So, this was now Day Five of Mike’s Escapade back to his Timeline and home city of London. He had a few matters to attend to and dealt with the main part of these yesterday. Remaining was a Promise and pledge he had made to his friend and Bandmate, Mark Evans, to which he said if he could ever get a chance to meet up with Mark’s Girlfriend Kate, he would do so and inform her that Mark was still alive.
Mark had also told Mike of Kate, or as she was born as Katherine Edison. (Kate for short).
They met in the same Primary School they both attended—Bellville Primary School on Meteor Street. Kate grew up at No.17, Meteor Street with her family. It was a Late Victorian row house, now re-painted light grey with a bright blue Front door. Mark only lived a few Roads away to the East, over on Taybridge Road. As time passed, they grew apart—but later re-connected through their Mutual Loves of Music when they met up at a local School dance.
Her mother had once told her that she was distantly related to Thomas Edison, the inventor of the vacuum bulb, and Recording device Inventor, plus many other groundbreaking patents, though Kate had never paid much attention to the story. The connection, as her mother explained, was through a distant Dutch relative—one of Edison's early ancestors from Holland. It wasn't direct, not in the way that would have made Kate feel like a true heir to his genius, but it was interesting, nonetheless. THAT Thomas Edison more recently from Canada and USA. "Same family name, different families," her mother would always say with a shrug, as if it didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. And yet, Kate always found herself drawn to lights, especially the way they seemed to shape the world around her. Perhaps it was in her blood—a legacy of invention, of discovery, of finding ways to illuminate the darkness. Interesting. Well, this Katherine Edison liked Lights too…she especially enjoyed lights upon her, when she was Dancing for Entertainment. When she danced—bright, focused, and warm, Kate enjoyed spotlighting her every move as she performed for an audience. Not an exotic Dancer, where she may have felt exposed and more vulnerable. No, Kate had always enjoyed the feeling of precision in her movements, the controlled grace her jazz and ballet training had taught her. There was power in balance, in poise, and in the spotlight that shone down on her as she twirled, leaped, and spun with effortless energy. Her mother put her through Jazz Dance after School and some Ballet the teaching of that precise Balance and Poise when even younger still. The elegance of the movement, the mastery of control—these things gave her a sense of confidence, of being seen and appreciated, without needing to rely on anything else.
Every time she was out at a Club, she could never resist the urge to Dance. The music had a magnetic pull on her—something she couldn’t resist. The beat, the rhythm, the vibrations that seemed to fill the air, were like an invitation she couldn't decline. She’d feel it in her bones, that deep, insistent call to move, to let go of everything else and lose herself in the music. Whether the club was packed with bodies or half-empty on a slow night, Kate found herself gravitating toward the dance floor, as if the lights and the beats knew exactly where she belonged.
As she grew older, her body had evolved too, shifting from the slender figure of her youth into something more athletic, more powerful. Her dancer’s legs—long, toned, and strong—now held a grace that turned heads. There was a fluidity in her movements, a natural rhythm that flowed through every step, every turn. Her body wasn’t just an instrument for dance; it was a declaration of her presence in the world. She wasn’t just dancing for fun; she was owning the space, commanding attention with the elegance of each controlled motion and the raw strength in her legs as they pushed her higher, faster, further.
Kate’s later fascination was with Rock Music and the rebellious abandon it would offer. As Kate grew older, her love for dance began to merge with a new fascination—rock music. It wasn’t just the sound that drew her in; it was the raw, rebellious energy that surged through the guitars, the pounding drums, and the gravelly voices that screamed out against conformity. The music felt like an invitation to break free, to let loose in ways she had never allowed herself before. The rhythm was a call to arms, a declaration of freedom, and Kate was ready to answer.
She found herself at local rock clubs, where the energy was electric, and the crowd seemed to pulse with a shared sense of defiance. She loved the way the music made her feel—alive, untamed, and ready to take on the world. The darker, heavier beats ignited something inside her, and she felt an irresistible pull to not just move to the music but to be part of it. It didn’t take long for her to realize she had a talent for singing. Her voice was powerful, a rich and sultry blend of vulnerability and strength that seemed to complement the rough, rebellious nature of rock. Kate was quick to find a place among local musicians, joining bands as a backup singer. It wasn’t long before she’d cemented her role on stage—her voice blending with the lead singer’s while her body moved with the music, captivating the crowd.
As the backup singer, Kate didn’t just sing—she performed. Her hips swayed with every beat, and her legs, always a focal point, became an instrument of their own. She didn’t just lend her voice to the band; she added a new layer of attraction, a sensuality that pulled the audience in even further. She knew the power of her presence, the way her moves could enhance the music, making the band’s performances even more dynamic. Her sultry dance moves were just as much a part of the show as the notes that came from her throat, giving the audience something to feast their eyes on as well as their ears. It wasn’t just about the music—it was about embodying the rock and roll spirit. Kate was no longer just a dancer or a singer; she was a force of nature, blending her talents to create something that was unmistakably hers. The stage became her playground, where she could fully express herself in a way that was as fierce as it was beautiful.
Having moved out from her Family home, she shared a functional basement suite to share with a close female friend a few roads to the west. It was tucked away on a windy street called Sisters Avenue, a name that always seemed to whisper of quiet rebellion, of women carving their own paths. The suite itself was clean and simple, but undeniably cramped. The walls, painted a pale beige, seemed to close in after a while, and the low ceiling gave the place a cozy, almost subterranean feel. There was a certain charm to it, but the lack of space made it feel less like a sanctuary and more like a temporary escape.
Entertaining male friends? Well, that was a bit tricky. The small living room barely fit two people comfortably, and there wasn’t much room to spread out. Conversations, drinks, and laughter often spilled over into the cramped kitchen nook or spilled out into the narrow hallway. It wasn’t that Kate minded the intimacy—she had grown used to the closeness, the constant hum of people moving through her life. But sometimes, she longed for a space where she could truly stretch out, where her energy and presence could fill the room without feeling confined by the walls around her.
Kate could not sustain herself on Music alone. As much as she loved the stage, the unpredictability of it all was never enough to pay the bills or build the life she wanted. From a young age, her mother and Auntie Maude had shown her the basics of hair-cutting and design. It had started as something to pass the time—something creative to focus on after school—but over the years, it had become a skill Kate could rely on. A natural progression, really, after leaving school. The steady rhythm of cutting, styling, and shaping hair provided a balance to the chaos of her music-driven life.
Kate had worked in two different salons before, each one a stepping stone to her current position at ‘Teddy’s’ in Clapham High Street. It was a small, trendy spot, one of those places where people came not just to get their hair done, but to feel part of something fashionable, a little slice of luxury in the middle of a busy, unremarkable street. It wasn’t as glamorous as the nightlife scene she was a part of, but it had its own kind of appeal—like an anchor to keep her grounded between her performances. The hours were long, and sometimes, it felt like she was playing a role in another part of her life, the part that didn’t need a microphone or a spotlight to shine.
