THE BUZZ

by
Nicholas James Wigginton


CHAPTER ONE

	Davey ran out of the petrol station with a box full of cigarettes, sweets and soft drinks; gun in hand. 
"Put your foot down!" he yelled as he leapt inside the car.  The Jaguar XJ6 roared up and off we sped down
the hard shoulder of the motorway, not caring where our next destination would be.
	"Did ya get any money," I asked.
	"Two hundred only."
	"You didn't hurt him, did ya Davey?"
	"What the fuck am I, Blake?  Hurting the innocent isn't my way of robbing.  He was okay.  Soon as he
saw the shooter he said I could have anything.  You want a can of drink?"
	"Any orange?"
	"Here you go."
	From the first week of our new career we had made a lot of money.  The job entailed a lot of late days
cruising the motorways, hunting for the unsuspecting forecourt staff to hand over the cash.  There were
loads of suckers.  Let's face it, when you're threatened with a gun to hand over someone else's money, you
don't hesitate.  Sometimes we were tipped off by friends or acquaintances, who either worked in a station or
knew other people that did.  This made things easier, and we even gave them a few quid for their help.
	"I'll roll a spliff," said Davey flicking open the glove compartment.
	"Yeah," I replied switching on the window wipers.  It was evening, and the steel grey cloud that hovered
above us had now decided to drizzle its boring monotony on to land and sea below.  I hated wet days, it
made the atmosphere seem so morbid.
	"I got a new tip off," said Davey sticking three Rizla papers together.
	"What?" I asked, as I stared out of the window in a meditative sort of way.
	Davey continued, "There's a garage, where an old man trusts nobody and so has fifty grand stashed in a
toilet."
	My ears pricked up at this, "You're joking?"
	"No shit.  The old guy doesn't believe in banks so he keeps his life savings hidden in this toilet at the back
of his garage."
	"Yes, but it's his life savings, Davey."
	"So fucking what!  We're paying for the bastard's pension.  He's not going to be paying for ours when we
retire, you can count on that.  Taking his money is a mere pay back to what he's taken off us."
	"I see your point."
	"Look Blake, we're robbers who rob because of the system.  The dole doesn't pay us to survive, we have
to survive on our own.  Look at all the business men out there, robbing everyone, and they never get caught. 
It's time to take back what's rightfully ours.  So put your foot down my friend and lets get to this garage."
	Davey gave out the directions which led us from the motorway and on to the country lanes.  The spliff
was now being loaded by the dope master himself.  The rain was a little heavier now, the roads greasy.  A
flashing Ambulance zoomed by, obviously to an accident.  I watched all the other vehicles passing, and
thought of all our lives in tin cans, going always somewhere and ending up always nowhere.  And it was all
for one thing, money.  All our lives were run on the energy  of money.  Technology doomed our race. 
There's nothing social anymore; you can make friends on the Internet, and not have to move from your living
room chair.  The west are idle, with fat arses and sagging bellies, money their only God, and for the time
being it was ours too.  Davey lit the joint and exchanged it like a peace pipe.  He took from on top of the
dash board a piece of brown cloth and used it to polish the gun.  He was proud of his gun.  He originally
borrowed the gun from a guy in Birmingham, under a strict promise he was going to use it to kill a Nigger. 
The guy was fucking mad, Niggers weren't just black, they were also white.  Niggers are the down beat, the
people who scrape their knuckles to earn a living, and as Davey so rightfully pointed out, the working class
are the highest percentage of fucked up right wing voters.

An hour it had taken us to reach our destination.  The garage was closed, open tomorrow at 8 am.
	"Fuck, it shut at six," cursed Davey lighting a cigarette.
	"What now?" I asked reaching for his packet.
	"Look, there's an house over there, we could try it."
We jumped out of the car and walked over to the quaint little house, with its green velvet curtains in both
the top and the bottom windows.  In front was one small garden surrounded by a brown rickety wooden
fence.  A normal every day house, nothing special.
