Beauties and the Beast (16 page)

“Yeah, but they're not really dead,” said Billy, “just doped.”

“There have been cases reported,” continued Thornton. “Throats ripped out, bodies drained of blood. Cases still open on police files in the States - and Europe and Asia.” He stalked the stage. “This is the perfect place for such beings.”

“I could imagine it,” said Billy. “It's like a bloody tomb.” He laughed and stared into the lights. “I can see it now, row after row of zombies.” He paused. “I've had audiences like that, only it was after the show, when we'd blasted the nerves from them.”

Thornton moved at an amazing pace then, it was almost as if he was flying and he rammed his mouth onto Billy's neck and hissed. The singer shot into the air, his face scarred with terror. “You bastard,” he exploded. “You scared me shitless.”

Mickey tittered nervously. “Did you hear about when Dracula went to the blood bank? He was the only bloke who ...”

“... went to make a withdrawal.” Billy and Thornton came home with the punch line to the archaic joke in unison, which brought more laughter than the joke.

“I once played Dracula,” said Thornton, succumbing to nostalgia. “The critics said I was better than Lugosi.”

“I'll bet you were a great big pain in the neck,” said Billy.

Thornton scowled, but Mickey laughed. “Pain in the neck,” he gurgled. “I like that.” Then his laugh disappeared. “I don't know,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “Vampires, ghosts, kidnappers; this place has really got to you, Billy. Mind you, you forgot one thing - beings from outer space, close encounters of the third kind, visitations. Maybe the women are aliens and this is their space ship. Maybe they've taken us away for experimentation.”

“That's not as crazy as it sounds,” said Billy earnestly. “I've seen it on TV. They come and collect people, zap them unconscious and when they wake up they're on board the space ship. Only they don't know it's a space ship until it's too late. It could be, I mean, this place is weird, everything that happens is weird.”

As if to reinforce his words the computer chattered into life and they were instantly drawn to the screen. It was a space ship, gliding silently through stars. Then Angela's head, disembodied, appeared. She smiled. Her teeth glinted and there was a rush of overheated wind through the ancient building and the stage took on new life.

It was no longer dark and dingy. It was no longer inside. There were pink fluffy clouds scudding through a strangely brown sky. Twin red moons sat faintly glowing. Mountains, dark purple and menacing, hovered on an horizon and a perfumed breeze rustled through shrubs with alien-shaped, pale blue leaves and oddly coloured blooms. There was a sun too, somewhere, for the heat beat down.

Strangely there was a bank of computers standing under a tree that might have been genetically engineered to protect it from the sun.

Angela was there too, standing under the tree staring at a screen. Only she was less formal than before. She was wearing a two piece swimming costume that was almost see-through. If he hadn't been so afraid, Billy would have been slavering at the sight of her body. But the suddenness of the change was too much for him. He fell in a dead faint.

Mickey's mouth dropped open. “Bloody Hell,” he said, “the bugger was right. We're not on earth at all.” He hurried over to the fallen rock star, and tried to revive him

Thornton's mouth went dry. He balked at the thought. It was preposterous and yet... he turned a full circle. He was here. It was a surrealistically unearthly scene, but it was real. Or was it? He thought of the Green Room and the costumes he
knew
where there, the drugs Billy
knew
were there, the bar Mickey
knew
was there; three different mental images from the same place.

He walked quickly to the patch of dark blue grass onto which Billy had collapsed. Mickey was gently slapping the singer on the face. Thornton grabbed the portly comic's arm and yanked him to his feet.

“Hey, watch it,” said Mickey, pulling his arm away. “That hurt.”

Thornton ignored the complaint. “What can you see?” he hissed.

Mickey smiled. “I can see the blonde sheila standing half naked under that tree over there.” He inclined his head to the left. Thornton followed the direction. He too could see Angela, long-limbed and beautiful, standing by the computers.

“Can you see two moons?” asked Thornton.

“Yes,” said Mickey. “Can you see the purple mountains?”

Thornton nodded. “So we both see the same thing.”

“Seems like it,” said Mickey. He was feeling remarkably comfortable with this new scene. He was enjoying the heat and the novelty. Oddly he did not feel fear.

Billy groaned and struggled into a sitting position. Mickey helped him to his feet. The singer clutched onto his arm. Mickey grinned at his discomfort. “Don't panic,” he said. “You'll be okay.”

