Blurred Vision: Seven billion voices about to be silenced

by Chris Botragyi

  The three looked at each other for a third and final time. This time though, the look was one of ultimate dread.

  Chapter 11: Checkmate

  JAMES sat on the floor with his hands either side of him in the dirt, sobbing like a child. His fragile state had now reached fever pitch, he was on the brink. As the last man remaining, this terrified him to epic proportions. He zipped up the thin cotton jacket that he wore; it barely added any extra warmth to his cold body. His tears had fallen down the front of the material, drawing in the wetness as it blotted.

  He placed the back of his head against the wall; the coolness eased his exhausted mind for several seconds. Closing his tired eyes, the violent deaths of the other humans played over. The scenes raced around his skull, quickening the unravelling of his sanity. The end was inevitable – he knew this, there was no denying it anymore. He continued to cry as the full realisation hit him. Every minute that passed could be his last, it could be the time when they came for him. He placed his head in his hands, and raked them backwards through his hair. Shaking, he suddenly felt nauseous. Sickness rose in his stomach, forcing him to all fours as he gagged several times. Nothing vacated his body, there wasn’t anything left.

  The effort left him even more drained. He brushed the palms of his hands with his fingers, desperate to remove the grease that stuck defiantly. When this failed to work, he scraped them down his trouser legs in an angry last stand. Satisfied, he licked the salty taste from his lips before using his jacket sleeve to wipe his eyes.

  Every conversation, no matter how trivial, now seemed a distant memory. The scuttling across the metal floor appeared amplified in the silence as he sat alone, multiplying his paranoia as he listened intensely. He hauled himself to his feet to escape the insects – after all, he still didn’t know if they were poisonous or not.

  He began pacing the room’s perimeter in an anti-clockwise direction, dragging his right hand across the wall as he went. This is the end! He stopped on his third rotation. His left boot had caught the edge of an object and sent it spinning across the grating. His heart drummed heavily before he realised that it was the weapon. He hurried furiously across the floor with his arms held out, swimming through the mist as he hunted the device.

  ‘Come on, where are you?’ he said, panicking as he dropped to his knees in an agitated search. Forgetting the insects, he patted the floor area in and around the direction of where he thought the sound had trailed. ‘Please God, help me find it.’ He was becoming increasingly distressed as the minutes ticked by, though his worn limbs had found an adrenaline-fuelled second wind as he groped frantically. ‘Yes!’ he exclaimed loudly as the cold steel touched his hand, startling him. He immediately quietened as he picked up the gadget and clutched it lovingly to his chest.

  He had fallen into a light sleep. The weapon was still held tight between his hands, as dreams of home stirred his fractured soul. His thoughts drifted back to his family, and how his school teacher mother and office worker father had raised him and his sister with love. He was from a nice middleclass working family. They were showered in love and hugs, sometimes too much he often thought, but nevertheless always received. He dreamt of how his little sister, Kelly, had pestered him to play with her when all he wanted to do was hang out with his teenage friends. And when she wouldn’t give in, he did; even when his friends laughed and mocked, he never let her down, and for this she adored him.

  His nights out with his friends, the nightclubs and pubs as they staggered drunkenly from one venue to the next. The first proper girlfriend that he’d had, a brunette called Karen. What was he thinking as he fumbled clumsily with her bra strap on their first intimate date? Both giggling as the struggle turned into an epic fight with lace fabric and plastic clips. How they had laughed hysterically afterwards. Her laugh… he remembered her laugh. In this moment, he missed her terribly. Then there was the time when…

  A loud bang struck the outside wall, waking him from the memories of his now lost life. He half opened his eyes, groggy. His heart fell once again as he realised where he was. It soon leapt into the roof of his mouth as the door panel began to glow.

  ‘No, not yet, I’m not ready,’ he cried. He juggled the weapon in his trembling hands, steadying it as best he could. With his back against the wall, his feet danced in cruel anticipation. He waited for the door to open… and waited, but it never happened. Why haven’t they come for me, has something gone wrong?

