Keppelberg

by Stan Mason

  The situation with Bridget balanced on a knife edge. She looked into her hand mirror twenty times a day to see whether wrinkles were appearing on her face, seeking any sign of ageing. It affected her mind and eventually her body.

  At first, I noticed that when we made love she seemed much more tense and I forgave her for the lack of litheness and virility which had always been her forte. It was possible that not having any more tablets had made her nervous and unsure of herself which affected her sexual performance. As the days passed, it became quite obvious that her body was changing. She still wanted to enjoy physical sex but her actions became far slower and much more laboured. This meant that when we committed ourselves to making love it became essential for me to make all the moves and actions. Physical sex with Bridget suddenly became a tiresome monotonous affair. I had always assumed that sexual activity between a man and a woman had to be balanced. It was no longer that way with Bridget and, one night, after she had put her arms around me in bed and tried to kiss me on the lips, I turned away refusing to participate. This both confused and angered her greatly and I could see that she quickly became frustrated, but there was nothing left in me to assure her of my favours.

  The very next day I was awakened by a shrill scream. She had risen before me and was staring into her hand mirror. On this occasion, she had a great deal to concern her. The pale skin on her face which she admired so much had turned pallid white, her eyes had sunk into dark sockets, there were wrinkles all over her face and forehead, she had pouches under her eyes, her hair had turned white, and she looked about a hundred and ten years old.

  ‘I’m dying!’ she screamed at the top of her voice, causing me to leap out of bed and put my arm around her in sympathy. She now looked like my great grandmother and the age difference was extensive... a bridge too far! ‘What do you see?’ she asked tearfully.

  I stared at her face which had changed beyond all recognition to the woman with whom I had fallen in love. It was a gruesome sight to see how she had aged so quickly. I tried to keep a loving expression on my face but I was too shocked to be able to do so. She would know very quickly that I was lying if I flattered her in any way. The evidence was staring back at her in the hand mirror.

  ‘You do look a little older,’ I managed to say like a fool.

  ‘Is this the end, Sam?’ she asked, with tears running down her face. ‘Is this the finish, only I do love you.’ She paused to sob a little before continuing. ‘I never did love Richard, you know, He was forced upon me by my parents. We only had one child to make up the population number. The reason he killed himself was because I told him I had never loved him and, because of that, he stopped taking the tablets. We only had sex once in our married life. I wouldn’t let him near o me after that. But when you came along, you opened up my world. Since you’ve been here I’ve been so happy. I wish I had met you many years ago. ‘

  ‘I wasn’t even born then,’ I uttered, biting my tongue for making such a stupid statement. I kissed her on the cheek out of pity.

  ‘Now that I’ve found happiness, it’s all being taken away.’

  Her transformation into an old woman and her imminent death was going to change my life as well. But not only was the death knell ringing for her, it was sounding for almost eleven hundred people in the village.

  Despairingly, life with Bridget changed in an instant. She was no longer the love of my life but an ailing woman in excess of a hundred years of age. She had changed from a lovely fair-haired beauty with a remarkable slender figure to a wrinkled old hag. Not surprisingly my feelings for her degenerated almost as fast as her face and body deteriorated. It had become impossible for me to stay in the house with her for obvious reasons. Subsequently, I left and wandered towards the schoolhouse simply to take in some fresh air. I found the children standing around talking to each other in the playground. They could no longer sit cross-legged on their haunches because their limbs were too stiff. To my horror, it was obvious that they had all aged badly, The fact was that they were still the size of children because their bodies were unable to mature fast enough. As a result they became mutants. They were like dwarves with wrinkled faces and grey hair, every one of them looking very ugly.

  ‘We were fools to listen to Thomas Howard,’ declared one boy when he saw me.

  ‘You mean that you were a fool,’ criticised another boy. ‘I always had my doubts about him.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you stand up against him,’ yelled one of the girls. ‘You didn’t have to agree with him!’

  ‘What’s the use of grumbling now,’ claimed another one of the girls. ‘It’s too late for all of us.’

  ‘You can all live on for another thirty or forty years,’ I advanced.

  ‘Looking like this?’ snapped one of the boys.

  At that moment, one of the girls fell forward head first on to the concrete. None of the children went to her aid so I strolled across to help her get to her feet... but she was dead. Her body, as a child, could not take the strain of ageing as she passed away in an instant.

  The children all turned in my direction seeking guidance.

