An Alien Rescue (23 page)

With
more laughing and understanding smiles, they understood the hot water gag at last, thinking how silly it was to use it in the first instance.

“Earth’s humans’ have the strangest system of communicating with each other,” Phyllis said to Belinda, knowing Scott would hear her.

“Yes,” she replied. “But we should perhaps try harder to understand that the insignificant statements actually are significant, even though they may only serve to bewilder and confuse us.”

Scott listened, unknowingly biting a fingernail. It was a reaction of trying to concentrate on their discussion while considering its merit.

Belinda turned to face Scott, seeing a finger at his mouth, asking, “Is there something caught between your teeth?”

He stopped moving, except his eyes. They lowered to look at his right hand next to his mouth, surprising himself because he really wasn’t aware he was nibbling at a nail.

“Nah! It’s just a sharp bit of nail and I’m biting it off,” he excused his inappropriate actions.

“So,” Scott chirped, changing the subject
while removing his hand. “What I propose is this. We scuttle the craft, get the hell out of here as fast as possible and find something to eat with hopefully a toilet as well?”

Phyllis crossed her legs as she replied, “That’s a relief. I thought I might be the only one who needed a toilet!”

“Whoa! Get to the end of the queue,” cried Belinda.

“Holy-shit,” piped in Scott. “And there was me thinking you two were superhuman by not needing to go like I am.”

“We are superhuman, Scott, but we still need to go like you do. We are after all still human at the end of the day, just like you are.”

“No, you’re not!”

With pursed lips, Belinda and Phyllis knew he was passing them a compliment, but refrained from insisting they were.

“Okay, okay,” he said, dismissively, stopping the present discussion to issue new orders and directives. “As there isn’t anything we can use from the vessel, we’ll scuttle it right away. Belinda, due to Phyllis’s condition - sorry to remind you love,” he bluntly apologised while turning to face
Phyllis, “can you program the thing to set sail then dive to the bottom of the lake with the hatches open?”

“No!”
came the quickest reply ever.

He was taken aback by the suddenness of her answer, as much as his reply of. “Why the hell not?”

“Because the installed safety features will not allow it. There are hard-wired limit-switches on the hatches, ensuring the vessel cannot submerge if any are open-circuit.”

Recalling and understanding similar safety measures on an aircraft he knew they were there to safeguard the vessel and those who manned it.

“Can the switches not be bypassed by software changes?”

“No, they cannot.”

“Fuck!”

The women looked at each other for a translation of that one, but nothing was crossing between them.

“Best I have a look then, hadn’t I?”

Scott cautiously leapt aboard once
more. Having already written the vessel off within his mind he found it slightly unnerving to do so. Inspecting the hatch’s closing mechanism with a trained eye he spied a small panel that lay perfectly flush with its surrounding structure. It was secured by a concealed spring, one that restricted its opening unless it was meant to.

“Now that’s clever, very bloody clever. Who the hell needs a screw
-driver or socket-set when there’s technology like this around?”

Belinda and Phyllis stood
patiently, waiting to hear if he could over-ride the safety device. They also stood with their legs doing a bit of a shuffle.

“Hey, it’s a piece of cake!” Scott shouted.

“Cake? It’s a piece of… cake?” Belinda said to Phyllis in total confusion. “It’s a submersible made from metal that would break your teeth if you tried to bite it for Jesus sake!”

Phyllis smiled at the thought of shattering her teeth while attempting to eat it.

“Okay! I can see those looks again! Jesus-friggen-bloody-frustrating-women,” he muttered beneath his breath. “Just because you’ve both got lovely bodies and peachy backsides doesn’t mean I’ve got to watch my every flaming word, you know!”

“We think you’re tired, Scott,” Belinda replied with concern. “Your mode of speech is really confusing us, much more so than normal. I’m sorry to tell you.”

“Yeah, you’re right and I’m sorry,” he apologised again. “I’m doing a lot of apologising at the moment,” he added.

“It’s all right, we understand. We’re tired too, but we also
need
a toilet.”

“Fuck,
and so do I, now that you’ve mentioned it. Right then! If both of you head off in one direction, finding somewhere private to do what you need to do, I’ll finish here and head off in the opposite direction and do the same. Yeah?”

“Erm, yes, we suppose so.” They replied while considering his strategy.

“I’ll just be a moment doing this, it’s only a couple of wires needing twisting together then I’ll be finished. If you’re back first, can you get this thing started and head it out to sea with the hatch fully open; but make certain I’m not on board first though, for Christ’s sake!”

“For your sake, you mean, don’t you?”

“Yeah, guess I do. You got me with that one.”

With everyone knowing what was happening and what was to be done, they all did their individual bit.

As Scott returned from his ablutions, tidying his suit, he spotted the last piece of turret disappearing beneath the water. With a loud spluttering gurgle as if it was a drowning monster, or mini-Titanic, it was gone. Only bubbles and fading ripples showed there might have been something on the surface before the sea took it to Mister Jones’s extraterrestrial locker.

With a look of relief, Scott said, “I’m glad I wasn’t on board when you sent it out.”

“We made certain you weren’t. Phyllis checked everywhere before we despatched it.”

“Thanks Phyllis
, you too, Belinda. You’ve both done extremely well.”

They watched the
final bubbles break the surface before silence reigned once again.

Scott rubbed his tummy before exclaiming, “Right then girlies, let’s see if there’s a horse around here?”

Phyllis released a hearty laugh, while Belinda demanded to know what it was about a horse that made them laugh.

