Zoo

by Phil Price

  “I am actually. I was just people watching while you were away,” he said, lifting the Albariño to his lips, enjoying the tart aroma. He took a sip, appraising the woman in front of him. Sylvia wore a long, red, figure-hugging dress, accentuating her curves. The red chiffon material on her arms clung to the skin, Paul drinking in the sight of her.

  “I do that all the time. It’s almost a fully-fledged hobby. Do you know what you’re having?” she said, picking up the menu.

  “I think so. I’ll start with the Patatas Bravas and Albondigas, followed by the Fabada Asturiana. And you?”

  “I quite fancy the Aubergine Parmigiana followed by the Spanish Bull Tail Stew.”

  “Sounds lovely.”

  “Well, this is effectively a tapas house, we can share if you’d like?”

  “I like,” he said, smiling. He removed his sports jacket, hanging it on the rear of the suede-backed chair, his dark shirt in contrast to his blue eyes and sandy hair.

  “So. Have you heard from Claire?” she said, testing the water.

  “Earlier today,” he replied. “She called me with a list of items that she wants from the house. She’s made quite an inventory.”

  “And?”

  “And I am tired of fighting. Things like sofas and dining tables can be replaced. As long as I walk away with a fair settlement and my personal belongings, I am as happy as I can be.”

  “You’re being very diplomatic?”

  “That goes with the job I guess. We’ve been married for a long time. Truth be told, the last few years have been null and void. Once the boys started turning into men, our marriage started turning into a convenience. I’ve had a belly full of that. I want to live again. As you said, I’m not exactly collecting my pension, so why not start enjoying myself?”

  “And are you?” she replied, testing the waters some more.

  He reached across and squeezed her hand. “Very much so, Sylvia. Thank you for this. I’d probably be sat in the flat, tucking into a takeaway right now.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. And I know that you’ll need to get used to your new life. No pressure.”

  “I know. I’ve become almost institutionalised. I have no idea how to do this.”

  “You’ll get there. Just enjoy being in your own skin - being Paul again – not just the subservient husband and dad.”

  “I intend to try. I also intend to scale back my work. Claire was right about one thing, I do work too much. I’m going to talk to Karen on Monday.”

  “What will you say?”

  “That I want to cut back, which might not go down well. The last few months have been draining. The alien abduction, the long hours and the turmoil at home. I am ready to quit if she does not give me viable options.”

  “What would you do if you had to leave?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure I will think of something though. One of my former colleagues runs his own security company. He’s asked me a few times if I would like to work with him. I dismissed it at first, but looking at it now, maybe it’s time for a change.”

  “Where does he work?”

  “Bristol. He handles security systems, alarms and CCTV, along with consultancy for some lucrative clients. Footballers, celebrities and politicians. He’s doing rather well.”

  “Sounds good. Maybe that’s an option if Karen pulls up the drawbridge.”

  He smiled, liking her turn of phrase. “What about you? Are you still happy at GCHQ?”

  “Yes. And even if you left, I would continue to work there. Although I’m sure my next boss would not be as hot as you, Paul.”

  He blushed, gazing into Sylvia’s brown eyes. “Thank you, although I assure you, I am not hot. I’m a middle-aged father of two, who is about to become a divorcee.”

  “Believe me, you are hot. Have you not seen the women checking you out?”

  “Where?”

  “That table in the corner. The one with the six women? They look to be on a Christmas knees-up. A few of them have been looking over.”

  “Well, I never noticed. And anyway, I am here with you, and you are stunning. Why would I look anywhere else?”

  She leaned over as a young female waitress headed over towards them. Sylvia kissed him softly on the lips, both sets of eyes closing as the world was shut off for a few seconds. “Thank you, Paul. You really are a wonderful guy.”

  “Have you decided yet?” the waitress asked, her West Country twang out of place in the muted restaurant. They ordered their meals, wine glasses refreshed as gentle Spanish guitar music filtered through the establishment. Conversation was easy, neither one trying hard to broach a subject. Paul sat there, rapt in attention at Sylvia’s words, her smiles, her giggles. The evening moved into night, gentle snowflakes collecting on the window panes as plates were replaced and bills asked for. A few hours after arriving, the couple headed out onto the quiet side street, a thin blanket of white carpeting central Cheltenham.

  “Thank you for a lovely evening, Sylvia,” Paul said as he buttoned up his jacket.

  “How far is your place?”

  The directness of the question flummoxed Paul for a moment. Quickly regaining his composure, he pointed down the street. “A five-minute drive, or a twenty-minute walk. Why?”

  “I thought we could open a bottle of wine back at your place, but only if you’d like to? No pressure.”

  “There is a taxi rank at the end of the street. Let’s get out of the snow before we freeze.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” she said, taking the crook of his arm.

  Sometime later, they lay in a tangle of limbs, half-consumed wine glasses on the bedside tables next to them. Paul gazed up at the ceiling, his breath and heartbeat starting to slow themselves. Sylvia lay with her head on his chest, her dress and underwear discarded on the floor next to the fitted wardrobes. The room was quiet, save for the noise from outside as the wind kicked up a frenzy, snowflakes battering the double glazing. “Weather’s getting worse,” Paul said.