As far as Mike was concerned, locating Teddy’s shouldn’t be too difficult. Mark had given him sufficient instructions enough where to locate this, Salon. Clapham High Street wasn’t far from the heart of London, and the salon was known enough to have a regular clientele. If Mike was determined, it would be easy enough to find, even if he didn’t know Clapham well. The challenge would be more in finding the right moment to approach her—to find the balance between a chance encounter and a conversation that could change everything. But once Mike met Kate, what would transpire. The picture Mark had painted of her was one of a goddess of Punk Rock in Fish Net Stockings, small black Mini Skirt with a ‘Peacock ‘Punk Hairstyle. Her appearance would like that of a Model and so Mike had a tough Hill to climb to gain her trust on the Mark issue.
Telling her the truth—would send her either running away screaming or swinging at him. Keeping it simple would work best. Half the truth would be better. The whole story, the one about alien abductions, space capsules, and missing months, was far too much for anyone to take in one sitting. It was better to approach this carefully, with a story that was half true but not insane sounding. He couldn’t come across like someone part of an organization responsible for Mark’s disappearance. After all, Mike himself still didn’t fully understand how he had vanished—he only knew what Mark had told him before everything had spiraled out of control. It would be better to approach this from an Angle that Mike was abducted by the same group that took Mark. That was true enough, in a twisted way. But he’d also need to make sure to emphasize one thing: that he was okay. He was fine, even if everything had been... strange. And, more than anything, he had missed Kate—missed her more than words could express. He could tell her that, he thought, without sounding like a madman. But Mike himself, was ‘doing a Runner.’
Mike felt a heavy responsibility weighing on him. He owed it to Mark to track down Kate, to bring her a shred of hope—that Mark was still alive. The thought of her believing he was gone, drowned in some fishing accident, was unbearable. But involving the authorities any further was out of the question. That could only lead to one thing: attracting unwanted attention, drawing the eyes of the very people who could jeopardize Mark’s safety—and his own. If he drew the wrong kind of notice, everything could unravel in an instant. He felt he owed it to Mark to track Kate down and bring her some Hope. He would be willing to take a Lie detector test- and be as truthful as he could—no matter how far-out and fantastic his Story would sound. Ensuring that he would pass the Test. But he would much rather not go down THAT path. He would try to keep it as light as possible with Kate. The last thing he needed was for Kate to shut him down before he could even explain. But if he was going to succeed, he had to keep his story believable, leaving out the parts that were too bizarre to make sense. His only hope was that she would listen long enough for him to find the words to make her believe. If she will even talk to him that is?
Mark had told Mike the story of his Abduction and disappearance to Jellsius 4. Mark had mentioned to Mike his abduction story in fragments, pieces of a memory that still haunted him. It all started on a calm, ordinary afternoon out on Lake Windermere, while he was doing a spot of fishing. The peaceful solitude of the lake, the quiet hum of the motorboat, and the rhythmic pull of the line were all part of the tranquility he had come to love. That was until something unusual caught his attention. A strange, white-yellow glow had appeared under the water, a few hundred feet away from where Mark sat. At first, he thought it was a trick of the light, the sun reflecting off the surface in an odd way. But as he watched, the glow grew brighter, more distinct, and unnatural. It was almost as if the lake itself was alive, pulsing with energy from some hidden source below. His gut twisted with unease, but he tried to shake off the feeling.
Mark had been preparing to leave the lake, his small Yamaha boat motor already idling, ready to take him back to shore. The engine had worked perfectly fine when he shut it off twenty minutes earlier, but now, as he tried to start it again, it sputtered. The motor coughed once, twice, then fell silent. He gave it another try, but the engine seemed lifeless, unresponsive to his attempts. The peaceful sounds of the lake now felt distant, muffled, as his heart began to race in response to the growing sense of wrongness in the air. He grabbed his Oars and clumsily had begun to row toward the shore. Looking back, to see the glowing object was closing in on him….and the Lake itself was not so deep- However, the sight of this object was crazy!! And did not belong in the Lake. The glow under the water remained, pulsing ever so slightly, like some beckoning force. Mark tried to reason with himself, telling himself it was probably some sort of electrical issue—nothing more. But something deep inside him told him it wasn’t. He was trapped on the lake, his boat immobilized, with something out there in the water that he couldn’t understand.
Then, before he could react, the light beneath the water flared brighter, blindingly so, and the world around him shifted. Time seemed to slow, as if reality itself had cracked open for just a moment. The air felt thick, heavy, and suddenly—he was gone.
The outcome was the same as all the other 3 Abductions. Mark had recounted the story to Mike time and time again, each telling filled with the same disbelief and quiet horror. Every time it happened, it was as if the universe itself had bent for a moment, and everything he knew was torn away.
Mark’s abduction began in the same way every time—without warning or explanation. A brilliant, blinding light would descend from below him and engulf him, drawing him from the small fishing boat as if the very lake beneath him had come alive. But it wasn’t just Mark who was taken. The boat, too, was swept up in the light, as if it, too, were part of the abduction. The light would surround him completely, swallowing him up in a dazzling, near-deafening glow. It was as though reality itself had torn open, pulling him away from the world he knew. Mark would disappear in the clasp of a bright light that not only engulfed him from out of the water below his small fishing Boat—but would also grab the Boat itself. Mike had been told this story several times by Mark…. who had presumed to have Drowned and no trace of his Boat nor he, were ever found.
For Mark, it had felt like a moment of utter confusion and helplessness. One moment, he was sitting in his boat, the hum of the engine beneath him and the wind on his face; the next, he was gone. No splashes, no screams—just the sudden absence of everything he had ever known. In his mind, he had died—drowned, taken by the water—yet he had been spared, somehow, to live with the knowledge of something far worse. Mark could never fully explain it to Mike. He could never articulate the terror of being pulled into that light, of being ripped from the world and transported to some unknown place. But what Mark did know, what he had come to accept, was that he had not died, at least not in the way he had thought. He had been taken—and somehow, he had survived. But the price had been steep, and the answers—if they existed—remained out of reach.
Mark was not the first of the ‘Star Band’ to have been abducted in this manner. Patrick had been the first to vanish, that grim distinction belonged to him, the first to disappear without a trace. His disappearance leaving the band and everyone around him in confusion and despair. Neil followed not long after, his own encounter with the light a story too strange to fully believe. Mark had always spoken of the terror he felt, knowing that he was not the only one, that there was something wrong, something that had begun long before his own abduction.
Then it was Neil, and after him, Mark. Now, it was Mike, the final member, who had found himself ensnared in the same strange fate that had claimed his friends before him. The pattern was chilling, and it became clear to Mike, as Mark had told him time and again, that something far larger than they could ever understand was at play. Each abduction had followed the same eerie script—an unexplainable light, a sense of being pulled from the world, from reality itself, and then… nothing. No body, no evidence, no trace. Just an empty space where a person once was. It was as though they had been erased, taken by some force beyond human comprehension.
Mark was real. So too were Neil, Patrick, and HIMSELF. Not Ghosts. Real young men, living real lives of their own. Mike remembered the details enough to begin a search to contact Kate. And as he stood on the edge of finding Kate, he couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever had started with Patrick was closing in on him, too.
Now, this was the beginning of Mike’s fifth day on the lam, as he’d started to think of it. Every day, as the hours dragged on, he was able to remember just a little bit more—pieces of a past that felt half-formed, like a shattered puzzle with the edges missing. He couldn’t be sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him, or if the memories were returning, bit by bit, as if his mind was slowly stitching together what had been torn apart.
