by Ross Welford
They almost certainly recognise me as Tammy’s brother.
I decide to bluff it out and walk towards the paddle, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Which, of course, it is, but when you’re trying to be normal somehow everything seems anything but.
I bend down to pick it up, and now they’re all looking at me.
‘Just picking up, you know, my paddle,’ I say far too quietly for them to hear me (it’s more to reassure myself).
It’s in my hand, and I turn to go back the way I came, desperately hoping not to hear someone on the jetty call out.
And nobody does. And I have taken a few steps. And I’m thinking everything’s fine. And then …
‘Hey! You there! Ethan? Stop!’
I stop and look up to see a large woman in an RAF uniform lumbering towards me. So many things are running through my head, but whatever I think, it comes back to this:
Them being here is not about Tammy. It’s about Hellyann.
Why else would the RAF be involved? The military body responsible for searching the skies for unauthorised craft entering our airspace? (You can tell I’ve been reading UFO websites – they’re all like that.)
Why else would they be here, next to where Hellyann landed, where the Geoffs saw the splashes and saw Hellyann herself?
The woman is still coming towards me.
And so I turn, and I run.
I hear ‘Hey! Stop!’ and thudding footsteps, joined by others, on the wooden planking, but I don’t turn to look back. Instead, using the canoe paddle as a kind of weapon against the undergrowth, I swish and hack and leap and hop through the trees, huge showers of snow from branches following me as I run, and I can tell I am making progress, because the footsteps behind me are getting no closer.
And then I am up by the road, by their cars, but I don’t stop. I turn and run back along the road towards the little pathway down to the boathouse. Will they see me? I can’t tell, and I daren’t wait, so I turn down the path. I can’t stop now – the boathouse is in sight. I can see Iggy and Hellyann with Suzy at their feet.
When I come level with them, I don’t even speak. They can tell something is up, and so they stand aside as I shove the flat end of the paddle under the steel hasp that holds the padlock, and I push down with all my weight till I feel the metal parting from the wood with a noisy crunch. One more heave and the lock pops off with a splintering sound.
Seconds later, we’re inside the boathouse. Iggy has more or less carried Hellyann, with her spindly arms across his shoulders for support. We pull the door closed behind us and Iggy and I lean against it, panting as quietly as we can. I put my finger to my lips as we listen out for footsteps coming down the path, and draw a bolt across to shut the door. The bolt is rusty, and the screws are loose: it will not hold for long if someone pushes it.
In front of us, the boathouse looks empty – just a rectangle of water leading out to the reservoir. It’s odd – I kind of know that Hellyann’s spaceship is there, just invisible. I lean forward on the walkway, stretching down into the water, and scoop some into my hand, which I throw towards where I think the craft is. Sure enough, the droplets land as if on glass, and then drip back down. It’s definitely there. Where it sits in the water is indented, but unless you were looking you probably wouldn’t notice. But when you do look, it’s … strange. The slight ripples on the water’s surface stop when they hit the invisible barrier, and the water smoothes out and dips into a shallow V-shape.
Meanwhile, using what seems to be the last of her fading strength, Hellyann calls out, ‘Philip! Philip! I’m back.’
At the same time I hear a woman’s voice outside.
‘Ow! Corporal Morrison, pick up that chicken!’
And then we hear Suzy squawking.
‘Get off! Crikey, it’s an aggressive little b … blighter, ma’am! Oi, ow, gerroff!’
Iggy looks at me in horror – how could he have left Suzy outside? I’m thinking it’s a good job he did: Suzy is buying us valuable time.
Then I let out a gasp of astonishment. Where there was nothing on the water before there is now a huge shape: dark, greyish, non-reflective, with a fuzzy outline that is like looking at an out-of-focus film.
Imagine a cheese triangle – one of the ones wrapped in foil, but hundreds of times bigger, the size of a motorhome or a van. Now imagine that the cheese triangle has half of a Malteser resting on it, also hundreds of times bigger.
