An Act of Betrayal And Deception
There
had been a change in Number 2, now a portly man, balding, a man very much of
the old school tie brigade, and dressed in the usual attire for the Chairman of
The Village. He sat alone in his office. and had just been speaking with his
superior, Number 1 on the telephone, who was far from happy with the current
situation in The Village. There had been no fewer than eight recent deaths, citizens
who had been found murdered and Number 2 was being held responsible. Not that
he was the murderer, but Number 1 did expect him to resolve the situation
within the week. And true to form he was under a considerable amount of
pressure from all sides who wanted to know what he was going to do about it. And
as if his situation was not bad enough, the pair of steel doors opened, and the
tall athletic figure of Number 6 marched down the ramp and approached the desk.
“I can’t be doing with you today Number Six,
why don’t you go and bother someone else!”
“There have been eight deaths in The Village,
all of them murdered, what are you doing
about it?” barked Number 6, leaning across the desk.
“I am doing what I can” returned Number 2.
“Well you seem to be doing precious little!”
“What can I do? There have been no
witnesses, there has been little or no forensics. I have increased security and
surveillance, the number of guardians on patrol have been increased. Anyway why
do you care all of a sudden, about what happens to the citizens?”
“I don’t, but innocent people have been
murdered.”
Number 2 picked up a pathology report on
his desk “They all died the same way.”
“Each victim had his or her neck broken,
snapped like a twig it seems. You have a serial killer on your hands” Number 6
said, having the knack of reading reports upside down.
“Instead of criticising all the time, why
don’t you do something completely out of character for a change and help!” Number
2 suggested.
“You, with all this technology at your
finger tips, with Observers who see and hear everything, you need my help. The
very least you should have done by now is to identify the killer” laughed Number
6.
“Like it or not Number Six we are in the
same boat. You, me, the citizens, all of us.”
Number 6 stood back, the sudden realisation
of the situation “You do, you have a serial killer in The Village and you don’t
know who it is.”
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“What do you think we are Number Six,
stupid or something? Of course we know who it is, the trouble is we haven’t found
a way of neutralising it yet” returned Number 2, now wanting to confide in the
Prisoner.
“Then don’t you think its time you did…. you
said ‘it,’ “it” suggests something that isn’t human” Number 6 suggested pacing
the floor.
“That’s because it isn’t human….it’s the Guardian!”
Number 6 stopped pacing the floor “That
white membranic thing isn’t capable of breaking necks, it suffocates its
victims. So why don’t you just deactivate it?”
“We would if we could, only we have no
control over it as this particular segment is resisting. And so far our scientists,
and bio-chemists and technicians don’t know how or why the Guardian has metamorphosed into human form” Number 2 explained.
It was at that moment that the yellow ‘L’
shaped telephone on the desk began to bleep.
Number 2 picked up the phone up “Yes what
is it, what do you want?” said a man under a deal of pressure.
“Supervisor here.”
“If you have phoned me to inform me that
someone is attempting to escape, I don’t want to hear it” snapped Number 2.
“An escape sir, no it’s not an escape,
quite the opposite in fact” returned the Supervisor.
“Then what is it?”
“A white sports car has just turned down
the long drive and is fast approaching The Village” reported the Supervisor.
“What! Why didn’t Post Fourteen report this
sooner?” Number 2 snapped his question.
The Supervisor-Number 106 waited and drew
in a deep breath, then spoke in a heavy German accent “Post Fourteen has not
reported in for over an hour sir. So I sent security to investigate, Post Fourteen
was found dead, his neck had been broken.”
This latest news stunned Number 2 “Very
well, where is this car now?”
In the Control Room the Supervisor watched
the car’s progress upon the wall screen “Winding its way along the drive, it’s
almost here.”
“When the car arrives have security take the
occupants to a secure area and then wait for me” Number 2 ordered, switching
off his phone.
“Having a bad day?” Number 6 smirked “this
must be a first for any Number Two, someone who is actually driving to The Village.
Surely that shouldn’t be possible.”
“It shouldn’t” 2 agreed.
“I know, they’re tourists who have
been given the wrong directions by some country yokel.
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“If truth be told, my day has just begun to
improve, so what about it Number Six?”
“What about what?”
“You can see the pressure I am under, I’ve
decided to promote you to the position of my assistant.”
Number 6 burst out laughing “You promote me
as your assistant, what happened to.....oh yes he was the first victim!”
“I attended his funeral. If you don’t want
the job you had better get out” Number 2 told him indignantly.
Number 6 turned and walked towards the pair
of steel doors “What you’re just going to sit there?”
