Third Person Point of View

He walked over to the Arrivals and Departures board, and checked the time of his train for the fiftieth time. As he scanned down the list of times, he suddenly became aware of his reflection in the plastic covered board. The person staring back was slim and short, about five feet and two or three inches, and appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties. He was balding on the top of his head, but still had plenty of dark hair around the sides. He wore no glasses, but did appear to be squinting to focus on the board. His clothes were dark, and had obviously been purchased some years ago. Curiously though, his boots looked brand new. His neck was bundled up in an old thick scarf, and his hands were buried deep in the pockets of his thick baggy overcoat. Unlike most of the other passengers on the platform, he carried no luggage at all.

Just as he was about to step away, Henry noticed his reflection's eyes. They were pale and watery, bloodshot with heavy bags beneath them. But there was something else. To Henry they didn't seem to be his eyes at all. It was as if he was looking at the eyes of someone familiar, but not his own. He didn't know how, but he knew that recognising whose eyes they were would be bad for him.

A small seed of panic began to germinate in his stomach. He took a quick step backwards, away from the board, and a porter with a large trolley full of bags said, "Watch your back mate" as he nearly walked into him. Henry swung around, and was immediately alert. What did that mean? Had the porter noticed someone watching him? Was someone following him? His eyes darted about the platform, checking out the crowd. It was only then that he realised, in horror, that they were ALL watching him! How had he missed it? They looked away when he looked at them, but he could tell. They were Them, and Henry knew Them.

His heart raced, his head spun, and his hands became clammy. What was he going to do? This was exactly what he had dreaded would happen. He knew he had to get out somehow. He was pretty sure that if he could just get outside, he could outrun Them. He knew he was a fast runner, and he had outrun Them before. Very slowly, trying to appear casual, Henry edged towards the exit. He was terrified, but his sense of survival was greater than his fear. It was only this that had kept him alive this long. After what seemed like hours, he realised he was only a few feet away from the exit. He decided he needed some sort of distraction, so he let out a glass-breaking shriek, and launched himself through the big double doors. Still screaming, and without looking back, Henry ran at full speed away from the station.

The people on the platform looked up in vague curiosity, and then forgot all about him and went back to their newspapers and conversations.

Henry managed to get all the way home without anyone stopping or catching him. However, he was fortunate not to pass any policemen on the way. They were always difficult to get past, and he had ended up in a cell several times before for what they called 'resisting arrest', but what he called 'trying to stay alive'. It was December though, and raining heavily, and Henry passed few people on his way. It was a fifteen minute walk from his house to the station. He made the return journey in just over five minutes, maintaining his athletic pace and warrior cry all the way. As he fell through the door of his second floor flat, all he could think of was his aching lungs and burning throat. Yet even in this state, he made sure to lock the door securely behind him before allowing himself to finally collapse on the floor.

For about ten minutes Henry could not move. He simply lay on the old, rough, dirty carpet of his flat, staring up at the smoke stained ceiling. Paint was peeling from it, and bits of plaster had fallen away after countless residents in the flat above had lived their various lives there. Gradually, as he gazed at the old ceiling and pondered his lucky escape, his breathing started to return to normal, and his heartbeat slowed to a less dangerous pace.

The flat was cold, especially down on the floor, and Henry, covered in rain and sweat, began to shiver. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt like sandpaper. He crawled into the kitchenette, and turned on the cold tap. Too thirsty to get a glass, he stuck his head under the faucet and drank steadily for half a minute, letting the cool water run over his flushed face at the same time. Finally he turned off the tap, and sank to the floor again. He was suddenly aware that his legs were no longer able to support him. They felt numb, and Henry feared he may have done some permanent damage. But slowly, life began to return to his lower limbs, and very unsteadily, he got to his feet again. He knew they would be painful tomorrow, but that was the least of his worries right now. He had to call William. He had to explain why he was not on a train heading South, as he was supposed to be.

With shaking hands, Henry picked up the receiver, and dialled William's number. After only two rings, a voice answered, "Yes?"

"William, it's Henry."

"Have you arrived already? I thought your train wasn't due for another hour yet."

