Chapter 12 – Change of Scene

THE POLICEWOMAN was very kind and sat next to Jacqui, allowing her to sob on her shoulder. Jacqui was too shaken to use the phone; besides, her throat was so dry that she could barely speak. Meanwhile, the other officer offered to phone Adam. And within minutes, so it seemed, Adam was at her side and giving her a hug. This was some comfort. Seeing that Jacqui was no longer alone, the police officers tactfully took their leave.

Once Jacqui had composed herself somewhat, Adam helped her to collect some essential belongings, and guided her to his car. Within minutes, so it seemed, they were on the motorway and racing full-tilt towards Nottingham. Fortunately there was little traffic at that time of night, and even more fortunately, as they approached the East Midlands area, much of the flooding had subsided and the motorway was now clear. They reached the hospital in the early morning while it was still dark, and almost dashed to the ward where Nathan was on life support.

Nathan looked so small and still, with all the tubes attached: almost like a doll, but there was no visible change in his general appearance and no sign of any injuries. Thelma was there, her face tear-stained, looking so different from when Jacqui had first seen her—jeans and tank-top, and no make-up—that Jacqui barely recognised her. But when she did, they embraced each other tearfully. United in grief, all their differences forgotten.

They stood watching Nathan for quite a while, waiting to see if he showed any sign of movement—but there was none. A doctor appeared, and told them that he was very sorry: it was too early to give a prognosis. Thelma whispered to Jacqui that Paul's body was in the hospital mortuary: she had already been taken to formally identify him. But Jacqui insisted on going to see him too, so they called for a nurse to conduct them to the mortuary. There, Paul seemed quite calm and peaceful: Jacqui felt his cold hand and touched his cheek, thinking of all the good times they'd had—then she sank partly into Thelma's arms and partly into Adam's, and burst into convulsive sobs. She realised that, for all his faults, for all his deceits, she had really loved him all the time...

They remained by Nathan's side for most of the day, hoping against hope for some change. Jacqui tried to phone Helen, but there was no reply. She left a voicemail. She then tried Joyce Dawson, but she could not say where Helen might be. All they could do was wait. Late in the afternoon they were shoo'd out of the ward: the doctor promising to call them immediately if there was any change.

Thelma said she could put Adam and Jacqui up in the flat she had shared with Paul, for which they were extremely grateful. They could sleep in her bed, while she would make do on the sofa. Jacqui was more or less composed now, and she agreed to phone around as many of Paul's friends and relatives who had not yet been notified, while Thelma took on the task of contacting the undertakers.

The days passed, drearily. Nathan showed no change. News reports confirmed that twenty-six people had lost their lives in the local flooding. Paul was no more than a statistic! There were forms to sign, arrangements to make, the death to be registered. The coroner agreed to Paul's remains being released for burial.

So it was on a cold, damp January morning that Jacqui, Adam and Thelma, along with Paul's parents and a few other friends and relatives, stood in a dismal cemetery watching Paul's coffin being lowered into the grave. Jacqui was wearing a sombre black dress which she had had to buy specially for the occasion, and her black coat. Thelma was similarly attired. They clung to each other as the grave was slowly filled.

They were walking back to the car when Jacqui's phone rang. It was Helen.

"So sorry I didn't call you earlier, but I'm sure you must have had much on your mind. And yes, I got your voicemail. Terribly sorry to hear the news about Paul: I can guess how you must be feeling. And poor little Nathan! Is there any change in him?"

"Not much. He moves his hand now and again, and his eyelids flutter. We're still hoping."

"Listen, Jacqui, there have been some developments at Midwich. I know it's a bad time, but I really need you there straight away."

"But—but I'm in Nottingham. I've just come from burying Paul."

"I know that, Jacqui. I wouldn't do this if it weren't really really important. But there's been a change with the Eels. They seem much more agitated. And one of my men—a corporal—did manage to make some contact with them. He heard the voices in his head, very faintly—he could hardly make anything out. But the message seemed to be 'Please bring talking woman. Please bring Jacqui'. So they're asking for you. Not me, not any of my men. You."

"But—but..."

"Please, Jacqui—please do this for us. It could be the most important thing that's ever happened on Earth. I'm sure Adam can take care of things, your end, until you return. Just tell us where the cemetery is, and stay there. We'll find somewhere to set down the helicopter. We can be with you in little over an hour."

Jacqui had run out of arguments, so she acquiesced. Thelma and Adam led her to a little chapel that stood at the edge of the cemetery, and they sat there in silent thought. Sure enough, just over an hour later they heard the buzz of an approaching helicopter. It settled down on a grassy area adjacent to the new graves. Jacqui kissed Adam and Thelma, and made her way towards Helen who was coming to meet her.

The flight took little longer than the one from London had. Jacqui guessed that this military 'chopper' was a good deal faster than civilian models, because it seemed almost no time before they were descending towards the familiar tarmac in the centre of Midwich. As usual, the jeep was waiting to transport them to Kyle Manor. Jacqui didn't stop to 'suit up': she dashed straight to the habitat still in her black coat and dress. She knew how to operate the airlock now: within seconds she was in the chamber.

The Eels were thrashing about more vigorously than she had ever seen them—leaping clean out of the water from time to time. When they sensed her presence all three focused their Trumpet-ends at her: not just Wiggy. And the message was clear:

"Our Kin have made contact with us. They approach. They may even be here. Rescue has come: we expect to be taken to our home planet. We want to thank you."

"I did very little," said Jacqui. "Just came to visit, from time to time."

"You gave us hope. You communicated with us, when there were no others to communicate with. Without you we might not have survived."