“All that can be done is being done.”
“Fine, then you won’t need my help after
all, will you?”
The pair of steel doors opened then closed behind
the departing Number 6.
The oversized red curved telephone began to bleep he picked it up “Number Two here sir…… a car sir” he said pressing a button on the control panel “yes sir I have it on screen now, it’s almost here...... security will apprehend the driver......I see sir, well I will sir, in the closest possible touch.”
In the white sports car, driven by a middle
aged man wearing a sports jacket and grey polo shirt, his wife also middle aged
sat in the passenger seat, wearing a low cut summer dress and a head scarf.
“How
much further? We’ve been driving for miles with no sight nor sound of anyone or
anything, I could murder a G and T” Lesley said, having gazed out on the same
monotonous countryside for the past three hours.
“Nearly there darling, less than a couple
of miles now, look there’s the castle I told you about” replied her husband,
bringing the car to a halt at a fork in the road.
“Where exactly are we?”
“That my darling is Castell Deudraeth. Its
part of the Italianate village I was telling you about. Looks like the restoration
work has been completed” observed her husband.
The white sports car turned down the left
fork and wound its way along the narrow hydrangea lined road towards
Portmeirion.
“Are you sure this is the way, there hasn’t
been a sign post for miles?” his wife asked him.
“Relax darling I know the way.”
And that was the peculiar thing, there hadn’t been a sign post for miles, and yet there were all the familiar surroundings to be seen. He had simply followed the roads because he knew the way to where they were going. After all he had been there many times before and once there he wanted his wife to enjoy the peaceful, tranquil atmosphere of the village for herself. The late summer sunshine filtered through the trees which now flanked either side of the road, as he drove the sports car expertly round every bend in the road approaching the toll booth.
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“It is rather quiet darling” his wife said
“The hotel is rather exclusive at this time
of the year.”
“Yes, but how exclusive?”
“Portmeirion, it’s an Italianate Village,
built by Sir Clough Williams-Ellis, he was an architect you know.”
“No I didn’t know.”
“Portmeirion has all the amenities one
could want, an outdoor swimming pool, long walks in the woods, its set on an
estuary. The Hotel sports good food and fine wines, there’s even a golf course
nearby, you’ll love it darling. It will be like a second honeymoon, only
better” her husband suggested.
In the Control room the Supervisor stood
watching as security waited to take the two occupants of the sports car in
hand. Picking up the yellow ‘L’ shaped telephone he reported the situation to
Number 2. Still watching the screen the Supervisor’s head was full of questions
“Where had this car come from? Who were the two occupants?” No-one has ever arrived
here like this before! Was it merely a question of them being lost?”
“Supervisor, a white figure running at
tremendous speed along the road in the direction of the car” reported an
observer.
“De-activate Rover immediately” the Supervisor
ordered.
“The Guardian has not been activated Supervisor,
that thing out there……”
The white sports car turned the final bend
in the road and the engine began to cough and splutter, then through the trees
the blinding glare of afternoon sunshine just for a second or two but long
enough for the driver not to see the white membranic figure until it was too
late. The driver pulled hard on the steering wheel as the white figure bounced
off the bonnet, its smooth featureless face pressed up hard against the
windscreen for a second, before the sports car swerved off the road, ploughed
through ferns and bushes, before crashing into a tree. Steam hissed from the
smashed radiator, the windscreen shattered, the car crumpled beyond repair. The
driver slumped over the steering wheel, blood slowly trickling from an open
wound, while the passenger her head lay to one side, both unmoving, both
unconscious.
“Emergency, emergency, emergency,
emergency” announced the Supervisors voice through The Village public address
system “emergency, emergency, security and medics to crash site on east road. Warning,
the mutant Guardian is reported to be in the area.”
The white membranic figure was standing by the wreckage when suddenly there came the sound of sirens, as the first of the two white Mini-Mokes came round the bend in the road. The white figure ran off into the woods. The two ambulances stopped, four armed security guards jumped out to secure the area, while four medics attended to the two people in the car. They were unconscious but still alive. Stretchers were taken from the two Red Cross trailers towed behind the taxis, and the two unconscious bodies carried on the stretchers and placed in the trailers, then driven away to the hospital where doctors and nurses stood by.
First there was pain, then light, as the
patient slowly opened his eyes trying to focus on the pair of dark shadowy
figures standing over him.
“A nasty head injury nurse, and badly
concussed he’s lucky to still be with us” the doctor said.
“Doctor, the patient is opening his eyes”
said a nurse.
The patient leaned up and opened his mouth
to speak, but no words issued forth. The doctor saw the anxiety upon the
patient’s face.
