, who wore a distinctive yellow cloak around his deep brown fur.

“You had better come in mate.”

Jerrix scowled and marched inside towards the lounge.

“You better get dressed right now,” Jerrix said sternly. “Foxley has a visitor.”

“Not the Queen then?”

“Your sarcasm will get you into trouble one day. A scout craft has smashed into that farm. We have to find the pilot before the military arrive.”

“I take it Jerrix that we are talking about aliens?”

“About as alien as you are to me.”

Charly hurried into the bedroom and dressed quickly. He chose a thick cardigan and brown trousers before rejoining the intrepid feline.

“I have a mini outside by the way.”

Jerrix nodded.

“It’ll come in handy. Right let’s move it.”

Grant’s car was dilapidated but still ran well. Charly booted it in the general direction of the thick black smoke.

“You mentioned a scout craft?”

“The mother ship is hiding behind your moon,” Jerrix replied. “The scout craft was only supposed to snoop around.”

“You seem very well informed.”

“I was monitoring their transmissions from my ship old boy. What kind of superhero do you think I am?”

Charly winked.

“A dead one. I did some checking on you. Does Tarra Jenkins ring any bells?”

“I know her.”

“She emailed me. Seems the council built your memorial.”

Jerrix shook his furry little head.

“That has not happened yet. Why won't she listen? We must not disturb the time line!”

“Seems to me Jerrix, that you are doing it quite well on your own.”

The car hit the country road that led toward Baker Farm. In the thick gloom, Charly spotted the police roadblock.

“Seems we are a little too late.”

He stopped and climbed out.

“Sorry sir, this area has been sealed off.”

From inside the mini the moggy shouted, “It is imperative that we get there!”

The suspicious constable started to walk over. Charly drew out his mobile and started to dial quickly.

“Who are you calling sir?”

“Hello Nixon. I can’t get to the farm. I see. You are there already.
Look mate, I have an expert on these things with me. You have to let us through.”

He handed the mobile to the startled cop.

“As you wish sir.”

The police car moved aside as the mini clanked past slowly. They drew to a halt as they reached the scene of the crash. The DI and Percy were waiting for him as the flames roared skyward.

“Why not put the damn thing out?” Charly asked.

“Triad said to leave well alone. Who the hell is that?”

“Jerrix Tau, Nixon. Any sign of the pilot?”

This was news to them.

“I was hoping it was unmanned. Triad refused to say what it was.”

Jerrix shrugged.

“It’s alien DI. Did Triad say anything else?”

“Something about martial law.”

Jerrix shook his head sadly.

“A damn cleanup operation. That really takes the biscuit.”

“I hate to ask this,” Sergeant Percy said. “What are we looking for exactly? A humanoid or...?”

Jerrix stared at him.

“In this case Percy, it’s definitely not human.”

After a short pause Jerrix muttered, “We have to stop the military getting here.”

“Why?” Charly asked. “They pose no threat.”

Jerrix glared at him.

“A cleanup operation? Martial law? Triad intends to liquidate your town.”

“They won’t do that,” Nixon insisted. “This is not Syria after all.”

The cat ignored it.

“Believe me sir, they will.”

Jerrix looked him up and down before saying, “They have no choice now.”

This unhappy news was a shock to the humanoids.

“So, we need to find this pilot and stop a massacre,” the DI concluded.

“That’s about the length of it,” Charly said.

“We are stuffed!” Percy concluded.

As everyone stared at the moggy, Jerrix smiled back.

“I love it when the odds are stacked against me.”

“You have a plan?” Charly asked.

“I certainly do mate. It’s a little late now but I can change all that.”

“What are you talking about?” the DI asked.

Jerrix smiled and pressed his gold throat clasp. A soft green glow came into view and the cat grabbed Charly by the arm.

“You are coming with me my boy. Could do with the help.”

As they trotted towards it, the moggy glanced back.

“Never mind Nixon, you will forget I was ever here.”

As they watched, the green light faded from view.

Nixon glanced at his sidekick.

“You know what Percy? I sometimes wish that I was a traffic warden.”
 
Ep 2

Charly stared at the interior of the ship with wonder.

“This control room has changed a bit.”

“Never you mind my boy. Have you any idea what I’m up to?”

“Sounds like time travel to me.”

Jerrix smiled.

“Well done old chap.

Charly gazed at the walls and floor that shimmered pale blue. Ahead, Jerrix stood before four metallic cat statues, each around five feet high. Slightly taller than he. The statues stood at the four compass points and within that space, a metal dome rose to waist height.
Jerrix turned as he walked across the spongy floor, before positioning himself at the western apex.

“This could be tricky Charly. I have to integrate the time projector you see.”

“Have you done this before then?”

“Of course my boy. See these levers?”

Charly could only see three.

“What about them?”

“They activate the craft my boy.”

Jerrix turned and wandered to the north-facing statue where he seemed to pull something.

Seconds later, rays of white light shot from the eyes of the statues and formed a silver grid above the dome.

“What do you think?” Jerrix asked.

“Quite amazing. What is it?”

He did not answer but simply waited. A few seconds later a spiral shaped sea of stars appeared. A huge bulge of light shone at the centre, and two dots flashed. Charly noticed that they were pretty close.

“What do you make of that?” Jerrix asked.

“I’m not as dumb as you seem to think,” he replied. “The nearside dot is Earth and the second is obviously the moon.”

Jerrix smiled as he walked to the east side. He pulled the lever sharply down and said, “Hold on tight yeah.”

There was no feeling of movement, nothing at all. Not even a slight vibration. Moments later Jerrix pushed the lever to the middle position.

“We have arrived Charly”

The moggy fiddled once more, and the galactic image faded to be replaced with the eternal darkness of space.

“Looks like nowhere to me Jerrix.”

The cat smiled.

“We have gone back approximately an hour of your time. Exactly where that mother ship was parked.”

“So when it arrives?”

“We hop aboard my boy. Then it gets really dangerous.”

Charly shook his head.

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire I see.”

“It’s the only way to live my boy. Now wait one second.”

He fiddled a little bit more and the image of a huge circular craft appeared above the dome.

“It’s bearing down upon us,” Charly commented.

“Not if I can help it.”

He dashed to the east statue and hauled the lever down sharply. The image faded completely and the cat smiled. Returning it to the central position, he padded toward the open door.

“Are you coming then?”

“Have I any choice?”

“Not really.”

As they stepped outside, the cat pointed to a large sleek craft.

“That’s the scout ship. Now follow me.”

As they ran across the floor of the launch bay, the green glow faded from view. The two desperados reached the rear wings, which in this case were vertical.

“We have to get inside,” the cat hissed.

“After you then.”

Jerrix edged along until he reached a blank section of fuselage. Pulling his fork like device from his immense pocket, he set to work.
Charly decided to keep a look out as Jerrix activated his device. As a door suddenly appeared an alarm klaxon activated.

“That’s torn it!” the cat muttered.

Charly looked around frantically as figures suddenly ran into the bay.

“We have ruddy company!”

Jerrix saw the approaching guards and knew that there was no point in running now. He raised his paws as the guards surrounded them.
Charly gazed at the peculiar V shaped skull and the deep black eyes.
A long thin neck connected to a muscular body that was supported by stubby, three toed feet. Tentacle arms swayed in their direction but Charly could see no weaponry.

“Explain yourselves,” a guard croaked.

Jerrix tried to smile.

“We got lost and I wanted to check our position.”

“Likely story. The captain will want to speak to you both. Move along.”

Charly had no intention of being captured and made a break for it.
He had only gone a few paces when a sudden blow felled him. Jerrix shook his head.

“When will they learn not to run?”

Ep 3

“Are you alright?”

Charly opened his eyes and sat up.

“What struck me?”

Jerrix held up a small metal box.

“The guard threw it at you.”

Charly took the thing and said wryly, “Mind the brick indeed.”

“What does that mean?”

“It does not matter now. Where are we?”

“The cells my boy. Your bid for freedom has cocked up everything.”

“Did you expect fair treatment then?”

“These are Nomads my boy. A highly developed race you know.”

“What’s their interest in my planet?”

Jerrix helped him up.

“Fear of what will happen if you lot go space travelling.”

“We don’t pose a threat Jerrix. This lot could swat us quite easily.”

“I tend to agree my boy. Unfortunately they don’t. I strongly suspect that once the scout had reported back, some kind of punitive action would be taken.

“Like invasion you mean?”

“Not so direct. They would probably flood Earth with electromagnetic pulses. That would burn out every circuit you see. Your civilisation would collapse without power.”

“You call that punitive?” Charly asked.

“Far better than liquidation don’t you think?”

Charly saw the four walls and the lack of an exit.

“No escaping from here then.”

Jerrix shook his head.

“I just hope the captain takes an interest.”

Time passed slowly until a door appeared, and a uniformed figure entered with two guards. Jerrix made the introductions.

“You are causing me some disquiet,” the captain complained. “We were not aware of your advanced technology.”

“That tech is my own sir,” the cat explained. “His lot still think the moon is made of cheese.”

Charly glared but kept quiet.

“Why are you here?”

“To prevent a massacre sir. That scout craft of yours has an inherent design flaw.”

“We have used such craft for over a hundred years without any problems.

“Jerrix raised his voice by an octave.

“Microwave radiation interferes with its drive system. This planet is drenched in the stuff. You use it and you will certainly lose it.”

The captain regarded them with a little more respect and walked over to a blank piece of wall. As a tentacle tapped it once, a small panel appeared.

“Scan for microwaves. Level four.”

“We will soon see if your claim is true.”

“It’s true alright,” Charly said. “Most of it is produced by the military.”

A moment later, the report came in. The captain nodded.

“It appears that you are correct. We will have to try something else.”

“Like a probe?” Charly asked.

“Exactly.”

“I have a better idea,” the moggy said casually.

The captain stared at him.

“Which is...?”

“Let us return and gather the data for you. My craft is immune from their puny waves.”

