It Might as Well be String Theory (book 3 of the hexology in seven parts)
Chapter 9: Icons of the Silver Screen

Billy was late; boy was he late. His father would ground him for sure this time. Dust swirled up as a car flew past him, while the lad quickly plodded along the rural American back road that led him home.

If only Jimmy hadn’t drawn one good card after another, and held on to Asia so long. Who makes a stand in Asia, cursed Billy. But he’d won through in the end, and broke through Jimmy’s line in Kamchatka. After that it was just a matter of mopping up. Billy was the town champion at Risk, and every teen for miles around had tried their luck with him.

This time Ray went down first, not even getting a continent. And Herb closely followed, getting himself hemmed in to Australasia. Billy recalled Herb’s final sweep up. Simon never really had a chance with Africa. He had succumbed to Jimmy in a wild campaign mid game. And true to his word Billy had left Charlie to his own devices in South America, until it became almost embarrassing not to storm south for the well-stocked North. As usual Europe bore the brunt of most turmoil, mirroring its real life counter part.

So having conquered the world, Billy realised how long it had taken this time; and he had dashed out of Charlie’s back door, fearing the wrath of his father. So it was hardly surprising that with his imminent doom at the front of his mind, that Billy failed to notice the street lights on his route flicker slightly. And cast shadows not quite half formed; but none the less shapes to be caught out of the corner of one eye. That is until he got to the corner of Eldritch Street and Parfait Avenue. That was when he saw it.

The lights faded in and out like a mad puppet show, behind a screen. Billy had seen the like on TV, on some Asian documentary. But there was no screen, just the light mist of another dull night. Billy stopped in his mad dash, and stood transfixed, as the bizarre play unfolded. Then shaking his head as if to rid it of a bad dream, he recalled his father’s curfew and ran off to plead his case for tardiness on a school night. That was why he forgot about the strange phenomenon that was soon to become an urban legend, as the stories began to spread about the ghost of Eldritch Street, although it wasn’t just confined to there.

Other after dark illuminations could be seen to cause eerie shows, which just could not be explained. Finally there came a time when credence lent weight to the stories, and professional help was demanded. The local sparky Chuck Henderson was kept in full time work, at the request of the right honourable committee of Applefield. Checking every streetlight and one or two of the new fangled digital signs the committee had got installed, to inform passers by of local news; not to mention an endless stream of corporate adverts to bring in revenue.

So it was a cold morning that saw Billy admiring Mr Henderson’s electrical skills; as the expert happy for some company, explained the inner workings of the advertising edifice on Moonacre Avenue. “You see the signal is sent from a central control facility. I think it’s in Austin. And gets passed from cell tower to cell tower until the board”, he jerked his thumb at the monolith behind him. “Picks it up, like a giant cell phone doing a video call. Of course this thing’s got a built in memory, so it can keep on showing adverts even if the live feed is down. But here’s the cool bit”, and he gave Billy a conspiratorial wink. “The local authority who rents the service can send messages to display for local news updates, which means.” He held up his tablet, so the tiny camera on the back pointed at Billy. Instantly a giant sized image of the lad appeared on the billboard.

“Wow, won’t you get in to trouble for that Mr Henderson?” The ruddy faced man shook his head, “Nah, we’ve got to test them haven’t we.” Billy turned back to the big screen to enjoy his five minutes of fame, but as he stood transfixed by his facsimile the image suddenly looked strait at him, and stuck out it’s tongue. “Hey no fair, putting joke effects on” accused Billy as the electrician looked up from what he was doing. “What you talking about boy, this just sends in the image which gets pinged back to show a true reproduction. That’s how we know it’s working.” But not to be put off, Billy protested, “I know what I saw Mr Henderson” in an upset tone. Holding up his hands as if to calm the distraught lad the professional exercised his people skills. “Better stay off those sherbet dips son. You’re imagination don’t need no extra boost.” But his words were lost to Billy as he ran off seeking solace in his room back at home.

As it turned out it was not just Billy who began to experience erroneous images, and even messages from the boards over the coming weeks. Mr Wilks, who came spluttering in to the five and dime, swore blind the ever sure chicken displayed on the new fangled advertisement board on Finnick street, had made some pretty unsavoury remarks about his weight and general appearance. And when councillor Worthington had a dressing down about his slovenly appearance after a night spent in the Easy Joe tavern off Pinway road, “And by a bottle of Millhavens whiskey” he berated to an angry crowd of concerned citizens, that the popular feeling was to rip up the confounded intrusions and send them back where they came from.

