Chapter 17 - The Eclipse; Abels Last Stand

Chapter 17 - The Eclipse; Abels Last Stand
Liptons maths was barely needed. Drawing a straight ley line through our two previous meetings with Abel, through Exmoors Pitt, across Challice Hill and the tor, crossed Cley Hill. This is where more UFO sightings are made than anywhere else in Britain, perhaps the world. An ancient site variously used by Bronze Age people, sculpted to an Iron Age hill fort and throughout history by various other cultures it stands, alien to its landscape between Warminster and Frome. A sudden pair of hills on a otherwise rolling plane. A place where Mystics commune. This time we would meet Abel on our turf. We knew its shape, the Iron Age hill fort defences, the secondary mounds behind, hidden from the road. Here was where our last stand would be made.
Over the month of our murder mission we had been fuelled by the most powerful yet corrosive substance I have known. First time I tried ethylphenidate I had such heartburn from oral roa I could not contain the pain. Sold as a research chemical this substance became very popular. Once found, however, it's sweet spot, the correct dose for an individual, it was, sensation wise far superior to amphetamine. More like cocaine but lasting several hours. Snorted, I single line could leave ones nostril scabbed and running for weeks. Many took to plugging the drug. Mucous membranes inside the anus take the drug to the system as swiftly as insuffation but if the damage to the nostril was anything to go by the internal damage must be similar. God only knows what inspired our intra veinous use. Most Internet forums suggested this was terribly dangerous as it is. Yet, the odd psychonaut was experimenting. Methylphenidate is Ritalin, the ADHD drug given to children. However it's ethyl sister was extremely corrosive. Various types flooded the Internet market, first powder, then crystal, then glass, then snowball rock. All, to a greater or lesser degree, had a three way effect as a dopamine, neuradrenaline and serotonin re uptake inhibition. The purity of the product was in the 90% region, usually claimed 99% purity, often true, though whatever cleaning processes involved varied. One felt powerful. Euphoric. Fearless.
Injecting in to the vein was the most dangerous drug administration I have ever undertaken and also the most powerful rush. It left you unable to move for fear of heart attack. Unable to speak such was its magnitude. But once assimilated a human could feel god like. It was this period that stopped my drug experimenting. God only knows what damage I did. My body still carries scars. Smoother, once levelled off, after the initial rush, than speed it left one with boundless energy. Able to carry out any task indefinitely. My habit lasted three months before I escaped for my shamanic retreat.
Never do what we did. It will either kill you or shorten your life. Years of experimentation have hardened us. Our shamanic powers can heal ourselves, given time. Several times I thought I had killed myself. People who witnessed the aftermath say I looked like a stroke victim. Yet we had to save mankind. Our deaths were unimportant. If it took this extreme measure to kill Abel then we were duty bound, under oath to take whatever meens. Think of World War II RAF pilots, knowing only half would survive, entering the skies to destroy the nazi menace. Ours was a mission of equal importance. Amongst our mates, only Jesus understood. He had given up his life for man. We may need to too.
The eclipse was only partial yet some 75%. Light would dim, just as darkness fell in daytime as Jesus crucifixion took place. The first touch of planetary crossing was to be 8 am. Fullest at 9.30.
