Chapter 48
Hello everyone. I have now finally managed to finish the third instalment of the latest adventure, so present it to you in a creamy swirl atop a crunchy cone and with a chocolate flake sticking out at a jaunty angle. Please feel free to lick away or go at it with your teeth if you are so inclined - just be careful of brain freeze. On a separate but related matter I note that if was one year ago last week that I decloaked on a certain mumsnet thread and the rest as they say is history. Thank you all for the welcome you gave me then and your support of my writing since. You are all brilliant.
The crowd was the biggest yet, at least a thousand strong, Anatoly guessed. As the zombie group's tour bus pulled up at the venue the mass of people surged forward, knocking over the metal barriers and causing the police in attendance to link arms and hold the line against the throng in an effort to keep them back. The zombies were ushered quickly through the stage door by their ever present minders but the frenzy continued long after they had disappeared, the fans chanting the words 'Z Factor, Z Factor' in their excitement.
Anatoly lingered by the entrance for a time listening to the sound. He was particularly proud of the bands name, which had been his idea. It was based, of course, on the famous British singing competition, of which Anatoly was a huge fan, and was particularly apt given the aura which was building around the band, driven by the unique nature of its members. It was also much better than the other names offered; which had included 'The Fundead' and 'Rocker-Motris'.
The television executive shook his head and smiled to himself. He had to admit that he had been very nervous about accepting the band as the country's entry into Eurovision but things were now looking very promising indeed. People were genuinely fascinated by the zombies and their story which in turn was generating huge publicity. In addition the song they had produced for the competition was proving to be a smash, receiving high levels of air play not only in Russia but across Europe and the world.
Of course no one had the first idea what they were singing about but that didn't seem to matter. In fact it helped to increase the popularity of the song since people drew their own conclusions as to what all the groaning and moaning was about. What counted was that the thing had a beautiful melody and, whatever the guys were singing about, they were doing it with genuine feeling.
However, despite this, Anatoly was unable to shake a lingering feeling of unease when he was around the band. He could not quite put his finger on the cause of his disquiet, since the boys seemed harmless enough in the time he had spent with them. In fact all they seemed to do when they were not performing was stare into space or munching quietly on the raw meat provided for them. Glukov had assured him that this was the way they had behaved since their discovery and there was no reason to suggest it would change in the future. These assurances had also seemed to satisfy the European Broadcasting Union officials and representatives of the Swedish organisers who had assessed the suitability of the band for competition a few weeks ago.
Anatoly flexed his shoulders as if trying to physically cast off his doubts but they were like an itch he couldn't quite reach. He couldn't help thinking that part of the issue was the zombies very passiveness. He had spent a lot of time around young performers and they had one thing in common, they buzzed with as much energy and life off stage as they did no it, as if at any moment they could leap up and start entertaining. He did not get that feeling with the Z Factor who only seemed to become animated when they were singing. In fact Anatoly had secretly started to call the band the Zzzz Factor during their down times and was glad that a strict policy of no interviews had been imposed by Glukov and his people.
Anatoly also reflected that his unease may also be due to the impact of the bands selection on the other singers on his shortlist. At the time he had been particularly concerned about how the front runner, Vasily, would react to the decision. He had summoned the boy to his office to break the news in as gentle a way as possible, knowing that this latest in a long line of disappointments would hit the lad hard and that he would probably need a fatherly arm around the shoulder and a few well chosen words of condolence and encouragement.
So it was that Anatoly had sat the boy down and gently explained what had happened before going on to reassure him that this was just a temporary setback and that Vasily had a glittering career in front of him. The lad had listened in silence until Anatoly had finished then stared up at his mentor with tears brimming in his eyes and his bottom lip quivering. The television executive, anticipating the boy dissolving into hopeless sobs, had moved to catch him up in a consoling embrace. However instead, Vasily had launched into a tantrum of heroic proportions which commenced with a string of truly filthy oaths, moved onto the throwing of various portable elements of office equipment and ended with a display of foot stomping, clothes rending petulance which would have put Elton John to shame.
After overcoming his initial shock, Anatoly had looked on impassively as the boy vented his spleen and, once the anger was spent, he did the only thing which a mature, experienced, understanding father figure could do, which was throw the ungrateful little shit out of his office with clear instructions never to darken his door again.
Since then the boy had tried to contact him by various means, including a sustained twitter campaign. However, as a senior television executive, Vasily was well used to being on the receiving end of continuous streams of inane ramblings from the sad, the mad and the bad, bleating on about recommissioning one particular series or another. He had simply blocked Vasily's account and let him get on with his uber hissy fit in his own time.
