Blurred Vision: Seven billion voices about to be silenced Read online

  ‘Tell me, Mark, what really happened at Stanford?’ he asked. ‘We knew all about your findings. In fact we were about to ask you to come and work for us, but things went wrong at the press conference, didn’t they.’ He moved closer towards the Professor. ‘Tell us, why was the conference cut short, and why the blackout?’

  Mark squeezed the back of his neck with his right hand in an attempt to calm himself. He pursed his lips as the pain in his skull soared. He felt betrayed at the sudden assault. It was common sense that the military would know of any major technological advancements, he knew this. A lot of the work he had done over the years was probably under the military’s funding anyway. He narrowed his eyes, sizing up the General as he tried to decide where this was going.

  ‘What is he talking about, Mark?’ said John as he turned and faced the Professor.

  Daniel’s interest piqued as he looked at Mark, and then back to Hargreaves. ‘What are you two talking about? Tell me,’ he said, intrigued.

  They all stared at Mark. He felt trapped as the walls began to close in around him. What the hell is happening here?

  ‘He knew what they were – he witnessed it first hand, didn’t you, Professor,’ said Hargreaves as he pointed towards Mark. ‘Tell them. Go on, tell them what you devised, what you saw. Tell them why you refused to share your knowledge with the world.’

  ‘I give up,’ said Daniel as he held his hands up in mock surrender, annoyed as the conversation seemed to exclude him.

  James raised his generous eyebrows. ‘Mark?’

  ‘I don’t understand, General,’ said Mark, confused. ‘What are you talking about?’ He began nervously twiddling with the white plastic buttons of his shirt cuffs. ‘Bits and pieces, scraps, that’s all I have.’

  ‘You don’t remember?’ replied Hargreaves with a distrusting grin.

  ‘Remember what? General, you’re worrying me now. All I know is that I’m a Professor of Theoretical Physics at Stanford, that’s all.’

  ‘Hmmm… you will remember.’

  Hargreaves and Daniel stood in one corner, whispering to each other. The tall man’s head was tight next to the General’s right ear. Paranoid eyes darted in every direction as the two of them conversed. Hargreaves held his left hand over his mouth to prevent the others from lip reading their conversation. Daniel’s hands rose and fell in a series of constant gestures. The voices quietened as Mark approached them.

  ‘What are you two plotting?’

  Daniel looked to Hargreaves for approval. The General tipped his head with a brisk nod, suggesting that it was okay to talk.

  ‘Mark, we can’t go on like this,’ said Daniel as his eyes shot around the room. ‘We’re getting out of here.’

  ‘And how do you plan on doing this?’ Mark scowled. ‘I thought we’d been through this already. It’s doomed to failure.’

  Daniel straightened his back. He felt inadequate at Mark’s intelligence as the Professor poured water over his fire. ‘Well, what would you suggest, Professor? Like I said before, I don’t wish to wait and see what they’re going to do with us, do you?’

  Mark glanced towards the ceiling. Why won’t these people listen to me? The mist swirled around his head like spiritual hands, mystical and teasing. ‘It’s suicide! You could be putting everyone in danger.’ He looked around the room. ‘Look at Tom, he’s not in a fit state at the moment. He probably never will be.’

  Hargreaves cleared his throat with a gentle cough. ‘Mark, wake up. By staying here and wondering what’s going to happen to us, well, it’s doing more harm than good. By the end, none of us will be in a fit state to do anything.’

  ‘That’s what they want, can’t you see it, Professor?’ interrupted Daniel with manic hand movements. ‘That’s the whole point – they’re waiting for something. Perhaps the bastards are waiting until we’re too weak to do anything!’

  Mark knew they were right. By doing nothing they were pretty much signing their own death certificates. He admired their bravery, though it was pointless nevertheless. The fact that there was no proper thought process bothered him; he was used to thinking, planning. He wanted – needed – more time. But time was a luxury they didn’t have as he struggled to think his way through this; the problem being that his brain just wasn’t working efficiently.

