The Takeover

Sandy didn't love the work, but life at the bank had become very comfortable. She had worked at the Bayside branch of the People's Bank for eight years. She knew the customers, she knew the products and procedures, she knew what to do and when -- her days were always the same.

Her best friend at the branch was the middle-aged Neil. He was divorced from his wife, and lived with his two adult daughters, Louise and Amy. Neil had also worked at Bayside branch for almost as long as Sandy, and like Sandy, he didn't like the work, and often wished he had another job.

Sandy and Neil usually ate lunch together, and spent the time complaining about this or that new rule, or giggling at Jerry's new toupee, or Anita's false nails. Sometimes, they would walk to the beach, which was just across the road, find a bench to sit on, and share their thoughts about the perfect job, the perfect life.

It was all very pleasant at Bayside branch until the day the Big Takeover was announced -- then everything changed.

Several of the key staff were made redundant. In fact, most of the Head Office staff were dismissed. And everyone was replaced by representatives of the new regime.

"Have you noticed how these new guys all dress the same?" said Sandy, at lunch one day.

"Yeah, it's like they all shop from the same catalog," agreed Neil.

"It's a bit creepy," said Sandy.

"Have you tried talking to them?" asked Neil.

"Yeah, they're a bit like robots," said Sandy.

"I reckon they are robots," said Neil, and they laughed.

Over the following weeks, Sandy and Neil tried to adjust to the new regime -- there were new tasks, new targets and new procedures to follow, and fewer staff to help.

Sandy and Neil's lunchtime conversations grew increasingly bitter.

"I can't stand this place," grumbled Neil, over a chicken salad sandwich. "I really need to get out."

"Yeah, these new guys are real pricks!" said Sandy.

They were quiet for a few minutes, Neil chewing on his sandwich, while Sandy stared at the sea. Then Sandy said a very odd thing.

"Have you noticed that these new guys smell weird?"

"What? Weird how?"

"They smell fishy," said Sandy. "All of them -- Gary and Andrew and the new Assistant Manager, Clare."

"That is weird," said Neil, with a giggle. "Maybe they all use the same deodorant?"

"I'm not joking," said Sandy, her face reddening. "There's something strange about them!"

"Okay, well let's investigate," said Neil. "It shouldn't be too hard to check a few basic things."

Over the following days, Sandy and Neil stealthily went through branch records, looking for discrepancies, odd details. They arranged to meet after work at their bench by the beach.

"I didn't find anything odd," said Neil. "It was really disappointing."

"Okay, well it looks like I hit the jackpot!" said Sandy excitedly. "I went through their personal records, and get this -- none of them have a previous address, and they all have the same current address! It's 75 Crocker Road, Rockland."

"What!"

"And that's not even the best bit!" teased Sandy.

"What!" said Neil.

"They all have the same date of birth!"

"That's impossible!" said Neil. "Andrew is at least ten years older than Gary. And both of them are older than Clare."

"Well, according to branch records, they are all thirty-three," said Sandy.

"It's a pity we don't have access to Head Office records," said Neil. "There are about five or six of these freaks in there. It would be good to check their details too."

"Hey, my mate Amy works there," said Sandy. "I'll get her to check them out."

Twenty-four hours later, and Sandy had the information from her friend. The personal details of the Head Office staff matched that of the branch staff. They were all thirty-three, and they all lived at 75 Crocker Road, Rockland.

"And one other thing," said Amy. "They all smell of fish -- it's revolting!"

While Sandy was keen to investigate further, Neil wanted to forget everything.

"I'm sure there's a sensible explanation for all this," said Neil.

"Like what?" said Sandy. "The whole situation's weird! In fact, I'm gonna check out that Crocker Road address tonight. You can come with me if you want, otherwise I'll go on my own."

"You can't, Sandy," Neil pleaded. "It's too dangerous! They might eat you!"

"Don't be ridiculous. They're not going to eat anyone."

That evening, Sandy and Neil drove to Rockland, parked around the corner from 75 Crocker Road, and taking great care to watch out for any other bank employees, walked back to Crocker Road. There were several cars parked in the driveway, and on the street outside the house. But there were no lights on, no signs of activity.