“What guarantees do I have?”

“Only this. I won’t warn Earth authorities of your interest.”

“Not good enough. Perhaps your friend would care to stay.”

“As a hostage?”

“As a guest,” the captain countered.

Before Charly could protest, the cat had agreed. As he was escorted back to the landing bay, he winked back.

Along one of the many gleaming corridors, the cat suddenly stopped. Banging his own forehead he snapped, “Would you believe that I have forgotten something?”

“Is it important?” a guard croaked.

“Of course it is. Hold on a second.”

Jerrix took one step and his balled paws lashed out. The surprised escort reeled back as the cat smashed them both against the wall.

“Sorry chaps but I am rather busy you know.”
He ran along to the end and spotted the spiral staircase

“Looks like the right direction.”

Jerrix ran down until he spotted the sign he was looking for.

“Nearly there.”

He entered the fusion drive chamber and ran behind a huge metallic frame. Peeking around, his keen eyes spotted the control desk.

Unfortunately, an engineer was operating it. Hissing to himself, he crept silently forward and clubbed him over the neck. As he slumped to the floor, the cat scanned the controls.

“Now for a bit of poker. Just reroute the coolant and deactivate the back up...There we are.”

As a klaxon sounded, he tapped the intercom.

“This is Jerrix Tau. Release Charly right now or this craft blows. You have six minutes.”

Trapped within his cell, Charly heard the desperate plea. A moment later, the door appeared and the guards dragged him out. The captain soon joined them and led the way down to the drive chamber.

“Ah, thirty seconds to spare.”

“Here is your friend Jerrix,” the captain croaked. “Now restore the coolant!”

Jerrix tapped at the appropriate control and smiled.

“I have set up an insurance policy. If you try and stop us leaving, the coolant will stop permanently.”

“You can go. We will still send out the scout.”

“Despite my warning?”

“The data must still be gathered,” the captain croaked.

Jerrix led Charly out of the chamber and back toward the landing bay. As they reached it, Charly stopped him.

“What about the ruddy massacre Jerrix. You failed miserably!”

Jerrix looked genuinely hurt by the accusation.

“I never fail.”

He tapped the gold throat clasp and stomped into the soft green glow.
“What do you mean by that?” Charly demanded.

“That insurance policy I spoke about of course. I set it on a timer. When it activates, the coolant will be pumped directly into the fusion chamber instead of around it.”

“When will this happen?”

Jerrix smiled.

“Any time around now.”

He reset the controls and the craft reappeared outside Charly’s flat. As they stepped out, a blazing light appeared within the blue sky.

“As I said Charly, I never fail.”

Charly shook his head.

“What about the other me?”

“That theory is wrong my friend. As soon as you stepped onto the pavement, your previous self vanished. Laws of time you know.”

“One thing still worries me.”

“Which is?”

“Why not speak to Tarra?”

The cat rolled his eyes.

“I occasionally bend the laws of time but I never break them. Didn’t

Tarra mention that?”

“As a matter of fact no. Where are you off to now?”

“The galaxy my boy. A bit safer than your planet.”

Charly walked into the block and climbed the stairs to his door. As he entered, Christine bounded toward him and leapt into his waiting arms.

“Have you missed me darling? I know what we both need. A ruddy bath.”
He ran the water, and when the bubbles rose, he stepped inside. Christine jumped onto the edge as he whispered, “If anyone knocks my dear, I’ll simply ignore it.”

The cat stood upon its haunches and meowed its agreement.

Ep 1

Foxley village was a happy little community when the year 1600 began. Despite terrible deprivations, one thing bound everyone together. Fear of the Almighty.

On this day, the investigating magistrate had mounted his trusty steed for the short ride to Baker farm. Rather overweight and known for his acid tongue, his arrival was usually greeted with an overwhelming sense of fear and alarm. Today however, was destined to be different.

By his side, four armed horsemen followed for protection. Members of the militia, and armed with swords, no ruffian or highwaymen would dare interrupt this official.

As he dismounted at the farm, noting the usual pleasant odours, the unhappy farmer greeted him happily.

“Ta for coming, good sir. You are prompt at least.”

“I really have no time for this Tilsy, just show me will you.” The farmer took the party over to the east field and pointed at the dead sheep.

“Another four were like that this morning. That is seven since Monday.”

The investigating magistrate entered the field and made his way over to the stricken animals.

“Could there be wolves at work?”

“Nay sir. I been here now forty years and seen none of those wretched creatures.”

The magistrate knelt by one of the animals and felt the cold woollen coat.

“No sign of age or attack I see. Tis very strange.”

“That is why I summoned you sir,” the farmer said.

He paused.

“There is something else you should see.”

He led the official over by the crude fence and pointed at a brown patch of disturbed earth. The magistrate gazed down at the pentagram that someone had drawn.

The official looked grim.

“Tis sign of the devil himself,” he hissed. “It would seem that your animals are cursed by Lucifer himself.”

The magistrate stood slowly.

“I want all the creatures burnt at once. Do you hear?”

“Aye sir, will do as instructed.”

The official gazed across to the nearby wood and saw a small wooden cottage standing quietly.

“Who doth live there?”

The farmer smiled.

“Gretta Gurn sir. A pleasant old woman now she is.”

The official wiped his sweating brow.

“We shall have a word with this woman.”

He left the farmer to carry out his strict instructions and led his party over to the well-kept wood cottage. Ignoring the usual custom of knocking, he simply barged inside.

“How! Oh tis you magistrate?”

The owner quickly calmed down as the party entered. The magistrate saw the open fire and the wrought iron pot, which hung over it. He marched across the floor and peered inside.

“What is this you cook?”

“Tis broth sir. Helps me keep the awful cold out.”

The magistrate saw a wooden spoon nearby and used this to remove some of the thick broth. He smelt it carefully and huffed. As he put it down again, a black cat suddenly jumped upon the crude table. The four militiamen yelped with fright and even the official was a little disturbed. He stared coldly as the animal stared back.

“What manner of devilry is this?” he roared. “How dare you bring familiars into this God fearing community!”

The old woman was rightly horrified by his reaction.

“Tis only Emily sir. She be no harm at all.”

The magistrate had seen enough.

“Take her at once to the wretched farm.”

The woman was hauled out roughly and the official followed at a discreet distance. When they arrived, the farmer was less than pleased.

“What be doing sir?”

“She is in consort with Beelzebub sir. I mean to deal with her at once.”

“She be no witch,” the farmer protested.

“I know the signs sir. Have you a rope?”

The farmer nodded and raced off to fetch it. When he returned, the magistrate took it.

“Take her to the river.”

It was about a mile to the old river, and when they arrived, the woman was bound tightly. Still yelling the ignored protests, the magistrate gave the terrible order.

“Swim her!”

The militiamen promptly tossed the victim into the cold liquid as the magistrate looked on happily. The farmer stood at his side, horrified by their actions.

The woman struggled violently in the drink as the magistrate said, “See how she struggles against God’s holy fluid. If she drowns of course, then she is innocent and will be blessed.”

The woman struggled to the bank and was grabbed at once.

“She be guilty of witchcraft,” the magistrate declared solemnly.
He stroked his brow for a moment.

“The law demands a burning sir,” one of the militiamen reminded him.

“I know this sir. I have other matters to consider.”

“What other matters?”

“Matters of state. Something you know naught about. I cannot risk creating public panic. The minister is well known for his disdain at such burnings.”

“Then you must decide another punishment.”

The magistrate gazed down at the exhausted woman and nodded.

“Draw thy sword and remove her filthy head. The farmer here shalt burn her unholy corpse.”

Before the farmer could say a word, the militiaman’s sword swept down and sent the woman into a far more pleasant life.
 
Ep 2

Four hundred and twelve years had now passed since that tragedy. The village had grown into a bustling town where hopes and aspirations could thrive, or be shattered forever.

The old river had dried up long ago. The old bed could still be followed of course, as long as you did not mind being barged from it by a horse and rider. The river had become a welcoming bridleway.
Cathy had brought her twelve followers to this cruel place. To them she was divine. To them she was God. As she stared at the bridleway she said, “In this very spot the witch was soaked before being sent on to Satan himself. Only recently though, the damned people rebuilt that Tower of Babel. They ignored our timely warning. Now they shalt pay!”

At these words, a follower known as Trudy made the call.

Peter was a hard working insurance salesman whose office was located upon the top floor of Jubilee Tower. When his mobile rang, he made an excuse and made his way to the gents.

“Yes? I understand. Of course I know where the explosives are. That dummy run proved our plan will work. You want them planted tonight? No problem. I’ll set the timer for nine on the morrow. Bye.”

He smiled coldly before returning to his day job.

Trudy smiled.

“He is ready.”

Cathy nodded.

“Let us go to Foxley and decry their evil ways.”

Singing hymns and shaking their happy tambourines, the group of self-proclaimed disciples set off to do battle.

“I don’t care Nixon,” Charly said sharply pacing the floor of the interview room. “Whoever planted that fake bomb is still a threat.”
Sergeant Percy stood at the door watching carefully as his boss tried to explain.

“Everyone has a tight alibi Charly. Even the damned boss. All the guards were checked as well. You know all this.”

“Why do you think it happened? What was the point?”

“To create fear,” Percy said.

Charly shook his head and said, “That is far too obvious mate. I strongly suspect it was simply a test run. Let me tell you both this. I’m about to take a ruddy holiday!”

“Who would want to destroy it anyway?” the DI asked. “You are suggesting an inside job that simply does not hold water.”
“Only because you are not looking deep enough.”

“We are doing our best,” Nixon protested. “You seem to have forgotten how busy we have been.”

Charly knew perfectly well of course.

“At least emphasise a constant check upon the basement eh?”

Percy smiled.

“We are already doing that mate.”

The door suddenly swung open, nearly colliding with the sergeant. A head popped through and said, “Those religious freaks are in town sir.”

