Dinosaurs, Aliens And The Shop That Sells Everything

Dinosaurs, Aliens

And The Shop That Sells Everything

Duncan Saunders

Grimlock Press

www.GrimlockPress.com

All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author and publisher.

First published in Great Britain in 2014

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Published in Great Britain by Grimlock Press

Visit GrimlockPress.com for more information

Text Copyright © 2014 Duncan Saunders

Cover Art Copyright © 2014 Grimlock Press

All rights reserved.

ISBN-10: 1909587052

ISBN-13: 978-1-909587-05-2

This book is dedicated to my family, young and old.

It is also dedicated to the helpers, the believers and the encouragers.

You know who you are!

-Duncan

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book would never have been written without the support and encouragement of many people. First among them is my long-suffering wife, Anj; without her, there wouldn’t be a book to read. I must also thank the rest of my family, especially my parents, Simon and Sue Saunders and my in-laws Tony and Elaine Willis-Culpitt, for their huge emotional and practical support over many years.

Also my army of test readers and encouragers; Paul, Mary-Anne, Jason and Carmel, Sarah, Pam, Sara, Rob and Ali, Louise, Freya, Neil, Chris, Eric, Nathan, Matt, Kim, Suzanne, Bec and Ed, Stu, Robert, Amber, Mark, Dom, Michela, Super Joe and my oldest friend Jon.

The shop itself is based loosely to my first job; thanks to all of the people I worked with there, especially John and Norman Carter who employed me, and the gang from the fruit and veg department.

I would also like to thank Mike at Grimlock Press for all his work on this new edition of the book. After all the ups and downs, I hope this new dawn repays your faith.

Chapter 1

The Interview

The clock went up to fifteen.

It took a few seconds for Gordon to notice, but the clock on the opposite wall was unlike any other he had ever seen. It drew his attention like a magnet, as in addition to the extra numbers, it was a huge clock. The metallic face took up the whole of the far wall in the thin room, the rhythmic ticking distracting him from his thoughts. The clock had a single hand, currently pointing to the number seven.

Tick… tick… tick… The clock maintained its regular rhythm, the hand moving more slowly than the eye could see towards the number eight. Gordon found the clock made him uneasy, so he turned his attention to the rest of the room. The only door was on his right. Wooden benches with old cushions lined the rest of the walls, a single window providing enough light to make the room feel airy. A small shelf in the corner was home to a toaster with a sink next to it, where two ancient coffee mugs lay like shipwrecks in the bottom. There was no other decoration to catch his eye, so Gordon tried to focus his thoughts on the coming interview rather than the unusual timepiece or the room.

He remembered the sample questions he had been given by the careers adviser at school: ‘What are your strengths and weaknesses’, ‘What do you feel you can contribute to our team’, and so on. He ran through each in his mind, planning his answers. He was a good team player, he thought to himself, having captained the school football team for the previous two years. He was a quick learner. He had helped his father with his business before he changed career and sold the company, so he had business experience. Straightening his tie, Gordon allowed himself a moment of confidence. He was perfectly suited for the job, whatever it was.

What exactly was the job? Gordon remembered seeing the small, handwritten card in the shop window; it had said only ‘staff required, apply within.’ Gordon had applied there and then. He was led up a narrow staircase by the lady on the customer services desk, shown into this room and left to wait, nerves on edge, for the manager to see him. Since it was a shop, Gordon assumed that the work would be shop work, although he knew that the shop was unusual and sold all sorts of things. Even the shop name gave little away; ‘Dr Melchior’s Emporium of Magnificence’; a grand title to be sure but one which gave nothing away about the shop itself. Gordon remembered visits to the place as a child, when his parents had taken him shopping. He had always found the shop to be strange, partly due to its odd, haphazard design and partly because it sold things which no other shop nearby would even think of stocking; Gordon remembered the fantastic array of amazingly coloured sweets and his fascination with the strange wooden carvings in the garden area towards the back of the shop. The whole place felt chaotic. It was as if the shop had been built and then other sections stuck on over time at random; some parts modern, others much older. Various doorways and corridors led from the main body of the shop to side rooms full of interesting artefacts. As several of these rooms led to other, similar rooms via interconnecting doors, ramps, stairs and passages, the whole shop often felt like a maze. Gordon thought it would be very easy to get lost in such a place and had remained close to his mother when they were shopping, despite his curiosity.

