The Brentford Chainstore Massacre

31

“No, Cain, no.” Dr Steven Malone stood in his basement laboratory at Kether House. All its horrors had been removed by the police months before, but new horrors now replaced them. “We have been arguing over this for hours. I should not be the one to die. I cannot be the one to die. For what I shall learn will affect all mankind.”

“What will you learn, father?” asked Cain.

“All, Cain, all.”

“No, father, that is the answer you have given before. No man can know all. All can never be known. Only God knows all.”

“I will know more than God,” said Dr Steven Malone. “For I will learn what makes God God. Of what God is composed.”

“And how could you possibly learn this?”

“From the DNA of God. The DNA which is THE BIG IDEA. The first thought. I will possess this and from it I will clone myself.”

“That’s a crock of shit,” said Abel.

“Hold your tongue, boy.”

“Boy? I am now the same age as you.”

“But you can grow no older.”

“This I know. But I do not know how I know this.”

“Because you do not know who you are.”

“Then tell us, father,” said Cain. “Tell us who we are.”

“You are the clones of Jesus Christ.”

“No.” Cain shook his golden head. “This cannot be. This is madness.”

“We should put the bastard out of his misery,” said Abel. “He’s clearly a stone bonker.”

“I am telling you the truth.” Dr Malone thrust his pale white hands into the pockets of his grey tweed trousers. “Cloned from blood taken from the Turin Shroud. I have puzzled long regarding your differences. But then I checked my case notes. You, Abel, the blood from which you were cloned came from scourge marks. While yours, Cain, came from the rib where the spear of Longinus the Centurion pierced you. The Agony of Life and the Ecstasy of Death. But I must take my samples at the next stage. The moment of resurrection.”

Cain stared into the eyes of Dr Steven Malone. “And you do not think that God will strike you dead for this? For surely you seek to commit the ultimate blasphemy.”

“No, Cain, I do not. For God does know all and God exists outside time. God knew, before the dawn of creation, that his son would die upon the cross. So he also knew of the Turin Shroud and of the blood and of twentieth-century science. All this is for a purpose. Ultimately God’s purpose. The difference between myself and others who believe in God is that I deny God’s divinity. I do not believe that God is to be worshipped, I believe that God is THE BIG IDEA. What will come when I clone God is of God’s purpose. I am following his passive will.”

“The man’s a frigging space cadet,” said Abel.

“No,” said Cain, “I don’t think he is.”

Howl, shriek and scream.

Having three lead guitarists who played three different lead guitar solos simultaneously gave the Hollow Chocolate Bunnies a certain edge.

Norman had his earplugs in, so he wasn’t too bothered about edges. He was focused on his rather splendid switchboard. This was covered, as switchboards so often are, with switches. Each of these had a little label above it. On one the words Big Rockets were pencilled, on another Catherine Wheels, on yet another Starfires, and on yet another still, Golden Showers.

Cables led from the switchboard up the scaffolding at the rear of the stage to a gloriously ramshackle framework to which were attached hundreds of Roman candles arranged to spell out WELCOME TO THE YEAR 2000. All at the flick of a switch, of course. Norman did further screwdriver twiddlings, then looked upon all that he had made and found it good. He turned to the groundsman and grinned. “We’re rocking and rolling here,” he said. “Now please take your willy out of my machine.”

“A bull’s heart?” said Clive. “He stuck his willy in a bull’s heart?”

Derek grinned. “That’s what it said in this article I read. He’d wired it up to make it beat. But he’d wired it up to the mains and he was electrocuted to death. When they found him he was fried. Looked like a doner kebab.”

“Or a beefburger,” said Clive. “But I still don’t believe it.”

“It’s true. I read it in Fortean Times”

“Then it must be true. So where is Mr Pooley?”

“Here it comes,” said Fred.

And here Jim came.

Jim had his head down, a flat cap like Fred’s pulled low over his face. He walked in a curious manner as of one tiptoeing along. As of one who is very drunk, doing his best to pretend that he’s sober, perhaps? The Car was parked across the street from Professor Slocombe’s house. Pooley tiptoed up against it and knelt down. The electrically operated window on Fred’s side swished down into the door.

“You’d best get a move on,” said Fred.

Pooley leaned into The Car. “Are you all right, Suzy?” he asked. “Have they done anything to you?”

“I’m fine, Jim. Just get me out of here, please.”

“I love you, Suzy.”

“I love you, Jim.”

Fred pressed the button and the window rose.

“Just do what I told you,” said Fred. “Take the bag into the Professor’s circle. I’ll know if you don’t.”

Professor Slocombe stood within the sacred circle, performing the Ritual of the Star Sapphire.

Bowing to the East, he said, “Pater et Mater unus deusArarita.” To the South, “Mater et Filius unus deusArarita.” To the West, “Filius et Filia unus deusArarita.” To the North, “Filia et Pater unus deusArarita.”

Jim Pooley stumbled across the street towards the Professor’s garden door.

“He’s going for it,” said Derek.

Fred pulled up the aerial on the little black box device and watched the little red blip that was Pooley move across the screen. “He’d better,” said Fred. “Or I’ll blow his frigging hat off.”

“This is going to blow their socks off” Norman flicked the switch labelled Big Rockets and the first of the big rockets shot into the sky. Starbursts and great chrysanthemum flares crackled over Brentford.

“Oooooooooo,” went the stadium crowd. Even above the roar of the Hollow Chocolate Bunnies.

“Oooooooooo,” went Clive, peering out through the tinted windscreen. “Fireworks.”

“There very soon will be,” said Fred.

And not fifty yards away in the basement of Kether House, Dr Steven stood in profile, pointing. “Go Father and Mother one god Ararita. Mother and Son one god Ararita. Son and Daughter one god Ararita. Daughter and Father one god Ararita.^*”

“Into the chamber, Cain,” he said.

