Dark Portal 1/Dark Portal 1.adf/TEXT/Dark Star

Text File | 1992-09-02 | 17.8 KB | 318 lines

@"DARK STAR" By Andrew Campbell 1992


# Based on a true story.



 It was twenty to ten when James arrived at the party.
 He didn't know exactly who's house it was that was glaring out from
the line of semi-detatched houses along Flatmill Road, or what the
people were supposed to be celebrating, but he did know he was invited.
 A huge, bald and heavilly tatooed guy (who looked drunk already) was
swaying around at the door, a half-empty bottle of Budwiser in his
hands.
 James blew out his cheeks and followed a couple of arm-in-arm young
lovers towards the front door of the house. He waited patiently as the
bald guy joked and laughed with the couple for a few seconds before
arching his muscular arm open like a shark's mouth and pushing them
into the party. His grin decended into a frown when James, alone and
with his hands tucked nervously into his pockets, smiled and paced
towards the door.
 "Are you invited, dude?" the bald man asked sharply, blocking the
entrance to the house with his gigantic chest. James peered up at the
guy and blinked.
 "Sure. I'm invited." he said, feeling like he wasn't.
 The guy laughed, revealing horrid yellow teeth.
 "Get in there then, you raving little turkey!"
 He pushed James into the hallway with such force, he tripped and fell
flat on his face beneath the feet of a girl who happened to have been
passing from the kitchen to the front room at the time.
 She crouched down and placed her tray of drinks to one side, then
helped James to his feet. Whilst he rose up from the carpet, James saw
how attractive the girl was and instantly blushed with embarrasment.
 "Jesus." he said weakly. "How clumsy of me."
 "These things happen." the girl assured him in a voice that silenced
James. He clambered to his feet, secretly admiring the girl's smooth,
sun-tanned legs and tight, yellow low-cut dress. Her face was far from
dissapointing: she had the most feminine facial features James had seen
in his life, perfect in almost every way, from her styled blonde hair
to her big bright blue eyes, right down to her supple red lips and
delicate, narrow chin. She looked about nineteen.
 "Are you a friend of Harry's?" she asked, smiling a little. James
hesitated, trying to remember that he was at a party and that he had to
keep his cool. He figured Harry must be the party holder.
 Before he could answer her, the girl said, "I don't know you do I?"
 "No." James said quietly, lost for anything else to say. His eyes
seemed to have perminently glued themselves to the girl's exposed
cleavage.
 She swiped her tray of drinks back from the floor and stood up facing
him. He could smell some kind of entrancing perfume around her body
that seemed to stimulate and arouse his primary sexual organ faster
than anything else on earth.
 "So, er, what's your name?" he asked nervously.
 She gave him a quick full glance from toes to hair and back again.
 "Star." she said.
 "Pardon?" James asked, smiling dumbly.
 "Star." she repeated, leaning forwards a little. James had only just
realised that there was rave music blasting away from a near by room
and lights were dancing on the ceiling of the hallway like special
effects from an old "Star Trek" movie.
 "Oh, your name is Star!" he said and laughed, despite his idiocy.
"I'm pleased to meet you. My name's James."
 Star gave him another luring smile, "Hi James. Are you alone or what?"
 "Yeah." James said, reluctant to speak loudly whilst a cluster of
party-ravers passed him in the hallway. They vanished into the ajar
door from which the colourful array of lights were emmiting and became
lost in the blarring music and the manic laughter.
 "Well," Star shrugged, "If you want to dance, I'm free."
 James washed over with sweat. He didn't know how to speak to girls
never mind dance with them. But this open opportunity seemed as amazing
as a trout jumping out of the water and landing in a fisherman's net.
 "Sure, I'd like that." he said quite confidently, whilst beads of
itchy hot sweat raced down his back and moistened his brand new shirt.
James had expected to be seated alone in a corner of this mad-house,
drinking coke whilst everyone else had crazy fun and got rat-arsed. He
had dressed himself up quite casually in pale bleached jeans and an old
white school shirt, the thought of meeting a hot girl had been the last
thing on his mind. Now, after his embarrassing trip-up and unexpected
meeting with Star, he felt slightly uncomfortable and under-dressed.
 Like a sheep, James followed Star into the dark front room of the
house and began to push through the hoards of dancers, ravers, lovers
and weirdos, appologising at least twice every few seconds for his rude
intrusion. The music was blasting out of two enormous speakers
attatched to a brightly-lit hi-fi system that looked like some kind of
space-age computer console. The "tune" was the fast thumping beat, "No
Limit" by "Two Unlimited" and was giving the break-dancers one hell of
an excuse to show off their moon-walks and their head-spins.
 James fought his way across the massive living room (now a converted
dance-floor) and managed to catch up with Star at the drinks table. She
noticed he had followed and bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.
 "Can you break dance?" she asked him and at once James scratched his
sweating collar.
 "Er, no. Not, er, I'm not really a dancing type-"
 "That's alright." she said, emptying her tray of drinks onto the
table. Bottles of Martini, Budwiser and cans of Fosters seemed to be
the unlikely mixture of alcohol at this party, and Star snatched a pair
of medium-sized glasses and poured out two Cinzano's.
 James was interrupted by a passing girl who asked him if he wanted to
dance with her. She was nice, and James was flattered, but he politely
refused and settled for a few minutes small-talk instead.
 Whilst his attention was diverted, Star slipped a tiny plastic bag of
white power out from between her breasts and tipped a generous portion
into his glass. She retured the packet to its hiding place, then waited
patiently.
 The girl with whom James was talking thanked him, wished him a good
time, glanced briefly at Star and winked, then mingled with the crowd.
 "Here." Star handed James the glass of Cinzano and he took it with
shaking hands.
 Star smiled and said, "Relax James."
 He blushed, "Sorry. I guess I'm not used to this kind of thing."
 At last, Star finished at the table and faced him. She took a sip of
her drink and this triggered James to do the same. It tasted like
battery acid, but he managed to keep his expression steady.
 Star took his glass from him and placed it with her own on the table.
She took hold of both his hands and led him (as he protested weakly)
into the crowd of mindless dancers.
 And to his surprise, James found that he could dance.