It wasn’t just the abduction that haunted him, though that part was clear enough. It was everything else that came with it—the feeling of being pulled from one reality into another, the disorienting sensation of time and space bending in ways that made no sense. The flashes he had of his time aboard the strange craft, the otherworldly beings he couldn’t quite remember, and the images of his bandmates—Patrick, Neil, Mark—all swirling in his mind like ghostly echoes.
Mike was stunned when, on the first day he found himself back in the flat, there was a note waiting for him from his landlords, the Cables. It was an odd thing to come back to—he hadn’t expected to find anything, let alone a message. The note itself was short, almost too simple: "We’ve cleaned up the flat and emptied out the fridge. The mention of the Plumbing issues downstairs, and we trust everything’s fine with you, Mike." As well as that the Flat had been cleaned up and the Fridge was cleaned out, and empty. Mike had not gone out to buy any Groceries as he basically felt little Hunger, and this latest stage of consciousness, what would he buy anyways? He is getting ‘Out of this’ and heading to Wales. His phone had been disconnected, and in his conversations with Agnes Cable, his old Boss and at the Bank with Jasi, he was fully aware that his absence has been for over four Months!
So, what now?
He had some money left over from his quick visit to see Glenn at The Ten Bells Pub the night before. After paying for and savoring the Fish 'n' Chips on his way out of the bank—a meal he’d forgotten just how much he missed—which was divine indeed, he was left with enough to buy a train ticket to Wales. There would still be some cash for a coffee or a drink, should he meet Kate later in the day. He could suggest they go somewhere quiet, a place to talk, away from the noise and distractions of the city.
Something odd was happening to him, though. He was parched—thirsty in a way that felt unnatural. But there was more to it. He realized that he wasn’t feeling hungry at the usual times, the times when a body his age would typically need re-fueling. And the customers at the pub last night had looked at him strangely, almost as if they sensed something was wrong. Even Glenn, with his usual bluntness, had remarked that he "looked off."
Last night, Mike had scanned the pub, his gaze drifting over the familiar surroundings, but something felt off. He noticed faded areas here and there, almost as if the light was playing tricks on him—or maybe it was something in his eyes. But these spots seemed different, larger, and they didn’t move across his vision the way a typical visual glitch would. It was as though the objects themselves were flickering in and out of existence. How could that be? The more he thought about it, the less sense it all made.
Lying in bed, contemplating these strange circumstances, Mike realized that if he wanted to find Kate, he’d have to “shake a leg” and get ready for what promised to be a difficult day. He decided he’d grab a coffee—or perhaps tea—on the way out, figuring it would save him time, so he could leave the apartment faster. The less time he wasted here, the more time he’d have to track down Kate.
Bathroom time. A quick shower seemed like a good idea—an opportunity to freshen up and collect his thoughts. Naturally, he wanted to be clean and presentable, especially if he was meeting a younger woman around his age whom he'd heard such wonderful things about. A good first impression would matter. If he did manage to find her and share this troubling tale about Mark, there was a chance she might react with hostility. And if he tried to explain the strange occurrences on top of everything else, he’d need to look as presentable as possible to help his cause.
The Shower was good, but its temperature was not. It was Tepid, barely warm. Mr. Cable had apparently turned it down to conserve energy, considering no one would be living in the apartment for an undisclosed period. How thoughtful, Mike thought with a touch of sarcasm. Still, the water was at least refreshing, even if it lacked the comfort he had hoped for.
Mike stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, noticing that he was no longer as red as he had been the day before. Instead, his skin had started to turn brown—not like a sunburn or a suntan, but something different. Even more disturbing, he could see small patches of his skin fading right before his eyes. No wonder Glenn had been looking at him so oddly, commenting that he "wasn’t looking himself" and that he "looked off" last night. What in the world was happening to him?
His first thought was that he was fading away. But there were other growing concerns as well. His stomach, no longer growling with hunger, had begun to feel strange—like something inside was shifting. Each morning, he felt violently sick, with a sensation that he was turning inside out. It had started faintly on his first day back, but since then, the intensity had increased every morning. Today, it was the worst it had been. Mike couldn’t shake the feeling that he was slowly, gradually dying. He was acutely aware of his presence here—yet not entirely. There was a growing sense that he might also be somewhere else, caught in a state of suspended animation, yet free to roam around London in his own timeline, dealing with long-neglected matters.
Was he being watched? Analyzed? Or evaluated in some way? These were all critical questions.
Mike took a closer, longer look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror—and he didn’t like what he saw. In disgust, he punched the glass. Unsurprisingly, it shattered into a myriad of pieces. The reality hit him almost immediately: he was going to lose his damage deposit over this. Dammit! Why did I have to do that? he thought. He grabbed a broom from a nearby cupboard in the kitchen and did his best to sweep the shards into a pile in the corner of the bathroom for now. He’d deal with it later, when he had a pan to collect the remains. But for now, he needed to get ready to leave—and first, he had to find something to wear that would partially hide his face.
Mike went to the small cloakroom adjacent to the apartment door, rummaging through the rack of coats and jackets he owned. BINGO! His black hoodie coat, perfect. It would partially conceal his face, casting enough shadow to make unwanted scrutiny more difficult. It was the best cover-up he could find.
The hoodie fit well. Mike noticed, with some surprise, that he seemed to have lost a bit of weight.
Now, to business. Mike had a copy of London A-Z City Road Maps, an invaluable item for anyone navigating the vast city. Most of London could be reached via the District or Circle Line, just two of the many train lines that crisscrossed the British capital. Mike planned to head to the nearest train station at West Kensington, a station he had used many times on similar trips and figure out where he needed to get off. From there, he’d decide whether to transfer to another train line or hop on a bus.
The conveniency of London Transport is that it is efficient and timely, for the most part. Detours due to Accidents, Construction work and ‘Rush Hour’ traffic will invariably slow the pace of travel down some. But times are reliable and Trains on average run every ten minutes. Whereas Buses overall, run about every five Minutes. Overall, it is a safe and reliable system. Well, it must be as Millions of commuters depend upon it to get to places on time.
Mike stuffed his remaining money into the pockets of his hoodie, slipped on a clean pair of jeans, and quickly ran a brush through his hair. Grabbing his wallet, some identification, and his flat keys, he locked up the apartment and headed out toward the nearby train station.
Arriving at West Kensington Train Station, Mike’s prediction was confirmed—it was a train on the District Line he needed, marked in green on the station’s city map. His destination was Clapham Common, and to get there, he would need to transfer at Sloane Square Station. Sloane Square was one of many transfer hubs in the city’s vast transportation network, connecting multiple routes in every direction.
Mike decided he’d save more time by switching to a bus at Sloane Square instead of continuing by train. The bus stops were marked with printed timetables for each route, pinned under a sheet of Perspex on lampposts to protect them from the weather and, occasionally, random acts of vandalism by bored troublemakers. Mike mapped out his journey and estimated he’d be on Clapham High Street within the hour.
A couple of pounds bought him a train ticket to Sloane Square. He could use the same ticket to transfer to another train, but he decided to try his luck on a bus from that point onward. Different vehicles meant different fares. He was ready. After paying his fare, he passed the ticket stall and was nearly swept along by the tide of commuters rushing to catch their trains. Mike made a conscious effort to keep his head down, avoiding any unnecessary attention. He didn’t want anyone getting a good look at his face, especially if it didn’t look quite right—whatever "normal" was anymore.