Cain glanced at the chamber. It had the look of a large glass shower cubicle. There were two chairs in it. These were bolted to the floor. On one wall of the cubicle was a canister with a tiny stopcock. The canister was marked POISON.

“Death chamber,” said Cain. “You would really kill us, father?”

“I must do what has to be done.”

“I understand. I myself did what had to be done.”

“You? What did you do?”

“I helped a man called Pooley. A man who is in love. I helped him so that something wonderful could happen. Something I could feel in the air.”

“Enough of this nonsense, Cain. Get into the chamber. I order you to do it. Obey my command.”

“You really think we’re going in there?” sneered Abel. “Get real, you twat.”

“You are powerless to resist. I have programmed your minds. Put you into deep trance again and again. I now command you to enter the chamber.”

Cain walked slowly across the basement floor and entered the chamber. Abel twitched and shook, but he too, with faltering steps, followed Cain.

With faltering steps Jim Pooley approached the Professor’s French windows. From within came the sound of the magician’s voice rising higher, calling out the Latin phrases that would herald the new dawn. Bringing the ceremony to its climax. For the most part, though, these were drowned by the screams and whistles and bangs of Norman’s firework display.

Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out the wriggling bag and then he pressed his fingers to the blackly daubed French windows.

“No, Jim.” A hand grasped his wrist.

Jim turned. “John?”

“Don’t do it, Jim. Whatever it is, don’t do it.”

“I have to, John. What are you doing here?”

“I heard about you being thrown from the limo. Suzy’s gone missing. I put two and two together. They’ve got her, haven’t they? They’re blackmailing you to destroy the ceremony.”

“Let me do it my way, John. I have it under control.”

“Oh no you don’t, Jim. A man in love is never in control.”

“I know what I’m doing. Leave it, John.”

“No, Jim. I won’t let you.”

Jim swung round and hit John in the face with something hard. Omally went down and Jim pushed open the French windows.

“He’s going inside,” said Fred, watching Jim’s little blip. “He’s going to do it.”

“And now you are inside,” said Dr Steven Malone. “And now I must do what must be done.”

“Don’t do it, father, please.”

“Have no fear, Cain. You return to God. You become God once more.”

“I have no fear for myself, father, or for Abel. My fear is for you.”

“Waste not your fear then. Because I have none at all.” Dr Steven Malone bolted the chamber door and turned the stopcock on the canister of poison gas.

“Yes!” cried Fred. “He’s entering the circle. He’s entering the circle.”

John Omally lurched into consciousness, clutched at his jaw and shook his head. The French windows were open, and a bright light shone from within. John dragged himself to his feet and fought to enter the Professor’s study, but the light held him back, pushed him away. “Dear God, no,” cried John. “No.”

“Yes,” cried Fred. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Overhead the fireworks exploded, golden showers, starbursts, great flowers of light. Church bells began to ring. Folk prepared for the Auld-Lang-Syning, clutched each other by the hands. Couples in love prepared for the New Year kissing.

“No!” John fought at the light but the light held him back.

“Yes.” Fred’s finger hovered over the deadly red button on the nasty little black box. “And it’s goodnight to you, Mr Pooley,” said Fred.

“Oh no it’s not.” The rear door flew open on Derek’s side. Something hard came in very fast and struck Derek a devastating blow to the face. As Derek fell sideways, Jim leapt in and snatched the Uzi from his hands.

“You?” Fred’s face contorted. “You? How?” He thumbed the button on the box. “Die, you bastard,” he said.

“No.” Jim ripped the flat cap from his head. A bloody gash yawned in his temple. “I cut it out,” said Jim. “No anaesthetic but vodka. I rolled the implant into the Professor’s study. Oh yes, and you can have this back.” He pulled the heaving bag from his pocket and flung it onto Fred’s lap. “Give it back to your guvnor.” Jim levelled the Uzi at Fred. “Get out, Suzy. Hurry now.”

Suzy scrambled over Derek and Jim dragged her from The Car. “Run with me,” he shouted, “and run fast.”

Omally appeared at the Professor’s garden door. “What the…”

“Duck,” shouted Jim as he and Suzy ran by. “Duck, John.”

“All right, I’m ducking.”

“After them! Step on the bloody gas, Clive.”

“Yes, Fred, OK. OK.”

Clive stepped on the gas. Wheels burned rubber. The Car rushed forward.

The explosion drowned out the noise of the fireworks. The rear of The Car lifted into the air. Somersaulted down to the road in flames and sparks and shrapnel. Smoke and debris. Destruction.

And there would have been silence, if it hadn’t been for the fireworks and the ringing bells and the Auld-Lang-Syning. Quite a big silence there would have been.

John Omally’s head appeared through the garden doorway. “What the…” he said once more.

Jim’s face appeared from behind one of the mighty oak trees. Suzy’s also.

“What did you do, Jim?” asked Omally.

“I stuck a bottle of your two-week-old beer under the back wheel when I knelt down to speak to Fred. I kept one in case of emergencies. Two in fact, just to be on the safe side. I told you I had this under control.”

“Well, hats off to Mr Pooley. You’ve certainly saved the day.”

“Aaaararghooowaaghooow!”

Now, that’s a sound you don’t hear every day. Especially on one that’s just been saved.

Jim turned, John turned and Suzy turned also.

The Car turned. The Car was still intact. And The Car turned back onto its wheels.

“Oh shit!” said Jim.

“Did you say run?” asked John.

“No, but I was about to.”

Jim ran and John ran and Suzy ran.

Run, run, run.

And The Car rolled after them, keeping just behind, its engine growling and its horn going BAA-BA-BA-BAAAAA, just like in the movie.