                                   *

 The bedroom door clattered open and Star staggered inside, feeling the
wall for the light switch. She was laughing and giggling and pretending
to be drunk.
 The light blinked on after a few seconds and she dragged James, (who
was dizzy and as thoroughly pissed as a tom cat), inside the room. She
slammed the door closed with a massive bang and then burst out
laughing. James took a dribbling mouthful of his beer and then choked
on it when he tried to swallow. Star uttered more chip-monk style
laughter and fell to her knees, her eyes running and her lips
glistening wet. She waded over to where James was ready to collapse and
dragged him down to her level, in the proccess, she snatched his beer
away from him and threw it across the room.
 James wiped his mouth and fell slowly forwards, Star caught him and
began to laugh, softer this time, for she was beginning to execute her
plan. She ran her hands through James' hair and pressed his face to her
chest. He moaned and for a minute, Star thought he might be sick down
the front of her dress, then she realised with a flickering smile that
he was gently pecking at her skin.
 "Great party." she whispered in his ear and he pulled back from her.
His mouth was wet and ajar and his eyes were heavy and only half-open.
 Star smiled, in that same irrisistable manner.
 "It's not finished yet." she said and kissed James' nose. He burped
pathetically and tried to say something about his dizziness but his
words were smothered by soft, wet kisses. He felt Star's tongue mingle
with his own and then forgot about his feeling of sickness and began to
concentrate on using his hands.
 It didn't take long for him to find the zipper around her back, under
her hair and it took almost no time at all for him to peel her yellow
dress open like the skin of a banana. The instant he saw her bright
white bra stare temptingly back at him, he lunged for her like a hungry
lion.
 Star began to breath faster, desperate to control him.
 "Not so fast!" she gasped, "People might hear us."
 "Jesus!" James was whispering, his hands running like explorative
spiders across Star's breasts. She glanced at the door to the bedroom
and let out a deep breath, "Alright, make it quick."
 "You're beautiful!" James said breathlessly and Star shook her head
as he fumbled around her back in an attempt to unlock her bra.
 "Hurry up for God's sake." Star muttered to herself, wishing that the
powder that she had trickled into his beer would take effect. Not many
of her victims took this long, she usually got away without having to
let the younger ones screw her brains out, but this one was certainly
getting close.
 She had a feeling he was coming to his end though.
 When Star's bra flopped down, James had to catch his breath. He stared
at the bare-topped girl with blood-shot eyes and let out a solitary
moan of what he could only describe as utter disbelief.
 Star watched him and realised his time was up.
 "Bye bye James." she said and grinned, already covering back up.
 James shook his head in protest and felt his eyelids drag themselves
down as though they were tied to the winch of a Land Rover. He let out
another desperate whisper before crashing backwards to the floor.
 Star breathed out, "Thank christ. You almost got me, James."
 And for a tiny instant, she felt just a little bit sorry for him.

