The Beast of snowMature

“So let me get this straight…” Martian Rockwell, having formerly gone A.W.L. from the marines for his own personal reasons, now found himself driving through the French Alps in a car chauffeured by the prestigious Dr. Kennedy’s own personal escort Mr. Grey, “I’m getting paid to go on holiday to a ski resort?”

 “No Rockwell,” sighed Morgan down the phone as she stood in a car park at a service station, “You’re being paid to go find a man called Tomas Jackson and bring him back.”  

 “Yeah, yeah.” He said, looking down at a photo given to him of three men, all on a night out in a club at the aforementioned ski resort, ‘Jackson’ appeared to be an athletic guy, similar in size and dexterity to Martian only with longer grown out hair, thick stubble and hazel eyes with one brow pierced. With a wide toothy smile the photograph captured him between two other men, one a suave and debonair with a questionable look in his eyes and the other a much more effeminate fellow, with pampered skin and a tanned complexion, all were wearing sponsored shirts and name badges “I still get to go skiing don’t I?” he asked.

 “If you have to chase him down the hills the yes.” said Morgan, “I advise you find this man first and get your job done. I don’t think Dr. Kennedy is paying you for fun alone.”

 “Yeah, I meant to ask you about this, don’t you think it’s a little strange. All this talk about spirits and what not – I mean he seems well meaning, but the guy sounds like a right nut job.”

 “I know what you mean,” said Morgan, I was talking to Charlotte the other day and I think she agrees.”

 “Oh right, where is Miss Bryce now?”

 “Last thing I heard she found Evelyn Greenway and was escorting her back to the estate. I think they’ve just taken a detour to visit Mrs Greenway’s children to tell them whats happening.”

 “Did Charlotte have much trouble convincing this lady?”

 “Apparently not, she seemed terrified though when I first called her?”

 “When you were making poison paella?” Martian recalled.

 “It wasn’t poisoned, just slightly over cooked.” She stated.    

 “Whatever, I’m not trusting you to make food again Miss Leblanc.”

 “Well you can cook for yourself, I’m sure of it.”

 “Right,” he laughed, “Well, I’ll find this bloke for you and bring him back. Where are you off to?”

 “Bristol,” she explained, “I’ve been sent after a woman of vague description.”

 “Well have fun in Bristol. I’m off for some skiing, woo!” he cheered, looking out of the tinted windows at the mountainsides that climbed high over natural altitudinal boundaries, forbidding trees and birds from reaching though never stopping human ingenuity and engineering.   

            The car turned a sharp corner and parked in front of several coaches all frosted and covered in pure snow unlike the darkened slush of urban sooty snow at the sides of the car park. Opening the door Martian climbed out and looked up at a multi-storey flat complex that climbed the hillside and stretched around several skiing tracks, or ‘pistes’ to use the local term. Under the bright dazzle of a mid day sun he made his way through the main foyer and into a small courtyard of shops selling winter clothing, food and snow gear. Flooded with tourists and holiday makers but at least no crying children out of holidays times he was at a loss of where to start looking for this lone man – at least he had a picture, though its validity was up for debate having been plucked from random on the website by the ‘Kennedy Seer’. 

            Martian did up his leather jacket and stood around in the cold bite of the passing winds between the burning heat of the day. There was no happy medium here unless you skied down the hillside with the warmth of the high altitude sun staved off by a cool counter breeze – you can tell what was on his mind as he eyed up the tanned young women carrying skiing gear and snowboards with bright smiles on their faces. Still a little lost, but playing it cool he stood by for a moment in the shade and looked around, the temptation to ski was overwhelming, with a green card – promised to bring wealth to the individual it was with having links directly to the Army of 40’s personal font of money, he had trouble fighting the urge.

 “Sir,” said the chauffeur as he approached Martian in the courtyard, he handed him a set of keys, “This is your room.”

 “I even get a room?” he asked.

 “Dr. Kennedy doesn’t expect you to work none stop. He encourages you to take things in your stride and work at your own pace.”

 “Sweet, really?” Martian thought, running his hand along his sharp jaw, “Aw that guy is a mastermind. Where are you staying?”

 “In the town. Around these young people I feel out of place.” He admitted, “I’ll stay out of your way unless you need me.”