The previous night Lipton and I prepared. We had no AL -LAD opting for the new 1p-LSD. It's colder whiteness gave a silver, religious gleam to everything. A more Christian feel. Though shamans we had JC on side. Jesse would know of our final stand. Photographing every opening we sent messages to him. Pleading for Ely to join us. Any intervention he could provide. After injecting ethylphenidate we spent two hours in prayer, as Jesus had told us. We had no plan. No guaruntee Abel would show. Yet these moments of power are rare. If we could not summon up this devil in disguise at Cley Hill during eclipse we were not able to claim we were shamans, never mind the archangel status Jesse had promised us. Jesus hadn't mentioned this but he seemed quite settled, having little truck with his father who, suffering clinical depression, abandonment of those whose worship had grown perverted. His message about the folly of materialism had all but vanished. Mankind wanted cars, watches, iPads, over crafted furniture, smart phones, and their hunger for growth and material excess was causing the extinction of all other life forms. Some hung on, rats, cockroaches, flies but many of his wonders were being destroyed by western mans eternal material hunger. God, now only had truck with isolated tribes. Cultures still existed untouched. It was here the big guy kept his faith in man. This disease of greed wasn't endemic. Not inherent to all cultures. Some peoples managed cyclic, animal lives, harmonious to their environment. Yet western man, having arrogantly dreamed their minds could transcend their bodies, now believed, as a life form, they could transcend environment. This ludicrous notion had spread. Any animal, any life form on earth was an expression of its environment. To seperate the two was to seperate soul from body, mind from flesh. But western man was doomed. Our duty was to stop Abel. But not for these fucking bastards. No, our duty was to the Amazonian tribes. The south sea islanders. Once Abel had destroyed all western women through his gyrations of orgasmosis, a power to crank up their climax to euphoric death, he would be off for mans hidden secrets. Those special people's, few and hidden who had avoided materialism. We cared not for the straights. They'd plagued our lives. But once at peak power our sole representatives, these few tribes still able to show man a worthy animal. Abel would draw no distinction. Elvis was his God and Elvis took his pick of women. Freinds wives, thirteen year olds. So too Abels boundaries weren't existent.
To prevent heart attacks we sedated with benzos at 4am. Took final hits of ethyl, loaded up our 1p-LSD and a whole bunch of kit as before. Nets, ropes, lassoed, bolas es, knives, rounders bats and liptons favourite. A three foot staff with his samurai sword blade attached to its end. I took my trusty estwing hammer and hatchet, two knives for close combat, and my samurai sword, hungry for demon blood.
Tooled up and fired by supernatural energies delivered from the ethylphenidate, sculpted by benzos and special brew, we were out to kill or die trying. There was only a single van as we arrived in the car park at 7am though some 200 people came out that day. From Druids, to students, hippies to telescope laden astronomers, crusty Mystics, to shamans. The sole common thread was an interest in the eclipse. It struck me that, despite the diversity of people, not a single knobhead came to Cley Hill that day. Where else, in any area of ones life can one claim that.
First we ascended the hill, checking out the hiding spots, the weather sculpted Iron Age fortifications. Patches of brush, the odd tree. The secondary lower mound that backs on to a small forest. We knew the area but reacquainted ourselves for any eventuality. As slowly people assembled, the area so large, it lost the 200 in to small groups, each seeking privacy for their own reasons.
Kneeling down to say a final prayer I looked to Lipton. 'Are you ready for this?', liptons eyes shone brighter than they had ever done. 'I am most ready, bring us death or bring us glory.' We dropped 400ug of the LSD at 7.45, timing it to peak around eclipse summit.
A brooding sky precluded our sight of the early sun. The whole morning sky never grew from those blue, grey, black bruised flesh shades yet patches were thinning.
Having surveyed the ground for the final battle. Confident in as much as we could do no more, we retreated in to the woods by the secondary hill. Sat by a gorse tree we saw a filthy looking crusty. 'I know that cunt,' Lipton enthusiastically Stated. Jesus was there. Fucking beauty.
'I fucking knew you'd not let us down.' ' Would I miss a day like this fucker?' He replied, with his warm Palestinian smile.
'Crack the fucking ethyl then, you tight cunts. Been dieing to try this fucker out for ages.'
'Its corrosive, mate, you do know how damaging it is?'
'Look, if crucifixion couldn't do me in I doubt your fucking powders will. Besides, I'd be back up before you know it.'
Opening our rucksacks we got out a spoon, tipped a small 100mg in. Jesus just over rode our concerns, 'give it fucking here.' Tipping a gramme in we passed awed glances. A certain death dig for us mortals, seasoned or not.
'Your shout, JC. Hell of a hit your doing, mind.'
'Look boys, if I need your advice I'll fucking ask.'
Gathering dew from the trees and grass he proceeded to cook up his almighty hit. Passing him my pin, he dropped in a torn off piece of fag filter and drew the syrup up in to the syringe.
Looking at his arms, fucked up by abuse and stigmata from large nails in both palms and wrists it was clear we need not worry. His undernourished arms showed large protruding surface veins. Wrapping his rags to tourniquet his arm seemed unnecessary. Hitting vein he drew back red wine blood that spiralled with the clear fluid, before plunging home his hit.
