Visitation - Exodus (book 2 of 2)

"World events are about to take a turn for the worse,” Ivan started off the conversation again.

“Although not many people have recognised the significance of the US government's press statements of the last two days, it appears that the promised ‘Great Announcement’ may not be too far away.”

“What’s that,” I queried staying verbal.

My head was clearing even further with each subsequent drink of this iced juice, especially in the relatively cooling waters of the pool. I tried to let myself relax further but I wasn’t relaxing. I was doing quite the opposite by becoming sharper in my understanding of what was going on.

“I have not heard that term before,” I put to Ivan, again avoiding somehow, any mental technique.

“I’ll tell you in a few moments, but away from here. Come on Ian, finish your drink off and then we’ll retire to the snack bar, out of the sun,” Ivan was using his instruction tone once more.

“And with a different ‘audience’ if any were listening,” he added.

“And we can also get something solid into your stomach,” John chipped in adding his normal smile to his good news.

“I wouldn’t say no to some food either,” Ivan continued, changing to a lighter tone, “I’m starving. Come on Ian, let’s make a move.”

I quickly finished what was left of my drink, leaving mostly crushed ice, and followed my two friends. We left the pool using the nearest tiled steps. I was quite capable of walking now and feeling much better than I did a short while ago. I guess the fruit juice, which I now felt sure was the same as I had been given at the base, had worked its wonders. I didn’t bother asking how it came to be here, I guess I just had to take its appearance for granted. There were many things still beyond my understanding.

We were dripping wet, but John said not to worry and disappeared off to a small white hut a short distance away. We stood dripping until he returned with three large beach towels, one for each of us.

Throwing one in my direction he simply stated, “I handed in the cards, as everyone else does, and received our beach towels to go on the sun-beds.”

“But I was laid on one when I woke up,” I queried, “wasn't I? And now I’ve got another one.”

“Ian, you’re thinking too much,” John laughingly explained. “How many cards do you think I have in my pocket, and how easy is it to make copies for someone like me. Come on now, this sort of cloak and dagger stuff you should be enjoying, not questioning. We are trying to keep you out of the frame and alive until matters cool down a bit, so take it easy; do not get wound up, not just yet.”

“And what then?” I asked.

I did not receive a reply but a blank ‘do not ask’ stare from both of them.

A quick rub down with a towel removed most of the surplus pool water while the hot sun quickly did the rest. With the towels slung over shoulders, we meandered up the ramp in our bare feet and into the snack bar. Nobody took any attention of us. Many others were also in various states of dripping. Others were coated in various amounts of sand from the beach, spreading it everywhere as they walked. We didn’t look at all out of place.

John decided it would be better to be properly seated as the rest of the crowd as just another group of guys taking advantage of a bite to eat for a light lunch. The towels were quickly draped over three of the white plastic chairs at a table John had selected and we headed for the servery counters.

Burger and fries it was to be.

I helped myself to a freshly cooked burger and a couple of helpings of fries. An hour or so ago I had felt terrible and disorientated, now I was starving. If, as I was being told, I had been left in the room for two days, it was not so surprising that I needed my stomach filling. I covered the burger with some fried onions and a big splash of tomato ketchup, not forgetting a little salad on the side.

I was not over concerned about the seeded buns on offer, I always found them lacking in substance and somewhat dry. That was just me. Ivan decided to indulge himself in style with two of the burgers in buns on his plate already which were quickly filled with a copious amount of fries.

John had chosen this table especially because we could eat while keeping the back of the bar that we had just left and the full length of the pool, in easy view. Ivan went back to the servery counter for some cold drinks. He filled three plastic beakers from one of the fizzy drinks dispensers, complete with several lumps of ice and got these back to the table without spilling a drop.

This was not the fruit juice I half expected, or rather wished he might return with, but it was quite refreshing and most acceptable none-the-less. We tucked into our light bites with the relish of hungry people. The fries on my plate did not stand much of a chance as neither did the hot juicy burger.

“You asked about this impending Great Announcement, Ian,” Ivan continued from where the discourse at the pool had left off, but now in a much quieter voice and in-between bites. “Let me explain what I know.”

He paused his eating and took on a serious expression.

“There is going to be, from what we have come to understand, a declaration by the US Government, probably by the President or perhaps someone else, that several alien life forms not only exist on this planet but have done so for quite a period of time.”

He paused for that to sink in.

“He will announce that Senior members of the US government have not only been aware of this for many years but have been working jointly and peacefully with some, perhaps all, of the various alien races to establish a coherent and peaceful New World Order. They are all to become, jointly we are guessing, the new policemen of the world.”

John managed a confirmatory nod and a grunt with his mouth full of food. I sat quietly trying to comprehend what he was saying while not ignoring my food.