  As the silence continued, he remained on edge. He sat alert with the weapon poised, but still the door remained shut. He was aching to remove his jacket as the tightness had become increasingly uncomfortable, but he thought otherwise. Besides, it was too cold. Even though his jacket was thin, it was still an extra layer. I wonder if it’s cold in here because they thrive in such conditions?

  The triangle began to light, striking the mist. James jerked nervously, his head shooting from left to right as again he readied himself. Still holding the device, his right arm fell; the sound of the device hitting the floor waking him fully. He slowly climbed to his feet, the simplistic task becoming harder each time. The weapon shook heavily in his hand as he waited. Again, the door failed to open. He dropped back to his previous sitting position, using the wall as leverage to keep his body from collapsing. He growled at the stinging soreness that occupied his upper thighs as he moved. Looking down, his face contorted at the damp patch that had spread outwards from his crotch. He felt the area, hissing again at the chapped pain. ‘Fucking hell,’ he said in shame, realising that he had urinated while asleep.

  He had by now given up on the smells in the room, including his own, as he was becoming accustomed to them. ‘That’s twice now that they haven’t entered when the panel has been lit.’ He sighed, smiling as his head fell back against the wall. ‘You dozy twat! They haven’t bloody entered the room because they’ve no intention of doing so,’ he said. A grin of admiration spread across his weary features. ‘Torture, it’s all a form of torture.’ He looked upwards and around the room. ‘Did you read my mind you grey bastards, eh? I know what you’re doing and it ain’t working!’ The truth was that it was working. He was finished, but he couldn’t let them see, let them feel the weakness that seeped from every pore in his body.

  He looked at the weapon once more, holding it close to his eyes; they hurt as they surveyed every part of the steel and its buttons. He liked playing with it, watching as the green electricity crackled and popped within the mist. It reminded him of a lightning storm, illuminating the clouds as it prepared to strike. He was going to miss the simple things in life.

  His fingernails clicked as they caught the uneven flush rim of the small silver button. He brought the device further up into his eyeline for a closer inspection. ‘Hmmm, Mark didn’t want to push this button.’ His fingers traced the slight curved bottom of the steel, rubbing it gently as he thought about whether or not to push the button. His childish enthusiasm got the better of him – he pushed. A six-inch long spike thrust its way outwards from inside of the weapon with tremendous force, causing him to jump back. It was almost completely thin, though its base was wider, yet much smaller than the handle. He smiled as his eyes climbed the steel until they reached the sharp point.

  ‘Nice,’ he said as his nerves settled from the shock. He prodded the underside of his fingers with the point, which offered him some comfort in the form of tension release. Scraping the floor with it, he stabbed a nearby insect that made the mistake of entering his space. He held the point close to his face, watching curiously as the creature wriggled helplessly. He pulled the dying insect from the tip and thrust it into his mouth. He retched profusely as he crunched and chewed with speed before finally conceding defeat, and spitting the mangled legs and shell to the floor. He retched again as the remainders inside of his mouth left a nasty twang. ‘I ain’t doing that anymore.’ Disgusted, he wiped the tip of the spike on his left sleeve. He looked at the purple innards that smeared his arm before rubbing over them with his righ
t jacket cuff. Pressing the silver button, the spike sprung in reverse as it enclosed itself within the shaft.

  He drifted again, this time dreaming of memories of home. At 11 years old, his first day at Burnham Upper School in Opendale Road, Bucks, and the fear that followed. This fear served him in every aspect of his life from that day forwards. Whether meeting new people or starting a new job, the fear remained; it always reminded him of that first important day.

  His dad dropped him off outside of the turquoise coloured gate. The place was huge compared to his Primary school. The old-fashioned box-like buildings appeared stacked upon one another as he stared out of the car window. ‘Go on, son, you’ll be okay,’ his dad had said. James had fought his dad when he intervened, attempting to straighten his red, gold and royal blue tie. ‘Just do your best, that’s all you can do.’