 “Right, well I’ve got your number, I’ll give you a buzz when I need you.” Martian bobbed his head and watched the old fellow leave, “Oh, cheers for bringing me my keys mate.” He added, informally saluting the chauffeur as he left with a smile on a warming red face made ironically by the cold.

 “Right,” thought Martian, looking at the keys, “Time to build me a lair and have a little play. I think I deserve that after a days travelling.”

            No sooner had he opened his door and found the lime green card in his pocket had he dressed in some new stylish snow gear and clothing, charging directly to the card. Having spared no detail or fine accessory at his employers expense he was suited up and raring to go with a pair of skis under one arm and poles held in the other looking as suave and foxy as he could while in front of the women skiers. Just an hour on the slopes he thought, one hour and then he’d put the skis down have some food, a quick kip and them go on the hunt for this Jackson guy. In was only a small resort, and by the accuracy of ‘the seer’ Jackson had been cornered to this one resort rather than any others. 

            Hour number two came up and he found himself at the mid way point between the resort and the mountains peak. It would take a good half hour to reach the bottom of the snowy piste, through forests and hopefully a ski park. There was no rush; the sun was still high in the sky, illuminating the whole valley by ricocheting light from the snow caps.   

            A quarter of an hour later he found himself at the base of the piste by the ski lifts once more. People were still flocking around with snowboards and skis; he’d missed the snow park but none the less made it down in good timing. Another quick shoot down the same track and he might be able to find the park for later reference.

            Twenty minutes later he could be seen vaulting over mounds of snow at a time, carving up the tracks and leaving slower skiers behind. He flew through the air at high speeds surrounded by a haze of crystals that broke the light out in a most fantastic way. Nothing he cared too much about while the feeling of the natural world charging past him was enough to keep him going. He deviated from his former track and found the ski park where a few groups of people showed off what they could do. Needless to say given a few minutes he was off around the park, aiming to show his moves to all those in eyeshot. He performed twists and turns and when the ridges or bars were free he’d vault straight over them and show his snow borne grace able to catch the attention of multiple groups sitting around.    

            In a cloud of snow not quite so brightly lit by twilight setting he settled at the side of the park on what remained of a bench buried in snow. A group of three approached him, two guys with skis and a girl with a snowboard.

 “Those were good moves,” cheered the girl, “How long have you been skiing guy?”

 “A good ten years. Used to go with my father and brothers when I was your age.”

 “What twenty?” she asked with a cheeky smile, “I might be stout but I ain’t that young. How many years have you got on me then?”

 “About seven,” he laughed, “Right, a few year younger than you when I started properly then.”

 “You must have skied loads to get that good,” thought one of the guys with an impressed tone in his airy voice.

 “Yeah well it was my way of relaxing from real life. I love the sport.” He winked to the girl who just stood by with an idle smile, “Well we’d better get running, we’ve got to meet the others for food.”

 “Aye,” nodded one of the guys, “Dinner time!” he sang.

 “You out later guy?” asked the girl looking down at him as she turned her board down slope to follow the others who shot on ahead.

 “I’ve only just got here,” he shrugged, “And I don’t know anyone up here.”

 “Aw, the loner type right?” she smiled, “Well you’re more than welcome to join us. We’re heading for a club called Apokalypse at 1800 if that’s where you’re staying.”

 “The one at the end of the piste?” he asked.

 “Yeah,” she nodded, “It’s near the entrance by the car park. Just in the courtyard you go up some steps; at least I think that’s the right one. I’ve not been there yet.”

 “Cool, well I’ll see you there.” He nodded, offering his gloved hand to shake.

 She took it and shook with a wide smile, “My names Crystal. What’s yours?”

 “Martian,” he nodded, “See you later Crystal.”

            With a giggle and a shrug she turned away and lowered her goggles to chase the other two leaving Martian to watch her glide down the hillside with grace and poise. Contrary to what most would think, a young girl like that was not what he was currently looking for, none the less it could be good to meet some people who’ve been exploring this resort and maybe having a little alcohol fuelled fun at ‘Apokalypse’.  