The laser-beam scythed corpses awaited them,
with diced and sliced little grey bodies, all cut through their middles. Red and green slime and surging foam hugged the water’s edge as a haze of mist drifting across the stained gravel and sand. The smell was enough to turn anyone’s stomach inside out. It had become even stronger since they last got a whiff, as if some sort of toxic fermentation was progressing. Scott saw how the lapping water had dragged a lot of the debris into the sea, leaving the sand mostly unmarked where the waves had washed it. Should they step on it, it would surely tell a tale to any who might come by, whether innocently or by chance of searching for their whereabouts. Scott advised them to walk through the water’s edge, thus hiding their footsteps to anyone who might show an interest.

Phyllis
constantly looked behind as they headed towards the lake tunnel’s entrance, the opening they had ran from not so long before. Any trace of their presence was lost to the lapping waves with indentations in the wet sand disappearing with the next wave.

Having reached the tunnel Scott wondered how they might disguise their footsteps as they made their way back up because any prints would show in the mud, he reflected.

“I have an unusual request to make, and although it may seem strange there’s a perfectly rational explanation for it.”

A period of silence met his statement, with an even longer pause while waiting to hear the request.

“Uh-huh? I can see you’re stunned by the thought of what I’m about to say,” he added with a teasing smirk.

More silence.

Yeah, okay you two. I’ve got the message. My request is that we walk backwards up the tunnel.”

“Backwards?” they both gasped in time with each other.

“Why?” asked Phyllis.

“Wow, stereo! I thought that would get you going.” He
enjoyed teasing them. “It’s to fool anyone that might come this way into believing no one has gone back up the tunnel.”

Both women faced each other, nodding like donkeys. He ushered both women ahead of him, explaining his feet were bigger so would try and cover their footprints with his, making it appear as though only one person passed by.

Progress proved to be slower than he had anticipated, as the second and third had to step into the first’s footprints as much as possible. Scott secretly hoped the Greys were not short of patience, sitting quietly while waiting to hear from their missing partners-in-crime from the lake’s bottom.

Having eventually ascended the tunnel with its slippery floor, reaching the t-junction where they had previously turned downwards towards the lake, they were able to turn around and walk normally at last. Instead of backtracking towards their original point of entry
at the surface beneath the cliffs, they instead chose the other direction. The trio now headed towards the base’s centre and controlling complex. There was still a mission to complete and they had no choice in the matter. Progress quickened with a vengeance, and even though they were running uphill for what must have been several miles, they never slackened the pace. The ascent levelled-off just prior to entering a massive dome-shaped chamber. Another tunnel was seen to continue from the opposite wall, which is where they aimed for. Stepping cautiously forwards they each found themselves staring upwards. It was as if they were standing inside a perfectly cut diamond with its intricately panelled walls all polished to an immaculate mirror finish. Leading off at right angles, they spotted another tunnel entrance that broke the mirror effect with its darkness. The decision of which tunnel to continue with stopped them in their tracks while they surveyed their newest surroundings. They wondered which direction to follow. Scott searched for any clues to where either of the tunnels might lead to, noticing there were only a couple of footprints going to and from the right-angled exit, with a multitude coming from the tunnel that had been directly across from where they had entered. Feeling the need for rest and to regroup, he opted for the lesser used tunnel, hoping it might be the better and quieter of the two. And besides, he considered, they could always turn around and come back if it turned out to be a mistake. Without explaining his decision, he beckoned his companions to follow as he quickly led the way.

After about fifty metres of darkened tunnel, they entered
yet another chamber, although much smaller than the previous and without the fabulous panels. The room was hexagonal with a flat roof and a closed door in each of the other walls. As their eyesight slowly adjusted to the semi-darkness, a myriad of glistening jewel-like stars could be seen in the roof. Several of the mysterious stars had fallen, coming to rest on the floor. Scott picked one up, declaring it to be nothing more than a quartz crystal and not the diamond he had secretly hoped for.

“What is that smell?” asked Belinda
while turning herself around to concentrate her olfactory senses to try and pinpoint the source.

Phyllis and Scott sniffed the air, noses raised upwards as if to assist their
own senses.

“Phew,” exclaimed Scott with a slight revulsion shown in his facial expression. “Someone’s burned their dinner, by the smell of things. Speaking of which…”

They moved forward in a line, sniffing the air. Three noses were working at their extreme limits, trying to determine the smell’s origin. And even though it wasn’t what they might term appetising, their feed-forward systems had been kicked into life with a vengeance. Copious amounts of saliva were already developing in their mouths, with each swallowing to be rid of it. Pavlov’s dogs wouldn’t have had a look in if these three had been around at the time.

“The smell is coming from that door over there,” said Phyllis, pointing
with a remaining finger.

“Are you sure,” Scott asked, still sniffing as if
suffering from a very bad cold.

“I think so too,” added Belinda. “But what does it mean?

“It means I’m flaming hungry and that blasted stink is making me hungrier. If there’s a smell like burned food, then there may be other food present. What condition it’s in remains to be seen …”

“Or tasted,” blurted Belinda before Scott could say it. She unknowingly licked her lips, stopping only when she saw Phyllis observing her.

“Wait here,” he said. “I’m gonna do a quick recce.”

Before their faces reflect
ed their question, Scott added, “Reconnaissance, for Christ’s sake!”

Both women waited, shifting on their feet, watching his progress
with caution. He was almost at the smelly door when they decided to join him, whether he wanted their company or not. The surrounding gloom unnerved them and they didn’t like being separated. They knew if they stayed together as a group, united in their efforts to watch for danger, they had a better chance of survival. Also, an adversary might be dissuaded from approaching or attacking all three if they stood together as opposed to being separated.