Spy Journal 3.0 Filtering the web for you

Simon waited as the sounds of the doorbell echoed away inside. He could have sworn he could hear voices and assumed that Chris was home. After a couple of minutes had passed he pressed the bell again. The peals of sound mimicking a grandfather clock echoed away again, but no one came to the door. Simon pulled his communicator out and spoke “Chris”. The device dialled the number and gave an engaged signal. Simon pressed his ear to the glass inserts in the front door but could hear no ringing noise. Damn he thought. The TV is going too loud for Chris to hear the doorbell and he is on the phone. He looked around. The driveway led up from the street to the triple garage doors where it opened out into a turning circle. This had a path leading to the front door. The whole area was flanked by low hedges and these were backed by an 8 foot stucco wall with small embrasures containing potted figs. The wall was topped with a short iron railing with spikes. Simon looked around and then decided to head for the back yard. He jumped onto a pot, grabbed the fig’s trunk and walked his feet up the wall. Pushing back on the fig he was able to reach up with one hand and grab the railing at the top. Pulling himself up onto the top of the fence he was able to step carefully over the railing. Dropping his bag to the ground he swung down the wall and then jumped the remaining 3 feet to the ground.

Inside when the doorbell first sounded Chris was out cold. By the time Simon sounded the bell again he was groggily coming to. He had enough wits to lay still however and keep his eyes shut. Peeking through hooded lids he was able to check that he was not restrained and that he was lying in the middle of the room where he had been attacked. He could see the phone over the other side of the kitchen on the floor. Although the case had come open he could see the talk light was still on. He hoped the emergency services had heard the commotion and his cry for help and were despatching the police. Then the doorbell sounded again. Suddenly heavy footsteps sounded behind his head and then thudded down right in front of his face as the intruder stepped over him. They headed down the corridor toward the front entry way. Chris didn’t dare move in case there was someone behind him still but he was able to get a fairly good look at the person heading down the hallway They were wearing a heavy leather jacket and faded jeans. Scruffy work boots on his feet. A balaclava covered his head so Chris couldn’t see the colour of his hair. By the time he thought to look the intruder was out of sight so he didn’t get a look at the colour of his hands. A thought crossed his mind that it was the gardener. There were no further sounds so Chris risked a look over his shoulder. It appeared clear and he rolled carefully into the middle of the kitchen before rising cautiously to his knees. There was no one in sight in the kitchen or family room. His head throbbed where he had been hit. He thought about getting a kitchen knife but didn’t want to risk making a noise with the cutlery so instead he decided to grab the phone and hide somewhere. As he picked up the phone he heard the footsteps coming back. No time to talk he thought and quickly eased the pantry door open. Slipping inside he cautiously pulled the door behind him. The louvered panels on the door allowed him a view downward to the floor of the kitchen but effectively hid him from the view of anyone standing in the kitchen. He heard a curse as the intruder came into sight of where he had been lying and he could see their boots as they stopped. Hoping they wouldn’t open the pantry door Chris looked around frantically in the darkened room to see if he could locate a weapon. A bottle of cooking sherry on the top shelf looked like the best choice. Grasping it by the neck he carefully turned it up without sloshing the contents. Looking out the door he could no longer see the boots. He hadn’t heard them walk off but he was taking no chances. Crouching down he tried to get a better view through the louvred slats but could only see a few feet of kitchen floor tiles. Suddenly he heard a tinny voice. He remembered he was holding the phone and held it to his ear. A voice was talking.

“Is anybody there? We heard a cry for help. Help has been despatched.” The voice repeated the message again. Chris didn’t dare answer and covered the speaker with his hand.

Simon walked across the manicured lawn and through a shrubbery toward the back of the house. As he came round the side of the house he saw the pile of bloody meat lying with the head on top beside the hedge next to the patio. He stopped dead in his tracks. He immediately knew something was wrong and that Chris needed help. He snuck back into the shrubbery and tapped the talk button on his communicator. “Emergency” he whispered. Within seconds he had been connected and was talking to an emergency operator. After telling them the address he noticed a difference in the way they were talking.

“Has something already happened” he asked.

The operator said there was already a call out on that address. After getting the story from Simon the operator instructed him to either stay hidden in the shrubbery or if he could get back over the wall without being seen then to do that and wait down the street for the enforcers to arrive.

Simon agreed before terminating the call but there was no way he was leaving his mate. Cautiously looking back round the side of the house he could see no movement near the patio.

Kat and Robin said their good byes to Lara and Kim and headed for the carpark. Halfway there they were walking toward a small quadrangle when from up ahead round the corner of the building they could hear male voices laughing. The next thing they heard was an Italian voice saying Princess Katarina in a mocking voice. Enough to stop them in their tracks just short of the building’s corner. With bated breath they waited to hear what was next.

