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SNAFU Part 22

by Angharad

This is a work of fiction any resemblance to anyone alive or dead is unintentional.

I checked the coin the next morning, it was there, all gold and shiny. So I hadn’t imagined the experience. What with the strange dreams I’d had of late, it was becoming difficult to tell what was real and what wasn’t.

I didn’t know what to do today, I would tidy through and see to any laundry for my mum, and probably put the dinner on, whatever there was in the fridge would determine that.

I had just put the machine on, when the phone rang. I answered it on the third ring. “Oh good, I thought you may be out.” It was my dad. “I hope you have something reasonable to wear.”

“When and why?” I asked wondering what was coming next.

“We are going out for dinner tonight, courtesy of my publisher. I pointed out how much help you had given me, and he thought it would be appropriate to reward you.”

“But I’m trying to lose weight.”

“So, have salad.”

“Oh alright. I’m sure I’ve got something that will do. Sorry if I sounded ungrateful.” Then thinking for a moment, asked,” Does Mum know about this?”

“Of course, it was she who told me to phone you now, in case you began to defrost something.”

“But why are they taking you out, you haven’t finished the book, have you?” If he had it had been done in double-quick time.

“God no. This is a progress meeting.”

“A what.”
“It’s the polite equivalent of them giving me a boot up the bum for not doing enough. It’s not my fault, I just keep turning up new material. I’ve got some more letters to be scanned when you have time.”

“Sure, Dad, just let me know when.”

“Must go, see you later, about seven, be ready.”

“Yes, Dad.”

I got on with my chores, after checking my wardrobe to see what I had with me. I had a blue dress I could wear, with a black pashmina to keep me warm whilst we travelled to and fro. I decided my black courts and small handbag would complete the outfit. My pearls were in the bank, I suppose I could get them if I really wanted, instead I settled to wear my black obsidian beads and earrings.

I was starting to empty the washer when the phone rang again. This time it was my other parent. “Glad you’re there. Be a love and run the iron over my red dress, will you.”

“Course, anything else?”

“Oh yes, see you at my hairdresser’s at three. I’ve made an appointment for both of us.”

“Fine. Thanks, I was just thinking I could do with a trim.” This wasn’t true, but it sounded good. However, I didn’t think it would be a good idea to ride my bike there, which meant catching a bus into town. It was now eleven, I had better get a move on with the chores.

I did Mum’s dress and got the washing dried on the line, despite it being overcast, the rain held off. I ran the vacuum cleaner around the place and then it was into the shower and into a clean pair of jeans and top to go to the hairdresser.

Stood at the bus stop, the heavens opened. My umbrella kept some of it off me but I was thankful that the bus arrived at the same time as the first clap of thunder sounded. A little shiver ran through me when I recollected the storm in the woods. Was that yesterday, or earlier? I couldn’t quite remember, and I wondered if there were some games being played with me.

Despite the storm, I was able to concentrate on seeing a sun disk above my head. I made it shine around me, casting a protective tube of light all around me. I could almost feel its warmth through my clothes. My mind returned to normal. It was yesterday, and I was sure that the fuzziness I had felt was nothing to do with the elementals in the woodland. They were well and truly impressed, and I believed they had learned accordingly. Just in case I visualised a lion running through the woodland where I had sheltered. I had a vision of the elementals scattering before it, calling they had, “kept their word, so why didn’t I?”

I sent a reply, “Just making sure.” I smiled to myself. “So who is fooling with me?” I wondered to myself. I knew something or somebody was psychically attacking me, but who and why? Harry was a prime candidate, but it didn’t feel like her energy, I’d had a couple of experiences of it, and it was definitely different.

I saw the bus stop just in time, so rapt was I in my musings that I nearly missed it. It was still raining but less so than before. I practically ran all the way to the salon.

“Hello Jamie, how are you?” it was the owner, Doreen.

“A bit wet. Gosh, what a storm.”

“Not as bad as yesterday.”

“I got caught in that one too.”

“Did you manage to shelter?” she asked as she took my coat and brolly.

“I was out on my bike, I got soaked.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’d like to be on a bike in a thunderstorm.”

“I didn’t much like it either,” I added ending that topic of conversation.

