Old weird stuff 

I've been writing bits and bobs since ever. Here's an earlier thing. The working title was The Valley Girl.

It was a pleasant evening. The air was warm and birds twittered and chirped at one another as Andrew waited for the bus. Checking his watch he noted it was another twenty minutes before it was due. So he decided to walk home. Had he known what was to transpire he would have wisely chosen to damn well wait like a good patient commuter. Andrew was not feeling patient and didn't like the bus trip home. He felt the driver contrived to hit every bump and pothole. He also liked walking and was in no hurry to get home.

 

Andrew walked to the corner store and bought a coke. He then began my walk home, reading his book and drinking the coke. He decided he would cross the common, walk down the road, cut through St Andrews and stop off at The Exminster for dinner before getting home for bed. A fine, lazy evening.

 

Had Andrew not been engrossed in his book he may have noticed the odd encampment on the common. This in itself was not unusual. The common was used by gypsies, caravan folk, travellers and others as a place to camp. Few however travelled in heavily tinted cars, caravans with blacked-out windows and heavy tents that would not of looked out of place in a Mongol horde.

 

When Andrew reached the graveyard in St Andrews he noticed the gate was shut. Which was odd, it was always open. Considerable effort had gone into closing it. Bushes had been recently cleared. The hinges gleamed with oil and a mark on the paving indicated where it had been dragged shut. Andrew reached for the latch and recoiled as it shocked him. It was quite a jolt and left his arm twitching for a few seconds. When he had recovered somewhat he touched the gate again. This time there was no shock so he dragged the gate open enough to squeeze through and went on in.

 

There were several other people in the cemetery. Two, dressed in black were running off. Andrew figured them as kids caught fooling about. The other six were hunched and dressed in rags. Homeless. He hadn't thought that a problem here. One of them approached Andrew and mumbled something.

 

"I'm sorry. I haven't got..." Andrew paused as his brain registered what he was looking at. 

 

The figure had originally been tall but was now hunched and doubled over. The skin was grey and dirty, still covered in mud and dirt. Here and there was the hint of a bone protruding from the remains. But what most shocked Andrew were the empty eye sockets in which flared a white, crackling light. It was a zombie! Just like in the movies. Andrew was dimly aware of the others surrounding him, mumbling as they shuffled forwards. But there was nothing he could do, it was unreal. Zombies didn't exist.

 

There was an explosion and the front zombie's head exploded in a shower of bone and muck. Some of it splattered on Andrew's coat. There was another explosion. A Zombie fell over as it's knee disintegrated. There was a chonking sound and a voice.

 

"What are you doing. They're the undead. Run!" it yelled.

 

Andrew turned. There was a short, young woman standing on the cemetery wall. She was dressed in a large green raincoat and way too much jewellery. Most striking was the fearsome, double-barreled shotgun she had just reloaded and brought up to fire. It was pointed right at him.

 

"And duck," she called out.

 

Andrew threw himself flat and there were two more explosions. He got up and ran towards the woman with the shotgun. The shotgun fired again and then she jumped behind the wall. As Andrew cleared it he noticed she was working a short metal tube. The shotgun lay beside her. Andrew crouched down as she poked the tube over the wall.

 

There was a dull thump, everything went white and then a large explosion rocked him. Andrew hung onto the ground.

He stayed there for what seemed a long time, trying to banish the images from his head.

 

"Come on you. We have to leave." the woman said.

 

"What? Why?" he said. The entire world had gone mad. Or was it just him?

 

"The bad guys are getting away. The good guys are on their way and will want to know why I've set a historical landmark on fire. And lastly. I am a princess. I can have your head chopped off if you don't obey." she said.

 

Andrew decided to get up and follow her. They ran back to the road and headed for the common. They were just in time to see several black tinted station wagons driving off. The woman pulled out the metal tube looked at it and swore in a language Andrew didn't understand. She put it back under the raincoat and pulled out a cellphone.

 

"Melnep here. Total cock-up. Should be on the news, Bad guys got away and I've got a witness. Need extraction." she paused. "Okay, got that," she said and put the cellphone away. She turned to face Andrew and retrieved the fourth device from her coat.

 

"What's going on. Who are you? What are you?" Andrew said.

 

"I am Melnep, Daughter of Horus, Princess of the Kingdom," she said. She pointed the boxy device at him "And I won't lie to you. This. Will. Hurt." She pressed a stud on the side, Andrew felt an immense stab of pain everywhere, screamed and fell over.

 

 

Andrew woke to a dull thumping. He was in a stretcher in an ambulance. Various bumps and stops told him it was moving. Melnep was riding in the back with him. She looked up.

 

"You're awake. Not normal. Oh well. Who are you?" she said.

 

Andrew tried to take in his surroundings. He was definitely not in an ambulance. Ambulances have all manner of medical devices and tools for keeping people alive. This had an overabundance of weapons. Swords, guns, knives, knives on sticks, Also jewellery. Amulets, bracelets, pendants, tiaras, torcs. It looked like the van of a new age survivalist.

 

"Who the hell are you?" he said.