            A shower and shave later and he settled down in the small lounge room of his single room apartment. Large open windows looked out at a view of the piste now under ploughing and refurbishing by the large machines that smoothed out the kinks left by skiers and boarders. He flicked through a few channels all in French and didn’t understand a single word. Slowly he stretched out and looked around, there was nothing else to do but wait for this club to open. A light snack could keep him entertained for a moment, sitting down with a glass of orange juice he looked at the case file that lay under his jacket on the small wooden table. He flipped it open to the image of Les arcs, the building he arrived at and the mountains around them taken from the webpage, he flipped over to the image of the three men playing up to the camera held to them at the time. The lights were blurred in the back ground with little else there to see. A slight commotion outside drew his attention, in the darkness of late dusk he could see two of the large piste bashers paused on the hillside with two men standing between them shouting to one another over the roar of the engines. Thinking it was just the way he stood up and went to the bathroom to relieve himself before getting changed, unaware of what was happening on the hillside slope.

            In the dusk the two men stood over what looked like a large footprint pressed into the ground. They had no idea what it was or where it came from, and the other tracks appeared to be wiped clear after the machines drove by. With a terrified shiver they both returned to their vehicles and continued on, leaving the large ape like footprint in the snow for someone else to clear away.

 

            At about 10pm Martian headed down to the club near the courtyard. Already dosed with some cheap alcohol he bought on returning to the flat he felt a slight numbing of the fingers and toes, more likely brought on my the cold alpine atmosphere. He stood around in the queue for a short while before spotting one of the three men caught in the photo. The thin effeminate one of the three, standing with two women, all three of them stood around laughing and giggling at one another telling some rather crude jokes.

 “Gays get all the women,” thought Martian as he glanced the other way and saw two of Crystal’s friends join the end of the queue.

            The instantly clocked the man but remained quiet and as unsuspicious as possible until he flagged them down and called them over. One of the pair walked by and stood at the other side of the barrier, “Where’s your friend?” Martian wondered, looking back at the other guy who stood alone.

 “Crystal?” he asked, “I think she went inside with the others, we’re running a little behind. You have a good day on the piste?”

 “Yeah,” he nodded, slowly moving around, “Join the queue,” he winked.

 “What?” the guy asked.

 “Yeah, I’ve been holding this place for you.” He said, trying not to sound too suspicious, “Get your mate over here.”

 “Nah its ok dude,” he laughed, “We’re fine waiting, we’ve got some friends we were going to meet before hand anyways.”

 “Yeah but thanks all the same,” he laughed, “You’re a good guy. See you on the inside maybe,” he said, slapping Martians back as he walked off and left the man standing alone in the queue again, feeling even more out of place now his plan to find someone to join him had failed.

            The club was filled with young people of all ages and nationalities. Martian looked around at all the groups, there were people from schools and universities all making the most of the week long break. He felt somewhat out of place until he spotted a group of older men standing in the shadows – something he then thought to avoid if he wanted to make a good impression on these people. Meandering his way to the bar between crowds of people dressed up in all sorts including ‘heroes’, ‘animals’ and the academic favourite ‘toga’s’ he was only made to feel a little better when he found some humour in some people’s ingenious ideas.    

            Taking a seat at the bar he turned around and plaid it cool, waiting to see if miss Crystal would appear from the crowd and approach him again. A few drinks later and there was still no sign of her, her two friends however showed up and in an inebriated blur of slurs and laughter they put funds together to ‘help’ Martian feel the heat of the night by buying a selection of flavoured alcoholic shots. Having some pity on the two young men he decided to help them and of course spare them the pain they’d feel in the morning. 

 “Aw, that is foul!” cried one of the guys, leaning over and reaching for a drink Martian was sure wasn’t his.

            He laughed and cocked his head back.

 “Are you still looking for Crystal?” asked the other guy.

 The next few sentences were a miss to him, he swung around as one guy cried out “Crystal, Jamie!” at the top of his lungs.

            In the blur of the night, with a fire burning at the back of his throat he’d lost all inhibitions after several unnamed shots he’d trusted the other two to buy. Crystal, rather worse for wear like most of the others hung from Jamie’s shoulders. The influence of alcohol perverted vision and all Martian could distinguish him by was a nose and lip piercing.

 “Your names not ‘Tomas’ is it?” he paused to ask, though Crystal was talking to him directly.

 “Oi!” she cried, nudging his shoulder, “Listen guy.”

 “I’m sorry,” he laughed, “It’s just a simple question.”