Billy drew away as his senses returned. “I was right,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “We've been kidnapped by aliens.”

Angela strode towards them. She had changed to a computer game Amazon. Mickey stepped back.

“What are you?” he asked.

Angela smiled brightly. “I'm with management, “she said. The voice was electronic.

The three men drew closer together.

“She's a bloody robot,” said Billy.

Mickey remembered the woman who interrogated him. “If she is, it's not the Caduti woman. She was as real as you'd ever get.”

The new Angela continued to smile vacantly like a Barbie doll.

Mickey reached out to touch her. The teeth grew points and leeched blood. The comic drew back in horror. “Shit,” he said.

“This is not real,” said Thornton. “The colours are all wrong.”

“It's another bloody planet,” said Billy. “Of course the colours are wrong.”

Angela took a mechanical step towards Billy. “Let's party,” she said, arms outstretched.

“Not on your life,” said Billy, hopping quickly out the way.

Angela stopped. “No party. How sad; you and your band.” She sighed, dropped her head, and slid into motionless silence.

All three men looked on expectantly but nothing changed. The silence was utter but for the rustling of the leaves. There were no birds, no sounds of civilisation, and no human voices.

Mickey warily skirted round the lifeless form of Angela and made for the computer bank. The others quickly followed him. Not out of a sense of leadership, but for the comfort of humanity in an alien place.

The computers were lifeless too.

Mickey walked round the tree and studied the terrain. They were in a small dip, surrounded by blue grass and sky. Mickey's face took on a determined look and he began to walk up the slope.

“Where you going?” asked Billy.

“To the top of this hill to see what I can see,” said Mickey.

Billy looked at Thornton, who shrugged. Neither was the explorer type. Neither was Mickey under normal circumstances, but his urge to find out was lemming-like. He strode, heart beating fiercely, to the top of the mound and there he stopped, stunned by the view, by both views. The dark terrain the three stars were in, stretched out into the distance, a tree studded plain, that on one side, edged into deepening red-hued darkness and on the other to a dazzling yellow-edged light.

The view stretched into infinity, but there was no animal life, no people, just the heat, and the breeze. He stared. There seemed to be a haze shimmering in the darkness. He shivered. It looked so cold.

“What sort of a planet have they brought us to?” he muttered.

Then, from the yellowed brightness came a familiar figure - the little man in the white clothes. Mickey watched, puzzled as the strange figure moved towards him, beckoning. With only the slightest hesitation Mickey set off across the plain.

This time he intended to find out exactly what the man was up to. As he strode out he felt exhilaration.

He became a mixture of James Bond and Sherlock Holmes, an all powerful, all knowing super sleuth. Gone, in his mind was his rotund body and disintegrating kidneys. He was super fit, lithe, a mental giant.

Chapter Twenty One

Thornton and Billy watched the comic disappear over the top of the hillock.

“He's bloody crazy,” said Billy. “Why would he want to go wandering off on some alien planet?”

Thornton bit his lip. He didn't have an answer.

Billy walked half way up the hill and then came back. He fronted Thornton. “Are you scared?” he said.

Thornton shook his head. “I should be,” he said. “I'm living the unknown. But oddly enough, I'm not.”

“Me neither,” said Billy. “I feel as calm as if I'd had a handful of Valium. Crazy innit, here we are, kidnapped by bloody Martians or something, dumped a planet that's nothing like earth, with a robot woman who wants to party and not another soul in sight. And I'm not scared.”

Thornton scratched his cheek. He stared at the unmoving figure that pretended to be Angela. The dank, stinking darkness that he had encountered in the theatre seemed light years away. So did the terror sweats and the foulness of memory. He smiled ruefully. Maybe they were light years away. Maybe he was enjoying the adventure of a lifetime, the schoolboy dream of close encounters of the third kind.

“What beats me,” said Billy. “Is why we've been brought here. Is it a game: a bloody new play by William Shakespeare with parts for us all?” He kicked at the ground. “It's all so bloody frustrating. I just wish somebody would come and tell us what's going on. Anything's better than this waiting.”

Diana was the answer to his wish. Or was she?