	Davey knocked on the door with a loud rap.  We heard steps start to approach and then, a bolt was
shifted, and the door slightly pulled over.
	"Yes?" came a soft female voice.
	"We wondered if you were the owners of the garage over there?" spoke Davey.  "We've ran out of petrol
and need to get home as soon as possible."
	"Hold on," returned the voice.  Another bolt was shifted and the door came open to reveal a woman who
was astoundingly beautiful.  She wore a long blue summer dress with a white cream coloured cardigan.  She
had long blond hair and dark blue eyes that were hypnotising.  She stood 5'8 on average. 
	"Do you own the garage?" asked Davey.
	"My grandpa does," she turned to me and smiled a smile that would melt any man's heart and, most
probably had.  She went inside and shouted her grandpa to the door.  A few minutes passed when a short,
frail old man with a grey balding head came into focus.
	"Evening, lads, what can I do you for?"
	"We've ran out of petrol, can you help?" asked Davey.
	"Well, I'm very strict on reopening this time of night, lads," he replied reaching into his pocket for a set
of keys.
	"Go on gramps," said the little heart breaker, exchanging my stares with a sly wink.
	"Okay," he said.  Me and Davey followed the old man and his grand-daughter over to the garage.  We
lagged a little way behind for me to grab Davey's attention.  "Not this one, Davey."
	"Why not?"
	"It's not right."
	"You're not getting the hots for that bird, are ye, Blake?"
	"No, I just think we should leave it, that's all."
	The old man unlocked the station door and turned on the pumps.  "There you go, lads, fill her up." 
Davey hopped in the motor and parked it next to a filler, he signalled for me to do the rest.
	"Blake, listen," said Davey winding down the window.  "Fifty grand, it's not to be taken lightly."
	"Davey, we said when we started, we'd only rob the people that can afford to be robbed.  Look at this
place, it's falling down.  There isn't any money here."
	"Are you going fucking soft on me?"
	"I think we should stick to our normal routine."
	Davey pondered for a few seconds, his stare fixed on me; "Okay Blake, you're probably right.  She ain't
half a pretty girl though, eh!"
	"I haven't noticed."
	"Don't give me that bollocks."
When the pump clicked off, I replaced the petrol cap and stepped over the island to pay.  The girl came out
to greet me whilst Davey was busy playing with the car stereo.
	"Where are you driving?" she asked.
	"London," I replied, not too sure of where we were going.
	"Do you live there?"
	"No, I wouldn't live there, it's a rat hole."
	She paused and pondered in thought.  "Before you go, why don't you and your friend stop for a coffee." 
My eyes lit up like a constellation.  This adorable, beautiful girl was inviting us in for a coffee, fuck!  I wasn't
going to miss this opportunity by saying sorry, but I'm afraid we have more pressing engagements, no way, I
walked over to the Jag and said to Davey: "We're going for a coffee."
	"Where?"
	"With these."
	"Oh, fucking hell, Blake."
	"Shut up and be polite."
Davey drove over to the house, I walked back with gramps and his grand-daughter.
	"What's your name?" I asked.
	"Julia."
	"Not bad."
	"It's awful, I hate it."
	"Okay, it's awful, I've never been one for arguing."
	When we arrived back at the house, the old man went in first followed by Julia, then me.  Davey entered
a couple of minutes later after checking the motor's engine oil.
	"Take a seat," said gramps, hobbling over to the kettle.
	"You got a bad leg, pa?" asked Davey in a cheeky manner.
	"Wooden leg, son, real one was blown off in the war."
	"Must be hard for ye?"
	"I'm use to it now."
	Julia pulled out three chairs from under the table, and ordered us to sit down.  We now sat opposite each
other which was fine by me, I wanted to take in her beauty for as long as possible.  But as I faced her, her
smile seemed to change into a look of embarrassment, as if she'd done something wrong.  I turned away, but
still I kept taking the odd glance.  At a guess I'd say she was in her late twenties, with a complexion that
seemed so soft and delicate.  But there was something far deeper to her than this.  A nervous reaction sent
signals around my body.  She was too distant to get close.  Her eyes that shone a sparkling blue were now
glazed with a light film, I thought maybe tears, but she showed no sign of being emotional.  Contact lenses? 
