The Book That THEY Do Not Want You To Read, Part 2
Page 4
Tukaal - 'See if you can recall what happened at the bus station, Jeth, what happened there...?'
There is a distinct change in JP’s expression at this point. Suddenly, his eyes snap open, but it is clear that they are not seeing anything.
JP - 'Oh, fuck, I can see...things, weird fucking things...creatures...round...most of them are black...but others are turning red and yellow...slimy skin...look like an octopus...but only six legs...they’re screaming...shit, that sound, what the hell is that sound...! '
JP cries out at this point. It is a genuinely fearful cry.
JP - 'Aargh, it’s grabbed me...it’s looking at me...those eyes...such fear...such anguish...and...and...bewilderment...and that noise, fucking hell, that noise...they’re dying...all of them, they’re dying...and they know it...they sense it...so many dying...all of them dying...'
At this point, JP vomits heavily. Tukaal looks at the vomit on the windscreen, the dashboard, the floor and then on JP’s chest and lap.
Tukaal - 'Jeth, you need to come out of it, you need to let it all go and come back here. Jeth? Can you hear me?'
JP wretches once more, and a little bit more vomit slips out of his mouth and down into his chest.
Tukaal - 'Jeth. Something’s not right. You need to wake up.'
JP - 'It’s all swirling again...I’m slipping away...but I can still hear them...'
Another wretch, another dribble of vomit, some down the nostril this time. JP is breathing heavily. It takes well over two minutes for JP’s breathing to go back to anything like normality.
JP - 'It’s quite dark...I’m at a bus station...I’m talking to someone on my URG...but no-one’s there...no answer...I can leave a message...it’s a message for the Ambassador...something’s wrong, there were people at my home, official people, not the police though, others, possibly working for the Bad Guys, they were waiting...can’t meet tomorrow at my home as planned, will need to check out alternatives, will need to meet on Monday...hope this is okay...'
At this point you can see JP’s body visibly stiffen.
JP - 'Hold on...I can feel something...I’m nervous...something’s wrong...I’m looking around...there, those men, hurrying into the bus station...they look wrong, out of place, dark suits, dark shoes, sunglasses even though it’s evening...they’re not right...they’re looking in the general direction of where I was stood...good job I’ve moved...quickly, onto the bus...move to the back...keep watching them...they’re stood exactly were I was stood, they’re looking round...shit, they’re looking for me; they’re definitely looking for me...come on, bus, get moving...'
Tukaal - 'Where does the bus go, Jeth. Can you see where the bus goes?'
JP - 'Warehouse...I’m in a warehouse...I’m talking to a man...security guard, maybe? He’s laughing, I’m laughing...but I’m not happy...now I’m walking, walking towards a camper van...getting in it...starting it up...driving away, out of the warehouse...relief...I feel relief...now I’m wondering about something...where should I go? Want to be out of the city, but want to be close enough to get in tomorrow...where should I go...?'
Tukaal - 'Hayfield? Do you go to Hayfield, Jeth?'
JP - 'It’s getting quite dark. Pulling into a lay-by, road is quiet...parking up...swirling...swirling...oh, shit, that sound again...it’s fucking awful, they’re all dying...'
JP wretches again, but there’s nothing left to come up.
Tukaal - 'Jeth. Think about Hayfield. Try to get back to Hayfield.'
JP - 'It’s not swirling anymore...bubble...need to find the bubble...I’m in the city...there’s a heavy shower...I’m under cover, in the shadows...it’s morning, I think, I’m looking at...I’m looking at my flat, watching...been watching for some time...looking for something...looking...there, at the bottom of the steps, smoking a cigarette...he doesn’t fit...he’s waiting, waiting for me to come back...they’re still waiting...can’t meet here...need to find somewhere else...'
Tukaal - 'Jeth. Try to think about the camper van. Where have you been in the camper van?'
JP - 'Classical music...lots of classical music...happy...content...excited even...driving along, sunshine...in the camper van...hold on, swirling...shit...lost it...what the fuck is this?...I’m in mist, but it’s blue mist, the ground is rough and grey but shiny, like rock mixed with metal...shit, I’m flying, I’m actually flying, through the mist, off a cliff, swooping down...wow, how cool is this...'
A broad grin appears on JP’s face and his head moves slowly from side to side.
JP - 'This is fantastic...I could do this all day...'
Tukaal - 'Jeth. We need to know where the camper van is going...'
JP - 'Wheeee...this is just about the most fantastic thing I’ve ever done...what a shell this is...'
Tukaal - 'Jeth. The van.'
JP - 'Aw...no, no, no, no, no...fucking hell...losing it...camper van, camper van, think about the camper van...there’s a sign...Welcome to England...should I stop for a coffee...there’s a Costa Coffee at the next services...'
Tukaal - 'What’s the name of the service area, Jeth? Can you see that?'
JP - 'Driving again, back on the motorway, going past a turn off for the A69 Carlisle Newcastle...'