"No, William, I'm still in London. I didn't catch the train. There was a problem."

Silence filled the other end of the line, and Henry's already fast heartbeat picked up a step. He knew this was going to be bad. When the voice came again, it was low and strained.

"So what happened this time then?"

"Well…I…um…first of all the train was late and I got there on time but there was some sort of problem and it was so noisy that I couldn't hear the announcements so I didn't know why the train was late and then this porter gave me a message that someone was watching me and when I looked around I realised the platform was filled with…with…with THEM, and they were all watching me so I escaped and ran all the way home and managed to get away from Them and I don't think They followed me but I don't want to risk going out again yet….."

Henry trailed off, finally out of breath. Again there was silence on the other end of the line. Henry's heartbeat picked up another couple of steps which made his chest ache, and his head started to swim.

"William? Are you still there?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here. It sounds like you had a very narrow escape. And this is the third time this month something like this has happened. It appears They are stepping up their campaign, just as we suspected They would. Damn! This is such a critical time too."

Henry's heartbeat started to slow again. It sounded like William wasn't too angry with him after all.

"What do you want me to do William?"

"Well, I think you're going to have to stay in London for the time being. They seem to be intent on keeping you there anyway. I'll see if there's any way I can get to you instead. Don't leave the flat unless you have to, and try and keep this line free. I'll be in touch."

With a click, the line went dead. Henry hung up the phone, and sunk into his faded red armchair. He was relieved that William hadn't been as angry as he had thought he would be. He hoped he would be able to get here soon. He suddenly felt very vulnerable. He glanced over at the one small window of the flat, and realised it was starting to get dark outside. Carefully, trying not to stand directly in front of the window, Henry pulled the curtains closed, then switched on a weak lamp on the floor beside the armchair. He flopped back down into it, and pulled a thick old blanket over himself. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

BANG BANG BANG! Henry awoke with a jump. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, but he could see through the crack in the curtains that it was now completely dark outside. The banging came again. There was someone at his door. Henry did not move or make a sound, but his heart was beating as fast as when he had run home earlier that day. So they HAD followed him home after all, he thought. How on earth was he going to escape this time? Just as he was seriously considering jumping from his second floor window, a female voice called out, "Henry? Are you in there? It's me, open up!"

As his whole body relaxed, Henry realised it was only Marianna. He jumped out of his chair, and almost collapsed on the floor as his tortured legs ceased up. Looking rather like a crab, he painfully made his way over to the door. Straightening himself up, he undid the chains and bolts on the door, finally turning the key and pulling the door open. Marianna immediately threw her arms around him. Henry quickly pulled her into the flat, and secured the door again.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"William called me. He said he didn't want to call on your line again, in case They were monitoring it now. They seem to know all your movements, so They obviously have some surveillance on you."

Henry glanced over at the window again.

"Do you think They know who you are? If They're watching the place They must have seen you come in."

"Well, I could have gone to any flat in this block, and I didn't see anyone on the stairs," she said. "I think I'm safe at the moment. That's why William felt safe to call me. He doesn't think They'll be watching me, only you."

"What did William say?"

"Just to stay put for now. He's trying to work out a way to get here either tomorrow or the next day. There's not much we can do until he gets here though. Just stay out of sight, and be on the look out."

"Right. Are you going to stay here tonight then?"

Marianna smiled. "I'd love to, but I have to get home for Nancy. I only popped out for five minutes to give you William's message. I'll come back tomorrow when she's at school, ok?"

Henry smiled too, and gave her a hug.

"Ok."

As he unlocked the door once more to let her out, he said, "Take care."

Looking serious, she replied, "Of course."

As soon as she was gone, Henry quickly relocked the door, then turned off the lamp and peeked through the curtains. The little window was dirty on both sides, but he wiped it quickly with the bottom of his shirt, and saw Marianna slip out of the building and cross the road. When she reached the other side, Henry thought he saw a movement in the shadows. As he was straining to focus on the darkness, a figure suddenly emerged from a doorway, threw something over Marianna's head, and pulled her inside.