Maybe.
	" You want tea or coffee boys?"
	"Coffee please."
	I gazed once again at Julia, I noticed there wasn't a wrinkle on her face.  Even when she smiled the
laughter lines disappeared without trace.  Whatever face creams she used, worked a treat.
	"How long have you been in the garage game for?" Davey asked.
	"Twenty years now," replied the old man.
	"What did you do before that?"
	"I worked in electronics."
	"Good job," chirped Davey.
	"It used to be."
	"Why did you pack it in?" asked Davey pouring out the water into four plain red mugs.
	"My daughter died from cancer."
	"Sorry to hear that," said Davey.
	"When she died I lost it.  I hit the bottle badly, and gradually began to lose everything I'd ever worked
for.  Then one day it happened, I just snapped out of it, and managed to start afresh.  I had enough money
saved so I bought this place, and carried on with my work."
	"In electronics?" interrupted Davey.
	"Yes.  In the study of electronic and mechanical instruments, compared to biological systems.  You see,
before I was fired, I'd made a scientific breakthrough with these mechanisms."
	"Are you saying you're an inventor?" inquired Davey.
	The old man refrained from answering and so continued like before:
	"It took me twenty two years to create."
	"What is it?" pried Davey again.
	Old gramps paused, looked at each of us and spoke: "The Buzz."
	"The Buzz," we replied at once.  "What's that?"
	"That's the name I gave it after the first noise it ever made."
	"Grandpa," spoke Julia, "do you think you should be telling them all this?"
	"Quiet, dear.  I'm sure these two lads are interested."
	We shook our heads in approval.
	"For me, grandpa, could we leave it until after our drinks?"
	"Very well, my dear.  We'll leave it for the time being."
	"Can we see the Buzz?" asked Davey.
	"Let's wait, shall we."
	The old man brought over our drinks, and then we all entered into a discussion on family values, the idea
of marriage, and relatives we hadn't seen in many years.  The conversation was merely pub talk.
	After we had finished our drinks, the old man decided enough was enough of that, he collected all of the
mugs together and placed them in the sink ready, no doubt, for Julia to wash and dry.
	"Come with me," he said hobbling over to an open door, leading I supposed into his study, or laboratory,
or whatever it was these people liked to call it.  I followed, looking round at Julia again.  She caught my
eyes and returned a look that would make any man stand proud.  We left her to her kitchen chores, and went
with gramps through a door way that led to a set of stairs.  "Please, follow me," he said treading stubbornly
onto the first step.
	"Fucking Frankenstein," said Davey in pursuit.
	"Quiet, he'll hear us."
	The staircase seemed to be out of place for a house like this.  It was now getting eerie for me, and the
thought of what we'd find old gramps up to, excited me, but at the same time, frightened me.
	"Not far now," said the old man turning his head and smiling at us in a way only a vulture could when
attacking its prey.  He was taking us into the abyss of the unknown, and all we could do was follow.
	We reached the bottom of the stairs and found ourselves in front of an old oak door.  Gramps sorted
through a bunch of keys: "Ah!  Found it."
	He pushed the key into its home and twisted.  As he opened the door a waft of damp and dry rot and
plenty of dust swept up my nostrils, making me sneeze furiously upon entering.                           A light then
flashed on, and all three of us stood in a gaping mouth.
	"It's a cave," said Davey flicking away the hair from his eyes.
	"Correct," replied the old man.
	It may be a cave, I thought, but there was absolutely nothing in it.  It was completely empty.  The light
bulb of course was of a low wattage, so parts of the cave remained in a shadow-like daze.