 “I’m Jamie,” laughed the other man to the two guys at the bar as he held Crystal up and tried to keep Martian settled.

 “Dam, I’m trying to find a Tomas. I think.” He said to himself.

 “Why?” asked Crystal, “Is he a friend.”

 “No, no –“

 “Oh, you don’t have friends here.” She cried, becoming very sympathetic as she pushed Jamie back and walked toward Martian.

 “Well no,” he laughed as she placed both hands on either cheek and forcibly pressed her lips against his.

 “I think I need water,” she said, leaning away from him with a startled expression, “I’m so sorry.”

 “It’s ok,” he laughed, slowly moving her back, “Get some water why don’t you.”

 Completely stunned Jamie stood by as Martian went his separate way into the crowd to do his job, probably not the best time as he was rather unfocused, but none the less it was still a good time to explore. 

 In a collage of faces and people stumbling over one another he bounced into a pair of women and instantly put his arms over both, “Excuse me ladies I’m trying to find a guy called Tom.”

 “Tom?” one laughed, “What’s his surname babe?” she asked, holding him up.

            On closer inspection she didn’t appear as drunk as he was and was wearing a sort of uniform with a badge.

 “What are you?” he felt the urge to ask, thinking he was pointing to her badge when in fact he was just pointing vaguely at her chest.

 The other smiled and nodded when Martian turned to her and saw the same badge, just a different name, then when he turned back to the first she pointed and jeered at her friend.

 “I’m a rep,” she said, “Are you ok love?”

 “I think I had too much to drink.”

 “You can say that again,” she nodded. “Come on I’ll find you a seat.”

            A light headed stroll came next, veering through the crowds led by this young tanned woman. Images appeared in his head of the young woman he’d seen standing in the queue with the man from the image.

 “Do you know tom?” he asked as she sat him down and gave him a drink.

 “What’s his surname did you say?” she asked.

 “Jackson?” he thought, “Tomas Jackson right?”

 “He’s one of the instructors here,” she said, making him drink some water, “How many shots did you do?”

 “I lost count,” he admitted, looking over her shoulder at the two guys responsible, “It was them!” he cried, calling their attention.

 “There’s no need to yell,” she said, looking back at the two.

 “Are you alright dude?” asked the one, stumbling over.

 “He’s had a bit too much to drink.”

 “Oh yeah, my bad.” Said the one.

 The woman turned and watched a tall broad shouldered man make his way over to her. With a smile and shrug she pulled him close, “Tom here’s another of your idles.”

 He laughed and looked down at Martian who stared up through drunken eyes “I have your picture!” he thought.

 “Right,” Tom turned to the woman who just shrugged.

 “He’s a little worse for wear.”

 “I’m feeling a bit like that too,” he said, covering his mouth before leaning against her.

 “Will you ever be sober?” she cried to him.

 “Go fiend Valery,” he laughed, “Have a good night for once.”

 “If you stopped getting wasted maybe I could,” she joked.

            Tom took a seat next to Martian at the same time the other two guys did. At which point the affects of the last three sambuca’s he’d downed came to mind and subsequently at patchwork of events was left in his memory.

 “What are you looking for?”asked Tom.

 “Tom!” cried Martian, trying to stop him from moving when the other two men in the photo walked past and laughed.

 “Jerry!” yelled one of the guys loudly.

 “I miss that cartoon,” sighed Tom.

 “We’re off to another place,” said Crystal.

 “So soon?” asked Martian.

 “It’s twelve in the night!” she cried in a slur of words.

 “At night you say?” though one of the two, “It’s time we fly!”

 “Fly?” Tom thought, before lifting his clenched fist up, “Let’s fly!”

 “Where to?” asked Martian as he sat up slowly.

 “Somewhere with alcofrol!” yelled Crystal while Jamie just seemed very un-amused.

            The next glimpse of clarity that would stick in his mind was walking from Apokalypse to a mysterious point while he leaned against Tom with the other two guys forming a large moving barricade that threatened to overtake others on the path.

 “So where are you from Mr Tom?” asked Martian.

 “Britain,” he said with a nod, “Northampton.” 

 “That sounds familiar.” Thought Martian, unable to place what building was in Northampton that he’d recently visited.

