Lost time

It was a bright sunny day; white clouds were scudding across the sky
blown by the not so gentle wind. It wasn't the kind of day when
anything bad was expected to happen. Peter was in the garden doing some
much-needed maintenance. He had just finished mowing the lawn and was
about to begin weeding a border when he heard the front door bell
ring.
"I wonder who that is?" he muttered as he made his way round to the
front of the house. He very seldom had visitors and never before on a
Sunday. He saw a tall man; dressed in a black overcoat and under it he
wore a black suit. The man looked as if he was a government
official.
"Can I help you?" Peter asked.
The man turned to face Peter but did not remove his sunglasses so that
instead of eyes all he saw was his reflection duplicated in the dark
mirror lenses.
"I'm looking for Peter Walford." Said the stranger
"You've found him. How can I help?"
"You might prefer to speak to us in private Mr Walford."
"Us?"
The man gestured towards a black car parked outside on the road. " My
partner is in the car."
"Is this important?"
"We think so Mr Walford."
"You'd better come round the back then."
The man beckoned his partner who got out of the car and walked towards
them. He too was dressed in black and wore the same kind of
sunglasses.
"Is there a problem Mr Black?" he asked
"No. No problem here. Mr Walford has invited us into his back garden so
that we can talk to him. He says that it affords us more
privacy."
Peter took the men into the back garden and they all sat down around a
patio table.
"Now then gentlemen; what's this all about?" Peter asked.
"Mr Walford; we've had some disturbing reports about you," said the
first man
"Really? I can't think what. I spend most of my time here in the house.
I read and write but nothing political, nothing seditious."
The second man said," You write war stories don't you? I've read a
couple of your books." The first man looked at him. Peter was sure that
he was glaring at him even though his eyes were hidden.
"Ermm, yes I write war stories, spy stories and even some science
fantasy stories. Aliens and all that kind of thing."
"Do you write from personal experience?" the first man said.
"Well I did work for Military Intelligence but I'm retired from that
now. Hang on a minute though. You haven't told me who you are
yet."
"I'm Mr Black and my colleague is Mr Brown. We work for the government.
Here's my badge."
Peter examined the badge of authority; which seemed to be authentic. He
gave the badge back to Mr Black and said,
"Why's the government interested in what I write? I never write about
what I used to do."
"What about the alien stories?"
Peter laughed, " Who do you think you are The Men in Black? Look I
enjoyed the film but it was just a film. Aliens are just something to
hang a story on. I'm sure that they don't exist."
Mr Black looked at Mr Brown and nodded. Mr Brown reached into his
inside pocket and brought out a folded piece of paper.
"Mr Walford, this is an injunction against you. It prevents you from
writing anything else until we have cleared you."
"From what?" Peter demanded. "You can't stop me writing; it would be
like me trying not to breathe."
"If you don't desist then I'm afraid that you will be removed and
placed in a secure place under guard."
"I'm accused of what?"
"Conveying official secrets to an enemy as yet unnamed."
Peter didn't know whether to laugh or to get angry. However, in the
end, he laughed
"You have to be joking Take me to someone who hasn't been out in the
sun for too long; this is ridiculous."
" You'll come with us willingly?"
"Yes, if it means that I get this sorted."
He went into his house; packed a small overnight bag and locked up the
house, then sat in the back of the black car.
The drive lasted for just over three hours and it was getting dark when
they arrived at a large office block. Mr Black drove the car into the
underground car park and Peter was escorted into a plush office and
left there. He wandered around the office looking at the pictures on
the wall. He was taking a closer look at one when the door opened and a
well-dressed man walked into the room.
"Hello Peter. Good of you to come," he said as he held out his
hand.

"Simon! I should have known that you'd be behind this cloak and dagger
approach."
"Don't you like our meninblack?"
Peter shook Simon's hand and grinned at him. They had worked together
for years.
"So why not just ask me to come in to see you? Why send the two
clowns?"
"Now, Peter, if I'd phoned you and asked you to come; you know you
would have made some excuse not to come. And the " clowns " as you call
them needed the exercise."
"So what do you want Simon?"
"You've been doing rather a lot of research on aliens and UFOs
recently."
"That's right, but I'm not going to ask how you know. It's not illegal
nor is it immoral, so why call me back?"
"Let's just say that I can further your research. That is if you're
interested."
Peter chuckled; for years he had known that even Military Intelligence
didn't know everything.
"You want me to gather information for you?"
Simon went to his desk and wrote on a notepad, then said,
"Of course not. Don't be silly. We all know that the Roswell rumours
are simply that. I can help your research by telling you that it's a
waste of time. Write about the Gulf War. That's enough of a puzzle for
any writer. He handed Peter the note then shredded several sheets from
his notepad.
Peter looked at the paper he held. It simply had one name on it.
"Elliot Sands."
He put the paper into an ashtray and set fire to it then emptied the
ashes out of the window.
"So you want me to dredge up all the Gulf War Syndrome sufferers? Or is
it a lead to something else? Saddam?"
Simon said, "Let's go for that drink shall we?"

