Time of the Demon

by Ian Taylor

  "Mass hysteria. And then everyone's favourite uncles from the military will rush in and establish control. For the common good, no less."

  "You've got it. We've been sliding towards this situation for a while. Individual

  freedoms have been chucked out the window in the name of national security. When the

  world's population has been reduced by at least sixty per cent, the authorities will announce a resounding victory over the spacemen." He laughed savagely. "Then you'll appear spouting Mr A's script of the new world order." Gerry started the bike. "Let's go. We've been here too long already."

  As they pulled past the inn, about to turn onto the main road, a black Mercedes with two harsh-looking men in black suits passed them, heading towards the field. The man in the passenger's seat glared icily at them.

  "Who the hell are they?" she yelled above the rumbling bike.

  "Black Ops guys at a guess, pretending to be MIBs."

  He pulled onto the main road and they sped away.

  11

  Two hours later, they were heading south on the motorway with Gerry on the Harley and Jan now in her 4x4, trying to keep up. They turned onto a large, busy industrial estate and pulled up outside a windowless warehouse that bore the name A-B Global Distribution & Storage. Gerry opened the loading bay doors with a hand-held remote and they drove in.

  As he locked the doors, Jan grabbed the camera and laptop from the car. She looked around at the cavernous interior. Miscellaneous merchandise, in boxes and crates, was stacked high on steel racks and wooden pallets. Some of the goods were arranged in units, shrink-wrapped in heavy-duty polythene.

  "What is this place?"

  He smiled. "It's exactly what it says it is: a storage and distribution facility. Goods are shipped all over the world. A friend of mine owns it."

  She wasn't sure if she believed him, but there was nothing to be gained from challenging him. He could spin her any tale he chose and she’d never get any nearer to knowing who he was and what his true background was. And it didn't really matter. In a few short days, the world had become a completely different place for her; she had little choice but to follow her instincts and deal with situations as they arose.

  "Do you live here?"

  "I think of it as my HQ. It's quite a busy site, as you've seen. But it's easy to disappear in a crowd." He unlocked a small narrow door at the back of the warehouse. "Let's sit in the office. It's a tad warmer."

  She followed him into a room occupied by metallic filing cabinets, a large fake oak desk sporting a laptop, and two typing chairs. A long rack of metal shelving, filled with alternative literature, lined the wall to the rear of the desk. A camp bed, with a bright-red sleeping bag arranged on top, occupied one corner.

  He switched on an electric fan heater and motioned her to one of the chairs. "Sorry if it's a bit spartan, but I haven't time or inclination to indulge in creature comforts."

  She sat on a chair and placed her laptop opposite his. "So this is your hideout?"

  He sat and switched on his laptop. "I'm here when I don't need to be anywhere else."

  "So you're off the record?"

  "I'm not on the electoral register. If we ever get a political system that can create a true democracy, I may change my mind. The current system is simply unfit for purpose. So, at the moment, I choose not to vote. I drive other folks' vehicles, as you've realised. I pay no income tax, no national insurance. My medical records are fifteen years out of date. I'm as invisible as I can make myself."

  Her reporter's instincts sprang into action. "What exactly is it that you do? I mean, why such secrecy, such elaborate anonymity? Are you an industrial spy? A double agent?"

  Gerry chuckled. "I'm not a double agent. I try my best to be an independent agent. And I can only be one if I'm as inwardly and outwardly free as possible. I'm inwardly free because I owe allegiance solely to the truth."

  "Truth's a big subject. It's got so many sides. Which bit's yours?"

  "It's sometimes like battling a force ten gale, but I’ve an insatiable curiosity, a compulsion to find out how creation works. It's led me into some very strange areas."

  "Like the worlds of UFOs and tricky spirits?"

  "They don't come much stranger than that!"

  "Do you always work alone?"

  "I have for the last ten years. Before that, I was a practising pagan."

  A pagan. An authority on demons and conspiracies. A guy who rides a Harley like he was born to it. It wasn't a whole picture, but it was a fascinating start. Jan swallowed a smile and turned on her laptop. "D'you want me to keep going with the blog? You weren't sure about the Geiger readings and the photos."

  "I've changed my mind. Put the Geiger info on it. And the photos. Let's stir up the mix and see what floats to the top. You could even try to create the impression that we might be under attack. That should please Mr A. He'll see you're keen to get started."

  "I'm running a risk doing this. Mr A can access the blog."

  "You could pretend to be using the blog to test the range of opinions and get an idea of the size of the opposition."

  "What if Mr A leaves me hanging out to dry? These demons are unpredictable, you know that."

  "I don't think he sees you as expendable yet."

  She brought up her blog and found there were a lot more comments.

  "We might not be able to prove anything yet, but this blog will inform people of what's going on,” he advised, looking over her shoulder. “Now it's you who's become the double agent."

  It felt as if she was playing Russian roulette. One ill-considered move and she might be picked up by the Black Ops guys–or killed by Mr A.

  The afternoon passed quickly as they laboured at different tasks. She worked on her blog while he checked surveillance data to see if anyone had been snooping outside the building. No one had. He left for a short while and returned with refreshments.