“All governments, of whatever persuasion, round the world,” Ivan went on in-between more mouthfuls, “and from what we have picked up so far,” another bite, “will have to be agreeable, to be subservient to the new order or face punitive action of some sort.”

Partially finishing off some more of his fries, which were disappearing fast, Ivan continued. “Some countries’ governments and again this is something else our intelligence sources have come to understand, are already a part of this great conspiracy and will be used to coerce others to follow suit.”

He seemed to be as hungry as I was and was devouring his food, equally as fast as I was trying to, while managing somehow to fit in speaking. Finishing his last mouthful of fries while attacking the burgers, he rushed to continue.

“The final piece of this jigsaw, and the reason we have put our project together to leave this planet, with many of your kind, our cousins, is to escape what is really going to take place.”

I was locked on to that last statement and needed to hear more; the food could wait.

John who had been busy paying more attention, it seemed, to his food, picked up the narrative leaving Ivan to concentrate on a large mouthful of burger and bun.

“When the mechanics of the new order are in place,” John said, “we believe that the aliens will just take over the US governmental grouping, possibly eliminate, or more probably, ‘modify’ them all to use their corporeal entities, doing with them as they please to further their aims.”

This came out without pause or any spraying of food.

“Remember the film ‘El Cid’ when the corpse of the dead leader, strapped to his horse, rode out in front of his troops?” John continued by asking me this strange question.

It was a long time since I had seen that film, once as a child and subsequently when it had appeared on television, but I did remember some of it though not in any detail. It was spectacular film for its time with Charlton Heston in the lead role. If I remembered correctly, yet again, the scene being referred to by John was towards the end or even perhaps the final big scene. I nodded that I did recall it.

“Well, his soldiers and those of his enemy had to believe he was still alive,” John pursued his story, which I had already brought to mind. “He had died, so his lifeless body was strapped onto his horse making it look like he was very much still alive. The result was a massive boost in morale with a resulting victory in battle. Believe me, those old tactics can still be employed successfully today when required.”

“The type of aliens that the Americans are mixed up with can make the dead walk and talk if need be,” he blurted out, sort of quietly. “We found this out from one of our spies who actually observed it in action.”

“I'll bet you thought real zombies were only a legend, Ian,” Ivan managed with a straight face as the last piece of one of his burgers disappeared.

I was shocked and did not know how to respond.

“It's actually much worse,” he continued with a mouth full of fresh burger thrashing about his copious mouth.

“How could this be worse,” I thought.

He was doing most of the talking but his plate was still emptying; he seemed very practised at eating and talking at the same time.

“What is this all about, you ask?” Ivan started up the explanations again in a rhetorical tone.

He stared at me and I believed he was actually looking for an answer. I was silent, not volunteering an answer and paying close attention to feeding my face, so he continued.

“Well there are two theories. One says that a massive and passive labour force is required for some project we know nothing about. Excuse me.”

This was the first time I had heard him excuse himself to stuff the remains of his burger and bun into his mouth and at some speed. I waited in anticipation for him to start again; I didn’t have to wait long.

“The other theory is that certain groups of the aliens need human body fluids and secretions for food, the removal of which in normal circumstances would cause the death of the ‘donor’; yes?”

I had no idea what he was on about so I just nodded for him to continue.

“If they can keep the human body alive while still functionally dead,” he explained, “then they have themselves a continuous supply of live nourishment; creating what we would all define as zombies!”

I nodded again; I was still unsure what he was talking about with this strange story, it seemed so extreme, the stuff of ‘B-movies’. I had seen and heard some weird things, but this was really strange.

“We are not sure about the detail or to what extent each option may apply but that is the extent of what we currently know. Not good news is it?”

I was shocked at what I had just been told and had to nod again as the implications of what he might be telling me started to sink in. I somehow managed to carry on eating a mouthful of burger and dripping onions that had been going cold on the end of my fork. I needed anything going down my throat to satisfy the greater importance, right now, of the griping sensation inside due to a two day lack of food in my stomach.

I paused to look across at John who nodded in confirmation of what Ivan had just told me. I continued eating the last of my food in silence trying to contemplate in all seriousness what had just been recounted to me; it was not easy. I had almost finished my food when John seemed to freeze. He was looking almost straight ahead past Ivan and his eyes took on a fixed stare.

“Glance across to where your bed is, Ian,” he directed, “but move very slowly.”

John’s serious tone needed no second thought and I did exactly as he said and slowly as he instructed. I adjusted my gaze, needing to turn my head only slightly to my left to see past Ivan who still had his back to the pool area. My sun bed was just in view; I was sure that John had planned this seating position in advance.

I could see two tall figures in what had to be black trench coats partly concealing equally dark suits. Their dress was complete with black trilbies almost concealing some over-large shades hiding most of their faces. Their highly polished black leather shoes reflected the bright sunlight only too well. I was surprised at how much detail I picked up, considering how far away they were, but I guessed my brain was now operating at maximum efficiency.