Anatoly blew out a breath then took a final look out at the crowd, who showed no sign of dispersing. He then turned and walked into the venue as the haunting strains of the zombies hit song drifted out from the main auditorium...
James adjusted the headphones which covered his ears and moved closer to the microphone in front of him. Through a large window set into the wall opposite he could see the sound engineers tweaking various dials set into the enormous mixing deck in front of them. One of the engineers then raised his head and nodded to Dangleberries who sat at a keyboard just to the left of the Major. As the familiar opening bars of the song came through James' headphones the Major marvelled once more at the events of the previous month.
Following the revelation regarding the nature of the zombie song, James and Molly had cut their weekend leave short and returned to base. As they had driven back James filled Molly in on his conversation with Lieutenant Samuels and then went on to describe his day with his son. When he shared Rebecca's news Molly had stared at James in open mouthed astonishment.
"Had she ever mentioned fancying women before?" Asked Molly
"No, never" replied James before pausing "Well, except for some experimentation at school I recall her mentioning once when she was a bit tipsy"
"Oh well, we've all done that." Said Molly casually
"Really?" James has asked "You mean you..."
"It was just a bit of a lark around, nothing serious" replied Molly dismissively
James had licked his lips and cleared his throat "Nothing you would have videoed for posterity I suppose?" He probed hopefully
"Oi! Behave" cried Molly and slapped him playfully on the arm before asking "So, what was she like then...Rebecca's girlfriend"
"Strange" replied James "her name is Sharon and she drives a camper van. She also makes terrible onion soup which makes you fart alot...according to Sam"
"Sharon you say..." Said Molly distantly
"Yep" confirmed James
"Drives a camper van..." Pursued Molly
"A clapped out old thing" he elaborated
"It can't be..." Murmured Molly
"Is something wrong" asked James
"What?...no nothing... Sorry was thinking of something else" said Molly
James had looked across at his wife then set his jaw as he came to a decision.
"I have been thinking alot about your request you know" James admitted
"I know" smiled Molly "I could smell the burning"
James had also grinned but then grew serious and continued "I've been selfish and I'm sorry. You want to plough your own furrow and I should be supporting you."
"I'm not saying I want to become a farmer" said Molly
"What?" Queried James before realisation dawned "Ploughing your furrow is a metaphor, Molly"
"Oh" replied his wife "Is that like a euphemism?"
James reflected "Yes, it works as one of those as well...but in this instance it means you want to make your own way in the army"
Molly nodded "Yes, that's it"
"Therefore, I'm going to approve your request." James concluded
"Thank you" Molly said simply
"You are very welcome" replied James
When they had arrived back at base James had called an emergency briefing with Samuels and his NCOs..
"Are we sure that this translation is accurate?" asked James of his second in command as he glanced in distaste at a typed transcript of the lyrics
Samuels glanced at Mansfield who nodded and said "Yes sir, the accent is quite thick but Smurf and the Doc are pretty sure they've got it right"
"Its quite...graphic isn't it?" Commented James
"Oh yes sir, these ferile zombies do love their food" confirmed Mansfield
"How can they possibly let them compete when they're singing that...filth sir?" Asked Samuels
"We must assume that the Russians have no zombie speakers and are unaware of what they are saying" replied James
"But surely they can't just sing a song no one understands?" Queried Molly
"Actually" put in Kinders "You can sing in whatever language you want. You can even sing in a made up language if you like, the Belgians did it in 2003 with 'Sanomi' and in 2008 with 'O Julissi' while the Dutch sang a song partly in English and partly in an artificial language in 2006"
Everyone stared at the Sargent in stunned amazement.
"What?" He said defensively
Mansfield frowned "I never knew you were..."
"A Eurovision fan?" Finished Kinders
"Actually I was going to say gay" admitted Mansfield
"I'm not gay" shot back the Sargent
"Its not a problem if you are, you know" suggested the Corporal
"I know that but Im not, Okay?" Said Kinders
"Alright" replied Mansfield sounding wholly unconvinced
"If I could just drag everybody back to the matter in hand?" Suggested James "What worries me more than the intricacies of the Eurovision language rules is..."