  He looked back at his dad who, sat in the family’s 1970 bright red Vauxhall Viva, smiled. Embarrassed, he flicked a quick hand up as he gestured to say goodbye. He watched as his dad sped off. Turning, he felt daunted as he made his way through the gate and into the masses.

  Suddenly, he was 18 and living in Shepherd’s Bush, London. His expensive apartment was small but nice. The white walls had remained the same, even after his flatmates, Steve and Jenny, had moved in to share the overpriced cost.

  Their nights at the Ginglik nightclub had become legendary over the last couple of years. The fun and laughs they’d had were what life and friendships were about. The night that Steve was so drunk he fell down the steps to the club, and this was before they had got in, was talked about for months afterwards. Steve had stumbled halfway down the steps, hotfooting it as he attempted to maintain his balance, only to have his fall cushioned by one of the door staff, a very big man at that, and not happy. Steve had laughed, and began mock swimming on top of the doorman’s chest! The only thing that Steve got that night was a black eye from the incensed man.

  ‘James, I love you,’ said Catherine, his mother. The overpowering smell of her strong perfume, Tweed by Lenthéric, swamped his nostrils as she bent to kiss him on the cheek. Her hair, a greying bob, fell across his face before she cupped it gently with her small soft hands. ‘Happy 16th birthday my baby boy.’

  The perfume’s dark green box was in the shape of a book. She had used it for as long as he could remember. It had fascinated him as a child; the white cameo head centred on the front cover looked elegant, rich.

  He was five years old and he hid behind the discoloured white door frame. He watched on as her slender right middle finger delicately touched the miniature bottle’s top, tipping it before dabbing the skin of her long elegant neck. She smiled into the mirror and winked as her blue eyes caught his tiny shadow hovering. He grinned back at her before running off.

  ‘James, help me,’ an eight-year-old Kelly had shouted. The older boys had pinned her against the wall; he stood scared as they slapped her around the head. Tears filled his eyes as the fear forced him into a 10-year-old coward. She came running into his arms when they released her.

  He woke silently. His eyes welled as the memories were all too real. He still held onto the guilt over the last images. Even though it was a trivial event in his childhood, he was forever haunted by it. He could feel Kelly’s little arms hold him tight, herself frightened as she hung on as though her life had depended on him.

  I have a sister! He thought about her, excited at the fact that sections of his memory were returning. But he wondered where she was, and if she was safe? He was suddenly angry at himself, angry that he hadn’t done more to pull her from the bullies’ clutches. A tear descended from the corner of his eye. He knew that it was all a part of growing up, but still the images would never let him be. He pulled on tufts of his thin streaked hair as other faces drifted through his brain. ‘My parents, my friends,’ he whispered to himself, ‘I can remember!’

  The panel started to light up again. He gingerly climbed to his feet once more, holding the weapon with a lazy grip like a sleepy cobra waiting to strike. This time the door opened. He remained static for a minute before slowly venturing forward, towards the opening. The mist changed its aimless direction as it began to flow out and down the corridor. His hands shook as he held them out, ready for the fight. The haze cleared a little, making his vision easier. As he approached within a few feet of the door, it closed firmly with a whooshing force.

  ‘Bastards!’ he shouted. The insult echoed the room in a metallic tone as he realised that once again they were toying with him. ‘I know what you’re up to, not all of us humans are stupid!’

  He moved back against the wall. Even though they were screwing with his head, he couldn’t take the chance. He wanted to be ready, in case they did decide to come for him.

  He sat for a while, trying to think. The dampness in his jeans hadn’t dried much. It added a colder chill as his body reacted with another layer of goosebumps. All of a sudden, a screeching feedback-like sound pierced the room. He dropped the weapon as he clamped his hands over his ears, crying out as the violent noise drove through his senses. After several thunderous jolts it finally stopped. He lowered his hands cautiously as a metallic female voice spoke into the room.

  ‘James. James, it’s your mother. Are you okay, are you safe?’ said the voice.