Indeed, in a horrific fit christs face distorted, his heart was failing. Seizures ripped through his fragile frame. His eyes rolled up beyond his sockets as his body contorted before collapsing back on to the grass.
Feeling for a pulse or any air from his nostrils Lipton confirmed. 'Fucking hell, the cunts gone over. He's dead. I knew we should have stopped him. Now it's just us two against that hell spawn. We are fucked, Skree, fucked!'
A minute of mourning and tears followed. Our spirits crushed. Then his shrouded corpse began to stir. Sitting up confused the son of God shook his head. He was resurrecting.
'Jesus Christ!' The lamb of god exclaimed as the powerful rush hit home. 'That hit the fucking spot. Now lads, let's sort out this demon of yours.'
Never let it be said Jesus is a light weight when it comes to drink or drugs. Me and Lipton exchanged a glance that silently said, this guys a fucking mentalist.
We began our return to the summit to pick our spot.
'He's travelling ariel, he's bound to hit peak eclipse.' Jesus told us. He seemed totally unphased by his recent death.
'You ok, JC.?'
'Course, lads. No probs. nice up there, mind, white light and that. Angels and shit, you know.'
Most of those drawn to the eclipse had sought high spots leaving the hollow of the hill fort centre for our dark mission. We found some cover as the passing of the planetary alignment began. Across the area, women began to gasp and moan. Some reaching loud climax. He was on his way.
As the day darkened, clouds opened up in breif windows revealing the sacred eclipse. Fortifying ourselves with Jesus free wine we waited.
'Were going to have to take this one as it comes. He'll know we are waiting.' I said, fear prickling my skin.
'Chill out, knobhead. It'll be reet.' Jesus reassured us.
'What, like last time. You fucking legged it.' Lipton unhelpfully added.
'Just chill,' and to be fair as the acid took hold, whether it was Jesus chilled out vibes or the wine we did calm. I recalled from my boxing days, the walk to the ring, after vomiting in the changing room was terrifying, yet once in the ring, realisation that there is no way out, a calm would descend on me. All bar my opponent would disappear from my consiousness. It was a calm of the condemned.
Our hillock and bushes formed a fragile shield for us to look down in to the hollowed out center. A natural arena for battle.
As eclipse approached, we scattered our various weapons around the site, hidden in rabbit scrapes, tucked in holes. By now most men had seemingly succumbed to a whirring from the air. All females by now were fully lost in sensory joy, now the men folk too were feeling a stirring in their loins.
'Dirty bastard,' Jesus said, we all looked down embarrassed at our trouser bulges. 'Think of church, politicians, Pythagoras anything you don't connect to sex.'
Forcing our minds to calm our erections took deep meditation skills but all three of us were flaccid as the whirring from Abels powerful gyroscopic motion turned from auditory noise to airborne vibrations.
As the sexually distracted tourists looked to the eclipse assuming earth powers, aliens or God was at work, we saw Abels spinning form tearing towards us from further right. His eyes, red coals of hatred, hot sparks of burning metal spitting from his centrifugal force. Passing overhead, Lipton threw out his weighted net and brought the vibratory demon worm to earth. Laughing his heat burned off this temporary hinderance. Leaping down as he still struggled I caught him across the jaw with the estwing claw hammer stifling his mocking laugh. Blood and teeth flew from his mouth. Though, before two seconds were up Abels smile returned. Eyes glowing in anger. Following through Lipton charged down swinging samurai blade in to Abels shoulder, though wounded he sprayed molten metal forcing us back as speckled wounds and sores formed on all open skin. In a hip flick move his gyratory motor kicked in and he was beneath soil before we could do more.
Jesus looked on, still wasted from his monster ethyl hit. Swigging from his goatskin wine sack. ' He'll be back. We must prepare.'
Hammering posts around the hollows rim we worked fast. Jesus got stuck in too, working at three times the speed of a normal man. From these we rigged ropes forming a stronger net, a spiders web to catch this Lord of flies.