Billy was wary when he saw her figure, lithe, pale, and partly covered in one-piece swim suit, emerge from behind the tree. She smiled and her hair glinted even redder in the peculiar lighting effects that surrounded everything.

It was the colour of her hair and the blue tinge to her skin that brought a brainwave to Thornton. “I've got it,” he said quietly.

“What have you got?” asked Billy, keeping a wary eye on Diana as she undulated towards them.

“The answer to the mystery,” said Thornton. “Just look at the colours around us. You'll notice there's no green.”

“That's fair obvious,” said Billy sarcastically.

“I mean,” insisted Thornton. “There's no green pigmentation. Even in the blue. Like the picture on a TV set with one colour missing.”

Billy stared around him. “Yeah man,” he said. “I get you like when the green dot goes. Weird.”

Diana reached them. “Sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said.

The voice was not robotic. It was the voice of efficiency they both recognised. Billy stared at her. She smiled, just teeth; gleaming, well-looked after teeth.

“What's going on?” Billy felt he could trust her answers at least. She looked real. Not like the Angela image, standing stock still, head down like a store dummy waiting to be undressed. Billy's eyes flickered back to Diana. The light on her flesh made her look like an animated corpse, but her smile promised warmth. Her body... it was just as he imagined it under her clothes.

“What's going on?” Diana's voice had an impatient edge suddenly. “You're auditioning, you know that.”

“I know,” said Billy, exasperated again. “But where the hell are we?”

Diana smiled again. “Not quite.” she said.

A burst of tinkling laughter came from Angela. The two men turned quickly to see her walking sedately towards them. “And keep your bloody robots away from me,” said Billy.

“Robots?” A look of puzzlement crossed Diana's face.

“Let's party.” The electronic voice rasped out and Diana laughed. “Angela,” she said with a mild edge of reproof. “She's clever isn't she?” Diana said to the men. “I could never exercise enough control to be a living statue.”

Angela joined them; normal, beautiful, radiant. The heat suddenly intensified.

Billy looked incredulous. “You mean all that was an act?”

“Good wasn't it?” she said, checking her skin.

It was such beautiful skin that Billy had an overwhelming urge to touch her, but she stayed tantalisingly out of reach. “Naughty boy,” she said, lips pouting.

“Angela!” The sharpness was back in Diana's voice.

“I know.” The blonde's pouty remark was to Diana but her eyes never left Billy Winter.

From out of nowhere came a blast of thunder and thick purple clouds raced overhead. The men looked skyward; the women did too and bowed their heads. The clouds raced on and the thunder dissipated.

“Look,” said Billy. “I'm sick of all this. Just tell me what's happened. Where are we?”

“We're here,” said Diana, spreading her arms wide. “It's not perfect, I admit, but it's on the way isn't it?”

Billy shook his head in frustration. “On the way to where?” he asked.

Diana smiled enigmatically. She was a Mona Lisa with blue-red hair. “To where we're going,” she said.

“And where the fuck's that?” Billy's temper flared. “What are you? Fucking Martians or what? Why have you brought us here? Why have you kidnapped us? What do you want with us?”

“Billy.” Angela's voice professed hurt. “How could you say such a thing? You came here because you were called. No-one kidnapped you. That's silly.”

“I don't seem so silly to me,” said Billy. “Look at the view.” He waved his arms expansively around the hollow. “We're on another bloody planet for Christ's sake.”

“Or maybe in a different game...” Angela's answer rang a bell of hope.

“Don't give me that,” said Billy. “We were on the stage and next thing we were here.”

“What do you mean another game?” Thornton's curiosity was aroused again. Things were beginning to fit in with his own theory.

“You alien bastards, take me home,” Billy slipped into hysteria mode.

Angela's face twisted into a sinister grin. Blood droplets formed at the corner of her mouth. “You are so close to home you wouldn't believe it,” she said.

Billy cast a look at Thornton, who didn't seem to notice the blood. The actor was staring at the tree, still thinking. Then he spoke. “Another game eh? Or is it a new scene maybe or a new location - a change of set.” He was silent for a moment and then he said: “Then there must be wings, and judging by the way you two entered, they must be behind that tree.” He set off at a march.

“I wouldn't if I were you,” said Diana, mildly. “You won't like it in there.”

Thornton smiled triumphantly. “It's all done with mirrors, boy,” he boomed to Billy. “They didn't fool me for an instant.”