“Ice Princess Katarina I should call her” the voice grumbled. I don’t know what it will take to break that barrier. Every advance I make is rebuffed. You would think she couldn’t stand me, yet every now and again I will catch her unawares and she blushes so much you’d think she was sunburnt. Yet next minute she’s aloof and wary as a caged eagle.”

“You should give up mate. There are plenty more single women on this campus, and they are all eager to get the Italian stallion.”

The two girls listened spellbound.

“Maybe, but I set the goal of the hard to get Princess. I get her and the rest of the campus is mine.”

“Well let’s make a bet then. I bet you won’t bed her before the end of this semester.”

“You’re on buddy.”

The sound of skin meeting skin as the two boys clapped hands together sealing their bargain broke the trance the two girls were in. “Quick” whispered Robin, “Come the other way in case they come towards us.” The two girls quickly scampered round the other side of the building and into a little alcove in the side of the building just in time before the two boys came round walking back the way the girls had come from. They didn’t see the two girls pressed against the side of the building and were soon out of sight.

“Oh the pig!” exclaimed Kat.

“How could they?” Robin inquired.

“I am so over him” Kat responded. “I thought he was too smooth to be true.”

“Let’s make his life hell in class then,” Robin said. “He won’t know what hit him.”

“Shall we tell the other girls?”

“It’s a matter of national interest” Robin replied, “We should tell the campus radio reporters!”

“Come on lets go,” Kat said heading off once more toward her car. “Beach here we come!”

The two friends got into the car and Kat let the top down. Her t-shirt was flung into her bag, her sunnies hooked down and a basketball cap placed on her head. Robin followed suit and in a short time the two girls were rolling toward the beach in bikini tops and denim minis with the breeze whipping their sun bleached blond hair around their ears.

“This is the life” Robin called over the wind as she thrust her arms up and out. “Roll on the end of study!”

Kat blipped the convertible’s accelerator as they waited for a traffic light.

The light turned green, she stepped on the gas and off the clutch and with the tyres howling in protest launched the car forward. Shrieking with delight the two girls grinned at each other and called out in unison “To freedom!”

Jord was on a high. His mind was absolutely reeling under the impact of his discovery that he could see. Suddenly the things he had imagined his entire life, his mother Lena, Marick, Arutha, Old Rab and the others were real, visible and all yelling excitedly. Even Old Rab was up of his bench and mumbling vigorously along with the rest.

Jord was not disappointed at the world he saw. Sure it was different from his imagination. The smooth rock was white and the sun glared off it and made his eyes smart. The sun was another thing – squinting he peered up at it and felt the familiar warmth on his face only this time he could see it.

Suddenly his concentration was brought back to the people around him as someone was fingering his jacket.

He looked to see Old Rab standing close to him and peering up at him with rheumy eyes. He opened his mouth to speak and Jord could see the rotten teeth and holes where teeth used to be. A foul odour came out as he talked but Jord was used to that.

“Where did you get this?” Old Rab asked.

Jord cast his mind back to the experience in the sacred stone. “From inside the stone” he replied. “There was a thing in there it talked to me and gave me this and said something.”

Old Rab was joined by Arutha.

“What did he say boy?”

“Um I can’t quite remember. Something about becoming and bringing peace. Oh yes he said “Go now and bring peace to your people.” ”

“What does that mean Arutha?” And what are you doing?”

Jord’s voice rose up into a shriek for suddenly the tribes people had fallen silent as Arutha and Old Rab fell to their knees before him and placed their heads on the ground at Jord’s feet. Suddenly the whole tribe was doing the same.

Jord was frightened by this sudden turn of events and called out, “Please stand up. Someone tell em why you are doing this?” Arutha lifted his torso up straight but remained on his knees. “You Boy are whom the prophets of old spake. You are the Great Leader.”

“The Great Leader? You mean the one in the stories? But how can that be?”

Arutha answered him with a quote that Jord had heard many times before.

The dreamer will arise

The blind shall lead the tribe

The places of power will be restored

The people be multiplied

The coat of grand design

Will be worn with pride

Oppression will be lifted

By his sacrifice

By the time he had reached the second line his voice had been joined by 20 others as the whole tribe spoke in unison the words that each person knew by heart. Jord had learned them as a small boy also.

Jord’s eyes could not stay still. They darted around the place as his mind frantically tried to take in the import of what Arutha was saying.

A movement from the main plaza caught his attention. Whitefaces were coming into the meeting area. There were several of them, dressed alike. They were large and as they came through the entrance way they fanned out in a menacing manner.

Jord cried out “Whitefaces!” As one the people turned and saw the Whitefaces, and suddenly confusion reigned. The ranks of kneeling people suddenly turned into a swarm of activity as they rushed hither and thither, gathering belongings and seeking hiding places.