Tukaal - 'Jeth. Try to concentrate on when you composed a message. ‘In accordance with the requirements of the Threatening Species First Contact and Awareness Development Protocol...'
JP - '...a request is made to postpone the planned First Contact with... I’ve found it...they’ll have to postpone it, I know they will...'
Tukaal - 'Found what, Jeth. What have you found?'
JP - 'Thinking...planning...I need to drive home...it’s a long drive, I know that...too late to set off now...won’t get home until tomorrow evening...think...think...I’ll have to meet him on Sunday...shit, that woman in the caravan next door is big and ugly...'
Tukaal - 'Think about the URG, Jeth. Think about the URG.'
JP - 'Excited...I’m very excited...Yes, Ambassador...glad you called...glad you arrived safely...Darwen? Near Blackburn...oh, never been there...Can I tell you...what...oh, yes, the Protocol, need to wait until we meet...of course...can I suggest my home...Sunday, 1.00 pm...yes...'
Tukaal - 'Now, Jeth. Think about the excitement. What’s causing the excitement?'
JP - 'Excitement...fear...fear...shit, it’s all of them...they’re all doing it, they’re all screaming, they’re all falling down...their colours are fading...this is wrong...it’s not supposed to be like this...why is this happening...so much fear, so much pain...need to get away...something else...flying...yes...flying, want to do this forever...'
Tukaal glances down for only the second time at the notes he has been writing. There are now lots of notes.
Tukaal - 'Jeth. I want you to try to remember what you did before you spoke to the Ambassador. Where had you been? Try to concentrate on the excitement, not the fear.'
JP - 'It’s there...I’m giggling...so happy...I’ve got something on my head...the world looks weird...can’t focus...take them off...equipment...big, heavy, electrical equipment...transformers... put the goggles on...there it is, wrapped around the big cables...sleek, oily, black tendrils...didn’t think it would look like that...'
Tukaal - 'What Jeth? Didn’t think ‘what’ would look like that?'
JP - 'Fearful now...need to get out...need to got back to the van...scurrying here, hiding there...no-one about, but can’t be spotted...'
Tukaal - 'Are there any signs, Jeth? Anything that tells you where you are?'
JP - 'Found the culvert...slimy shit...dark...there...some light ahead...relief...back to the van...need to download the images...'
Tukaal - 'Jeth. Where are you? Can you see anything?'
JP - 'McDonalds...Quarter-Pounder Meal, large fries, large coke...take it back to the van...looking out of the window...really satisfied...will call when I get back to the caravan park...sun has gone down now, dusk...the chimney lights flashing, big one, little one... flashing...
driving now...I can see the sea, on the left, and some cliffs...would love to fly off those cliffs, out over the sea...'
Tukaal - 'Jeth. Are there any names? Can you see any signs?'
JP - 'It’s swirling again...all starting to swirl...I’m driving again, sea’s on my right now...how fucking weird...chimneys...much brighter...is it earlier?...I can see chimneys...one big, one small...40 miles an hour...Stirling...'
At this point, JP’s eyes snap open, and there is a grin on his face. Then he seems to become aware of the stench in the car, looks down at himself and says ‘Oh, fuck.’
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Diary Entry 24
[Collator’s Note: As could be seen on the video from Tukaal’s neural net, whilst JP was ‘fishing’ through the Researcher’s memories, Tukaal was making notes on a printed piece of paper that has obviously been part of the information sent to Stella Williamson by the National Trust. This hand-written note was in the pack of stuff JP gave to me. I did think about leaving it out because it just seemed like a repetition of what was in the transcript in the previous section, but I’ve put it in because there are a couple of interesting notes made by Tukaal which I have highlighted in bold.]
Hayfield — caravan site?
358 bus
Debenhams — planning the meeting (Sunday?)
URG — power cells
Shabalah?
bus station — message — for me — Saturday evening
people at his house
men turn up at bus station
warehouse — storage for camper van?
lay-by — Saturday night
watching flat — did R go back to house on Sunday morning?
flying — Utal Fring? Utal Ma?
Welcome to England — travelling back? Scotland? Wales?
Costa coffee — services
A69 Carlisle Newcastle — must be Scotland
postponement — Friday
long drive — will take all Saturday
caravan park?
calls me — Friday, fairly late
goggles?
electrical equipment, transformers, cables?
tendrils, black, oily, sleek — what could it be?
culvert — way in/out?
download images — onto what?
McDonalds
caravan park — same one?
dusk — Friday evening
chimneys — 2 — tall, short, flashing lights
cliffs — near the sea
40 mph
Stirling
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Diary Entry 25
[Collator’s Note: In addition to the list of words scribbled down whilst JP was ‘fishing’ through memories and vomiting, there was also a sheet on which Tukaal (some time later, I suspect) seems to have tried to map out the movements of the Researcher on the days before his death.]