They stood out like sore thumbs, their incongruous dress style contrasting sharply against the holidaymakers’ light and brightly patterned summer clothing. Their appearance also rang a bell inside my head. I had seen these kinds of characters before. They had appeared after that explosion event at the BBC offices some time back which almost killed me. My memories were truly coming back, possibly because I was finding myself under an amount of stress.

I could not make out their faces as the pulled-down trilbies and shades hid almost everything facial. They were clearly not hotel staff and I had never seen guests dress like that, especially in this sort of heat. They appeared to be questioning the couple that I had been laid adjacent to only a short while ago.

Ivan pushed his plate in front of him and got to his feet to walk casually away towards the food counter but only a few steps. Turning round he came back to rest his hands on the back of John’s chair so that he was looking in the same direction.

“Forget the food, take a last drink but slowly, and when I say move, do exactly as I say,” John’s voice now developed into the commanding tone I had heard him use once before, at the airport.

“Whatever you do Ian, do not speak and you must not try not to think out loud at all. You have been well disciplined for the last half hour or so, keep it that way.”

“It appears somehow that they, whoever 'they' are,” he continued, “have picked up on our trail. I did not anticipate that this was possible, but the game has now changed. Your life may depend on what happens in the next few minutes, and I do mean that, so you must do exactly as I say without question and moreover without thinking; definitely no thinking.”

John’s tone had become extremely serious and he was now telling me that my life could be in jeopardy; I could do without this. I had not long ago woken up with a banging head, but managed some sort of recovery in the last hour or so by virtue of the legendary fruit juice and a mouthful of food.

“How in hell did they get here?”

I realised I had just instinctively thought an obvious question and hoped it had been extremely quiet. Perhaps the sudden increase in my stress level had automatically removed the control I thought I had. I had to get control on my actions and concentrated hard not think any more.

“Concentrate on not thinking! That’s almost an oxymoron you fool. Get a grip, stop this.”

I believe I had managed to but even thinking that I had might be contradictory.

A short stay in the pool and I had been coming back to some semblance of normality and with this I was coming rapidly to a completely cold sober state and with a great deal of concern. The adrenalin was kicking in. I really was in a state of heightened awareness and could do without all of this right now. John and Ivan stared at me in a clear silent question. I knew instinctively what they were asking and I nodded in confirmation that I would try not to think out loud or even not at all.

“I didn’t say try, Ian,” Ivan stared intently at me as he spoke, “I said DO NOT think.”

I had a tendency to respond to orders and got the message to put myself again into some sort of switch-off mode. I surprised myself that this came so easy, as easy as the cold shudder and the rising hairs on the back of my neck. I carefully drank down the remains of my cold fizzy ‘whatever’ which helped overcome the adrenalin driven dry mouth I now found myself with. Leaving the remaining ice and staying studiously quiet, I watched carefully.

The two figures moved in the direction my neighbours had pointed. Away to their right (my left viewing the scene) where my elderly neighbours on their sun beds had seen me enter the pool by the steps, almost hidden by the pool bar over at this side. We could just make out the movements of these two however, by looking between and over the drinkers on their stools at this side of the bar. They were at normal ground level but under the roofing line leaving a collection of gaps to see through.

It appeared that the two had drawn level with the pool steps and from the fleeting glances, they had to be making as their trilbies and heads kept nodding and looking left and right; they were now asking questions of the people in the water.

“Stand now,” ordered John quietly. “Walk down the ramp to the back of the bar and stand quietly behind the drinkers as though waiting to place an order. I don’t think we will be spotted amongst the crowd as I’m sure they don’t know exactly who they are looking for.”

We all did as John ordered, rising from our seats, leaving our towels, crockery and a minute amount of uneaten burgers where they were, to walk slowly down the gently sloping ramp to stand behind the crowd at the bar. In that position, we had a better view of the two men-in-black’s movements. Someone pointed towards the bar and the two dark figures raised their heads to look in our direction.

“Look down,” said John, “and we’ll just be part of the crowd. Do not look at them, they will spot you.”

From beneath my drooping brow, and between the heads of two drinkers in front of me I managed a few, I hoped, innocuous glances. The men in black seemed to be scanning the bar area from the furthest length of the pool and we hoped that they were looking at the other, sunken side of pool bar, which was in bright sunlight and next to where we had been sat previously.

I was so glad that we had decided to move for a bite to eat; serendipity seemed to be on our side or had John and Ivan been cleverly anticipating?

Here in the shade on the opposite side of the bar building, I thought it unlikely that any one person would stand out as long as the whites of their eyes were not peering in the wrong direction. They continued their walk round the pool, the long route to where we were. This was significantly further than if they had decided to return to the beach side, passing the elderly couple and come towards us from there.

That was the mistake that John needed.

“Let’s go,” another quiet order, “onto the beach but do not rush, not yet, be casual.”

