This is a three-part story set in the present day.
As a Lightworker, Fay understood that the most important contribution she could make to the transformation of the world was to raise her own vibration and become more loving and forgiving of herself and others, and she worked on it every day. She also sent love and light to trouble spots round the world. But somehow it didn’t feel enough. She wanted a Mission – something to get her teeth into – and regularly reminded her spirit guides of the fact. But so far nothing was forthcoming.
One thing she did do – with or without the approval of her Higher Self – was to attempt to inform people about what was going on in the world. This sometimes brought her into good-natured conflict with her next door neighbour Edward who, as a retired science teacher, felt in a position to scorn such things as Conspiracy Theories, UFOs, Secret Space Programs, and the spiritual realm itself. Fay had given up hoping to convince him, but still felt the need to keep her end up and state her case.
On Saturday afternoons she regularly popped next door to have a cup of tea and a catch-up with Edward, and it was during one of these visits that the text from Tony came through.
‘My God, it’s Tony,’ said Fay. ‘After all this time.’
‘Your doctor friend?’
‘The one you fell out with?’
‘I didn’t fall out with him, Edward – he just stopped communicating… He wants to meet up for a walk, tomorrow. No news or anything. It’s a bit odd, really – coming out of the blue like that.’
‘He’s probably got a lot on his mind. With everything that’s happening in Africa. Will you go?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Fay, I hope you won’t take this amiss, but when you see him I suggest you don’t bring your Conspiracy Theories into the conversation. The poor man’s got enough on his plate. And you don’t want to push him away again, do you?’
‘Thanks for the advice, Edward,’ she replied, irritated.
‘Which you obviously won’t take,’ he said, laughing at her.
‘Obviously not,’ she replied, softening a little. ‘Look, I’d better get moving if I’m going to be free tomorrow. Anything you want from the supermarket?’
‘No I’m fine, dear girl.’
‘See you later, then.’
Fay and Tony had met at University – he studying Medicine, she Art History. Over the years, their friendship had been challenged on several occasions – by Fay’s decision to become a Homeopath, by their opposing views on vaccinations, by the disparity in their income, and by their failed attempt at a relationship. But due to the honesty and goodwill of both parties – and the fact that they’d both settled in the same area – it had survived and prospered for many years.
Tony had become busier and busier – busy at home, with his GP practice and GP Commissioning work, and busy abroad, with his regular stints for Doctors International in the small African state of Zimbwana.
Fay’s rural life was less busy and more flexible, so she’d got into the habit of fitting in with him, and meeting up whenever a window of opportunity opened in his schedule. As it had on a bitter January evening three years before.
They’d met up at The Black Sheep, a rural pub of golden Cotswold stone and dark, twisty oak beams. It had slumped a little over the centuries, snuggling comfortably into the land, and offered a low-ceilinged interior with dimly-lit, well-upholstered corners. They’d settled into one of them, close to a log fire.
Tony had wanted Fay’s opinion about something. The previous week he’d had a meeting with Frank Park, the billionaire turned philanthropist, who’d decided it was time to ‘give something back’ to humanity by funding healthcare for the third world. So he was setting up meetings with doctors who did voluntary work in Africa, to discuss the options.
Tony was having a bit of a struggle with the whole thing. As a socialist, he didn’t like the way Park’s billions had been made in the first place, so he was prejudiced against him. But on the other hand, if he really did want to do good in the world, shouldn’t he be encouraged to do so?
This was further complicated by Tony’s natural excitement at being singled out by such a prominent figure. He admitted his ego was flattered by the attention, and he feared this would affect his judgement – making him either too eager to please, or, if he reacted against it, unfairly negative.
What did Fay think? Any tips?
‘Well, first of all, I wouldn’t worry too much about your ego, Tony. The main thing is to be aware of it, and you are. Just don’t let it go grabbing the steering wheel and making the decisions for you.
‘As for Frank Park,’ she continued, ‘I feel much the same as you do. When you look at the way he made his billions, is it likely that such a person could have humanity’s best interests at heart? That’s a heck of a change in attitude. I don’t trust the man, Tony.’