"NO!" screamed Henry. For the first time he wished his door was not so securely locked. It took so many valuable seconds to get the door open. Then he was leaping down the stairs two and three at a time. When he reached the bottom he nearly collided with the floor, but somehow managed to stay upright, and crashed through the door onto the street. Before he could cross the road however, he heard a noise, felt a sharp pain on the back of his head, and passed out.

The first thing Henry became aware of when he regained consciousness, was that he was incredibly cold. Gradually, he realised that this was because he was laying on a cold, damp, concrete floor. He tried to open his eyes, but they appeared to be covered with something. He tried to sit up, but two things stopped him; his arms and legs were bound, and his head was throbbing and swimming. Slowly, he remembered what had happened. He tried to call out for Marianna, but discovered that his mouth was also gagged.

For a couple of minutes he rolled about uselessly on the floor. Then he heard a voice. His head was still spinning, and the voice sounded muffled and unclear. When the voice realised it was not getting a response from Henry, it stopped. Then without warning, Henry's face was hit with a gush of cold water. His head cleared immediately. The voice tried again.

"Now, are you going to be a good boy?"

Henry nodded slowly. He didn't recognise the voice in particular, but he did recognise the tone. It was Them.

"Good. I'm going to take off your blindfold and gag, but if you start misbehaving I'll just knock you out again. Do you understand?"

Henry nodded again. For the moment, his mind had gone blank. He could not seem to focus it on anything. As the owner of the voice approached, Henry smelt the unmistakable smell of fruit. That was what gave Them away. They needed to eat so much of it to survive here, They always had that smell hanging around Them. Rough hands pulled off the blindfold and gag, and Henry squinted in the suddenly bright light.

"Where's Marianna?" he asked immediately.

"She's perfectly fine. We took her home."

As his eyes became accustomed to the light, Henry got his first look at his captor. He was tall, as They all were, with dark hair and bright eyes. He wore a dark suit, and a warm heavy coat. He looked young, about mid-twenties, but Henry knew that those looks were deceiving. His voice was deceiving as well. It was smooth and seductive, but if you knew what to listen for, you could hear the tones that have Them away. Henry's mind began to focus a little.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"You may call me Alsam. I will be asking you a few questions, and then you will be free to go."

Alsam smiled, and Henry shivered. He knew it was unlikely that he would be released unharmed, and his chances of escaping were pretty slim. He couldn't think of anything to do right now though, other than go along with Them. Alsam sat down on a chair opposite where Henry still sat on the floor. He did not take off his coat.

"Let's begin then," he said, smiling again. "Why don't you tell me which train you were waiting for this afternoon."

Henry said nothing, wondering if he could get out of this by simply refusing to answer their questions.

"Come on Henry, you know that if we took the lovely Marianna home, then we know where she lives. I don't need to go into any more detail do I?"

Henry closed his eyes in defeat. "I was just there to meet someone."

"Who?"

"I don't remember. You cracked my head pretty hard you know." Henry smiled inside, knowing they couldn't disagree with that.

"I see," said Alsam. "Do you remember which train your friend was arriving on?"

"He wasn't arriving on a train, we just decided to meet at the station."

"So it was a male friend you were waiting for then?"

Henry said nothing. This wasn't going to be as easy as he had thought.

"Was it perhaps, your friend William who you were meeting there?"

Henry flinched visibly. They knew about William. Alsam noticed the response.

"So it was William. Good, we are starting to get somewhere. Now, why was he coming here?"

"I don't remember."

"Where was he coming from?"

"I don't remember."

"Was he arriving alone?"

"I don't remember."

Alsam fell silent for a minute, and Henry's hopes raised a little. Maybe he was going to give up.

"You don't remember much, do you."

"I told you, it was a pretty hard knock."

"Yes. Well, I think we may have something that can help you get your memory back in that case." Alsam stood up and walked over to the door. "I'll be right back."