From the back of bar, to the right, the bar and poolside path branched to a ramp that ran down to the soft sand of the glorious beach. I wasn’t thinking about how nice everything looked; I was becoming nervous and very frightened. I was pleased to be in the hands of relatively younger people, well people younger than me, who were still active in this kind of cloak and dagger thing. I was almost on the point of feeling that all of this was most unreal and I had to shake myself awake quickly to the cold of day, except it wasn’t cold and the sun seemed to be shining with even more intensity.

John and Ivan were giving me the impression that they were in control of our situation, for the present, and that just about gave me a sufficient increase in confidence to go along with everything they said; but there again, what choice had I? These were people in whom I could and most certainly, had to trust.

My legs seemed to be operating on their own as I almost ‘watched’ myself following where John and Ivan led. Walking slowly in this direction, we were keeping the bar building between the men-in-black and ourselves. Reaching the downward ramp came as a welcome relief and my heart stopped some of its pounding. Down to the hot soft sands, a couple of metres below took a few more paces only.

This placed us completely out of view from the pool and now we could hurry at the insistence of John's silent prodding along the soft sands, albeit in a stiff uncoordinated manner. I realised I was missing my sandals but had no intention of going back up to the pool to retrieve them. It was then that I also realised, rather strangely, that none of us were wearing any footwear; I suppose John and Ivan must have left theirs somewhere adjacent to the pool as had I.

A few dozen difficult strides ploughing through the soft stand, we reached a flight of stone steps. I remembered these to be the steps off the beach up to the hotel proper and well past the extent of the pool area. John went up first, glancing to his left and then beckoned us to follow quickly; we did. Hurrying upwards without any sideways glancing, despite the urge, we were among neat wicker tables and matching seating looking out to the sea over the beach.

Here several groups of people seated on the cushioned seats were enjoying a relaxing coffee in the gentle, warm, off-sea breeze. Oh that smell of freshly brewed hotel coffee, I could so easily have joined them except for the situation in which I found myself. We received barely a glance from the couples at the tables, which was reassuring, our presence not causing any untoward attraction. Not even as we left a trail of sand from off our feet and from between our toes as we stepped forward.

“It won’t be long before they catch up with us, so we have to move fast. Ian, are you functioning properly?” John asked with what I thought was a strange choice of words except that it brought my thoughts back in sharp focus and away from dreaming about the coffee.

“Can you hurry when I need you to?” He had now made it very clear just what he meant.

“I don’t have much choice really, do I,” I replied in gasps.

“Good man, a fast walk is all I’m asking. If we have to run then we are in very serious trouble and it may then be too late anyway,” he continued.

How was I going to move fast across a marble floor with feet covered in sand, it was uncomfortable enough just walking with soles covered in slippy sand?

John’s request did not sound at all good. he took a quick look around and then waving to us to hurry after him; he headed for what I took to be a lift lobby. Thankfully, a door opened at just the right time and several people, talking among themselves rather excitedly, streamed out and walked straight past us without a second glance; I took this to be another good omen.

“Into the elevator quickly, Ian,” Ivan chivvied me.

I wanted to argue for some reason that in England it’s called a lift but I quickly abandoned the idea; this was not the time or place. We dived quickly into the empty lift/elevator before the doors closed behind us, providing a combined sense of security but also entrapment. The feeling of the latter came to predominate in my emotions with a sudden panic.

John and Ivan glared at me; my panic had triggered an mount of mental activity which we could have done without. I could only hope that it was not at too loud a volume.

John had pressed one of the buttons and up to the second floor we went but not fast enough for my liking. As the doors opened, Ivan held John and me back before he ventured out of the lift and along the balcony corridor to our room. I wanted to go after him; my legs were twitching as much as my bowels.

“It’s only a short distance away, Ian,” John spoke quietly, “stay cool, stop panicking, keep that mind of yours switched off, OK? No more panicking”

I nodded and put in an effort to do as he asked.

Somehow I knew that our room was no more than some twenty yards away, accessed from a smaller side corridor branching off the main one. This side corridor would also provide access to a room opposite ours.

“How in hell do I know all this? I’ve not been here before, nor have I while on holiday with Hazel and our friends?”

There was however a familiarity about the place that I could not explain; a sort of déjà vu. I knew some of the layout of this place, but the rest was just an unknown blur. I had to have been on holiday here, at least once before. I realised I was thinking again but I hoped not out loud this time. Ivan did not glance back so I guessed either he hadn’t heard me, in which case our two pursuers had not, or was it that other matters had Ivan’s full attention.

Ivan had been gone for more than a short while, or so it seemed, and my heart had decided to start racing to a tune of its own as my legs wished to do.

John seemed to be aware of how I felt.

“If this bit is OK then we stand a chance; really you mustn’t start to panic or you may broadcast where we are,” he advised.