“Lie back and rest, you are in hospital, the
woman who was with you is in another ward, she has yet to regain consciousness.”
The patient laid back and closed his eyes.
“Take care of him nurse, I’ll see how the
woman is doing and I’ll inform Number Two that the man has regained
consciousness.”
“Very
well doctor.”
The nurse’s attention was then distracted
for a moment by a patient in another bed, not for long, but it was long enough
for Leslie Kern to pull back the sheets and swing his legs out of bed. He sat
up and the pain in his head made him feel physically sick. Through blurred
eyesight he could see that he was indeed in a hospital ward, but which hospital
and where was his wife? The patient climbed out of bed and took a few unsteady
paces forward and was about to collapse in a heap on the floor when a pair of
strong hands caught him. Two male orderlies carried the patient back to his
bed, the nurse tucked him in while the doctor was sent for.
“Keep him under close observation nurse, if
he gets out of bed again sedate him” the doctor ordered.
The patient lay there in bed. He was trying to remember, a long winding narrow lane, hydrangeas, his wife, the glare of the late summer sunshine through the trees. There’s something wrong with the engine. In the road ahead, a face, smooth, no eye sockets, no nose, no mouth only smooth ahhh………..came the scream. Two male medics rushed into the ward and restrained the patient as he struggled and screamed. The nurse hurried to prepare a syringe, its needle inserted into the patient’s upper left arm, a sharp sensation then a strange feeling as if he was floating away, floating way into oblivion!
Morning sunshine streamed in through the
window catching him full in the face. Slowly Leslie sat up and brushed back his
hair wincing as he touched something tender, in his head a little man going
ten to the dozen with a hammer. Pulling back the sheets he gingerly
climbed out of bed. Donning his dressing gown he crossed the bedroom to the
mirror, he looked drawn and haggard. On his forehead was a large dressing which
he pulled away to reveal a nasty head wound. Touching it, he winced with pain
and replaced the dressing. Then at the window he looked out upon the familiar
view of the Italianate
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“Number please?” asked a female operator.
“Three hundred” Leslie replied, funny he’d
never been asked that before.
“Hello” said Number 300 having lifted the
telephone receiver to her ear.
“Reception, good…….”
“Yes I can hear you young man” Number 300
confirmed.
“What?” he asked.
“You asked if the reception was good and I
told you that I can hear you, what do you want young man?” asked 300.
“I am trying to get through to Reception”
Leslie replied.
“Well you seem to be getting through
alright, I can hear you.”
“Tell me who are you?” asked Leslie, who
suddenly realised that he had been put through to one of the other cottages by
mistake.
“I am Number three hundred.”
Leslie put down the receiver and tried
again.
“Number please?” asked the female voice
again.
“Can you put me through to Reception
please?” he asked.
“Reception?” queried the operator.
“Yes, the main reception, or the Hotel’s Reception
if you prefer” he said getting a little irritated.
“What hotel reception?” asked the operator.
“The hotel here at Portmeirion” he
demanded.
“There is no hotel sir. This is The
Village” the Operator informed him.
He put down the receiver. Stupid girl, he thought, you just can’t get the staff these days! Oh well it was a lovely morning, a walk to reception wouldn’t do him any harm. Having washed, shaved and dressed in the only clothes in the wardrobe he was just about to leave his apartment and set off for reception when the door opened and the figure of Number 2 stood in the doorway.
195
“Glad to see you up and about at long last,
not too many ill effects I trust?”
“Who the devil are you, the maid or something,
I was just on my way out, and where’s my wife?”
“I assure you I am not the maid. Aren’t you
going to invite me in?” asked Number 2 crossing the threshold into the lounge.
“I suspect a man like you wouldn’t
wait to be invited in.”
“Perhaps we could talk over breakfast” Number
2 suggested.
It was at this point a maid dressed
in a dark blue dress, white lacy apron, and white sailor’s cap entered carrying
a breakfast tray. In the kitchen the maid laid out the breakfast things on the
kitchen table, curtsied, saluted Number 2 and departed the cottage.
“Just like a real home from home don’t you
think?” asked Number 2.
“Portmeirion you mean?” watching the man
help himself to toast.
“Is that is where you think you are?” asked
Number 2, busy buttering a slice of toast.
“Where else would I be?” asked Leslie
sitting down at the table.
“In the Village” Number 2 told him.
“The
Village! Where’s that?” he asked glancing at the white penny farthing badge
upon the man’s left lapel of his blazer “you I take it are Number Two?”