‘But what harm could he do?’ asked Tony, ‘I mean, he wants to build hospitals and clinics, pay for running of them, pay for the drugs, pay for the staff. How can that possibly be negative?’
‘What harm? You’re asking me that question because you smell a rat, don’t you? And so do I. You should trust your instincts, Tony, because I think they’re spot-on.
‘I’ll tell you what harm,’ she went on. ‘I know you’ll call it a Conspiracy Theory, but I’ll tell you anyway. He could be acting as an agent for the Global Elite. Who may want to use Doctors International as a way of introducing pandemic disease’ – and here she took a deep breath – ‘by means of vaccinations.’
‘Oh Fay, not vaccinations again! I thought we agreed to avoid the subject!’
‘Hang on a minute. I didn’t say anything bad about the vaccinations themselves, did I? Not this time. I’m just saying they would be the perfect vehicle for introducing pandemic disease. You can’t disagree with that, surely?’
‘But why on earth would anyone want to introduce pandemic disease? Everyone would be endangered, including the Global Elite, if there is such a thing. That’s paranoia, Fay.’
‘Paranoia’s only paranoia when there’s nothing to fear. Look, Tony, the Cabal want to drastically reduce the population of the world by whatever means comes to hand, including nuclear war and pandemic disease. And they’ve said so. SARS, AIDS, Bird Flu, Swine Flu and Ebola were all created in laboratories, with that end in view.’
‘They’ve been singularly unsuccessful, then.’
‘Thank God. But don’t think for one moment that they’ve given up. And an organisation like Doctors International is ideal camouflage – because it has a reputation of being above reproach. Perfect!’
‘So you think Doctors International would just roll over on its back and allow itself to be taken over?’
‘They infiltrate, Tony! They infiltrate everything! Anything decent they think they can use, they infiltrate. Or destroy, if it’s a threat to their interests. Sometimes both.’
‘Be sensible, Fay. How are they going to infiltrate us? How are they going to use us? We’re not going to surrender control of our own organisation.’
‘No, but there’d be a contract with Frank Park, wouldn’t there? With clauses in it that undermine your control. For example, a clause that all drugs are to be provided by a particular pharmaceutical company, including vaccines. And of course, that pharmaceutical company could be under Cabal control and primed to include a virus in the mix.
‘So your lovely staff in their brand new clinics would be carrying out vaccination programs with the best of intentions, while all the time infecting your patients with the latest pandemic disease.
‘And then, once it’s rampant in Africa, they’d ‘discover’ one or two cases in the States and Europe, and suddenly it would be compulsory for everyone to have vaccinations against the disease, only – surprise, surprise! – they’d use the vaccinations to give the disease to everyone. And Bingo! Goodbye, world.’
‘Can we change the subject, please? I think you’ve said enough.’
As she thought back to this conversation, Fay wondered if she had gone too far. She did have this tendency to get carried away, which could be counter-productive – making people shut down completely in sheer self-defence.
But no. On that January evening in the Black Sheep, the issue had directly concerned Tony and his work, and she still felt justified in telling him what he might be getting into. But he hadn’t taken it well, and had remained subdued for the rest of the evening, despite her best efforts to bring him round. And after that she hadn’t heard from him again. In fact, she’d almost given up on the friendship.
But he’d been on her mind again lately, because the mainstream media were reporting a new and deadly epidemic disease originating in Zimbwana. It caused convulsions, haemorrhage and gangrene, and its official name was SHN, or Spasmodic Haemorrhagic Necrosis. But because it seemed to infect people at random with no apparent pattern, the tabloids were calling it Tombola.
The following day was sunny, and quite warm for Autumn. Fay arrived on time at the meeting place in Painswick car park, but no sooner had she switched off the engine than the passenger door opened without warning, and Tony slid into the seat beside her. She was about to protest at this strange behaviour when she saw how ill he looked, and was so shocked that she forgot to do so.
But there was no greeting, no hug, no ‘good to see you’. All he said was, ‘Do you mind driving?’
‘I thought we were going for a walk?’
‘Please, Fay. Would you mind?’
‘Yes of course, but…’
‘And can we go now?’
She started the engine.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Anywhere for the moment. Can you just drive, please?’
