{"id":315,"date":"2020-06-13T12:09:00","date_gmt":"2020-06-13T12:09:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/marksaywriter.com\/?page_id=315"},"modified":"2020-06-13T12:09:00","modified_gmt":"2020-06-13T12:09:00","slug":"the-third-time","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/marksaywriter.com\/index.php\/the-third-time\/","title":{"rendered":"The Third Time"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

1348<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\nsit beside a bare fireplace, staring at the ash, shivering in my clothes, aware\nof the firewood in the corner but unwilling to strike up a flame. I have eaten\nthe day-old bread, stewed cabbage and turnip from my plate, but left the slices\nof pork that my pitying neighbour presented this morning. My soul cannot find\ncomfort or pleasure in this bleakness. It would seem an affront to my wife and\ndaughters, all three taken lifeless and consigned to the plague pit within the\npast two days. There is nothing for me but to sit in wretched solitude and\ncontemplate my loss. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

For an hour, maybe two, I remain in a\nstate of lethargy, waiting for an hour when it would feel right to crawl under\nthe blanket on my bed. But there is a stirring in my stomach, the little food I\nhave eaten in recent days having digested and begun to press upon my bowels. It\nwould cause discomfort during the night, and even in my depression I\u2019m repelled\nat the thought of sleeping in a room with my own stink. It means stepping\noutside and tramping the two hundred feet to the wooden privy upon the edge of\nthe river. As I stand I feel an ache in my knees and hips and a mild dizziness\nthat quickly subsides. I leave the house, pulling my coat against my neck and\nchest, adjusting my eyes to the near dark and scouring the ground ahead for\npotholes and horse mess. I walk, noticing lights in windows, hearing the snort\nof a pig and the wail of a woman in another bereaved home. Nearing the river I\ncatch its breeze in my nostrils, a small relief from the mild stench behind,\nand hear what I think are voices. They cause me to stop and look behind, seeing\nnothing but a trace of smoke from an unseen fire. I pause, wondering if some\nblackguard intends me harm, then continue. I hear the sound again, whispers but\nno words that I can understand, stoop and take a heavy piece of a tree branch\nfrom the ground. I may be miserable but do not wish to be defenceless. A foul\nodour tells me I am close to the privy, finding the ground planks that lead to\nthe edge of the river then the row of three closets suspended above its bank.\nEach is empty, people being reluctant to approach this spot at night, and I\nenter the first to pull down my breeches and spread my buttocks upon the\nopening. The movement comes quickly, the stool is firm and I feel a moment of\nmild relief as I had neglected to grab some straw to wipe myself. Then I hear\nthe whispers again, straighten my back and squeeze the branch in my hand. A\nmoment of silence, another sound and the door swings towards me. I raise the\nbranch, anticipating an attack \u2013 and see nothing but strands of smoke. I stare,\nfor a moment almost laughing at the tricks of the night, but then see the smoke\ncurl and stretch into the form of two bodies. Suddenly I am confronted by fleshless\ndemons, inhuman faces pressed side to side and staring into the privy as my\nbowels release the remnants of the stool. I feel a moment of terror, afraid\nthese creatures wish to drag me to hell, then realise that their gaze has set\nbetween my knees where my tackle hangs loose. I raise the twisted wood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBegone!\u201d I yell. \u201cBack to Satan!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I throw the branch at them. The bodies\ntwist and evaporate, quickly disappearing into the darkness. I look at nothing,\nsuspended between fear and anger, then begin to laugh. The demons were afraid\nof me. If Satan had sent these creatures then there is little to fear. The\nlaughter holds me briefly, then I think of returning to home, bend to pull up\nmy breeches and feel a twinge in my groin. I hold still, move my hand inside\nand feel a lump. Then I look down, realising that the skin has swollen into a\npale ball, one touch indicating the presence puss beneath the flesh. I have a\nbubo. Then I feel the pain at the joints and a fresh sense of lethargy within. The\nplague has claimed me. I take seconds to contemplate the knowledge that I have\nlittle time, maybe a couple of days, and feel a twist of fear. But it subsides;\nI realise that I will soon be reunited with my wife and daughters. I pull up my\nbreeches, step painfully into the night, and make my way home to die.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Recon\n\u01b128.K.147.9QB<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ground\nteams returned from exploration points around Planet \u01b128 with assessments\nconfirming findings of initial sound wave probes. Dominant species has\ndeveloped pre-industrial technologies that show it be on progress towards a significant\ngeneration of quantumonic energy that would make it a useful source for harvest\nin the future. Rudimentary transfer of energy sources, notably heat and some\nliquid, have been developed but so far minimal levels of quantonomic output\nthat could not feasibly be spiralled across galactic expanse to Tanaka and\ncolony planets. Requires further growth. Assessments against historical data on\nother pre-civilisations indicates that generation will reach optimum levels in\nbetween 41 and 107 Tanakan schuz cycles. Within parameters of regular\nreconnaissance vessel departing with recommendation that next expedition investigates\nat 45-50 schuz cycles \u2013 equivalent to approximately 300 lunar cycles of Planet\n\u01b128.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cautionary\nnote. Disabling agent was dispersed across planet in excessive quantities\ncausing widespread terminations among dominant species. This could slow down\ndevelopment of technologies and subsequent generation of quantonomic, so advise\nlower density of dispersal next time.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

