A World Apart (10 page)

    The study was a long room with a wall length book shelf on the furthest wall containing various books from fiction, philosophy, evolution, technology and human anatomy; his father loved to read in his spare time, finding it his greatest outlet. He had a few textbooks published himself at the age of twenty-four and then again at twenty-nine entitled ‘
the contemporary study of neurobiological studies and technological innovation to enhance performance in military and covert operations’
and
‘Mirror images: a study on how the face of communication transformed fraudulent activity’
which proved very successfully both within England and America. The room was all dusty making Rupert sneeze as he entered, tripping on a box where a bunch of photographs fell out of and sprawled across the tiled floor revealing images of planes, tanks, campsites and men in armory discussing something around a rather large table. Rupert bent down to collect them and placed them in a pile on top of the box as he walked towards the desk and his father’s computer, hoping to find something key to his whereabouts. 
 

    Kolievof was starting his shift on the Iranian borders as nightfall was approaching. His job, unlike any other of the team members was to survey the area likely to be under threat from civil opponents, and also western troops on covert missions. The sniper post behind him stood tall, marking the sky. From here the villages were clearly visible, although the tower was covered with specially designed camouflage and hidden from the forestry that swooped each side. The Iranian president had tightened the country's military forces, which sequentially has sparked a religious conflict between nations, resulting in rebellion against the western schemes of seeking control of Iran’s nuclear activities. The Iranians claim this to be a breach of trust and modern propaganda to abide to the western’s idea of terrorism prevention that impact on culture and beliefs around the world. The whole idea is like a never ending wheel, as one country believes that there must be action taken out on people causing harm, another country has its beliefs and religion threatened which increases the likelihood of an attack which we have seen over the last twenty-nine years.

The snow was falling thick and fast; covering a soldier as he paced around the barracks that had been built slightly lower than land level to disguise itself from enemy planes; positioned perfectly near the border so that it could not be surrounded.

    ‘Ready Sir?’ enquired the man in the front seat of the helicopter, wearing a set of unhealthily large ear phones; looking back at the man strapped up in diving gear as he was reaching for his chute pod. The pod was based on the principles of an aircraft, but rather the person lies in the middle and straps themselves into the craft, creating a better, quicker diving experience and also prevents from being detected on military radars and navigation pointers that scan the night’s skyline.

The dark figure was only visible from behind the helicopter doors as the young man slid them open, where he was blown back a few steps into another colleague. The wind was guzzling in from the open compartment ahead of him as he stared he thought that this may be his last moment of peace; the frantic fear for his life grew like the sun spinning wildly towards the Earth.

    In the next instance all that was visible was the back of the man falling towards the potent pale purple sea. The vibration on the face and clothes was astoundingly terrifying as the masked man plunged further and further towards the sea at a staggering speed. The man and pod fell horizontally until the pod was released from the grasp of the man as he released his parachute, which tugged him back into the air, rapidly reducing his speed towards the open sea. However, the pod was still plunging towards the sea, crashing into the ocean but then surfacing and being taken along with the current towards land.

    Frankie could feel the deeply cold freezing feeling of the water below; descending violently. Just as he was about to plunge, he released his parachute and gained speed for the remainder of the fall; crunching into the crisp corrosive sea whilst holding his breath for his life. He collided into the sea, bubbles whizzing around him from the impact that he and his craft had just made in the water; making him disorientated and fumble. He reached for his pocket-knife and began cutting the weight of the equipment, as he was decreasing quite quickly. He struggled for what seemed like an eternity as he tried to free himself from the straps that would not budge. The darkness loomed overhead as he descended deeper down the sea's intestines; he held his breath until he could attach his oxygen cylinder and mouthpiece. Finally, the strap broke free, by now he was grasping on his last breath; his heart was racing like he had never felt. The icy cold waters were so penetrating that he felt his skin being eaten away by the very thought of it against his skin.

    The pod was lonesome on the sea's surface, drifting aimlessly around when the equipment and oxygen cylinder shot up from underneath the water. Frankie surfaced after a moment of despair of losing his cylinder, resulting in him having to swim frantically to the top. When he emerged he let out a whining inhalation that did not stop for a while, as he really did feel numb, anxious and full of adrenaline.

After sorting himself out with the oceans current and regaining his breath he looked for the pod and swam courageously over to it, where he boarded and then started to clean some of the equipment; meddling with the levers onboard. Frankie drifted off to sleep soon after eating the food bars provided and sipped some purified water. He sunk back into the uncomfortable pod, looking amid the stars and thinking of his son and his granddaughter that he hadn’t even seen yet. He had been contemplating retiring from the agency for a while now, with the prospect of having a granddaughter made him want to be there for her at every instance. He wished to build his relationship with Rupert and Kerry back, feeling very distant and regretful he shut his eyes and prayed for his life unaware of his position and location.

    The hail hit him hard cracking his visor as it fell from the sky in all directions, although Frankie thought it was all on him which was contributed to his mood that progressed from the night before. As he lifted his head he realised he had fallen asleep and before he had time to navigate he had already drifted ashore a country unaware of what it was or where. He scanned the shore, the sun shining on the cliff edge as the sand and stones were darkened from the shadows of caves and wreckage; noticing a quiet aura on this desecrated coast.