Arutha grabbed Jord and hustled the boy off behind the sacred stone. “Sit here and keep still” he commanded. Then he stalked haughtily around to the front of the stone and called out to the Whitefaces.

“What do you want with my people?” he called out in their language

The leader of the Whitefaces approached. “Nothing to fear old man” he called back. “What were you doing before we arrived though?”

“None of your business” grunted Arutha. “Tribe business. Speak your piece and be gone then.”

The leader of the Whitefaces said, “We were worried. There were reports of a bright light and an explosion coming from here. We have been sent to check it out.”

“Nothing to see here” Arutha replied indicating with a sweep of his hand the nearly deserted corner of the plaza. The patches of green grass interspersed with small hedges, benches and a couple of water fountains were surrounded by several tall trees and a few clumps of smaller ones. A few tribes folk lingered in small groups talking animatedly together.

“Nothing to see,” he repeated.

“We will need to see some of your people and ask them some questions” the leader continued.

Jord could hear the respect in his voice. After the big fight, Arutha was treated much more carefully by the Whitefaces. Apparently he had won a battle of words at the Whitefaces council and now they were required to direct all contact with the tribe through Arutha.

“They will say the same as I” Arutha responded, “Nothing to see here.”

“Nevertheless,” the leader replied, “we must.”

Arutha dismissed him with a wave of his hand and turned his back on him and walked over to the sacred stone. He called over his shoulder “Do what you must, but no-one goes with you without you first talking to me.”

The leader nodded to his men and they began going from group of people to group of people asking them if they had seen the light or heard the explosion. Everywhere the tribesmen just looked down at the ground and shuffled their feet and shook their heads. If they spoke it was a simple “No.”

Jord was not approached hidden out of sight as he was by the sacred stone.

Chris stumbled from his bed and headed for the shower. The dream was a vivid memory and he wanted to forget it. The water sluicing over his skin helped him fully awake. By the time he had finished his shower he had all but forgotten the dream.

He checked his alarm clock as he got dressed and saw it was nearly lunch time. Chris jumped on the computer and checked his emails and his contacts. Two of his mates were online and he checked in with them to confirm they were coming over after lunch. Both said yes and Barry said that the 4th mate who wasn’t online was already on his way over to pick him up. Simon only lived 2 streets away and said he would be there in 20 minutes.

Chris logged off and headed for the kitchen for a feed. Yanking open the fridge door he swore when he saw it was nearly empty. “Bloody tribes people” he muttered. Why can’t Amy stock the fridge when she’s supposed to? He headed for the pantry and extracted some instant noodles and put them in the microwave to heat. Standing back he gazed idly out the panoramic kitchen window as he waited. The view was of the paved patio area, the hedged grassy area next to the tennis court and the pool. He saw something on the grass and looked more intently. It appeared to be something mowed into the grass, almost like a crop circle pattern. As he looked closer he realised that the grass was actually a different colour in the pattern, darker and glistening.

Forgetting the noodles he stepped out the sliding door onto the patio and then walked around the edge of the hedge to reach the grass. What he saw was enough to instantly bring him to a stop. There right in front of him was a pile of steaming meat, hidden from the kitchen window by the low hedge. It appeared to have been dragged from the centre of the lawn and the pattern now appeared to be a trampled circle with the darkness coming from the blood that gleamed wetly on the grass. Chris looked closer at the pile of meat and then dry retched as he realised it was actually the remains of a freshly killed person, skinned gutted and butchered into large chunks. Recognisable was a forearm with a hand and fingers still intact and centred in the mass was a face covered in hair. Black curly hair. Long black curly hair. “Amy” he hear himself shout, and then he was retching again only this time it was not dry but the remains of his last evening’s meal.

A beeping noise intruded on his awareness and he recognised the sound of the microwave finishing. Frantically looking around he suddenly thought to himself that the attacker may still be here. The blood was still wet after all.

Chris turned and sprinted back into the house. He grabbed the phone from off the wall near the kitchen door and fumbled for the emergency number. It rang, once, twice and then answered. “Emergency Services” a polite voice answered. Before Chris could say anything a strong arm clamped itself around his face and another hand wrenched the phone from his grasp. Chris screamed “Help” and wriggled hard. His attacker thrust his arm into Chris’s mouth in attempt to shut him up while trying to turn the phone off. Chris sunk his teeth into the arm and continued to struggle. His attacker screamed with the pain and gave up and threw the phone across the room where it struck the wall and smashed open.

The assailant used his now free arm to hit Chris on the head in a series of blows that caused the lad to slump to the floor unconscious.

In the middle of this the doorbell rang as Simon arrived.