Jelly Cooper: Alien

The Bay’s Head is an island off the coast of Seabrook. It’s unreachable on foot except for when the tide gets really low and a narrow path emerges, joining it to the beach. On these days, you can walk along the puddle-filled stretch from one to the other.

Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? There’s a catch, as always.

The path is only there for a couple of hours when the tide is at its lowest. Seabrook Bay has one of the highest tides in the world and when the tide turns, the sea comes rushing back at frightening speed to reclaim the land. Anyone careless enough to forget the time is in real trouble. The only thing on the island is sand, rocks, a scattering of trees and more sand. No phone boxes and no signal.

Anyone careless enough to forget the time and try to swim back to the mainland is dead. We have the third highest tide after Nova Scotia and a strange little place in South Wales. It’s savage (the tide, not those other places).

I don’t get wiggy about this like most people. I never have. Freak of nature that I am, I kind of like it. I find the solitude of the island soothing and I’m in dire need of some soothing.

Something is off. I’m getting so used to having my world turned on its head that I don’t for one second question my gut feeling that something isn’t right. I slow down, feeling sick. My stomach clenches, then relaxes, then clenches again. Saliva squirts into the back of my mouth. “Um, guys,” I mumble. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

My voice sounds faint, which it must be as no one looks around. I try to speak again, louder, but my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.

The key here is not to panic.

Blinking against the harsh sunlight, I fight dizziness and start to panic. Raising my hand to my eyes, I try to shield them from the bright white light. Agatha turns and runs towards me. Her mouth is forming words, but I can’t make them out over the loud buzzing noise in my ears. Yep, she’s definitely trying to say something.

Kamile.

She isn’t trying to say that, though.

Twirling, I rake the empty horizon. Everything’s so white.

Kamile. I am close, Kamile.

Impossible.

Sweat breaks out along my upper lip. This can’t be happening. I’m awake, for one, and it’s broad daylight; there’s no way that it can be him. I only found out about being ET’s long lost cousin this morning, it can’t possibly be him.

Except that it is.

The Hunter has arrived.

Remember when I mentioned just a moment ago that I was starting to panic? I was so wrong it’s not true. Real panic is when you go for a dip in the sea and look up to find that you’re too far out. You start to swim back towards the beach, but the sea has you and has no intention of letting go. You paddle faster, but you don’t get anywhere; you’re swimming on the spot against the rip of the current. Your arms and legs burn with effort for a while and then, when you think you can’t stand it anymore, they turn into useless dead-weights and you pray for the burning to come back. No matter how hard you try, you can’t get back to shore. You take in mouthfuls of water, your lungs ache and your head goes under. Your heart races so hard that you think it’s going to explode in your chest, if your lungs don’t burst first. Your hearing is fuzzy, your vision blurs and your mind bombards you with snapshots of important, significant things in your life; your family, your friends, scenes from happy occasions, the person that you love. And to make your last moments on Earth no different than life itself – completely bewildering – you see flashes of useless, unimportant things. Like the green coat hanging, unworn, in your wardrobe at home; the one you insisted your parents buy for your birthday. Then comes the blackness and you feel terror crawl across your scalp like a razor blade cutting through skin.

That is what real panic feels like.

I panic and try to fight the dizziness. The day becomes brighter as my grip on consciousness slips. The beach is being bleached right in front of me. Agatha and Rhiannon are stark, stretched, silhouettes. I fall to my knees and pitch forward onto the warm sand, jaw clenched, teeth gritted.

I mustn’t faint. Somehow I know that to black out will mean the end of everything. The Hunter will pin down where I am and come for me and after he’s got me, he’ll kill them. I really don’t want Rhiannon’s death on my conscience.

Rivulets of sweat run down my spine. Perversely, I shiver in the heat of the midday sun. Flipping over to lie on my back, I stare up at the sky and try to calm down. I need to think and I can’t think when I’m a millisecond away from going insane with fear. How can this be happening so soon?

I can’t focus on anything that will give away our location. No landmarks. Definitely not the sea. Positive that he’s seeing things through my eyes, I scream at Agatha.

