David Garnet - Bikini Planet

It wasn’t human.

He wasn’t a man.

He was… it was… an alien!

“You,” said the first alien to Norton. “We want you.”

Norton didn’t speak, couldn’t speak. He didn’t move, couldn’t move.

The alien beckoned to him. It looked like an arm, but must have been a tentacle.

“Come with us,” said the second alien.

“Why?” whispered Norton.

“We are here to rescue you,” said a third humanoid shape as it materialised in the doorway.

“I don’t want rescuing.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

Norton glanced toward Mandy. She was almost naked, he knew, but it was too dark to see her.

“You are a prisoner,” one of the aliens went on, “your senses have been deprived, you have been held here in the dark.”

“It wasn’t dark until you arrived.”

“They keep you naked.”

“I’m not naked.”

“You are.”

“No. I just haven’t got any clothes on.”

“That is the definition of naked. Your mind as well as your body has been held captive. Follow us.”

Norton had soon recovered from his initial shock. Menaced by three armed aliens, he should have been terrified. Instead, he felt angry that they’d burst in on him and Mandy. Why now? Why not a few minutes later?

“Why should I?” he asked.

“Because—” began one of the aliens.

“Do not explain,” a different alien said. “We are not here for a debate. Follow us. That is an order.”

“We will not hurt you,” said another alien.

“Don’t say that,” said yet another one.

“We will hurt you,” said the first (or second, or third).

“And don’t say that,” said the second (or third, or first).

The aliens were the size of humans, with the same number of limbs and a similar body shape. They even moved like humans, sounded like humans. What was different was the size and shape of their heads, which resembled masks.

They were masks, Norton realised.

These weren’t aliens. They were three men, each wearing a bizarre face mask, each carrying a lethal weapon.

“I think we should have a debate,” said one of them. “Do you prefer to stay here? A prisoner? Naked? In the dark?”

“Your only future is to be sold to the highest bidder,” said another.

“Like some valuable antique,” added the last of the trio.

“An excellent analogy.”

“I’m glad you appreciate it.”

“If you are a genuine antique, that is. Not a recent fake.”

“I want to stay here,” said Norton, and he glanced at Mandy again. His eyes were becoming used to the gloom. She was sitting on the end of the bed, gazing at the blank television screen, pressing the control buttons.

“With her, your jailer?”

“Yes,” said Norton.

“You are the victim of a psychological syndrome whereby a prisoner becomes emotionally bonded with his captor. You’ll soon forget her when you’re liberated.”

“You’ll soon forget her when she’s dead. We want no witnesses. Shall I kill her or would one of you particularly enjoy the experience?”

“No!” said Norton.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“Don’t kill her!”

“Come with us, and we won’t.”

“How do I know that? She can come with us.”

“ No! ” said Mandy, turning her head. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to speak. It just slipped out. Don’t kill me. Please . I’ll be truly, truly grateful if you let me stay alive.”

“Be silent.”

“Or be forever silent.”

Mandy put her hand to her mouth, looked at Norton, kissed her fingertips, blew him the kiss, then looked back at the empty screen.

“Put this on,” said one of the three.

Norton started to reach for his clothes, but one of the men handed him a mask similar to theirs. It was the face of an animal, although nothing he recognised; some kind of composite creature, but feathered like a bird.

As he slipped the mask over his face, he was instantly blind. It wrapped itself around his head and the world became totally dark, absolutely silent. He tried to pull the mask off, but his arms were seized and he was dragged away, out into the deeper darkness of the unknown future!

Wayne Norton didn’t know where he was. Again.

He was naked again. Still naked.

This time he was surrounded by the shadowy outlines of his three abductors, a bright light was aimed into his eyes, and he was tied to a chair. So chairs did still exist.

“You are John Wayne?” asked one of them.

“Yes,” he said. “Who are you?”

“You don’t have to answer him,” said a different voice.

“I know I don’t have to answer him,” said the first.

“We have ways of making you talk,” said yet another voice, followed by a snort of laughter. “I said it, I said the line. We have ways of making you talk.” He said it again.

“But I am talking,” said Norton. “Listen. This is my voice. I’m talking. What do you want to know?”

“I thought you’d be taller,” said the second voice.

“I’m sitting down,” said Norton.

“You’re not the John Wayne,” said the first voice.

Hundreds of years in the future, and they still watched John Wayne movies…?

To give himself time to think, Norton gazed at the dark shapes of his interrogators. Although they had removed their masks, he still couldn’t make out their faces. He felt as if there was someone else behind him, and he managed to half-turn his head. The room was cramped, the ceiling very low, and it was too dark to see.

It was difficult to judge how much time had passed since he’d been seized. More than an hour, probably. Less than three, certainly. He didn’t know where he was, but neither did he know where he had been. When he first awoke, he was indoors. He was still inside.

He’d been led away on foot, then sat down for a while. Unable to see or hear, neither had he felt any movement. Had he been in a car? Or even a plane? He had no way of knowing.

He had no way of knowing anything, in fact.

His abduction could have been a trick. These were Brendan’s men, trying to find out more about Norton than he’d originally admitted. He might have been only a few yards from where he was previously held. That could be why he hadn’t been given his clothes.

In any case, because he was still naked, it seemed unlikely he’d been out in the open during his journey here. In this weird world, however, who could tell?

Norton certainly couldn’t.

“ The John Wayne?” he said. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You would if you were really born in the twentieth century,” said the third voice.

“I was.”

Apart from Brendan and Mandy, these were the only people he had encountered in the future. And it seemed they knew far more about the past than the first two he’d met.

“Who was John Wayne?” asked the second voice.

“I was,” said Norton. “And I am. It was a common name in my century. Lots of guys were called John. Lots of families were called Wayne. That means there were lots of John Waynes.”

“The John Wayne we know was taller,” said the first voice.

“We think he was taller,” said the third voice. “He was usually on a horse. John Wayne was a cowboy.”

“What I want to know,” said the second voice, “is why they were called ‘cowboys’ when they rode horses.”

“Because,” said Norton, “it was their job to drive herds of cows.”

“To drive them?” said the second voice. “Cows had engines in the twentieth century?”

“And because they were driven they were called steers!” said the first voice.

“Autobiotics has a longer history than we thought,” said the third voice.