They drove in silence for half an hour, up into the hills, Tony giving a few sparse directions of the ‘right here,’ ‘left here’ variety, until they finally parked on high land close to an escarpment, and he got out of the car. Fay followed suit, feeling puzzled and a bit disgruntled.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I was worried that I might be putting you in danger. But I don’t think we were followed.’
The penny dropped.
‘Tony, is this about Tombola?’
‘You know, if you’re worried about the Global Elite following us or eavesdropping on our conversation, this kind of manoeuvre isn’t going to do a thing. With the technologies they’ve got, there isn’t such a thing as a private meeting or a private discussion, anywhere in the world.’
‘But don’t worry about it. Shall we walk?’
‘You’re saying I’ve already put you in danger?’
‘Tony, I’m not bothered. Honestly. Come on. Please. I want to hear all about it.’
‘But why aren’t you bothered? You’re the one who’s always saying how lethal these people are. But now that I finally see your point, you’ve gone all blasé on me!’
‘Oh, all right then. I’ll tell you. It’s because I’ve got protection.’
Tony couldn’t help looking over his shoulder and scanning the landscape, and Fay laughed.
‘Unseen protection, Tony. Angelic protection. But I’m not going to discuss it any further, because I can see I’m going to lose credibility with you all over again. So come on. Let’s talk as we go.’
And together they started along a pathway that wound through the trees, following the edge of the escarpment.
‘I expect you already know what I’m going to say, don’t you Fay? Those things you said to me three years ago… Well, I hate to say it, but you were right. I didn’t want to believe it then and I don’t want to believe it now. But you were right.’
‘Go on. What happened?’
‘Well, Doctors International said “Yes, please,” to Frank Park, and Zimbwana was one of the beneficiaries. New hospital, new clinic, new maternity suite – the works…’
‘But you were right about the contract.’
‘There was a clause specifying a particular pharmaceutical company. And I was uncomfortable about it, because of what you’d said. So I queried it, and of course he came up with all sorts of good reasons for it. But when I suggested we scrap that clause and retain the right to choose our own supplier, it turned out to be a deal-breaker. That made me even more uncomfortable, but the others on the committee thought I was being paranoid and risking the whole venture, and overruled me.
‘So… the clinic got built first, and we started a vaccination programme three months ago. And within days of starting it, the first cases of SHN appeared. God, it was awful. I was watching for it, Fay. Somewhere inside, I knew. You know the reason they’re calling it Tombola? Because the victims are random? It’s a lie. They’re not random at all. They’re the ones who’ve been vaccinated. I watched it happening, Fay. Heaven help me, I watched it happening. I kept a record.
‘So why didn’t you stop the vaccination programme?’
‘Well, I did. Of course I did. As soon as it stopped being a wild theory. As soon as the evidence was incontrovertible. You’ve got to remember, this has turned my whole world upside down. And that’s not easy.’
‘I know, I know.’
‘I had to be sure. Intellectually sure. Evidentially sure. But my intuition knew long before my brain caught up with it.’
‘It usually does.’
‘So yeah, I stopped the vaccination program, citing concerns about the vaccine batch – unexpected side-effects. But I was only at the clinic for a three-week stint, and when I left the next doctor re-started the program.’
‘But didn’t you report your findings to the other doctors?’
‘Well, I tried. God, it was awful. They looked at me as if I was… well, mad or evil or something.’
‘So what did you tell them?’
‘That there was an exact correlation between those who’d been vaccinated and those who caught the disease.’
‘And what did they say?’
‘That my evidence must be flawed. That it was pure paranoia to think that a reputable pharmaceutical company would be party to such a thing. That I’d been infected with Conspiracy Theories. I offered to show them the evidence but they didn’t want to see it. They didn’t want to know. I was shocked. We’re supposed to be rational. We’re supposed to respect evidence. But it was like I was challenging some… I don’t know – some article of faith.’
‘Well, that’s exactly what you were doing,’ said Fay. ‘Everyone thinks it’s science, but it’s not. It’s belief. Belief that those in authority are telling the truth. Belief that those in power have our best interests at heart. Belief that medical research isn’t corrupted by vested interests.’