Making his way down to Platform Two—eastbound—Mike didn’t have to wait long at all. In no time, the train rushed into the station, jolting to a stop. He was about halfway down the length of the train, which appeared to be eight or nine coaches long. The train came to a complete halt, and the doors hissed open.
"Mind the gap," the voice on the Tannoy Speakers echoed clearly across the platform.
The “gap” referred to the several inches of space between the edge of the train platform and the floor of the open train doorway. To fall into this gap meant instant danger—either a fatal accident or, at best, a badly sprained or broken ankle. Despite being only six inches wide at most, this treacherous gap claimed the lives or injured hundreds of clumsy commuters each week. People shuffled through the doors like sheep heading for a bath, and a single moment of distraction or carelessness could turn you into an unfortunate statistic. Fortunately, the train was mercifully half-empty.
Several stations East bound, and Mike’s Train was rolling into Sloane Square Station. His Train ride had been an Underground one, whipping into day light as the Train passed into a station, but between the Coaches were plunged into momentary darkness then the lights went on- it was an eerie experience. Plummeting through the Bowel of the Earth. Through Tunnels that had been hand-dug by generations of Londoners for the past.
This was it, SLOANE Square Train Station, the place where Mike needed to get off. Wedging his way between a throng of disembarking fellow passengers, all traveling in relative silence amongst each other, Mike got off the Train and hurried down the Platform towards the Stairwell up under an Exit sign. His progress being propelled by the Crowds.
‘To Buses above,’ stated a Sign above, much to Mike’s delight.
Four flights of stairs and a tunnel or two, and he was transitioning into a Daylit world above. He stopped to look at a sign of Bus Routes that would take him to Clapham from this Station. He had a choice: The number 19 and 345 Bus Routes would take him approximately Twenty-nine Minutes and take him on a more circuitous Journey through Chelsea, across the River Thames. Then through Battersea on the opposite side of the river. It was too convoluted. Mike wanted to cut to the chase and get to Clapham directly if possible. The next option was the Number 452—getting better at an average trip of Twenty-seven Minutes. The most Direct Route, however, was on the Number 137. This would take approximately Twenty-two Minutes. And can be caught just across the Road from the Station. Mike needed to cross Holbein Place outside the Sloane Square Subway station to catch his connection to Clapham. He easily located the required Bus Stop—checked the Bus Schedule on the attached Shelter Post, to verify the route, and then just had to wait.
He did not have to wait long, about fifteen Minutes. Time enough for him to run over in his head how he would open the conversation on the off chance he located Kate. It would be difficult to discuss Mark, who Kate thought was dead? An overly sensitive subject. But he would have to gain her interest almost immediately to capture her attention and take things from there. Mike was now wondering if he ought to have attempted to see Kate yesterday, instead of doing so much running about. But the trip back to his Bank was a priority for his Finances. The mystery just got a whole lot deeper. Mike was stressing more over how Kate would react to any news of Mark today?
The number 317 Bus finally arrived. The experience would represent a Passport to a different and yet unexplored Realm of options. Mike can put to rest his friend Mark’s explanation of her Boyfriend’s fate. Probably not! This was a Mission Impossible. But he would try his tactfully best to better explain a more reasonable version of Mark’s situation. Mark had told Mike so much about Kate that Mike almost felt that he knew her. He hoped the two should meet today. Time will tell.
Mike got on the number 317, making his way upstairs. He did his best to keep his eyes lowered and much of his face concealed within the shadows of his Hoodie to avoid anyone looking at his face for too long a time, just in case someone should notice his facial condition of transient transparency in small parts of his face. This had been a condition that was becoming worse= and Mike was confused as to how far this would develop?
As the Bus pulled away, he settled down on a bench seat at the back of the Bus and looked out the window to his left. The Bus Conductor came around, and Mike paid his fare to Clapham High Street. The Bus Conductor moved along to collect other fare monies from a couple of new Passengers who also came upstairs and issued them Tickets. The Conductor turning a Handle on the Ticket Machine, as it spat out small spools of paper Tickets to be ripped off by the operator and handed to each new Passenger in turn. Mike was left to his thoughts on what some of the things Mark had told him. Mike was recalling some of these comments in order... and a flashback of Mark’s and his conversations occurred.
“When I first met Kate, it was at our first School, Belville Primary, just a few streets away from where both of us were living as kids. We became fast friends. But as we grew older, our interests changed, and we grew apart. When we left that School, we both went our own ways to different Secondary Schools. Some years later, it was at a School Dance that my School was putting on that I met up with Kate again. It was more like a Disco. An opportunity for kids to mingle in a less formal setting than regular school days. A friend of Kate’s was also at my school and had invited her along to the Dance. I saw her, and we chatted. I fell in love. But when a slow song came on, I never asked her for a Dance, I was too shy. She did not approach me as was not usually a done thing, but remained sitting alone on a chair watching other kids pair up. I hesitated. Very much to my regret later that night. Someone snatched her up mid-way through the Song. She was beaming at this attention. I had missed out and was mad at my lost opportunity.”
In what seemed like a small eternity, Mike’s Bus arrived at Clapham Common and where the High Street begins. He would pull the Bell Cord to get off, but some other Passenger had already done so. He would be getting off at this point now, so as not to miss or overshoot the Hairdresser shop he was looking for. A good foot Reconnaissance would work best. Mike had overshot his Bus stop yesterday; besides, any extra walking time would give him more chance to prepare how best to open the conversation if he were so fortunate to meet up with Kate. He would have to confront this problem head-on he supposed. He had come a long way to meet Kate, in fact, a whole much further than anyone would ever believe. And did not want to disappoint.
Walking up the High Street, Mike was almost thinking that a little bit of him hoped Kate would no longer be employed at Teddy’s Salon, or on a day off perhaps- a SICK DAY even. This would spare him the awkwardness of what he had to say to her. The cover story would play out like this, Mark was alive. And quite well. He was being held against his free will by a foreign group that wants him to play Music in a Band, to a select audience. He was being treated very well, and wanted for nothing, except Kate. It is overseas, (an understatement), and Mike was Guitarist in this four-piece Band with Mark, but he escaped and came to make a connection with Kate on Mark’s behalf. This is where the barrage of questions will fly at him, and things get sticky or fly off the Rails. He will deflect to what his own discoveries have been and ask Kate to check out any ‘Donations’ or ‘Lump sum deposits’ to her name, or in Mark’s, left in lieu of Mark’s vanishing. Anything from any anonymous ‘Benevolence Funds’? And if so, it is from the same Organisation that took both He and Mark.
Mike also had the added discomfort of knowing that his face was starting to fade in small areas. This would be very awkward if noticed in the Salon. He would have to be very discreet and keep his interactions with anyone as brief as possible, but without arousing any suspicion that his presence was not one of a sinister nature. He would see about talking with Kate away from the workplace. Plan to go for a meeting in a public place such as a Pub for example, while sitting outside. Mike believed that his skin area was becoming infected in general, except that he cannot see areas underneath his own clothing. This is the latest manifestation in a long string of mysteries and surprises. Little shocked him anymore.