The company didn’t actually come and take them away; but after a whip round to raise the early contract termination fee, Chuck Henderson’s skills were called in to action once more. This time it was to remove the fuses; so the darn things could cause no more trouble. And they didn’t, they just sat there like tombstones reminding the Applefieldians of the peculiar episode. That didn’t stop the strange showy flickering in the streetlights though. But given the alternative of folks having to walk the streets in the pitch black; everyone concerned seemed to think it a small price to pay for nocturnal illumination.

A few weeks past, and Billy was once more making his way back from a games night. This time it was at Jimmy’s parents; and as Monopoly was not Billy’s forte, Charlie had just trounced him. True all the other players had fallen before the shrewd business acumen of the two tycoons, but a run of bad luck on the dice at a critical time had effectively crippled Billy’s hotel empire. And as with most final defeats at the game, it was a forced stop at a fully loaded Boardwalk that had cleared Billy out of his last Dollar. At least the game had not lasted as long as it sometimes did, and so it was well before curfew time when Billy arrived home. Which was lucky, because his father was still in a good mood when he announced the family night out this Saturday, would be to the cinema.

“What’s playing Pa?” An eager Billy enquired, hopeful that it would be the latest in the movie franchise based on Billy’s hero Chuck Dodgers, “Galactic Buccaneers?” But his hopes were soon dashed, when his father proudly announced that the municipally run cinema would be showing a season of classics. After which there would be a vote to find the most popular one. The first one was to be something called ‘Citizen Kane’. Billy thought it sounded like a form of corporal punishment, but he kept his mouth shut, least he’d have to stay at home and mind the dog. Old Rex could take perfect care of himself, but he was always held up as an alternative to some family activity, if the errant child was being difficult. Billy’s sister Sally at least seemed pleased.

As it turned out according to Jimmy, who’s dad was a committeeman; Applefield’s elite had dreamt up the whole scheme. To both take people’s minds off the ever-disruptive street light problem, and to cover up the short fall in the town’s budget, after the profitable advertising board enterprise actually became a costly mistake. Thus leading to the Roxy theatre only being able to afford old stock. In fact old Mr Grubbleheim was quite proud of the job lot of reels he had managed to acquire, for the ‘old time extravaganza’ as he sold the idea to the committee, when he reported on how he could make savings in the town budget. As the manager, ticket seller, projectionist and usher, a job he simply refused to wear the old uniform left by Betty Clark for; Grubbleheim had already conquered the labour costs of the cinema. And any further savings he could make were down to his wit and cunning.

So as the flickering lights of Mablethorpe Street played out vague puppet shows, Billy and Sally trailed behind Mr and Mrs Pilgrim, as his parents strolled hand in hand down to the Roxy. In contrast, the two siblings were keen to get home almost three hours later, partly to raid the family larder for their Saturday night fuddle. The household’s feast that not only rounded of the family treat off, but usually let Mr and Mrs Pilgrim sleep in late on a Sunday, while the kids slept off full belies. The other reason Billy and his sister were keen to out distance their parents, was the heated discussion Billy’s father was leading, and his mother was trying to allay, as they strode back along Mablethorpe Street.

“I can’t see why anyone can be so arrogant as to mess around with a classic. I bet it was some do-gooder thinking they can edit the world in to their own perverted view of it.” “But you did find it entertaining dear, I saw you do that thing with your foot, when you’re lost in a good book.” “I mean Rosewater; where did they even get the out takes, unless they dubbed it. And that bit where he actually fought in the Spanish American war.” “He did look dashing in that uniform.” “Calling his home Xanucia; you’d think some washing machine company had a hand in that one somewhere.” “Still it was a good film.” They smiled and paused for a kiss, drawing the kids up at the sound of their sudden stop. Which caused a “Yaech” from Billy. “Quit your back talking young man, or it’ll be no fuddle for you tonight”, came the swift admonishment, and Billy countered with a “Sorry sir” keen not to miss out on the treat, before he turned once more for home.