The door opened. Gordon looked round. A grey haired man was holding the door open with one hand, his shirt and tie partly covered by a blue overall. He offered his other hand to Gordon, who stood up and shook it; the handshake was firm but not overpowering.

‘You must be Gordon?’

The man’s voice was quiet and had a West Country accent. Gordon nodded. The man smiled.

‘I’m Brian, the General Manager. This way, please.’

Taking a long breath in to calm himself, Gordon turned and followed Brian out of the door. A single chime sounded from the far end of the room, a deep note which Gordon felt throbbing through his chest. As he turned to leave, Gordon noticed that the hand of the clock had reached fifteen.

Brian’s office was small, almost like a cupboard. It felt cramped when Brian and Gordon squeezed in; there was barely room for a desk and two chairs. The ceiling formed from part of the shop roof, sloped downwards, making the office wedge shaped. Pieces of paper covered the desk in a chaotic mass. Some of the papers were normal, with rows of figures or typed writing on them. Others were covered in strange symbols or foreign languages, unlike anything Gordon had ever seen before. In the corner, under the slope, was another stack of papers, which filled the space to the ceiling. Next to them was a roll of parchment. Brian ignored all of this and sat behind the desk, motioning towards the other chair with his hand. Gordon sat down, adjusted his tie and waited for the interview to begin. As expected, Brian began with an introduction.

‘Well, Gordon, my name is Brian Drakeswing. I’m the General Manager here at Dr Melchior’s. All I’m going to do is ask you a few questions, just to see if you are suitable for the job here. Then you can ask me any questions you’ve got. Just standard interview stuff, hopefully not too scary.’

Gordon nodded. This was exactly as the careers adviser had said interviews would be. Placing his hands in his lap, trying to look confident yet calm, Gordon prepared for the first question.

‘Do you believe in ghosts?’

That was not a question which the careers adviser had prepared him for. Gordon wasn’t sure that he had heard correctly.

‘Pardon?’

Brian repeated the question.

‘Do you believe in ghosts?’

Gordon thought for a moment, his brain racing. He was aware that he had been silent for a few seconds and ought to say something, so he took a breath then tried to answer, thinking aloud;

‘I don’t know. I think I saw one when I was little, but it might’ve been a trick of the light or something. My dad told me that they don’t exist, but I think he said that so I would go to sleep and not worry about ghosts during the night.’

Brian looked him full in the face. Gordon, already foxed by the question, felt even more uncomfortable, as if his mind was being read. Brian asked a follow up question;

‘Tell me about the ghost you saw when you were younger.’

Gordon took a second to compose his thoughts.

‘It was at my Gran’s house. I thought I saw a man in a cap walking along the side of the house out of the corner of my eye, but when I asked my mum about it she hadn’t seen anyone and she was facing straight at him. It turned out that a man was killed by a bomb in the war when he was walking along the path where I saw him, but it might’ve been me imagining it.’

Brian pulled a pencil out of a pocket in his overall, and made a note on a piece of paper in front of him. Gordon tried to see what the note said, but the writing was too small. Brian fired off another question.

‘What’s your favourite dinosaur?’

Gordon blurted out his answer before he knew what he was saying.

‘Ankylosaurus.’

Brian smiled a little.

‘Why?’

Gordon thought for a moment. From his childhood dinosaur books, he had always considered Ankylosaurus to be his favourite dinosaur without ever thinking about why. He replied, hesitating as he spoke.

‘I think it’s because they’re a bit like a tank with legs. They’ve got great armour and a club for a tail. Nobody messes with them.’

Brian laughed.

‘Paddy would love that answer.’

He made another note on the piece of paper. Gordon wondered who Paddy was, and what he had to do with Ankylosaurus. Brian continued the discussion of dinosaurs with another question;

‘If you had to deal with an angry Ankylosaurus, how would you go about it?’

Gordon pondered the question, and the reason for asking it. Perhaps it was to see how he could deal with stressful situations and difficult people; the careers adviser had warned him that some questions had a hidden purpose. Thinking about how to answer, he remembered a frisky horse he had once had to deal with on his friend’s farm.