Two blocks up and no Teddy’s yet. Butterflies were fluttering badly in Mike’s guts. He had the sudden urge to turn back and catch the same number 317 Bus back in the opposite direction from whence he came. But it was too late to back out now.
Three blocks up and still no Teddy’s. The anticipation was chewing away at Mike’s very being. He felt as if his Soul was on fire. Still nothing.... the Business had changed names. This was crazy. He scanned both sides of the High Street in vain.
Four blocks now, Mike was feeling light-headed and almost giddy with his nerves.
Then he saw it!! A small, black painted storefront- just a few dozen yards ahead on his side of the Street. ‘Teddy’s Salon.’ Mike felt a wave of relief, mixed with trepidation wash through him. He had little idea recalling what Kate looked like, besides, she is a Hairdresser, so how Mark described her, and what she may look like today could be anyone’s guess? Mark had said she was a Punk Rocker, now a back-up Singer in a small Punk Rock group that played local Clubs. She was seen by Mark playing a Gig and the feelings he harboured for her two years earlier at his School’s Disco Dance were re-ignited in a few seconds. He made sure if she were not taken with a Boyfriend at the time, he would try to win her over. Mark had mentioned she had Black, spiked Hair, liked to wear Torn, Fish-net Stockings and form-fitting Leggings or tights. Dressing to show off her shapely legs and liked to wear Bangle Earrings. Whether she still dressed like this, or appeared like it even in the workplace, was another matter? Mike stood up as straight as he could, showing confidence and putting on a brave smile. Keeping his Hoodie edges projecting forward like a Monk’s Robe, with the sides of his face within the Hoodie’s shadow. Always mindful to not to show his face so openly now, he took a deep breath, then walked up to the front door and entered the Salon.
“Hello Sir! One of us will be right there.” said a girl cutting a Man’s hair as she looked up at Mike.
“No worries. I have not made any Appointment today, I ‘ll take a seat for now.” Mike replied spontaneously.
“Righto!” the same girl answered back.
Mike took a seat on a Sofa in a waiting area in the front of the Salon. He took in the scene before him.
Inside the door of the Salon was this seating and waiting area, a row of six low chairs and this Sofa that Mike was already sitting upon. It was a no-frills Furniture sort of Salon, at least in the front end, but the Chairs customers would take their Hair appointments in were looking clean, shiny, and top notch. That seemed to be where the money was spent here. A Television was on a cupboard tucked in a corner of the waiting area where Mike sat. It was not on. There was another cupboard alongside it crammed with Hair Products, various cans of sprays, bottles of Gels, and Aerosol cans of Hair Mousse. In front of Mike there was a desk and a short penny wall which separated the waiting area in front, from the Hairdressing stations at the back of the Salon. Mike could see there were four adjustable height Hairdressing chairs which faced sideways towards an equal number of four lengthy Mirrors on the right wall. Beneath these Mirrors were rows of low Shelving units that contained Blow Dryers, Scissors, Combs, Bristle brushes and the usual assortment of items required by a Hair Stylist to do their magic. Opposite to these Hair Stations and down the middle of the Salon against the left Wall of the premises were a row of four identical Sinks and four matching chairs tipped back to overhang these Sinks.
At one of the Hairdressing Chairs, a woman wearing an Apron was weeping a small pile of black hairs into a heap, to be swept off the Salon floor and into a Dustpan on a stick. Another woman was working on a Customer’s Hair on the next chair over, while casually chatting with them. A Radio somewhere was playing a Reggae Song at a Volume lower than medium range, calming enough as a background noise, while still permitting people to talk and converse at a comfortable level. As Mike surveyed the Salon, a third woman emerged from a room at the back of the business, parting a wall of Stringed, hanging beads that doubled as a doorway. These Beads jangled and danced as they were parted by the passage of a Human Body. The woman from the back room approached the Salon’s counter and Mike. She looked to be an attractive woman in her late twenties to early thirties, with strawberry blonde hair. She was wearing Blue Jeans and a White sweater.
“Can I help you Sir?” She offered. Her voice sounding high.
“Er...yes mam, I was wondering if I could have a word with one of your staff here, a Kate?” answered Mike.
Mike remained sitting on the Sofa, his body language relaxed, but deep inside, he was fighting his nerves to find the right words to say.
“Kate, yes-she will be here in ten to fifteen minutes. She was supposed to be in at three o-clock, but she is coming in a little earlier as we have a few extra clients with appointments to see today.” the woman stated. “I’m Teddy, this is my place.”
“Great! You have a nice Salon here Teddy.” Mike said as a complimentary opener.
“Is there something I may help you with if you are waiting for her, a Coffee perhaps?” Teddy was fishing.
“No thank you Teddy, I just wanted to say ‘Hi’ and that we have a mutual good friend. My name is Mike by the way, Mike Parris,” Mike felt by giving Teddy his name, it ought to help put Teddy at ease a little with this stranger in her business, asking after one of her Staff members.
“Well, let me know if you need anything, Kate is trying to keep herself busy these days.” Teddy remarked.
“Yes...” Mike involuntarily agreed, while nodding in acknowledgement.
He thought he ought to remove himself from this Salon for the duration. To kill some time by going window shopping further up the street. Hairdressing premises are notorious gossip mills, so before he is boxed in with more questions a wise trip up the road be in order.
“I think I shall take advantage of these cool and interesting shops and stores you have here on this High Street Teddy and go for a stroll.” Mike said. “Make my way back here in say, fifteen to twenty minutes.”
“Okay, go and enjoy yourself luv, see you in a bit then.” answered Teddy.
Mike took this opportunity to skedaddle out of the Salon before he was asked any further questions that could go sideways with his face, or cause suspicions with his covering Hoodie. Dealing with Kate when it came down to that will be difficult enough. No point in putting out more than one for at a time. But overall, he had been extremely successful in not only locating Kate’s workplace but had a time in which he will be meeting up with her.
Going out of the Salon, Mike continued up the High Street in the direction he had been walking prior to locating Teddy’s. He could be walking straight past her for all he knew—but did not know her by looks. Anyways... there were quite a few shops, eateries, a Betting Shop Grocery stores along this walk. He even passed the storefront of the Socialist Party of Great Britain. He had little interest in Politics right now.
Rounding off the fourth and fifth street blocks, he was heading towards a Railway Bridge at what seemed the end of the road. This Bridge bisected Clapham High Street and he could see it continued further under the Bridge’s Archways. There appeared to be six or seven archways now ahead of him and extending beneath the Railway Bridge. These Archways were now converted into shops neatly tucked under this Bridge. There standing on the Corner directly in front of Mike on this last block he was walking, was an old, iconic Local Pub, ‘The Railway.’ It had stood on this spot, the corner of Voltaire Street and Clapham High Street North, for many decades.
This seemed location to fit the sort of place Mike imaged having his talk with Kate at. He needed to find a location in which to talk privately, but by also to gain her trust in, other than in leaving the Salon in which to join him in a drink here. At one of the several Outside Tables that were arranged on two corners of this old Pub. This would be perfect. Still in a Public place, but intimate enough so as not to be disturbed by others. She should feel at ease in this venue, and not think Mike be plotting any actions of a nefarious nature. Unless of course she wanted to go someplace else she preferred? A different place she may feel more familiar with, relaxed or comfortable in. He would hardly wish to insist they come here, after all, he was not here to scare her...and she did not know him.