“And you are Number Fifty-five, that’s the
introductions dispensed with. It can be quite a shock at first we understand
that. It’s a pity we didn’t know you were coming, otherwise we would have
prepared your cottage better for you.”
“Look
where is my wife and what have you done with my clothes?” Number 55
bellowed.
“We know all about you Doctor Leslie Kern, but
in the photographs we have of you, you are wearing spectacles.”
“I changed to wearing contact lenses two
months ago, now what about my wife and my clothes?”
Number 2 took his computer slate from his blazer
pocket and made a note directly into Number 55’s file “As for your clothes,
they have been put into storage. As for where you are, well you have been told,
that’s all you need to know” answered Number 2 eating his buttered toast “Are
you going to let that breakfast go cold?”
“And
my wife?”
“She came off rather worse than you in the
car crash” Number 2 said pouring himself a cup of tea “You are Doctor Leslie
Kern. You and your wife were on holiday and you were on your way to where… to
where?”
“To a village in North Wales.”
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“Have you looked out of the window this
morning?”
Leslie walked over to the window and
pulled the curtain apart.
“Lovely view isn’t it, and you will be
interested to learn that you do not just happen to be here.”
“You say that I was brought here. Well
there was only myself and my wife in the car and I was driving, so Number Two
or whoever you are, no one brought me here” Number 55 confirmed.
“You
came here of your own free will. Better and better” said Number Two.
“I
want to see my wife, please take me to her” Number 55 demanded.
“That’s not possible, your wife is no
longer with us!” Number 2 told him.
“Lesley dead. No it’s not possible, she
can’t be dead.”
“The doctors did what they could.”
Number 55 sat at the table his head buried
in his hands.
“The funeral was yesterday, everything was
seen to be done correctly” Number 2 assured him.
He looked up at the man standing over him “Yesterday.
Why so soon. Why were you in so much a hurry to bury my wife?”
“So soon? Oh I see what you mean, you’ve
been here over a week.”
“Then
perhaps I could see my wife’s grave?”
“Of course, in a day or so when you are
feeling more up to it” retorted Number 2 “and then we shall talk again, about
you and your
future
with us. You have let your breakfast get cold!
Number 2 took his leave of the cottage
leaving Number 55 alone with his grief, but it was not long before the door
opened once more. A cheery young maid dressed in a dark blue dress, lace apron,
a sailor’s hat and deck shoes walked into the kitchen.
“Who are you?”
“I’m your personal maid” Number 23 said, a
pretty young blonde, smiled at him.
“You’re
not you know, get out!” he barked sweeping his arm across the kitchen table
sweeping the breakfast things onto the floor.
The maid very nearly jumped out of
her skin “Now look what you have done, I expect you think I’m going to clear up
that mess!”
“You’re the housemaid!”
Number 2 had by this time returned to his
office where the Supervisor- Number 28 was waiting for him.
“How is the new arrival coming along?”
asked the Supervisor “he didn’t exactly follow the usual behaviour pattern.”
“We shall give him time to settle in, to
get used to his new
surroundings,
and then we shall put him to work.”
“Time is what we don’t have” returned the Supervisor.
“No-one is more aware of that than me,
except for you. We’ll give him until tomorrow morning! ” retorted Number 2
taking to his chair.
“And how do you know that this Doctor of Genetics will help with our current problem?”
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Number 2 shot the Supervisor a casual glance
“Because the man is grieving for his dead wife and the best remedy for grief is
work. And we shall keep him fully occupied. A challenge like this, he won’t be
able to stop himself. Besides when push comes to shove he will have no say in
the matter!” He picked up a file of latest reports and began to read through
the top one “I take it the latest attempt to establish control over this mutant
Guardian failed?”
“It’s in the report, every attempt has
failed. Yet there have been no further attacks, but the creature has been seen.
Once by Number 36 who saw the creature looking in at her through the cottage
window” the Supervisor reported.
Number 2 put down the file of reports he
had been scanning through, in exasperation “How can something with no eyes
see?”
“I don’t know Number Two. Surveillance has
been increased and all posts, as well as The Village are on permanent yellow
alert.”
“Good, and have the curfew time brought
forward two hours” Number 2 ordered, closing the file leaning forward he
pressed a button on the control panel.
A face appeared on the wall screen, a
technician wearing spectacles and a white coat looked into the lens of the
camera.
“So far containment of the Guardian on the
seabed is one hundred percent. If we can replicate such a containment area on
land, we could possibly lure the mutant Guardian into it.”
“What would that take?” asked Number 2.
“Possibly a high voltage electrical force
field” Number 250 suggested.
