Chapter 4 - Life. Strange events.

“Dude”

Startled by the sudden sound, Elliot shot up from his comfortable chair. He had not been feeling well, as he mostly lived on ‘fresh’ food. All the previously fresh food had been slowly deteriorating over the last weeks and he did not want to start on his ever growing stack of canned food, for as long as possible. Now, sadly, most things he had enjoyed eating in his daily life, had hit the point of no return. A terrible stench had slowly been rising over the last few days, engulfing the city in a mantle of abhorrent odor. Elliot had put the leftover deodorants and aftershave to good use, by spraying it everywhere in the near vicinity of his living space, but it did little to mask the fate of previously juicy fruits.

The fact that he just heard a croaked voice, which typically is attributed to being a stereotype of your neigborhood stoner, left him wondering if he had finally gone insane. It only was a matter of time anyway, seeing as though he had been living without any human contact for a whole week now.

Overreacting?

Of course not, he had just heard a voice out of nowhere!

“Dude, I think I’m a magician, man.”

What?

What is actually happening...?

Again, he heard the voice, now mixed with excitement. It spoke about being a magician, so maybe this was someone pranking him? But how was that possible when he clearly heard the voice inside his head and not through his ears?

“Dude, what? Frank could hear me as well? But, he is like, 800 feet away. He’s in a tent, which is, like, far away, dude.

Are you kidding me? Am I hearing some stoner, probably high on all sorts of drugs, talking to me? This is it, goodbye cruel world. There is no turning back for me now. I’ll slowly descent into madness now and soon I’ll be running around naked through town, singing the national anthem.

“Dude, do you think I’m like, a superhero now? Call me, the fantastic magic-man, dude.”

...

“No dude, I just touched the black stone, man. I already had some mushrooms, so I can’t remember what happened, dude.”

What now? He touched one of those black spires? I am either going crazy, or that spire did something to the guy, making him talk to me in my mind. Let’s hope for the best and assume I’m not mental, then that means that the spire gave him some crazy mind-power. The only way to know for sure if that’s the case, I’ll have to go and investigate. Guess it’s time for me to finally move and not sit around all day anymore. I should also probably look for a farm, check if they have some fresh food. There’re loads of sheep and cows in the general direction that spire should be anyway.

“Dude, I don’t feel so good. The trip is getting bad, man. Hold my hand, dude. I’m falling, dude!”

...

After having calmed down, I once again tried to reason with myself, trying to justify what had just occured. The only way that such a thing could be possible, that I can think of, is that this guy had some method of transmitting thoughts through waves and having me translate them back to their message. Like a telephone. Really.

Smirking at such a ridiculous thought, Elliot locked the safe behind him. The first time he had walked into the bank, he was eager to take all the money that had been stashed there, hoping that he would be a millionaire once the world turned back to normal. Sadly, this did not happen. Besides, there was a sincere lack of money there. Some gold, that was probably stored there to have at least something fill up the giant safe, had been put into a corner. He had no idea what to do with the shiny metal, so he just left it there and from that point on, put everything he deemed of value there. The reason he had been able to get into the bank in the first place, was the fact that the lock was electronically sealed, which had given way when the Waves hit. He had set up a new system, to the best of his ability, but he wasn’t very proud of it. A simple chain, held together by a giant steel lock, was not as imposing as an actual massive safedoor. Oh well, he had to make do.

He had one last look at all his collected possesions and, not seeing anything wrong with this situation, thought to himself:

“I reckon that I could fit another chair in there, if I arranged everything differently.”

The subconscious hoarder then left his makeshift treasure cave and jumped on his bicycle, moving towards the general direction he remembered hearing about. It had been shortly in the local news, that a spire had also appeared about twenty miles east, so he just decided to go see for himself.