 “I’ve never met a gay man before.” confessed one of the two guys walking beside Tom as he looked at the Tom.

 “Then it is you who’s been in the closet, my friend.” Said Tom with some form of drunken wit that lit a fuse of laughter between the two while Martian still didn’t quite get it.

 Crystal span around fast, pushing Jamie aside, “Do you have a boyfriend!” she squealed to Tom jumping up and down.

 “Wait,” he paused, “You’re gay?”

 Tom looked down at him, “Have you even been listening to anything we’ve said over the last ten minutes?” Crystal asked.

 “To be honest, no.” he confessed, trying to stand up right and put some distance between himself and Tom, however he was suddenly surrounded and pinned in place by Tom’s two friends and the two female reps.

 “Having a good night?” asked the first, looking down at Martian.

 “I’m not gay,” he insisted.

 “Aw,” sighed the one man caught in the queue with the reps, now linked together with them, “Why not?”

Tom laughed and rolled his eyes, in a bit of a state, Martian tried to focus but remained silent now standing in a crowd he wished he hadn’t gotten into.

 “Hey guy, are you ok?” Crystal asked him as she walked backwards down the pathway below the piste towards another sprawl of buildings including some clubs.

 “I’m,” he stopped, “Just need a moment to get sorted.”

 “I can help you there,” winked the one guy.

 “No,” he cried, “What?”

 “Calm down,” said Crystal, “What’s wrong?”

 “Nothing,” Martian shook his head, completely unnerved and unsure of what to do now.

            With a unimpressed look on her face, the one rep glanced away from Martian to the hillside where many other people were pointing at something climbing the slopes towards the mountain top.

 “What’s that?” she thought.

            Martian was suddenly freed from the tight bounding of the group who all dissipated across the snow staring up at a black spec that climbed the hillside. In that moment Martian looked at the group of strangers and wondered what he was actually doing with them, drunken and confused he turned his back on them while they were distracted and ran back through the darkness to his apartment where his scattered memory collected together and gave him some vague idea of the night before when he woke up with a firry sambuca induced hangover.  

            With a groan he pushed himself up from the pull out bed that was neatly tucked away under two bunk beds. Unable to recall the wisdom that guided him to pulling out the matting beneath the beds, rather than just diving onto the bottom bunk he wandered to the kitchen and saw a phone number written down on a piece of card.

 Picking it up he scratched his head he thought, “When did I get someone’s phone number last night?” before placing it back down next to some washing that needed doing before he left. While making up some cereal he looked at his phone and saw the time, it had just gone mid day and he had three messages from ‘Sexy Leblanc’ as he named her. Taking a seat in the comfortable chairs he glanced outside and watched a rescue helicopter fly by while the slopes were alive with people skiing and snowboarding making the most of the second day of pure sun.

            He took a seat in his underwear only while people walked by outside and jumped in shock to see a half naked man standing by staring out at the piste with no real care. The television flickered on and after a few seconds an image of the mountains came into view from an airborne camera. While he kept eating he stared up at the screen watching the camera follow images of tracks much like those found by the piste bashers the night before. He put the cereal down and thought for a moment, remembering the small blackened dot making its way up the hillside in plane view of hundreds of drunken students ambling from one bar to the next he shook it off as a coincidence until the next shot came up. A recording done by someone’s phone of the same image he remembered from his patchwork vision.    

            The reporter came onto the screen in the courtyard, though she talked in French he managed to pick up the world ‘yeti’ out of the sentences she spoke before the next article came on. He quickly finished his food took a momentary bathroom breath and changed into daytime clothes before leaving to the rest of the resort to find some answers to the news. With his phone in one hand he marched down the slanted hallways of an obscurely built resort, designed to move with the slant of the hillside, and made his way to a small area where there were payphones available.

            He looked over his shoulder and saw one of the two guys from the night before who waved and gave a friendly smile before walking off. No sooner had he recognised who the young man was did a woman answer the phone.

 “Hello?” she asked.

 “Yeah, hi…” he thought, unable to place the voice, “Whose this?”

 “My names Leanna,” she said, “Are you Martian?”

 “Yeah, that’s me.” He said, “Where’s Morgan?”

 “She’s driving at the moment –“ In the background Martian could here Morgan wittering away.

 “She wants to know where you are?”