  Daniel shook his head. ‘Sod this!’ Immediately he ran towards the door and began hammering with the balls of his fists. ‘Come on then you fucking bastards! Come on, open up.’

  Mark tried to intervene to stop the madness, but Hargreaves clamped a heavy hand around his wrist, pulling him back.

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Mark through gritted teeth. ‘Let go.’

  The engravings on the triangular control panel began lighting up again. The white light shot through the frame’s grooves following the glowing sequence. Once more the door slid open quickly. The group dispersed, running around the room like headless chickens, smashing into each other as they desperately tried to flee. As before, there was nowhere to go.

  Daniel took a step backwards as the two extraterrestrials once again entered the cold room. Their massive heads broke above the red haze as they held tall; their eyes soaking up the fear exuding from their human prisoners.

  ‘Now!’ said Daniel as he made a break for it, sprinting towards the opening.

  One of the aliens caught him by his thin forearm, tightening its grip with a spindly four-fingered hand. Daniel screamed as the pain intensified. The creature stooped down to Daniel’s eye level and stared. I’ll rip your arm from its socket, human!

  Hargreaves released his own grip from Mark’s wrist and leapt to Daniel’s defence. His large build was still no match for the surprisingly strong being. The other Grey stepped in, easily pushing the General to the floor as if swatting an annoying fly from its face. The others watched with fleeting glances, trembling as they inched backwards into the shadows.

  Daniel’s legs began to buckle underneath his weakening body. ‘Help!’

  Mark instinctively ran at the aliens, dodging the dangling arms and long legs as he fought his way towards his fellow human.

  Seeing this, Hargreaves rose to his feet and joined the fight again. ‘Grab its fingers, grab its fingers!’ he puffed as they both struggled with the grey leathery arm.

  Mark yanked on the creature’s fingers, causing it to release a raspy whine. Daniel broke loose from the vice-like grip and raced for the open door.

  ‘Run!’ shouted Hargreaves before the alien struck him to the floor again. He landed heavily on the grating before rolling over onto his stomach, stunned. He laid flat as he raised his head, watching with blurred vision as Daniel’s grey jogging bottoms danced their way down the wide tubular corridor. They paused for a split second as they pondered which way to run – they went left.

  The aliens turned and looked at the door. Their spindly legs sprang into action as they sprinted through the mist after Daniel; the bounding steps clattering the floor with each giant stride.

  The door shot back across. The lights on the panel turned back to their familiar charcoal colour, signalling that the door was secured.

  Tom began crying hysterically again, hunching in the corner as James offered him comfort, though trying to quieten him was the youngster’s real motive. The tears ran down and over the swollen lump that protruded from underneath Tom’s left eye.

  Daniel certainly caught you flush with those punches! James thought to himself.

  ‘He’s dead! I told you that this was a bad idea, General,’ said Mark furiously.

  Hargreaves glanced up angrily as he slowly regained his breath. ‘Well, at least he got out of this room,’ he said. He wet his fingers and started to wipe at the grubby stains that now clung to the knees of his trousers.

  Mark shook his head. ‘At what cost, General?’

  The overpowering smell of urine and faeces wafted through the air. They all looked at one another, baffled by the smell until they realised that it came from one of them. Their eyes loc
ked in sync at the side of the room. Amidst the haze, steam rose from the grating as James squatted awkwardly against the wall. His grey jeans were bunched around his ankles. A dark yellow and brown puddle began pooling outwards behind him, swimming around his leather boots before congregating around the rubber sole.

  ‘What?’ he said sharply, ‘I sure as hell aren’t going to piss or shit myself, things are bad enough!’ James extended his middle finger and aimed it rudely towards the group.

  ‘He’s gone. Do you think he’ll be alright?’ said John nervously as he shuffled next to Mark. He raised his dark eyebrows. ‘Do you reckon he has escaped?’

  James pulled his jeans back up around his slim waist. The group looked at each other again as he made his way back towards them. A short uncomfortable silence followed.

  John’s face twisted as he pondered his words. ‘Professor, do you think that he made it off the ship?’