1665<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\ncurse the King. Dusk is falling as the boat reaches the outskirts of London, and\nI silently growl at the knowledge that he remains in the safety of his castle\nat Windsor while I am assigned to penetrate the plague-ridden city in search of\nhis floozy. As if she will appreciate the gesture. No doubt she was distraught\nat being left behind when he fled, not given a discreet place within one of the\nrear carriages but left to fester in the house by the Fleet. Maybe she thought herself\nfirst or second among his trollops, when in fact she would be fourth of fifth.\nI anticipate tears, pleading and a foul tongue when I find her \u2013 if she is\nalive. But His Majesty wishes me to present her with a silk scarf and a velvet\npurse of silver coins, \u2018reminding her of the King\u2019s affection\u2019 as he said to me;\n\u2018ensuring that she does not sell herself to another man\u2019 as I understood. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The boat reaches the banks of Blackfriars\nand turns towards the jetty at the point where the Fleet streams into the Thames.\nAs it docks I tell the boatman to stay still, that I intend to return within\nthe half hour, and gesture to my guard to follow. We go ashore and move quickly\nthrough narrow streets, avoiding the mess of horses and dogs on the cobbles and\nclosing our ears to quiet cries of grief. We are in a street of modest houses\nand I search for a carving of a rose above each of the doors, finding it at the\nfourth and knowing I have reached her dwelling. I instruct the guard to stand\nback, confident that his armour and pike would deter any blackguards, and knock\non the door. There is no answer but it is unlocked, so I step inside, adjusting\nmy eyes to the dark of the hallway, eased only by a dull light from within\nanother room. I had expected to find a maid but there is none in sight, and I\nhear a pained moan from within the lit room. It picks at a trepidation within\nme, but I know that I cannot return to the King without having set eyes upon\nthe woman, so I move forward and push at the half open door. I can see nothing,\nbut hear another moan from a hidden corner, take a further step and feel my\nfoot clutter an object. A stench hits my nose and I realise I have stumbled on\nan awkwardly placed piss pot. I turn towards the corner and see a female figure\non the bed, a skirt ruffled at its waist and bare legs splayed into a state of\nindecency. I stare at the woman and speak quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou are Elizabeth?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She shivers and raises her head, staring\nback at me through bleary eyes then squirming in the manner of leg cramps. I\ncurse, realising that I am in the presence of one who has been infected, decide\nthat I will perform the minimum requirement of my duty and take the purse and\nscarf from inside by waistcoat. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI come from the King. He wishes me to\nconvey his affections and present you with these.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I glance around the room and see a stool\nin a corner, a few feet and hopefully far enough from the woman to be beyond\ninfection, and move carefully to place the scarf and purse upon it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis will make you comfortable until the\nKing returns to London.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I am angry at my own words but know there\nis nothing I can to do to provide genuine comfort. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs there anyone else within this house?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She pushes herself up to rest upon a\ncrooked arm, moans and shakes her head. I wonder if I should look for a priest,\nthen recall the reports that they have ceased to visit the dying. She coughs\ninto her chest, wriggles on the bed but seems too weak to stand. I wait for a\nmoment, listening for the sound of another in the house and hearing nothing.\nHer eyes meet mine. I hope they show pity but my intent is unyielding, that I\nwill leave her to die. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

