The Watchers (10 page)

Chapter 17

New York

“Hey, Pi,” Tom said enthusiasticall
y
when Jay answered the phone.

His new friend’s voice came back sounding pretty cheerful. “Can you stop calling me that? I’m not a pumpkin.”

“Hey, you’re quick this morning, considering the state you were in last night.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about kid.”

Tom chuckled. “So…are you going?” Tom had already guessed the answer to that.

“Going where?”

Yeah, he knew it
. “England.”

“Why would I want to go to that foreign country?”

"Ha, after all you said last night. You're not going to go, are you? I knew it!"

“Kid, I had a gut-full last night. I could have said anything.”

“You said you were going to get her back…Fran, I mean. You said you couldn’t live without her anymore and that you were going to England to find her and ask her to marry you.”

“I’m not the marrying kind, kid, believe me.”

“So you’re not going?”

“Nope.”

Tom knew it!
"Tosser!" he spat before he ended the call.

Despite the abrupt end to their conversation, the two of them had become good buddies over the past week. They'd hung out together practically every day, usually in Jay's loft. Jay still treated Tom like a little kid, but Tom was used to that now and he couldn't visualise it changing anytime soon.

The night of the siege had sealed the deal on their allegiance when they saw the Watchers take out the terrorists. After they’d finished blowing away the ashes of the five men and disappeared into the forest, Tom and Jay had made their way back to the train dumbstruck, until they saw the hostages.

Most of them were still onboard wondering what to do. Some had run away and hidden in the trees, while the rest stood outside the carriages, huddled together in groups. When Tom and Jay walked out of the woods, they fired questions like bullets, asking where the terrorists were and what was going to happen next?

“Where’s the driver?” Jay shouted into the jostling crowd, as more of the hostages emerged from the train.

“Here.” A guy dressed in an Amtrak
uniform stepped forward.

“Man,” Jay shook his head. “I’m kinda glad you didn’t, but why the hell didn’t you just get the train outta here when we were gone?”

The driver looked from left to right as his bushy eyebrows moved up and down on his forehead like black crawling caterpillars. “I didn’t know if I should. I didn’t know...”

When the train pulled in at that next station, no one had been more surprised than the cops and the press, as the headcount included two additional civilians after counting the one dead hostage.

That was over a week ago and since then Jay and Tom had talked to the feds, the police and the press, and spent many hours doing interviews and features for Sky News. It had been one crazy week. The news now hailed the Watchers as hero’s, vigilantes sent by God to protect the good citizens while the good government put the country back together again. It was propaganda at its best.

Last night, the unlikely pair had gone to a bar down a backstreet near Jay’s apartment. He called it his local. By midnight, Jay had drunk himself into oblivion, until he passed out in the comfort of his own home, where Tom had dragged him.

That morning, as if Jay backing out of the England trip wasn’t enough to ruin his day, along with regretting every minute that he hadn’t taken a single picture of the Watchers when he’d had a chance, Mia had gone off on some crusade to Stonehenge where Tom couldn’t reach her unless she wanted to be reached.

Life was a bomb, Tom Stone thought, as he slammed the door to his room and once more left his mom’s apartment through his window, to go onto the streets of New York City.

Jay Pullman began to wis
h
he'd never woken up that morning. What with a mighty hangover and a call from the kid shouting the odds down the phone at him. It was too much, especially when he'd only managed to drink two cups of black coffee so far. He pushed himself to walk into the kitchen area. His feet dragged along the floor, scraping the bottom of his black leather mules, a Christmas gift from his mother. He pulled the coffee pot from the hotplate and poured himself another cup and when he sat down on the couch and put his feet up on the table, his memory of the night before started to unfold. He'd felt like drowning his sorrows since he realised he was missing Fran more than he’d care to admit. After the beers and the chasers, and the girl who’d poured herself all over him, the one who looked like Fran with something missing…

Fran!
He had tried to reach her but she wouldn’t take his calls. He’d lost count of the number of texts he’d sent her, the number of messages he’d left. But she still hadn’t responded. It was like she’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

The phone rang again. It was the kid, calling from his cell phone. How could the little twerp even afford the line rental? Jay pondered.

