Episode 1
Vidocq experiences high strangeness.
False Fatale by Field Rotation on Bandcamp - music to read along to
Detective Chief Inspector Vidocq Verone surveyed the accident scene. How on earth had anyone survived? He stood at the intersection of Granny Bard’s Lane, where it turns into Burntwood Lane, just north of Norwich, and surveyed the wreckage from the accident. A three-vehicle pileup, which included a car, a tractor (from the nearby farm of Farm Hill), and a motorbike. The fire brigade had soaked everything as they hosed down the fire, and a chill wind blew in from the north, but by some miracle, a passenger in one of the vehicles had managed to survive. Of the several things he wanted to ask the survivor, one of them wasn’t how did you manage to survive? The question he really wanted to ask was what did you see right before the accident?, but doubted he would get a sensible answer since the survivor would not be speaking intelligibly any time soon. He sighed. He was tired, and it was a cold four AM.
He told his team to supply reports by ten AM. Then, eyelids disobeying his commands to stay open, drove home. He took the, now misty, lane to the right, toward the tree-smothered Bure River. There was an open paddock on the right that seemed like it might be a quick way back to Norwick, and Wroxham Road where he lived―the northeast end of Norwick.
What had a tractor been doing on the road at four in the morning? The car driver and the motorcyclist could probably provide more reasonable justifications for their early morning jaunt, they were going to catch an early train at Norwick Station, most likely.
The traffic people set up roadblocks at the Primrose Lane end of Granny Bard’s Lane, and the Heggatt Road intersection at the end of Burntwood Lane, diverting traffic (if there was any yet; if not there was sure to be soon) onto other roads until the accident team cleared the wreckage. Probably take a few hours. He hoped he wouldn’t meet any traffic before he got to Wroxham Road.
Taking a left curve in a forested area, he met a sight that astonished him. A bright light was in the middle of the road. At first, he thought it was a bus with its headlights on full glare. But he couldn’t think of a reason why a bus would be on this lane at this hour. On closer inspection, it was a single light, discounting the bus idea. He decided to berate whomever it was parked in the middle of the bloody road! It could be a farmer, he supposed, but he didn’t think so.
Was it the military? They sometimes used the area for military games, but he wasn’t aware of any scheduled games, he would have been informed. There would have been more military people around too, and the entire lane would have been busy. He grabbed a torch and stepped from the car.
He glanced round the area but didn’t see anyone else. Mist seeped through the trees, and no other vehicles were around. It was just the light. He sighed and for the first time noticed just how silent everything was. There was no sound emanating from the light, not even the hum of an engine. No night sounds, no forest sounds. This puzzled him. It didn’t make him nervous, but it did make him wonder what the hell was going on.
He called out to whoever was responsible, but silence was all he got in return. He scratched his head and decided to head toward the light, but got no further than one step. His eyes bulged at the sight of a person silhouetted against the light; it wasn’t a police officer or someone in the military. He frowned and shaded his eyes with one hand to get a better look at them. His heart skipped a beat as he did.
He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, thinking he was imagining things. He was tired, it was an hour or two before dawn, perhaps his brain was screwing with him. Or maybe he was hallucinating?
He suddenly remembered he had a torch and switched it on. The beam from the torch was no match for the bright light of the object, if it even was an object―what else could it possibly be―but still couldn’t properly see whoever it was that was standing before it. He groaned and said, “Look, I’ve no time for this. Move your vehicle, I need to get through.”
No answer.
He took another step and this time kept walking until the torch was strong enough to reveal the face of the person silhouetted against the light. His jaw dropped and so did the torch, clacking as it hit the road. Every instinct told him to leave, but found he couldn’t move. He was frozen where he stood, and no matter how much he tried to make his legs move, they just wouldn’t. Then everything went black.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been out for, but knew it must have been longer than a few minutes. He didn’t know how to test that though, as he hadn’t looked at his watch before everything went black. He assumed he had fainted or something. It was the only thing that could account for it. He vaguely remembered it had been around four AM and had been dog tired. So, yeah fainted. The question was why?
As his eyes adjusted to his surroundings, he realised he wasn’t lying on the road, he was in a room. A dimly lit room. He strained to see all around, but didn’t see anything of note, in fact, the room was completely grey and had no windows. What the hell was this? Just as he tried to sit up, part of the wall appeared to vanish (well, he didn’t see it open like a door), and what he saw beyond was breath taking, and shocking. He could see the Earth through the opening, the whole planet, like he was in space. He shook his head to clear the vision away. He was hallucinating, that’s what he was doing. Must have hit his head. The image of Earth faded, and a room materialised in its place. “What the hell is this?”