  "Fish and chips. I hate pizza and the Chinese place isn't open yet."

  They ate in silence. When he finally spoke, she was surprised to hear him give voice to her own doubts. "You know, the world of demons has been with us for ever. These entities posing as gods, taking sides, stirring up conflict, allowing millions to die, feeding off blood and fear. They're at it again. And with climate change, it's going to be global. There'll be famine and fires and floods, there'll be droughts and water wars. Cities will vanish beneath rising seas. There'll be millions of refugees, economic and political fragmentation. The life we think we know today will change beyond recognition. How will Mr A's new world take advantage of this?"

  She pulled a face. "It puzzles me, too. And it bothers me. I'll let you know as soon as I find out." After a blink of hesitation, she added, "If I find out."

  "I'd have thought unfettered greed over the last few hundred years would have caused enough human misery for him to be sufficiently entertained. Climate crises will take it to an extreme. All he has to do is sit back and enjoy the carnage. He doesn't have to recruit you to some Brave New World escapade."

  "But he is, so he must have a plan. I've tried to probe, but he's always evasive. I have to tread very carefully. The more committed I am to his ideas, the more I'll learn." That's the theory anyway, she thought with a pensive sigh.

  They finished their meal and as they cleared the desk, she voiced an idea that was troubling her. "We've talked about future horrors. Where are the good guys in all this?"

  "They exist, believe me. I hope you can meet some of them one day."

  "My blog seems pretty useless when you think what we're up against," she said sadly.

  "Don't despair. Your blog increases awareness. And awareness is everything. In helping Mr A, you're getting the word out." He flung up his hands dramatically. "Hurrah for Mr A! He wants to change the world. Just be sure to let everyone know what a wonderful thing that is. You must play your part, you must be enthusiastic."

  She smiled ruefully. "You'd make a much better double agent than me."

/>   They continued working. Eventually, she shut her laptop.

  "Okay, it's done. All our info is out there. I ended up asking if we were about to be hit by an alien invasion."

  "Did Mr A feed that idea to you?"

  "Indirectly. It was a vision he gave me—about building the new world after the so-called 'alien war'."

  "Great. You're on safe ground. He should feel he's truly hooked you." He stood up and stretched. "Let's take a little trip while we wait for feedback."

  Gerry, with Jan on the pillion, pulled into a viewpoint parking area amidst rolling wooded hills. The parking area was empty, as it was already late in the afternoon.

  They dismounted and regarded the lovely view. Small pastures with grazing sheep and wooded hillsides stretched towards the horizon, where the sun had started to set. Deep, long shadows filled hillside hollows.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" He gestured expansively, like a real estate salesman. "Who needs people when you have this?"

  "Are you thinking that in the future this might be off limits to everyone except the elite?"

  "It could happen. As I said, future generations might be easier to control than the ones who went through the Sixties and the Thatcher years."

  "Meaning these future generations will be happy to take their recreation in government-approved places? Bit like the Third Reich."

  "They won't have any desire to challenge official policy."

  "As the poet said: Bondage with ease than strenuous liberty."

  "Milton was right. After having been through violent times, people will want to do as they're told. They'll believe in the system. They'll believe they helped create it. Dissent will vanish from the planet. And it will disappear because people themselves will be conditioned into reporting and destroying it. The period of adaptation to global warming will be controlled with a relatively small planetary population. The remaining people will lead lives of placid contentment–comfortably numb. At least till the next generation realises what has happened." He laughed darkly. "I hope I'm wrong."

  His words hit the right notes for her. If there’d been a state-controlled TV in every German living room, Hitler would have won hearts and minds in months. She shuddered to think what could be achieved today by power-obsessed regimes.

  Silently, they continued to eye the view. The sun began its final descent below the horizon. Shadows deepened and darkened, and a chilly wind tousled the grasses around the car park.

  "It's obviously going to be difficult for me to go back to my old life after this, covering county weddings and council meetings."

  "D'you think local authorities are exempt from demon infiltration?" he asked with a questioning smile. "All official bodies are centres of influence. They can become foci for political agendas, so why not for demonic ones?"

  "I still won't be going back to the paper," she said decisively.

  "You're going to lead the Earth First Movement. You've been chosen."

  "Why shoudn't I be? I've the talent for it. I'll be a modern Joan of Arc!"

  "Jeanne d'Arc was betrayed by her king. For ‘king’ check Mr A."

  "You’re trying to discourage me?"

  "Not in the least. Just stating historic facts. Joan may have been schizophrenic. She heard voices that she thought were messages from God."

  "Any more comparisons?"

  "She was heavily into cross-dressing. Back then it was thought to be a sickness, if

  not downright heretical."

  "I admit I only wear a skirt or a dress to funerals and weddings. You think it would be OTT if I owned a white stallion?"

  They laughed, but she felt his mood darken. "While we were out of contact, I looked for a convincing military flight path for that light in the field."

  "Did you find one?"

  "I'm not sure.” Gerry shrugged lamely. “I can't honestly say I have for definite."