'Cook us up another hit, lads,' Jesus asked. Now, he'd been free with the wine but a, we could do without him dieing again on us and b, we only had about three grammes left. Seeing our mutual reticence, Jesus said, 'not for me knobheads, I'm sworn to none violence but if you two can get him still I'm sure I can give him a dig to spin him in to orbit. '
So, the whole three g's we had remaining were cooked up filling two two mil barrel syringes. Jesus capped and pocketed the works. Lipton looked at me suspiciously and yes, I too had trepidation after his mammoth hit earlier. But if you can't trust Christ, then who the hell can you trust. So we shrugged. We might be dead soon anyway.
Three stoned looking hippies strolled over. At first irritated and needing no onlookers we said, 'you're better off for the eclipse over there?'. Looking more closely it became clear how white skinned they were. The dumbest offered us his joint. We took a toke or two then Jesus finished it off. Asking the lads to skin another. Gradually it dawned on us. The fractal lights from the acid had confused or blurred with their jesses shrouds of mandala fractal lights.
'Elmer?'
'Yessir, and my two buddies from down under, Esau and Elija, we're well stoned, ' he childishly giggled.
'What are you doing here?'
'Oh, lads, we've been plodding slowly behind you since the Pitt. We want to meet Jesus. Jesse said he can get me smart as Ely, with his magic. I'm done sick of being plumb stupid. Weed helps, mind, fancy a bifter?'
Before me or Lipton could stop this madness, Jesus was straight in, 'fucking right we do, gagging for a smoke,'
Jesus already looked wasted but seemed insatiable. 'What say you share your weed and I get you smarter than a motherfucker.'
Smiling at the deal, Elmer gleamed, 'yessir. Alright we sit on your trampoline to roll em?'
Seeing an explanation involved the murder of his brother we could hardly refuse. So, Elmer, his two underworld stoner buddies and the son of man sat nattering and smoking weed on our improvised demon trap.
'Look, it's you and me, Lipton. That's how it's always been. These lot come and go but we are long distance haulage brothers. Till death or glory.'
'Death or glory!' Lipton replied. Looking across the lip of the hollowed out Iron Age hill fort took us back to the gas silos in Bath. A smile passed between us in memory of our lives, our commitment to adventure and to never, ever lose faith in ones dreams, despite what those who promote greyness in all its forms may try trick you with. We had travelled together, through different dimensions, met archangels, underworld empires, even met the son of God, even if he was a bit of a waster hippy come down to it. If we were to die this day it would be a good death. Our policy had been to live each day as though it were our last. This had led us in to all sorts of problems from addiction and now, finally to our deaths. But we had lived. We had seen things common man would never see with his pension schemes, health regimes and insurance plans. Our lives had not been long. But who said life was about quantity? We had lived as free shamans and now may die as such. 'Jesus said its alright over there, bright white light, overwhelming love, it's no big deal, eh?' 'Nah, fuck it. I don't want someone wiping my arse or forgetting who I am anyway.'
'Lets do it!'
The whirring beneath the earth began as a hum, he'd gone deep. Slowly it built. Me and Lipton were armed. He'd reclaimed his long stem samurai sword and bolas whilst I'd stuck to claw hammer and long bladed knife. The stoners didn't become aware and pull themselves together from their stoned giggling till the ground began vibrating. The glow of gyratory friction and the stench of burning metal rose from Abels burrow hole as steam and smoke announced his imminent return.
Dropping down below the net we sought to inflict damage before Abel could see us. Swinging his bolas at speed, Lipton took a deep breathe, simultaneous to mine. In a torrent of hot metal sparks Abel shot to earth. I caught his temple a hard estwing blow as liptons blade ran through his shoulder. Slashing ing his face with my knife Abel through me backward with his good arm. Liptons bolas tied his legs, inhibiting gyration.
'Stone me! It's our Huckleberry, what's he all steamed up about.' Elmer proclaimed as he and his freak brothers lost purchase falling in a heap on to the gyroscopic orgasmatron. Suddenly, resurrecting himself from his cannabis haze, the lamb of god dived in. First needle pierced jugular, second he thrust in to the abominations groin. Abel flicked his hips as only a Presley can throwing JC to the side. Once again he'd only got his job half finished. Needing no prompt Lipton accurately jabbed his sword handle it the works in Abels neck whilst I swung my hammer to plunge the double ethyl whammy home.