“Your mum will be here soon, she told us to start with you.”

“Fine,” I replied.

She began to examine my hair. “It’s grown quite a bit since last time.”

“Yes I know, but you did it so well last time, I wanted to wait until I could see you again.” It was a total porkie but it pleased her, in fact, she got quite flustered and blushed like a schoolgirl.

“I think a small trim just to even it out and sort out any split ends, then how about we put it up with some ringlets around the top?”

“Are we going to have time?”

“Oh yes, shouldn’t take too long. It’s only a set, not a perm. Natasha will do your wash.”

“How are you?” Natasha enquired. “How’s soldiering?”

“I’m a nurse, remember, not a frontline trooper.”

“Didn’t I read something about you in the local paper?”

“What?”

“Yeah, you’ve been awarded a medal for bravery under fire. Rough up in Barbury, is it?”

I felt myself blush, “Can be.” I tried to sound nonchalant.

“I thought it mentioned Iraq.”

“Well, you can’t believe what you read in newspapers.” I tried to dismiss it.

“You saved six people’s lives. You’re a regular heroine.”

I felt so embarrassed. “Four of my colleagues died. D’you mind if we don’t talk about it?”

“Sorry, I just wanted to add my appreciation.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” I felt cross with her, yet at the same time, I half-understood where she was coming from. I understood why celebrities can get a bit iffy with members of the public. Thank goodness, I wasn’t one of those.

She washed my hair in silence, and I felt awful. “How’s your sister?”

“She’s okay, she’s expecting a posting soon.”

“Is it her first one?”

“Yeah, well I hope she gets a quieter one than I did.”

“God yes. I hadn’t thought of that. Sorry, what you said makes more sense now. I am sorry.”

“It’s okay, honestly.”

“What is?” asked Doreen, like some archetypal headmistress.

“It’s nothing,” I said quite firmly, and the subject was dropped. I was led to her station and she began combing, then cutting my hair. She dried it gently, then began to put it up, using a stretchy circular grip thing, she pulled my hair through, then rolled it in fine rollers after liberally damping it with setting gel. Then it was under the drier, and while there my mother arrived.

Natasha offered to do my nails while my curls were cooking, and although I hadn’t especially thought it, I took advantage of her offer, choosing a pale, pearlised violet colour to complement my dress.

It felt quite novel to have painted nails, they don’t go with nursing standards. I kept looking at them, Natasha came up to me. “Are they alright ?”

“Yes, of course, they are. Sorry, but it feels very novel to have them done. Thank you for doing them.”

“I’m glad you like them,” she smiled back at me, and I knew then I was forgiven for my earlier disgruntlement. However, the memories of Iraq came back. I had managed to suppress them for some time, but they were back and I saw the man with four of my bullets in him, falling to the ground as the top of his head exploded with the last shot.

I tried to be in the now, to concentrate on things in the shop or outside. The storm had abated and people were walking past again. I kept trying to stay here, not slipping back. It was so hard, isolated under the drier.

I was so pleased when Doreen came to check me, “You alright love?”

“Yeah, course I am, why?”

“You look a bit peaky, didn’t get a chill yesterday, did you?”

“I hope not, but that’s probably it.” As I said it I saw Natasha looking very guilty and busying herself out of my line of sight.

My hair looked fantastic. It was now quite long, so Doreen had been able to raise it up a couple of inches before it cascaded in curls around my crown. She was pleased with it too.

Mum was knocked out by it, and talked about it all the way home. I had to keep telling her to concentrate on her driving because there was some minor flooding after the storm. We got home, eventually about five, just time to relax with a cuppa for half an hour, before getting ready for this meal.

I kept chattering with my mum, who eventually asked what the problem was. So I told her. She took my hand and simply said, “If you hadn’t done what you did, I wouldn’t be able to see, hear and touch you now. The same goes for the others in your group who survived. Think about that, not the negatives.” It helped a bit.

I went up and washed and dressed. I was very pleased with the way my hair had turned out, my fingers felt quite strange with the coats of nail varnish, they felt thicker than usual. However, the colour blended with my dress very nicely.