“Thanks. Now our boys will be really busy now.”

“What religious freaks?”

“We got a call from our colleagues at Trimley that a group of women were heading our way Charly. They call themselves Cath’s Angels.”

Charly smiled.

"Another cult built upon sand. It won’t last.”

“Let’s hope you are right,” Nixon said. “Before I go for a break Charly, let me say this. If anything turns up I’ll let you know okay?”

“That will do for now Nixon,” he said glancing at his watch.

“Crikey! It’s gone noon already.”

“Time for lunch Percy,” the DI said standing. “Pop in again Charly, if you come up with anything.”

As he was leaving, he heard the loud singing and ringing of music towards Market Street and decided to take a look.

“At least I’ll get something to eat,” he grumbled.

Entering Market Street, he noted the familiar presence of the street women. He ignored them of course, staring at the twelve women who had brought the traffic to a halt.

“You sinners! Your utter damnation is at hand! Turn away from your evil vices or face the true wrath to come!”

A hand tapped Charly’s firm shoulder.

“Quite a sight eh?”

“Hello Grant. Damn strange women if you ask me. That must be the guru.”

Grant shook his head, the long grey beard swaying in the gentle breeze.

“I heard them at Trimley mate. That’s Cathy. According to her, she is the Godhead.”

Charly grinned.

“Damn stupid fools. Why do they believe her?”

“They need someone to look up to mate.”

Charly recognised the tone.

“You are speaking from experience I see.”

“Back in the late seventies, I hooked up with another group. Called themselves Sinners of Christ. That’s when my poncho arrived. Not to mention pot.”

“Ever take that thing off?”

“Only for a bath. It’s part of who I am now.”

“Why did you leave that group?”

Grant thought back to those happy days.

“They wanted to change the world through violence. I could not agree and even argued against it. So they told me to leave.”

“Are they still around?”

Grant shook his head.

“In 1982 they jetted off to Argentina. You know, just before the Falkland’s war. Within hours, the entire group had disappeared. The junta probably murdered them.”

Cathy was now pointing at the street girls.

“Dressed as peacocks but filled with rancid lust! How dare they walk the good earth!”

Charly had heard enough.

“Come on Grant. I need some lunch.”

They found JO JO, and sat at the table whilst looking at the cafe’s menu.

“What are you having mate?”

“Sausage roll and chips. How about you Grant?”

“A simple pie I think. After this I’ll go for a walk.”

Charly knew where of course.

“Foxley Wood again? What is the fascination?”

“I love blending with nature. Where will you be off to?”

“I need to buy tulips for my parents. Then it is off home.”

They ate slowly as the women continued their bloodcurdling threats.
Despite the thickness of the glass, their leader’s voice could still be heard.

“Damn your vices and greed. Damn your Tower of Babel!”

Charly dropped his cutlery with a loud clatter.

“What’s up?” Grant asked.

“That name mate. Now it all fits together.”

He pulled his mobile free and rang the number.

“Listen Nixon. I’m in the cafe on Markey Street. Get over here at once eh? I think your tower case is about to be cracked.”

Grant glanced outside to the women and raised his eyebrows.

“They are not behind that mate. Threats and bluster are not crimes yet you know.”

“Never you mind. Ah, here comes the friendly detective.”

Nixon and Percy walked in briskly and sat down.

“This had better be good,” Nixon said.

Charly pointed to the women.

“Cathy mentioned the Tower of Babel. I’ll bet my arse that she was behind our little escapade.”

Percy laughed.

“How could those idiots plant such a fool thing? The security desk would stop them.”

“They certainly did not break in either,” Nixon added.

“Didn’t I mention an inside job?”

“You think they have someone at the insurance firm?” Percy asked.

“Why not? These groups attract perfectly reasonable individuals at times.”

“It’s too much of a long shot,” the DI protested. “She was probably quoting biblical text.”

“I agree Nixon,” Grant chipped in. “Cath would never cross that line.”

“Do you still have that scanner of yours?”

Grant looked suddenly cagey.

“What scanner?”

“Look, I know that it is illegal to use but I’m sure the DI will overlook it.”

“It’s at home. When I finish this I’ll bring it over to your flat.”

“What are you scheming?” the DI asked.

“Tell me this.” Charly said. “Can you arrest those women at present?”

The DI glanced outside as Cathy raged.

“Fire and lightening shalt smite the wicked! Repent!”

“Of course not. It’s their right of free speech you see.”

“So we set a trap for them.”

Percy looked puzzled.

“Oh for crying out loud! She must have a ruddy mobile. That scanner will detect its activation signal which will give us the number.”

“Then we phone her?” Nixon asked.

“Grant makes the call. Says something along the lines of can you help me destroy Jubilee Tower. An angel ordered me to contact you.”

“She may fall for that rues,” Grant said.

“I’ll go along with it for a while. When Grant arrives I’ll give you both a lift.”

After lunch, Charly hurried home to Christine and waited for the DI and Grant to turn up. Around fourteen hours, they both arrived and Grant switched the scanner on.

“We will need to get pretty close,” he warned.

“They are still on Market Street,” the DI said. “Let’s pay them a visit.”

“I still cannot believe she would plan such a thing.”

“I know Grant,” Charly replied. “My guts disagree with you though.”

As the plain vehicle drew into the street, Charly said, “Slow down Nixon. Otherwise Grant won’t get a lock on.”

The car slowed and Grant studied the screen.

“Got it!”

“Okay,” Charly said with a smile. “Draw up here and Grant can call.”

When the vehicle came to a stop, Grant coughed and dialled quickly.

There was an agonising wait.

“Hello, I heard you at Trimley. I hate that ruddy tower you know. I was visited by an angel who commanded me to destroy it. Any ideas?”

As the reply came, the call was being recorded.

“I’ll see you at four then. Bye.”

Percy smiled.

“Seems your hunch was right Charly.”

“Where are you to meet?” Nixon asked.

“Foxley Wood.”

“I’ll have you wired and we will have a snatch team on standby.”

When four o’clock came, the sixties personality was standing within the deep woods as Cathy and her gang approached from the town.

“Nice to see you again.”

“I remember you,” Trudy said. “Love the poncho.”

“An angel sent you?” Cathy asked.

“He certainly did. Told me to pass on the message.”
Cathy nodded and indicated Peter.

“He works at Jubilee Tower. Plans to blow it up too. What is your area of expertise?”

“Spent ten years inside for arson. That tower uses gas heating. Set fire to that and bang!”

Cathy was pleased.

“You two can work together then. Peter will let you in and then plant the Semtex. You can arrange a little diversion.”

Grant smiled.

“Would love too.”

From a well-hidden position, the DI barked, “Zebra two, go, go, go!”

From seemingly nowhere, armed police ran forward screaming, “Armed police! Stay where you are!”

Cathy glared at Grant with blazing eyes.

“Damned Judas!”

She reached inside her rear pocket and moments later plunged the knife into the startled man’s throat. As he screamed, two shots rang out. Cathy whirled as the bullets struck home before falling face down upon the mushrooms that grew there.

Charly and the DI ran forward as the suspects were cuffed. They saw the bleeding form and raced toward him.

“Grant!” Charly yelled turning him over.

The open eyes and blank look were more than enough.

“He’s copped it mate,” the DI said softly.

Charly stared in silence, as the group were led away.
 
Ep 3

Two weeks after the bitterly sad funeral, Charly stood at his parent’s grave holding the requested tulips.

“Sorry for being late. Things just got on top of me.”

He knelt and replaced the withering daffodils.

“We lost Grant by the way. Only three came to the cremation. Only friends he had apparently. The group behind it are in jail and Nixon says they should get six years for conspiracy. As for Peter, he should get twenty years. The price for being the bomber I suppose.
They found the Semtex hidden behind the loo. Anyway, I have to go now eh? ”

He stood as thunder rumbled overhead. He gazed toward the stone church with the odd Norman tower before turning to leave.

“Hello Charly.”

A mirror image of himself stood before him.

“You did well you know. Mind the brick.”

The vision faded as Charly shook himself.

“What brick?”

Author’s note..Sequel to the killing of Shakespeare..

Ep 1

The museum, located on Poplar Street, was the town’s claim to true fame. The exhibits, mainly from the Roman period, were known far and wide. On this day, a new exhibit arrived. A simple set of cups and saucers, recovered from Titanic. Along with those sad trinkets came a quiet personality by the name of John Ismay.

As Charly and Grant looked around the new exhibit, the latter was none too pleased.

“This is grave robbery Charly. How dare they do this!”

“Shh. I agree with you mate but we can’t really stop them you know.”

As they looked into the glass box, a short but well built individual walked over and joined them.

“Enjoying the exhibits?”

Grant just sneered.

“These things belong with the vessel mate.”

“Actually, I agree with you sir. This was not my doing.”

“Who are you anyway?” Charly asked.

The gent swallowed hard.

“John Ismay at your service.”

Charly and Grant gave him a withering look.

“I see that you know my family’s story.”

“Bruce J Ismay climbed into a lifeboat and left over 1500 people still on board mate. As president of White Star, he should have taken his chances with the rest.”

“We have lived under that cloud since the tragedy sir. It really is about time that people gave us a chance.”

“Not until hell freezes over,” Grant hissed.

The gent looked genuinely hurt by this and Charly detected an inner turmoil.

“Something far more serious than just tittle-tattle is going on.”

The gent nodded.

“It would seem that I am being haunted.”

“By Bruce?” Grant asked.

The gent shook his head.

“By a little old lady who seems intent on bumping me off.”

“When did this start?” Charly asked.

“About the same time these trinkets were brought to my attention.”
Charly sighed.

“She’s probably a victim of the sinking. Looking for some payback.”

“You know of such things?” Ismay asked.

“You really would not believe what we know sir,” Charly replied.

“Where are you staying?” Charly asked.

“The Crown Hotel. Why?”

“We’ll visit tonight if we may. I may be able to shed some light on your eh, mystery.”