“To
simply contain it, not to regain control of it?”
“We have been working on a section of
membrane” 250 reported, in an attempt to understand how the mutation of its
genetic make-up came about. Each time we have come even close, the mutant
membrane alters and mutates again. It is likely that the best result we can
arrive at, is containment and eventual complete eradication of the creature.”
“I have good news for you, help is at hand.
One of the World’s top geneticists has recently arrived in The Village. He
requires a little time to come to terms with his new surroundings. But I assure
you he will join you all in your work tomorrow. For now, carry on working
towards this electrical containment field of yours.”
“Yes Number Two” 250 said turning away from
the screen and back to his work.
Pressing a button on the control panel of
his desk, the wall screen went dark.
“What about destroying this mutation?”
We must put our faith in this
geneticist to either alter the genetic makeup of the membrane, or find a way to
destroy it totally. Now I am sure you have duties to attend to in the Control
Room.”
198
“Yes Number Two” but remained standing
where he was.
Number 2 picked up the telephone and looked
at the Supervisor “Any reason you are still here?”
“Number Six sir, it appears he has been
sticking his nose in, asking questions in the wrong quarter.”
“Well whatever else we have to contend
with, there is always Number Six” Number 2 said, his hand over the mouthpiece
of the telephone.
“Whatever he is he is resilient, keeps a
cool head, works best when under extreme pressure and he has an absolute knack
of dealing with the unknown, a good man to have on our side on any terms, wouldn’t
you say?”
Number 2 nodded, the Supervisor turned and
left the office.
“Yes sir, Number Two here…… I
understand that but now with the help of doctor Kern….. yes I did offer Number
Six the position as my assistant as you suggested but he turned it down…. Yes
sir I give you my word in two days at most………. yes sir I realise all our futures
depend upon it.”
Number 55 had left his cottage and was
wandering about taking in his new surroundings. He stood in the middle of the
road observing the passers-by, when a white Mini-Moke drove towards him.
Stepping to one side he flagged the taxi down.
“Where to sir?” asked the taxi driver.
“Take
me to, no wait…. Take me to the cemetery” he said climbing aboard the Mini
Moke.
The driver released the hand brake and
engaging first gear drove off down the street, passed the Town Hall, and down
the hill towards the Old People’s Home. Then taking a hairpin bend the taxi was
driven down a slipway onto the sand and sped along the beach.
“I asked you to take me to the cemetery.”
“Yes, and that is where we are going, won’t
be long now sir” the driver told him
At the cemetery headstones and crosses so
often buffeted by the sea, rose out of the sand. Climbing out of the taxi
Number 55 stood looking at the headstones, he was looking for a most recent
one.
“Do
you want me to wait?” asked the driver.
There were two new headstones amongst
the grey sea worn markers, both with numbers, no names. A cemetery, here on the
beach, he imagined what a watery grave it must be at times.
“Do you want a ride back to the
village sir, or will you walk?”
“Can you take me to the nearest
town?”
“We are only the local service.”
“Then I shall walk” he said.
“That will be two units then.”
“Units?”
“Oh never mind, pay me next time” the
driver told him.
He stood watching the Mini-Moke
disappear across the sand back in
the direction of the Village.
198
A tall figure now emerged from the
rocks.
“Looking for someone specific?” asked Number 6
Leslie
looked at the man walking towards him “My wife, she died a few days ago. I
think she lies there.”
Number 6 looked towards the headstones “How
do you know that your wife is buried here”
“Number Two told me she had died. We were
on our way here.... I was driving, there was a car crash my wife died.”
“You were driving here, a new one on me!”
said Number 6 in surprise.
“Well we weren’t driving here exactly. I have no idea how we came
to be here. Look I’ve been through
this already. Now I’ve you on my back. Can’t you leave me alone?”
“You didn’t attend the funeral?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know your wife is
dead?”
“I have Number Two’s word.”
“When you’ve been here long enough
you will learn that Number Two’s word is worth very little. We had better go.”
Number 6 lead the way up to the top of the
cliffs passed a small lighthouse.
Leslie turned to face Number 6 “What’s
your game?
“You’re new here Fifty-five. Just because Number
Two tells you something, it doesn’t always follow that that something is
correct. When he says your wife is dead it doesn’t make it so.”
“I’m no number, my name is Leslie Kern.”
“No names are used here. You are Number
Fifty-Five, I am Number Six.”
“Well Number Six, what makes you think that
my wife could still be alive?”
“Experience of Number Two”
They made their way back to The
Village via the quayside.
“And you, are you working with Number
Two, assigned to me?”
