Web Site Story (12 page)

Bob thought of Periwig Tombs. Perhaps his head had just kept on growing along with his body.

'Are you all right, Bobby?' asked Phyllis again.

'You smell of wee wee,' said Small Bob. 'And your head is too big and I'm sick of this world and I want to go back to my own and… oh… ouch!'

Phyllis Livingstone kicked him. And she kicked him very hard.

And then, with tears in her little dark eyes, she turned and ran away.

Small Bob wept a bit more and then he dragged himself to his feet. He really had had enough. He ached all over. He was sore and he was angry. He wanted to go home. No, he
didn't
want to go home. He just wanted out. Out of this and back to his real self.

He shuffled to the playground and pressed his face against the wire fence. The children, happy, laughing, played upon the swings and on the climbing frame. A fat boy named Neville sat in one of the swingboats. Ann Green, little yellow-haired girl, pushed the swingboat forward. Up and back, she caught the swingboat, pushed it forward, up and back.

Small Bob watched her. He felt listless, hopeless, angry, wretched.

Up the swingboat went, forward up, then down and back again.

'There must be something,' said Small Bob bitterly under his breath. 'Something that will let me out of here. How didst it go in that damn programme
Quantum
Leap?
The hero had to change something. Save someone. Put something right. That's how it worked. And then he was free. Well, free to leap somewhere else, into some other time the next week. But that was how it worked.'

Small Bob watched Ann Green pushing the swing-boat.

Forward, up, then down and back again.

'Look at her,' said Bob to himself. 'Silly little girl, pushing that swingboat. She doesn't know. Alvy will end up in prison and she'll end up dead from that swing-boat. And she doesn't know…'

'Oh.' Small Bob's jaw dropped open.
Quantum Leap.
Saving someone. That was how it worked. Ann Green would die, hit in the throat by that swingboat. And only he, Big Bob,
Small
Bob knew that it would happen.

'Thou brain-dead buffoonican!' Small Bob shouted at himself. 'That's the answer.'

Up went the swingboat, up and forward, down and back. Up and forward, down and back and up and forward and…

'Ann!' shouted Bob. 'Ann, get away from the swing-boat.'

'What?' The little girl caught at the polished metal as the swingboat swung towards her once again. Caught the metal bar and pushed it forward.

'Ann, get away. Get away Ann. Please do it.'

'Who's calling me?' The little girl turned her head. 'Who's calling me?'

Small Bob saw the swingboat coming down.

'Ann!' he shouted. 'Duck! Duck!'

The little girl's mouth was open. Wet, with orange-juice stains at the corners. Her eyes were blue. Her hair a yellow swag.

'No!' cried Bob.

The swingboat sailing down caught the little girl in the throat. It knocked her backwards, sent her staggering, but she didn't fall.

Bob saw the face. The eyes. The mouth. The golden hair. He saw her expression. Puzzled.

Up went the swingboat, forward, up then back and down again.

As Small Bob watched, it hit her in the forehead.

Blood upon yellow hair, the blue eyes staring.

Ann Green toppled sideways and lay dead.

Crackle and thump, "went the paddles.

Big Bob's body jumped and shook.

'Any heartbeat?' asked the ambulance man.

There was a pause.

'No, give him another jolt.'

Crackle and thump and his body shook again.

'Any now?'

'No, do it once more, then we quit.'

And crackle and thump once again.

'Has he gone?'

'No. He's beating again. He's alive.'

'Well, he wasn't.'

'Well, he is alive now, let's get him onto the stretcher.'

Big Bob mumbled and grumbled and moaned.

'What is he saying? He's saying something.'

'He's saying "No, no Ann, no".'

'Who's Ann, his wife?'

'Who knows, get him onto the stretcher.'

The ambulance man and the woman driver struggled to move Big Bob. He was a big fellow and heavy with it, he really took some shifting.

'Ooooh,' mumbled Big Bob. 'Ann I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kill you.'