When he had gone, Henry struggled to his feet. He looked around the room to see if he could find any way out. The room was small, only about fifteen feet square, and appeared to be made entirely from concrete. There were no windows, and no openings in the floor or the ceiling. The only door was the one Alsam had just left through. There was a single bulb hanging in the centre of the room, which was unusually bright. Apart from the light switch on the wall by the door, all the walls were bare. The floor was damp, as if it regularly became flooded, suggesting it was below ground level. The only furniture in the room was a table and chair, where Alsam had sat. There was an empty glass on the table, which Henry supposed had contained the ice cold water that had been thrown in his face.

Henry continued looking around the room, but his eyes kept drifting back to the glass. Could he use that? If he broke it, he thought he might be able to use it to cut the bindings on his hands. He might also be able to use it as a weapon. Carefully, Henry picked up the glass, and dropped it on to the floor. As it shattered he quickly looked up, to see if anyone outside the door had heard the noise. No one appeared, so he began checking the remains for a useful piece. What was left of the bottom of the glass seemed perfect. The bottom was still intact, with a large jagged piece jutting up from it.

Henry picked it up, and sat down on the floor away from the rest of the glass. Clamping the glass between his feet, he very carefully began to rub the rags around his wrists against the sharp edge. It did not take long to cut through, and Henry's hands were soon free. He quickly untied he feet, and was free at last. He picked up the broken glass again, and held it carefully, so that he could use it if Alsam came back.

He walked quietly over to the door, and listened. He could hear no sounds from the other side, so he carefully turned the handle. The door was not locked! Opening it just a crack, Henry peeped outside. He could not see anybody. Gradually he opened the door bit by bit, checking all the time. When he was sure there was no one outside, he slipped into the corridor and closed the door behind him. Quickly he looked from side to side. At one end the corridor came to a dead end. Far off at the other end was a flight of steps going upwards. There were several more doors like the one behind him along the corridor, all closed as far as he could tell. He realised that he had only one choice, and that was to head for the steps.

Henry decided speed would be the advantage here, and as his boots had rubber soles, he knew he could probably run along the stone corridor without making much noise. So, taking a deep breath, he started running as quickly and as quietly as he could towards the stone steps. With each door that he passed, Henry expected one of Them to come leaping out and grab him, but to his amazement he managed to get to the steps successfully. At the bottom he paused, listening again. He could still not hear any sounds at all, so he decided to risk it and run up the steps.

There was only one flight of steps, with one turn midway up. At the top was another door, much like the ones in the corridor. Here Henry paused again, with his ear to the door listening. Again he did not hear a sound, and so he very gently eased the door open. It led out onto a street. Henry poked his head through the gap and looked both ways. It was still dark outside, but there was no one to be seen in the alleyway. Taking his chance he slipped through the door, closed it behind him, and ran towards the road at the end of the alley. As he reached the road he looked back to make sure there was no one following him. The alley was empty. Still looking behind him, Henry ran out into the road. The car hit. Everything went dark.

In the distance Henry could hear people talking and sirens ringing. But it all sounded very far off. When he opened his eyes, he could not focus on anything. He was vaguely aware of a pain in his legs and chest, but that seemed very far off too. Then he noticed someone standing beside him. It was a man, who looked a lot like Henry had done when he was younger. He was smartly dressed, and was the only thing in focus. There appeared to be a bright light behind him somewhere. He smiled at Henry, and Henry smiled back. The man spoke,

"Are you ready Henry?"

"Yes." He replied.

The man smiled again and reached out his hand towards him. Henry closed his eyes again.

Dr Noa read the medical report carefully. He wanted to be absolutely sure of all the facts before signing the death certificate. The patient's name had been Henry Williams. He had apparently died after being hit by a car travelling at approximately 40 miles per hour. The paramedics had declared him D.O.A. According to the notes in the file, Mr Williams had been suffering from schizophrenia for 10 years, and although he was being prescribed medication, he was known to go for long periods of time without taking it. The autopsy had confirmed that at the time of his death he had no medication in his system. Included in the report were some details of his delusions. He had at least 2 other personas, a friend called William, and a girlfriend called Marianna. He also believed that the Earth had been invaded by aliens who had disguised themselves as humans and were planning to take over the World. He claimed that these aliens knew that he was aware of their plans, and that they were trying to kill him to stop him spreading his knowledge.