“Its nothing to me I assure you, nor am I Number
Two’s man, it’s just curiosity because no one simply drives here to The Village.
They wouldn’t have allowed you passed the post guarding the Outer Zone.”
“If you are not Number Two’s assistant, who
are you?” Number 55 demanded.
“A prisoner just like you!”
“I’m
not a prisoner!” barked 55.
“Yes you keep telling yourself that!” Number 6 told him “and
remember, no-one arrives at The Village without good reason!”
Having returned to The Village Number 6 was
about to cut the lost and forlorn figure of Number 55 loose, but then........
“Like a coffee?” asked Number 6 stopping at
the cafe.
Number 55 nodded taking the offered seat at
a vacant table.
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“Two coffees” Number 6 asked the waitress.
“Is this place for real, all these people
in their colourful clothes, taxis which won’t take you anywhere other than
here” Number 55 asked.
The waitress returned carrying two coffees
“That will be four Credit Units.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Too long!”
“You have never tried to escape?”
“You will soon learn there is no
escape.”
“That is defeatist talk!”
They drank their coffee.
“You haven’t been here five minutes,
you’ll learn” Number 6 told him.
“And the people here?”
“Prisoners here for one reason or
another, people who will rot here until the day they die, and then there are
the guardians!”
They finished their coffee.
“Number 2 says that he knows all about me,
he said that I was brought here, that
they have a use for such a man as I!”
“What is it you did on the outside?” asked
Number 6 rising from the table.
“I am a mathematician” Number 55 answered.
Meanwhile on the other side of The Village a
girl was busy selling a bouquet of flowers to Number 54, a stout woman in a
yellow hat.
“For old Mrs Seventy-five are they? She’s ninety-three today, a marvellous age” said the girl busy handing over the wrapped flowers. Number 54 handed over her card and sniffed the flowers. The card handed back to her she walked off along the path with her purchase, completely unaware of the white figure watching from its place of concealment in the bushes. To say the figure resembled that of a man would not be an exaggeration, he was nearly seven feet tall, bald but there the resemblance ended. For the figure was white from head to foot. Where the eyes, mouth, and nose should have been there was nothing but smooth membrane. The flower seller was busying herself with the display on her stall, it was a warm afternoon, but suddenly something made the blood in her veins run cold as she sensed something behind her, something in the bushes. Number 11could have run, she should have run, run for her very life, but she was paralysed to the spot as the thing suddenly sprang from the undergrowth Arms outstretched it was upon her in an instant, its membranic hands around her throat suffocating the scream trying to escape.
In the Control Room...... “Supervisor the
flower seller Number Eleven has been attacked.”
201
“All cameras scan” ordered the Supervisor
picking up a grey ‘L’ shaped telephone “yellow alert, all units all posts
yellow alert. Despatch armed security immediately. Get me Number Two.”
On the wall screen was the image of the flowers seller’s stall and lying on the gravelled path was the dead girl Number 11. A Mini-Moke carrying four armed security guards in blue overalls and white helmets, boots, gloves and sporting dark glasses sped through The Village, its siren blaring out. Citizens stepped to the side of the road to let it pass. Arriving on the scene, security both searched and secured the immediate area. An ambulance with two medics aboard, towing a Red Cross trailer arrived in order to collect the body of Number 11.
Number 2 was on his way to the Town Hall
via the underground tunnel when he got the call, his mobile phone playing the
ringtone ‘The Good, The Bad and The Ugly’.
“Number Two here, what’s occurring?”
“Another attack sir, and another fatality
I’m sorry to have to report, Number Eleven the flower seller.”
“Despatch security and have the immediate
area secured, scan and maintain scanning for the mutant until I give orders to
the contrary and put the entire village on yellow alert.”
“All this has been and is being done” reported
the supervisor “Control Room is now ready for you.”
“I’ll be right there” retorted Number 2
switching off his mobile.
Meanwhile in the Control Room an Observer reported seeing the white membranic figure disappearing into the woods heading towards the northern perimeter. An attempt to contact Post 10 on the northern perimeter was made, Post 10 did not respond! Later Post 10 was found. His high powered rifle empty, his neck broken! But despite all the surveillance available, and the searches made by security, the mutant Guardian was not to be found.
The following morning Number 2 paced the
floor of his office, his face was deeply pensive and there was a general air of
nervousness about him. The steel doors slid open and the tall bald-headed Butler
stood at the top of the ramp as Number 55 walked slowly down the ramp with a
nervous feeling of foreboding.
“Number Fifty-five to see you” announced the
butler.
“And?” asked Number 2.