“That would be splendid sir. Room 1912.”

The gent moved off smiling broadly, as Grant whispered, “Room 1912?”

Charly looked grave.

“A rather unfortunate choice of room that.”

When the museum closed that evening, John Ismay returned to his hotel room. Despite its number, this descendent had not made the vital connection.

As he relaxed inside the warm bubble bath, thoughts of the impending visit filled his rather vacant mind.

“I wonder if this ghost is going to be put to rest after all.”

He lathered the soap and proceeded to wash his chest as the towel slid slowly from its rail. The movement had been noticed, and Ismay watched with renewed interest.

“If that is you, less of it. I did not drown you.”

A loud cackle of evil laughter rent the air and a pair of invisible arms thrust him beneath the soapsuds. As his legs and arms thrashed helplessly, an invisible finger pushed out his blue eyes. The pain was so terrible that he opened his mouth to scream, a fatal act if there ever was one.

Ep 2

When Charly and Grant arrived, they noticed the police cars and were met by Nixon and Percy in the main foyer of the hotel.

“Fancy seeing you here Nixon,” Charly said. “Anything up?”

“That Ismay fellow has apparently been murdered in his own bathtub.
Problem is Charly, his front door was locked. The master key had to be used to find him.”

Grant was less than polite.

“He got what he deserved.”

The DI was shocked.

“How can you say such a thing?”

“You know anything about Titanic?” Charly asked.

“Oh I see what you mean. However, John cannot be held accountable for that.”

“Seems the ghost got him after all,” Grant commented.

“You better fill me in,” Nixon said.

Charly related the earlier conversation and explained why they were there.

“After that Shakespeare stuff you would think we were safe.”

“The question is,” Charly said. “What are we going to do about it?”

“That is your affair,” the DI said curtly. “At present this is still a murder enquiry.”

“Have it your own way Nixon,” Charly said. “We on the other hand will check out another line of research.”

After they left, Grant asked.

“You have a plan?”

“Remember that ghost club place on Market Walk?”

“What about it?”

“Another medium has taken it over. We should speak to him.”

Grant shook his head.

“A waste of time. Look what happened to the other one.”

“Perhaps he is different. Goes by the stage name of Mystic Jim.”

Grant chuckled.

As they reached the small office, they noted that the light was on.
Entering quietly, they saw a tall gent dressed in brightly coloured silks sitting behind the desk.

“Have you come for a reading?”

Charly explained.

“Oh I see. Sorry to disappoint you but ghosts cannot kill.”

“We beg to differ mate,” Grant said.

“We only need you to contact this little old lady and settle her down,” Charly said.

“It sounds as if she is really attached to that crockery you know.”

“Ismay had his eyes pushed out and she drowned him to boot. What if she strikes again?”

The medium shook his head.

“This detective must be an idiot if he swallows that theory.”

“So you won’t help?” Grant hissed.

“Not on this. Personal readings yes. Exorcisms no.”

“We are not asking for a ruddy exorcism,” Charly said. “We just want her moved on.”

The medium stood to his full height.

“No can do. You should speak to a priest. They might be able to help.”

The two friends stormed out and climbed into the old mini.

“Some medium!” Charly snorted.

“He is probably a fake. How come he knows nothing about killer ghosts?”

Charly shrugged his shoulders.

“Beats me mate. Come on, take me home eh?”

The mini lurched off as Mystic Jim smiled to himself.

“They must think I was born yesterday. Probably a pair of pranksters.”

He glanced at his watch.

“Gone nine I see. Better lock up and head home.”

As he did so, an evil cackle drifted across his face and he stopped for a moment.

“Is someone there?”

When no response came, he stepped outside. From high above, a loud crack took his immediate attention. As his eyes swung skyward, a huge piece of masonry hurtled towards him.
 
Ep 3

The following morning, as Charly tucked into cornflakes, the DI rapped upon his front door.

“Come in detective. I take it this is not a social call?”

“Anything but,” Percy said.

After resuming his breakfast, the DI opened up.

“That medium you saw last night is now in the local morgue.”

“We were spotted?”

“You certainly were,” Percy commented.

“A chunk of masonry smashed his skull. What did you talk about?”

“We tried to enlist his help in moving this ghost on but he refused to listen.”

“Oh I see.”

“How is the investigation going by the way?”

The DI’s face fell.

“Everyone has an iron tight alibi.”

“What about the tower?”

“The insurance company is certainly in debt, but I can’t make a connection between them and that fake bomb.”

“So you want my help?”

“After that theatre I have to accept this ghost story. Problem is of course, how do we stop it?”

Charly finished chewing and mulled it over in his mind.

“That medium reckoned she was attached to that crockery in the museum. That sounds like a good place to start.”

“It won’t be open yet,” Percy informed him.

“Use your powers man,” Charly said. “What are you both? Men or mice?”

“What about Christine?” Nixon asked.

Charly smiled.

“She’s lying upon Grant at the moment. She’ll be okay.”

Once they got the museum opened, the three men found themselves staring at the stolen crockery.

“I hope you don’t intend to remove it,” the curator said.

Charly ignored him.

“Okay, what do you want? Two deaths are more than enough madam.”

The baffled curator stared at him.

“Is he right in the head?”

“Unfortunately yes sir,” Percy aid.

“Come on now. We know all about you now.”

From their rear, an evil voice shouted, “You know nothing about me!”

As they turned, the clear image of a kindly old lady stood before them.

“Who the hell are you?” the curator demanded.

In response, the lady raised her hand and flicked a finger. The curator was suddenly hurled across the paved floor.

“That was not required,” Charly protested.

“He needed a lesson in manners.”

As the dazed curator stood slowly, the lady snarled, “Get out of my sight!”

The poor man ran for the exit as the officers stared in blank amazement.

“Who are you?” Nixon asked at last.

“Nelly my friend. Third class and proud of it.”

“You went down with the ship?” Percy asked.

“Sure did. We were shut below decks like cattle. Yes, some escaped that trap. Not me though.”

“Killing the descendent was an evil thing to do,” Charly said flatly.

“If that damn man had drowned, that brat would never have been born!”

“What about the medium?” Nixon asked. “What was his crime?”

“Fakery my friend. He also refused to help. Remember?”

Charly wished he couldn’t.

“You have to move on now,” he insisted. “You can’t hang around here anymore.”

“For your information sonny, I’m trapped.”

“What do you mean by that?” the DI asked.

“She can’t move on,” Charly replied.

“You got it in one.”

“That is just great,” Percy commented.

Charly glanced at the old crockery.

“Were these from your cabin?”

The lady smiled.

“Those were the most beautiful things in my grim world sonny. I had even slipped them into my sack. Then we hit that ruddy berg and the rest is history.”

“Now I understand,” Charly muttered.

“I know you do sonny,” the lady replied.

Charly glanced around and saw the fire extinguisher. He carried it over and used the heavy end to smash the glass. He carefully removed the precious items and handed them over.

“These belong to you,” he whispered.

The old lady took them and beamed. As they watched in silent awe, her features transformed into a gorgeous thirty year old as a brilliant, but non-dazzling light appeared behind her.

She turned and gawped.

“Is that for me?”

Nearly in tears now, Charly whispered, “It certainly is. You have gained redemption.”

The woman walked into that light and faded from view. The light remained however.

“What just happened?” Nixon asked.

“She crossed over mate,” Charly explained. “I don’t quite know why the light remains though.”

An image started to appear in that loving light and two figures stepped into clear view. Charly’s heart nearly stopped.

“Mum, dad.”

“We thought we would complain about those daffodils son,” his late father said.

He stood, proud and tall. His dark hair and bright clothing shining as his wife stood beside him. Slightly shorter in stature, but wearing the same gleaming clothes.

“I don’t need my glasses now,” she whispered.

“Next time you visit that stone, try tulips eh?” his father suggested.

“Of course...I mean eh...”

“No need to explain son,” his mother replied. “We love you always.”

They smiled as the light drew them inside and faded from view.

Nixon heard the crash and the uncontrolled sobs as Charly sank onto his knees.

“I really don’t know what to say,” Nixon whispered.

Percy took his arm and drew him away.

“Did we see what I think we saw sir?”

The DI gazed at the sobbing man and nodded slowly.

“We just saw heaven sergeant. We just saw heaven.”

Author’s note..This follows on, from where tower of death ends..

Ep 1

The reporter turned savagely upon DI Nixon as he glanced at her.

“My producer is furious mate. We have just broadcast a fake news report!”

Nixon attempted to calm things down.

“Believe me mam; I was not too keen either. We were damn lucky he found that piece of film. It is imperative that this bomber thinks the Jubilee Tower has gone up.”

Sergeant Percy tapped his shoulder.

“Charly has just left the building sir.”

The DI left the confused anchorwoman, as the civilian ran towards them.

“Where is the bomb squad?”

“En-route my friend. All safe now?”

“I managed to defuse it didn’t I?”

The DI lowered his voice and explained the fake report.

“That was a good idea mate. One thing comes to mind though. He’ll soon find out that the tower is still standing.”

The DI smiled wryly.

“Let’s hope it flushes out the bastard eh?”

“I could not agree more sir. One piece of advice though. Check out that insurance firm on the top four floors first. Especially their cash flow.”

“You think it was an insurance scam?” Percy asked.

“It wouldn’t be the first time mate. That bomb was too easy to deactivate. Just tell the guys the Semtex looks a little unstable.”
Charly smoothed down his dark suit and started to walk off.

“Where are you off to?”

“Back home mate. I’ll have to ask my cat for forgiveness. As for
Grant, won’t he get a shock. Back from the dead eh?”

As he left the scene of confusion, a long dark van drew up, and the army bomb disposal team spilled out to remove the deadly device.
Charly ignored it and looked skyward.

“Thanks mum and dad. Even I thought that I was a goner.”

He wound himself down as he walked slowly home, turning the key when he got there. As he entered, Grant came running from the lounge.