"C'mon, let's have a look inside," said Sandy. "It doesn't look like anyone is home."

"No!" urged Neil. "We'll get caught!"

But Sandy was already jogging across the road. Neil followed her reluctantly.

They crept around the house, looking in each window, but saw nothing -- absolutely nothing -- no furniture, no beds, no sofa or TV. The house was vacant.

They didn't speak again until they got back to Sandy's car.

"Did you get a whiff of that horrible stench?" said Sandy. "It smelled like something rotting in the sea!"

"What is going on?" said Neil.

But Sandy hardly said a thing all the way back to Bayside. She was turning things over in her mind, trying to think of a way she could uncover the truth about the new staff. Neil looked out the window and worried.

A few days later, and Sandy arrived at work in a distressed state.

"Amy's gone missing!" she said to Neil at the water cooler.

"What?" whispered Neil. "How do you know?"

"We went out for dinner last night. She drove home on her own at about 11:00 p.m. I've tried ringing her this morning, but there's no answer. And she's not at work today!"

"I think it's a bit premature to assume she's gone missing," said Neil. "She might just be sick."

"Well, she seemed okay last night. If I don't hear from her by the end of the day, I'm going to her apartment."

The day passed uneventfully. Sandy continued to ring Amy's number, without luck, while Neil rang Head Office and queried them about Amy's whereabouts.

"They were really vague," Neil said. "The guy I talked to, Eric, said she was sick. Someone else said she was on holiday. Something weird is definitely going on."

That evening, they drove to Amy's apartment. She lived in a modern complex of two-story units overlooking an artificial lake. Sandy found her apartment and, in a nearby parking space, they found Amy's car, a late model European coupe.

"Nice car," said Neil, as he tried the doors. "Still locked, but there's this foul goo around the door handle and window."

Sandy removed a sample of the goo with her finger. "Ugh! Smells like rotten seaweed!"

Amy's apartment was on the ground floor. Sandy went from window to window, looking for signs of foul play, while Neil checked the doors.

"Hey, the lock on the back door is broken," called Neil. "It's wide open."

Together, they entered the apartment, moving hesitantly, as though expecting to find Amy's body around every corner. But mostly it was neat and tidy. Only the bedroom looked as though it might have been the scene of a struggle. Bed sheets were strewn across the room, as were lots of Amy's clothes and other belongings.

But on the floor around the bed was the most disturbing discovery - puddles of the foul-smelling goo.

Sandy rang the police immediately. Within 20 minutes, two tired-looking policemen arrived at Amy's apartment. They were interested in the broken lock and the messy bedroom. They were less interested in the smelly goo. And they were not interested at all in Sandy and Neil's garbled expose of the People's Bank. The police soon had their own theories.

"It's probably drug-related," said the policeman with the biggest belly.

"But Amy didn't take drugs," said Sandy angrily.

"If not drugs, I'm guessing people-smuggling," said the policeman with biscuit crumbs in his moustache.

"What?" said Neil.

"Anyhow, we'll get back to you when we hear something about Andy."

"Her name is Amy!"

"Er...yes...Amy."

Sandy and Neil soon realised that they were going to have to take things into their own hands.

The following week, Neil came to Sandy with some exciting news. He held the crumpled copy of a memo in his hand.

"Look at this," he said. "Head Office are running an all-day conference. See who's been invited from here -- Gary, Andrew and Clare -- all the weirdos."

"Are you going to suggest we blow them up?" replied Sandy.

"Not yet," said Neil. "I thought we could plant a listening device or a spy camera in the Conference Room."

"That doesn't sound too dangerous. We can set everything up well before the conference starts," said Sandy.

Early on the day of the conference, they met outside the building in which the Head Office of the People's Bank was located. The Head Office took up two floors of the building, one of the tallest in the city.

They had decided to disguise themselves as Maintenance Staff. They wore dark overalls and carried toolboxes. Neil also wore a curly brown wig and fake glasses.

"You're an idiot," Sandy laughed.

They took the elevator to the People's Bank level, and found themselves in the Reception Area. With all lights and computers turned off, it was quite dark. They soon realised that neither of them knew the location of the Conference Room.

