Eternal Return 3&4

Eternal Return

3

         
         Wednesday morning and Billy made his way to college from his house in Ampthill Road, Kempston.  As he walked he remembered the events of last night; the chubby lad and the disembowelled dog.  It seemed horrific and surreal in retrospect.  Billy found himself thinking and hoping that it was all just some kind of weird ganja dream and didn’t really happen.  When he arrived at college however, Tom was waiting there to meet him; confirming that the events of the previous evening had indeed happened.
         “Hi Billy,” said Tom, puffing and panting as ran to meet him.  “How would you like to meet up with some friends of mine at lunchtime?”
         Billy felt slightly embarrassed by Tom’s over-eagerness and felt instantly ashamed of himself for caring what others might think of their friendship.  “I thought you said you weren’t popular,” he replied, a little confused.
         “Oh these guys get picked on too,” said Tom.  “Other guys don’t like them because they’re really, really into science.”
         Billy smiled to himself.  His world was full of heavy metal bands, skateboards and marijuana but it wasn’t a million miles away from Dungeons and Dragons, computer science and Stephen Hawking.  At least he could share a love of computer games with these geeks.
         “I’m looking forward to it already,” he said.

         It was English Literature this morning.  Billy spent two boring hours hearing about the merits of Wuthering Heights and trying his best to talk eloquently about it, even though he didn’t really care for those kind of stories.  A bit of Shakespeare or some gothic horror from one of those romantic poets would be more his sort of thing.  But this love story, period drama stuff had him staring out the window and wishing he was somewhere else.  So when lunchtime came Billy was happy to meet up with Tom for lunch and go up to the science labs to meet with his friends.
         Billy met Marcus, Simon, Gary and Jeff.  Glasses, buck teeth, spots and the like seemed to be the norm among the science geeks.  None of them would make models or movie stars but they were nice enough lads, if a little dorky in their mannerisms and speech patterns.  Simon and Gary both even spoke like the stereotypical ‘anorak’, Marcus had buck teeth and glasses and Jeff seemed relatively normal on the surface but after a while of talking to him it was clear that he had an obsessively narrow range of interests and a certain tunnel-visioned lack of imagination beyond those interests.
         Then Billy was introduced to Lydia.  “Oh great,” she said when she was introduced to Billy, looking with disdain at Billy’s Iron Maiden t-shirt, “another drunken, sexist bore!”  She was slim, wore glasses and had her long, dark brown hair in two lengthy plaits.  But she was kind of hot.
         “Actually I’m neither,” said Billy.  “Hard Rock might be sexist, especially back in the 80s but proper metal isn’t.  And my drug of choice is marijuana, not alcohol.”
         “Oh, even better!” she said, rolling her eyes.  Billy liked her attitude.  He liked a girl with some fire to her.
         “So what have you been doing here today?” He asked her.  She rattled off some information then about the experiments she had been performing and the theory behind it.  Billy didn’t understand any of it but from what he could gather she had come up with a new idea and had formulated an experiment to test it with a team of people helping her, whom she took charge of and gave orders to.
         Billy just stood, his mouth gaping open.  “What’s wrong,” said Lydia, “can’t you believe that a girl would know about physics?”
         “No, that’s not it at all,” said Billy.  “It’s just that science goes totally above my head.  But I’m impressed.”
         “How can you be impressed when you don’t know a thing about science?”  She asked with a sneer.
         “Because I can tell that you came up with the ideas,” he said, “and you took leadership of the project.  And I like that.  I like women who can take charge.”
         It was Lydia’s turn to be stunned.  “Well, that makes a change,” she said, “the majority of guys instinctively patronise me.  I get it from both sides actually.  The other girls make fun of me for liking science and the other scientists belittle me for being a girl.”
         Billy thought for a while.  It was time for his pet rant.  “Numbskulls make fun of anything different,” he said, “because they have no personality of their own.  All they care about is pop music and the latest pair of trainers.  Of course a woman can be a brilliant scientist and more power to you!  Don’t worry about what those Prom Queen tarts think, with their make-up, high heels and pop music pap.  And don’t worry about the chauvinistic, idiot men either.  You’re great just the way you are.  I like what I see, anyway.”  And he meant it.  Her thin, pointy face and glasses, the whole shrew-like geek girl thing, her natural non-made up good looks, her feisty spirit and her superior intellect; all of those factors were appealing to Billy and he felt his heart beat a little faster when he looked at her.
         Lydia blushed a little.  Not enough to ruin her aloof aura of superiority but just enough to let Billy know that he’d made a new friend.  “I like you Billy,” she said.  “You may not know science but you’re smart in other ways.  Let’s meet up again.”
         Billy felt a swell of pleasure as he smiled back at her.  “Sure thing,” he said.