	"Where's the Buzz?" asked Davey; and that for my part was the last thing I remember.  A tiredness ran
about my body I couldn't overcome, no matter  how I tried.  The exhaustion was overpowering.  I'd been
okay earlier on, I'd slept well the night before.  There was no cause for me to feel this way.  But it got
heavier and heavier.  My vision began to blur, and Davey and the old man now became four, standing,
staring into me.  I stumbled onto part of the wall.  My stamina to stand upright was failing me, I had to
sleep.  I felt my knees start to give and with it my body.  I slouched to the ground with a heavy crash,
banging the full frontal of my face on the concrete floor.  I could feel blood rushing from my nose, but I was
helpless to stop it, my eyes resisted no more, and in darkness 
I entered.
CHAPTER TWO

	When I came around, shock hit me with a cold sweat, and rattled nerves.  My situation was less than
bearable.  Fitted to both my wrists were rusty metal cuffs, that pressed together so tight, the blood had
drained from my hands, leaving me with a numbing sensation.  From these ran thick link chains bolted to the
heavy wall; I shook them in hysterics, what the fuck was going on here?  Keep calm!  I told myself.  In
emergencies you have to keep calm, but calmness was a long time in coming as I rattled the chains in the
hope they'd shake loose.  But did they?  After a few minutes of working myself up into a panic I gave up,
there was no way of shifting them.  I inhaled a few deep breaths and tried desperately to pull myself
together.  Naturally my thoughts turned to Davey, he wasn't anywhere to be seen, and that frightened me all
the more.  Where was he?  Tears welled up in my eyes, but in the face of death, if that's what it was, I wasn't
going to die crying.  They weren't going to break me down like that, no fucking way.  I held back the tears
and my emotions dwindled.
	It was the coffee, they'd drugged the fucking coffee.  I remember now the bitter taste it had on my throat,
I assumed it was just the brand they were using, what a fool.  The two of them had tricked us with their
helpfulness and sincerity; never trust sincerity, bastard gets everybody fooled that way.
	After twenty of so minutes I heard the stairs creak with footsteps.  I didn't know if I should pretend to be
asleep or not, so I closed my eyes with a slight gap to see who it was.  The footsteps stopped, and the door
was pushed open.  In the shaded light walked Julia, with a tray in her hands; it contained what looked to be
food and in a glass, orange juice.
	"Are you awake?" she asked bending down before me.  Did I lie and pretend I was?
	"You're awake, I can tell."
	I flicked open my eyelids.
	"I knew you weren't asleep," she said, sending me that same self satisfied smile, the one that got us into
this mess.
	"Where's Davey?"
	"Your friend? Oh now, let me think, yes!  I know where he is."
	"Where?" I yelled.
	"He's with grandpa, in the laboratory."
	"For what?"
	"Oh Blake, you are silly.  Don't you remember anything?  Your friend wanted to."
	"I want to see him," I asked impatiently.
	"You can't at the moment, Blake, he's busy having the Buzz fitted."
	"Buzz.  What fucking Buzz?"
	"You'll see.  Don't worry, you'll get your turn.  Look, I brought you some food."
	"I don't want any."
	"Why not, Blake?  You must be hungry, you've been out for two days."
	"What?!"
	"I must say you're a heavy sleeper."
	"And how can I eat chained like this?" I asked in a sorrowful tone.
	"No problem, I'm here to feed you."
	I wanted to ask the question why I was here, like this, but a lump in my throat refrained me from doing
so.  Julia was the only person who could help me right now, I had to work on her.  I glanced into her eyes
and said: "Okay, I am hungry."
	"That's it, Blake, of course you are," replied Julia shovelling up a fork full of mashed potatoes, and half a
fish finger, guiding it steadily into my mouth.
	"Very nice," I said.
	"Like you, Blake, you're nice."
	"Tell me," I asked, "have you a boyfriend?"
	"No, no, Blake, pa wouldn't allow that.  He's very possessive is pa.  Doesn't like the thought of other
men around me.  I have to take care of him in his old age.  He isn't getting any younger, you know."