“There’s no and. I have to announce
your visitors, it’s in me contract” the butler replied with a smile “will you
be wanting tea?”
“No, Fifty-five is not making a social
call” Number 2 replied.
“Well now Number Fifty-five, thank you for
finding the time to pay me a call…”
“Cut the flannel, you made it quite clear
that I had absolutely no choice in the matter” sneered 55.
Number 2 smiled inwardly to himself “Quite. So seeing that we are telling it like it is this morning, and speaking of matter, what do you make of that?” Number 2 asked pointing to the wall screen.
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Number 55 turned and looked at the large wall screen which displayed what looked to be orange globules and long streaks of wax rising and falling in a liquid of some kind, very similar to that of a Lava lamp.
“I have seen that effect before, in the
Lava lamps in my apartment, I see that you have two of your own” observed Number
55 “surely you didn’t bring me here to just show me that.”
“Indeed I did, it is why you were brought
here Doctor Kern” Number 2 confirmed.
‘Then
you must have an inordinate amount of time to waste on such foolishness!’ the
Doctor sneered.
“I assure you Doctor I am not given to
wasting time, nor is that” again pointing to the screen “what you assume it to
be, is far from it in fact. Please Doctor study the screen.”
“What you are looking at Doctor is
genetically engineered matter, membrane if you prefer. It is being held in its
containment area at the bottom of the sea. It looks malevolent doesn’t it, as
though it would do harm once released, and of course it would if it was not
fully under our control”’ Number 2 explained.
“What exactly is it?” asked the Doctor.
“I told you, it’s genetically engineered
matter” Number 2 answered.
“So man has been meddling again has he? A
slippery slope for mankind, no good will come of it you can be assured of
that!” said the Doctor turning away from the screen.
“Strange talk for a geneticist Doctor Kern,
is it not?”
“What good can come out of that?”
“You see Doctor we have a small problem
which you can help us with” said Number 2.
“And why should I want to do that?” snapped
the Doctor.
“Oh please, I had hoped that you would not
be difficult about this. Let me assure you that we have many ways and means at
our disposal, don’t make me use an extreme measure” was Number 2’s threat.
Doctor Kern thought for a moment, he looked
at the man sat behind the desk and then at the wall screen “Very well, I’ll at
least listen to what you have to say. Please go on.”
“Nice of you to see it that way Doctor, our problem is that since a segment of membrane was released from the containment area the Guardian has gone rogue, more than that it has metamorphosed into human form over which we have no control. We attempted to deactivate it and return it to the containment area. It refused, and somehow, we don’t know how, but it has mutated. More than that it has taken on the psychology of a serial killer, eleven people so far have been murdered by it! Your task doctor is to capture and contain, and discover the cause of the mutation of the Guardian. I, and the community find ourselves totally in your hands.”
Doctor Kern paced up and down weighing this
up in his mind.
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“I’m not at all sure I can help you!”
“Then let me to assure you Doctor that by
hook or by crook you will help us in every way possible” Number 2 told him,
feeling the anger welling up within him.
“It seems you have made a slight mistake Number
Two, you see….”
“No Doctor it is you who is making the mistake,
the mistake of crossing me” roared Number 2, losing his temper and telling the
Doctor just how it is “we have gone to a great deal of trouble in having you
brought here, this due to your expertise in genetics, so having gone to so much
trouble it is my sworn duty to see that you do assist us in every possible way,
with or without your conscious cooperation!”
“Threaten me all you like, there is
absolutely nothing you can do to make me cooperate, permit me to explain….”
“Doctor I do not wish to harm you, perhaps
we could make a deal in exchange for your co-operation.”
“Tell me Number Two, do you and your people
ever make mistakes?”
Number 2 wondered where this discussion was
going “We never fail if that is what you mean.”
“That’s hardly the same thing” Doctor
Leslie Kern said.
“Enough, you have twenty four hours in which to reconsider your position Doctor Kern. Do not force me to take steps” Number 2 threatened “good day.”
Number 6 was enjoying a cup of coffee sat at
a table upon the lawn of the Old People’s Home, it was a beautiful day,
citizens enjoying themselves on the beach sun bathing, digging sand castles or
paddling in the shallow gullies of water left by the out going tide. The Admiral
and his flag officer sailing model Battleships. A red and white striped kiosk
set out on the beach was doing a small trade in selling beach balls, and senior
citizens were clambering about the rigging of the Stone Boat as always. And Number
6, he was completing The Tally Ho crossword in record time, eleven minutes! It
was a seemingly perfectly ordinary day in The Village, but yet there was still
the underlying danger of the mutant, which could in all probability strike at
any time. Then from across the lawn Number 6 observed the figure of Number 55
walking straight towards him. At his table Number 6 offered him the vacant
chair as he put his newspaper and pen down.