‘Exactly. And of course, when you’ve spent your whole life acting on that belief, there’s no way you want to face up to the possibility that you might have been wrong – that instead of doing good you might have been doing harm. Some of the time, anyway. It’s unthinkable.’
‘But you faced up to that possibility. All credit to you, Tony. It can’t have been easy. I’m proud of you.’
‘I had no choice. Not with what I saw. Though I did resist accepting it for a day or two. Because it also meant accepting the fact that I was responsible for implementing the program and – and infecting the people. And that was almost too much to bear. But the longer I delayed facing up to it, the more people were infected, and the greater my guilt became… Fay, I became a doctor because I wanted to help people. I went to Africa because I wanted to help people. But instead…’
Fay saw that he was close to tears, his face contorting as he struggled to resist them.
‘Tony, you mustn’t blame yourself for this. You were deceived. You were used. But your intention was always to do good. Always.’
‘Yes, but I didn’t pay attention to any evidence to the contrary. Did I? Those books you gave me to read – I never read them, Fay.’
‘I thought so.’
‘Nor did I pay attention to my own doubts. They did niggle at me from time to time, but I brushed them aside.’
‘It would have been difficult to keep functioning in your role, though, if you had paid attention to them, wouldn’t it?’
‘Yes, but if I had paid attention to them, I wouldn’t have ended up in this position, would I? I contributed to this. Contributory negligence!’
‘Tony. Tony, listen to me. You have to forgive yourself. It’s absolutely essential that you do.’
He shook his head.
‘I… I wouldn’t know how to do that…’
And as his voice began to break, Fay turned him towards her, put her arms around him, and held him while he cried.
Afterwards they walked on for half an hour in silence, till they found a bench at the edge of the escarpment, overlooking the landscape below, and sat down.
‘Fay, I’ve got a favour to ask you. I’ll understand if you say no. No pressure, okay? You can absolutely say no.’
‘Fine, that’s understood. Tell me.’
‘I’ve made some copies of the evidence, and hidden them in various places. But I need to get it to someone who would believe it and be able to act on it. I thought you might have some idea who to contact, so I brought you a copy. I don’t know who else to ask. And I don’t know how long I’ve got.’
‘You think they’re after you?’
‘I do, yes. After all, my colleagues thought I was just being paranoid, so they won’t have been discreet about the things I said. But if you take this on, the Cabal may come after you too.’
‘That’s okay, Tony. I’ll do it. I have no idea who I can take it to at this moment, but I’ll certainly do my best.’
‘Thank you, Fay. It’s a lot to ask.’
‘It’s an honour. Thank you for asking. For having faith in me.’
And as he handed her a memory stick and she slipped it into her handbag, she felt a great rush of excitement. Her own Mission, at last!
As she drove them back to Painswick, Fay suggested they swap cars – her cute but ancient Micra for his new automatic Mercedes.
‘You know that since 2008 cars have been manufactured in such a way that they can be remote-controlled?’ she said. ‘The Global Elite have killed lots of people that way in recent years – made their cars crash into telegraph poles or go over cliffs or whatever – people they see as a nuisance or a threat.’
‘But then you’d be in danger, wouldn’t you?’
‘I told you. I’ve got protection. Anyway, I fancy your car. And I think you ought to have a taste of how the other half live. Do you good.’
And they laughed about this for much longer than it warranted, because both of them were feeling quite light-headed with relief – Tony because he’d got such an enormous weight off his chest, and Fay because their friendship was intact, and because Tony had been true to himself and kept his integrity.
The fact that the situation might cost both of their lives seemed, at that moment, just a pesky little detail.
After further discussion Tony agreed to defer to Fay’s judgement. So when they reached the car park, they swapped cars. Tony drove off in the Micra, crunching its gears as he did so, while Fay slipped into the Merc and settled down to meditate and ask for protection and guidance. She then drove home with extreme caution, collecting a tail-back of frustrated drivers on the way.
Later, she wondered why her attackers hadn’t struck straight away. Maybe they needed permission to attack her instead of Tony. Or maybe they just didn’t want any witnesses…
Part 2 soon
© Sue J Davis 2015
Please see Copyright Notice on the ‘About’ page.