  “Hmm, yes. I guess I’ll have to stay over.”

  “I’d like that,” he replied, his fingers dancing lightly over her creamy skin.

  They lapsed back into silence, each lost to their own thoughts before something came to Sylvia. “Paul, what about the alien abduction?”

  “It’s still raging on,” he said. “Another reason to take a step back at work. I know that our focus will be pointed towards the stars very soon, instead of intercepting chatter from around the globe.”

  “I’ve been watching it on the news every night. There have been mass riots in the Middle East, along with demos in the United States and here in the UK.”

  “Well, that was bound to happen. Over half the world’s population are religious, and they’ve just found out that extra-terrestrial life exists. It’s going to cause quite the shit storm.”

  “I’ve never really been religious. And I’ve never really thought about the possibility of aliens, but this has really opened my eyes. Has it opened yours?”

  Paul moved onto his side, looking at the woman next to him. “Not really. It’s been the dirty little secret for many years, since the fifties. There was the Roswell Incident, along with several well-documented sightings of alien craft around the world. This just confirms it all. And to be honest, it was only a matter of time until it was confirmed.”

  “So why the secrecy?”

  “Because keeping it quiet maintains order. I don’t know if you know this, but ancient civilisations talked about visitors from the stars. Some called them Sky Beings. Ancient Egypt was thought to have been visited by them numerous times. There has even been speculation about some of the ancient pharaohs being alien beings. There are many places around the world that we simply cannot explain. Stonehenge, Easter Island and the Nazca Lines. Maybe aliens have been visiting us for thousands of years. Maybe they have been linked to us more than we realise. But then, as religion took over, they either kept their distance, or we kept it quiet.”

  �
�Maybe,” Sylvia said simply, pulling the duvet over her legs as she moved closer to him.

  “I just know that things will now start to change, hopefully for the better. There may some initial chaos, but that will calm down. It’s just incredible to think that a species came from the other side of the universe to Earth. The technology to do that is just mind-boggling.”

  “I will take your word for that,” she said.

  “I do know one thing. The last few months have made me think about life. I’m sure the people who were abducted are thinking the same.”

  “What’s that?”

  “To grab hold of life and enjoy it, before it’s too late.”

  “Amen to that,” Sylvia said. “Why don’t you come and grab hold of me, so I can enjoy it,” she demurred, removing the warm duvet from her body, letting his eyes take in exactly what was on offer.

  Thirty-Seven

  Lundell

  Two months after speeding away from Earth with fighter jets following their ascent, Torben looked out of the cabin, across the calm sea. The ship had taken them home, coming through a wormhole a few million miles away from the planet of Biflux. They had been ordered to Lundell, Torben reporting to Commander Spelk, who had clapped him on the back as cheers rang out across the hangar, news to the captain’s heroics was the main talking point for all Biflex people. They had spent a few weeks at command, answering questions and receiving warm wishes from all they came across. Then an invitation had been extended to Torben, who had reported to the centre of the command post, a huge stone throne room, a throwback to a bygone era. He stood, facing a dozen Lomogs, trying not to look at their emaciated frames as they imparted their thanks. He was branded a hero, single-handedly stopping untold devastation. The Lomogs had offered him anything he wanted. Riches, or a ship of his own in which to traverse the stars. His answer surprised them, beady eyes staring at him in disbelief as their metal bodies whirred and clicked. Torben asked for a cabin next to the sea to start with, that he would build. The Lomogs had agreed, telling Torben to find a place where he wanted to set up home. They would supply materials and equipment. They then informed him to return to command once he was settled.

  They found an idyllic spot a few days later. Their craft had scooted across the equator, passing the settlement of Vasteras, a small fishing community next to the Sea of Sakarya. They had touched down, walking from the settlement along a gravel path that wound its way around the headland. After a short walk, they came across an open expanse of grass, framed on three sides by evergreen trees, the sea stretching out in front of them. Kyra had immediately fallen in love, Torben radioing his position to the Lomogs command. Less than a day later a sea craft had arrived, excavating machines rolling up the rocky beach towards the couple as they stood in warm clothing, braced against the stiffening breeze. Activity had been fast-paced, the workers felling hundreds of trees, while others dug out and set the foundations in place, and the Lomogs chief architect acted on Kyra’s and Torben’s exciting vision. Once the floor had cured, trimmed logs had been set in place, the cabin taking shape quickly. Kyra had visited Vasteras, leaving Torben to work with the architect, securing doors and windows as others fitted the timber roof. She returned back hours later as the sun was about to kiss the western sea, happy to have secured several items of furniture for their new home. Over the next few days, services were connected to the cabin, and a small Ion generator and solar-panelled roof tiles installed. They spent the weekend alone in the cabin, Torben building a boundary fence around the perimeter of the cabin, giving them some privacy, as Kyra spent most of the weekend back in Vasteras, talking to tradesmen who would apply the finishing touches to their new home.

  He looked down at the table next to him, picking up his mug of graff, taking a sip as Kyra walked out onto the stoop. “Shall we finish the jetty today?” she said, wrapping an arm around his waist.