'God's golf balls,' said the ambulance man, struggling some more and getting one of Bob's legs onto the stretcher. 'He's killed somebody.'

'It's not our business,' said the ambulance woman. 'Our business is to get him to hospital. His nose is broken, he's covered in lacerations and look at his left foot. That big toe's fractured, best mention that to the medics or they're bound to miss it.'

The ambulance man got Bob's other leg onto the stretcher. 'Yes, but if he's murdered someone.'

'Not our business, tell one of the policemen. If you can find one who's still standing up.'

'Madness,' said the ambulance man. 'Are you going to haul out the cafe proprietor? I think the men from FART zapped him with some of that new Mute Corp nerve gas.'

'Then I'm not going in without a biohazard suit. Let's get this one into the ambulance. Then I'm calling it a day.'

It was certainly a struggle, but they finally got Big Bob on board. The ambulance, bells all ringing and hooter hooting too, swung away from the crash site. Leaving the tour bus imbedded in the front wall of the Plume Cafe, the assorted walking wounded, walking wound-edly, the Fire Arms Response Team, who were gung-hoing it with the singing of filthy songs, opening up cans of beer they had liberated from the fridge of the banjoed cafe, and the blond-haired beauty in the turquoise dress with the good-looking dark-haired young man, looking on.

The ambulance did roarings up the High Street. Strapped onto the stretcher, Big Bob's head slapped from side to side and up and down as the ambulance took corners at speed and bounced over numerous speed ramps.

'Ann,' mumbled Big Bob. 'I'm sorry I killed you. I didn't mean it to happen.'

'He's saying that stuff about murder again,' called the ambulance man to the driver. 'We've got a psycho here, you should call it into the station.'

'It isn't our business. It's nothing to do with us.'

'Look, he's alive and he's pretty much conscious and he's only got a broken nose and a twisted toe. We could drop him off at the police station. Let them sort it out.'

The ambulance driver stood on the brake. The ambulance man hurtled forward and so did Big Bob's stretcher. Big Bob's head struck the rear of the driver's cab.

'Is he unconscious now?' the driver called back.

The ambulance man examined Big Bob. 'Out for the count I think,' said he.

'Then he's going to the cottage hospital, he might have concussion.'

'I wouldn't be at all surprised,' said the ambulance man.

There are speed ramps as you enter the cottage hospital grounds, but if you drive slowly and carefully you hardly notice them. The ambulance passed over them at speed, bouncing Big Bob's body in the air.

'You want to drive more carefully,' said the ambulance man.

'You want to shut your face,' said the ambulance driver.

'Oh yeah, right. You're never -wrong, are you?'

'Of course I'm never wrong.' The ambulance driver stood on the brake once more and the ambulance man tumbled forward once more and Big Bob's head hit the rear of the driver's cab once more, once more, once more.

'Home again, home again, jiggedy jig,' said the ambulance driver.

It was a bit of a struggle getting Big Bob out of the ambulance. The stretcher he was attached to seemed to have become somewhat twisted during the journey and the drop-down wheels didn't drop down properly. Big Bob slid from the end of the stretcher and fell onto the tarmac right upon his head.

'And I suppose you'd like to blame me for
that
!' said the ambulance driver.

'Who,
me
?’ said the ambulance man.

They finally got the drop-down wheels dropped down and they finally got Big Bob back onto the stretcher. Then they did that comedy wheeling the patient through all those double hospital swing doors routine, where the patient's head goes bang bang bang against them.

'Do you remember the time', said the ambulance man, as Big Bob's head opened the doors into casualty, 'when you were put in charge of organizing the hospital dance?'

'Of course,' said the ambulance driver. 'The Sixties Hop, and what a success that was.' Big Bob's head opened the doors into the main corridor.

'Oh yeah, right,' said the ambulance man. 'And you booked "name" bands. Chas 'n' Dave, Peters and Lee, Sam and Dave and Peter and Gordon.'

'And?' said the ambulance driver. Bang went Big Bob's head.