One step backwards, a turn towards the\ndoor and my foot knocks the edge of the piss pot. Its stink tickles my nose,\nthen I see twisting lines of white smoke creep around the edge of the door. For\na moment I wait with a vague expectation of a man with a pipe; but then the\nlines stretch downwards and take on a shimmering form. An approximation of two\nlarge eyes set themselves on mine and for a moment I feel an intense fear. The\nfigure remains on its spot but its contours ripple and a protrusion emerges\ninto the shape of an arm, then another, then another. I gasp, stagger, try to\nback away but realise I am trapped in the room, the apparition blocking my\nescape. My eyes shoot to every corner then down and I see the pot at my feet.\nQuickly I bend forward and in a single movement take it in one hand and throw\nthe piss into the figure\u2019s face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBack to hell with you!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There is a moment in which the figure just\nstares at me, then its smoky outline collapses and flies out of the door. Good\nGod! The piss scared it away! I stand shaking, bemused at what I have done,\nunsure if it there is another horror beyond the door. Then I feel a hand on my\nshoulder and breath upon my neck. I turn and see the woman\u2019s plague drawn face\nalmost pressing against mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease!\u201d She tries to grab the collar of\nmy waistcoat. \u201cTake me with you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then she coughs and I feel the horrific touch\nof her spittle upon my face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAway from me!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I slap her so she falls and rolls away\ntowards the bed. I do not wait to see her face again but leave the room,\noblivious to whether the apparition has remained, then stumble into the street.\nThe guard is waiting. He sees my alarm and I force myself to stand straight and\nsearch for authority in my stutter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt-it\u2019s done!\u201d I say. \u201cN-now we can go!\nIm-m-mediately.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a moment he stares. I fear that if he\nguesses that I had been so close to a plague victim he will desert me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome!\u201d I say. \u201cThe King\u2019s business is\ndone!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stride past him, quickly back towards\nthe river, and hear his footsteps behind me. My heart beats wildly, assaulted\nby two horrors only one of which I understand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Recon\n\u01b128.T.190.4DB<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Assessment\nof Planet \u01b128 has been disappointing, with quantunomic generation well below\nlevel anticipated by previous reconnaissance. Possibility that excessive use of\ndisabling agent at that time caused depletion of major species to the extent\nthat slowed development. Energy sources here still pre-industrial,\npredominantly heat and liquid, and still unfeasible for spiral transmission to\nTanaka. Suggest further reconnaissance on similar schedule: approximately 45\nTankan schuz cycles or 300 lunar cycles of planet. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Also\nsuggest that use of disabling agent unnecessary next time. Ground party has\nmastered techniques of controlling constituent elements so that dominant\nspecies can rarely perceive our presence \u2013 in such small numbers that they\ncannot process \u2013 and fleet guidelines indicate it is better not to deplete\nspecies and thereby maintain maximum quantumonic generation. Hopefully next mission\nwill discover conditions right for feasible transmission.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