From what he could tell, it looked like a hospital operating theatre. He had seen a few in his time. There was a bed and soft spotlights highlighting something … no … someone who was on the operating table. Was he in hospital? Was he in an accident? He’d fallen asleep at the wheel! Shit! He’d be suspended, for sure. Oh God, he hoped he hadn’t killed anyone.
He sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the person who had been standing on the road, now stood by the operating table staring at him. Then he noticed there were others, some different, crowding the operating table.
“What the hell is this?” Then louder, “Oi! Who the hell are you? What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?”
One of the people (the uniforms made him assume they were military though he had no idea who they were), leaned forward. They wore a stern expression, and crossed their arms, legs astride, but their faces were blurry somehow – was something wrong with their faces? Or was it him? His eyes were playing tricks on him, that must be it. He shivered.
“Why am I here? And why can’t I move properly?”
His questions went unanswered, but his eyes widened as one of them came to the side of the bed, his arms and legs were strapped to a gurney and his anger spiked. He yanked at the restraints, hoping they would come loose. The blurry face looked down at him, but he wasn’t sure if they stared or smiled. They still didn’t say a word, just stared blankly. The sight of the blurry face staring at him made his stomach churn. He was a Detective Chief Inspector, for Christ’s sake! “I’m DCI Verone, can you please tell me who you are?”
Still no answer.
“Look, I’m a police officer. You can’t hold me here against my will; you’re breaking the law!”
The person tilted their head as if to say, I can hear you, but I don’t know what to say, or can’t, or won’t say.
“You’ll go to prison for this! I will personally hold you accountable. You’ll do time!”
But the person either ignored him or couldn’t speak. Verone had the oddest thought: perhaps they don’t understand English? He wanted to scream, but instead, started chuckling. He’d decided he was either hallucinating, or he was dead. No sane person would accept this as normal.
Then the person had something in their hand―the hand looked normal enough to him, but his fear spiked as he realised the hand was holding a drill. What were they intending to do with it? Panic set in, he writhed and cursed, trying to make it as hard as possible for them to do what he suspected they were about to: drill a hole in his head.
All of a sudden, the light changed, and was more like a torch being shone in his eyes. Shit! He thrashed like a drowning man and screamed at the top of his lungs for them to stop. The light flicked off. He squinted waiting for his eyes to adjust. The person leaning over him no longer had a blurry face, but he was still trying to fend them off. In fact, the man was someone he knew. “What?”
His eyes had adjusted enough for him to see the distinct outline of his car. Looking around further, he saw the man who had shone a light in his eyes. He stood by the car and rubbed the side of his face wearing a perplexed expression. There were others, police officers, and they were all gawking at him. He suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Vidocq, it’s me, Constable Appleby,” the man who had held the torch said. “You fell asleep at the wheel sir.”
“What?” Verone was sure something else had happened. “Bullshit.”
“Can you get out?” Appleby stepped back and waited for him to exit the car. “This’ll be good,” Appleby muttered to another officer.
Verone stood by his car, checked himself over and surveyed the area. He was in the middle of the road with forest all around. Jeezus! Maybe he had fallen asleep, after all.
“Did you have anything to drink last night sir?” Appleby asked.
“What? No. I attended the accident down the road.” He snatched a look at his watch, but it had stopped. “It was just after four AM when I headed home.” He frowned.
Appleby gave him a look that said are you sure, and squinted at him. He waved the others away, and edged closer to Verone, who was now leaned against the car. He spoke in a whisper. “That was the day before yesterday, sir. Where have you been?”
“What? The day before … what the hell are you talking about?”
Appleby shook his head. “You’ve been missing since you attended the accident. No one knew where you’d gone. They tried your home; they tried your neighbours. Then someone saw you here, parked on the side of the road and … called us.” Appleby sighed. “What were you doing here?”
Absolutely stupefied, Verone managed to mutter, “I was going home.” He scratched the back of his head and looked around. “I, ah … I don’t understand how I managed to be here for a day and a half, and no one saw me until this morning.”
“Did you go anywhere else? I mean, did you go to a pub, and maybe forgot you meant to go home?”
Verone stared hard at Appleby. “I don’t know, Firth. I honestly don’t know.” Then his mind filled with the images of what he had seen. He started shaking, fell back against the car, groaned and slumped to the ground. The distant urgent voices of Appleby and the other officers echoed around him until they faded from hearing.