Either John was hiding a talent that he was concealing effectively or his intuition was way beyond anything I had experienced before.

I didn’t really know to what he was referring, but the tone of the message was very clear and serious. I had not to panic, but my heart was racing even faster at the words and I could feel the thumping in my ears.

“Easy Ian, easy. It will turn out all right, don’t worry,” John stressed.

“He’s done it again.”

Now I realised that he was using the same calming technique that I had used not so long ago with Hazel, at Manchester Airport. I knew exactly what he was doing but I was even surer that he was responding to signals I was not outwardly supplying, at least I didn’t think I was. Perhaps he also had a talent to pick up my thoughts, although he had never said as much.

I looked at him full in the face and he just smiled, a knowing slightly humorous smile, and responded with a simple verbal, “OK” and nothing else. He knew, that I knew, that he was either bluffing or speaking genuinely but he wasn't about to suggest which. He was doing a good job of confusing me.

Why I was becoming anxious at this increasingly serious cloak and dagger stuff I didn't know. I had plenty of past experience when wearing a uniform and also when not, but perhaps this was now something to do with my age. The experiences I was recalling were many years previous and I had surely forgotten the detail of how matters had developed then. Memories of past events tend to become glossed over with the passage of time with much of the reality forgotten. I had most certainly forgotten how the adrenalin flows at such times, moreover because I had been a much younger man in those days long since past and the effect then was almost certainly a lot less than I was feeling now.

I was trembling slightly and the hairs on the back of my neck were beginning to stand up with some seriousness. I needed to move, go somewhere, do something, get my twitching legs started; fight or flight was definitely the predominant mind and body filling sensation. The adrenalin was having its wicked way and in no short measure.

Ivan’s head appeared round the corner of the wall and motioned John and I to follow. John was moving fast, he knew where he was going, and I raced after him with my still sandy feet sliding slightly on the stone floor. Ivan had already disappeared. As John and I reached the little access corridor, which for some reason prompted that familiar feeling again, turning the corner into it there was Ivan standing quietly, waiting. He put his finger to his lips for us to stay quiet.

He whispered a few words in hushed tones that I strained to hear.

“The room has been wrecked, do not shout out in surprise or become angry, play it cool and quiet. Find enough clothes to walk out of the hotel without drawing attention to ourselves. Get changed quickly and let’s be out of there in less than a couple of minutes; do it now; MOVE.”

His orders, while spoken quietly, came clear and to the point; I had to obey.

We hurried quickly along the remainder of this little access corridor and bolted through the open door into our room.

“How do I know this is OUR room?”

Ivan glared at me but said nothing; he didn’t have to. It seemed I couldn’t keep switched off when the emotions were raised; I really had to try harder.

Standing inside we found all our clothes, what little there were, flung all over the room. It wasn’t too hard recognising, amongst the mess, a pair of my trousers, a tee shirt, some underwear and my trainers that had become jammed into the corner between a chair and the wall. I quickly dropped my swimming shorts and not bothering to use a towel to dry off, pulled on my togs; my wet and sandy feet I just jammed into my recovered trainers.

The safe had been smashed open, or rather it looked as though it had been melted open and left buried in the TV set where it had, I presumed, been thrown. Someone was strong enough to rip a safe off its mountings, force the door open and throw it across the room with sufficient force to create a new work of art with the television.

This was a surrealistic scene and it had an odd smell about it, something akin to burning metal.

I hesitated just for a moment before I realised that I was considering the artistry for much longer than I should. I needed to address the reality of what may have caused this scene and move on quickly. I was concerned to locate the wallet I would normally have in my trousers or in the destroyed safe or perhaps did not have with me in the first place. Why was I becoming concerned about my wallet? Probably a lifetime’s habit of always having it in my possession with the ID and money it carried.

Ivan could not have read my mind, or had he; he certainly knew of my concerns.

He reached into his discarded wet shorts, removing both the ‘remote’ device I had seen previously and some sort of clear plastic wallet crammed with notes and also my wallet. He managed a slight smile, passed me my wallet, and beckoned us out with a wave of his hand.

I had no socks on, my feet were jammed into my trainers, the shoelaces of which were not fastened, but I moved when told to. Fastening shoelaces had to come second to orders being given in this frightening situation. They could be sorted out later, unless I tripped over them and they sorted me out. I had to concentrate on walking until I could find an opportune moment but right now I had the irresistible urge to use my legs, to get out of here.

Out into the corridor, a quick glance by Ivan in the direction of the lift and we headed off in the opposite direction. Towards the end of this balcony corridor we stepped quickly, carefully and as quietly as possible to then descend down what I guessed to be an open fire escape staircase.

Keeping a firm grip on the handrail, not wishing to trip on my laces up here to plummet down to the bottom of the two stories, we reached the external grounds of the hotel. A long road lined with rows of gently swaying, tall palm trees ran into the distance to my left.