I did my makeup carefully. It was an evening out, but I decided I was going to err on the side of understatement, with just a touch of violet eye shadow, blue mascara, and blusher. I decided that my eyebrows could be slightly more defined, so a few strokes of blonde eyebrow crayon and that was enough. Finally, I chose a blueish pink lipstick, a rather pale metallic sort, and I was finished save for some jewellery.

The obsidian and gold necklace and matching drop earrings looked pretty good, so I opted for them as I had originally planned, although I did consider Gran’s sapphire set. In the end, I thought they were probably too much for such an occasion. A gold bracelet and my gold watch with a couple of rings were the completion of my actual dressing, a quick spritz of Coco and I was ready.

During the latter stages of my toilet, I had heard my dad come in. He could dash in shower, shave and dress in about twenty minutes and look dapper. I could probably do the same in an hour if I really rushed. Alternately, when working, I could make it in half an hour, but that was into a uniform with no makeup and hair in a ponytail. I was speeding up all round with regards to making myself presentable, I could do it in an hour now, it used to take me twice that. I’m sure you all know what I mean, and it depends on what one is wearing.

I think I once mentioned that life as a boy in many respects was easier, especially about clothes. Jeans and a jumper. I have spent half a morning looking through my wardrobe, knowing what I didn’t want to wear, but sadly not what I wanted to. That was to go nowhere special, so to go somewhere where an impression is to be made, can be a real torment over what to wear.

I made my way downstairs, walking carefully on my, ‘higher than I usually wear heels’. I carried my pashmina over my arm, my small handbag in my hand. “You look lovely, my darling daughter,” said my father as he pecked me on the cheek. He was dressed smart casual, with his new corduroy jacket, twill trousers and tan shoes. He had on his favourite cream checked shirt with a plain tie which almost matched his jacket in shade.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” I offered back to him, gently adjusting his tie and collar, before realising that this can be seen as sexual foreplay, by some psychologists. Anyway, it didn’t lead to any such thing, both of us would have been suitably horrified by such ideas.

Mum arrived a moment later, resplendent in her red dress with a matching jacket. So after more mutual admiration and compliments, we were off. I suspected that I might well have to drive back, so I took some notice of where we were headed. I was pleased that I recognised the route as far as we had travelled, including the woodland I had recently sheltered in. I had a rough idea of where we were going. Thus far, I could navigate us home, it was one of my cycle routes

.
We went on a few miles further, turning off up a relatively minor country lane which gave way to a large pub car park, the tavern sign saying, “The White Hart,” accompanied with a painting of a deer. It was an old place.

As we pulled up in a parking space, my dad said, “It’s alleged that Browning brought Elizabeth here at least once and that they may have stayed here.” It explained why we were here. It certainly looked the part, stone-built with a red-tiled roof, and small windows.

My only query was, “Didn’t they tend to put old pubs on main coaching roads?”

“Yes that’s true, but the road hereabouts was so narrow, and the local landowner wanted it moved, so they did. The pub survived, but how, is another story. There was a small village until World War II, when a disoriented squadron of American bombers, mistook the lights of some houses for the airfield and landed on top of them. It was a terrible accident in the dark and the mist.

Just imagine having run the gauntlet of the German fighters and flack, the cold and the dark, only to end up dead because your compass wasn’t working and you were unused to flying in fog. Three planes crashed killing about fifteen of the crew. There’s a plaque in the pub, I think, as a memorial to them.”

We stood out in the car park and contemplated just where it had all happened. These days there are trees everywhere, so the landscape appeared to have changed significantly. I certainly didn’t want to tune into it, I’d had enough of death and destruction for one day, with my own recollections.

“If I remember correctly, about fifteen or so years ago, they had a memorial service here to commemorate the crews who died, fifty years before. The survivors of the flight and I presume their ground crews came back for it. It was on the telly, quite moving, as I recollect.”

The evening was growing dusky as we walked across to the pub. It was also growing a little chilly, and I draped my pashmina about me. As we entered, I felt a sharp blast of icy air, I shivered and tried not to show it. My mother felt something too and gave me a knowing look. Dad apparently felt nothing.

