Chapter Five. Go to Harper's Wood?

The clock radio sounded. A song by The Bee Gees was playing as dawn flooded through the slatted blinds. Don't ever let me find you gone, coz that would bring a tear to me... He stretched his limbs across the bed feeling safe and cosy. He looked up through the window at the silver breadth above, a pair of swallows were playing tag by an overhanging maple. He smiled to himself, what a dream. I'm never drinking so much again. He raised himself on an elbow and blinked at the carnage before him, it had been real. He stepped over a collapsed bookcase and edged past the the shards of broken glass littered about from a smashed ceiling lamp. He walked to the strange painting left in his apartment from the previous night and checking his shoulder for the unfamiliar hands of people who answered to names such as Nord or Jerry he peeled back the thin paper before him. He lifted it from corner to corner and found a note from Matt. When the cubs had been younger the other side had always been their name for their forest hideaway. Could it be possible that this message was telling him to go to Harper's Wood? He rolled back the painting to look untouched and headed for the shower.

He then hit the street, knowing that time was of the essence. If he hadn't been so dead tired yesterday he could have tackled that Nord character to the ground and taken him to the two Julias. They wouldn't have known the difference surely, one loopy fruit with a connection to a made-up Dan Brown organisation is surely as good as another? As he walked he felt eyes on him, and sure enough when he sent his gaze across the street a dark figure disappeared behind a pastel blue Vespa. What a chump, thought Blissful E. Bear.

"Hey!" Blissful shouted, running towards the crouching assailant, "Hey! Wait".

The man ran faster than Blissful would have expected but he still had the gait to reach him. But the man's strength was no match for a young bear whose sole dietary requirements had been met recently by Nasi Goreng noodles and Smith & Clyde lager from Aldi. The man turned Blissful around to face him and before uttering the words, you have disapointalised us my friend, we thought we could treasure you, he used two fingers in a sleeper hold and sent him unconscious.

JH

Chapter Four. Will you live by the code?

"I am Nord of the Illuminated Society, do you accept to live and die by the code?"

"I'm sorry, but why are you in my home?"

"You are the only one who can be trusted, do you accept to live and die by the code?"

"Trusted with what?"

"Knowledge of our intentions, we have watched and trust you. Will you accept to live and die by the code?"

"I would much prefer to find my way to my large, overly comfortable double king and lay the fuck down before my head explodes but sure, if it makes you any happier, I accept."

"I will live and die by the code."

"Sorry?"

"Say the words."

"OK, OK I will live and die by the code. Now can I go and catch some Z's?"

"For now. I will be in contact, I will be watching. Stay alert, though. Soon enough you will wake up, and It will be time for your meeting."

"Meeting?"

"The Lord."

"You've met the Lord?"

"I have met the Lord."

"Terrific news. I'ma hit the hay, friend."


Now let the events that follow Blissful's deep slumber be a lesson to us all, as we clearly still haven't learned our lesson. After a long and eventful night of your lips being permanently attached to the rim of a 20oz chilled glass there is one extremely important thing to remember upon returning home the following morning. Do not take lightly the word of a man who claims to have met the Lord. Nor should you be open to the proposal of interacting with this individual at a later date. But when one's brother is missing, logic might not be at the forefront of one's mind.

MB.

Chapter Three. A Painting, Not His Own

Despite the warnings of Jerry, Blissful E. Bear ventured home. Where else was he to go? He had no money, he looked and smelled like a vagrant and his brother's face was looking more broken than Mel Gibson's ex-wife. He had to find some clues. The winter morning had given itself to cloud cover and the walk home was a cold pursuit of shelter from the howling winds of mid-July. When he reached his street he felt his nerve leave him, replaced with the cold sweet of a heart racing with fear. He reached again inside his jacket pocket and at the images of his beaten brother, took a deep breath and inched himself like a crab up the side walk towards number 63. Jerry's words don't go home, they know where you live echoed through his head. So as he reached the stoop of his house he saw that the front door had been forcibly opened and marked in felt pen with the words don't be upset. There was no turning back now.