	"None of us are," I mumbled.
	"Sorry?"
	"Nothing."  I was quietly searching for words, trying to find a way of breaking through, it was no easy
task, I've never been good at sweeping women off their feet.  The only words I could muster up was: "Why
don't I take you out sometime?"
	"I can't, Blake, I already told you."
	"He doesn't have to know.  He's held you back all your life, it's time to stand up and face facts, you're
wasting your life here.  We could go any place you wanted to go."
	"Well, I've always fancied Canada."
	"Then we'll go," I jumped, slow down, don't rush her.  If it's one thing a woman hates, it's being rushed.
	"Really, are you sure?" she asked looking inquisitively at me.
	"We could go tonight."
	"Tonight!" a smile broke, and her face began to beam.
	"You just have to release me, that's all."
	At this point I began to wonder about what I'd said coming out too fast.  Should I have left it until later? 
But later was no good to me or Davey.
	"Tonight," she repeated.
	"Free me, Julia, and I promise you, tonight."
	If she knew I was bullshitting I would of expected uncertainty in her eyes, but there wasn't any, and that
was good enough for me.  I wasn't even blaming the girl for what was happening, she was like the rest of us,
misguided.  Her grandfather was the mad professor, not her.  She was as innocent as they came, led to
believe that this was a natural thing to do, enchant men with her loving grace, and then have them chained to
a cellar wall.  How many had passed by here before?  I had to get out of here, grab Davey, then run for the
Jag.
	"What are you thinking about?" she asked, wiping the sweat from my brow.
	"You.  How nice it would be, just me and you in Canada."
	"You're very romantic, Blake."
	I was adding to the picture best as I possibly could.  These were getting to be corny lines, that an average
girl would shoulder away, then tell you, you are a complete arsehole.  But this girl was sheltered, she didn't
know when the corny lines were being broken; she took my words every inch of the way.
	"What do you say?" I said, hoping and praying for my freedom.
	"Well," she went silent, it wasn't going to work.  She wasn't that gullible.  I should of waited, eased my
way in instead of acting like a bull at a gate.  "I'll have to get the keys."
	I was wrong, it had worked, she'd fallen into my trap, "Go quickly," I replied in haste.  "And we can be
off."  With that she started on her way.
	An air of anxiety leapt upon me while l waited.  I hadn't any idea if night or day was outside, there was
no telling, not even what time it was.  And Davey, what state would I find him in?  He was my best friend,
we'd shared everything together, we were blood brothers, and to think of him having the Buzz fitted, made
me panic all the more.  I felt for his safety more than my own.
	There are many things that go through a persons mind when they're held against their will.  Religion
came into mine; should I pray to God?  Was he real?  Was my faith strong enough?  A sudden childish
emotion came to me, like I was five or six years of age, and had just fallen and hurt my leg, crying out for
my mother, whom at most times would come to my aid and rub my poorly leg, giving me the affection that
mothers generally do.  I wanted her now, to hold me before death came stalking.  Julia had to hurry before
good old gramps came to fix me up the way most scientists like to work on rabbits and guinea pigs.
	I waited these minutes out as if a ticking clock was sounding out the death march.  The cave seemed to
echo with my breathing, I tried to slow it down, but however much I tried the hangman was slowly pulling
on his gloves.
	I was cold now, my back ached with the chill, and for a humorous moment I guessed I'd come down with
the flu or something.  It was a stupid thought, I was clenching hold of freedom by a piece of lengthy cotton,
that was so taught it was going to snap under the strain.
	Footsteps!
	Yes, I heard them coming.  Footsteps breaking the silent echo.  Not long now and I am going to be free;
and to fuck with robbing.  After me and Davey are out of here, it's gonna be, so long bad times, hello
straight road.  No more crime, what goes around comes around.  I'll be a good boy from now on, you can
count on that, Lord God, Jesus, Mary, and all the fucking pilgrims.
	Nearer and nearer the steps came.