  James leapt to his feet and looked around the room. ‘What the…’

  ‘James, we all love you and miss you. Your father and sister are here with me.’

  He strolled round the room, looking upwards as he searched for a tannoy system of some type. But these were clever creatures, he didn’t expect to find anything.

  ‘Who is that speaking?’ he raged with clenched fists. ‘You’re not my mother!’

  ‘James, it’s me, Catherine… your mother.’

  ‘If it’s really you then when were you born, what’s your date of birth?’

  ‘12th August, 1958. I was 37 years old when I had you.’

  He narrowed his eyes. Is this a trick? If it is, it’s very good. He paused for several more seconds. ‘Where are you now?’ he asked casually.

  ‘We are all here on the ship. But don’t worry, son, we’re safe and well. Kelly’s here, she wants to talk to you.’

  Another female voice entered the room, though this voice was harsher, less refined. ‘James? Thank God you’re okay. We’ve been worried sick about you.’

  ‘Kelly, is that really you?’ he asked. He was starting to believe.

  ‘Yes, of course it’s me! I wanted to tell you something. I wanted to tell you that I forgive you, and I don’t blame you for freezing, for being scared when those bullies held me against the wall. It wasn’t your fault, it’s children being children that’s all.’

  James could feel the aggression rise in him. ‘Nice try you fuckers, but not good enough! If you’re going to fool me then don’t play messages of shit like that, especially since I’ve just dreamt them.’ He laughed aloud at their stupidity. ‘I thought that you were supposed to be intelligent beings?’ He ceased laughing as a strange thought suddenly occurred to him. How do they know what I’ve just dreamt? They must be monitoring my every thought, including this one!

  ‘James, we love you. Your father wants to say hello,’ the voice continued. ‘James, are you there?’

  He placed his hands back over his ears to silence the voices. He began crying hysterically as the emotion came flooding out of him, washing out all of the stress and fear. This was the final nail in his coffin. He knew that he was going to die here alone, there was no hint of escape, there never was.

  He sat with his back against the wall, opposite to the door. His hands were rested on his kneecaps as he stared wide-eyed at the floor. The weapon hung from his fingertips, dangling as if about to fall at any second. For the first time since he had woken aboard this craft, he felt relaxed. There was no more pain in his toned torso, no more tightness in his shoulders, he felt… normal. The only feeling that hadn’t changed was that of tiredness; he could easily fall asleep now and not w
ake for days. But what would be the point he thought, he would only come around to be faced with the same situation and set of problems. No, he would stay awake for as long as he could. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. The thoughts raced through his mind before he reopened them.

  ‘Mum, dad and Kelly. If you are listening to me now, I hope that you are safe. If not, then I pray to God to watch over you in the afterlife, I shall be joining you soon enough. I’m sorry for every single time that I made you all worry, or be concerned for my welfare, this I understand now. Kelly, I truly am sorry for not always being there for you. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me; I know that you will, but I still have to ask. I love you all very much, as I do my dear friends; the laughs will continue in a better place. I love you all.’

  The striking glow lit portions of the mist as the triangular panel lit up. James sat up straight as he heard the door open quickly. Two aliens walked through the opening, their eyes fixated on his calm being. He smiled as he focused on their shadowy frames that broke the mist’s coiling patterns. He hauled himself up to his feet as the creatures approached. There they stood, silent as the swirls lovingly caressed their large heads and thin bodies as they looked down upon him with a burning hatred.

  He removed his light jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He straightened himself to his full six foot height. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ he screamed. ‘Come on then you fucking skinny grey freaks!’ He held his arms at his side, careful not to reveal the weapon. ‘You don’t even understand what love and happiness are, do you? Your species is obviously incapable of experiencing it. This is what makes us different from you, better than you.’

  The aliens’ faces twisted with violent expressions as they moved in. James brought up his right arm in a flash and held the silver device against his throat. His heart beat rapidly, the sound of which could be heard pounding the walls of his ribcage. Black eyes looked on, enthralled as they measured the human’s unusual behaviour.