He walked in stealthily, pushing the door open with a his house key, like cops do in hollywoodmovies to avoid disturbing the scene. The place looked like a crack den. Food strewn around from cupboards. Furniture overturned and drawers ripped from their housing of tables and hutches to give flight to hundreds of A4 sized pieces of personal documents. He tip-toed across the lounge and into the bedroom, no one. Into the en suite, again no one. He then checked the laundry and the kitchen and there was no sign of unwanted guests. He opened the pantry cupboard and took out two Asprins and reached inside the refrigerator for something to wash it down with. There was a solitary Dos Equis and some expired milk. Beer it was, nothing like hair of the dog thought Blissful. He downed the two tablets with the crisp liquid and panned his eyes across the walls and floor of the lounge. It was then that he noticed it. A painting, not his own. It was an abstract piece depicting a redheaded man with strange antennae coming from his head attaching themselves to two planets. The redheaded man was also fixed to a wooden base as if someone were mounting it as a game shot on safari. He walked across the rubbish lain floor and took in the frame and the materials of the painting. He could see one of the edges was exposing an under layer, he pulled at the canvas to reveal what was hidden. Just then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

JH

Chapter Two. Jerry Calling...

He stared on in anxious wonder. The letter was encrypted but he was sure he had seen the redhead before, her name was Julia. He had seen her on television but in looking at the three repeated images of her face he suddenly recalled something more than just inebriation from the night before. Julia had been there with her same-sex partner, also named Julia. The two had warned Blissful E. Bear against continuing any communication with the visiting alien and bid him safe passage. He checked his other pockets for any other information, a handful of change in his right pocket, a house key, no wallet. He became frantic. It was nowhere to be found. At that moment his phone started to vibrate, he stared at the name on the screen Jerry Calling... and lifted the receiver slowly to his ear.

"Hello?" he stammered.

'I...."

"Who is this?"

"I met... you... last night"

"But who are you?"

"You know what my name is... but that's unimportainable...."

"Unimportantainable?"

"Yes, precisionally, unimportainable"

"Are you aware that you're making up words?"

"Look! You can't go home, they know where you live."

"Who do?"

"The hostile aliens, they have your papers."

"What is going on? Who are you?"

"A friend, I will call again"

The person then hung up and Blissful was in the dark again.

If Jerry was really the man he had met the night before then this was truly becoming strange. He looked at the rest of the pages in the letter and immediately felt his blood run cold, there in black and white was a distressing image of his own brother etched with the words we are not going to survive. The last page showed heavy bruising on his brother's face and was signed with an anchor. He immediately scrolled down the contacts in his phone and tried calling his brother, the phone rang several times before he heard someone on the other end.

"Matt!" Blissful shouted.

"Mr Bear?"

"What have you done with my brother?"

"Mr Bear, you need to calm down."

"I swear when I get my hands on whoever this is..."

"Mr Bear, don't overestimate your own ability, do you remember the man with the Chinese cigarettes from last night?"

"What do you want from me?"

"That's simple Mr Bear. We want the man from last night, then you may have your brother."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Mr Bear, this conversation is over. You have two days."

JH

Chapter One. A Bear Walks into a Bar

It was after nine when the first signs of movement stirred Blissful E. Bear. His neck was craned uncomfortably, his head tilted upwards, mouth open as if he was catching flies. He opened his eyes and found himself to be covered in last nights filth, not all of it his own. He smelled like the love-child of a brewery and regurgitated nachos. He also noted, it seemed he had awoken in a foul-smelling receptacle of some description. He tried to maneuver himself to an upright position but his lack of coordination made his makeshift bed teeter from rim to rim threatening to collapse. He pressed down on his knees and lifted himself painfully to his feet. There he surveyed his situation. Aside from the obvious fact that he had fallen asleep in a wheelie bin, his head was pounding like the bed posts of some young lothario and his bladder was about to quit. It was the dead of winter but somehow the alcohol in his body was keeping him warm. What the fuck happened last night? He could see himself sneaking beers into a club and one of them smashing on the polished wooden floor. He pieced a series of hand shakes together and a conversation with a man who claimed he was a visiting alien, a member of the Illuminati and had a penchant for Chinese cigarettes that came in hundred packs. He awkwardly raised himself over the lid of the bin and jumped free of his enclosure just before it toppled under his own weight. Once he had relieved himself behind a tree he was then able to focus on something that had evaded him during his frantic search for a public urinal. In his jacket pocket was a four page folded letter with a wax seal stamped with the letters A.S. He opened the letter and was immediately confronted with something shocking.

JH