relief. I was exhausted, the house was trashed. But here it was at last: what I’d been looking for.
There were a few of them, slightly crumpled, though there was nothing to suggest they had been hidden on purpose. The leaflet featured a photograph of an old-fashioned flying saucer, below the words GALACTICA 99. At the bottom of the page it stated that this was the fifth annual Galactica convention, with guest speakers from across the world, many stalls, films, etc, etc. It was to take place on the nineteenth of October in Camden Town. My heart thumped. This had to be the one.
I started to pack everything back beneath the bed, not bothering to put it away neatly, just shoving it back in. My mind was elsewhere now, planning my trip to the Galactica convention. Among the junk in the bed was some old jewellery that had belonged to Mikage, my old girlfriend, cheap stuff that she had left behind. As I shoved it back in I dropped a ring and it rolled and slipped beneath the bed. There was a gap of about half an inch between the carpet and the bed, just enough for the ring to roll in on its side. I put my fingers beneath the bed to fish it out and felt something there. It felt like the corner of an envelope. I pinched it between finger and thumb and pulled it out. It was an envelope – a brown A4 manila envelope. It was sealed but nothing was written on the front.
I sat on the bed and opened it.
Inside were four black and white photographs. They were of Marie. She was naked. She looked two, maybe three, years younger than she was now. The photographs were very good quality, quite professional looking. I would have been pleased with them myself, technically.
I looked at all four in rotation, over and over. My whole body trembled. My stomach spasmed suddenly and I ran to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet. I rinsed my mouth and walked back to the bedroom, holding onto the wall for support. This couldn’t be real. I must have imagined it.
But the photographs were still there, lying on the bed, and they were real. Although when I say real, I mean they existed. Because they were faked. Marie was real – she was there in the flesh, one hundred per cent real, but the pictures had been cleverly manipulated so she was not alone. In the photographs, she appeared to be having sex with an alien.
It was a Grey: the standard image, with the large head, enormous deep-black eyes, tiny mouth, slight body. At first, I couldn’t work out if it was someone in a suit, but it looked too realistic. It had to be a computer image, I decided, something created on a machine. Then this image had been cleverly Photoshopped onto the image of Marie.
In the first photograph, the Grey lay on top of her; then she was astride it; the third picture showed the alien with its lipless mouth on her breasts. In the final picture Marie knelt on all fours facing the camera, her face screwed up in mock ecstasy, the alien positioned so that it appeared to enter her from behind, its long fingers stroking her back. Every inch of Marie was on display.
Marie, who would never let me take her photograph.
I shook the envelope, but there was nothing else inside. Questions raced dizzily through my head. Who had taken the photographs? For what purpose? Was this connected to her disappearance? And were there more? I would have to search her computer. Maybe, I thought, there were videos too.
I wanted to tear the pictures up, burn them, wipe them from existence. But I knew I mustn’t. I put them back in the envelope. I didn’t want to have to look at them. Not yet. I walked downstairs on shaky legs and opened a bottle of vodka. I drank straight from the bottle, until I passed out. My last thought was that at least now I had a photograph of Marie. A dark part of me laughed bitterly, and then consciousness slipped away.
10
I went to the Galactica 99 convention on my own. I would have liked to take a companion, but who? Certainly not Simon, because although his
There were a few of them, slightly crumpled, though there was nothing to suggest they had been hidden on purpose. The leaflet featured a photograph of an old-fashioned flying saucer, below the words GALACTICA 99. At the bottom of the page it stated that this was the fifth annual Galactica convention, with guest speakers from across the world, many stalls, films, etc, etc. It was to take place on the nineteenth of October in Camden Town. My heart thumped. This had to be the one.
I started to pack everything back beneath the bed, not bothering to put it away neatly, just shoving it back in. My mind was elsewhere now, planning my trip to the Galactica convention. Among the junk in the bed was some old jewellery that had belonged to Mikage, my old girlfriend, cheap stuff that she had left behind. As I shoved it back in I dropped a ring and it rolled and slipped beneath the bed. There was a gap of about half an inch between the carpet and the bed, just enough for the ring to roll in on its side. I put my fingers beneath the bed to fish it out and felt something there. It felt like the corner of an envelope. I pinched it between finger and thumb and pulled it out. It was an envelope – a brown A4 manila envelope. It was sealed but nothing was written on the front.
I sat on the bed and opened it.
Inside were four black and white photographs. They were of Marie. She was naked. She looked two, maybe three, years younger than she was now. The photographs were very good quality, quite professional looking. I would have been pleased with them myself, technically.
I looked at all four in rotation, over and over. My whole body trembled. My stomach spasmed suddenly and I ran to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet. I rinsed my mouth and walked back to the bedroom, holding onto the wall for support. This couldn’t be real. I must have imagined it.
But the photographs were still there, lying on the bed, and they were real. Although when I say real, I mean they existed. Because they were faked. Marie was real – she was there in the flesh, one hundred per cent real, but the pictures had been cleverly manipulated so she was not alone. In the photographs, she appeared to be having sex with an alien.
It was a Grey: the standard image, with the large head, enormous deep-black eyes, tiny mouth, slight body. At first, I couldn’t work out if it was someone in a suit, but it looked too realistic. It had to be a computer image, I decided, something created on a machine. Then this image had been cleverly Photoshopped onto the image of Marie.
In the first photograph, the Grey lay on top of her; then she was astride it; the third picture showed the alien with its lipless mouth on her breasts. In the final picture Marie knelt on all fours facing the camera, her face screwed up in mock ecstasy, the alien positioned so that it appeared to enter her from behind, its long fingers stroking her back. Every inch of Marie was on display.
Marie, who would never let me take her photograph.
I shook the envelope, but there was nothing else inside. Questions raced dizzily through my head. Who had taken the photographs? For what purpose? Was this connected to her disappearance? And were there more? I would have to search her computer. Maybe, I thought, there were videos too.
I wanted to tear the pictures up, burn them, wipe them from existence. But I knew I mustn’t. I put them back in the envelope. I didn’t want to have to look at them. Not yet. I walked downstairs on shaky legs and opened a bottle of vodka. I drank straight from the bottle, until I passed out. My last thought was that at least now I had a photograph of Marie. A dark part of me laughed bitterly, and then consciousness slipped away.
10
I went to the Galactica 99 convention on my own. I would have liked to take a companion, but who? Certainly not Simon, because although his
Similar Books