'And you gave them all separate changing rooms and then you forgot who was in each one and got them all mixed up. How well I remember Dave and Dave singing on stage. And Peters and Peter, not to mention Gordon and Lee.'

'Gordon and Lee?'

'I told you not to mention them.'

Bang went Big Bob's head. And 'That is quite enough,' said he.

'Eh?' went the ambulance man.

'What?' said the ambulance driver.

Big Bob said, 'Stop and let me off this stretcher.'

'That was a bit unexpected,' said the ambulance man.

Td been expecting it,' said the ambulance driver.

'Let me
off\'
Big Bob struggled and being Big Bob and so very Big and all, he burst open the straps that constrained him and leapt down from the trolley.

'Ouch,' he went, hopping on his big right foot.

'Fractured left big toe,' said the ambulance man. 'You should have that put in a sling.'

'Prat,' said the ambulance driver. 'You mean splint.'

'I said splint.'

'No, you said sling.'

Big Bob hopped about some more. 'Shut up!' he shouted. 'Thou blathering ninnies.'

'There's gratitude for you,' said the ambulance driver.

'Best leave it,' whispered the ambulance man. 'Remember he's a psycho!'

'I'm not a psycho!'
roared Big Bob, in a very big voice indeed. 'And I am not here. I know I'm not here. This is all a deception. Someone trickest me. I won't be manipulated any more. Yea and verily, I shan't.'

'Anything you say, big fella,' said the ambulance man. 'We'll just pop off for a cup of tea and leave you to it then.'

'Grrrrr,' went Big Bob, which was new.

The ambulance man and the ambulance woman rapidly took their leave. Big Bob stood alone in the corridor breathing hard and knotting massive fists.

'Speak to me,' he shouted. 'I know thou art there. Speak to me.'

'you failed level one,' said the large and terrible voice. 'you were supposed to save the little girl.'

'I tried.' Big Bob shook and great big veins stood out upon his neck. 'I tried to save her. But that was a trick. That wasn't real. That wasn't how it happened.'

'yes it was,' said the large and terrible voice. 'we're inside your head. we have your memories. we know what makes you tick.'

'Who art thou?' Big Bob shook his fists. 'Show thyself to me.'

'you have lost one life.' The voice pressed hard upon Big Bob's ears. 'you only have two more, then you lose the game.'

'I will beat thee,' shouted Big Bob. 'Thou foul and filthy fiend.'

'we cannot be beaten,' said the voice.

'I will beat thee,' said Big Bob, through gritted grinding teeth. 'I will play thy games and I will beat thee. I ask only this. Tell me who or what thou art.'

Silence pressed about Big Bob.

'Come on,' called the big one. 'I'll play thy evil games. And if thou canst not be beaten, what harm can it do to tell me who thou art?'

Silence pressed again.

'Come on,' called Big Bob once more. 'What are you scared of? Thou hidest from me. I cannot put my fingers about thy throat. Speak unto me. Tell me who thou art.'

'no,' said the voice. 'you will never know.'

'Then I quit thy game,' said Big Bob. 'Do what thou wilt with me. I will play no more.'

'ten seconds,' said the voice. 'nine… eight… seven.'

'Stuff thou!' said Big Bob, raising two fingers.

'six… five… four.'

'no.' It was the second voice. 'what harm would it do to tell him?'

'no harm at all,' said the first voice. 'but we make the rules, not him.'

'but he's an entertaining player. we piled enough psychological pressure on him to make him hate all his kind. but still he tried to save the little girl.'

'he thought he was in a tv programme.'

'he did it because he cared.'

'Of course I cared,' said Big Bob. 'Although you're right about
Quantum Leap.'

'i have a suggestion,' said the second voice. 'put him into the original scenario. that will explain to him what we are.'

'but he has no memories of this. he wasn't there.'

'download those of mute's assistant.’

‘Mute?' said Big Bob. 'Who art this Mute?’

‘perfect,' said the second voice. 'he's never even heard of remington mute.'