"Why the zombies haven't attacked anyone yet?" Put in Molly
"Exactly" said James
"Maybe they have but the Russians are keeping it quiet" mused Samuels
"Possibly" replied James "But I would've thought that would be almost impossible given the amount of public exposure they're getting...Anyway I think we need to report in to Colonel Morley and take it from there."
James had then dismissed his troops and went to his office to compose his report to his senior officer.
A few days later Colonel Morley had ordered a video conference and James had made the appropriate arrangements, ensuring he and his key staff, including Samuels, Kinders and Mansfield Mike, were in the briefing room at the appointed time. When they called up the Colonel, the screen displayed Morley sat at a conference table with an empty chair beside him.
"Good morning sir" James had begun
"James" acknowledged Morley
"Are we expecting someone else?" Asked James referring to the vacant place.
Morley had shifted in his seat uncomfortably before responding "Special advisor"
"Oh" said James "Anyone we know"
Morley had gone to answer but before he could begin someone broke into song off camera
"My, my, at Waterloo Napoleon did surrender
Oh yeah, and I have met my destiny in quite a similar way
The history book on the shelf
Is always repeating itself"
Just then Jonathan Beck came striding into view wearing a sequined Lycra jumpsuit with huge lapels and matching platform boots.
"Bienvenue, wilkommen, welcome" cried Jonathan
"Oh God" groaned Morley
"Jonathan!" Exclaimed James "Don't tell me you're..."
"That's right baby" confirmed Beck "Sherman, being American hasn't the foggiest so I've been filling him in on the glory that is the ESC"
"Okay, okay can we get on with this" interjected Morley grumpily "James, as soon as I read your report I got your Foreign Office to have another go at the Swedes, but they aren't shifting"
"But that's madness, didn't you show them the transcript of the song?" Said James incredulously
"No, I couldnt James" admitted Morley
"Why not?" Asked the Major baffled
"Think about it James" replied Beck "They're bound to ask how we came by the translation"
James frowned then nodded. "Of course, we would have to admit that we have zombies ourselves."
"Removing their anonymity" continued Morley "And potentially drawing unwelcome attention"
"But surely the Eurovision authorities are concerned, sir?" Asked Kinders
"Apparently not" replied the Colonel "They say they have met with the zombies and are satisfied that they are completely safe."
"Can we persuade them to reduce any risk of an incident by having us on hand?" Suggested James
Morley shrugged "Believe me we've tried James, but they say deploying foreign troops on their soil would breach their neutrality. They have assured us that they will take all necessary precautions but are determined not to turn the whole event into a military operation."
James threw his hands into the air in exasperation "Then what's to be done?" He asked
Beck then leaned forward towards the camera "Well, we have looked at the Eurovision rule book and there is no help there."
"Yes, Kinders is a fan and sort of concluded the same" agreed James
"Really?" Exclaimed Beck in surprise "Sargent, Im more than delighted to discover you're gay!"
"For goodness sake, I'm not bloody gay" blustered Kinders
"Don't fight it Sarg'" muttered Mansfield Mike
"Shut up" shot back Kinders
"Anyway" continued Beck excitedly "We think we have another way"
"Oh yes?" Said James with a feeling of dread growing within him
Beck had grinned then announced "The SZS are going to be the UK entry into this years competition!" Before jumping up and down in his seat and clapping his hands
James and his troops stared at the video screen in stunned silence before the Major, almost pleadingly, turned to Morley and said "There has got to be another way"
Morley had looked sympathetically at his subordinate and shook his head "I'm sorry James but we think this is the best way to get you in"
"Charles" cut in Beck accusingly "I sense that you don't share my enthusiasm for this solution"
James raised his hands defensively "Don't get me wrong Jonathan, its ingenious, I was just hoping for something a little less..."
"Loopy?" Suggested Samuels
"Camp?" Put in Mansfield Mike
"Extreme" finished James
"Oh, where is your spirit of adventure?" Replied Beck
"Quickly evaporating" said James before continuing "But surely there is some sort of selection process?"
"Yes there is but don't worry about that, we've fixed it so you will be selected" explained Morley
"How did you manage to get the BBC to do that?" Asked Samuels
"We convinced them it was a matter of national security" replied the Colonel
"Really?" Said the lieutenant
"That, and the other entries were a bit crap" confirmed Beck
"Okay"
"And I've agreed to be a dragon on Dragons Den" continued Beck "And..."
"Yes?" Said James suspiciously
"We confirmed that you would give an exclusive interview on the Graham Norton show" he concluded
"Oh great!" Said James
"Just lie back and think of England" smiled the former major
James nodded then shrugged in resignation "So what happens next?"