Looking to my right there was what I quickly assumed to be the hotel main entrance where the road terminated in a turning circle. A brisk, short walk towards this entrance, prompted by John, took us to a taxi-cab rank waiting for fares. We jumped inside the one at the front of the queue with Ivan taking the front seat alongside the surprised driver.

The instructions were given by Ivan who knew the name of the small village up in the hills near where, I guessed, the craft had landed and was concealed. The taxi driver looked inquisitively at him asking why we wanted to go there, a small village leading to nowhere.

A handful of notes and the instruction to, “Drive now and don’t ask questions,” stopped the inquisitive looks but the taxi had still not moved.

When the driver looked at Ivan again who was staying calm, and before any more questions were asked, more notes were put on to the dashboard. That had the desired effect. Money does sometimes talk and it needed to speak loudly right now. I guessed that the right volume had just been achieved.

The taxi driver returned his head back to looking forwards, started up the vehicle and drove round the entrance circle to head down the palm tree lined road in complete silence. He did not appear comfortable but expressed no interest in knowing anything more after that last sum of money had appeared. Ivan prompted him to drive normally, without speeding, and when we arrived at our declared destination he would be given a further bonus if all had gone well.

We relaxed a little and I managed to tie my laces within the confines of the back seat. This ‘normal’ taxi drive along the coast took us towards the town that John confirmed as the Ocho Rios from where we had come some days before. Here, before we drove into the town properly, a right turn at a main junction took our not so merry band onto the uphill section of a road that seemed to disappear into the vegetation of the forests.

This was a twisty and tight roadway running between lush high-level vegetation, overhanging trees and vertical rock faces. The driver didn't even hesitate or change his speed when a large lorry on the opposite side of the road came charging past us at what I considered to be an alarming speed. The driver was clearly very familiar with this route and did not even manage a flinch.

I certainly did on that first encounter and on several more similar occasions. Despite our nervousness, well mine anyway, none of us complained, maybe because this crazy drive was taking our minds off the predicament we were in. At the top of this twisting climb we came out in the open. The trees no longer towered above us, and I think I audibly sighed at the easing of the strange claustrophobic sensation of being hemmed in by them as we had come up the hill.

The taxi arrived at the spot that Ivan had described and without incident, but as he slowed the driver was told to move on a little further, past the last shack of this small village, to where he could stop and get rid of us.

This time he did not query what was being said to him. In fact he was completely silent, probably concentrating on keeping quiet for just a little longer. Perhaps he was totally laid back and no longer concerned at the odd instructions from three unkempt, but apparently wealthy, foreigners. I wasn’t sure of either option and I didn’t care, I just wanted to get away from the sensation of confinement within this taxi.

As we slowed to a halt, Ivan gave him another fistful of notes on the promise that, after we had got out of his vehicle, he was to keep driving all the way to Kingston before turning round to come back. Now the driver showed some emotion as his eyes lit up accompanied by a broad, teeth-flashing grin. His whole persona seemed to come alive with a joy and some excitement, although this was perhaps added to by the relief of being rid of his rather odd passengers.

He was not asking questions now, just rolling the mound of notes that had come his way in his big hands. The total amount of money that Ivan had thrust at him must have been at least several weeks’ wages. The fare, many times the normal one when a taxi is picked up from the hotel rank (tourists are ‘loaded’) would have been about thirty dollars.

“How in hell do I know that?”

Ivan must have given him, in fist-fulls, something like two or three hundred dollars, and all in twenties. No wonder the driver was compliant, he wouldn’t be bothered why or wherefore; he certainly did not ask questions but departed with the customary goodbye.

“No problem man. Don't worry, it be irie.”

“I recognise the local slang; it’s called Patois,” I came out with to the surprise of all of us.

This was something else I seemed to know something of but without really knowing how or why. I watched transfixed as the cab shoot off in the desired direction, away from us, on towards Kingston.

John took my arm and steered me quickly into the forest at the side of the road. He paused to glance both left and right along the road we had just travelled before pushing me on in front of him into the greenery. We were both now behind but following Ivan who was leading the way to somewhere or other. I couldn’t see anything of the village we had just passed and assumed, in a reciprocal manner, that they could not see us.

To be honest as we moved forward into the vegetation I couldn’t see much at all except for flying branches and large sticky leaves that kept hitting me in the face. Walking through the foliage of this dense forest was hard work, the heat and the humidity were really getting to me and I was almost as wet as when I had stepped out of the swimming pool. I wished that I were still there.

Ivan turned to me and paused momentarily in this difficult trek.

“Ian, no thinking in the manner that I just sensed you did. If you were still at the pool you would either be floating dead or wishing you were. Just keep walking, quietly, focus on what you are doing, step after step; you must put the effort in now. Keep your talent on low volume or preferably turn it off again. Do one or the other for goodness sake, we can still be caught, and we’re not safe yet.”