	The door knob twisted.  I could smell freedom waiting for me.  The door sprang open and in Julia
toppled, losing her balance, landing in a pile on the floor.  Her face looked at me with eyes filled with a deep
desperation.
	"What!" I yelled.  She turned her attention towards the door.
	"You little bastard," said gramps, in all of his limping glory.  "Tried to turn her against me, did you, boy. 
I don't hold with bad boys, they have to be treated with accordingly."
	"Where's Davey?" I shouted.  He was an old man, but I'd beat the shit out of him if I was let free.
	"Thought you could take her from me.  Have your way with my daughter."
	Did I hear him correctly, did he say daughter?  He told us that his daughter had died from cancer, surely
he'd slipped his words.
	"My one and only daughter," he'd said it again, but how can that be?
	He brought from behind his back what looked to be a horse whip.  He hobbled over to my side, I wasn't
able to move so the pain he inflicted on my face gore the flesh.  Blood had shown itself again, and the pain
stung.  Words of anger were on the verge of slipping from my lips, but I kept them at bay, my anger was
needed for other things.
	"Where's Davey?" I asked again.
	"Your friend," he replied as he gradually bent down to face me.  I could smell his breath, the stench of
cannibals and tramps and Hell.  He wore a pale blue shirt with sweat patches on both sides.  He'd been at
work all right, but at what?  His karky trousers had splashings of dried blood stains on the legs.  I gulped
down that lump again, tiresome as it was, it wouldn't allow itself to disappear.
	"Scared are you, boy?" he said in a growled sort of tone.
	He thrashed the whip again across my face, if I was expected to take this for hours on end I'd be no use
to man or beast.  But this wasn't going to be for long, he was working me up towards his mad desires, so
pain would be the least of my worries.
	"I hate people like you," he said throwing down the whip.  "I hate youth in men, wicked little shits. 
Think you've got the answer to everything, but you know nothing except your erections."
	I thought on these words, and wondered if any of us really knew anything.  Did this man know anything? 
If he did, it wasn't care and concern for another's being.
	"You'd like to get out of those chains," he continued, looking at me for an answer.  Yes, I'd like that very
much, gramps, because the company around here is beginning to shit the life out of me.
	"Speak, boy!"
	"Have I a choice?"
	"Everybody has a choice."
	"Then, yes."
	"Ah, you would now."
	He was right, I would.  I wanted out fast.  And with them last words spoken, he turned his aged body to
Julia, who was busy dusting herself down.
	"Over here, girl," he ordered.  She walked over handing him a single gold key.  "I don't want it, girl," he
pointed to the locks on each of my arms, "open them for him."  She carried out the orders; and whilst she
freed me, gramps took a few paces back and pulled out from inside his trouser pocket, a gun.  "Don't want
you getting any ideas now," he remarked.
	There were two things I could do now, play the hero and rush him before he had time to pull the trigger,
but I guessed his reaction would be quicker than mine, and I didn't want to start getting riddled with bullets
at this point.  The second thing was to let them take me to the laboratory and find a way out then.  And after
staring at the gun thrust towards my head, it suddenly dawned on me that this was Davey's gun, I'd know it
anywhere, with its scuffed barrel revealing the dull metal beneath.  That's why I went for the second option,
because I knew something the old inventor didn't; in that gun contained a round of blanks.  Okay, they'd
make a good ricocheting noise when fired, but that was all.
	"Hands on your head."
	It felt like the last rights had been finally read out, and I was now a condemned man to fall by the rope.  I
placed my hands on my head and followed Julia to a door that had been hidden out of sight by the dim lit
cave.  Gramps was at the back of me limping and cursing his disability.
	"Hurry," he said.
	And through the door I walked.
CHAPTER THREE

	On my first viewing it was just another cave, a little larger than the other.  All except, this held equipment
far removed from anything I'd ever seen in my life.  Stretched around the cave wall were large machines,
monitoring, clicking and humming.  Blue metal machines with red and yellow lights flashing on and off. 