The trip was, luckily, rather uneventful. Riding through several small towns, he noticed different groups of people, congregating. Obviously, there were the little devils that some people referred to as ‘children’, but he knew better. Nothing is more vicious and merciless than a child that wants something. Seriously chilling, he went out of his way to avoid these monsters. Another, more heartwarming, event was when he rode into a town that he liked to call ‘Seniorville’, because of the massive amount of old people there. Not just a few, no the whole town seemed to consist of the elderly! They were all sat on the townsquare, drinking tea and talking about all sorts of nonesense. A group of younger-looking people, that bore significant similarities to the group of military scouts he had met before, was tirelessly brewing and serving the tea. Met with countless tired expressions, he quickly moved on, before he would be swept up in the assisting of the tyrranical elderly.

As the sky turned dark, he finally arrived at his destination, the town that sported the rather odd name of ‘Perry’. Very tired, he made up his mind to first find shelter, so that he could investigate in the morning. What he had not foreseen, was the fact that the whole town was completely stuffed with people. Not just the normal townspeople were there, but also numerous outsiders, either in tents or makeshift huts. All houses were either occupied by their original owners or filled to the brim with people.

So this is why so many people had left Cambridge. They are all here! A gigantic camp, filled with copious amounts of tents, had been made on the southside of town. The only question that came to mind, seeing all this, was:

“Why are all these people congregating here?”

He now also realised why the voice, he had heard earlier, spoke of tents, this guy was here somewhere! If he couldn’t find a place to sleep, why not just look for the guy now? He must be somewhere in the camp, so the only reasonable plan was to find the tent. Easy. It’s not like there were probably more than a thousand tents there. No problem.

After two hours of searching, Elliot was almost willing to ask directions. Almost.

“I’ve come so far, it’s not necessary to ask someone!”

He reasoned. Then, as a god-like intervention, he heard the voice he would recognise anywhere.

“Dude, I’m like feeling better. Should we take some more, dude?”

The voice came from a tent, not two rows down from where he was currently standing. Naturally, Elliot rushed over in desperation, fearing that the ellusive voice would somehow escape him. Ripping open the flap of the reasonably sized, green tent, he stared inside. Two guys in their twenties were sat across from eachother. One, sleezy-haired with a green shirt and brown cargo shorts. Wearing a cap and with a not well preserved ginger beard, the man on the left was the typical stereotype of a stoner. The man on the right was the exact opposite. With a well groomed, small, black beard and moustache, the man’s face gave of a feeling of serenity. His black hair was neatly stuck backwards and he wore a tight suit on his, seemingly, well-trained body. Elliot could not imagine why such a good-looking black man would be sat in the same tent as someone that looked so lost in his own world.

“I do say, Archibald, it appears as though a ruffian has made his way onto our property.”

What.

I have never heard such a posh voice in my entire life, and I’ve listened to countless speeches of the Queen!

“Dude, I don’t know man. What do you think, dude? Should I use my magic?”

The voice he had heard before and was so characteristic of he only now realised what was truly wrong with this picture. The crazily posh voice originated from the unwashed and scruffy-looking stoner, and the croaky stoner-voice came from the well-dressed man.

“What in the world..”

“Yes, good man. Indeed. How dare you intrude on our private assembly?I do say, how rude. How rude indeed.”

You are kidding me. What is going on?

Feeling slightly elated, Elliot sought for some form of support, as he started to shake.

“Dude, I think he inhaled our Master-Kush, man. See? He’s started tripping already dude. Probably hasn’t had something that sweet, like, ever.”

As the world slowly turned yellow and green, the last thing Elliot saw, was the scruffy man standing over him, shaking his head. His departing words were slightly unsettling.

“I do say, old chap. You have just taken in some Master-Kush, so I fear you will be experiencing some mild form of hallucinattions and possibly some form of paranoia. But do not fret, as we are here to tend to both your mental and physical needs.”

An ominous grin was the last sight he saw, before everything turned black.

*

I'm back! Have been very busy these last few weeks with both exams and realising yet again that America has some deep rooted problems, but now I have returned. I hope you stuck with me, because soon the story will become crazier and more fantastical! Let me know if you have anything worthwhile to say, also if you don't, I don't mind :D