“So, are we going to England or not?” Tom asked.

Jay grinned. He was impressed with the kid’s resilience to his bad humour. “Yeah. I must be crazy, but yes, we’re going to England.”

“Great.”

“Hey, hold on there. Who said you were coming?”

“You did, last night. You said you couldn’t live without me.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“Nope. And by the way, I can’t afford it, so you’re picking up the tab.”

The phone went dead.

Okay, so this is it, Jay thought. I'm gonna come and get you, Fran Shriver. At great expense, I'm bringing you back to New York where you belong and I'm not taking no for an answer. He picked up his cup, closed his eyes, shook his head, and took a long gulp of his hot black coffee.

Wiltshire, England

With Charlie at her side, on a lead
,
Mia took her nine o’clock walk up to the stones as she had every morning since she’d arrived ten days before. It was a pleasant ritual. She felt such peace and calm within the circle that she often thought, when it was all over, how much she was going to miss being there. Each time she went to the Henge and closed her eyes, she played back in her mind the meeting she’d had with Uriel and the amazing things he’d revealed; like the bond they had with each other. How seven Angels were brothers, inseparable and indestructible, never apart.

The morning mist covered the top of the slope and the circle of stones, still not burnt away by the sun. It was always a breath-taking sight when she walked up in the morning. Somehow it looked different every time she saw it.

There weren't many people milling about at that hour, but generally, at other times of the day, most of them were eager to be among the stones before the dawn of the summer solstice in a week's time. Some of them chanted and danced, in tune to homemade wooden instruments. They made such strange movements, that Mia couldn't help chuckling to herself at their devotion to the pagan rituals. The truth was, to Mia it just all seemed a little over-the-top. It was just a little too extreme!

Up ahead Mia spotted Jesus. He had his head down with his hands in his pockets, strolling along the path to the stones looking like he hadn’t a care in the world.

When she caught up with him, he was sitting on the grass within the stone circle with his legs crossed, meditating. He’d discarded his woolly beanie hat in favour of a well-worn brown leather Stetson. His head was bowed beneath it, with only his bony shoulders and his knees protruding, as he crouched over his bare feet tucked inside the folds of his legs.

Charlie was panting with his tongue hanging out, but Jesus clearly hadn’t heard him. She didn’t want to disturb him; she had her own meditating to do. So she left him there and found the spot where she’d sat that night with Uriel.

“Hello, Mia.” She looked up. It was Jesus.

“I didn’t want to disturb you over there.”

He tossed his head towards the area he’d been sitting. “Hmm, yeah, praying!”

She laughed. “Is that right?” He had a dry humour, which kind of suited him.

“What do you do when you come here?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I just think about things.”

“What sort of things?” He sat down on the grass opposite her, almost exactly the same place Uriel had sat, but closer.

“Oh, you know, stuff!” She didn’t want to appear vague, but she could hardly divulge her rendezvous with the Watchers. Or maybe she could? They hadn’t told her to keep their meeting a secret.

“Kudos,” Jesus said.

Her eyes opened wide and wondrously.
“What?”

“It means praise or glory for an achievement.”

“Yes, I know what it means, but why did you just say it to me?”

“No reason.”

No way!
Jesus couldn’t be Kudos. Could he? It would be too much of a coincidence, but then again, they were sitting in an ancient megalith. Where better to meet other Kudos?

She took a stab at it. “Kudos to you too, Jesus.”

He held up his head and stared into her eyes, and then he smiled. “I knew it,” he said. “I couldn’t understand why a girl like you…no offence, would be here with folk like us. I knew you had to have a special reason for being here.”

Mia could feel tears stinging her eyes. Jesus…Kudos! A kindred spirit. It was a wonderful moment. “When...when did you meet them?”