  ‘What shall we do, Mr. Ross?’ asked one of them sadly. ‘We’re all getting old... very old... and we’re dying!’

  ‘I wish I knew the answer to that one, son,’ I replied. ‘I wish I did. This was a fantastic village until you children went on the rampage. Look what you did. You destroyed the village hall and then went on to burn down the pharmacy which produced your life-saving tablets. You’ve only yourselves to blame.’

  The children stared at me with doleful expressions on their faces and then a boy toppled over falling backwards. They were going down like flies!

  ‘You were right, Mr. Ross,’ cut in Robert, holding the hand of the girl beside him. ‘We did enjoy a short time doing what grown-ups do, didn’t we?’ He looked into the eyes of the girl lovingly and she nodded her assent.

  It was becoming all too much for me knowing what was going to happen to them in the near future. After all, to me they had been only children. I left them in the school playground grousing with each other as they waited to die like the rest. In my mind, I knew that I would never go back to the school again. It had too many bad memories for me. It was far too upsetting to see the children die before my eyes.

  I’m not sure how long it took for all the villagers to expire. There were no bodies in the church, the library, in the police station or on the paths throughout the village. Keppelberg had suddenly turned itself into a ghost town with bodies rotting away in every house. I never returned to Bridget... my life with her was over. The idea of facing the woman with whom I had made love to every night when she was in such a state was too much to bear. By now, she was probably laying in bed having died of old age.

  As I walked along the path to the police station, I came across a woman who called out to me in a high-pitched screeching voice. I didn’t recognise her at first and then I realised that it was the Secretary.

  ‘Sam!’ she called out, raising her withered arm feebly to hail me.

  I pretended to ignore her and the fact that I failed to acknowledge her must have been too much for she tripped and fell headlong striking her head on a paving stone. I failed to go to her knowing that she was dead and continued onwards to the police station. She had been so insistent that I leave the village in the first few days of arrival. Now I was the only person left out of eleven hundred people!

  I had a very uneasy sleep that night which ended in a nightmare. I woke up on the thin straw mattress with perspiration running down my face screaming something quite incoherent. My life had been turned down by a mischievous boy by the name of Thomas Howard who had also affected the life of every villager.

  Keppelberg failed to exist the following morning. It was absolutely silent and everyone was dead except for myself. I went to the garage nearby and sat in the driving seat of
my car hoping that the battery still had an element of life in it. I turned on the ignition and the engine hesitated, turning over a few times before it started. I decided to leave the village for the last time. It was no longer a place to be. In due course, someone would come along to collect all the bodies and bury them in a mass grave. There were two options available to the public. In the first place, they could revitalise the village bringing it into the modern world. Secondly, they could entertain it as a shrine for tourists to come to see. No doubt, some entrepreneur would buy the whole place and turn it into a showpiece of some kind, macabre or otherwise, using the deaths of eleven hundred people to his advantage.

  * * *

  Within ten minutes, I was back in the real world again... the one where problems gushed forth like a mountain stream into a valley. I had come from an austere village hell-bent on self-preservation to arrive into a sphere of ambition, financial profit, consumerism, governance, massive taxation, a great deal of crime, lots of litigation, and much greed. It was as though I had been transported by a magic carpet into a completely different world... yet I had been living only a few miles away. Somehow, in the short space of time I had been at Keppelberg I had conditioned myself to the routine and regimen of the constitution set out by the Founder. It had suited me very well. In addition, there was the sexual relationship I enjoyed so much with Bridget... as well as the short-term session with the lovely, voluptuous Secretary... and the fencing arguments with the Desk Sergeant and PC7. On reflection, it had been an experience never to be forgotten and I was honoured to have been accepted by the villagers even if I was always known as ‘the stranger’. I could not blame them for that title. I was a stranger in their midst although I had acclimatised myself to their ways and customs. There were some very good features to recall. Until I arrived there, crime was nonexistent. The cells at the police station were always empty and life was extremely tranquil. There was no radio, television or any kind of electronic equipment and no telephones... just a golden silence which shrouded the village both day and night... not even a bell in the church to call worshippers to prayer. Everyone looked young and virile... there were no old people staggering about, moaning about their ailments or complaining about one thing or another. Peace reigned eternally and everyone seemed happy. I recalled the days I spent at the entrance to the village and the delicious steaks I ate in the cafeteria, the vandalism to my car and my incarceration in the police cell. And then came the feeling of the fear and dread that spread among the people during those awful last days. I shuddered as I thought of the degradation of Bridget’s face and body so suddenly as she became very old so quickly. I had faced many bad moments in Basra, in the army, against terrorists and insurgents, but the event of the death of Keppelberg far outweighed it.

