The Bright Side.

Peter Smith has just found out he has a month left to live due to a lethal brain tumour.
He has also just found out that in less than a month, the human race will become extinct and that he has been chosen to be one of six humans to survive the approaching apocalypse. And who has saved him? E.I.P.F, the Earth Inhabitant Protection Front, a group of intergalactic environmentalists who want to save just one species.
And so, whilst also keeping his deadly secret from the aliens, Peter embarks on a quest to rally the chosen survivors, whilst avoiding Government Agents, the secret services, Satanists, Velociraptors, and a manic depressive Tyrannosaurus .

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8. Chapter 8

 Martha Kelly had been born to strict Catholic parents, Agnes Kelly né O'Connell and Reverend Robert Kelly. Together they had regimented the religion and instilled into their only child a sure fire fear of the almighty god. It must have come as quite a shock to Mr and Mrs Kelly when their daughter turned out to be an atheist. Reverend Kelly nearly had a heart attack when his daughter revealed that she had become a feminist. Mrs Kelly entered a state of shock when Martha entered socialist circles. In fact, Martha Kelly in her short life had become every variant of Ist that is possible, the only thing stopping her from adding terror onto that, is the fact she sees little point in sacrificing her life for a cause, when all she has to do is just stare at someone for several minutes and they soon wet themselves in terror. She was also, quite helpfully, amazingly beautiful. Peter felt his pulse quicken as the woman, with wonderfully shaped legs, strode over to the desk once owned by Mr O'Donnell and perched on the edge. As she folded her legs he had to undo his top button. “Well?” she asked, “What do you want to know?”

“How old are you?” Kurt asked curtly.

“Twenty eight.” Kelly answered, her thick Irish accent rubbing seductively against Peter's libido.

“Do you have any life threatening illnesses?” Lars asked.

Peter's heart jumped into his mouth, a question he had most pointedly, not been asked. And if he had, it would be goodbye salvation and hello apocalypse, even if he only had about a week extra to live. “No.” Kelly said, she narrowed her eyes. “Why do want to know?” she asked suspiciously. Before Peter could jump in with an answer, Kurt spoke, “In a short number of weeks the world is going to end, resulting in the extinction of the entire human race.”

There are a number of reactions Martha could have had to this statement. She could have laughed at the three men, shown them out and then carried on with her protest rally. She could also have asked them why they'd been let out of the nut house so early. Another slim possibility was that she had a sudden attack of religion and brandished them as Heathen heretics who would burn in hell for such declarations. What Peter was not expecting was for her to raise one perfect eyebrow, reach into her bosom pocket and remove a pocket of cigarettes. She placed one in her mouth, lit it, and took a long drag, relishing the smoke. Peter crossed his legs awkwardly. “Go on.” she said.

“We wish for you, and five others, to accompany us in surviving the end of the world.” Lars explained.

“What are you? The government?”

“Oh no.” Kurt said smiling, “Nothing that silly!”

“We're aliens.” Lars stated.

Martha took another long drag on her cigarette, her steely eyes drilling into Kurt and Lars. “Prove it.” she said finally. The two aliens glanced at one another, shrugged. Then proved it. Peter clamped his eyes shut just in time, but he could still hear the noise, like a water filled balloon being dropped onto the pavement and exploding. A shiver ran down his spine. Kelly on the other hand, raised her second eyebrow, ash dropped from the end of her cigarette unobserved. “Well,” she said slowly, “when do we leave?”

 

By the time the helicopter had expertly landed in the car park, the various protesters had all ambled off home, or to the local bingo hall, or to the pub, arm in arm with their husbands who had reproachingly bailed them from the police station. By the time sole occupant of the helicopter had approached O'Donnell's Match Factory, the police had given up in their search for Martha Kelly, and had all gone home. Sir Hubert Chesterfield burst into Mr O'Donnell's office and stared at the thin, relieved man. “Good day kind sir,” Chesterfield purred, “I was wondering if you could be of some assistance?”

O'Donnell groaned, he had just about managed to quell a vicious uprising by a bunch of idiotic, degenerate women, and now, he had to deal with one of the things he hated most: an Englishman. “Assistance in what?” he asked bitterly.

“I was wondering if you had seen this young gentleman.”

A photograph was placed in the Irish man's line of vision, a photograph of a man he vaguely recognised. “Aye.” he said, “I've seen him.”

“Really?” Chesterfield said smiling viciously, “And where may I ask is he?”

“No idea.” O'Donnell said unhelpfully, “Last I saw of him, he and two other men were going in to talk to that devil of a woman.”

“Two other men?”

“Aye, they all went to see that harlot of a woman, Martha Kelly.”

“What did they look like?” Chesterfield demanded.

“Look like?” O'Donnell asked, blinking in surprise, “Well, you know, normal like. Well, they all look normal at first. Like that satanic wench Martha Kelly, oh aye. She looked harmless enough, so I hired her all in good faith. Now look what happens -”

“Was there anything out of place about these gentlemen?”

Walter scratched his chin reflectively, “They were English. That's odd enough for me.”

Chesterfield sighed, “Well. Do you know where these gentlemen are now?”

“No.” O'Donnell, “All four of 'em vanished without a trace.”

“All four of them?”

“Yeah, she disappeared at the same time as they did.” O'Donnell explained as an afterthought, “Personally I hope they drove her to the middle of a forest and murdered her in cold blood and buried her where no one would find her.”

Chesterfield stared at the small man who shrugged innocently, “But I'm sure she's all right.” he stated bitterly, “She always is.”

The Englishman suddenly swore in such a way, even O'Donnell's eyes watered. “well, thank you for your help.” Chesterfield said icily, he then strode from the office.

Mr O'Donnell watched the Englishman from his window, enter the helicopter, rise into the air, then vanish from view. “Mad Englishman.” O'Donnell muttered, “Anybody would think the world was ending!”

 

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