I had been admonished once more.

He was picking up on my desperation at the task; I had to concentrate quietly. I automatically reached into my thoughts. It struck me most distinctly and in an almost physical manner that once more I found I did indeed have the ability that Ivan and John referred to. I reached into that part of my thoughts where I could exert control and switched something off. I had just confirmed to myself that I was actually capable of this and surprised again at the ease by which I achieved it.

I put more effort in to the difficulty of walking through the vegetation but it was now sapping my strength. My legs were on automatic pilot but turning to jelly. My heart was pounding and my breathing laboured and noisy. The sweat was pouring off me. I suddenly hit a wall, a real wall that was the firm back of a stationary Ivan and I was brought to stop in a panic. His sturdy, solid frame remained unmoved despite the impact.

“Try to breathe quietly for a few moments,” Ivan whispered over his shoulder. “I am going up ahead a short way to check something out; when I return we will move on to safety.”

I managed to steady my breathing but not my heart pounding strongly in my chest and ears, nor the sweat that was running freely off my body to find its way down my jelly legs into my trainers. I should have collapsed, by now, in a disorganised heap, despite the urgency. I could only guess the work undertaken on me, during my long stay in hospital at the base, had been effective to a significant, although possibly, a limited extent.

Ivan returned with a slight smile. “It looks OK. Move forward slowly and quietly and I will tell you when to dash again.”

“Dash, you must be kidding,” came straight to mind.

Ivan just stared at me. I got the message; I had relaxed almost straight away and had reverted to thinking out so bloody loud and not doing as I had just been told. I reached inside somewhere and again turned the volume right down, something that I believed I had done once already; clearly something that I had not done or had let go of.

A further twenty yards or so with my breath recovering at each gentle, much slower step, we were suddenly stopped by Ivan’s extended arm at the edge of a clearing. I could see a shimmer and it wasn’t a heat haze, it had a shape. Ivan pressed a button on his ‘remote’ and the shimmer took on a familiar dull grey form, as simultaneously, a ramp appeared and lowered beneath it.

“Now, lets go quickly, run, run,” Ivan ordered and off he went leading the last few dozen or more yards in a mad dash to the ramp that taking us up to the safety of the interior.

Gasping for air came second to the need to reach the ramp. How many times had I experienced this in my past? It almost seemed comforting in an odd sort of way, except for the pain in my chest. I felt as though I was seizing up. The long grass didn’t help as it wrapped round my feet and ankles, some of it actually cutting into the flesh. I felt the pain but it did not, nor could I let it slow me down.

Reaching the bottom of the ramp was an incredible relief, even more so as it would take over the task of me having to balance while near to collapse. It would compensate for an old sod like me with knees almost buckling and air not going fast enough into gasping lungs. The ramp took a hold of my feet and I was carried upwards at a speed faster than that of John, reaching the top before him. This was something new; the ramp had adjusted our relative speeds according to how much help we needed.

  A quick glance down as we had reached the top did not reveal to me what may have been happening. I guess that I didn’t really care as I was swiftly deposited into the interior, trying hard to find my feet, followed closely by John. The ramp closed behind us, tight and seamlessly, into the construction of the hull.

Ivan was at the controls in an instant. I staggered towards and then slumped into a seat behind him, trying to recover in the prevailing cool interior of the craft. My lungs were still heaving at that last short run. The sweating was made worse by the cool air in here and I was sitting in a wet pool as it poured off my face and body. John joined me, sitting alongside with a big smile on his face, although the exhaustive tramping through the humid forest had also taken its toll on him, albeit to a much lesser extent. The cool interior was now not at all welcome; I was shivering even shaking a little.

“Ye Gods it’s cold in here,” I uttered out loud blaming the delicately cooled and scented interior for my hard to control shivering. Nothing changed so I just had to go with it and shut up.

Within a few seconds we were fully cloaked and Ivan had us shooting upwards into the clear blue sky towards some very high clouds. Looking down from the great height we had reached, I easily recognised the hotel sat on the edge of the beach and a short distance away the local town of Ocho Rios.

Coming from the direction of the sea we could see a very large, light grey, roughly triangular shaped craft that was not an aeroplane of any type that I had seen before. It was not at a high altitude but perhaps I was being fooled by our high vantage point. Even from this height, it was clearly very large, perhaps many times the size of this local, circular craft in which we were now seated and observing.

Despite my exhaustion and still shivering a little, I watched this strange sort of craft with interest, as did Ivan and John. It was not what I would call a ‘UFO’ shape but it was obviously something of the same sort, reducing its forward speed to a slow effortless hovering motion as it flew over and then turned in a sweeping arc to position itself facing the hotel we had just left, from the landward side.