Freezing for a second as the chemicals flooded his blood Abels eyes glowed brighter. His gyrations grew strong pushing us all to the hill fort sides as centrifugal force built. As the ethylphenidate took hold Abel went in to overdrive. The heat from his gyroscopic supernova pushed us back. Trying to rise in to the air Abel shot skyward only to find his path impeded by our rope trap. Hitting white hot his body began to break and crack. Metal chunks, hot and heavy flew off him as his death roar deafened all around. His final bursts of crippling magnesium flame fluttered as grey ash settled. No body remained. Abel was dead.
'What an extraordinary phenomena, such gyroscopic magnitude supplemented with phenidate overdose clearly leads to over gyration and super nova. Never liked young Abel to be honest, anyway.' Said the newly intelligent Elmer. 'We may as well use his burrow to get back to Jesse though. I'd like to give you my sincerest thanks, Mr Christ. I feel truly splendid. And to you two gentleman I'll provide a gleaming report to my father. Come on then boys, let's get on our way.'
And simple as that, Elmer left.
Scorched and bloodied we looked to Jesus who was skinning up another doobie for himself from the subterranian weed stash he'd earned. 'What, like?'
'Jesus, thanks for all your help. Any chance of some wine to take the edge of the ethyl acid combo', ' no probs lads,' and a vast selection of new and old world wines appeared. We drank deep and long.
From our rucksacks we produced our action men. Perhaps our last two. Liptons scuba diver looked ready for the drop. My Africa corp also prepared. We checked their dress was smart. Spoke to them, our prayers of absolution. As a sign of our bond we tied their hands together. Bound forever. Then together dropped them down Abels burrowed hole. Together they would face any adventure. Or hit Elmer, Esau and Elija if they hadn't made it down fast enough.
After dismantling our trap and loading up our rucksacks, selecting only the finest of Jesus stash, we looked around the hill. Husbands and boyfriends led their partners down the hill. Some carried them in their arms, such was the afterglow of Abels ungodly genital blessing.
Victorious we strode down Cley Hill. Jesus put an arm round each of our shoulders, not so much in brotherly love as support as he was well wrecked and couldn't walk unaided.
We gave the wreckhead son of God a lift back to glastonbury where he sloped off to site, still drinking from his goatskin.
'Some fella!'
'Aye, always shares his shit, mind. I still rate him, I just can't see him getting his religion up and running again.'
'We'll have to look into that, shamans alone may not be enough to save our species. For sure, it's a hell of a responsibility, having the only known, still fully functional religion. We may need their help sometime. I'm going to try help the crusty dosser get it going again.' I felt duty bound after JC had pitched in to help us out.
Bruised and scarred, mentally and physically, both me and Lipton looked fucked.
'Were going to have to sort ourselves out you know.'
'Yep,' Lipton agreed, ' if I want to reach fifty I'm going to have to rattle off all the drugs. I'm heading for the hills, me, my dogs, sleeping bag, tent, fishing rod, snares. I'm off out on me own. I can't put this on anyone.' Lipton had never used medical help for his addictions. In essence a real life ray mears minus the belly. I knew he would slink off like an animal, into the wild, repair himself, suffer in silence, such was his way.
'I've got to change soon. Reshamanise. Get away from psychiatrists and drug workers. They're paid to keep you coming in to validate their jobs. In twelve years all I've got is a prescription that tied me down. Tied me to them. I've read more psychology, psychiatry, neuroscience and addiction books than the whole Somerset drug service. Not only that but I've carried out years of field study, from within. I am an expert, they are novices.'

And we did. Lipton headed for the wilds finally pitching up on site in the Welsh borders. I cured myself, rattled my way off opiates, off benzos. Our adventures are not over. Free of our shackles we are stronger. Death or glory.
I hadn't seen him for two years when I joined him on site. The clocks had just turned to British summer time but I arrived in the worst rains they'd had all winter. Welcomed by all there the week picked up. Sunshine brought out spring. Walking through woodland we visited old castles, ancient pagan sites, Viking settlements. After a few weeks I drove off, arranging to join Lipton on a journey in to Wales. No plan as yet. Just our vans, and our clean selves.


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