Retired police detective Seymour Staines lives a quiet life as an ice cream man driving around the small Yorkshire village of Wharram Percy in his Mr Whippy truck. One night he gets a mysterious call from his friend Rigby Pemberton who manages the o...
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"Killing us will be harder than you think," snarled Vivian. She swept a pistol from her pocket and aimed it steadily at Bob. "Yet before I kill you, I'm curious to know who you really are." Her tone was suddenly conversational, as if making small talk at a cocktail party. She sat down on a stack of building bricks and crossed her legs. Seymour was almost surprised she didn't light up a cigarette.
"But V..Vivian, darling," Professor Greenhaugh stammered, "what about the ceremony?"
"We have plenty of time, my dear. And I think we've found our victim for the ritual sacrifice. It will only serve to strengthen our rite." She patted the space next to her and the Professor dusted off its surface before gingerly taking a seat.
From their hiding place, Seymour and Stacey exchanged horrified glances, evidently sharing the memory of when Stacey was kidnapped at their hands for the same purpose.
"So, how is it that you know about the artefacts?" Vivian asked. "And what brings you to the Mill site... and at this time? You must have had prior knowledge. And don't give me that tosh about being the creator of the lenses."
Before Bob could reply, she leaned forward eagerly. "Oh! Are you an alien?"
Dr Frogmorton's disbelieving and disparaging grunt was loud enough that Seymour feared they'd be discovered. But the JCB he, Stacey and Frogmorton were crouched behind must have muffled the sound.
"I regret to have to disabuse you in your obvious worship of those beings, but I am 100% human...albeit extremely skilled and talented over and above the customary." Bob also lowered himself down, but on a pile of planks opposite the aggressors. Seymour rubbed his sweaty palms together. He couldn't understand Bob's nonchalance given his apparent lack of any weapon. Was he about to try his invisibility trick? Though that hadn't proved that effective when he'd tried it on Seymour.
"However," Bob added, "I can confirm I am indeed the creator of the lenses and thus have the knowledge of timings of their misuse... And I cannot allow you to follow through on your proposed actions. They will lead to the end of the world."
"So, humour me," Bob continued, "how it is that you both come to be here? I sense you are out of your own era."
"Don't tell him, Vivian, I don't trust him." Greenhaugh's voice was hoarse with anxiety. "Let's just prepare."
"It appears you don't know everything," Vivian crowed at Bob, ignoring the Professor's fidgeting. "It's so clever. My brother, Rigby, sacrificed his body to send his spirit to the Astral Plane so that he could travel freely through time and space to advise us. He helped us return from the limbo that those meddling police forced us into. He directed us to a lens and sent us here." Vivian waved her gun.
Desiderata Frogmorton, the only able-bodied one of their hidden group made to rise. "No!" a voice shouted, but not out loud. Judging by the way Frogmorton sank back down, Stacey shuddered, and Seymour's head ached, they all three must have experienced the telepathic communication from Bob.