It was seven-thirty, we ordered drinks and Dad went off to see where we were seated. A moment later, a very handsome man, elegantly dressed in leather jacket and grey trousers walked in. I supposed he must be about thirty-ish, no older than thirty-three, about six-two and while broad at the shoulders, was slim at the hips. He walked past us, and I had time to think, “nice bum”. He was wearing what looked like expensive shoes, perhaps hand-finished ones. I expected there would be something fast and flashy parked in the car park, Merc or 5 series Beamer, maybe a Jag.

Why was I concerned? So the guy looked like a young George Clooney, that’s why? Whoever he was, he looked well-padded against the chill wind of poverty. It transpired he had gone to the toilets and was on his way back out as my dad came back. “Oliver’s not here yet…”

“Oh yes, he is,” came back a rejoinder in a dark baritone that sent chills down my spine. “Stop it,” I sent thoughts to my treacherous body, “you are spoken for at the moment, so behave.” However, his chocolate brown voice sent goosebumps all about me. I also realised, my knickers felt a bit sticky or damp. My God, no one had had this effect on me before, not even John. What was happening?

“Oliver this is my wife, Anna,” the stranger shook hands with my father, then my mother, murmuring something I didn’t hear. I was transfixed, as if by some spell. Then, suddenly, my reverie was broken by, my father saying, “and the one away with the fairies, is my daughter Jamie. Earth to Jamie, come in Jamie…”

I almost started, as I realised I had drifted into another world, though where I didn’t know. “Enchanted,” said the stranger as he took my lifeless hand and squeezed it. A bolt of energy, ran from him to me and something stirred in my mind, but it was below conscious levels. I had met him before, but where? What was this mysterious energy? “This man is dangerous,” my mind was screaming at me, but I wasn’t listening, he had more sexual energy about him than a bull on Viagra. It was drawing me in, like a moth to the flame.

In my daydream, I was led with the others to our table. The menu was passable rather than inspired. Besides, my mind was on something other than food, I had honestly rarely lusted after someone before, even John, it was a gentle longing, this feeling was like I wanted to rip everything off now and do it on the table. It was weird.
I settled for a fruit juice as my starter, with salmon in watercress sauce as my main course. I decided it was safer not to touch any alcohol tonight, something was playing games with me and I needed to be on my guard.

I sat opposite my mother, she was picking up something I thought, but not as strongly as I was. I kicked her foot and said I needed to go to the ladies, hoping she’d come too. I kicked her foot again and she eventually got the message.

“There is something strange going on,” I said to her in the relative privacy of the ladies.

“What do you mean? It feels fine to me.”

“So why did you jump when we came into this place?”

“I didn’t did I?”

“You did. I felt an icy spot just inside the door.”

“I’m not sure I could define it as clearly as that.”

“This place is definitely haunted.”

“Jamie, your problem is you go looking for it.”

“No, I don’t Mum, it finds me. There is something strange about this Oliver chap too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous and don’t you dare go doing any of your tricks here, talking to dead people or conjuring up lions. Your father needs this book, it will enhance his career, he could possibly get a chair somewhere if it’s as good as I know he wants it to be. So don’t you go spoiling it with any of your nonsense.”

Part of me wanted to be angry, how dare she accuse me of such things. Another part knew exactly what she was on about. Finally, a small part of me thought, “he’s got her already,” so it looked as if it might be up to me to resist this man, beautiful though he might be, there was something far less pretty beneath the façade.

While Mum actually went into the cubicle, I called down protection, visualised my sun disk and covered myself in its light, wrapping myself with impenetrable folds of luminosity. It was my intention to keep them visualised around me all night.

We went back to the table and began our meal. Our host was charming, and I found it very difficult to believe there was anything other than a beautiful man in that body. However, I did stay a little aloof and separate, no matter how much they tried to draw me into the conversation I kept up the remoteness, even ignoring eye signals from my dad calling me to stop it.

I really didn’t know too much of what they were talking, I wasn’t listening and my mind was on keeping my protection going as long as I felt necessary. The main course was okay, and I decided on just a double ice cream for my sweet.
The others were trying to make their minds up over the delicious looking desserts, I’d already decided what I wanted, but was looking at the trolley full of goodies, with its mirrored sides and back. I suddenly realised that I could see both my parents and even myself, but not Oliver.