He offered a graceful nod, as their camaraderie was confirmed. “Many years ago. It was near here. A place they call Woodhenge.”

“Many years ago? But how is that possible, they’ve only just arrived?”

“No, they’ve been here a long, long time. Only now they are showing themselves openly…well as open as they deem appropriate.”

Mia shook her head, there was so much to learn about the Watchers. So much she wanted to know.

“Anyway, I was camping near Woodhenge and like tonight, I went into the circle to meditate, to seek solitude and contentment.” He pulled off his hat, struck it on the grass and then put it back on his head. “I was attacked by two youths whilst I prayed. They robbed me and they beat me and when I ran away they came after me. That’s when the Watchers came. They destroyed the two men as if they were made of paper, returning their ashes to the earth.”

“Wow!” Mia whispered.

"The Watchers spoke to me." He tapped his forehead with one long, bony, nicotine-stained finger. "They said if I wanted to know more, I could meet them at Stonehenge the following night." He shrugged and smiled. "How could I not go?" His face looked as if he was remembering something eternally unique and wonderful. It was.

Mia couldn’t keep silent any longer. “I met them here too. It was only a couple of weeks ago.”

“I knew you were special.”

“Thank you. Can you tell me everything you know?”

He rose to his feet. “I’ll show you if you like. Come on.”

It was late evening and Mi
a
was sitting outside her tent looking at the now
very
overcrowded field. The surrounding area looked like a gypsy camp, littered with smoking fires, cooking pots, tents and makeshift washing lines. She briefly wondered what it would like after the solstice when everyone had packed up and gone home. She picked up some matches from a pouch inside her tent and struck it over the burner. It wouldn't light. She was out of gas.

She looked over to where Jesus’ van was parked. It was quiet over there. He must be asleep inside, protected by his emblems and crystals and stones. She smiled as she thought about him. They had become trusted friends since their discovery of each other’s connection to the Watchers. They were an odd couple, everyone must have thought so, but he was like a protective older brother to her now and when she left, any day, she knew she was going to miss him.

When they’d met up at the stones and they’d both divulged their Kudos status, Jesus had taken her back to his van. It was mid-morning, and the solstice worshippers were huddled in groups smoking weed and drinking white liquid from old brown bottles.

Mia followed Jesus through the masses of bodies, debris and mayhem to his van, when he stopped and looked about, ensuring no one was observing. “I trust you, as the Watchers have trusted you,” he said. “Everything you see here, I share with you only. You must not discuss it with a soul.”

She gave a sombre nod of the head. “Understood.” She tied Charlie to the bumper and instructed him to wait, while Jesus unlocked the back door. All of the windows had been painted inside and out, and as well as the normal key lock on the rusted handle, he also had two levers with an impenetrable padlock soldered on. He unlocked it and put the keys back into his pocket before he turned the handle. Then, after another quick glance around the area, he swung open the doors and pushed Mia inside.

Before she could get her bearings, he climbed in behind her and pulled the doors shut. Mia wondered if she hadn’t been a tad hasty in her decision to go alone to his van. The same feeling of foreboding only increased when he turned on a makeshift overhead light and locked three separate bolts on the inside of the doors.

He turned on another switch and then another. One was for a light over his bed and the other for operating a small whirring fan. It was meant to cool the interior, but instead, it circulated the rancid odour of urine, well-worn socks and air-freshener, making Mia gag at the nauseating smell.

Jesus watched her from one side of the van, where he was sitting cross-legged on his mattress. The rickety bunk had a sleeping bag on top of it and a dirty striped pillow at one end. Behind that with the extra light above it, was a low table with jars of economy coffee and dried milk, a box of cocoa pops and a half empty packet of digestive biscuits. Behind the passenger seat in the front, an array of crates and boxes were piled up, presumably containing everything he owned.