  ‘Who knows,’ said Mark in a hopeful, higher tone. ‘For all we know he may well have done so.’

  Hargreaves rolled his eyes. He was obsessively trying to remove the muck from his clothing, but failing miserably. ‘Please, you know as well as I do that Daniel hasn’t made it. You’re the Professor, you calculated the odds of survival from the start and let’s be honest, it’s not rocket science is it. There’s no way Daniel has gotten off this craft.’

  ‘Yes, General, but you never –’

  ‘Okay, let’s do this. Say for example that he got to the end of the corridor. Then miraculously, he evaded every Grey on this ship before finding a door out of which he jumped – with no parachute – from God knows how many thousands of feet up in the air.’ His throaty chuckle struck the metallic walls. ‘Really?’

  Mark’s facial expression changed. ‘Are you for real, General? You and Daniel were the ones that put this whole cock-a-hoop plan into action, and now you’re the one berating him for trying?’ A lightbulb lit up in Mark’s head as Hargreaves suddenly averted his steely gaze. The puzzle began slotting into place. ‘No, please don’t tell me that you planned this.’

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about, Professor,’ replied Hargreaves.

  ‘You sick bastard, you devised this, didn’t you. You encouraged him to run so you could test the waters for yourself, to test the threat so to speak.’

  The others began to look at Hargreaves and take notice – they didn’t like what they were hearing.

  ‘We’re never getting out of here, are we?’ said Tom suddenly, resigned to the fact.

  Mark knew that Hargreaves was right. Testing the aliens’ security was a necessity, but not at the expense of one of their own. Surely there could have been an easier solution? Add to this the General’s underhanded tactics, this wasn’t doing the others any good. The Professor’s expression said it all.

  The ageing General gave a gentle cough. He got the point. ‘Look, you all saw what Daniel was like. He wanted off this ship, and there was nothing we could have done. To use him in this way didn’t make any difference, he was going no matter what.’ Hargreaves straightened his torso and pushed his feet together. ‘I take full responsibility.’

  ‘You’re damned right you do!’ said Mark with a sarcastic chuckle. ‘Who are you going to sacrifice next… me, John, Tom?’

  John came between them. ‘But where are the military, General?’ he asked through quivering lips.

  Hargreaves shifted a little uneasily on his feet as the group seemed to encircle him. He remained solid, firm.

  ‘General?’ Mark echoed.

  ‘The world’s militaries can’t engage the enemy anymore, that’s if this has gone that far, we don’t know this for sure. If it has? Well, they’d be too strong and far more technologically advanced, it would be useless to continue fighting; we would no doubt have lost far too many men and women already.’ The dull glow smothered Hargreaves’ deep features as he looked at each of them. ‘Besides, I don’t wish to comment further on the matter, walls have ears if you catch my drift.’ He searched his pockets for a cigarette, but to no avail. ‘Does anyone smoke? I seem to have lost my cigarettes.’

  James pulled his black sweatshirt sleeves from underneath his jacket cuffs. ‘I was going to ask the same question, General,’ he said as he covered his cold hands with the fleecy material. ‘Mine are also gone.’

  ‘Perhaps they like to smoke after sex?’ said Tom bizarrely.

  They all stared at him, unsure whether the words were that of a completely insane man or not.

  ‘Forget that for a moment,’ said Mark as he looked at Tom, then back to the others. ‘How do you know that the military isn’t out there now fighting for us?’

  The strangeness of Tom’s remark still remained as Hargreaves puffed out his cheeks. ‘They could be, but one thing I can tell you is that we have to be smart. We can’t throw people to the wolves for the sake of it, you have to survey the situation first,’ he said with a sparkle in his blue eyes. ‘Don’t give up just yet.’

  Mark stared back, just as bemused. Can’t throw people to the wolves, eh? That’s a bit rich! He narrowed his eyes as the thoughts flickered through his mind. ‘You’re hiding something, General. You know more than you’re letting on.’

  ‘Well, I hope that they find a way, and soon because this fucking smell is killing me,’ moaned James as he wiped his greasy hands down the thighs of his jeans. He took in a deep breath through his small angled nose. ‘I’m going to be sick in a minute.’