“Oh shit,” I thought to myself, “if he doesn’t have a reflection then…… Oh shit. Then what the hell is he if he isn’t human? More importantly, what does he want?”

He was telling some story about seeing lions in Africa being killed by hyenas. Which I took as being a warning to me, egocentric I know, but then I had a good record on these things, and I felt sure that I was the target of his real attention, and I was sure it was unpleasant. The problem was that I had no idea how to deal with him. He was a powerful character, that was certain, and the energy he carried was equally strong.

All I could think was, if my girls are not strong enough, then do I need a full ‘Eye of Re’ appearance, and how long would it take me to call it up? That was the question, what the answer was, is another matter.

Part of me wondered if the energy surge was just to unsettle me, to make me think he was stronger than I. If I believed that, then he would be. Was he as tough as my goddess? I could find out the way things were looking. I was not anticipating the ride home, nor the rest of the night. In daylight, I could deal with him and still ride my bike at the same time. He was growing stronger with the darkness, I had to keep my concentration going, all of our lives could depend upon it. He knew I had rumbled him, from the funny looks he kept giving me.

Theoretically, nothing can hurt me unless I allow it to. The problem is keeping up the defences in the face of distractions. In this case, the wall of light with which, I was surrounding myself, was the main defence. As long as I was focused upon it he couldn’t get at me. The problem was my parents were the pawns in this duel. He had no interest in them, to me, they were a major part of my life. They were thus, an area of vulnerability.

Just then I had an idea, I leaned forward to pick up my coffee and pretended to fumble the sugar, knocking the salt over Oliver’s lap. He jumped up howling as if it was boiling water.

He apologised to my parents, saying he thought I had tipped my coffee over him. I apologised profusely to him, while inside smiling and thinking, “Got you, you bastard, whatever you are.”

I excused myself, and instead of going to the ladies, I slipped into the kitchen. The chef was just packing up.

“Sorry Miss, you’re not allowed in here.”

“I need to ask you a great favour?”

“Sorry Miss, you’ll have to leave.”

I pulled out my purse, and extracted a couple of ten pound notes. His attitude changed immediately. It cost me another tenner, but I got what I wanted. I went back to rescue my parents.

About ten minutes later, I managed to get them to leave. It was really difficult as Oliver’s spell was quite poky stuff. As we left, I slipped the bag that awaited me by the door, up under my pashmina. Dad asked me to drive, I was expecting this, and it was what I wanted.

Sure enough, the BMW was there as expected, except it was a 7 series. This could be sticky. We all shook hands, and I got my parents in our car, Oliver was just getting into his when I dashed across and said I needed to thank him properly. He immediately got out, leaving the door open, as I kissed him I sprinkled the chopped garlic and salt all over his seat. Then ran back to our car, and I think I heard him scream but it might have been our tyres as I drove like a maniac out of the car park.

I saw his headlights come after us, as I turned out of the track onto the main road. I hit the junction at sixty hoping nothing was coming, my luck held.

The drive was a nightmare, I knew we didn’t have the speed to outrun our opponent, even though my subterfuge had got us a start. Trying to ignore my parent’s protests as well as drive like a lunatic was even more difficult.

I made a quick right into the woodland, switching off the lights as we entered the gateway. I hoped I had the memory correct, I didn’t need to hit a tree.

I switched off the engine. My father was shaking, I couldn’t see him but I could hear him. He had been ranting for some time. In the loudest voice I could muster, I simply said, “Whatever you think, please trust me, if you don’t we are all going to die. Whatever Oliver is, human is not amongst suitable adjectives to describe it. “

My father was about to say something when he saw the BMW turning back and slowing as it came past the woodland. I put out a call to the elementals to help us hide the car. I felt a canopy of green surround us. I thanked them.

We sat silently in the car, somehow my parents believed me. I think that removed from his energy, they were able to think more objectively, although it was tiring trying to keep up the green canopy while they recovered their wits.

I gave the BMW about ten minutes to leave, then reversed out onto the road without lights and shot off towards home at about sixty miles an hour, getting around a bend before putting the lights on.

I drove like a demon all the way home, praying we weren’t stopped by the police. As we approached our close, I told my father to have his keys ready and get him and Mum into the house as soon as he could, not to stop for anything.