“Time you had a shave mate,” Charly said noting the long grey beard.
As for that ruddy poncho...”

“How the hell did you survive the blast?”

Charly knelt as Christine bounded towards him.

“The DI faked that broadcast in order to draw the bomber into the open. Sorry if I worried you both.”

He stroked the cat lovingly, before walking into the lounge. As he sat upon the soft sofa, he reached for the coffee table and started reading the town’s daily paper.

“What about that doppelganger?” Grant asked.

Charly glanced up.

“He led me to the bomb site. On this occasion, he was not a harbinger of death. Which was lucky for me. One thing though, he had better not return. One fright like that is more than enough for me.”
He flicked through the paper and saw the two-page advert.

“I see the Life & times of Shakespeare is at our theatre.”

Grant sat and shrugged his broad shoulders.

“I never thought you were a fan.”

“I do have upper class tastes you know. I might just catch the evening performance.”

He glanced at Grant.

“Fancy coming along?”

“To that?”

“Why not? You might learn something.”

“I’ll probably fall asleep,” Grant replied.

“Suit yourself then.”

Charly gazed at the suit of mourning and suddenly felt out of place.

“I had better hang this up again. I put some flowers upon my parents’ grave.”

“Did you buy those daffodils?”

Charly nodded sadly and padded toward the bedroom. When he got there, he carefully removed the white card and put this upon his bedside cabinet. He removed the sad suit and replaced it with a woolly jumper and trousers. Returning to the lounge, he found the cat curled up upon the sofa headrest and sat beside her.

At just after 17 hours Charly sat in the small but comfortable Rose Theatre which strangely enough, was located on Theatre Street.
The play portrayed the life of the bard, with a few tweaks here and there of course. After an hour of stirring dialogue, the two actors reached the pivotal scene.

Shakespeare marched across the boards toward the skeletal form and shouted, “Foresooth! You again!”

“Did I not warn thee that I would return?”

Shakespeare turned toward the audience.

“Will not Hamlet desist these evil visitations?”

As these words tumbled out, a thick mist rose from the boards and enveloped the actor. As the audience giggled, it cleared again. The giggling stopped as they realised that something was terribly wrong.
The actor lay upon his back, with a dagger sticking out of his still chest.

Ep 2

As screams echoed around, Charly pulled out his mobile and rang a familiar number.

“Sorry to disturb you Nixon, but you are needed at the theatre. Shakespeare has been murdered.”

Charly waited patiently as the crowds left. Just after the medics arrived, DI Nixon and Sergeant Percy made their presence known.

“What are we dealing with?” Nixon asked.

“Something otherworldly sir,” Charly replied. “He was enveloped by a thick white mist I’m afraid.”

Charly followed them to the stage, where the DI flashed his warrant card.

“Did anyone see the killer?”

The shocked actors shook their heads.

“I was the only one with him,” Hamlet said. “One moment he’s speaking. Next, he is dead.”

“How is that possible?” Percy asked.

A young female actress was visibly shaking.

“Hamlet’s curse.”

The DI stared at her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know sir. In every performance of the bard’s Hamlet, the actor avoids mentioning the awful name.”

“Why?” the DI asked.

“It brings bad luck to the play and at least five actors have died.”

“Poppycock!” Percy exclaimed.

The actress slapped his cheek hard.

“Is not that knife real? Does not his heart lay there still and motionless?”

Charly stepped between them at once.

“I take it that the mist was not part of the play.”

“Damn right it’s not,” Hamlet said.

“It must have been his ghost then,” the actress added.

“Hamlet’s ghost?” Charly asked.

“Who else?” the woman asked.

The DI watched as the weapon was slowly withdrawn from the dead man’s chest. Luckily, the medics removed the blade with a kerchief to preserve any fingerprints. As Nixon took it, the body was gently lifted onto the stretcher and carried away.

“Can we go now?” the actress asked.

“Not until you all provide statements and your current addresses.”

“That’s easy,” Hamlet said. “Crown Hotel. We all reside there at present.”

Charly knew the place well. A fifties building designed to look like a castle. Upon the flat roof, an ancient cannon waited to be fired in anger.

“Very well then,” Nixon said. “We’ll take the statements on the morrow. As for your play, I am afraid it’s cancelled. At least until we sort out this mess.”

As the players left the building, Charly buttonholed the officer.

“How is the tower investigation going?”

“They are cooperating Charly. Our finance boys are checking the books. As for the bomb, the army say it was never a threat in the first place.”

“How come?”

The officer smiled.

“That blue stuff you thought was Semtex, was nothing more than glaziers putty.”

Charly’s cheeks went bright red at the news. The DI patted his shoulder warmly.

“Better luck next time eh?”
 
Ep 3

DI Nixon was rather surprised when he left the theatre with his trusty sidekick. The female reporter was waiting for him.

“You again.”

The woman smiled sweetly.

“My producer wants a quid pro quo.”

Nixon sighed at the news.

“What do you want?”

“Is it true that a ghost knifed the actor?”

“Certainly someone did mam. We both know that ghosts don’t go around knifing people.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“With my pleasure.”

“What about the bomb at the tower?” she persisted.

The DI dropped his voice sharply.

“This is strictly off the record you understand. The bomb turned out to be a fake. We are also investigating the insurance company.”

The lady smiled.

“Thanks for that.”

“Anytime,” Nixon replied before climbing into the panda car.

“Where to now sir?” Percy asked.

“Back to the station I think. You know sergeant? This is an open and shut case.”

Percy glanced at his boss as the vehicle drove away from the kerb.

As evening turned to night, Hamlet was a worried man. He knew about the curse, who didn’t? As he paced the floor of his hotel room, one thought plagued him.

“Who was next?”

He turned the television on and sat to watch the wildlife programme. As the lions hunted Zebra across the African plain, the door was rapped thrice. Sighing deeply, he sauntered over and opened it quickly. A wall of mist stood before his startled eyes.

“Is this a dagger I see before me?”

The panda car had nearly reached the station when the call came through. Nixon informed his driver at once and the vehicle performed a 360-degree turn that startled an unfortunate cyclist.

The maid was hysterical as the officers gazed upon the body of Hamlet.

“I want this corridor blocked off Percy. No one in or out.”
He noted the bloody dagger protruding from the victim’s chest and the look of surprise upon his face.

“How many residents upon this floor?” he asked.

“Three sir. All acting types.”

“Thanks, you may go now.”

As Percy returned, he began banging upon the doors loudly. The woman who had accosted Percy earlier was the first to answer. Everyone knew by now what had happened and she was none too pleased.

“I’m departing in the morning,” she muttered. “I’m not waiting to be bumped off.”

“You can’t do that miss,” Percy insisted. “We still need those statements.”

“To hell with those. Can’t you see through those sceptical eyes?”

“You still think a ghost did these?” Nixon asked.

“What else can materialise on stage and do that before coming here for a second performance?”

“Where were you when...” Nixon asked gently.

“I was in bed of course.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“Only the thud of him falling. When I looked, the maid was walking down this corridor.”

The officers left and soon located the second suspect.

“I was in the bar sir. Plenty of witnesses.”

There was no point in further questions so they quickly located the third person of interest. A young man of twenty answered the door.

“When I heard the screams from that maid I came running. There Hamlet was, dead upon the damn floor.”

“You did not hear someone running off?” Percy asked.

“Where could they have gone? There is only one way off this floor sir, and the maid would have seen them.”

Nixon glanced at the sergeant.

“Perhaps not such an easy case after all.”

The young man nodded.

“Perhaps it was a ghost after all.”

“You really believe that?” Nixon asked.

“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy Horatio.”

When the officers left the room, the forensic team had arrived with the trusty doctor.

“Strange weapon to use?”

“Why do you say that?” Nixon asked.

The medic pointed to the blade.

“This is a letter opener. Rather ornate tis true. Just like the other one.”

The two officers were startled by the revelation.

“When can I see the prints?” he asked the forensic officer.

“By the morning sir.”

Nixon nodded and left the scene as elsewhere that night, a lonely cleaner mopped the foyer to the closed theatre.

She had done this for ten years now. A boring job tis true, but well paid none the less. Due to the killing, she was not allowed to mop inside the building, which was a mighty relief for this hard worker.
Beneath the nineteenth century clock, she noticed what looked like two red dots upon the dark floor.

“What can those be?”

She mopped over them, and was shocked that they remained in situ.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

She furrowed her brow as a column of white mist rose behind her. She must have felt something for she dropped the mop and whirled around.

“For the love of God!”

A flash of silver cut her short, and the body crashed headlong upon the water-filled pail.

Ep 4

The sun had just risen when the officers were called to the scene. A passing traffic warden had noticed the open door and peered inside.

As Nixon gazed upon the woman’s cold corpse, he whispered, “Poor
Yoric, I knew him well.”

“I didn’t know that you read Shakespeare sir.”
Nixon smiled.

“Only at school Percy. It seems an appropriate line now. I want the theatre searched from top to bottom. The damn body count is mounting.”

“I’ll see to it sir.”

From outside, a loud and very drunk voice hollered towards heaven.

“A horse, a horse. My kingdom for a horse!”

The DI recognised the voice at once. Dashing outside, he saw Henry staggering along the street, vodka bottle raised high.

“You know the rules by now,” Nixon said snatching it away. No drinking in public places!”

“Come on sir. Hic. Gees it back now.”

“Only if you promise to keep your voice down mate.”

“As God is my witness.”

The DI, a kindly man at heart, handed it back before rejoining his partner in crime.

They had reached the actors changing rooms and Percy noticed a tape recorder sitting lonely upon a desk. He pressed play and the strong voice of a women drifted through the air.

“Romeo, Romeo, where for art though Romeo?”

He turned it off at once.

“Sorry sir.”

“No need Percy. We have to check everything you know.”

A sudden shout from the stage brought the two officers running at once.

“What’s up?” Nixon yelled.

The constable pointed.

