Body Language

Chapter One: I Can't Explain

Pete's POV

No one knew when it happened.

No one knew how it happened.

And no one knew why it happened.

One thing was for certain: it happened.

I think I was the first one to get it, and I'm not sure if that should be considered an honour or not.

What am I saying? Of course it wasn't an honour - it was downright bloody horrifying!

I woke up early one Sunday morning, bleary-eyed and a horrible ringing in my ears. I couldn't see. I couldn't hear. I couldn't think. My head was throbbing, so I attempted to sooth it by massaging my temples. It wasn't very effective.

The sunlight was just peeking through a gap in the curtains, streaming directly onto my poor, pale face. I blinked in the sudden light. My head felt extremely heavy, like it was too big for my body. My sight was still blurry and there was a terrible, stale taste of alcohol in my mouth. I glanced around the room.

"Bloody hell," I grumbled. "That's the last time I let Keith talk me into having sevenths on beer."

I swung my legs out of bed and placed my feet on the floor. It was a struggle trying to stand up; it felt like I was on boat, swaying from side to side and stumbling around. If my bedroom really had been a boat, I would have also felt terribly seasick.

I heaved my sorry self out of bed and stood up, digging my toes into the carpet. It felt nice under my cold feet. I was still wearing the clothes I'd worn last night to the party, but they were all rumpled and covered in suspicious stains.

I shuffled across the carpet to my en suite bathroom and flicked the light on. I blinked again as everything suddenly shifted into focus.

"My God," I grumbled, rubbing my eyes. "I probably look a sight. Where's the sink?..."

I found the sink, turned on the water and proceeded to splash my face with cold water. It felt quite nice - really refreshing. Everything was becoming clearer. My vision was almost back to normal. I could almost see my reflection in the mirror properly.

When my sight was fully restored, I had a good long stare at myself in the mirror.

I froze.

The reflection...

It wasn't right.

I saw my big, droopy blue eyes. I saw my brown hair (which was sticking up all around my head at crazy angles). My beard was still present - Keith and Roger hadn't tried to shave it off while I was asleep, thank the Lord for that.

Something else was missing.

My nose...

Where was it?

"Oh, haha, very funny, guys!" I shouted. "Changing my real mirror to a fun house one so it looks like I don't have a nose! You guys are so imma - OH MY GOD!"

I had reached up and felt around my face, just to make doubly sure it was all just a sick joke - but I felt nothing. There was absolutely nothing where my nose was meant to be!

My nose was GONE.

I took a while for the reality to set in. Then I let out a horrified gasped, which quickly turned into a loud, high-pitched scream. I raced out of the en suite, nearly crashing straight into the bathroom wall in my panic. I ran around my bedroom like a startled rabbit, screaming my head off.

"Oh my God!" I shrieked. "Oh my God! Oh my God! My nose is - "

I stopped dead in my tracks. I tried to calm down and suss out the situation like normal human being - without completely losing my head. I pinched myself hard on the arm, making sure that everything was real and I wasn't just dreaming (or stuck in a hellish nightmare).

Nope. This was happening.

My nose - my wonderful, iconic nose - had completely vanished from my face. All that was left was... well, a whole lot of nothing. It was a just a flat segment of skin now. I peered in the looking glass imbedded in the door of my wardrobe. My face looked so strange without a nose - I looked like a freak!

"What the hell am I going to do?" I wailed. "I can't go out like this! People would freak out!"

Then, all of a sudden and without any kind of warning, Keith burst into my room. I jumped about ten feet in the air.

"Pete!" Keith yelled. "Pete! Pete!"

I quickly seized a wooly scarf that was lying discarded on the floor and wound it around my head, masking my noseless face from view.

"Knock, can't you?" I snapped, my voice slightly muffled by the scarf.

"Sorry," said Keith, although he didn't sound sorry at all. "Have you heard about what's been going on?"

"No," I replied. "Is it important?"

"I'll say! We just got a call from a few of our rock star pals, and you won't believe this - apparently one member from each band (or certain solo singers) are missing their most iconic body parts! Can you imagine that?"

I blinked at Keith in astonishment. So I wasn't the only one missing something of value! "Are you sure about this, Keith?"

Keith hesitated for a moment. "Well, that's what we heard, anyway. It doesn't mean its true. I mean, they could be playing a trick on us."

That possibility hadn't crossed my mind, but seriously - who in their right mind would make up such a thing? Keith wouldn't; it was far beyond his mentality.

"Who called?" I asked. "Anyone of interest?"

"Well, Paul called," said Keith, counting on his fingers. "So did David... and Mick, he rang... Freddie phoned up... and a few others, but I can't remember."

"That's an awful lot of people," I said. "And you're certain it's all a con?"

"That's what Roger and John said, anyway. I'm still not sure myself."

"I see..." I paused for a second, contemplating what I'd just been told. "Well, what are they going to do about it? All these people with missing body parts?"

"Paul said they're going to be meeting somewhere a bit later on to figure out what the bloody hell is going on," Keith answered. "I think it's happening at Abbey Road studios. That's what Paul told us."

"Uh huh..." I murmured.

There was a silence.

"Oi, Pete?" Keith said suddenly.

"What?" I said.

"Why have you got a rugby scarf wrapped around your head?"

"Never you mind," I replied, flinging open the wardrobe and putting on whatever I pulled out: trousers, shirt, tie, that sort of thing. "I'm going out today. Don't wait up for me."

"Wasn't planning on doing that," Keith said, smirking.

"Cheeky bastard," I said, flicking Keith's nose.

Then I pulled on my coat, adjusted the scarf coiled like a snake around my face, then hurried out of the flat and out into the cold morning air.

Now I knew several other people were having the same problem as I was... but the only question was... "Why?"