 “Still in the alps.” He said, “Is everything alright?”

 “Oh yes, we’re just heading for the estate now.”

 “Ask him if he’s found his man.” He heard Morgan cry in the background.

 “She wants to know if –“

 “Yeah I found him,” said Martian.

 “He found him,” she answered, “What do you want me to say?”

 “Ask when they’re coming back?”

 “She wants to know when –“

 “It’s a little more complex that that.” He replied.

 “Why?” Morgan asked, able to hear him when she turned the music down.

            Leanna held the phone to Morgan’s ear and leaned against the glass.

 “I was sort of drunk when I met him.” He said, “Where are you two now?”

 “We’ve just leaving the city. What do you mean you were drunk?”

 “Well I met the guy, and his friends. But I was pissed. Sorry Morgan.”

 “You will be,” she groaned, “I won’t have this job ruined by you; you know I could make a lot from it.”

 “You’ve changed your tone; you were suspicious of this guy the other day.”

 “Well that was then this is now.” She explained, “Just bring that guy back alright?”

 “Yeah there’s something else I want to ask you.”

 “Go on.” She asked.

 “Mind hurrying it up? There are some police men following us and I don’t want to get arrested.” Said Leanna, looking in the rear view mirror.

 “Well, is there such a thing as the French yeti?” he asked.

 “Not as far as I know,” she said with a confused overtone, “There’s the Himalayan yeti.”

 “Yeah, but no French one?” he asked.

 “No,” she said, “I’ve not heard of one anyway. Bare in mind I grew up in England.”

 “Good point, you’re a fraud.” Laughed Martian, “Alright well I’m going to see what happened. Take care sexy,” he said, blowing a kiss down the phone and leaving her gaunt for words.

 “Are you alright?” asked Leanna, looking at Morgan’s face.

 “I hate men,” she groaned.

 

            Martian walked down to the foyer where he found a group of people bound together, amongst them was the rep he met in the night. She glanced over at him, and with no smile or further looks turned away dismissively.

 “Right well, if anyone needs help finding their room let me know.” she said, “Anything feel free to look for any one of us dotted about the place, ya’ll know the drill.” She smiled, waving the new arrivals off.

 “Hey, you!” he cried, leaping clear down a flight of  steps past the arrivals to catch her before she left.

 “What do you want?” she groaned as he forcefully turned her around.

 “I saw you last night right?”

 “Oh I made a good impression on you huh?” she thought.

 “Sorry, do you know where Tom is?”

 “Why would I tell you?” she snuffed, “You seem like an arse.”

 “What?” he asked completely confused.

 “Oh yeah, you didn’t quite keep your whole homophobia quiet did you.” She grunted, “I have no time for jackasses who’re after my friends love.”

 “Wait,” he said, pulling her back form the door, “I’m sorry, I did and said stuff that was stupid, I was drunk – need I go on?”

 “Do you even remember my name?” she asked. 

 “…something’s saying Valery?” 

 “Close but no,” she laughed.

 “Alright, you don’t need to tell me. Do you know what happened last night then?”

 “Last night? You mean when we were out?”

 “The yeti stuff?”

 “Oh that,” she thought, “I don’t know. Some university boozers prank.” She shrugged.

 “Right,” he sighed, “Can you at least tell me where Tom is.”

 “Why?” she asked.

 “I just want to apologise, alright?”

 “I hate being so trusting. I’ll give you his room number okay?” she said, “But if I hear anything bad so help me god I’ll get every instructor and the whole of snow patrol after your ass.”

 “So long as they’re like you and your Valery I’m not complaining.”

 “They’re not, all tasty big men.” She winked.

 “What’s your name again?”

 “Jenny.” She said, “nice to meet you...again” She said with a begrudged expression.

            With her help he made his way to one of the rooms at the furthest end of les arcs resort. He approached the door and paused to think of what he could say to introduce himself this time without coming off as a jerk, as apparently he did so quite triumphantly last night.

 The room was dark and dimly lit by sunlight that phased through closed curtains. Something stirred on the suits as one of two bodies eventually sat up. Tom rubbed his eyes and looked around the room, “Tequilla, it makes me happy – until the morning.” He sung, holding his head. 

            The door opened and Martian stood staring at the half naked man leaning against the wall completely phased.