‘I think I’d approach it from the front to avoid the tail, walking slowly and keeping calm. I’d keep a clear escape route behind me and I’d talk to it all the time, keeping my voice soft and my words slow. I’d try to soothe it and make it less angry. I’d take as long as I needed, avoiding sudden movements.’

Gordon hoped this was a suitable answer but Brian’s face gave nothing away. Brian made a quick note and asked another question.

‘Can you drive?’

This was a more straightforward question, which was a relief for Gordon.

‘I passed my test two weeks ago. I’ve only been taking lessons for three months, so as you can see, I am a fast learner…’

Brian cut off Gordon’s answer with a wave of his hand and a mumbled sound. Gordon felt a bit put out; he had thought the question provided a superb opportunity to display his strengths, something the careers adviser had told him to do wherever possible.

‘What can you drive?’

Gordon thought this was a very odd question. Perhaps he would need to drive a works van? As far as Gordon could remember, his licence covered vans.

‘Cars. I think the licence will let me drive small vans and motorbikes too although I’ll have to check that.’

Brian’s brow furrowed. He mumbled to himself while writing, his voice even quieter than it had been before;

‘I suppose cars are similar enough, and if he is a fast learner then it should be ok.’

This sounded exciting; perhaps he would be trained to use a fork lift. Gordon’s cousin Tom had recently been taught to drive a fork lift as part of his job at the concrete factory. Although the rest of Tom’s job sounded dull, Gordon had heard him mention that it was worth staying for the fork lift training. Finishing his note, Brian looked up again.

‘What do you like to do in your spare time?’

This was another question which Gordon had expected, although he had been told that it was often thrown in as an afterthought towards the end of an interview, to see what team working or personal skills a person had. Gordon was ready for it and delivered his prepared answer.

‘I enjoy football and was captain of the school football team until I left school last year. I also enjoy reading, swimming and films.

Brian nodded.

‘Which book are you reading at the moment?’

Gordon thought to himself. He hadn’t actually read a book in the last few months; his exams had taken all of his time until midsummer and in the few weeks since they had ended he had been spending a lot of time outside. He decided to talk about the most recent book he had read instead; a nonsensical horror story about werewolves.

‘I’ve just finished ‘Moonlit fur’. It was ok, nothing special. It certainly wasn’t terrifying, like it claimed to be.’

Brian regarded him with interest.

‘Werewolves don’t scare you, then?’

Gordon found it strange that Brian knew about the book; it was marketed as a book for teenagers, which Brian certainly wasn’t. Gordon replied with care, knowing that a wrong answer could cost him the job.

‘It wasn’t that the werewolves didn’t scare me. It’s just that the way the book was written wasn’t in the least bit frightening.’

Brian nodded and made another swift note on his paper.

‘That’s good, wouldn’t like to think of you as mad. Now, just a few more things I’d like to ask you. What do you think the job is?’

‘Actually, I was going to ask you that.’

Brian laughed.

‘Ok, I’ll change the question a bit for you. What do you expect the job to be? What did you think it would be when you saw the advert?’

Gordon shrugged.

‘Shop work I guess. Filling the shelves, helping customers, working on the tills... that kind of thing. It might vary a bit depending on which department I’m in, but that’s what I’m expecting.’

Brian nodded once more, his fingers linked in front of him.

‘Would you enjoy that?’

Gordon realised that this was a tricky question to answer. He knew that what he had suggested sounded dull, and he couldn’t say that if he wanted the job. However he also knew that Brian wouldn’t believe him if he said that the idea of filling shelves all day excited him. Hesitating, Gordon began to answer.

‘Well, I’m sure I’d enjoy parts of it. Helping customers, for example, would be enjoyable or at least rewarding. I’m sure shelf filling has good points to it and is fulfilling in many ways.’

Brian looked straight at Gordon.

‘I’d hate to do that sort of job.’

Gordon was stunned again. The idea of the manager talking about the job like this was too strange. He tried to think of something to say, but no words came. Fortunately, Brian continued;

‘I expect you’d end up hating it too, and would move on as soon as you could. I’ve seen your list of interests and qualifications; you’d get bored quickly. What I’d like to offer you is a job that will be anything but boring. It will be hard work, and sometimes it may be difficult or dangerous. You will have to deal with customers, but some of those customers will be unlike anyone you’ve ever met. It will be many things, but it won’t be boring. Now, do you think you’d like a job like that?’