The next day after church, the only topic that seemed to be of interest was the classic film; recalled with some confused interest by the older members of the community; and revelled in by the younger generation, now keen to absorb classics from the past, previously unseen. “It’s like some hidden truth that keeps you wanting more”, explained Billy to Ray whose parents had not joined the throng for the first show. Ray was still smarting about his thorough trouncing at Risk he had suffered the other week. And he was keen for his next chance at becoming ruler of the world. “Don’t forget that the map of the world on a Risk board is divided in to forty two territories. And the winner must conquer them all. It could be the answer to the meaning of life.” Ray gave Billy a knowing look, but undeterred Billy continued extolling the virtues of Citizen Kane. “You get a lot of meaning from those old films; it’s like they speak to you.” And he continued on until even Ray had to admit defeat; and he vowed to see the next Saturday’s showing of ‘Some like it hot’.

For some reason the games resorted to that week took on a retro theme too, as a craze for cards gripped the younger element of Applefield, not that any gambling took place. If a particular game required some form of betting, the usual currency was anything at hand; buttons or soda pop bottle tops sufficed. Billy quite got the hang of Black Maria, learnt from the ‘One hundred best card games’ book, which Ray had picked up in Mazy Jay’s second hand bookshop, sparking the craze in the first place. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

But the youth had hardly scratched the surface of the wealth of card games held within that book, when next Saturday came around. Then all talk turned to the next visual feast the Roxy would be showing. As Billy joined the queue for the box office, he noticed a distinct swelling in its ranks. And when he sat between Sally and his father, Billy could hardly see an empty seat in the house, as Mr Grubbleheim stalked the aisles with a flashlight directing latecomers to the odd seat left untaken.

After a brief display of musically enhanced cartoons, also from a bygone era; for Mr Grubbleheim had done a thorough job in his dealings with the film stock clearing house, the lights rose briefly as the aged projectionist donned a frilly pinafore, his one concession to the uniform of an usherette. Then he proceeded to distribute frozen treats at a profit. Billy and Sally both tucked in to choc-ices, while his parents shared a bumper bucket of salted popcorn bought earlier. Then the curtains on either side of the screen pulled back, as the lights dimmed for the main attraction. The hubbub of noise from the audience died down in reverence, and noisier snacks were eaten with care or discarded entirely. Then the flickering light reflected off the shimmering screen bathed the crowd in its enchanting glow.

The film seemed oddly familiar to Billy; and when Tony Curtis proclaimed “We spent three years at the Xanucia conservatory”, Billy was sure he had heard of it before; perhaps there was a real one, which made some kind of sense to the lad. But it was when Jack Lemmon broke the fourth wall, staring out on the audience with his line, “Well I’ll be, he does have a bicycle” that Bill thought it was a very innovative effect for an old film. To be repeated by Joe E Brown’s final line of the classic, “We can all aim at perfection”; which seemed to jar with Billy though, as if he had a vague memory of seeing the film on TV once. But the upbeat title music washed the feeling away, as the audience rose. The babble rose in praise of this second helping of cinematic excellence, as any comments that may have been made about erroneous edits passed Billy by.

Through the following week Billy plunged once more in to the many card games revealed to him in Ray’s book, and almost forgot when Saturday morning came around once more, about the third instalment in the film season, which was to be The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. It was a gripping tale of gold fever destroying the flawed character of Humphrey Bogart, leading to his eventual doom. And Billy didn’t have cause to think too deeply about it. That was until two days later, as he sat on a high stool at John Brown’s milk bar, The Thirsty Cow.

Billy was engrossed in a collectable card game called Magic The Gathering, as he tried to relate the beautifully designed cards to the small rulebook. But his fascination was broken in to by a hushed conversation in the booth over from him. Martha Swayland was sat across from Mr Henderson, as she gave an animated confession across her coffee cup. “And you know when Humphrey Bogart sat in the street discussing how gold changed a man with that Curtin fellow. Well I swear on my life Bogart looked strait at me. As if he knew the strain I was under running the bank, and handling all that money.” She dragged the last three words out, like they were a treat she was savouring. Then with a jerk she was back, blushing with the guilty sin she felt. “What with Mr O’Leary being laid up in bed this past two weeks with gout, and not being able to fulfil his duty as the manager.” She let the words trail off, as if her confession of avarice could now shield her from temptation, after the words of Bogy had been delivered to her.