  He looked down the grassy slope towards the sea, smiling at the half-built structure. Wooden pilings ran from the shore out into the water for fifty feet, a few roughly hewn planks screwed into place to give it some strength. “Great idea,” he said, looking across the grass towards his newly built workshop. “I’ll just finish the graff and get the tools out of my den.”

  “Your den? Is that what you’ve called it?”

  “I like it. Makes it sound cosy. I’ve already hung a hammock on the veranda looking out at the sea. I can relax there, while you bring me beer and graff.”

  “So, Captain. Is that how you see our future? Me being your personal assistant?”

  He smiled, lifting her into his arms. “I have more plans than just food and drink.”

  “Is that so? I cannot wait to see what schemes you have dreamt up.”

  An hour later Torben was twenty feet out at sea, using a portable drill to screw the planks into place. Kyra was knelt next to him, making sure that both sides of the jetty were even as a figure came out of the trees a few hundred yards away. “Torben,” she said, pointing up at the treeline.

  “What?” His eyes tracked up the grassy slope, past the cabin to the gravel pathway that led to town. A lone man stood there, his hood covering his head. Torben placed the drill on the planks, standing up slowly before walking back to dry land, Kyra linking his arm. The man stood there motionless as they approached slowly, Torben feeling the first prickle of danger, noting that the man was tall and rangy. “Can I help you?” he said, letting go of Kyra as he approached the treeline.

  The man removed his hood, a shock of unkempt red hair standing out like a beacon in the morning sunlight. “You are one hard man to find,” Ark Ramkle said, a huge grin splitting his face.

  Torben’s legs felt unsteady as he peered into the eyes of the ghost in front of him. He tried to speak, his words floundering like a fish on the rocks. “Ark?”

  “Yes, my friend,” he said, breaking into a jog towards his friend.

  Torben staggered towards him, catching the younger pilot in a bear hug. “I don’t understand. I thought you were dead?” They swung each other around, tears mingling with laugher as the woman approached, a bewildered expression on her face.

  “So did I,” he said, embracing Kyra warmly. “Quite a place you have here.”

  “Never mind that. How? I thought you were at Lomax when the bomb went off?” Torben asked, wiping his eyes.

  “I will brew some graff,” Kyra said. “You two get comfy on the stoop.”

  Torben grabbed his friend again, his emotions boiling over as he openly wept in his embrace. Ark, not one for emotional episodes, wept too, holding his friend tightly. “Long story. It’s so good to see you, Torben. I never thought I would again.”

  They walked down to the cabin, seating themselves on the wooden bench, looking out at the sea. Kyra appeared a minute later, placing a brushed-steel tray on the table in front of them, letting the graff brew in a clay pot. She pulled up a chair, regarding the young man in front of her. “We thought you’d perished in the explosion?”

  “I got lucky. I was underneath the port, with a young humanoid. Nothing was going on as such. We were just getting to know each other. Then, the whole place shook, much of the lower levels collapsing. We managed to make it to a bunker, one that was built in case of an invasion. They only dug us out a few days ago.”

  “How is Biflux?” Kyra said, her face neutral.

  “Not good. Cantis and parts of Walvak were either completely levelled, or contaminated. When they found us, we were moved immediately into an irradiation chamber, staying in there for hours whilst they scanned our vitals. As we were leaving the planet, we could see the devastation. Many of the large glaciers high up in the tundra have melted, flooding many settlements further south. The place is a tomb.” His words hung in the air, Kyra getting up to pour three mugs of graff.

  “Kyra lost her parents. They lived in neighbouring Kiton.”

  Ark’s face dropped, looking up at the woman who handed him his drink. “I am so sorry. I really am.”

  “Thank you,
Ark.” They would not have felt anything I’m hoping. They probably died in each other’s arms. That is the only shred of comfort that I can take from it.”

  “I truly am sorry for your loss. So many lives lost. Such a fucking waste!”

  “Are your family okay?” Torben enquired.

  “Yes. Mother and Father were outside the blast radius. They are here on Lundell, to the east of command. We have family there, who are putting us up while the Lomogs figure out what happens next.”

  “I’m glad they’re okay,” Torben said as he took a tentative sip of his drink. “I still cannot believe that you made it out alive.”

  “Nor me. It was not much fun. Fortunately, the bunker was stocked with provisions. However, boiled red rice and rainwater is not what I would call exciting cuisine. But it kept us alive.”

  “So, who was the lady that you were stuck with?” Kyra asked as she tried to brighten the conversation.

  “A young pilot called Ebrisa. She was staying over at Lomax, awaiting orders. We’ve kinda been inseparable ever since. She is checking us into a guesthouse in Vasteras. Once we were rescued, all we heard about was Torben, the saviour.” He smiled a toothy grin that made the others follow suit. “Man! How did you pull that off?”

  “It was not easy. I activated the Singularity next to their ship. It pulled us both through, depositing us in the solar system where we’d travelled to before. I could probably try that manoeuvre a hundred times and only succeed once. Not long after, Hameda’s ship blew up, close to the planet where the abductees came from. So, we dropped them home and returned to Lundell. And here we are.”