Gordon took a deep breath in. He had so many questions that he wanted to ask. He went for the simplest of them.

‘What will I be doing?’

Brian smiled. Standing up, he gestured towards the door of his office.

‘Come with me. I’ll show you.’

Brian led Gordon down the stairs and onto the shop floor via the snack aisle. Dodging around two chattering ladies at the end of the aisle, Brian showed Gordon all around the shop floor. They passed through open areas full of strange steam powered machines, crept into small rooms with low ceilings and walked down long corridors packed with all manner of interesting goods. Gordon enjoyed the smell of the bakery, was a little shocked by some of the implements on sale in the medical section and was amazed by the age of some of the bottles in the wine department; there were bottles which were over two hundred years old according to the labels. He was pleased to discover that the shop had a sports section, although it was a surprise that he had never noticed it as a child. Brian smiled at this.

‘It was probably because your mother never wanted you to find the sports section.’

Gordon agreed.

‘She would’ve kept me out of there, that’s for certain. I used to drive her mad when we went shopping for clothes, as all I wanted to do was look at football shirts or boots.’

Brian replied. His words were measured.

‘I’m not entirely sure you understand me, Gordon. Perhaps we should return to the staff area and I can explain a little more.’

Brian led him back to the room with the clock. Looking across at the clock, Gordon was amazed to find that it now had twenty numbers on the face, and the single hand was pointing to the top. Gordon stared at it; had someone changed it while they had been away? Seeing the amazement on his face, Brian laughed.

‘Were you expecting it to still be set to fifteen?’

Gordon nodded, mouth open. Brian explained in an offhand manner.

‘The clock adjusts to suit us. It recognises how long we’ve got and then counts the time down, as it did for you earlier.’

Brian pulled a small pad and pencil from his pocket.

‘See, I’ve made a note on this pad, limiting our meeting to twenty minutes. I’ve got a lot of work I need to get on with this afternoon.’

Gordon was still staring at the clock face.

‘How does the clock change? Can it read minds?’

Brian smiled.

‘It uses… technology.’

‘That’s impossible.’

Brian shook his head.

‘It’s just working in ways you can’t understand. Think about it; not that long ago, a mobile phone which would fit in the palm of your hand was impossible; you wouldn’t believe it. Now everyone has them. This is just technology at a level you aren’t used to.’

Gordon nodded slowly, trying to take it all in.

‘Where did it come from?’

‘It came from the same place as the rest of the shop; Dr Melchior made it. I can’t too say much more, not yet. First I need to make an agreement with you.’

Brian paused, as if making a decision in his mind. Finally, he continued.

‘The interview is over. I’m going to offer you the job of general assistant if you want it. I’ll try you out in the various departments over the next week or two; you can see which suits you best. You can learn more about the shop and what we have here from the various places I send you to.’

Brian stopped speaking. Looking Gordon right in the eyes, his tone turned more serious as he continued.

‘I told you the job wouldn’t be dull and I was telling the truth. We sell some exciting things and we have some interesting customers who come here to buy things nobody else will sell them. I must warn you though, with the excitement comes some danger. Parts of this shop are very old, many are unpredictable and there are some extremely dangerous things in here. I need you to make me two promises.’

Gordon nodded, held by Brian’s gaze. Brian spoke again.

‘The first is that you must always do what you are told when at work in this shop. If you do not, terrible things could happen to you. You could be maimed, killed or worse. Some people have been driven mad by the contents of the shop or been lost in the secret places where the most dangerous artefacts are kept. You must only go where you are told to go and must do what you are told to do. Can you agree to this?’

Gordon forced himself to speak.

‘Yes, sir.’

Brian’s gaze did not waver.

‘Good. The other promise you must make is this; you must not reveal the secrets of this shop. Some people have tried to expose us to the newspapers for a quick payoff and it always ends up the same way. The media find nothing and the person who leaks the story regrets it more than you can imagine.’

Gordon was not sure if this was a threat or a simple warning. Either way, he decided that he needed to know more. Plucking up courage, he asked Brian a question, hoping to discover what he meant.

‘Why do they regret it?’

Brian’s gaze fell towards the floor. In that moment he looked far older, like a man worn out by the troubles of the world.

‘They regret it because they lose all that they had when they worked here. This shop is more than just a place to work; it