Mr Henderson nodded in clandestine agreement before sharing his own experience. “Yes I got that feeling that he was staring at me too, but it wasn’t then. It was when Bogart was mumbling to himself, as he tended to the burros. And then he fixed me with his gaze as he said, ‘you know what’s good for you. You won’t monkey around with Fred C Dobbs.’ It gave me a fair turn I can tell you. And you know what I was thinking at the time? I’d just had a notion to have another go at those street lights.” He fixed his stare on Ms Swayland as he uttered the oath, “Well that’s put me off messing with stuff I know I’ll never be able to fix.”

Over the week Billy heard second or even third hand tails of a similar ilk. It seemed that most of the adult population of Applefield had been spoken to directly by one or another of the characters in the film on an aspect of their lives, morally guiding them, as they confessed. Even Reverend Peabody had been touched Billy reflected, as he recalled the preacher’s sermon only the day after the showing, in the light of all the talk of the town. For the reverend had referred to the gold dust being scattered to the desert winds as part of a parable. “And thus the wealth of man shall be naught but one with the sands of the desert when it is won through falsehood and avarice, so professed Izia of Jeddah.” Needless to say in the light of all this unheralded advertising, anyone left in Applefield who had not seen the last three films were clamouring to join the throng in anticipation of the following Saturday’s show, which was to be It’s a Wonderful Life.

As the lights dimmed for the show that Saturday night Billy got the strangest feeling; and glancing round he surmised he was not alone in his perception, as the audience succumbed to the spell of the flickering light that danced on the screen. It was as if the film was watching them. But gripped in the enthralling plot as it unfolded, not a soul in the house could break free. It simply did not occur to them that they were the unwitting guinea pigs in an experiment to test how their morals had improved, after last weeks words of wisdom had sunk in. Billy wondered how the town had done; for although he had no inkling of the outcome of this trial by the very icons of the silver screen, he still seemed to sense a test had at least take place.

As it turned out Billy seemed to be in a minority of one, when he broached the subject with anyone. Friends, family, even Ms Swayland seemed oblivious to Billy’s probing on the subject, as they discussed Saturday’s show, and the up coming showing of Sunset Boulevard this Saturday coming. Billy had only dropped in to the bank to cash a cheque for his father, but it seemed like all other topics of conversation had been dropped except those relating to the film season. “Although I was sure the angel was called Clarence, but I must have got it wrong all these years. Funny, you’d think a name like Xanucia would stick in your mind” Martha rattled on as Billy double checked his father ’s money, and stepped out in to the afternoon light.

Even the sporadic games sessions that Billy and his peers would usually enjoy throughout the week had been thrown over in favour of discussing the previous week’s classic. Which Billy thought a pity, having mastered the rules of his new card game. He had hoped to unleash it on his friends and start a new craze, for each card in the deck was collectable, and he envisioned being able to swap and compare them with his friends.

But as the sun dipped below the end of town that Saturday everning, and the untidy crowd heading towards the Roxy caught the last rays of light, yet more film fans swelled their ranks. And it was in the midst of this mob that Billy broached his fears to his sibling Sally. “You don’t think there’s something odd about the films we’re watching do you Sally?” His look of concern reflecting off her sun glazed eyes, but in an almost dream like drawl of anticipation his sister merely replied “Yes I’m looking forward to the film too.” Billy almost recoiled in horror, but despite his sudden impulse to flee the crowd and forsake the gathering, he too felt the irresistible pull of the Roxy.

And so that rebellious part of his mind had to sit as if bound and gagged, while his hijacked body took it’s place three rows back from the screen; as it stared once more on the town folk’s new gods. The larger than life figure of Gloria Swanson paraded around in a tragic delusion, with her ever-faithful servant Max Von Xanucia, leading to the untimely death of the young writer Joe Gillis that left Billy with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach; as if he had been truly judged, and found wanting. Perhaps he too was so wrapped up in his own delusion of personal desire, that there was a whole world of opportunity out there denied him purely because he could not break the sham of a life he was leading.

It was with hushed tones that the town discussed the film on their way home, as self-reflection became the new topic of the week. Like a community in shame; Applefield longed for the hope next week’s show just had to lavish on them, like a forlorn hound waiting for his master’s reassuring pat on the head. But few could speak of their desire; for the latest visual treat would be the science fiction classic When Worlds Collide. Not the most inspiring of title if you sought hope. After a week of general mourning the town as a whole gathered silently outside the Roxy, and stood gazing up at the interchangeable red letters on the white board that hung above it’s entrance, displaying the legend When Worlds Collide.