They went to the club where they both were members. Sitting in a deep
leather armchair Peter asked,
"What the hell was all that about?"
"My bug detector lit up, hence the change of subject. But I'd still not
have mentioned that name to you. Go and find him. Talk to him. He might
seem strange but he has important information in his head."

Back home Peter searched for the name "Elliot Sands." He tried the
electoral register, searching city by city, and then through the
counties, he was hoping that this person had registered for a vote as
it would make his search that much easier. As the searches made by his
computer kept giving him no results he made out a list of where he
could search next. But then there in Yorkshire he found one Elliot
Sands.

Knocking on the door of the end terrace of six houses Peter wondered
why he was there. A woman answered his knock. She looked at him with
suspicion,
"Yes?"
"I'm looking for Elliot Sands."
She turned round and yelled, "Dad" Peter could hear a mumbled reply
then the woman grudging said, "You'd better come in."
He entered, there wasn't really a hall; the stairs started almost
before he had taken a step inside. They went straight up to the upper
storey but the woman opened a door on the left.
"Wait here. He won't be long." She scurried away chiding her father for
his tardiness. Then the door to the front room opened and in came a
tall gangly man. His shock of white hair was on end; like a dandelion
clock.
"How can I help you?" he said in a surprisingly cultured voice, so
unlike that of his daughter. Peter told Mr Sands why he was
there,
"I believe you can help me. I've been told that you can tell me
something about aliens."
Elliot Sands shifted uneasily. He obviously didn't want to talk. Then
his daughter screeched,
"Dad, Rolly needs a walk."
"I'm sorry Mr," he paused, Peter hadn't introduced himself.
"Call me Peter," he prompted.
"I'm sorry Peter but I'll have to take the dog for a walk."
"Do you mind if I come with you?"
Elliot Sands looked at Peter in his suit and city shoes and
smiled.
"I don't mind but what about your clothes?"
"They are only clothes."

Elliot Sands took Rolly over the fields to a disused railway track
where he could turn the dog loose. Then Elliot said,
"I was here about ten years ago when I was abducted by aliens. I know
that plenty of people say that they've been abducted but I really was.
I used to work as the local doctor and I thought at the time that I was
missing for about six months. When I came back everyone was astonished
by the change in me. For instance, how old do you think I am?"
Peter looked at him.
"I was going to say seventy but your eyes don't look that old."
"I'm fifty this year. That woman in my house says that she is my
daughter-in-law and that my son is dead. Now I know that I didn't live
there before and that I had a young son, not old enough to get married.
I went to my old home but I was told the Doctor Sands had gone missing
over twenty years ago! His wife had brought his son and he had married
a local girl, that's the woman you saw. I convinced my son's wife that
I really was who I say I am. But how do you explain me being missing
for twenty years? And don't forget I thought that I'd been gone for
only six months, even though I'd aged in appearance twenty years. For
ten years I've been driving my self mad trying to explain this."

Peter just stared at him. But for Simon's insistence that this man
could tell him about aliens he would have dismissed Elliot as a raving
lunatic. But instead he said,
"Tell me about the six months."
Elliot began as if relieved that he was believed.
"I was in the mother ship. I was allowed to roam around it. I went onto
the bridge but I couldn't make head nor tail of the controls. I saw
what looked like operating tables and hospital wards. The aliens were
quite small, about five feet six inches being the tallest. They had
huge eyes and they said that Sol was too bright for them to stay on
Earth for long. They had very small noses and ears and their mouths
were small as well. Their eyes dominated their faces. They were pink,
as though they were perpetually blushing. They are much the same shape
as us, two arms, two legs etc. I thought that their heads were large
for their bodies. Oh and they did have hair, on their heads and arms
and legs a most peculiar colour, brownish-purple. They were kind to me
and showed me so many different things, but it was all useless, useless
because I'm an old man now." Elliot shook his head in despair and
sorrow.
Peter waited patiently for him to finish his story.

"I was missing my wife and son and they promised to return me when it
was the right time. But they were attacked by another ship and they
decided for my safety to return me immediately. They explained that I
might be out of sequence and that if at all possible they would
retrieve me and put me back in my correct time. But they haven't come
for me yet. I keep hoping."

"So they had time and space travel available?" Peter asked
Elliot nodded, his eyes anxiously scanning the horizon.
"I'll have to go and get Rolly," he said as he walked away from Peter.
Peter saw a bright light encompass Elliot and smiled to himself.

Later that night he sat in his room and began to read a book he had
been given.
" Alien Abduction," by Doctor Elliot Sands.
The preface read, "For the last ten years Doctor Sands has been
Britain's leading Science Fiction writer, basing his stories on his
revolutionary work."