I had definitely not seen a plane of this shape or flying performance, not even the delta wing types that it vaguely resembled; it had to be some sort of UFO type. It stopped moving completely as it reached, I guessed, the hotel perimeter, hovering stationary before tilting forwards into a downwards facing angle.

Ivan kept us still for a short period of time now that we were well above this odd shaped craft below us. We could see it but Ivan thought it most unlikely that they, whoever ‘they’ were, the aliens or the US if it was one of theirs, had a technology developed sufficiently to detect a fully cloaked craft like ours.

Suddenly flashes of orange light shot out from the leading edges of the triangle and the hotel, clearly in view and from which we had escaped only a short while previously, erupted in a series of massive explosions. We felt the shock waves even at this height, thousands of feet above.

The scene was replayed a second, a third and a further fourth time with pieces of debris, people or surely both, flung in all directions out of the dark, expanding, explosive clouds with each percussive orange impact. Then just as it seemed that this hellish sight had come to an end, it started again with a much-increased fury as flash after flash and explosion after explosion seemed never ending.

Then at last it stopped and the all encompassing grey smoke was moved away by the gentle warm breeze coming off the sea. All that had been the hotel, the pool, the bars and all those nice people resting on the sun beds, cooling in the pool, drinking at the bar, eating a light snack or drinking an afternoon coffee were now dead, obliterated, vaporised or blown into some of the pieces I had seen flying through the air.

The whole area now presented a surrealistic nightmare of a twisted mess of unrecognisable steel, blackened heaps of concrete, ashes and presumably, many body parts.

I sat numb as the realisation of what I had just witnessed, slowly sank in. I managed to hold back the sickness building inside and was now shaking for real at the horror before me.

“They couldn’t find you or us, Ian,” John spoke in a very calm, serious most unsmiling manner, “so they removed everything and everyone, to ensure that if we were hiding somewhere, we would all be taken out of the equation. That’s how serious current events have become.”

“What kind of people could do this,” I managed to stutter through the chilling numbness. “Murder several hundred to kill three, or perhaps, only one, me? That’s obscene, it’s sick.”

I found that my mental talent had turned itself on almost automatically, perhaps from the horror of the scene and I was not being admonished for it.

Ivan did not chide me now but shot us upwards again into the high clouds where he paused. Why we might use the clouds for cover, as I thought we were, when the craft was fully cloaked I didn’t understand.

“Because,” explained Ivan reading my thoughts again which I had managed somehow to keep down to some sort of reduced volume. “The amount of water moisture present here actually assists in masking most detector system signals. Not what you know as radar, that’s a human tool easily detected and avoided, but what we believe the aliens may have. We’re still not too sure exactly what they do possess, but good habits are good habits.”

Ivan directed the craft away, not in the obvious easterly direction, but westward, the long way round the world. It was also obvious that we were following a high-speed zigzag pattern. If I viewed anything through the window, outside, I felt nauseous straight way, especially now, from the changing directions of the cloud patterns. If I looked at the floor there was no sensation of movement or change of direction and I felt calmingly normal, as much as I could while my nerves and body twitched and shuddered still in some state of shock.

“We are going to need all the good habits,” Ivan cut back to his previous words. “We now have to stay alive and complete our intended mission. It is to be hoped that, whoever carried out that atrocity, now consider that you are dead and any risk to them that you may have posed, has been removed. If this is the case then we may be able to proceed quietly and with success, but assumptions are only assumptions, good habits can still save lives.”

He was speaking good sense but I was finding it hard to focus too clearly and the numbness from what I had witnessed and now understood, persisted.

That so many people could be murdered, as an alternative to finding one person, me, was shocking and appalling. I could only consider this as horrifying and the abhorrent action of brutal lunatics of men, or whatever, without any sort of conscience or consideration of the value of human life. In other circumstances this would be considered a war crime; perhaps such circumstances were again now upon us.

I felt guilty somehow and increasingly so, that I was still alive and had brought death to so many nice people, some of whom had been genuinely concerned for my welfare only a short time previously; the pleasant waitress offering me the wake-up juice, the elderly couple on the sun-beds enquiring after my well-being, the Canadian who helped me to my feet in the pool and the multitude of guests and staff, all now blasted into pieces or burnt to a sticky ash.

I remained silent for the remainder of the journey back to the base and concentrated hard on not throwing up. I was unable, however, to stop the tears sneaking out and running down my cheeks. Rubbing my eyes I realised that I was not wearing my glasses but still able to focus through the smarting sensation.

John placed an arm round my shoulder and I resisted the urge to shrug it off.

My emotions were scattering and I desperately worked hard to maintain some sort of focus.

“You once wore a uniform in the service of your country and you’re an Englishman. You must maintain a stiff upper lip, come what may, get on with it.”

“What a stupid thought, you big oaf. Get real; real men do cry and have to get over their issues.”

I remained quiet, steadied myself and let the tears come.