It was as if the manifestation of the title there was some reassuring proof of the way forward. Then with all the reverence of the sacrament, each paid their dollar and was duly administered a ticket by Mr Grubbleheim, with all the ceremony of the Eucharist. Then they filed through, heads bent to their allotted seat and sat waiting for the flickering lights to begin. There were no pre feature cartoons this evening, and when Billy lifted his head to the light, it was to see the title of this night’s sermon blazoned across the screen.

With bated breath each audience member followed the exploits of Randall, as he became privy to the impending doom befalling the Earth. And consequently the plan of hope that the chosen few might just escape the Planet’s destruction as the rouge planet Bellus smashes in to it, by seeking refuge on Bellus’ moon Xanucia. That one ray of hope seemed to spark something in Billy, like a slender rope dangling in the pit of despair he had wallowed in all week. As the crowd filed out once more, Billy noticed every person seemed lost in their own thoughts; but he was sure the same deliberations of hope sat in each Applefieldian’s mind. What form it might take, no one seemed able to voice. The promise of salvation was too vague to comprehend, but a promise of hope it was.

So it was that the mood of the town rose that week; and although most town folk carried out their tasks in a distracted manner, life did seem to take on a more normal air than the previous week’s solemnity. Billy even managed to rustle up the odd individual for a try at his new card game, and its merits were noted among the youth of Applefield. Meanwhile each man, woman and child wondered how the penultimate picture in the film festival would shed new light on their world, as The Day the Earth Stood Still’s showing on Saturday night loomed.

As the weeks had progressed, the smart Sunday clothes that every citizen wore to church had slowly made the transition to include the Saturday night; so in fact as Billy strode with a purpose, arm in arm with his family, they wore their weekend best clothes on their way to the Roxy that night. Then they joined the orderly queue in the general anticipation of the hopeful news the film would impart to them. There was hope at the end of the tunnel.

This evening the cartoons preluding to the main feature had been reinstated; but not a soul in the house took much of its contents in, being too keen to see the film. That was not to say they showed any outward signs of impatience. For that might be misconstrued as a moral deficit; and no one wanted to be perceived in that light. None the less, it was with a collective sigh of relief that the curtains widened for the main feature, as Mr Grubbleheim made his way through the extra chairs laid out in the aisles to accommodate latecomers to the film festival; even if they weren’t late for the show. And his almost full tray of ices bore testament to the crowd’s distracted mood in mere trifles as refreshments. The lights dimmed and all raised their heads in silent prayer, that tonight all would be revealed.

The black and white story kept each member of Applefield gripped in his or her seats; they groaned as Michael Rennie was shot bringing his message of peace. They feared for his safety a he left the protection of Gort, the all-powerful protector of the galaxy. They revelled in Klaatu’s quick thinking, and thoughtful penetration of the scientific community; the one organisation he knew to be unblinkered by petty squabbles. And there was not a dry eye in the house when the resurrected alien invited the world to unite, in joining the Xanucian federation of planets. It was the sign everyone had been waiting for. Yes they would be saved, if only they would follow the words of peace that the giants of the silver screen imparted for the good of everyone.

The jubilant crowd that emerged in to the star lit night could hardly have been much more different from the sombre congregation of last week. For although they were still in the dark as to how their salvation would be achieved, the gods themselves had lavished on them an invite to redemption. Nothing more need be said; yet still the speculation as to how next weeks showing of The Wizard of Oz would shed light on the bounty bestowed on Applefield, was rife though out the coming days.

Billy had just wandered in to The Thirsty Cow when he saw a small crowd gathered round John Brown as he expounded “I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them Xanucian saucers, like in The Day the Earth Stood Still was to come down and deliver us to a proverbial land. Where milk and honey.” “And soda pop?” Ted Williams broke in to Mr Brown’s prophesying, but the ensuing discussion over the details of this possible revelation was lost on Billy, as Ray had just collared Billy. “Hey did you hear what Charlie has been saying? He recons we’re going to have to build a rocket ship, so we can fly ourselves to Xanucia. And they.” He said the last word with revered awe. “Are going to tell us how to build and fly it.”

And so it went on all week with even more extravagant ways in which the town would be saved. Martha Swayland even claimed to anyone willing to listen to her, that the town would have to all dress up like women, and take a train down south to Xanucia. Where they would play in a holy band and live in harmony with the great ones.