He stepped behind the tree and disappeared.

“What's he mean?” asked Billy.

“It's an old fashioned concept,” said Diana. “Magicians used mirrors to fool their audience. Today our mirrors are different. We use technology. Magic windows, lighting, laser beams, back projection.”

“You telling me this is all illusion?”

Diana smiled acknowledgement.

“So where's Finnegan? He went over the top of the hill there?”

“Back stage of course, where else could he be?”

Mickey was not on any stage set, he was in the middle of an adventure. He was a space ship commander, and the little man in white was a friendly alien trying to make contact with the human race... except he'd seen him before in the theatre.

The theatre! Mickey stopped. They had been in the theatre and now they were on an alien planet. The theatre must have been a room on a space craft. An assumed reality hit him. He
had
been kidnapped by aliens. He remembered the little man in white, the strange being in the Green Room, and he felt, deep inside, that the little man in white would have the answers. He began his trek again. He had a hunger to find out the truth, to boldly go where no man had gone before.

He walked on into the featureless landscape, instinct taking over his senses. He stopped and searched the horizon. Then he saw the man, a tiny shadow in the light. He was standing motionless. Mickey waved and the man began to move towards him. He grew in the light, but he stopped in the blue-white twilight.

Mickey was sweating. It was hot on this new planet, one without any sun but two moons. The heat didn't make any sense, but that was the way it was, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He stopped in the twilight zone. To his left was the dark menace, to his right the yellow brightness. The yellow was not warm. The warmth was in the darkness.

To a man of Billy's religious upbringing that was all wrong. Darkness was cold and bad. The light was God's weapon against evil, warm and all powerful. He stopped and the man in white spoke.

“You are close to the end,” he said. “They have power, but you have more strength than you know. You can fight them. Inside you have strength. Do not let them win.”

Mickey stared: at the man, at the light, at the darkness. “What is this?” he whispered hoarsely.

Then he had a flash of revelation. “I'm dying,” he whispered in awe at the realisation. “But I'm not going to die. I'm having a near death experience. The white light is... the other side. The darkness is the world.”

His mind raced. It explained the wrongness of the warm dark and cold light; it was the warmth of life versus the cold of death.

He looked hard at the man. “It's not my time yet is it?”

“Everyone's time comes when it comes,” said the man. “It be not the time that counts, but what is done with the time.”

“Don't talk in riddles,” said Mickey. “Am I dead, dying, or just dreaming?”

“You are in danger,” said the man. “The audition is danger. You must pray that they reject you.”

“Or what?” asked the bewildered Mickey.

“You will suffer.”

“Look,” said Mickey. “You seem a nice sort of bloke, a bit weird, but nice. You turn up at the strangest times and in the strangest places. You've talked to all of us at different times and you keep telling me to fail an audition for a great new comedy and you don't give any reasons, none that make sense anyway. Tell me straight, am I having a near-death experience or am I really on the surface of another planet?”

“You are where realities are blurred,” said the man. “Everything is as it is, real and yet it is not as it is.”

“Riddles, riddles,” complained Mickey. “Am I here, or am I imagining it?”

“You are here all right,” said the little man. There was a heavy sadness in his voice.

“But where is
here
?” Mickey's voice was becoming shrill.

Just then came thunder and a cloud of blue scudded across. The little man stepped away from the twilight and he looked up, a trace of apprehension on his benign face.

“If you win the role it will be the biggest loss you will experience,” he said. “You will lose your soul.”

Mickey laughed. “Lose my soul? What makes you think I have one? In my business it goes to the Devil at an early age. You get your success and then just wait for him to collect,” he said bitterly.

The thunderclap almost deafened Mickey and he jerked his hands over his ears. “Jesus,” he said. The noise must have frightened the little man, for he turned and fled disappearing like a little dark star.

Mickey curled the collar of his jacket up, expecting rain, but the cloud rolled away leaving the sky as it had been; blue, tinged with red with gentle pink clouds floating across it. He stared into the light but was still no nearer to finding out what was happening. He looked round the featureless landscape. There was nothing. No sounds, just the breeze. With a sigh, he turned round and trudged slowly back to the hill that had led him to this strange meeting. He was no longer a super hero. He was Mickey Finnegan, overweight, underwanted and in total confusion.