I screamed the car to a halt onto the drive, and my parents for once did as they were told. I bundled them into the house as the BMW came thundering into the road outside.

I half expected it. I stood at the door, then threw a pentagram at him. I heard a scream, a sort of animalistic one rather than human. I slammed the door shut and bolted it, although I knew it wouldn’t keep him out for long.

My parents were stood bug-eyed, as they, at last, began to grasp what was happening. I made up a mixture of salt and hastily chopped garlic and gave them each some. “If he comes near you, throw this in his face and run. It’s me he’s after, I don’t know why. But I need to think of a way of zapping him permanently.” They both nodded, faces shocked and without any noise. “Go upstairs and hide under the bed, and whatever happens, unless the house catches fire, stay there until I come and get you or it goes quiet for some time in which case, don’t bother looking for me, just run.” They nodded, we hugged and my father kissed me, then he hustled my mother upstairs. There was a pounding at the front door. I just wanted to fill my pants, this was as scary as Iraq.

I stood at the foot of the stairs mumbling the Egyptian prayer I had learned a few days earlier. I called down the light of the sun, I called down the light of Re, I called down the power of the Eye of Re, the udjat, the Destroyer. This was life or death stuff, and it was my life that was on the line.

I visualised the goddess Sekhmet overshadowing my body, in a tunnel of brilliant sunlight. I was trying to ignore the front door bursting as its deadlock and reinforced hinges gave under the power of that thing we had met as Oliver.

My concentration had to be complete to do this, and I just managed as the door broke asunder, to feel the energy flow into me as my size increased and I roared.
Anyone seeing me, would not have recognised me as human either, eight feet tall, with the head of a lioness and the disk of the sun above my head, I turned to face my attacker. He was halfway along the hall when he stopped in his tracks. I could feel his energy, trying to enter me and disturb my concentration, but my concentration held.

I beheld him with a glare, and uttering an Egyptian curse upon him I began to power up the sun disk. He began to back off, as I focused the light on him like a giant laser.
He made one last charge at me, and I melted his face, he screamed and ran out of the house. I pursued him, with difficulty having to negotiate a doorway which is only about six foot six in height. He ran to his car, and as he tried to reverse out of the close I fired a bolt of light at him which incinerated him and his car instantly. There was a tremendous bang and a flash, like a lightning bolt. I returned indoors, my work was done.

My father and mother came down with me after I managed to recover from my transformation. We sealed up the door, which had been knocked off its hinges, enough to be able to go to bed. I noticed lights were on in the neighbours' houses but no one ventured outside. I was surprised no one had called the police, but amazingly they hadn’t.

I slept very deeply that night awakening the next morning when my mother brought me a cup of tea. I was still very tired. “What happened last night?” she asked.

“I don’t actually know.” I replied, “Somebody sent something after me. It resembled a human, but I picked up on it immediately, it wasn’t human at all. It broke down the door and ran into a friend of mine who asked it to leave, it did, in a puff of smoke.”

“Your father has been outside, there is nothing to be seen.”

“I didn’t expect there to be.”

“What happened to the car it was driving?”

“It was all an illusion, an energy thing, a sort of thought-form. They can appear quite physical.”

“It looked real enough to me. How did you get rid of it?”

“I didn’t, my friend did. She just shoved some more energy into it and sent it back from whence it came.”

“Just like that?”

“More or less.”

“It could have killed all of us, couldn’t it?”

“It might have tried.”

“Jamie, it could have done.”

“Maybe, but it didn’t.”

“No, not this time. What is all this about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you the chosen one?”

“Mum, you are confusing me with The Matrix, I’m not chosen for anything. So what it was all about I have no idea. I really don’t.”

My father came up soon afterwards, he was dressed as if to go out, but it soon became obvious that he was coming in after being out.

“You going somewhere?” I asked him.

“No, I’ve already been out.”

“Where?”

“To the pub, we went to last night.” He looked troubled. “You won’t believe this, there was nothing there this morning except a small memorial to the US airmen. What the hell happened last night.”

“I’m not sure,” I offered, “in some respects, it was like being in someone’s computer game. It was all illusion.”

“What about the front door and the scratches on my car.”

“Ah…. That part was real.”