This, then, is Hellyann’s spacecraft – a huge wedge shape with a big dome on top, with fuzzy edges. I could stare at it for hours in sheer, baffled wonderment. Already, though, there are more voices outside the boathouse.
‘He’s in here. Blimey, Smithy – that chicken doesn’t want to let you past!’
Go, Suzy! I think.
A side section of the spaceship slides open, and Hellyann limps inside, turning and motioning for us to follow. Iggy’s next – he steps up on to the level surface of the wedge and goes straight into the craft.
The bolt on the double doors creaks as it is pushed from the other side, and I run desperately round the walkway to get to the craft and get inside. I dive into the opening just as, below me, I see the grey outline dissolve as the craft becomes invisible again.
Above me, the hatch half shuts, and it is as dark in there as a Kielder winter’s night.
‘Be quiet,’ croaks Hellyann. ‘Say nothing.’ She then says something in her own language and a portion of the dome in front of us clears to show the boathouse door.
Then we hear another voice, a man’s voice, shouting, ‘Stand aside! I’m gonna kick this door in.’
It’s Geoff Jr. He’s got a taste for kicking in doors, it seems.
As we watch in silence, the bolt gives way with a cracking sound and the double doors burst open.
The tall RAF lady and her companion come through the double doors and stand in the doorway, staring straight ahead at the spaceship but evidently unable to see it, because they don’t look surprised or anything.
At least we’re invisible, I think.
Behind them is Geoff Jr, his shotgun raised at waist level, and next to him is a face I have seen on TV: the news reporter Jamie Bates. Nobody, thankfully, is looking at the water, where they might notice the indentation in the surface.
Beside me, there is enough light inside the dome for me to notice what Hellyann is doing. From somewhere she has taken something about the size of a pencil and has stabbed her palm. I once saw a teacher at school use an EpiPen on a kid who was allergic to nuts and had developed a rash – it was exactly like that. Hellyann blinks hard, then looks at me and nods with satisfaction.
Then, from behind the people at the boathouse doors, comes Suzy, flapping and squeaking and pecking at the woman’s feet.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! That bird! Get it OUT of here!’ The RAF woman aims a vicious kick at Suzy, who leaps out of the way and briefly takes flight, landing back on the walkway. Then she raises her wings ready to take off again.
Oh no, I think. No, no, no – go the other way. The OTHER way!
But she doesn’t. In her panic to avoid the woman’s boot, Suzy flaps up over the water and lands on the spacecraft, right above our heads.
The invisible spacecraft. Suzy will look as though she is floating in mid-air.
‘Oh, surely not! That’s less than good,’ says Iggy, who is standing beside me.
‘What the …?’ gasps Jamie Bates, pointing right at Suzy.
For a few seconds, Suzy stays still, then she flaps down through the open hatch into the dome next to us. To the people on the walkway of the boathouse, it must have looked like a chicken floated in the air and then just … vanished. Above my head, the hatch hisses shut, further darkening the interior of the dome.
‘Did you see that? What the flaming heck just …?’ The woman is lost for words.
They all just stare at the space, and then down at the water. Then Geoff crouches down and does exactly what I did a moment ago: he scoo
ps up a handful of water and throws it at the invisible spaceship.
He straightens up and raises the shotgun to his shoulder.
The RAF woman looks astonished. ‘Sir?’ she says. ‘What are you doing?’
Geoff Jr doesn’t reply. Instead he shouts, ‘Bring her out! Bring her out now. The military are here and the police.’
‘And the press!’ squeaks Jamie Bates, unnecessarily.
The woman shouts at Geoff, ‘Halt! Stop! Put down that gun. That’s an order.’
‘Or what?’ sneers Geoff.
‘We haf to get out of here,’ says Hellyann. ‘The danger is too great.’ Then she says something in her own language and the craft responds.
The humming noise starts. It sounds louder inside the craft than it was the other day when I first heard it, and the pitch gets higher and higher. The RAF people look at each other and then around the boathouse to see where it is coming from. Then they look down at the water – the invisible spaceship is on the move. The indented part of the water’s surface is moving back from the walkway.