Mike wandered past the outside Tables of this Pub, then curious, he poked his head inside to check out the interior. Looking inside, Mike immediately noticed the Fine Parquet Flooring that was patterned in Concentric Squares of slatted wood in a pleasing design. The Ceiling itself was an array of Bronzed and Dark tiles of square, metallic looking and reflecting decoration. The long, L-shaped Bar was painted a light green colour. The several high tables were inside the pub were set with high bar Stools. There arranged over these Tables were low-hung sets of lights. The same arrangement of Bar stools was dotted along the length of the Green Bar itself. There appeared to be ample seating inside. Mike was welcomed by a lively Pub atmosphere with an upbeat spirit. This place as a meeting place would more than do.
Then Mike looked at his wristwatch, dammit! He decided it was time to be heading back to Teddy’s Salon. Making tracks back down the High Street, sooner than later. Leaving this Pub behind him, Mike thought what a handy spot this would serve in which to establish a rapport with Kate. He only hoped she would be agreeable to leave the Salon with a total stranger. He realised that someone who is offering information about her missing Boyfriend should be intriguing enough a subject to make that a probability. Besides, if all else fails, he has his facial transformations to further convince her as a last resort. Getting someone he had never met before, to believe in an incredible story, can never be an easy feat. The possibilities of where this meeting can go seemed endless.
Walking back to Teddy’s, he noticed a young woman walking ahead of him. They were about half a block from the Salon now. He had the thought that this could be Kate herself. He could not help noticing that his walking pace was similar in speed to her own, so he slowed up a little so as not to pass her, nor cut her off to go into the Salon. What was his hurry after all? The girl had a long shock of Blonde Hair, which moved rhythmically when she walked. Mike imagined she would look pretty if he saw her face. She wore a leopard-patterned pair of legging beneath a long black coat, quite suitable for this Late-spring weather. Her black footwear seemed to resemble running shoes, adequately comfortable for walking in. A small, black handbag was slung across her chest to hang on her right side, suspended from a black string styled strap with gold-coloured Clips. They both seemed to be approaching Teddy’s Salon.
Suddenly Mike’s attention was momentarily distracted by a Dog barking furiously behind him. This forced Mike to stop and turn behind him to investigate this mental intrusion. He could see that a man walking his Dog was tugging at the lease that tethered his pet at the Collar. The Dog, a white Poodle, strained at the Lease as it lunged towards a Cat that was positioned in a shop doorway nearby. This Cat had raised itself onto all fours and had arched it’s back in a futile effort to make it seem larger. It was hissing at the Poodle now, spitting fake fury at this errant and tormenting Canine. The dog’s owner pulled it back into line, giving this Dog commands to leave the Cat alone. The Dog obeyed and backed off. Mike turned back in the direction he had been walking in before this rude commotion had begun and continued his journey. He noticed that the girl ahead of him had gone. No matter. In a few more seconds, Mike had covered the distance to Teddy’s. He pulled up his Hoodie again, and taking another deep breath entered the Salon.
As he walked into the Salon, Mike saw a beautiful blonde girl removing a black Coat and disappearing behind a curtain of Beads into the backroom, he caught a fleeting glimpse she was wearing animal patterned Leggings. Another Hairdresser obviously. Mike sat down on one of the Chairs in the waiting area, as the Sofa was now occupied by a middle-aged woman, a customer waiting for her Hair appointment. Mike was really, really wanting to run back outside and make his way back to West Kensington- scrapping the whole bad idea of a Plan dead in its tracks. But...no! ...This was to be the ‘Do or Die’ moment.
As he pondered his panicked indecision, Teddy the owner, and the girl walked back out from the room in the back and parted these protesting Beads of a curtain. Teddy pointed at Mike, saying something quick to the Blonde girl. This IS Kate Mike realised! She looked over at Mike, and after wearing no expression, she changed into a broad smile and walked across to where Mike was seated. He stood up... and threw out his right hand in a friendly handshake. The girl struck Mike as very pretty indeed, had a charming smile with a pair of the deepest Blue Eyes Mike had ever seen.
“I’m Mike, Mike Parris,” almost faltering in his words.
“Hello, I am Kate, what brings you here?” She seemed to be searching his Face for someone she knew or recognized. He had been dreading this level of scrutiny, and mad that he was fading in small spotted areas on occasion. Why now of all times?!
“I came here to...to meet up with you...on the promise of a friend of ours, Mark Evans.” Mike tilted his head slightly as if to see if Kate even cared.
Kate’s face changed, the smile dropping from her mouth, which opened into a small gape. Her eyes grew wider. That got her attention he thought.
“It’s quite a story Kate, I will need some time to explain it- not too long, but this is not the best place to do so. I would like to discuss this someplace more discreet. I was here earlier to see you...” Mike explained.
“Yes, Teddy told me. How long have you known Mark for?” Kate pushed.
“I have known him for nowhere as long as you have Kate. Not since the two of you were Kids in Primary School. He has told me so much about you, that I had to say 'Hello,’ that's all.” Mike was trying to open the conversation, but no to alarm her.
A sound, a Hairbrush got dropped by another Hairdresser who was giving a Hair Cut to a customer nearby. There was considerable eavesdropping happening and the mere mention of Mark’s name was enough to loosen the grip on the Hairbrush. Obviously, this was an extremely sensitive subject around this shop. Mike felt like he was trying to move within a large Beehive without disturbing the Bees. If he were to remain there for much longer, the Bees will be let loose upon him. He continued...
“I do not want to take up too much of your time here Kate- I know you have work to do and customers' Hair to cut, I just wanted to discuss Mark with you. You would be interested I thought?” Mike said inquiringly.
“Oh Yes! yes indeed I am, it’s been so difficult a time,” Kate said, as if she could break out into a sob. “I have a customer, as soon as Beverley here is done with her current customer in the Chair.” Kate had pointed to the girl who had dropped her Brush.
“Hi Beverley.” Mike said looking across at her. They exchanged quick looks, Mike looked back at Kate.
“Hiya.” Beverely offered back.
Teddy approached coming up behind Kate, who had overheard the start of their conversation. Teddy spoke up now.
“Kate, if you want me to cover your customer here” --pointing to the lady on the Sofa reading a Magazine...” If you need to catch up with your friend...Mike here.... we were introduced earlier; that is okay with me dear. Take half an hour since you had come in early anyway.”
“Well, he is not my friend but claims to be a friend of Mark’s. I have never met Mike before in my Life. What is more, Mark has never mentioned Mike to me. “Kate stated. She was now starting to view Mike with a slight air of suspicion. Mike tried to recover.
“Thats true. The conversations I have had with Mark have been about Kate and many other things also. He is a new friend of mine.”
“IS?” Kate blurted out. “He’s ALIVE?!?” Kate grew excited. Mike dreaded this happening in the Shop.
“Let me dial this back,” cupping his Hands to his nose like a prayer symbol, “he's ‘Missing’ is he not?” Mike opened his Hands like a fan downwards, in a gesture to regain control of the situation.