2020<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

So\nI go to the spot by the bushes alongside the foot tunnel, where there\u2019s a bit\nof light so I can see what I\u2019m doing but not enough for people to see me easy\nunless they\u2019re looking. Someone\u2019s dumped one of them masks so it dangles on a\nbranch and whatever shit has come out of the nose can float into the air. I\nthink about chucking it deeper into the bush but realises that means touching\nand God knows what type of shit will get on my fingers, and they\u2019s going near\nmy mouth with what I\u2019m going to do. So I just shift myself a little so I can\u2019t\nsee it, cough a couple of times, then take the plastic bag from my pocket. More\nthan double the usual price and Melvyn talked like he was doing me a bleeding\nfavour to sell it at that, giving all that talk about how it\u2019s got ten times\nharder to get since the lockdown started and there are laws of supply and\ndemand and he don\u2019t care that I haven\u2019t had a smoke for over a week. Fuck him!\nI\u2019ll find someone else next time. So I take some of the weed from the bag \u2013 not\nas much as usual as I\u2019ve got to make this last and I\u2019m not sharing \u2013 and roll\nit into the paper, lick and press it down. It looks a bit pathetic, but Melvn\npromised it\u2019s primo, none of your cabbage or rope, and it would take my head\nwherever I wanted it to go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTrust me man, you\u2019ll forget about this\ncoronafuckup for a good few hours.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yeah, that\u2019s what I want, something strong\nenough to take my mind off being lockdowned with my mum and sisters and all the\nshouting and squealing when we haven\u2019t even got decent Wi-Fi in the flat. I\ncough again and pull out my lighter, put the flame to the spliff and take the\nfirst drag. Ten seconds later I know that Melvyn was telling the truth, it\u2019s\nproper primo and the shit falls out of my head and suddenly I feel good. That\nis the business. I roll the spliff between my fingers, know there\u2019s only a few\ndrags in it but reckon that\u2019ll be enough. I don\u2019t want to get so out of it that\nI can\u2019t find my way home easy. I shuffle into the corner of the bush where I\ncan lean against the concrete corner of the tunnel and relax. Yeah, just let\nthat nice feeling roll around my head and forget about all this lockdown\nbollocks for a couple of hours. I can think of a couple of the crew who\u2019d be\nseriously pissed off that I didn\u2019t make a phone call to share, but as things\nstand anyone not buying ain\u2019t sharing. It needs another cough before the next\ndrag but that goes easy and I soothe a little more, not worrying about anything\nand smiling at those funny whispers in my head. There\u2019s some lines of smoke in\nfront of me, and I think they\u2019re from the spliff even though I\u2019ve never seen\nthem like that before, and I look down and laugh a little without really\nknowing why. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My eyes are closed for a bit and I take\nanother drag before opening them and see something standing in front of me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat the fuck!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don\u2019t what they is but they ain\u2019t\npeople, just lines of smoke in a shape that makes a body and loads of arms and\na mouth and big eyes that are staring right at me. I don\u2019t move and they don\u2019t\nmove but the way they look tells me that they ain\u2019t seen anything like me\nbefore either. I realise I\u2019m shaking and not knowing if I should run, or fight,\nor \u2026.. Now I see one of them is looking down towards my hand with the spliff in\nit, and I wonder if that\u2019s why they\u2019ve come looking here, then what is all this\nshit in my head? But maybe? I raise my hand with the spliff, reckoning they\nmight take it as a sign of peace, and for a moment one of half a dozen hands\nstretches towards it. Then my throat catches and I splurt a big angry cough,\nthen another and another, right into the faces and their eyes get bigger and\ntheir mouths twist and they back off. For a second they go all shimmery then\nthe lines of smoke start swirling and fly away and they\u2019re gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShiiiit!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ve dropped the spliff, scared silly and\nthinking what\u2019s that bloody weed done to my head. That wasn\u2019t primo and it\nwasn\u2019t cabbage or rope, but some evil shit that twists your head into knots\nthen splices into some crazy CGI effect. I pick up the spliff, hold it close to\nmy nose but I\u2019m too scared to breathe it in. Yeah I watch that special effects\nstuff in movies but I don\u2019t want it in my head. So I shuffle along the path to\nthe nearest drain and \u2013 this is crazy \u2013 drop the spliff through the grill. Then\nI take the bag from my pocket, open it up and tip the rest of the weed after\nit. For a moment I think about how much money I\u2019ve just chucked down the drain\n\u2013 like, literally \u2013 but think fuck it who needs all that in their head?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a moment I look around, wondering if\nthem smoke creatures are just down the path, and realise I don\u2019t even know\nwhich way they\u2019ve gone. Then I think I just want to get home and start walking,\nand decide maybe this has been some weird warning. I ain\u2019t doing this stuff no\nmore! <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Recon\n\u01b128.\u00a5.242.7CX<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Terminal\nlog entry. Mission abort. Risk factor of Planet \u01b128 has risen exponentially\nsince last recon. Ground party was able to report previously undetected viral\npresence gestating within host species. Little evidence of its nature but any\ncontact inflicts rapid infection of our internal matter, compounded by\ndematerialisation for swift movement. This was detected only when ground party\nsynchronised at landing point, leading to high speed transmission among its\nmembers. Most lost life agents and dematerialised on the planet surface. A few\nwere able to transition back to vessel, but efforts to regenerate affected\nmatter were unsuccessful and quickly infected other members of crew. Most have\nnow dematerialised. Only three of us remain alive and all have shown early\nsigns of internal dematerialisation. We have little time left.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In\naccordance with protocol we are directing the vessel away from this solar\nsystem and into dark space, with a programme to close all systems then compress\nitself minimum dimensions.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advise\nno further reconnaissance of Planet \u01b128; virus within resident species makes it\ninherently toxic. Excessive risk factor in any further efforts to extract its\nquantumonics.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s it. We\u2019re dying and the ship will be turned into space junk. Stay away from that planet!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Image by Centophobia, <\/strong>CC BY 2.0<\/strong><\/a><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

1348 I sit beside a bare fireplace, staring at the ash, shivering in my clothes, aware of the firewood in the corner but unwilling to strike up a flame. I have eaten the day-old bread, stewed cabbage and turnip from my plate, but left the slices of pork that my pitying neighbour presented this morning. … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-315","page","type-page","status-publish"],"yoast_head":"\nThe Third Time - MARK SAY<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"The Third Time - Short story: plague, pandemic and aliens\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/marksaywriter.com\/index.php\/the-third-time\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_GB\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"The Third Time - MARK SAY\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"The Third Time - 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