Yet still when Saturday night came round, no one was any the wiser as to what great plan The Wizard of Oz would reveal to the town folk of Applefield. They just knew it would happen to night. Every resident of Applefield had been dressed to almost impeccable levels; even Mr O’Leary had hobbled down in his best suit in expectation of the glorious event. And the reverence of the procedure was observed to the letter. Each member of the audience held their ticket stub, as they took a seat and sat in rapt enthrallment of the cartoon entrée to the main feature. Mr Grubbleheim finally left the auditorium after the interval; his frozen treats all gone, and he set the screen size for the feature film.

The audience as a whole leaned forward, hanging on every word the sepia Judy Garland exchanged with her extended family. So that when she opened her front door on the over bright colours of Munchkin land, the eerie music was complimented by a significant proportion of the audience chocking back tears; and turning round Billy saw not one dry eye in the house, through his own moist view of the world.

The feeling of joy that the residents of Applefield felt, that they were already welcomed in to the world Xanucia promised, carried on through Dorothy’s adventures in Oz. That was until the four friends almost skipped arm in arm out of the snow covered poppy field, and back on to the yellow brick road on its approach to the emerald city gates. Dorothy glanced over her shoulder, and smiling kindly at every upturned face, beckoned each Applefieldian to follow.

Then en masse the crowd mounted the low stage before the screen and approached the image of the city, as their silhouettes began to block it from view. And with a ripping noise Mr Henderson broke through to the other side. Behind the vision of hope was a shabby back stage area; but the crowd only had eyes for the glowing figure that stood smiling at the congregation.

His auburn hair moved like reeds in a lazy river, and framed a face intuitively at peace, as you were drawn down to eyes which stared intently without apparent effort, as if world weary. They hid behind the perfect circles that shielded his eyes. There was a feeling of that other world in to which he looked could be yours, if only you were willing to follow him. His almost neutral smile gave him a boyish look of an angel, augmenting his flowing white robes that moved in rhythmic harmony with his hair. When he spoke, his nasal Scouse tones were tempered by an inner peace that emanated through his words, as if each had been carefully considered to bring a feeling of ease to the listener, as he invited the chosen to “Follow me”; he indicated an open fire exit, before he passed through it himself.

Without hesitation the loyal followers filed through the narrow gap, and set off in the footsteps of their softly glowing guide, as he floated through the woods that abutted the back of the cinema. Soon the sparse trees gave way to rough shrubs, and the land sloped up towards the hills that sat to the west of Applefield. Billy glanced round, reassured by his family walking close to him, and noticed the long line of his neighbours as they filed up the track. The cloudless night picked them out like an ant trail emerging from the woods.

Way up ahead, Billy could still make out the unfamiliar tones of their guide, even though his words were lost in the night. This was a true test of the town folk’s mettle; for hour after hour the guiding light shone out like a beacon leading Billy and his fellow pilgrims further in to the wilderness. Some, weary of the journey began to fall by the wayside and lay pleading to be aided in their hour of need, but who could bear such a burden on top of their own. The young and small could be carried; but folk such as Mr Nokes, who’s rotund figure was an effort for himself to carry could hardly expect others to support him, as the weary crowd staggered on.

So he was left pleading by the path, as the slow but steady tramp of the others passed him by. Billy propped up his sister, eliciting a kindly smile from his mother, too weary herself to help her child, as she staggered on with one hand on her husband’s shoulder. From up the line word passed back from their guide that it wouldn’t be much further. And bolstered by these words of comfort Billy marched on. Finally as the dim light of predawn brought the look of unreality to the rocks and shrubs about Billy’s feet, as if they could suddenly become some animated creature. Then Billy looked up, and suddenly realised the ragged line was entering a cave mouth.

Up ahead, their glowing guide seemed to Billy to shine out more in the darkness of their subterranean path. And his echoing enticements wrought new hope in the now depleted line that still followed him. Billy was unaware of just how many of the good folk of Applefield had not made it this far, but even in his weary state he noticed gaps in the line where his friends and neighbours had once followed. Soon the pail light of the cave mouth was lost behind them, and only the ever-glowing presence of their guide bore testament that Billy had not been struck blind, as he staggered on through the pitch black of the path. Then without realising it he bumped in to a figure before him, and sensed that he was once more part of a crowd, rather than the drawn out line his world had become.