Then there’s a click as Geoff pulls the trigger of his shotgun. I see him look puzzled, then he breaks the gun at the hinge, revealing the two empty chambers where the shells should have been. So he didn’t fire at Gran, I think with relief. He starts fumbling deep in his pocket for replacements.
Hellyann is reversing the spaceship out of the boathouse.
‘What’s that noise?’ says the woman.
They are both watching the water, which is being churned up as we reverse.
There is a deafening bang, immediately followed by the noise of hundreds of tiny pieces of lead shot peppering the spacecraft as Geoff fires his newly loaded shotgun. Then the gun goes off again.
Above the gunshot and the humming, I hear the officer shout ‘Stop!’ again, but we are not stopping.
The humming noise reaches an almost painful pitch, and the air around us seems to contract, and my ears feel blocked.
Hellyann gabbles something in her language then shouts to us, ‘Sit down at the back and put the straps on you.’
We stumble to the back of the cockpit where there is a bench seat and Iggy and I fall on to it. Immediately, rigid bars appear and pin us down – it makes me think of the roller-coaster seats when Tammy and I went to Alton Towers.
By now we are clear of the boathouse and reversing to the centre of the reservoir.
Geoff has reloaded and fired more shots without effect.
Beside him, Jamie Bates has taken out his camera phone and is frantically swiping to bring up – I am guessing – the camera function. But he doesn’t want to take his eyes off what is happening so he keeps getting it wrong and having to try again.
The screen before us goes black and I feel a lurch deep inside me. Beside me, I can feel Iggy tensing and Suzy wriggling.
The dim light in the cockpit shows that Hellyann is now strapped in a seat the same as ours, at the side.
The lurch happens again, but huge this time, and at the same time I feel myself tipping back. The noise in the craft is nearly unbearable and there seems to be a huge weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe, and my eyes are screwed up tight.
Do I pass out? I can’t tell. I have no idea how much time has passed, but it feels like several minutes – perhaps longer. Suddenly, the noise inside the cockpit quietens.
Then there is nothing. Silence.
I can breathe. I open my eyes, and I can make out Iggy beside me and Suzy, and Hellyann exactly where they all were before.
But the light is dim, and the dome seems to have changed in some way, because it is pure black.
Hellyann turns to look at me.
I try to speak, but my mouth is too dry.
‘Wh … where … what …’ is all I manage.
Hellyann does her slow blink and says, ‘Welcome to space.’
All right. Slow down.
Stop.
Shhhh.
I want you to realise the sheer, stupendous strangeness of how I feel right now.
I’m twelve and I’m, like, half-kidnapped in a spaceship, hurtling – somehow, don’t ask me how – through flipping … spacetime or something.
Next to me on this hard bench is Iggy Fox-Templeton. He’s asleep or concussed, as far as I can tell, specs on the end of his nose.
To round it off nicely, there’s a hairy, stinking, dog-killing alien about a metre away from me with what looks like a smile on her face.
Oh yeah, and there’s a chicken.
So, if you think that I think that this is in any way cool, then you’re just wrong.
I thought I knew fear when Tammy went missing. This is a whole new level.
Thought I’d point that out now, because things have been moving pretty rapidly and I wondered if you thought that I was fine with it all.
I’m not.
Just saying …
The American accent penetrates the fog of my brain, though I don’t think I am fully conscious when I first hear it.
‘This is your captain, Philip Philipson, speaking. Welcome on board Flight AN950 to Anthalla and thank you for choosing to fly with us. Kindly switch off all electronic devices and pay attention to the cabin staff …’
I think I am dreaming so I drift off again, or the voice fades out – I’m not sure which.
Then I’m awake instantly. My heart is beating so hard that I can actually feel it – bup-bup bup-bup – in my chest. I can hardly breathe, I can’t swallow, every bit of me – my fingers, my scalp, my back – is tingling as though I’m being electrocuted, and I feel like I’m about to throw up violently. The noise in my ears is unlike anything I have ever heard: a combination of stomach-churning bass and a million knives being scraped over a plate. I scream but I cannot even hear myself; my eyes feel like they’re glued shut.