Rising from the boards to a height of five feet was a column of white mist.

“Run for it now!” Nixon yelled.

The column suddenly advanced and silver flashed the air. As it vanished, the officer fell to his knees, gripping the buried handle. He gazed up at the two officers and groaned, “Et tu Brute?”

His eyes closed, and the body keeled over sideways.

Nixon glared at the boards.

“There’s not even a damn trap door sergeant. This has turned into a
Shakespearean nightmare.”

“We both saw it this time sir.”

The DI pulled out his radio calmly.

“Despatch? I want Charly and Grant brought to the theatre at once.
Handcuff them if necessary.”

He saw the look upon Percy’s face.

“We have no option now. We really need their help.”

The corpses were being removed, when the two civilians arrived upon the scene. Within the theatre, Nixon called them over.

“Two more Nixon?” Charly asked.

“We have four bodies now,” Percy replied.

“What do you know of this curse?” Nixon asked.

“Only that every actor who has said Hamlet in a play has suffered serious consequences. The problem is though; it only applies to that play. This production should have been immune.”

“Well it’s not,” Percy said.

“We saw this mist kill one of our men,” the DI explained.

“In here?” Grant asked.

“Upon the stage to be precise,” Percy said.

Charly thought of something.

“As I was coming in, there were two dots of blood upon the floor under that clock.”

“Show me where,” Nixon said.

Back in the foyer, Charly pointed.

Nixon knelt and ran his finger over them.

“Must be paint. It’s still damp from that mop.”

“Whatever is causing this must be here,” Charly suggested. “We can’t ignore three deaths in one building.”

Nixon stood.

“Neither can I mate. How do we find this thing?”

Charly glanced at his poor friend.

“Fancy playing Horatio?”

Grant stared back in horror.

“You must be joking!”

“I’ll arrest you if you don’t,” Nixon said dryly.

Grant’s face fell.

“What if it appears again?”

“I’ll need the murder weapon,” Charly said casually.

“It’s inside the evidence box,” Nixon said.

When it was opened, he handed Grant a pair of white gloves.

“Put these on first.”

Grant did so, gazing down at the blood soaked letter opener. He removed it from the plastic evidence bag and asked, “What do you want me to do with it?”

“Just let instinct take over,” Charly said, winking.

He whispered something into Grant’s right ear and smiled.

“You had better know what you are doing mate.”

The stage was cleared of the CSI team, and Grant stood upon the boards.

“Are you ready?” Charly asked. Remember

“As ready as a plate of rice mate.”

“You can start then.”

Grant took a deep breath, trying to control the sensation of dread.
He coughed once and spoke in a loud, but clear voice.

“What, has this thing appear’d again tonight?”

A column of white mist suddenly rose before him and Grant staggered back. As it suddenly advanced, he lashed out with the silver blade.
The mist reeled back and terrifying screams rent the still, purified air. As everyone watched, the column suddenly collapsed, leaving nothing but dark dust upon the boards.

Charly clapped loudly.

“Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!”

Just before leaving, the DI took Charly to one side.

“How did you know?”

Charly smiled at Grant and winked.

“Know what detective inspector?”

The Crying Child.

A month had passed since the walking dead, and Jerrix and Tarra had returned to their village home.

On this morning, she found the moggy sitting in the garden shed, eyes scanning the radio telescope.

“Any word about the war?”

Jerrix turned and smiled.

“It seems that the enemy planet has been located child. The galactic forces are preparing for a final assault.”

“At least you won’t be involved. What with your ship having been destroyed.”

“I have sent a message to Commander Robbs on Tronse. If he needs me
I’m ready to go.”

“Are you insane Jerrix? That final vision should have told you to stay away. Do you enjoy living dangerously?”

“What else have I done but live dangerously. You really don’t expect me to grow old and senile I hope.”

“I know you don’t,” Tarra replied. “We both know what my future self said.”

Jerrix shrugged her shoulders.

“You could come with me of course.”

“Would you allow that?”

“If this is really my last hurrah, I would insist. Besides, you did well at that hospital.”

A flashing light from the panel interrupted them.

“Seems our transport has arrived,” Jerrix said standing up.

As she adjusted the travel bracelets she whispered, “Are you really up for this?”

Tarra kneed the moggy in the shins.

“Let’s go.”

A moment passed and they found themselves inside a military transporter. The deck was packed with armour and heavy weapons.

“We should report in,” the cat muttered.

She led the way to the lift and selected the bridge. As they stepped inside, the cat was astonished to see Robs waiting for her.

“I had to meet you here Jerrix. We have a war to win today.”

“So the battle plan is complete?” Tarra asked.

“Not quite. The planet remains elusive but the last of their cruisers have assembled not far from this location.”

“Just how many cruisers do you have?” Jerrix asked.

“Only two I’m afraid. We make up for it with strike craft and weaponry.”

“Only if you get through the shield,” Jerrix reminded him.

“We intend to hit their fleet from three sides. I don’t see a problem with that.”

Jerrix shook her head as the screen showed a wall of enemy craft approaching.

“Battle stations!”

Alarm klaxons sounded as the allied fleet broke formation and began the engagement. Upon a digital map, the movements of both sides was closely tracked.

A volley of laser bolts rattled the ship as enemy strike craft roared in.

“Shields at maximum,” the commander ordered as a troop carrier exploded.

“That’s the third sir,” an officer reported.

“Acceptable casualties.”

“Acceptable?” Jerrix argued. “You just lost another thousand men.”

“We will break through this,” Robs insisted. “We shan't be denied victory now.”

Another volley shook the ship when the screen suddenly showed a small spiky object spinning towards them.

“That’s a mine!” Jerrix yelled.

“Hard to port!” the commander screamed.

For a few moments, it looked as if the mine would swing past harmlessly, but their luck had ran out. As it passed by starboard, a spike struck the defence shield and detonated.

The awful explosion ripped a gaping hole in the side of the transporter as the helmsmen battled to retain control.

“Stabilisers gone sir?”

The commander shook his head.

“We can’t abandon ship. There is only empty space out there.”

The ship heeled over, sending the crew slamming against the far wall.

“This must be the end!” Tarra screamed as the enemy fire smashed through the failing shields.

Jerrix quickly adjusted their bracelets and whispered, “I really don’t know where we are going you know.”

Tarra smiled as the bracelet was activated, hurtling them both toward an unknown planet.

When they landed upon the hard sandy surface, Jerrix gazed skyward at the surrounding battle.

“This place was not even detected my dear.”

“Who do you think is winning?”

Jerrix pointed toward the battling ships.

“It looks like the enemy I’m afraid.”

She stared around at the bleak surroundings and pointed toward a nearby lake.

“We should get a drink right now. Dehydration could be a real problem.”

As they crossed the tortured ground, Tarra kept her eyes open for signs of the enemy.

“Is this their home planet then?”

“I believe so child. Certainly Robs thought so.”

The lake looked dark but placid as they reached it. Jerrix drew out her faithful device and scanned the surface.

“It’s certainly drinkable.”

They knelt and gulped down handfuls of the rather sweet liquid. Overhead the battle raged, ships exploding in the vacuum of space.

“We can’t get home now I suppose?”

Jerrix glanced at Tarra before removing the bracelets.

“Not without power my dear. We will just have to steal a ship I suppose.”

She tossed the useless bracelets into the lake and sat back for a moment.

“What are you thinking?” Tarra asked.

“It’s obvious to me that a planetary shield is in operation. So the wise thing to do is disable it.”

“If you can get past the enemy,” Tarra reminded her.

Jerrix pulled the purple cloak closer, and placed her chin upon her paws.

“I suppose you know that if this is really their home world, their leader must be here.”

“That would make sense.”

“Perhaps we should try and get rid of him,” the cat suggested.

“He would only be replaced,” Tarra said.

“You have a point there child. Now, are you fit?”

They stood up as the cat scanned the way ahead.

“The damn surface seems to have no landmarks.”

“Choose a direction then” Tarra suggested.

The cat smiled and pointed toward the far side of the lake.

“How about there?”

Tarra held her paw and led them towards the distant target. After an hour’s trudging, they reached the far side and the cat spotted a distant shimmer.

“That is more than just a mirage my dear.”

“Something hidden?”

“Very probably. Come on...Now we have something solid to go on.”

When they reached it, Jerrix knelt and started clawing away at the hard dirt.

“What are you up to?”

“These barriers have a weak point Tarra. They do not penetrate the ground. We can get through by digging underneath.”

“Oh I see.”

She joined the moggy and started pulling the dirt back with her bare hands. When a large enough gap had been created, Jerrix crawled under and Tarra soon followed.

“Stay low,” the cat whispered.

When Tarra emerged, she saw the tall buildings and tarmac of a military base. The runway was dotted with silver, sleek, strike craft, each safe from the prying eyes of the galactic forces.

“That’s what I call an airbase,” Tarra whispered.

“This lot could cause terrible trouble. We have to bring down the damn shield.”

Jerrix produced the device and ran a scan.

“No sign of the source here. That’s a nuisance.”

Tarra spotted a column of enemy troops marching towards one of the large buildings. Their hairy bodies were hunched over and their sharp talons were gripping laser rifles.

“How can they see through that brow slit?”

“Beats me,” Jerrix replied. “We really need to follow them.”

“You must be out of your tiny mind. What good would that do?”

“Locating their leader remember. Now stay low and follow me.”

Jerrix dashed toward the first building, noting the thick plate windows and patrolling guards. A small cupola lay between them and the travellers stopped behind it.

“This is a piece of luck, it’s a cooling vent.”

Tarra watched as the cat gripped the smooth sides of the domed top and twisted. She held her breath as it came off with a clang.

The guards failed to react as Jerrix peered inside.

“This should lead towards that building. Though why it’s located here is beyond me.”

She climbed inside as Tarra quickly followed. A long metallic ladder led down and the cat noted the huge rotating fan far below.

“Whatever you do my dear, just don’t fall eh?”