"I hardly think—"

—At that moment Jacqui suddenly stopped. She felt she was falling, with the walls of the chamber closing in upon her. Falling into a black place. But only for a moment: then the scene suddenly changed—

—She was lying on her back, on a sort of soft bed. She was no longer in the Trumpet-Eels' habitat. Instead she was in a kind of small dome bathed in a soft, reddish light. The walls appeared to be translucent but she could make out nothing through them, except at one point where a brighter light appeared to be shining—also reddish. It was warm, but the air seemed to have become a bit thinner. She could breathe reasonably easily, but wondered what had happened. She had a slight feeling of nausea. Had she fainted? And had she been moved to another room in Midwich? This dome looked like no room she had ever seen in Kyle Manor, or elsewhere, but there were many secrets she had yet to learn. But why this strange place? And what had become of Wiggy, Wally and Weeny? She felt for them as her friends: had they fainted too?

With an effort she sat up, feeling somewhat light-headed and still a bit sea-sick. Then she realised she was naked. In some indignation, she looked around. The dome floor was awash with water, just as the Eels' habitat had been. There was no window, no visible entrance, except a small tunnel like the entrance to an igloo, below the waterline and only a few inches across. Well, an Eel might get through that, but she couldn't. And where were her clothes? The only 'furniture' in the dome was the bed-like structure she'd been lying on, and an upright cylinder with some kind of hinged lid on it—possibly a commode. She stood up in the water, which was only a foot deep, and peered under the 'bed'. Nothing. She could only sit on the bed and wait.

It was about an hour, she reckoned, before anything happened. Then there was a ripple in the water, and a Trumpet-Eel appeared from the tunnel. Clearly, this was not one of her 'friends': it was darker in colour and much longer: as much as seven feet long. One of its Trumpets was clenched into a sort of fist and was clasping what looked like a clear plastic bag. With its other Trumpet it gestured towards Jacqui's face—towards her mouth in particular. Then it signed for her to take the bag. At no time had she heard any 'voice' from the creature.

Was this food? Were these creatures trying to feed her? If so, where was she? Could she possibly be on the Trumpet-Eels' home planet? She suddenly realised how light she felt. If this was another planet, was its gravity less than Earth's?

She took the bag from the Eel's Trumpet. As her hand came into contact with the flare, she felt its skin for a moment: warm and smooth, and only slightly damp. She had never touched one of the Eels before. The Eel backed away, dipped its Trumpets in some sort of salute, and vanished through the tunnel. The bag was easy to open, and contained some sort of green purée. She tasted it tentatively. Almost like spinach, she thought—not exactly exciting, but she realised how hungry she was. She finished the bagful off. As she was wondering what to do with the empty bag, she noticed that it was disintegrating in her hands: within a minute it had been reduced to fragments that fell into the water and dissolved.

"Well, that's one way of plastic-recycling," she thought. "If only our guys on Earth had invented this stuff, then perhaps our oceans wouldn't be in the mess they are..."

Continuing with the assumption that she was on a different planet, Jacqui supposed that she had been kept unconscious during the voyage, presumably by the same field as that which had caused the Midwich 'Dayout'. For how long, she wondered. She didn't feel any ill-effects, apart from the slight nausea, which was probably space-sickness due to the lower gravity—about two-thirds of Earth's.

She soon discovered that she had correctly guessed that the vertical cylinder was a commode, and she used it. She assumed one of the Eels would come to empty it, and sure enough within minutes an Eel entered: whether it was the same one, she could not tell. It deftly opened a door in the cylinder, removed the bag of waste, and replaced it with a fresh one. It all took less than a minute. Jacqui was impressed.

"Whatever else, caring for every creature comfort, you are! But I can't stay like this forever, and unlike Popeye, I can't subsist forever on spinach. And I'd really like some clothes. Yes I know it's warm, but where I come from we wear clothes."

Jacqui's monologue made no impression on the Eel, which had in the meantime slipped away through the tunnel. I must not panic, she thought. Whatever the Children were, back on Earth, these creatures seem friendly. She must bide her time: surely something would happen!

There seemed to be no day and night in this place. And the bright reddish object shining through the dome did not seem to have changed its position. Was this the planet's sun? If so, the 'day' must be a very long one. She wondered if she would ever be able to sleep in this place.

Another meal was brought, and in addition a bag of water. Jacqui had tried tasting the water surrounding her, but it was too salty to drink—though less salty than sea-water. She was grateful for the offering. The food in the bag was different—a sort of meat pâté it seemed to be. Jacqui, who was a vegetarian, found this repellent at first, but after a moment she shrugged her shoulders and set down to her 'meal'. On an alien planet all principles had to change, and it was probably not real 'meat', anyway. The water was cool, fresh and slightly sweetened, and she found it very refreshing.

The routine continued in this way, without change, for what Jacqui judged was several days. She was now fully recovered from her nausea, and had managed to get some sleep—not without difficulty. She spent much of her awake periods lying or squatting on her bed, to keep her legs out of the water. Her only exercise consisted of wading round and round the dome. Would there ever be any change? Or was she fated to spend the rest of her life like this?

Change did come. One day (by Earth's reckoning) there was a more vigorous commotion in the pool, and a much bigger Trumpet-Eel entered. It appeared to be fully twelve feet long, and could barely squeeze through the tunnel: Jacqui noted with admiration how it had folded its Trumpets in order to get through. But once inside, it coiled itself up like a rattlesnake, with one huge Trumpet raised in the air facing Jacqui. Stretched out, Jacqui realised, it would not have fitted in the dome.

Then it spoke—

—Yes, it spoke! Not 'voices in her head', like the Trumpet-Eels back in Midwich. This was genuine sound-waves, speaking perfect English, evidently produced from some kind of diaphragm in the Trumpet-bowl. The voice was masculine in pitch, and slightly musical.

"Welcome to our planet, Jacqui. Here, maybe, your questions will be answered. And ours, too."