Long black cables running from end to end.  It was like Davey had said, Fucking Frankenstein, ironic really.
	"Go on," said gramps pushing the barrel of the gun into the small of my back.  Forward I moved, slowly
and unsurely.  The more steps I took, the more my heart became visible in my mouth.  I could see nothing of
Davey, though to my left hand side, some kind of alcove came in to view.  It was like an extension of the
cave, breaking free from the rest of the area.  To tell you in great detail the outlay of this cave-come-
laboratory, would take me too long to explain.  All I can say is, it was exactly how you'd find a laboratory
with a mad professor at the helm.
	Soon I found myself drifting towards the alcove.  I could feel a presence, I braced myself by gripping my
fingers into fists.  I found myself hyperventilating, my heart rate on overdrive.  And the feeling became
stronger.  As I rounded the corner, I was like a video machine on pause.  I stared, unable to unattach myself
from the sight that lay before me.  I wanted to scream but I'd lost all my vocals like in a nightmare.  I
clutched my fingers tighter and began to walk nearer.  The sight of Davey lying naked upon a bench not
moving set thoughts of death springing, rebounding inside my head. It wasn't until I got closer that I saw hell
had been at work.  Davey had been slit open from throat down to groin, and then each side of his waist.  His
skin was flapped open like the opening of a paper back book laid upon its spine.  His rib cage was clearly
visible, china white.
	My feet moved again and again, I was on slow forward.  It seemed like minutes before I reached him, but
it was only seconds.  I stared down inside his gaping hole.  The shock that I'd first encountered, now
absorbed the second that I was now witnessing.  My jaw hung open as my breathing persisted to dizzy me. 
Davey had been gutted, nothing of heart, lungs, kidneys, stomach et cetera.  All his innards were gone, like
the gutting of the family turkey.  Nerves twitched in my feet, I was shaking, I had to keep control.  For what
I saw inside Davey is beyond all doubt and scepticism.  Drilled to the inside of his rib cage were two solid
metal plates, mounted to these was a large oblong shaped box containing two split circuit boards, playing
host to a number of modules and micro chips, soldered to different coloured wires, red, blue, green, purple,
all the colours of the world, tied together in large bundles.  The compatibility between this mass of wires and
the human veins were very much alike.  It reminded me of looking into the back of my radio cassette player.
	Tears dripped from my eyes on to Davey's colourless face.  He looked like a sleeping child, resting after a
good meal.  His lips had gone pale, losing the rose red colour the girls were so fond of.  His short black hair
was brushed back over his head with hair lotion that brought a shine to flower.  I had to admit that this was
Davey in the most beautiful of images I'd ever yet to see of him.  And my tears kept falling.  I wiped them
from his face.
	I turned to face the inventor: "What have you done to him?"
	"Your friend," he replied, "has found immortality."
	I smoothed my hands over Davey's forehead.  "You've made him a fucking Robot."
	He smirked.  "I prefer to call him cybernetic."
	I screamed.  The violence in me was like a gas boiler ready to blow.
	"He will forever be young," continued gramps.
	"It isn't right," I replied, "you can't do this to people."
	"Oh, but I already have.  Your friend has succumbed to my advice, and has kindly donated his body to
science."
	"Against his will," I said.
	"I am a creator of life."
	"How can a person be a creator of life if he has to destroy it first?"
	"Open your eyes!" he shouted.  "Look and see what I've done to your friend.  He will never grow old."
	"But you've murdered him.  Everything he ever was has gone.  You're nothing but a fake."
	"No!" he yelled.  His face changed to anger, I'd hit a nerve this time.  He poised the gun in the direction
of my heart.  Julia patted her hand on his shoulder to calm him, he nudged her off.  "I'm in control, girl, leave
me."  She walked back methodically and twisted her body from him.
	The picture was forming, "Julia's one, isn't she?"
	"Of course she is, I brought her back from the dead.  You see how beautiful she is.  She's mine. She owes
me, like your friend here."