Tarra tried a nervous laugh that died upon her lips.

Jerrix clambered down until a horizontal shaft appeared in front of her. Carefully stepping from the ladder, she crawled inside as Tarra hesitated.

“I can’t possibly do this.”

Jerrix glanced back.

“Why not? Just close your eyes.”

She followed the instruction and soon found herself behind the intrepid hero.

“Now we crawl my dear.”

She crawled rather quickly as the conduit widened out. An occasional aperture appeared beneath them, which they simply crawled over.

“Rather a strange set up this,” the cat muttered. “It is certainly no ordinary cooling system.”

A grate now blocked their way and Jerrix thrust her shoulder against it. When it gave way, they crawled on until loud beeping noises became audible.

Stopping for a moment, the cat whispered, “Just stay close while I observe.”

Jerrix crawled on until she saw a grate underneath. Peering through, she saw a large enclosed room where a conference was underway.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What can you see?”

“The entire top brass my dear. These chaps have uniforms, unlike the ground troops. One of them is over seven feet high. I suppose that must be their president.”
She listened to the constant beeps, but could make nothing of them.

“Damn silly language anyway,” she complained.

She stuck her face against the grate and peered at the large table.
A projection of the battle clearly showed that they were winning.

“Our boys certainly need a hand my dear. With only us here, we have to reverse it.”

“It would be suicide, and you know it.”

“At least we can agree on that my dear. Now, I need to explore this cooling system more closely so back yourself up.”

Tarra slowly crawled back until she reached the ladder once more.

“Which way do you want to go?”

“Straight down of course.”

Tarra rolled her eyes.

“It would be that way.”

Jerrix once more took the lead as they descended toward the whirling fan. The suction grew stronger as they reached a ledge just above it.
Jerrix peered toward a second conduit and suddenly exclaimed, “Eureka!”

“Found something?”

“This whole planet is artificial. There’s something at the end of this conduit.”

“How could they build such a thing?”

“It must have taken then centuries of course,” Jerrix replied. “That explains their sudden appearance.”

“So they piloted it here?”

“They certainly did child. You know, we could be dealing with Andromedans.”

“You better tell our high command about this then.”

“Unfortunately the shield would stop that. Come on, more crawling to do.”

Jerrix crawled along until they entered an open space. Thankfully, it was high enough to stand up in, which they both appreciated.

“Some kind of anti chamber?”

Jerrix nodded as she peered at the metal lined walls.

“No sign of an exit. Just that peculiar circular device hanging from the roof.”

A second later, an energy bolt struck the floor and the cat grabbed Tarra roughly.

“Get back inside!”

They managed to re enter the conduit as further bolts struck.
Breathing heavily, Tarra muttered, “Not very good shots.”

“That was just a warning. Obviously they don’t want us going any further.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

Jerrix grimaced as she peeked toward the auto weapon.

“I’m certainly not going to be stopped by some pop gun. Now let me try this.”

She activated the device and set it to laser cut. Increasing the strength, she aimed carefully and fired. The laser weapon exploded into flame as Jerrix entered the chamber once more.

Reaching the far wall, she started knocking frantically.

“There must be an entrance here somewhere.”

Her paws tapped the blank wall until a hollow sound was returned.

“Found it.”

She started pressing until the hidden door suddenly rolled up.

“Now let us end this war eh?”

Jerrix found herself face to face with an immense crystalline structure. Flashing lights indicated power levels, and the structure was connected to the wall by thick pipes.

“Do you know what this is?”

Tarra shook her head.

“It’s the drive system child. Though not one I am familiar with.”

“Then don’t tinker.”

Jerrix turned sharply.

“I certainly will.”

She padded forward and studied the strange structure carefully.

The west section could well be shield and the east looks like the drive. The whole thing has been integrated.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“In truth I don’t. Call it an educated guess.”

Jerrix followed the flashing lights and mumbled to herself. Reaching out slowly, she tapped one of them. When she did this, the western lights turned red and a loud klaxon sounded.

“Done it. Now to shut the drive system down.”

Reaching toward the east section, she tapped the lights and smiled as they too turned a dull red.

“Now we can inform the high command.”

She activated her faithful device, and sent a short but succinct message.

Drive system and shield deactivated. Imperative an immediate assault is launched.

Turning quickly, she led Tarra back toward the ladder.

“We really have to leave child. The counter strike will start pretty soon. Between you and I, this is no longer a safe place to be.”

They clambered up toward the outside world where a series of deadly blasts had begun.

“Come on you,” Jerrix shouted. “Our strike craft will destroy everything.”

Emerging from the cupola, Tarra saw allied strike craft strafing the base heavily. A series of laser bolts struck the main building, which was at once enveloped in flames.

Grabbing her hand, Jerrix dashed toward the runway and suddenly spotted a seven-foot figure emerge from the burning building.

“That’s the damn leader! We have to stop him!”

The leader did not see them as he reached a strike craft and clambered inside.

“He can’t escape now!” Jerrix muttered as bolts struck the tarmac.

They dashed forward but as they reached the tarmac, Jerrix saw the strike craft rising towards the stars.

“We’ll never catch him,” Tarra said.

“You want a bet child? Come on!”

They raced for the nearest silver craft and the cat slid the cockpit open. As she climbed inside, Tarra looked petrified.

“There is no room for me.”

Jerrix gripped the seat lever and pulled, sliding the seat forward.

“Get yourself behind me right now.”

She clambered inside and the cat sealed the cockpit hood.

“We have to finish this today Tarra. Regardless of the consequences.”

Jerrix pushed the ignition, and as the craft came to life, she throttled up. The craft trundled forward with increasing velocity until the joystick was pulled back and it soared skyward.

As they reached orbit, the mighty galactic squadron began the final bomb run, screaming into the atmosphere and strafing the enemy capital.

Looking down Jerrix smiled.

“Looks like our boys are dishing it out down there.”

As the ordinance struck, buildings and laser cannons disintegrated as whole areas became a living sea of fire.

Jerrix had other things on her mind and activated the hyper drive.

The craft surged forward at extraordinary speed until the very stars seemed to vanish. The cat scanned the combat control screen and hissed.

“He is heading for Earth!”

“I think the admiral is in for one hell of a surprise,” Tarra muttered.

Jerrix spotted a nearby pulsar and smiled.

“That should produce enough sling shot.”

She aimed the craft straight at it as Tarra closed her frightened eyes. At the last second, Jerrix skewed the stick and the craft banked heavily. As it did this, it gained unbelievable velocity until a small dot appeared in the near distance.

“We have the blighter Tarra!”

Jerrix armed the cannons and fired wildly. Bolts shot from the wings and detonated near the escaping leader but he dived and swung until the explosions stopped.

“Quite an expert at this,” the cat muttered. “Never mind, I’ll soon have you.”

Jerrix dived as their craft gained upon the fleeing warlord. Tarra peeked and saw the sleek craft getting rapidly larger.

“You're not going to ram him are you?”

Jerrix glanced back.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do!”

The leader saw the threat and banked as Earth came into sharp focus.

“Oh no you don’t!” Jerrix shouted.

She pushed the stick forward and jerked it to the left, until the collision could not be avoided. The startled leader beeped twice as the nosecone smashed through his left wing.

The impact was quite sickening. As debris flew in all directions, Jerrix battled with the stick as the right wing flew off. Glancing down, she saw the enemy craft spiralling into the atmosphere.

“I can’t hold her!” she yelled as the craft lost stability at last.

Tarra found herself pushed to the floor, as the craft dived at a severe angle into the white fluffy clouds. The exterior heated rapidly until it was a bright metallic white.

“The damn heat shield had better hold,” Jerrix muttered.

Far below, the leader had his own problems. Having survived re-entry, his wounded craft lurched toward a silent village that was unaware of what was coming.

Jerrix saw the temperature gauge fall and sighed with relief.

“We made it! Now, where is he?”

She glanced down and saw the leader flying lopsided toward the village, as she too battled with her own stricken craft.

“That looks damn familiar,” she muttered.

Tarra glanced down and gasped with terrible shock.

“It’s Oakbury Jerrix! Our home.”

Jerrix just managed to level off, as the leader screamed at roof height over the country homes. His remaining wing clipped a building before the craft turned completely over.

Jerrix saw the building burst into flame and seconds later, saw the enemy craft explode as it smashed into the distant field.

“I have to put us down Tarra. Now hang on!”

She activated the remaining airbrake and brought the nose up, as a hay bale came into view.

“Soft landing I hope!” the cat screamed.

The damaged strike craft struck the soft ground before bouncing into the wall of hay. It smashed through and landed again, screeching across the field as debris was thrown aside.

“Just hold together!” the cat shouted, as the crazy ride slowed until at last, it stopped completely.

Jerrix pulled the hatch back and helped Tarra out.

“Now run for it!”

They managed to reach another bail as the ship exploded violently.
Picking themselves up now, Jerrix glanced at the burning craft and shook her head.

“We have had some lucky escapes Tarra, but never like this.”

Tarra gazed toward the nearby village and saw the column of black smoke.

“Someone’s luck just ran out. What do you think is happening on that planet?”

“A final bombardment my dear. Don’t you worry your little head. The war ends today. Nothing can survive that.”

The cat was right of course. The air bombardment continued, until the entire society was reduced to a smoking ruin. As the dust settled, the commander sent the following short message.

“Operation vengeance complete. Returning home.”

The short, second galactic war was over at last.
The travellers walked across the field as sirens rent the air.

“So Jerrix. No ship to travel in now eh? I think you should retire.
After all, we have done our bit.”

“No argument there my dear. I just want to peek at that burning building before you make me one of your brilliant carrot stews.”

They had reached a side street that led to the village green. When they arrived, firemen were busy spraying water at the obvious inferno.

Above the hellish din of the flames, Jerrix Tau heard a pitiful, yet familiar cry.

“Mama, mama, mama.”

Jerrix stopped dead.