 “Tom?” he asked, maintaining complete eye contact, too nervous to look anywhere else.

 “I’ll remember your name,” he said, reaching to shake hands, “In a second.”

 Martian stood by, a small smirk built in the corner of his mouth, “Martian?” he thought, slowly nodding his head.

 “Right,” he nodded, “Mind if I come in for a second.”

            Tom looked over his shoulder and watched the other man stir slowly.

 “I think for your sake you’re better off out here.”

 “Arh right,” he thought, cringing in embarrassment, “I’m sorry about last night mate. I’m a dick when I’m drunk.”

 “It’s ok.” Tom laughed, “You didn’t piss me off at all, just Jenny I think.”

 “Really?”

 “She’s really defensive when it comes to our group.” He smiled, “I’m sorry.”

 “No,” stated Martian, looking down at Tom’s brightly coloured boxers before throwing his vision upwards and spinning away, “God, uh, I mean it’s alright. You mind getting dressed? I need to talk to you for a second.”

 He laughed and looked down, then shrugged, “Whatever man, I’ll be right back. One sec.”

 “Right.” He thought, leaving Tomas to go back into the darkness.

            A heavy beating sound emitted from his phone, he picked up and answered to Morgan.

 “Are you on your way back?” she asked.

 “I’ve only just met the guy.” He cried, “Soberly.”

 “How is everything?”

 “Why couldn’t you have done this job?” he asked.

 “What’s wrong?” Morgan asked, walking down the drive while Leanna entered the house to meet Dr. Kennedy.

 “This guys a queer; I don’t know what to say.”

 “Preferably don’t call him that first of all.” said Morgan, “What’s wrong Martian?”

 “I’m not – I’ve no idea how to handle this?”

 “He’s human, talk to him.” Morgan sighed.

 “But what do I say?”

 “You’re right, I should handle this. You’re obviously socially backward. Put him on the phone.” She sighed.

 The door opened again and Martian handed Tom the phone with a smile, “This is my female friend, she wants to chat with you.”

 “Right?” thought Tom, taking the phone, “Hello?”

 “Tomas Jackson?” she asked.

 “Yeah, whose this?”

 “My names Morgana Leblanc. I apologise for my colleague, he has no brains to speak of.”

 Tom laughed and nodded, “It’s ok seriously, no harm done.”

 “I’m glad you see it like that Mr Jackson. Mind if I talk to you for a moment in private possibly?”

 “Well,” he glanced at Martian who stood cross armed admiring the upholster of the halls, “Right ok.”

 “How long is it until you return to Britain Mr. Jackson?”

 “Er, a week I think. Then my seasons done, why?”

 “What have you got planned after that?” she asked, “Out of curiosity.”

 “Well, I was going to move flats; why?”

 “Looking for a job by any chance?”

 “Well, yeah.” He thought, “That too.”

 “Hmm, a loafer I assume. Very well, so you know we have an opportunity for you.”

 “Really?” he asked.

 “The price is negotiable, you’ll be paid depending on the amount of work you do. But you’ll be paid well, health benefits are added of course and you’ll be able to travel all across the world. Sound interesting.”

 “Yeah,” he thought, walking into the kitchen, “What kind of job is it?”

 Morgan sniggered down the phone, “My dear friend, you’ll be quite impressed I assure you. Please tell Mr. Rockwell that you’ll take the job and he’ll give you our contact details for when you return to Britain.”

 “Right,” he thought, “Don’t I need an interview or anything?”

 “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Provided Mr. Rockwell did find the right person.”

 “Ok,” he nodded, opening the door again, “Well, thanks, Morgan.” He thought, handing the phone over quickly.

 “Ok, I found him. Happy?” Martian asked.

 “Ecstatic,” she said with no actual change in her tone, “Now come home.”

 “Home, now?” he asked, “That’s not fair.”

 “There’s a new young lady here, that’ll keep you happy right?” she asked, closing the conversation and turning back to the mansions.

 Martian gawped at the phone, “What a bitch,” he cried.

 “She said, you’d have directions.”

 Martian paused and thought, “Get your phone, I’ll do you one better and give you her number.”

 “You sure?” he asked.

 “She won’t care.” He smiled, “She loves her new job after all.”

 

The End

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