R has been using camper van
Friday
* Goes into a place with lots of electrical equipment, cables, etc.
* Sees something with oily black tendrils through goggles and is excited
* Leaves through a culvert
* Sees two chimneys, one tall, one short, near the sea at a place called Stirling
* Gets food from McDonalds, around dusk, takes camper van back to caravan park
* Sends First Contact Postponement message.
* I call him later (when I got to Jeth’s house) to confirm initial meeting at his flat on Sunday
Saturday
* Travels back from Stirling in Scotland in camper van
* Gets back early evening
* May have left camper van at warehouse (secure storage facility) and then gone to his flat — may have had to take the bus
* When arriving at flat, realises something is wrong. People waiting for him
* Goes to bus station (evening?). Why? Presumably to go back to warehouse where camper van is stored
* At bus station, leaves message for me (Jeth and I were at Sukhis — should have had my URG with me!)
* More men turn up looking for him (presumably Mendelssohn’s men)
Sunday
* May have driven to campsite at Hayfield if previously parked in a lay-by
* Possibly goes back to his flat, sees people still watching it
* Does reconnoitre of Debenhams as place to meet on Monday
* Calls me (Jeth and I at Sainsburys)
* Suspects whoever is watching his flat is also able to track movements through power cells in URG
Monday
* Leaves camper van at Hayfield caravan site
* Takes 358 bus into Manchester for meeting at Debenhams
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Diary Entry 26
[Collator’s Note: There was another hand-written note from JP stapled to this section of paperwork, saying that if I was able to get this published, I was to insert this note as well.]
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Diary Entry 27
[Collator’s Note: Whilst this entry in the diary describes further the events of Tuesday 14th September, following the theft of the Ford Mondeo, the entries do not appear to have been written as one. I can only think that JP wrote the first instalment, perhaps broke off for a rest, or maybe to get something to eat, and then wrote the second instalment some time later in the evening. Both entries were typed Word documents on the main CD.]
A few days ago, I was a normal, law-abiding citizen who’d never had so much as a parking ticket.
Yesterday, I became a fugitive, a car thief and a nose-breaking thug who hangs around with a killer alien.
And, this afternoon, I became a brain surgeon....and then I became someone else.
My life just seems to go from the utterly sublime to the unbelievably ridiculous!
Having stolen our third car in two days (a haul worthy of any chav youth intent on a weekend crime spree), we had both agreed that the best course of action was to try to find the caravan site at Hayfield where we believed the Researcher had left his camper van before making his final, fateful journey into Manchester.
I had a vague recollection that there was a camp-site/caravan park at the end of Kinder Road, having visited the town on a couple of occasions for a bite to eat when returning from photo trips to the Peak District up around Mam Tor and Lose Hill. Tukaal confirmed this, probably drawing on the same information from his neural net that he had used last night in the conversation with the lads from Rochdale.
We arrived without incident at Hayfield, and quickly found the camp-site, though Tukaal did not immediately turn into the entrance. Instead, he turned into Bowden Bridge pay and display car park on the opposite side of the river and parked the car there.
‘So how are we going to play this?’ I asked as I got out of the car. ‘After all, it may look suspicious, two men turning up, breaking into a camper van...’
‘First of all we need to confirm that the camper van is here.’
I was about to ask ‘How will we know which camper van is the one we want’, when I was hit by the blindingly obvious.
I would know because I would remember. After all, I had already seen plenty of memories in which it had featured, whether it was memories of driving it around Scotland, sleeping in it in a lay-by or putting it in and taking it out of storage, it didn’t really matter. I knew the registration, the colour scheme, even the stickers on the back window. In fact, I suddenly realised that the more I thought about it, the more memories of the camper van I could see, new memories that I hadn’t glimpsed in the hour I’d spent searching through the swirling sea of lemonade, sat in the front of Stella’s Passat. There was a memory of sitting in the back, looking out of the rear window at a beautiful setting sun. There was a memory of listening to Beethoven’s 9th Symphony as the rain lashed relentlessly against the windscreen. Fixing a puncture on a quiet country lane. Trying to clean Bolognese sauce from the carpet. Dealing with a very inquisitive, very aggressive grey squirrel.
And if the sudden rush of visual images wasn’t enough, there was also t
he rush of sensations and emotions that accompanied them, hitting me like a tsunami.
The onslaught was almost too much for my mind to cope with, and I had to grab hold of the open car door to steady myself as I felt the whole thing begin to overwhelm me. It was almost as if, now that memories of the camper van were firmly anchored in my consciousness, they were able to attract other, similar memories from the unstructured chaos of the Researcher’s injected legacy, like iron filings to a magnet.
Quite how and why that should be the case, I couldn’t even begin to understand. But I welcomed it nonetheless, not only because the memories brought with them knowledge and understanding, but also because their unprompted flocking together spared me the need to venture once more into the ocean of lemonade where lurked those rogue memories of horror and death and screaming.