“Stay back!”

My voice sounds strange and muffled. I try again. “STAY BACK.” Louder this time – good. “Hunter…see you…stay AWAY.”

Exhausted, I lie still. Then, the sickest thing ever happens: I feel the Hunter’s touch inside my head.

Let me in, let me in, let me in, let mein, letmeinletmeinletmein……………..”

You have no idea, no idea at all, how putrid and disgusting the feeling is. Imagine a spider crawling into your ear while you sleep. When you wake up, you can feel it moving about and you scream and shake your head and stick your finger in to try to get it out, but you can’t. And all the while, it’s still wriggling around inside your ear, with its eight, long, spindly, hairy, legs.

You’re not even close to what I’m feeling.

Fighting the urge to be sick, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think of something neutral, like the sky.

The sky.

I snap open my eyes and drink it in; the thing that stays the same no matter where you are in a small seaside village. I collect my thoughts and focus on one thing only; deep blue, cloudless sky. Spanning to eternity.

“Blue sky, blue sky, blue sky….” I chant to myself. “Blueskyblueskyskybluebluesky…….”

I giggle. I can’t stop. I can’t stop chanting either, only instead of saying it out loud, it goes round and round in my head.

“Stay away,” I gasp between hysterics. “Hunter is blue, I mean the sky is coming…STAY AWAY!”

Agatha and Rhiannon do as I say, thank God, and stand a short distance away.

I can’t believe how much this hurts. I thrash on the sand, tears running down my cheeks.

“Jelly!” Agatha can’t stand it any longer and steps towards me.

No!

Rhiannon yanks her backwards and I pray that she somehow understands, even though I know there’s no way that she can.

Agatha knocks away Rhiannon’s hand and snarls at the cheerleader. Agatha doesn’t do mad very often, but when she does, it’s a sight to behold.

“Get your hands off me or I will rip your arm from its socket. She’s hurting, she needs help.”

She steps forward and Rhiannon snaps out an arm and holds her back. Agatha narrows her eyes at the cheerleader.

“She said to stay back.” Rhiannon nods her head at me. “She said to stay back, so we should stay back. My cousin has fits; you should wait until they’re over and then check that the airway is clear before putting the person in the recovery position. She should be OK as long as her airway doesn’t get blocked.”

Agatha hesitates, her body pressed against the cheerleader, her eyes on my squirming body. It all feels wrong. I feel all of it.

“I don’t know…”

I feel the Hunter poking around inside my head. His presence throbs like a pressure headache building behind my eyes. My body starts to fit.

Without warning, the bashrak changes tactics.

Who are the people close by, hmm? Friends of yours are they? Hmm?

I go rigid. My mouth opens and I see the strings of spit bridging from upper teeth to lower teeth. How can I see myself? This isn’t right. My jaw widens more than it should be able to. I fear that I’m going to flip inside out.

Do you think that they’ll fight before I kill them, hmm? Think that they’ll scream as they die, hmm? We’ll see, we’ll see.

That singsong, cracked, wrong, voice makes me tremble. Through the terror, though, comes hatred. Hot, blind, hatred at this thing burrowing around in my head. I try and turn it on the creature.

White-hot pain blooms in my skull. My back arches and my heels dig into the sand as it travels the length of my body. I hear myself whimper and screw my eyes shut.

Behind my eyelids, I see a purple light.

It grows brighter, twinkling and shimmering with growing strength. The pain in my head eases.

Vistlar, Natook, Karta-Vashta, Vostla Sakiiri, Karta-Javoria.

Hello. Someone’s chanting Klingon at me. Great help.

But, strangely enough, it does help and the pain lessens. My body sags.

As the probing tentacles withdraw, the chanting grows distant.

Did I just get help from someone? Crin? Oh God, please Crin, help me.

I lay on the beach, exhausted. A tear escapes the corner of my eye and runs down the side of my face.

“Jelly, are you alright?”

A flurry of sand lands on my face as Agatha falls to her knees beside me. Her face is white.

“What happened? You scared me to death.”