  "It's okay," she said reassuringly, patting his shoulder. "I know where the light was officially heading." She told him her dream, omitting the bit about Hemingway, which she found too distressing to mention.

  "An old airstrip with a bunker," he mused aloud. "Perfect. It's not shown on the OS map because it was part of our so-called national security. That's why I couldn't find it."

  "But why did the light come down five miles short? Surely Mr A would have had perfect control of his own technology?"

  "Because he was targetting you. There's no other explanation. Those two unhappy barmaids were simply collateral damage."

  She frowned. "Don't you think that's a bit unlikely, that it came down short because of me?"

  "It worked, didn't it?"

  The conversation was cut short as a sedan pulled into the parking area. An elderly couple got out and observed the shadowy view.

  He studied them with a puckered brow. "We should go. Night's closing in."

  "You make night sound like something threatening."

  He smiled inscrutably. "It might be."

  They climbed onto the Harley and left the parking area.

  The elderly couple morphed into multi-eyed demons and stared after them.

  At the warehouse, Jan and Gerry switched on the laptops and went to the blog to check responses.

  "There are hundreds of replies," he exclaimed. "See what I mean? You have a ready-made audience. Now you can start your Earth First Movement!"

  He sounded so convincing, for a moment she wasn't sure whose side he was on. He must have played similar mind games before, but how would she know? She was a novice.

  Quickly, she ran through the responses. "These are mostly conspiracy guys. They're sceptics. They won't be convinced by my propaganda."

  He looked at her darkly. "They're not convinced yet. But we'll see."

  "There are guys asking what they can do. How they can help. I'm amazed. Will these people let the authorities sweep the world into a phoney war? …Not without a massive protest, I'm sure."

  "Judging by this, they could provide considerable opposition. I’d thought the spaceship freaks would have outnumbered the conspiracy guys, but it's the other way round. This proves that the most active element out there is firmly into government lies and cover-ups. So Mr A and his human cronies will have their work cut out to get that false-flag alien invasion up and running. This could change your role."

  "D'you think I'll still have one?"

  "We'll have to assume you will. But we'll need to be more vigilant and cautious. Let's just stay devoted to Mr A and see what happens."

  "Shall we reply to these people?"

  "We simply haven't time to weed them all out. There could be Special Branch or Black Ops spies among them, but it's impossible to tell which they are."

  She recalled the two detectives waiting in the car outside her flat. "These human helpers might be evil, but are they demons?"

  He smiled grimly. "That's an open question."

  "D'you have a plan?" She suddenly felt dangerously out of her depth.

  "It's time for action. We should organise something spectacular and sound a wake-up call. Planet Earth is on the brink of an invasion!"

  12

  A group of two-hundred protesters had gathered at the field gate behind the Half Moon Inn. Some took photos of the DANGER KEEP OUT sign. A group of protesters were made up like hideously deformed mutants. They unfurled a banner with STOP THE ROT–DEMAND THE TRUTH in bold red letters. Another banner read: SAVE THE PLANET–AN END TO HOMO CORRUPTUS.

  The press arrived, including Russell with Alec the photographer. Alec began taking photos, while Russell chatted to protesters and made notes. He spotted Jan and shrugged a silent question, tapping his finger on his notebook. She shook her head.

  She’d opened a Pandora's box, but had to keep going, had to play the game to its conclusion, whatever the outcome. Standing on an empty beer crate found at the back of the inn, she addressed the excited crowd through a megaphone. Gerry remained anonymous, sitting on the Harley to the side, visor down, looking intimidating all in black
on that big bike.

  Clearing her throat and taking a deep breath, Jan officially began. "Thanks for coming. If you've read my blog, you'll all know what happened here."

  Murmurs of assent floated forward. Some protestors, carrying Geiger counters, started to climb the gate.

  "Please don't go into the field," she yelled. "It's dangerous! Radiation levels are high! I can't be responsible if anyone gets hurt!"

  Concern rippled through the crowd. The protesters with Geiger counters stumbled back.

  "We need to know who did this," she continued firmly. "This is our country. We need to take it back into our protection."

  A cheer went up . But Jan, unaware that she was perilously close to crossing a line, simply wondered how much longer could she keep up the double act.

  As if in confirmation of her fears, she spotted Ashtar in that familiar flowing robe standing near the inn. She turned away, avoiding eye contact, waiting for his message. He reappeared at the back of the crowd, staring at her, hindering her capacity to think. No one else, not even Gerry, was able to see him and this realization made her feel trapped and vulnerable.

  Again she turned, but still he appeared before her. The power of his penetrating gaze began to disorientate her. He seemed to be everywhere and she couldn’t avoid him. The reason for her being there was muddled, and she struggled to address the protesters and stick to the false-flag script.

  "We want to, hmm, provoke a reaction and find out, hmm, who's behind this. …Is it aliens with new technology? We're owed an explanation." She endeavoured to regain control, but laughed idiotically instead, as if she was were drugged. "It could be Humpty Dumpty or the Red Queen. Or the Mad Hatter or the Cheshire Cat."

  Ashtar appeared in the field, in the centre of the contaminated area. He stared, his presence confusing her. She felt groggy.