	"But why?  If you hate youth so much, why bother?"
	"The old are worthless.  Youth has strength and beauty on its side.  And besides all that, I want to
conquer youth.  I want to lead youth from the fruits of temptation.  They need to be educated, and I for one
aim to be the teacher."
	I rejected his hypocrisy with a shake of my head.  That's when it happened a hand gripped my arm,
squeezing.  I turned back instantly, and there he was, Davey, with his eyes faintly open.  "Blake," came the
barely audible voice.  His hand pulled me forward, I leant over, "Go," came the whisper.
	"I can't leave you, Davey,"
	"Go."
	The old professor heard these words, he began to laugh, "Go, Blake."
	"You're a sarcastic bastard," I replied.
	I bent down further and kissed Davey on the cheek, "I love you, mate."  He managed to give a nod.
"Go," came from his quivering lips once more.  The old man still riddled with laughter had pissed me off
beyond any recognisable control.  I ran at him as fast as I could.  He saw me and hurriedly reacted by letting
loose a shot in his defence.  An astonished look came about him, had the shot gone wide?  As I came upon
him, a punch flew out from my right, taking him to the floor.  A barrage of blows I pounded into his
deceased head.  He tried to block them but it was effortless.  I raised myself from his body and dealt a
number of kicks into his head and abdomen.
	"Stop it!" screamed Julia.
	But I couldn't.  This bastard had killed my friend.  My mind said kill him, kill him for what he is.  And I
found it hard to resist such a temptation.
	After a few minutes I stopped, his body was busily convulsing on the floor.
	"You've killed him," said Julia dropping to the old man's side.  I gazed once more at Davey and, ran.
	When I got outside I scampered over to the Jag, the keys were still in the ignition, I span the engine and
off I went down the motor-way.  After a few miles I pulled over on to the hard shoulder, and began to dump
everything we'd robbed.  I then drove off again this time to the local police station. 
	It was the worst thing I could have done.  Instead of taking down a statement and offering me a cup of
sweet tea, they instead decided to call a doctor.  When he arrived I disclosed the same information whilst he
gave me the once over medical.  And at the end of this, you know what he got the Boys in Blue to do? 
Drive me to a local hospital for the mentally ill.
	And here I've been for the last five years, unable to speak to anyone, not even one phone call have I been
allowed to make.  I asked myself time and time again, was it possible that my family didn't care?
	But somebody did.
	Last week an old friend of mine, Mickey Jones, tracked me down.  He was a journalist working for a
local newspaper.  He'd detected me through the police computer, his wife being a police officer, so there is
luck out there after all.  He told me my friends and family had given up with the normal police channels, and
had asked Mickey for help, which he was quite willing to do.  But to stop any alarm bells ringing, he
refrained from telling my family that he'd found me until he could find a way of getting me out himself.  He
told me to write my account of this whole horrorful affair down for him.  This I've been doing all week.  If
he can prove my story, I hope to be released by next week, he was very sure about this.
	Since my five years of being held against my will here, I have taken to praying to God.  I am very
religious.  Whether this is through my own ideas or the hospital's system of plying their patients with a set
amount of hard drugs.  I have recently changed in appearance and mind.  The nurse comes to me regular,
and provides me with a tray of two blue capsules, three times a day.  Recently I have been able to disguise
my swallowing by hiding the pills under my tongue, she's been non the wiser, and that's how I've managed to
write this story down.
	I think of Davey everyday, he's never out of my thoughts, I do miss him badly, and I cry over what has
happened to us both, most nights.
	I am expecting Mickey at any time now.  He's gone to check out the garage with his camera, to prove my
sanity.  I am anxious for his arrival.  I can't wait to walk out into the fresh air again and thank the heavens
for life.
CHAPTER FOUR

	I sit here twitching my fingers, marking off the days since Mickey last came.  Three hundred and sixty six
days so far, a year and one day.  But I know he hasn't forgotten me, he'll come, I'm sure of it


The End