“You can hear something,” Tarra said.

“That child again.”

The cat’s eyes opened wide.

“She’s in there Tarra. She is trapped!”

“You can’t be thinking of rescuing her?”

The cat unclipped the purple cloak and handed it over. Turning grimly she whispered, “I’m Jerrix Tau and this is what I do.”

It was as if time had slowed to a crawl. The cat dashed toward the burning building as startled firemen looked on.

“Don’t go in there!”

Jerrix ignored them as her shoulder smashed through the front door.
Picking herself up, she dashed up the stairs and swung right.

“Where are you?”

As flames crackled and thick smoke billowed, a child’s voice replied, “I’m in here.”

Jerrix kicked the door down and dashed inside. The child was dressed for bed, just as in the visions Jerrix had been seeing. She picked her up and dashed into the corridor.

As they reached it, a whorl of flame leapt up the stairs, cutting off their retreat.

“Damn it!”

Jerrix swung round and saw the window.

“It’s a calculated risk but never mind that.”

Jerrix dashed toward it as the inferno intensified. Putting the child down, she opened the window and without ceremony hung the child outside.

“Someone catch her!”

A fireman saw the rescue and dashed forward.

“Just drop her mate. I’ll catch her alright.”

At that moment, the child’s frightened eyes stared into the cat’s.

“Can you fetch my dolly?”

“Of course I will sweetheart. Get you out first eh?”

Jerrix released the child who fell through space and into the fireman’s arms. As the crowd cheered and Tarra put her palm over her mouth, Jerrix dashed back into the vacant bedroom.

The doll was lying upon the smoke damaged bed. A tall girl with long red hair and dressed in a combat suit. Jerrix smiled as the face of
Yoland drifted through her mind.

She picked it up, but as she did so, the doll sent out a heart-rendering cry.

“Mama, mama, mama.”

The cat’s blood ran cold with terrible recognition.

“That voice, those words,” she stammered. “It was the doll all along.”

She lurched into the smoke filled hall as flames reached the far ceiling. The cat’s senses picked up a terrible odour.

“That’s gas,” she muttered.

Jerrix dashed for the open window as a wall of flame shot toward her. Before it reached her, it slammed into the ruptured gas pipe and promptly detonated!

From the green, Tarra heard the mighty blast and saw with horror the building being blown apart. She fought towards the front as the crowd screamed.

“Jerrix!”

A firemen grabbed her roughly.

“It’s no use mam!”

Without thinking, Tarra Jenkins punched him so hard that the officer collapsed in pain. She dashed toward the burning mound of rubble and frantically started pulling bricks off.

To her delight, a paw came into view and she pulled the surrounding debris away.

Grabbing the paws tightly, Tarra dragged the cat free until she reached the green, and laid her down gently.

The familiar brown wrinkled skin was burnt black, and the eyes were firmly closed. She groaned with emotion until the chest started to rise and fall.

“Get a ruddy ambulance now!” She screamed.

The eyes slowly opened and a terrible burnt paw held her hand weakly.

“You ruddy fool,” Tarra said.

“It was my destiny my dear,” Jerrix whispered. “You cannot outrun that.”

“There’s an ambulance coming,” Tarra told her.

The cat glanced at the cloak and tried to smile.

“Take good care of that, but leave the fork shaped device alone eh?”

“Now they will have to build that damn memorial!” Tarra told her dying friend.

“I hope not Tarra,” Jerrix whispered. “It looked truly awful...”

Her paw fell loosely to her side and those bright, intelligent eyes went dark for the very last time.

As a fireman dashed up he said, “The ambulance is on its way mam.”

Tarra stood and gazed at the body.

“A little late for that.”

She hugged the cloak and with head bowed, wandered toward her waiting, but empty home.


Adventures of
Jerrix the Cat.
The End.

Thank you..Please have hanky ready..Tower of death is rather weepy..

Ep 1

The dark suited figure made its way over the dark path that followed the line of the stone built church. To the left, neglected war graves were covered in weeds and detritus. As he neared the apex of the Norman tower, he swung right and stopped dead.

Below his field of view, a small, blue coloured marble head stone displayed the names of his late parents. He saw the dead flowers, replacing them with living daffodils.

As he knelt in that sad, lonely place, he spoke.

“Sorry for taking so long mum and dad. I could not bring myself to visit until today. Grant is looking after Christine, at least he will look after her.”

He stopped as tears welled up, as they trickled down his ashen cheeks.

“I suppose my bedroom must be ready by now eh? The good news is, I’ll see you both sometime today. Cuddle me, won’t you? Allow me to be that child again, building sand castles.”

He stood solemnly, tears pouring down before turning away. In the far distance stood Jubilee Tower, and his final date with destiny.

As Charly entered the main foyer, he walked slowly and deliberately toward the security desk. He reached inside his funeral jacket and handed over the small, white card.

“Tell them I need full powers mate.”

As other guards watched, the receptionist dialled the seven-digit number, and spoke to the woman who took the call. A few moments later, the card was handed back. The receptionist called across a small chap in a gleaming green uniform.

“He’s with military intelligence George. Do as he asks.”

Charly tried to smile, but it died at once. They walked toward the silver lift and entered quietly.

“What floor?”

“Top mate.”

The guard punched twenty and the carriage moved slowly skyward.

“Strange place to encounter you chaps,” George said.

“We turn up in the oddest places.”

The lift stopped and Charly stepped out into a modern office. At every desk, people stared into a cold, dead, computer screen.

“Insurance?” Charly asked.

“Yes,” George replied. They occupy the top four floors.”

“Below them?”

“NHS Direct, HMSO and of course the post office.”

“So the bottom thirteen floors are empty?”

“We are new here,” George reminded him.

“Of course you are.”

Charly walked slowly toward the far wall and stopped in front of the fire alarm. Before he could be stopped, he balled his fist and smashed the thin glass. Bells rang throughout the tower and on this floor; the operators shut down their computers and stood to leave.

“What on earth did you do that for?” George asked.

“I want everyone out of here, apart from the receptionist and you.”

As the staff filed past slowly, Charly asked, “How long till the tower is empty?”

“Fifteen minutes mate. That alarm shut down the lifts.”

“That’s long enough,” Charly muttered.

The guard had a sudden thought.

“Are we facing a bomb threat?”

Charly shook his head.

“I really don’t know mate. We will have to see eh?”

With the office empty, Charly turned and saw a familiar figure staring back at him.

“Who can you see?” George asked.

“Never you mind. We should go this way I think.”

He followed the doppelganger toward the stairs and down three floors. At the far end of a corridor, the figure pointed at the wall.

“What’s behind this?” Charly asked.

“The air shaft of course. You simply remove the plate.”

Charly walked over and pulled the facia off. He found himself gazing at a huge chasm and a ladder that went in both directions. He peered and saw himself heading towards the basement.

“Come on then,” Charly said. “We have to climb now.”

The horrified guard followed the strange man into the shaft. As they headed down, the guard’s radio activated.

“Hang on a second. I have to answer this.”

Charly waited as George took the call.

“There are police and fire engines outside. They want to know what the problem is.”

Charly snatched the radio and barked, “On no account allow people inside. We don’t know what we are dealing with yet.”

A familiar voice replied at once.

“So it is you Charly.”

“DI Nixon, good chap to hear. Just keep the clots out will you?”

“I’ll try. Anything more we can do?”

“A few prayers would be in order sir.”

He switched the radio off and handed it back.

“It’s a ruddy long way down.”

He started descending rapidly, keeping the dark thoughts to himself.

Ep 2

The ladder led down the long shaft until Charly stepped onto the floor of the generating floor. He saw his angel pointing toward a series of pipes. As George joined him, the figure faded from view.

“You get all your power from here?”

“We certainly do. It’s the latest tech too. No human intervention.
All computer controlled you know.”

“Sounds quite jazzy.”

George smiled as Charly walked over to the pipes.

“What’s in those?”

George looked at the yellow colour and said, “Gas of course. We use that for heating.”

As Charly looked, he spotted something, which sent a shiver down his spine. Strapped to a hidden pipe was a small clock, embedded in a blue paste. This could only be one thing. Semtex.

Charly turned slowly.

“I’ll need your radio and a pair of wire cutters.”

George handed the radio over as Charly saw the clock hands.

“You had better hurry mate. Less than fifteen minutes to go.”

“It’s a bomb?”

“What else? Now move your arse eh?”

As George dashed off, Charly calmly activated the radio.

“Is that you Nixon? Good. Listen. We have a damn bomb and I need you to clear the area.”

He switched it off and watched as the clock ticked rapidly down. As George returned with the cutters, Charly was sweating.

“Now get yourself out of here.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Try and defuse it of course.”

George took his sweating palm.

“Good luck mate.”

As he ran back to the ladder, Charly gazed at the two wires.

“If I had built this ruddy thing I would contra connect. So, red should be neutral and blue should be live.”

He waited, hearing the clatter as George climbed the ladder toward the ground floor. As minutes ticked down, he activated the radio once more.

“Is everyone out Nixon?”

“Some bloke is running out now.”

“That is the guard. Can you do me a favour?”

“Anything. Just name it.”

“Tell my cat that I’m sorry.”

The radio went dead as Charly shut it off.

Memories of childhood flooded through his tortured mind, as the clock reached thirty seconds. With trembling fingers, he moved the cutters around the red wire.

“Here goes for naught.”

Back at the flat, Grant was watching the entire event upon the television screen. The female reporter was giving a blow-by-blow account.

“It seems that a member of military intelligence is still inside. DI Nixon has confirmed a bomb has been discovered, and that an attempt is being made to defuse it. As you know, this tower was opened just in time to commemorate the queen’s diamond jubilee. I can see the sleek tower now, cold and silent, as everyone prays...Oh my god!!!!!”
Grant screamed too, as a huge explosion blew the monstrosity to kingdom come.

Watching from the sofa headrest, Christine yelped and meowed her sad lament....