“You look as if you’re having a bad day” Number
6 observed, knowing full well that any day in The Village could be a bad day.
“You
could say that, and my situation can only get worse but to no fault of my own”
55 replied.
“Can I help?” Number 6 offered.
“Not unless you have any influence over Number
Two, who is about to force me into helping him solve this mutation problem of
his.”
“What’s wrong in that, at least you will be
helping to save citizens lives.”
“Number 2 has allowed me twenty four hours in which to reconsider my position.”
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“And are you?” asked Number 6 casually.
“Am I what?”
“Reconsidering your position?”
“It wouldn’t do any good if I did. You see
I am not the person Number Two has taken me for.”
“And who does Number Two think you are?”
“Doctor Leslie Kern.”
“Well you are, you told me that much
yourself”’ Number 6 said becoming just a little intrigued.
“Yes, Doctor Leslie Kern…. Mathematician,
not a geneticist as Number Two believes. My wife, Doctor Lesley Kern she is,
was, the
Geneticist
only now she lying in a grave in the cemetery, thankfully beyond the grasp of Number
Two. So you see my predicament don’t
you?”
“And yet......” Number 6 said thoughtfully.
“And yet what?”
“There are not enough new graves in
the cemetery!”
“Meaning?”
“If your wife isn’t dead, the opposite of
dead is....”
“Alive!”
“No, it’s not possible. I brought my wife here, well obviously
not here, I thought that here was another place. No I can’t believe that, my
wife would ever betray me. She is, was, devoted to me, and I her. No it’s you,
you’re playing mind games with me. You’ve been working with Number Two all
along. I can’t trust you any more than I can him” 55 said accusingly.
“You may well be right. But perhaps your
wife found a way out of The Village, in exchange for you!” was Number 6’s suggestion “after all you are here and she
isn’t.”
Later that day Doctor Kern was
walking the cliffs considering his position. He stopped, looked out to sea then
uttered one word which drifted away on the breeze.
“Lesley!”
The pair of steel doors opened and Number 6
brushed passed the bald-headed butler and down the ramp like so many times
before to lean on the desk and face the man sitting in the chair, Number 2.
“I
thought I said I was not to be disturbed!” barked Number 2.
“Doctor
Leslie Kern!” barked Number 6 in return.
“I know, it’s a tragedy?”
“You pushed him too far. Together you and
his wife drove the man to suicide, and besides which you made a mistake.”
Number 2 looked at his visitor “What
mistake, if you believe that cock and bull story about him being a
mathematician.”
Number 6 nodded in confirmation “His wife
Doctor Lesley Kern is the geneticist. Her husband Doctor Leslie Kern was a mathematician.”
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“She assured me…..”
“And you believed her! Doctor Lesley
Kern geneticist, swapped identities with her husband and you got the wrong one.
Made a deal with you did she, agreeing to give you her husband in exchange for
her freedom. The car accident must have been a godsend. You faked her death and
with her husband tucked up in hospital there wasn’t even the need for a funeral,
just a fake grave!”
Number 2 sat back in his chair hardly able
to comprehend what had happened “Everything was carefully gone into and
meticulously planned..
“Well it’s a mistake anyone could have made
I suppose, a simple administrative clerical error” Number 6 grinned with an air
of self satisfaction.
“Clerical error?” Number 2 demanded.
Number 6 spelt it out to him “Doctor Lesley
Kern, as in Lesley not Leslie, same first names, different
spellings… as I say, a simple clerical error!”
“Get
out, get out, get out!’ bellowed Number 2.
“Certainly.”
Number 6 strolled up the ramp towards the already opening doors, leaving Number 2 ferreting under his desk for two files. He flipped the files open and examined the names therein. Number 6 paused, looked back for a moment, then passed through the open doors. Leaving Number 2 staring into space!
The silver grey Alouette helicopter
approached the village from the far side of the estuary, the pilot slowed the
approach as he prepared to land on the triangular lawn by the sea wall. Grey
floats touched down and the rotor blades began to slow and the Perspex cabin
door was opened. An ambulance was standing, as were two medics who walked forward
carrying a stretcher between them. An unconscious woman was lifted out of the
helicopter and placed onto the stretcher and covered with a blanket. The woman
stirred, she opened her eyes, there was a shadow across her. Focusing her eyes
she saw.......
“Welcome back to the Village Doctor Kern, we have been waiting for you”
Number 2 told her.
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