         Meanwhile, somewhere in Brickhill, a man in his late twenties was getting changed out of his work clothes with hastiness and a flustered manner that betrayed the fact that he felt furiously angry about something.  “Can you believe it, Ma,” he yelled out to his mother in the next room, “those bastards at the Council, sacking me just like that?”
         “What did you do wrong?” his mother’s voice sounded from the next room.
         The man, whose name was William, sprayed his whole body with deodorant with an intensity and determination that suggested someone delousing an infected carpet.  “I didn’t do anything, ma!” he screamed at the old woman, blind fury sending his voice up the octaves into a high, squeaky range.  “It’s just bloody politics!”  Hurriedly, William pulled out some other clothes from his frankly slovenly and untidy wardrobe.  He took out a swanky shirt and some funky looking trousers.  He was going to hit the town tonight.  “Years I spent working my way up through the ranks and brown-nosing the bosses.  And what for, huh?  For nothing!  The cunts!  Well, fuck ’em; I’m going out tonight and I’m going to get bloody plastered!  Hopefully I’ll pull too.”
         “Are you sure you should,” his mother said from the next room, “after just getting sacked?  Money’s tight enough as it is at the moment.”
         “Oh, give me a break, ma,” he snapped at her as he put on his shirt and trousers, “I’ve just had some bad news.  I’ve got to take my mind off it, haven’t I?”
         “I suppose so,” she answered, “but on a Wednesday night?  Where is there to go on Wednesdays?”
         “It’s karaoke night,” he said, looking at himself proudly in the mirror, “down at Esquires.”  Then he smiled at his reflection.  He looked good.  But the moment of joy was replaced by a moment of horror.  Slowly but surely a wet patch appeared on his trousers and grew and spread all over his groin and down the legs as his bladder lost control.  “Mum!” he yelled in panic and despair, “it’s happening again!”  William felt like crying.
 

4

         9am Thursday morning and Tom received a knock on the door.  Already Tom’s father was getting ready to take the van out.  He was talking to his boss on the phone about the next big job.
         Tom answered the door.  It was Paul of course.  His face looked eager and excited.  Tom invited him in for a cup of tea or coffee.  “It’s really not that glamorous,” said Tom, “but I thought it’d be nice to spend some time together.  The smells and sights can be pretty stomach churning sometimes but it can be fun to see what people leave behind; in a nosey, curious kind of way.  It’s certainly an eye opener, I can tell you.”
         “Don’t worry about the smells and vermin,” said Paul, still grinning, “I like gross things.”
         “Ok,” said Tom, with a bemused look on his face.

         Eventually Tom’s Dad was ready and after introducing himself to Paul, he loaded up the van and away they went.  “Got a job in Kempston,” said Tom’s Dad as he drove the van, “some old guy died up near Hillgrounds Road.  Pretty unusual job, according to the boss.  Ain’t got a clue what that means!  We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”
         “Sounds exciting,” said Paul, still grinning.
         “Intriguing,” agreed Tom.

         The first thing that hit them as they walked through the door was the smell.  “Woo!” said Tom’s Dad, “it’s a ripe one.  Sorry boys, but it’s the kind of thing you have to deal with in this job, I’m afraid.”
         Tom and Paul entered the house behind Tom’s Dad and instinctively put their hands over their noses to block out the smell.  After a while though Tom realised that it wasn’t the usual stench of rot or excrement that he was smelling.  It smelled like sulphur.  Tom knew that automatically, even though he had never smelled sulphur before.
         The place was dark; black curtains had been drawn across the windows.  Tom’s Dad stepped into the cluttered main room and stepped over the mess to get to the window.  Then he opened the curtains.
         As light fell on the room, Tom looked around in sheer, horrified wonder.  There was the usual mess of course but among the assorted bric-a-brac was a worrying trend towards the sinister and the occult.  There were strange symbols scrawled on the walls, in red paint against a black background.  Candles were everywhere as were strange metal objects, pentagrams, odd devices and figurines of gods; pagan gods by the look of them.  There was a shrine in one corner of the room with various feathers, sea shells and parts of animals on it.  It also had a human skull there.
         Tom heard Paul go upstairs and as he followed his Dad into the kitchen, he could hear Paul moving boxes in the room above them.  Flies were everywhere in the kitchen and the smell was the familiar but equally overpowering one of rotting flesh.  There was a cauldron over a wood fire instead of a cooker and in the cauldron was the decomposing body of a slaughtered goat.  Where the deceased occupant had got it from, who could say.
         Tom and his Dad went back to the living room, which in contrast seemed a tad more homely.  “I don’t know what to do about any of this,” said Tom’s Dad, looking around the room at all the symbols, candles, figurines and other bric-a-brac, “is this stuff dangerous?  Can we remove it?  Do we sell it or destroy it?  Do we need to get the house blessed?  I’m going to have to seek advice on this one.”  And he pulled out his mobile phone and began dialling.
         “Hey, guys,” came Paul’s voice from upstairs, “take a look at this!”
         Tom hurried upstairs and found where Paul’s voice was coming from.  In the bedroom and the back of the house there stood a tall brazier with charcoal and ash still inside it.  It looked ceremonial in design.  On the floor there was also a circle with a  pentagram inside it, all made from smeared ash.  A dagger and some kind of wild flower lay nearby on a small table.
         “And I found these,” said Paul, setting down a heavy box on the table.  He pulled out a couple of large, hardback books from the box.
         Tom looked at the remaining books in the box.  There were three more in there, making five in total.  They were different colours, the ones Paul held were black and a kind  of yellowy gold.  The ones in the box were blue, green and red.  They bore titles like “Invoking the gods”, “The Art of Foretelling” and “Healing and True Resurrection”.
         “Weird,” said Tom and he put the books back in the box, as did Paul.
         Just then Tom’s Dad came up the stairs.  “Come on, boys,” he said, “we’ll have to go somewhere else.  My bosses are seeking advice about that to do about…”  He paused, clearly searching for the right words.  Eventually, he simply said, “…things such as these,” and left it at that.
         Paul and Tom joined Tom’s Dad back in the van.  They looked at each other, each of them thrilled and bemused at the same time, and simply shrugged at each other.