Beck rubbed his hands together "You need to write a song"...
Later that same week James had met up with his EAAAR specialist to discuss the question of music.
" Right Dangles what are we looking at?" Asked James
"Well sir" replied the private "Its Eurovision so you won't need anything too complex"
"Okay" nodded James
"So you're looking at a strophic form" continued Dangleberries "with a basic verse, chorus, bridge, hook and refrain structure. The chorus will, of course, need a melodic and lyrical phrase which is repeated."
"Excellent" replied James "Is it important that I understand any part of what you just said?"
"No not really sir" confirmed the private
"Good" said James with some relief
"Let me worry about the music. What I'll need from you are some lyrics, sir" suggested Dangleberries
"Lyrics?" Repeated James
"Yes sir, the words of the song" explained Dangleberries
"I know what lyrics are private, I'm not a complete ignoramus" shot back James
"Right you are sir..." Said Dangleberries apologetically
"Its just not something they teach you at Sandhurst" admitted the Major
"If I could make a suggestion sir?" Asked the private
"Please" replied James
"Always best to write about something you know, from your life experience" said Dangleberries
"So I should write about war and getting injured then?" Suggested James
"Or maybe something more positive, remember this is Eurovision sir" pursued the Private
James frowned "OK leave it with we Dangles"
The Major had then dismissed the private and opened up his lap top "Right" he said to himself "How hard can this be?"
An hour later James continued to stare at a blank screen "Apparently extremely hard" he muttered to himself.
Just then he had been distracted by the sound of an email arriving in his in box. Desperate for a diversion he had clicked on his email icon and opened the new message. It was confirmation of Molly's transfer. She would be leaving the following week to take up an instructors post at Aldershot. James took a deep breath and stared out the window for a long time. He then turned back to his computer, clicked back into his word document and started typing.
James had handed the printed sheet to Dangleberries the following day. The private looked at the typed script on the page then started to read out loud:
"When I saw her lurching down the street
With her clawing fingers and her dragging feet
I looked into a face which was covered in snot
And thought that's a girl I could get to like a lot
She is our zombie girl
She puts me in a whirl
I want a banner to unfurl
Which says: she is our zombie girl
Her eyes are a glowing red
I just want to get her in my bed
Although raw meat is her main repast
All I want is for us to be together at last
She is our zombie girl
She puts me in a whirl
I want a banner to unfurl
Which says she is our zombie girl"
Dangleberries had looked up at his officer. James shifted uncomfortably under the unwaivering stare "You said I should write what I know so I did.."
"Well that's true" agreed the private
"So...what do you think?" Pressed James
Dangleberries scratched his chin "Well, I think it's really crap sir"
"Oh" said James
"In fact it's so crap" continued Dangleberries "That its verging on being utter genius"
"Surely it can't be that...sorry?" Asked James confused
Dangleberries had moved towards his keyboards "Ive got an idea for a melody which would fit this just right" He had then proceeded to play an upbeat melody whilst singing the lyrics on the sheet. He then started to vary the tempo to better fit the words whilst James stood and listened.
The private had paused after a few minutes and started to make some notes on the paper. "I think this will work with a four piece sir, drums, base, keyboards and lead guitar. Mansfield is quite handy with the axe and Fingers knows his way around a four string. I'll have to think about the skins though..."
"Good" said James bewildered
Dangleberries had looked across at James "Sorry sir, just leave this with me and I'll have something for you in a couple of days"
"Okay, I'll look forward to it" replied James encouragingly and beat a hasty retreat.
The day Molly left it had rained. Water had run down James neck as he held her tight on the station platform.
"Make me proud" he had whispered in her ear
"I'll try" she had replied
"And come back to me" he went on
"Don't worry, I will" she smiled
He had carried on holding her until she had patted him on the back "You know you're going to have to let me go or its going to be really awkward getting on the train"
"Sorry" he had said and reluctantly released her from his grasp.
He had stood on the platform until the train had disappeared out of site then sighed heavily and trudged back to the car in the continuing downpour.
In the days that had followed James had missed Molly terribly and he had been glad of the distraction provided by writing and arranging the song and rehearsing it ready for the recording of the first demo.
Now as he sat in the recording studio and waited for the intro to end he wondered what Molly was doing at that very moment and whether she was thinking of him. He then leaned into the microphone and started to sing:
"When I saw her lurching down the street
With her clawing fingers and her dragging feet..."