“Well yes, the Police think he drowned, he was careful...so bloody Careful. They could find no Boat. His Fishing Boat that is....so that is the mystery. They think he did himself in, but we refuse to write him off. Family that is.” Mike could sense the pain in Kate’s words and in her pretty face but could only offer sympathy here—and not the truth. Not here. Kate continued, “Why the missing Boat too? It had to have been taken, stolen, so that would involve others.” Kate was adamant Mark would never take his own life, correct in her belief there was more to it, involving others.
“Maybe a coffee at a table outside, around people, but somewhere I can catch up with you on Mark? I found a place on my short stroll waiting to meet you, it is only one block up the road, 'The Railway Pub,’ we can sit outside, unless of course, there is someplace else you would rather go to?” Mike added. “It is your call, Kate; I can’t stay long either.”
“Go Honey, go have your chat with Mike", Teddy pressed, “it sounds like you need to hear things sweetheart. You can catch us up later Kate, I’ll cover your customer.”
Kate looked at Mike, and issued a warning...
“If this is some kind of a trick, or a cruel Prank, I swear I’ll have ya!” Kate had clenched her Fists and shook one at Mike face, insinuating he would be eating some of her Knuckles for dinner. This impressed him, she could obviously handle herself.
“No tricks Kate, I have some burning questions of my own, and some things I want to sort out as well. I figured we could help each other out, and fill in some blanks? I miss Mark too.” He assured her.
Kate stared at Mike, then said.
“Okay, ‘The Railway’ it is then-I know it well. I’ve played there with my Band, ‘The Rockets’”.
“Yes, I’m in a Band as well,” Mike interjected. “We don’t actually have a name officially. ‘The Starman’ Band, or perhaps ’Starband’ sounds better. I guess we could call ourselves something like that.”
“What sort of Music do you play?” Kate inquired.
“Heavy Rock, 1960s-70s stuff, that's about it, and a few more classic Band material... like some Beatles, etc.” Mike explained.
“You Drum too?”
“No, I play Lead Guitar and do some back-up Vocals. I also write Songs, but none that we play.” Mike was beginning to feel comfortable in the company of a fellow Musician. He felt as if he were being attracted to this very intriguing Woman.
“I’ll grab my Coat.” As Kate walked to the back of the Salon to do just that.
“I’ll be outside Kate.” Mike relayed.
“Just be a Minute then.” said Kate from the other end of the Shop.
“Nice to meet you, Teddy.” Mike said in turning to look at Kate’s employer.” I won’t keep her long.”
“Better not, we’re busy today.” Teddy said smiling.
“See ya later.” Said Mike heading out the front door.
“Ta Ta Mike.” Teddy concluded.
Then Mike left the Salon. A wave of relief overtook him, and he walked out into the High Street. Now comes the sensitive stuff he thought. He will play it cool until they are both seated at the ‘Railway’ Pub with two drinks in front of them.
A minute later while Mike was watching a Bus trundle past, Kate was there beside him.
“Shall we be off then; I have a few Haircuts to do at the Shop today, so just one quick drink Mike. Thirty Minutes tops.” Kate requested. They began walking back up the High Street to the North end of it.
“Absolutely Kate, that is all I have time for too.” Replied Mike. "Maybe we can sit outside, the Sun has come out now and it isn’t that cold. Unless you would rather be inside?”
“No, I like fresh air. I spend enough time inside the place when we do Gigs there.”
The two were making decent headway in walking up the High Street chatting it up, while getting closer to the Pub.
“What Instrument do you play?” Mike asked. Kate had not said earlier.
“I help with some back-up Singing, and you are a Lead, right?” She replied.
“Yeah! I’ve been playing Guitar since I was eight years old. And yourself, you are in a Punk Rock Band, correct?”
“How do you know that? I never said that in the shop.” Kate was curious.
“Mark told me.” That seemed to stop her talking for a long pause. They walked on...
“I am sorry Kate; I didn’t want to” .... Kate interrupted him.
“Thats okay, I ought to be used to it by now, but the sudden separation, the severance, I loved him so much...we were like...” Mike cut her off.
“I know.” Mike verified, sympathetic towards her.
Kate stopped in her Tracks Spun around and slapped Mike’s right arm with her fingertips...
“What the FUCK do YOU KNOW!?” Mike had hit a nerve. “I don’t know YOU, and YOU don’t know ME, so you can quit pretending to understand what I have been going through anytime now! For fucks sakes!!” This girl has a temper.
Mike couldn’t wait until he tried to convince her Boyfriend Mark, was sucked up by Aliens and is now playing to entertain Monkey-Parrot people a hundred Light years away!! Sigh! He would lose some Teeth for certain.
“Forgive my clumsiness Kate. I meant you no harm. I cannot imagine things have been easy for you at all.”
“Well, they HAVN’T have they, what else does someone go through when their Partner ‘Vanishes’.” Clearly Kate was incensed.
Since Kate was yelling at him and had assaulted him too—Mike grew PISSED- he threw off his Hoodie, and no longer giving a flying fuck if bits of his face Vanished in turn and Kate got to see THAT! Serve her right. Freak her out, for a REAL reason. Someone else can see what HE has going through now. And hear HIS Story. Not the best reaction, but Mike had clearly had enough of pussyfooting about in the shadows. Let the shit things fly.
“I need to ask YOU some questions Kate, you are NOT the only Victim here. Like have you been getting Lump Sums of Money, as ‘payment’ for losing Mark? while you have been away for four or five Months? Has your Boss been getting paid to keep your Job open for the same length of time? Has your property owner been getting Anonymous Donations from some.... whatever.... Bullshit Fucking Benevolence Fund—to keep their /MY apartment empty in my Absence...have you had Two Hundred Quids-worth of food gone rotten in your fridge too? Have you been getting Ten Thousand Pounds deposited in your Bank Account for the past several Months? Were you abducted like I was too, and Mark..in a big white Light. And I got away to talk about ALL this to you... I made him the Promise! I didn’t go through all this crap to be slapped and sworn at by you... I am ONLY here—to see YOU as I made a Promise to Mark that if I ever got away, I would do THIS.... for HIM!!” Mike was pissed.
They had arrived at the ‘Railway’ Pub. Kate seemed dumb struck! This tirade had been building up. And it felt awesome to be free of it. Mike had to get it off his chest, and just come out with it, let the chips fall where they will.
“Fuck, I need a Drink! What will it be? “Mike demanded to know.
The two stared at one another for some time, like a pair of Boxers waiting for the other to make a first move. Kate pulled a quizzical look on her face, her head tilted to one side, she was looking at Mike oddly...then pulled her head back and gave a startled expression.
“What the fuck? Gin and Tonic... please, with Ice.”
“Right then, I don’t blame you if I come back outside and you have gone. For Mark’s sake- don't go yet! Hear me out,” said Mike in more composed and controlled manner.
Mike tugged up his Hood and walked inside to buy their drinks. He left Kate in wonder at the blast she received, in yet, there was something that attracted her to stay, a fascination of mystery. Somethings that Mike said sounded so real, he was bloody serious. He had a forceful nature when pushed, when tested. She had tested him. It all sounded so convincing...and his face, she had noticed a couple of patches of his Jawline and cheek bone fade away, then return. How can that be? That alone, caused her to remain.
Emerging from the Bar, Mike was happy to find a now more subdued Kate, still sitting at one of the outside Tables. She was pulling her coat around her. He passed her the Gin and Tonic and had a Pint of Lager himself-spilling some foam off the top, he sat down across from her and took a sip.