  An hour or so had passed as the group sat, paced the floor then sat again. It seemed to be getting colder in the room as they all hugged their upper bodies. The hunger was also beginning to set in as disgruntled stomachs grumbled.

  The triangular panel began its familiar sequence.

  ‘No,’ said John, shaking his head as he pointed through the mist towards the expanding glow of the doorway. ‘Look!’

  They seemed to hold their breaths for a second as they anticipated the door’s opening. The group shuffled backwards, trying to squeeze every part of themselves into the dark corners of the room. The door whizzed open. This time though, the Greys didn’t enter the room. The humans waited for a moment, silent… nothing.

  Mark stepped forwards into the haze. He could just make out the weak light that toyed with them, close to the opening.

  ‘Mark,’ said Hargreaves in a hard whisper, ‘don’t move.’

  Silence.

  The Professor looked back at the group’s silhouettes. ‘What do you think?’ he asked with a confused shrug of his shoulders. He forced himself into a quiet slide against the side of the open door frame

  ‘Are we going home?’ asked Tom with a glimmer of hope in his deranged eyes.

  ‘Don’t be foolish, it’s a trap!’ whispered Hargreaves, shifting his silvery head left, then right. ‘Why would they let us go after all this time?’

  The stench of rotting flesh wafted down the corridor and into the room. Mark raised his hand to cover his mouth and nose – the smell was awful. He leaned his left arm against the frame, careful not to be seen. ‘You did say that you wanted off this ship? Now’s your chance, General.’ He watched as the mist exited the large opening in coiling swathes. As he stared down the empty passage, he could see that the same fixtures and amber lighting occupied the centre of the corridor’s curved ceiling.

  ‘Yes, but that was before they “invited” us out through the door. This isn’t good.’

  The group gingerly shuffled into the lighting, tip-toeing as they moved closer towards Mark’s dark figure that stood the other side of the mist. His greying hair became more prominent as they crept up slowly behind him.

  ‘This corridor is about 70, 80 feet long? If we can –’

  Mark’s words were broken off as Hargreaves sidled up next to him. ‘Wait, we don’t know what’s lurking there at the end of the corridor, around each corner.’

  ‘Yes, General, my thoughts exactly,’ said the Professor, his annoyance obvious as he stared at Hargreaves.

  Heavy footst
eps rumbled through the grating, becoming ever louder as the sound echoed down the long stretch of light and steel.

  ‘Get back, get back!’ ordered Hargreaves as he hurriedly ushered them away from the door frame.

  Frightened eyes peered out through the gaps in the mist as it ghosted past. Three aliens came into view at the end of the corridor, walking from left to right.

  ‘What are they doing?’ whispered James as his head bobbed and weaved, straining for a better look. ‘I can’t see properly through this shit.’

  ‘Looks like they’re carrying something?’ said John, his head retreating back into the haze.

  Tom began to whimper behind them.

  ‘Shut up, Tom, they’ll hear you!’ panicked Hargreaves. He turned his attention back to Mark. ‘What can you see?’

  A human arm dropped to the floor; a glint apparent from something metallic that remained within the hand. Mark’s eyes travelled the length of the limp body and wet organs, that culminated in two male feet sliding along the floor as the aliens dragged it away. Following behind them was the third alien, who held a dripping, ball shaped object in its creepy long fingers.

  The Professor squinted his eyes as he focused on the scene before him. Two dark brown eyes stared emptily back at him. ‘It can’t be,’ he said, turning away from the door. He placed his back against the wall, inside of the room. He looked upwards, clenching his eyes shut before opening them again, hoping that he was dreaming. The reality quickly returned. ‘They’re not letting us go – they never were.’

  The mist crept eerily down the corridor. The door shut fast, cutting off the smoky haze, forcing the others to pull their heads back into the room quickly.

  ‘Mark, what is it?’ asked James, concerned. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because they wanted us to see it,’ came the tight-lipped reply. The Professor ran his hands backwards through his hair as he looked to the ceiling again.