I was not expecting this, but then who would?
Of all the things I thought might happen today – and believe me, I spent quite a bit of last night running through them in my head, until I finally fell into a sweaty, twitching sleep – being in a spaceship didn’t even come up.
I try to piece together the last few moments, but it’s hard because I feel like everything in my head has been scrambled up. There was me, and Tammy and Iggy …
Hang on. Tammy? Isn’t next she to me? No, that’s Hellyann, but I can’t see her because is dark everything. Tammy’s sister my. That is this what about all is. What? What’s happening head in my?
Isn’t it?
Who?
Oh God, I’m going to be sick …
And there it comes. I try to lean forward but I can’t – there is a strap holding me back – and besides, I don’t know which way up I am. So my stomach convulses and its contents are ejected violently all down my front.
And then, second by second, the noise and the tingling on my skin diminishes, the motion steadies, and I can open my eyes. Well, one eye. There is something stinging in my other one. Sick, maybe.
My brain? My thoughts? Are they unscrambling? Perhaps they are …
With my single open eye I can see stars. I appear to be revolving slowly. Then the large window blacks out and I’m back in semi-darkness.
I can smell something too. Blocked drains? Rotten fish? No, that’s … that’s Hellyann? It’s coming back to me.
I hear a voice from beside me.
‘We will remofe that when we ket to what you call “escape velocity”.’ The voice is familiar.
I try to speak, but my mouth is too dry. I manage: ‘Huh?’
‘Your vomitus. I had not anticipated that, although even if I hat, there was little I could do about it. Py the way, you might experience some mild disorientation. Your thoughts may be a little scrampled.’
You can that say again …
‘It is common on first voyages. It can cause temporary loss of consciousness.’
I’m panting and I can feel sweat trickling down my neck. With an effort, I work some saliva into my mouth so that I can lick my l
ips and talk. I feel stiff all over, but I manage to turn my head to the source of the voice, and I can see Hellyann lying next to me. Or is she standing? I cannot tell which way is up. She turns her head to me and I look into her pale eyes.
‘Hellyann?’
‘Yes, Ethan.’
I take a deep breath and manage to croak, ‘Do you mind telling me what’s going on?’
‘No, I to not mind. We are koing to my home planet, to ket your sister back.’
From beside me, Hellyann is keeping up a constant on-and-off chatter in a language I don’t understand, full of odd squeaks, whistles and growls. On my other side, Iggy is strapped in, eyes shut, seemingly unconscious.
When Hellyann eventually pauses, I say, ‘Who are you talking to?’
‘It is not a who. It is a what. The craft. This.’ She looks around to indicate what she means.
The craft does not seem to reply – I think Hellyann has an earpiece or something. She says something else in the strange, throaty noise, then there is silence – total silence – as what I am guessing are ‘engines’ power down. I feel an odd sensation, mainly in my legs, but also inside me, like when you go over a sudden hill in a car and your stomach goes whoaah!
Then it passes.
‘Weightlessness,’ says Hellyann, as something soft and feathery hits my head.
Suzy floats past, weightless, and with a very startled look on her face. She keeps extending her wings and then pulling them back in and looking round the cabin.
‘Hold on to the chicken!’ says Hellyann urgently, as Suzy floats past again.
I reach up and grab her.
In a second, the floating blobs of sick from earlier whizz past me and are gone somewhere I cannot see.
‘Waste disposal,’ Hellyann says. ‘That is why I tolt you to catch the bird. Anything floating would haf been sucked up and disposed of.’
The whining stops. Silence returns – a huge silence that seems to stretch on forever.
‘Hellyann?’ I say. ‘Where are we?’
‘We haf left your planet’s atmosphere. We are apout four hundred and twenty kilometres above the surface of Earth, in a temporary orbit at a felocity of eight kilometres per second and blah blah blah blah …’