Others presses into Billy’s back as the crush of bodies filled the lightless void, that the last of the pilgrims found themselves in. Where had their guide gone? Scared voices in the dark pleaded to the missing messiah, but others demanded an explanation. Who had seen him last? He had been there one moment, and they had only glanced away for a second. It was as if he had never been there. And then the panic set in; no one knew the twists and turns they had taken in to this ever-nocturnal hell they had brought themselves to. Why had they followed some willo the wisp? Had it all been a spell to ensnare the town? No, it must be a final test.

Then as if this last thought, voiced in the night were some key to unlock the door, there was a sudden flash of light. In that instant Billy saw the sorry ragged few who had made it this far. There was barely a third of the audience, who only last night had sat in the Roxy. Where were the others? Had they forsaken the quest, or fallen prey to weakness on the long journey? Whatever the cause may be, it gave a stark reminder to Billy that he was among the chosen few indeed. Then once more in the dark a new deeper voice rang out.

“We came to your world of light riding on a beam from a distant star. And after a fashion you took us in. But we see now that the darkness of moral decay we tried to escape on our world is just as prevalent on yours. Yes you are willing to follow a cause, but you can never break the fetid bonds that hold you down. I had hoped that some of you could make the transition in to beings such as us, as your life force departed the discarded shells on this final journey. But none arose, and you who stand to hear testimony to my words, also stand unworthy of the gift of eternal light.”

The silence that echoed after the voice departed made the oppression of this final betrayal all the more intense, and Billy’s legs sagged under the strained release of pent up fear, that he would die along with everyone he knew in some unfathomable tomb. And all at the bidding of an alien presence that despised all that made Billy human. The thought of it made him sick to his core. No he wouldn’t die like this. But what could he do, only a boy among adults? The people who should know better than he, and where had it got everyone? In the dark all were equal. Taking heart from this sudden revelation, Billy felt for the person next to him; it was Sally. “Take my hand and follow me” he spoke calmly to her. “And pass it on to the next person.” Then he about faced and silently made his way through the crowd of unseen bodies that stood in his way.

After a few steps he found an exit to the void they were in. And praying it was the way they had come, he felt along the wall. The steady tug on his arm seemed to ripple like a wave, and he hoped all that had been led to this doom were somewhere in the long line of humanity he led; hopefully back to the light. Occasionally he stumbled over rocks, but thankfully there were none big enough to trip him. Then with a stifled moan some obstacle softer than the stone entombing them blocked Billy’s path. And stretching out with his free hand Billy felt a face on a figure that must be slumped against the wall.

“You came back,” slurred the familiar voice of Mr Henderson, greeting Billy with a ray of hope. If fallen town’s folk lined the way out, he had a trail to follow, even if it were a sporadic guide to freedom. Helping the electrician up, he made sure he was linked between Sally and the next unseen figure behind her. Billy knew Mr Henderson would be able to keep up, for the line virtually crawled along the pitch-black trail, as he felt his way forward.

After what seemed like an eternity another marker showed themselves on the way back, but this poor soul had not been so lucky, and try as he might Billy could get no response; after stooping low over the prone figure Billy was sure he could hear no breathing too. Passing the news back for care to be taken, least someone in the line should stumble over the fallen Applefieldian, he felt his way on. In this way Billy found yet more of his town folk. Some joined the line; others were past salvation, and must remain here for now.

At last with a choke of tears, Billy saw a light bobbing towards him. It took him a moment to realise it was his own laboured movement that made it act so. And when he pulled up short the faint light stayed stock-still. “I think I can see the tunnel mouth” was all he could say, but the cries of joy and hurried conveyance of his words down the line gave Billy a sudden surge of strength, as he felt his companions move forward in new found hope.

Before he realised it Billy was stumbling out in to the light, as a blue sky greeted him. He helped each staggering figure in the line pass out in to the sun, and find a vacant spot on which to simply fall down where they stood. Then with a swell of relief both his parents passed him, squeezing his hand before they spotted Sally as she waved feebly at them, and they went over to rest in the sun.

Finally all the long line of refugees form the ordeal had emerged, and Billy lay down too with his family. Looking round he saw that many a face was missing from the exhausted survivors. There would be time to morn the lost. But now he knew help would have to be sort. Perhaps in a while Billy thought, as he lay back and basked in the sunlight, he had feared he might never see again.

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