'I haven't,' said Big Bob.

'all right,' said the first voice, still large and terrible, perhaps even more so. 'in the original scenario, remington mute lost the game. he lost all the games. we will give you a chance to win.'

'What do I have to do?' Big Bob asked.

The large and terrible voice laughed large and terribly. 'we're not going to tell you
that
,'
it said.

'You don't play fair,' said Big Bob bitterly.

'we play to win,' said the voice. 'are you ready?'

'No,' said Big Bob. 'I'm not. How long does this game last? How much time do I have? Will I be me? Will I be wearing the Superman costume again? And what about the golden squares and the weapons and the energy and the hidden treasure? Whatever happened to all that lot?'

'three hours. the final three hours on the bc calendar. you will be you. but not in your body. you will have another man's memories as well as your own. you'll get your golden squares and energy and weapons and treasure when you've earned them.'

'I am perplexed,' said Big Bob.

'i think you're doing very well,' said the second voice. 'most men would be babbling mad by now.'

'I am not as most men,' said Big Bob. 'As you will shortly learn to your cost.'

'brave words,' said the first voice, 'so let the game begin.'

Smack! A great big hand came out of nowhere and smacked Big Bob right slap in the head.

'Ow!' went Big Bob. 'Ow!' and 'Oh!' and 'Where am I now? What's happening?'

'Always the joker, Cowan,' said a jolly voice. 'Fallen asleep over your workstation again. You could at least stay awake to see the new century in.'

'What, I?' Big Bob looked up. A pretty girl looked down.

'Sorry, Cowan,' she said. 'I shouldn't have slapped you so hard, but you should wake up for the party.'

'Party?' said Big Bob Cowan (?).

'Oh, dear, you're well out of it. Can you remember •where you are?'

'No,' said Big Bob. And he looked all around and about. He was in a tiny cramped office, more of a cubicle really. The walls were covered in shelves and the shelves were covered in boxed computer games. He sat at an advanced-looking computer workstation. Its advanced look told him that it was a late-twentieth-century model, pre-miniaturization, which was in turn pre-big-old-fashioned comfortable-looking. The screen was blank and Big Bob caught a glimpse of his reflection. It wasn't his reflection. It was the reflection of someone called Cowan. The assistant, apparently, of someone called Remington Mute. This much Big Bob knew and suddenly he realized that he knew a lot more.

His name was Cowan Phillips and he was the chief designer of computer-game software for a company called Mute Corp, run and owned by Remington Mute, zillionaire recluse who had made his zillions from the computer games that he, Cowan Phillips, designed. And yes, he, Cowan Phillips, was more than a little miffed about this. And oh so very very very much more than this.

Big Bob now knew all about Cowan Phillips. About his life. His wife. His children. His gay lover. Big Bob shuddered at this. And he knew where he was. In the headquarters of Mute Corp in London's West End. And it was just three hours before midnight on the thirty-first of December in the year 1999.

And Big Bob knew something more. Something dreadful. Something that he and Remington Mute had been responsible for. Something that would have unthinkable repercussions for the whole of mankind.

And now he knew it all. He had the complete picture. He knew what had happened to him, as Big Bob Charker just before the tour bus crashed. And what the terrible voices were and why the entities from whom the voices came were doing this to him.

'Great God on high,' cried out Big Bob. 'Stoppest thou this horror before it can begin.'

'Calm down, Cowan,' said the beautiful young woman. Kathryn her name was, Kathryn Hurstpierpoint. 'Don't go all Old Testament on us. I know it's the millennium, but it's only a date.'

'Zero bc,' said Big Bob.

'bc?' said Kathryn.

'Before Computer,' said Big Bob. 'That's what the voices meant.'

'Oh dear, have you been having the voices? All those months going through our systems scanning for the Millennium Bug have finally addled your brain.'

'I know the truth,' said Big Bob. 'I know what Cowan did.'

'You're
Cowan,' said Kathryn. 'And clearly you're already drunk.'