    ‘Please would everyone leave the building at the nearest fire exit’
repeated an automated voice as Lensa and Eric were holding each other, along with Jessica and Alexandra who was tucked up in her body carrier now attached to Eric. They watched as people left the museum near the green lit doors to the left next to collection of 19
th
century coins and notes, along with interesting facts and figures which Lensa was encouraging Jessica to read earlier. Lensa nudged everyone as they stood up and left the building, following three flights of stairs to then be finally greeted by army squadrons and police officials that escorted them to safety and outside the museum. The press had cornered the people leaving the museum asking questions, when a police official informed them that the operation and the safety of the people in this vicinity were as yet insecure, as he directed them to a safe distance with a distasteful gratitude. The family were escorted further to a team of medics and physiological examination which they refused right away and insisted they were told what was going on, to be only told it was an intruder and that they should go back to their homes away from the incident. Eric really was puzzled from the lack of professionalism and transparency within the squadrons to provide them with adequate help and assistance.

    The family left in a hurry trying to forget what had just happened. They headed for the tube station where they ended up in Camden town where they walked along the jingly road towards the Camden Bridge, black in colour set in a location that really is quite Italian with houses, shops and walkways presented either side of the river, running beneath them all. Eric compiled his umbrella and fastened it back into its holster as the family stopped for a short breather on the bridge, overlooking the water and surroundings. Eric and Lensa never paid much attention to Camden as they felt it was quite expensive and just generally not to their tastes, although Eric did feel comforted from coming here. The family felt a glimmer of hope in the scary tales of ten minutes ago.

    The four walked casually through the chaotic streets to reach the underground station where they caught several trains back to their home in Islington. Jessica looked especially happy about the prospects of bumping into Mr Biggles and his wild sweet shop. The train journey seemed like it had taken the life out of Jessica, even though it was only around eleven minutes until they were walking down the same street they paraded down yesterday. Jessica wondered off ahead that worried Lensa considerably.

‘Jessica dovn go to var’ announced Lensa with extreme caution.

‘Ok mummy I won’t. I just vant to get to Mr Biggles’ sweet shop in time to get the question right this time’ replied Jessica in her usual groaning voice; one that Lensa hears far too often when she is telling her off.    

    Jessica was disappointed to find that Mr Biggles’ sweet shop was closed, only his shadow was visible from the window; he appeared to be emptying something through the secret door. Jessica turned around whilst skipping, recalling her happy visit the other day and as her head turned and she paused still as a post. Her eyes were locked on Mr Biggles (Arthur); looking very suspicious in the shop window, as he felt prying eyes on his back he turned to face her and made sudden eye contact with her, as quick as a flash he closed the curtains and disappeared. Jessica told her parents, to be only fobbed off with the excuses like maybe he is making a special batch of sweets for all of the children that gets the questions correct and that maybe one day that could be her. She waved this away and protested that something odd going on in the shop involving the owner and that they should go back to see what he is up to. Lensa instructed that is has been a long day and that we maybe are a little delirious. Jessica sighed and ploughed on into the night with an eerie churn in the mist of her stomach that made her restless that night.

    Henry lurked around in front of the empty road, filled only by a gentle breeze and the distant sounds of late activity. The figure was tall with mousy hair, although this was not visible for he was wearing a flat hat that matured him greatly. He was holding some scrolls of documents, carrying a computer bag slung over his shoulder that was going to fall off at any moment, or rather his arm for the deadening strain. Henry’s face lit as he let out a tiny smile as the old man hobbled towards the back-to-front mirrors, which was installed for the children and adults he assured himself. The old man reached for his pockets quickly and pulled out the biggest collection of keys, bolts and gadgets, all attached to a sharp metal key-ring that swung delicately as he searched for what he thought was the correct key. He is frantically loveable although he does act silly sometimes, losing his keys and cracking jokes at the most inappropriate of times. The children are amazed by his inventions, revealing the latest gadget he’s been working on, such as the miracle height expander that allows people to reach another level, then there are others like the natural sweet that made from pure earth’s minerals, and the all senses at once sweet called the five forces which contains the juiciest and the sourest ingredients you can think of that stimulates every sense.

    There once was an invention that caused a young girl named Stephanie that lived around a five-minute walk from the shop. She had taken the crazy drink formed by Mr Biggles, who had not properly tested it yet and left it in the same room as the most inquisitive girl he had met, especially for her age. She was a very pretty girl and well-spoken although she loved to get into mischief and adventures that scared her parents dearly. The girl drank the purple fizzy liquid down as if she hadn’t had fluid intake for a long time and she started to feel funny. She felt a pain in one side of her face as she screamed Mr Biggles and a few of his assistants around eight or nine years older came rushing over to her. When they asked her what she had swallowed she could barely talk. The drink was supposed to make you confident, although Mr Biggles had mixed up the contents and instead made the users head expand to an unusually large state; reaching almost three sizes bigger than normal. This incident nearly cost Mr Biggles his job and his home, due to the parents of Stephanie suing Mr Biggles, taking a lot of his earnings, which left him with barely anything to survive on. Being like he is, he didn’t want to give in so easily so he had the will power and business techniques to gradually make his way back to a good standard of living, which meant his inventions, could start again. He made sure that he was going to be extra careful from now on and not take any risks and start with little inventions, which over time became complex and huge projects. The girl still suffers from what happened to her, being nicknamed and bullied which upset Mr Biggles who was currently in search for a cure so that maybe he could obtain his money and his reputation back.