  I returned to my sister, Mary, who welcomed me with open arms and I related the story about the village and its inhabitants. She was totally absorbed by the tale, allowing me to tell her everything without interruption. However, not unexpectedly, the end horrified her.

  ‘What are you going to tell the city police?’ she enquired.

  ‘I’m not going to tell them anything,’ I responded slowly. ‘If I did, I’d be involved in their investigation for the next year unable to explain anything that would satisfy them. They might even think I was a mass murderer. No... it’s best if I keep my mouth shut and move on.’

  ‘What about your relationship with Bridget... the woman you were going to marry? Were you really in love with her even though you knew that she was eighty-seven years of age?’

  ‘I took her on face value. She may have been eight-seven but she looked as though she was only twenty-seven. That’s all that mattered to me. I shall miss her greatly.’

  Mary looked at me with a strange expression on her face at my admission but she shrugged her shoulders as if to rid herself of the thought. ‘Anyway, I’m glad you’re back, safe and sound.’

  I turned to Tim almost accusingly. ‘When I first asked you about Keppelberg, you said you’d never heard of it. Why did you lie to me?’

  He looked somewhat embarrassed by the question. ‘It’s because I’d heard of rumours about what went on there and I didn’t want you to get involved,’ he told me candidly. ‘As far as anyone who knew about it, the village was an awful place with some very strange practices... some of them evil. I thought it best to keep you away from it.’

  ‘Do you know that I ended up as the chief law officer in charge of the village,’ I returned solemnly.

  Mary shook her head and burst into laughter. ‘It’s unbelievable. You the chief law officer! What are you going to do now?’

  ‘I’ll return to Cornwall and take a few weeks off or I might visit the Lake District. It’s not too far from here, is it?’

  ‘Look,’ cut in Tim quietly. ‘Now that Wayne Austen’s left the business, I’m looking for a new partner. Why don’t you join me in the detective agency? I think you’d really be good at it.’

  I toyed with the idea for a few moments before shaking my head. ‘No... I don’t think so,’ I returned gratefully. ‘I can’t see myself hanging around houses at dead of night waiting for clues in divorce cases. But thanks for the offer anyway.’

  Although I had disliked life in the army in Basra, there had been something about the camaraderie with my fellow soldiers that had endeared me to it. I thought it might be a good idea to sign up again for a further three year stint. Admittedly there were dangers in being a soldier sent to danger zones throughout the world but it was far better than anything on offer for me in civvy street. It was definitely in my mind to return to Cornwall and join the regiment again. Keppelberg had been a gem of a place with all its peace and harmony... there was really no where else like it on earth, but I needed a little space in time to get over the incident. I would miss Bridget, the Secretary and Robert... and, in a strange way, even the dull dry Townsend. And then it came to me like a bolt of lightning streaking out of the firmament. Of course... the answer was simple! Maybe Keppelberg wasn’t unique after all. Perhaps there was another village very similar in its way but without the blessing or curse of Obadiah Keppelberg’s chemical compound to keep people young and ageless. There had to be another place which dwelt in the past and lived in peace and harmony, operating on the principles of Victorian England to the full, avoiding modern civilisation... but where could it be? If it did exist, I would desperately have liked to find it. Destiny had placed the idea into my mind and my quest was to search for such a place. I had come across Keppelberg by accident... could it happen again? Did lightning ever strike in the same place twice? I was then reminded of the story about the European who, in 1939, predicted there would be a war and he searched the atlas for a place where he would be safe from the conflict. He chose Guadacanal which turned out to be the centre of the fiercest fighting between the Americans and the Japanese armies. I seriously hoped that destiny would deny me following the same pattern.

  Then, without any reason whatsoever, my mind went back to the luscious, voluptuous, gorgeous Secretary I had made love to so passionately. I suddenly realised that I couldn’t remember her name even though I knew every part of her virile body. But for an ordinary man, that was the way of life... at least it was the way of my life. And if you try to find the village of Keppelberg you’ll fail to do so because I learned later from my sister that the place was razed to the ground by the authorities and it doesn’t exist any more. Only memories prevail... only memories!

  THE END

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