Mia sat on her knees on the floor, covered in dirty brown, mismatched remnants of carpet. To her right was an old wooden bottle crate covered in a yellowed white lace handkerchief. She moved her face closer to a photograph of a woman with long blond hair wearing jeans under a flowery white tunic top. Her face was young and very pretty. Next to the photograph was a half burned-out candle. Jesus leaned over and struck a match over the black wick and the light shimmered gently, casting a haze of life over the shrine of his beloved wife, Shanna
.

Mia couldn't take it all in. Within his living quarters, the only home he had, an enormous collection of pictures and maps and charts adorned the walls until not even a space the size of a stamp could be seen. From the ceiling and from shelves he had fabricated out of bits of wood, an assortment of stones, crystals and emblems dangled like a fairy's hanging garden, with twinkling ornaments, reflecting the light as they moved. Pictures of Angels adorned the walls, some religious some just whimsical. There were pictures of places she recognised, like Stonehenge and Avebury and the Glastonbury Tor and there were symbols and maps, some printed on A4 paper and some featured on tourist leaflets. As she turned to look at the van doors closed behind her, there at the centre was a mask of green, made of dried leaves and twigs forming a face staring out of the foliage like a bearded man.

“Jesus, what is all this stuff?”

He spoke with a truly loving tone. "I've been trying to find the meaning of it all ever since I met with them that night. I just needed to know more." He ran his hands over a photograph of an emblem with two circles intertwined. "That's the green man. In myth, he is the father figure. He is the resurgent life force of the forest and the field." He touched the leaves on the mask, now dried and withered.

He turned his shoulders to look at a picture above his bed. “You see this symbol...It is my most treasured and revered symbol. It is the labyrinth, also called the Cretan maze. It is illustrated all over the planet, even on the Nazca plains...on old Greek coins, Italian vases and tiles, on ancient-constructed pillars, but mostly it is etched into the ground in all sorts of ways, in all sorts of places on earth.” He paused for breath. “And here...” He pointed to a colour image next to the picture of the Cretan maze. The picture was old, once printed from Google Earth, looking like a circle formation filled with white dots. “This is Woodhenge. Where I met the Watchers. The dots you see are wooden posts protruding from the ground. It was discovered in 1925, estimated as being constructed in the late Neolithic and early Bronze Age. That would make it about 4,500 years old.” He coughed with loose phlegm in his throat. “It has been described as a replica of Stonehenge. They say the posts once supported a structure of some kind, but I believe it is a message in picture form. It could even have been constructed by the Watchers themselves.”

He pointed to a duplicate image next to it, where he had joined the posts and formed a pattern with a black marker pen. “I joined them all up and created a perfect Cretan maze. See?” He smiled.

“So…?” Mia was more than a little dubious to her new friend’s findings.

“It’s a sign. There’s something important to our future that involves a spiral maze. Did you know there was a crop circle in 2012, which was made like a Cretan Maze?”

Mia frowned. “Okay, so what do you think a Cretan maze symbolises? What does it all mean?”

As far as Woodhenge is concerned…and remember it has been likened to Stonehenge itself…I believe the wooden posts were once joined with something so that it created a spiral path.” He smiled.

“For what purpose?”

“Maybe as a portal into another world.”

Mia shook her head. Jesus was going way beyond any thoughts she may have had of the Angels returning to earth. What she believed was real, but the stuff that Jesus was describing was myth with no substance at all as far as Mia was concerned. She had seen the Watchers with her own eyes. She needed no pictures or symbols to make it any more real than it already was.

She had a notion, “The markings on the Angels, you know down their arms…”

He smiled. “I noticed that too. I saw at least six spirals and intertwining circles and some of the other tattoos were exactly the same images of signs I recognise, like the ones on the Nasca Plains, the Hopi drawings and also crop circles. I found that fascinating.”

Mia looked once more around the van. “It all seems so daunting…all this information. How does it relate to our life on earth, to the meaning of it all?”

“Mia, the symbols and drawings are the very fabric of the meaning of life. And the glue holding it all together are the Angels. That’s life.”