                                  *

 The first thing he heard was the chirping of birds.
 Then a strong aroma of hot dogs and tomato ketchup and greasy fish and
chips wafted past his nostrils like the drifting stench of a dead cafe
owner.
 He was cold. That feeling was the worst. And he was sore, very sore,
his back felt particularly bad. He heard a sound, one that he knew he
should be able to recognise at once, but it took him a full minute and
a half to realise what it was.
 Traffic...?
 A busy road somewhere, horns blarring, tires squealing...
 At last he figured out how to open his eyes.
 He was staring at the surface of a piece of wood, green paint was
peeling from it in long tatty strips. Wincing with pain, he lifted his
head and blinked at the cloudy sky above his head. He was laying flat
on his stomach, with his arms tucked under his head like a mobile
pillow. He was aching badly, but that wasn't the worst of it.
 He was laid on a park bench somewhere, dressed in a tramp's clothing
and without the faintest idea of his name or address.
 "Help me." he whispered and his throat felt like sand paper. He
reached up with a weak hand and touched his neck gently. He went
further up and scratched at his chin, which was covered with a layer of
thick, brittle whiskers.
 He sat up slowly, like a vampire raising from it's coffin. He remained
still for a few moments, breathing steadily and calmly, whilst he gave
himself chance to observe his location.
 He was sat in a park somewhere. There were privets and flowers and
lawns of finely cut grass. It was a dull day, the clouds were not
exactly dark but the sun wasn't out and the wind was icey cold. A foot
path ran left and right from his position and in both circumstances
lead out of sight around groups of trees and bushes. Beyond the nearest
privet line, which was right in front of him, he saw the tops of
speeding cars and the upper decks of busses.
 "What the hell?" he asked himself and was surprised at his deep,
coarse voice. He began to feel the aching pains in his back more than
ever now and he tried desperately to itch his skin - but he couldn't
reach the troublesome location.
 He stood up and held on to the bench for support when his legs
threatened to give way beneath him. Eventually, he managed to balance
without aid and scan the park from his new height. He saw nothing more
than a few unfamilliar buildings and telegraph poles, but his mind
seemed to whisper little thoughts of rememberance back to him.
 "Star?" he said softly and puzzled over that word. What did he mean by
that? He sounded crazy, but at the thought of the word "crazy" the
rave-party whooshed into his brain and almost knocked him over.
 "Sweet jesus." he said and pressed his fingers to his temples in a
pointless attempt to concentrate harder. "I was dancing. I got drunk."
and the next thing he knew, Star was bare topped and he was staring at
her breasts like some sex-starved pervert.
 He remembered the lights going out. He had fallen over backwards.
 And he had faintly heard, "Bye Bye James..."
 James.
# Yes, his name was James.
 From then on, he recalled his address. And thanks to a female jogger
who was passing through the park at the time he was recovering, James
learned the time - half past eight am - and the place - Manchester -
and the most frightening thing of all, the day - Wednesday.
 The party had been held on Monday night.
 And now it was WEDNESDAY?
 He had missed a day. A whole day of his life had gone. Had he slept
all that time? Sleep-walked to MANCHESTER perhaps?
 The truthful possibilities seeped into his thoughts as horrifyingly
as the Black Death had once threatened to destroy the human race.
 If he had missed a day, been unconsious for a day, anything could have
happened to him.
# Absolutely anything.
 Panic jumped on him like an awaiting Demon from hell and he started
to breath in long, frightened wheezes. He searched his pockets, he
fumbled around in his rags for anything that might give him a clue to
what had happened over the past day, but there wasn't a single darn
item.
 He owned nothing to his name, not even a bloody cigarette lighter.
 James decided he needed to scrounge some change for a phone box.
 He had to ring his mother and get the hell back to Stone Bridge.