“Are you cold Kate? Want to go inside where it is warmer?”
“No, just a little in shock to be honest. I will be all right. Can’t help thinking about all what you said back there.”
“Look Kate, are you up for what I am about to tell you?” Mike said.
“I have lost a Soulmate, without any explanation at all. The Police are taking the piss out of me, saying he killed himself, yet can’t explain where his Boat is? Nor any Body to be found. There is no victim support, just family, friends, and co-workers. I have not been around any other men since Mark went missing many months ago. And I have been just burying myself in my Job, and my own sorrows.” Kate’s eyes were welling up.
“There is nothing wrong with feeling some self-pity, Kate. It is a Human Reaction. So too is look for some answers. I hope I can provide some, as I hope you can do so for myself. This is my fifth day in London, and after a good sleep tonight, I plan to get away to my aunt’s place in Wales to lay low for some time. Catch a Train there. I will figure it out how best to get there, but I am on the run Kate, a Fugitive.” Mike was very solemn now, and giving good eye contact, he pulls his hood back again to reveal his face, “I must discover what is happening to my Body, to this face of mine?”
He knew Kate had seen his face change. He continued...
” Mark is not dead Kate; he is alive and very well. He is wanting for nothing, except needing yourself...” Kate started to sniff back tears. “I was taken by the same people who took Mark, and two others, Neil, and Patrick. Patrick was the first, some six months ago, while he was taking a Break between sets in a Gig. He is suffering. Neil was taken, from a Phone box. Mark from a Fishing Trip on Lake Windemere-they took the bloody Boat too! I have seen it. It is outside the Instrument warehouse. What we call ‘the Sound house’.”
“RUBBISH! Total Shite! You expect me to swallow this Bullshit, hook, line, and sinker! You are IN on this yourself aren’t you!” Kate was building herself up again...
“No, Kate, No. We have been formed into a Band—and made to play to... let me say, to entertain... a very select audience. But I have been able to break free...”
“And you have been paid handsomely for this, to come here and lie to me...what sort of a SICK Bastard are you!” Kate was getting angry again.
“The kind of sick Bastard who is having his Body disappear a little more each and every day I stay here, that what kind!” Mike held up his hands... And portions of his Hands were fading in and out, as was patches on his Face and head now. He pulled over his Hood once more and took an exceptionally long swig of his Lager, nearly downing it in one. “Oddly enough, I am still not springing any leaks at this point yet?”
Kate looked down and picked up her Gin and Tonic to drink clearly half of this as well. She shook her head, smirked, took an Ice cube, and bounced it off Mike’s Head. It ricocheted off his forehead and bounced back to strike Kate chest, then fell under their table. That was an unpredictable action on Kate’s part, and not at all what Mike was expecting.
“I guess you are still solid enough to not have an Ice Cube pass through you yet!”
Mike cracked a smile—and then laughed. I suppose this was Kate way of ‘breaking the Ice.’ This simple behaviour broke the tensions between them both and a friendship seemed to have been born. Mike got an inkling there was some attraction from Kate towards himself but remembered why he was there. This was for Mark, not for himself. He needed answers, and an ally. Not a Girlfriend. Kate spoke up...
“Mark’s parents have been getting Lump sum Payments in their Bank Account! And so, have I too. Liscombe Benevolence Fund...the same group!”
“Oh my God! It is the same organisation that took all four of us! I don’t know why this is happening, perhaps to try and undo the harm that these disappearances create? Trying to push back some of the badness it leaves behind, to mitigate as many negative effects as possible from some loved one’s absence. Thats all I can think of why? There seems to be no shortages of Money in our disappearances. A Bottomless Pit of generosity”. Mike was verbalizing his own theories, Kate seemed to be on his same page too.
“No expense is spared, except for the return of our loved ones. For now, we are expected to turn a blind eye.” Kate surmised.
“It isn't happening, is it?” Mike agreed.
“No, it is not. I want him Back!". Kate blurted—draining the remains of her drink.
“And I want to stay Kate. Believe me I do...” Mike did, likewise, finishing his Lager.
Mike took out a Pen he carries and on a Paper Drink Mat on the Table—jotted down his address, pushing it towards Kate.
“This is where I live, my Phone has been cut off as I was not here to pay the Bill.”
Kate took out a small notepad from her Purse, and with Mike’s Pen, jotted down her Address and Phone number.
“Where is he? Abroad? If you see him again, and if he can, tell him to call me. Tell him I love him!” Kate was crying.
Mike reached across and squeezed her hand two or three times, and then let it go again.
“I would have to say we are overseas, yes, considerably overseas, and yet I am unsure where or what the place is called. My Memory of escape has been wiped out, just it would seem that they are trying to re-call me. Hence the fading away... each morning I awake- I am in terrible pain and feel like I am burning all over...it gets worse by the day. This is day five.” He was almost apologetic that it was he, and not Mark, who sat across from Kate.
They both felt emotionally drained and exchanged several more pieces of information quietly. Mike re-told Kate the story of when Mark and she first met—and the School Disco dance. That he wanted to ask her so madly for a dance, yet hesitated and lost her for two more years until seeing her performing in a Gig. Of the Tattoo she had on her inner thigh, a purple swallow. Only Mark would have known of this. He told her his Boss had a work order too big to handle and needed additional staff to fulfil the contract order. Of Guitar Cases and storage Boxes for these and other Instruments he supposed. How these were picked up in secret, and how nobody ever saw where they went-nor who took them? Mike gave Kate his landlord’s address, names, his Boss’s name, the business address—so she can check all this out to be truthful Information. Mike’s Bank and its location, he went over the deposits, and of all the people he aforementioned above, were getting. Totally transparency. Amazing masses of complete Honesty. Kate jotted it all down vociferously into her Notebook. Devouring this information. She might go to the Police; they have not been that much help thus far. Mike was not concerned— (there was no power on Earth that could take on the Ardoccans) ...Any amount of Police would be no good. The only people who would genuinely care would be the Taxman, so they could get their hands on undeclared Capital Gains Taxes and rob every individual prospering from these disappearances. Mike warned Kate of that, could lose everything to audits... or be quiet about it. She would ponder that too.
Before long, it was time to get up and go. Thirty minutes was almost up. Mike and Kate began to wander back down Clapham High Street. These experiences having given birth to a new friendship. A shared agony of loss of Persons, privacy, and innocence.
Mike escorted the beautiful Kate back to the doorway of the shop. He had convinced her of his honesty and amazed her with minute details that only Mark and she should be privy to. He had avoided talking about space monsters and inter-stellar travels, or spaceships and weird, huge Aliens. And little furry ones too. Mike's nightmare was done for this day. Tomorrow is another day though
He bade her goodbye, and did not make her any promises when the two shall meet again. He was adrift in a sea of uncertainty and lost upon the Oceans of the unknown. Time was his ally, and on the threads of its Fabric, he would ride.
For now, he would be riding a Number 317 Bus across the street back to Sloane square Train station. This day was incredibly fatiguing for him, and all he wanted to do was to get home, lay on his bed and go to sleep.
It had been a day.
{END OF CHAPTER XIV (14) / ‘KATE’}.