 

Melnep grimaced, "I told you before. But perhaps the stun hasn't worn off yet. But." she changed her voice to that of a fake Russian accent "We are asking the questions Mr Bond. Not you." she changed back to what Andrew had thought of as 'Newsreader on TV.' "Let's try the simple ones. You are Andrew Smith, born 1989. You work as an accountant and IT guy for the Workington Golf Club. Single. No brothers. No sisters. Parents separated. Mother lives in Kensington. Father, whereabouts unknown. You say your interests are Hiking, Rugby, Travel and Astronomy. I'm betting you've listed those in an effort to sound interesting since your flat doesn't contain anything to suggest that. We think you like console shooters, watching Dr Who and going to the gym. But who wants to put 'bit of a spod' on their online profile?"

 

Melnep paused.

 

"You flat is immaculate, you own a wide variety of clothes, beauty products and toiletries. We were suspecting you were gay but then found the Men's magazines in the closet. Why in the closet? Why is it always the closet? Never mind. You are surprisingly and superficially the most boring man in existence."

 

Andrew didn't know what to say. It was still a bit of a shock. He had been shot at, tasered, kidnapped and then people had raided his flat.

 

"Now the interesting stuff. Your resistance to magic is incredible and definitely not due to any spells, charms or devices. A master magician could develop that but you're only twenty-four and "Warding Spells" is not in the curriculum of any course at Manchester Metro. You could be the son of a god. That sort of thing does happen and more than you may think. But it might just be normal deviation as Chuck would say. But it doesn't matter. You shrug off magic like a duck does water. And while that's a pretty useless talent for an accountant it's something really useful in my line of work. Want a new job?"

 

"And you are?" Andrew said. Magic? Spells? None of this made any sense.

 

"I am Melnepakunphat. Melnep to those who know me. I am a Daughter of Horus. A priestess. I am also a Princess of the Upper Kingdom. I am only slightly younger than human civilisation itself, have dedicated my life to fighting evil and am probably the third most interesting person you'll ever meet."

 

"Third most interesting? Who else is there?" said Andrew.

 

"Chuck and Zack,"  she said as if that answered everything.

 

"And you fight evil," he said.

 

"Yes, We're like that outfit in Dr Who. Uncle or something."

 

"Unit."

 

"Whatever. But we're real. You can always go back to counting golf balls. Except you can't. The wiper probably wouldn't work on you so we can't put you back. I won't kill you. We're the good guys."

 

"But who are you?"

 

"I still like to think of ourselves as the Sons and Daughters of Horus but everyone else is a bit younger and we tend to name ourselves after our cover organisation. At the moment that's the National Museum of Natural History. But they all call it the Nat."

 

The van stopped. Andrew heard the engine being turned off. After a few seconds, the rear doors opened.

 

"And here we are. Can you walk? Good. Come on then."

 

Andrew got up stiffly and followed Melnep outside.

 

There were two guards outside. They were stocky men in what could only be described as a generic blue uniform. It looked sort of like a police uniform. Or security guards. Or the military. It also looked like none of them. Both guards wore holstered pistols and looked serious. They nodded at Melnep and one opened a small door in the alley where the truck had parked. They gave Andrew a look and then followed him and Melnep inside. They walked down a short corridor, past some doors and stopped at a lift.

 

While they waited Andrew took some time to actually look at his captor. She was a short woman with copper coloured skin. Under her raincoat, she wore a dark green set of trousers and a jumper. She looked all the world like any hiker or cross country enthusiast. Did she look Egyptian? Ancient Egyptian? Andrew had no idea. He tried to remember recent news items from Egypt. Could she fit into the sea of shouting faces he remembered? Maybe? She was definitely pretty. The sort of woman you would approach in a pub. Well, the sort of woman you would think about approaching but never actually get round to it. 

The lift dinged, the doors opened and they entered. One of the guards pushed a button and the lift started down. After a while, the lift stopped and they got out. The first thing Andrew noticed was a monster.

It dominated the hallway, huge, monstrous with bulging eyes and wicked tentacles. It took a while before Andrew realised it was in a tank of preserving fluid and quite dead. Melnep and the guards were walking past it. He caught up.

"That's a..." he began.

"Yes," said Melnep 

"It's real."

"Yes."

"Not fake."

"No,"

"Why. How."

Melnep turned and looked at him. Andrew found himself backing away from that stare.

"Yes. It's a Martian. Yes, they're real and as to what it's doing in the front hall, that was Chuck's idea. He says it gives an instant perspective. I think it's just annoying and damn ugly. Why can't we have some nice piece of modern art or some mosaic? A few words in Latin? But no Chuck wants that ugly thing." she said.

"But you have to admit it puts you in the correct frame of mind." said someone. It belonged to a  man of indeterminate age with sideburns and neat hair. It was a famous face. Andrew had seen it every day, this man was younger but definitely the same person. "Evening Melly," he said and bent to kiss her on the cheek. She responded by hugging him. "Shame about today, but we can't have them all." He stood back up. "And this is your extraordinary specimen. My word. Pleased to meet you my dear man." he extended a hand to Andrew.

"But you're..." said Andrew, he paused. It just wasn't possible.

"Go on young man. You're going to have to get used to it," he said.

Andrew gibbered. It was too much.

"Oh, dear. Must be the stun, poor boy. Melly, will you do the honours?"

"Andrew Smith, Charles Darwin. Charles Darwin, Andrew Smith," said Melnep.

"Pleased to meet you. Do come this way," said Charles Darwin.