I try to smile, but it’s hard work and I’m running on empty. Strangely, I feel like I’ve been abandoned. The voices, the one voice, where did it go? Why isn’t it here now to help me?

“I’m OK. Help me up.”

I take Agatha’s hand and haul myself onto quivering legs.

“That,” I say in a very small voice that I don’t recognise as my own, “is an experience that I don’t want twice over.”

“What happened?”

I shrug, though my lips tremble and I can’t seem to stop my teeth from chattering.

“Hunter. In my head. Lots of pain.”

“Ah. You’ve got a brain tumour. Now I understand.”

Agatha lets go of my arm and turns on Rhiannon so quickly that I almost lose my balance and fall back onto the sand, which would be a real slapstick comedy gem. I wobble on unsteady legs and try and find sure footing.

Hey, I’m hanging on by a thread here; you have to find a silver lining somewhere.

Agatha doesn’t notice, she’s so angry, which makes me realise just how angry she is.

“Right, Miss ‘look at me, I can wave a ball of coloured tinsel in the air, can I have a gold star and your undying affection?’ -

“Agatha –

“There are more important things in the world than you and your bloody, bloody, pompom brigade, you…you…you…HORRIBLE PERSON!”

“Agatha -

“NO, Jay”. Agatha flicks her hand at Rhiannon. “She shouldn’t be here. She should go.”

“Fine by me!” Rhiannon turns on her heel. I reach for her and almost fall down. Luckily, her reactions are cheerleader-quick and she instinctively moves to hold me up. I use it to my advantage, grab her by the wrist and use her arm to steady myself.

“Rhiannon’s with us for the day”, I say, swaying. “Sorry, Agatha, but it can’t be helped. She’s not going anywhere.”

Agatha scowls at Rhiannon and she scowls right back.

I sigh.

“Let’s get out of here before the Hunter comes back.”

“Fine,” says Agatha.

“Doubly fine,” says Rhiannon.

She yanks her arm from my grip and I fall to the sand. Neither notices as they start a power-walk competition down the beach.

I look up to the sky.

Give me strength.

We walk along the path to Bay’s Head in silence. I can feel the resentment between Agatha and Rhiannon and see the dirty looks. Half way there and the tension becomes too much for my still-fragile state. I have to break it.

I check my phone.

“Once we get to the Head, we’ve got around two hours before we get stranded. In that time, I need to see what I can do. If I can’t develop some skills that can help me dodge the Hunter, or find out who the Hunter is, then dodge him, I’m in big trouble. Suggestions are welcome.” I glance at Rhiannon. “Helpful suggestions are welcome.”

“Well,” Agatha says. “You seem to be able to read thoughts –

“I’m sure that Humphrey’s fine, Ag.”

She blushes. “OK, so you can read thoughts. What about flying?”

Silence.

“Too hard?”

I pull a face. “No, Agatha. Should be a walk in the park. What do you think?”

Agatha reconsiders.

“Telekinesis!” The word bursts from her like an explosion of energy. Rhiannon jumps. I jump higher (see, I’m half way to flying already).

“You have got to be kidding me?”

Agatha shakes her head.

“Oh, sure,” scoffs Rhiannon. “And then maybe she can try shooting lasers from her eyes.”

“Thanks,” I sigh. “That’s a big help.”

“You’re welcome,” Rhiannon says, a huge smile on her face.

Agatha takes me by the hand and drags me towards the Head.

“Let’s get out of sight so we can start.”

“Why?” chirps Rhiannon, who seems to be enjoying herself all of a sudden. “So some passing shopper doesn’t glimpse Jelly running around the beach covered in seaweed, pretending to be an alien? We’re on an island, you defect. Who’s gonna see us?”

“ENOUGH!”

Waves crash along the stretch of land and I close my eyes and take a deep breath. In a quieter, calmer voice, I say,

“Let’s just get there and try and figure this thing out, alright?”

Because any more of this and the alien’s going to lose her temper and seeing how the alien doesn’t know what she’s capable of, that would be bad.

Some of what I was thinking must show on my face because when I open my eyes, Agatha and Rhiannon are walking very quickly towards the island.