                                  *

 Doctor Harris peered into James' mouth with his light.
 "Mmmm," he frowned, "No change there."
 "It's my back, Doc." James said softly and sighed, "It hurts."
 James' mother, Kate Freeman, backed her son up quite impatiently.
 "Are you listening to him? It's his back he said, his back, not his
bloody mouth."
 Kate was an impatient single mother, always quick to give her son
support whenever she felt he needed it. She had a pretty face to say
she was approaching fourty and Doctor Harris found himself glancing at
her consistently, raising a smile to try and assure her he was quite a
decent (single) bloke despite his Doctor's name tag. She obviously
wasn't getting the signals though. She simply sat there, red-eyed, and
with a soggy paper tissue clutched in her hands.
 "I think your right, let's take a look at you then." Doctor Harris
said co'operatively and helped James to take his raggy shirt off. James
had only arrived in Stone Bridge fifteen minutes ago, his mother hadn't
even given him chance to change out his rags. She had  i°insisted° that
he go straight to the Doctors for a thorough examination. According to
her relaxing words, he could have been injected with poison, infected
with the AIDS virus or subjected to a serious brain operation.
 When James turned around, Harris saw at once a line of purple stitches
that ran directly down the boy's skin like a railway track, eight
centimetres in length, starting at the lower left hand side of his
back, just below his rib-cage.
 "Oh dear." he said softly and Kate leaned forwards, frowing with
worry.
 "Is he alright? My god, what's happened?" she asked and reared out of
her chair to clamp eyes on her son's back. Doctor Harris assured her
that it might not be serious, but this didn't stop Kate from breaking
down into tears again.
 James swung around and was calmly told about the stitching by Doctor
Harris.
 "We'll do an X-ray just to be on the safe side." Harris said firmly,
trying to speak clearly above Kates wails. James glanced at his mother
and tutted, then said to Harris:
 "Some girl drugged me up at a party on Monday. She led me on, you know
how it happens, then I fell unconsious and I woke up on a bloody park
bench. What do you think she's done to me? Injected me with something?"
 Doctor Harris shook his head, "No, James."
 "Then what? Cut me open for the fun of it?"
 "No." Harris sighed, "There was obviously a team of them. Clearly
professionals. The girl you met must have been their 'key' to getting
new patients."
 "Patients?"
 "Yes." Harris said and rubbed his head tiredly. "James, they've cut
you open on the left hand side of your back, the place where your
kidneys are located. I suspect they've stolen your kidney, sewn you
back up and dumped you where ever they thought convenient."
 James swallowed dryly. "Am I going to die?"
 Harris smiled and patted James' shoulder. "You'll live, kid."
 "What did they take my goddamn kidney for?" James asked, shivering at
the thought of being sliced open by Star, the beautiful girl who he had
almost managed to go to bed with. He imagined her eating his bleeding
organ like a savage cannible, then shuddered that nightmarish vision
away.
 "Human organs sell exceptionally well." Harris said, "If those guys
that cut you open are lucky, they'll make a couple of hundred from
your kidney... at least."
 "So I was swindled real good."
 "Afraid so." Harris stood up, "Lets get you X-rayed then eh?"
 "Sure." James said and followed Doctor Harris out of the room, leaving
his mother to drain herself of tears.