Coming after "Crisis" as a prompt, "Marked" feels rather like you're riffing on the Biblical tale of Passover :) I see Pan continues to be the world's favourite deity at the moment and is presiding over all the panic. I've had to tell people who feel ill that they have to bring a doctor's note into the office with them when they return so that they can silence their colleagues who "worry" that they're still ill or magically have COVID. It's tiresome *and* depressing.
Marked There was a white police-van sat outside waiting for them, with a driver who wasn’t wearing a police uniform. The van was shiny and looked as though it might be new, but when Collins surreptitiously looked at the licence plates he saw that it was eight years old. Another tiny but everpresent reminder of how few people there were in the world now. Adams looked at the driver and then looked at the Inspectral, who just walked through the wall of the van. Ethel hauled the van door open without seeming to make an effort and Collins wondered again which side of life he was on. The Inspectral was sat in the front row of six rows of narrow seats. “Who’s the driver?” asked Adams, her words clipped. “Someone who knows the way,” said the Inspectral. “Tanham does not exist—” “I said that!” boomed Ethel, climbing in and occupying the back row of seats. “—for most intents and purposes and access to it is restricted. So is knowledge of that access.” The driver turned round in his seat and Collins was surprised to realise that he felt relieved that the driver looked obviously human and alive. “Access is not marked anywhere,” he said. “There’s nothing on the road-signs, no maps, no secret markings on trees or buildings or anything. You’re not going to know where it is even after you visit it.” Collins thought to the check the windows of the van then and was not surprised to see that they were heavily tinted and very, very hard to see through. Only the windscreen was clear, and then he noticed that there was a partition wall, like in a London taxi, between the driver’s seats and the rest of the van. As he noticed it the driver caught his eye in the rear-view mirror and leaned forward to flick a switch. The upper part of the wall, glass, became opaque, and then a moment later let light through again. “Hope you’re not claustrophobic, Collins,” said Adams. He thought there was a touch of malice in her voice. “Nope,” he said, wondering how to tell a Garmr to get into the van. Timothy jumped up of his own accord as they approached the door though. “I’m not very good with heights if they’re really high though.” Adams took the row behind the Inspectral, and Collins decided that to sit anywhere but the row in front of Ethel would be rude, so he and the Garmr settled down there. Adams closed the door impatiently, and the driver opaqued the window. For a moment it was cavernously dark in the van, then a weak yellow light came on, and steadily got stronger as the van pulled off and then felt it pause at the car-park gates, and then accelerate onto the road outside. Collins checked the windows and discovered that the interior light completed the job of making it impossible to see out. “It usually takes around an hour to get to Tanham,” said the Inspectral. “Different every time; I suspect they take different routes and go in circles here and there to make it harder to guess where it might be.” “You’ve been there before?” asked Adams. “Yes,” said the Inspectral, and that was that.
Greg - yes, the number of news releases and updates that have been coming through Town Hall this week could equally be described as depressing. Everyone seems to be in a rush to appear concerned and doing their due diligence and not being negligent enough to get in trouble.
Ooh, road trip! Also: great descriptions of the van.
2 comments:
Coming after "Crisis" as a prompt, "Marked" feels rather like you're riffing on the Biblical tale of Passover :) I see Pan continues to be the world's favourite deity at the moment and is presiding over all the panic. I've had to tell people who feel ill that they have to bring a doctor's note into the office with them when they return so that they can silence their colleagues who "worry" that they're still ill or magically have COVID. It's tiresome *and* depressing.
Marked
There was a white police-van sat outside waiting for them, with a driver who wasn’t wearing a police uniform. The van was shiny and looked as though it might be new, but when Collins surreptitiously looked at the licence plates he saw that it was eight years old. Another tiny but everpresent reminder of how few people there were in the world now.
Adams looked at the driver and then looked at the Inspectral, who just walked through the wall of the van. Ethel hauled the van door open without seeming to make an effort and Collins wondered again which side of life he was on. The Inspectral was sat in the front row of six rows of narrow seats.
“Who’s the driver?” asked Adams, her words clipped.
“Someone who knows the way,” said the Inspectral. “Tanham does not exist—”
“I said that!” boomed Ethel, climbing in and occupying the back row of seats.
“—for most intents and purposes and access to it is restricted. So is knowledge of that access.”
The driver turned round in his seat and Collins was surprised to realise that he felt relieved that the driver looked obviously human and alive. “Access is not marked anywhere,” he said. “There’s nothing on the road-signs, no maps, no secret markings on trees or buildings or anything. You’re not going to know where it is even after you visit it.”
Collins thought to the check the windows of the van then and was not surprised to see that they were heavily tinted and very, very hard to see through. Only the windscreen was clear, and then he noticed that there was a partition wall, like in a London taxi, between the driver’s seats and the rest of the van. As he noticed it the driver caught his eye in the rear-view mirror and leaned forward to flick a switch. The upper part of the wall, glass, became opaque, and then a moment later let light through again.
“Hope you’re not claustrophobic, Collins,” said Adams. He thought there was a touch of malice in her voice.
“Nope,” he said, wondering how to tell a Garmr to get into the van. Timothy jumped up of his own accord as they approached the door though. “I’m not very good with heights if they’re really high though.”
Adams took the row behind the Inspectral, and Collins decided that to sit anywhere but the row in front of Ethel would be rude, so he and the Garmr settled down there. Adams closed the door impatiently, and the driver opaqued the window. For a moment it was cavernously dark in the van, then a weak yellow light came on, and steadily got stronger as the van pulled off and then felt it pause at the car-park gates, and then accelerate onto the road outside. Collins checked the windows and discovered that the interior light completed the job of making it impossible to see out.
“It usually takes around an hour to get to Tanham,” said the Inspectral. “Different every time; I suspect they take different routes and go in circles here and there to make it harder to guess where it might be.”
“You’ve been there before?” asked Adams.
“Yes,” said the Inspectral, and that was that.
Greg - yes, the number of news releases and updates that have been coming through Town Hall this week could equally be described as depressing. Everyone seems to be in a rush to appear concerned and doing their due diligence and not being negligent enough to get in trouble.
Ooh, road trip! Also: great descriptions of the van.
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