"It's down this corridor and to the right," said Neil.

"No, it's just behind here," said Sandy, pointing to the left.

Before they could move, they heard the sound of a printer at work, doors opening and closing, then someone cough. Neil and Sandy looked at each in horror. A door opened, and a smartly dressed young man appeared carrying a folder full of papers. When he saw them he gasped in surprise.

"Sorry, I didn't expect to see anyone," he said.

"Er...we're here to do some work in the Conference Room," stuttered Neil.

"Really important work," added Sandy.

"In the Conference Room," repeated Neil, pointing to his toolbox as if to emphasise the importance of their work.

"Well, the Conference Room is down this corridor, about halfway on your left," said the young man. As the odd couple disappeared, the man made a note to contact his Manager. There was something definitely strange about those two.

Meanwhile, Sandy and Neil had found the Conference Room. While Neil looked for a place in which to hide the tiny camera, Sandy checked all the drawers and cupboards.

"What are you doing?" asked Neil, as he clambered onto a cupboard and attempted to fit the camera to the top shelf.

"I'm looking for anything that might give us a clue about Amy," said Sandy, as she madly sorted through a drawer. "Like this!" she added triumphantly.

"What is it?"

"Amy's phone," said Sandy. "And it's covered in smelly goo."

Having finished fitting the camera, Neil had just jumped down from the cupboard when the door swung open and two men entered the Conference Room. One was the young man they'd already met -- he pointed a small handgun at them -- the other was an older, taller man with short grey hair.

"It's the handypersons!" said the tall man coolly. "How is the espionage coming along?"

"What are you doing with Amy's phone?" snarled Sandy, holding up the phone for all to see.

"An oversight, I'm afraid," replied the tall man. "Give it to me and I'll make sure it's disposed of properly."

"I'm going to give it to the police," said Sandy. "And I'll tell them that you're holding Amy prisoner!"

"We're not holding anyone prisoner. We battered and fried poor Amy and served her with chips and salad. She went very well with a cold white wine."

Sandy was shocked into silence. But Neil was seething and could keep quiet no longer.

"So what are you? Cannibal Fish Monsters from Pluto? Or Zombie Bankers from Wall Street?" he said.

"Shall we show them, Eric?" said the tall man. "They're going to die anyway."

The two men stood silent and motionless. Within seconds, their skin started to turn green, then it became scaly, then slimy. Their hands became claws, with webbing between each finger. Their hair disappeared and was replaced by a fin of sharp spikes connected by webbing. Similar fins appeared on their cheekbones, while their eyes were protected by a ring of bony material. The eyes themselves were cloudy and without pupils, their mouths filled with rows of tiny, but sharp, teeth.

"Handsome, aren't we?" gurgled the tall creature.

"You're vile and I hope you die!" growled Sandy.

"Let's put these two somewhere they can cool down," said the creature. "We'll make some decisions about them when the others get here."

Sandy and Neil were locked in a small storage room. While Sandy curled on the floor, sobbing over the death of her friend, Neil sorted through the contents of the room.

"What are you doing?" asked Sandy.

"I'm looking for weapons," explained Neil. "If we can take a few of these bastards out, we might be able to get to the elevator."

They found a metal pole, which may have once held a sign. They found an ancient broom. And they found a number of metal plates, which might make handy projectiles.

"They've got a gun, y'know," said Sandy.

"Well, I'll just have to make sure I take that one out first," said Neil.

It seemed like hours before they heard the sound of voices. The door was unlocked and swung open carelessly. Sandy and Neil were greeted by seven of the green, slimy creatures. Judging by the surprised looks on their scaly faces, the creatures were not expecting an attack.

Neil leapt out with a roar and smashed one of the creatures across the face. There was a sickening crack and the creature hit the floor. Neil swung again and again, using the metal pole as though it were an ax. He broke another creature's arm, and brought down another with a smack to the temple. A fountain of green goo spurted from the creature's head.

Meanwhile, Sandy was hurling the metal discs at the creatures. She hit one between the eyes and another in the chest. She noticed that Neil was attracting most of the attention, so grabbed the broom and ran around the melee and towards the elevator. She had to smash two or three clawed hands out of the way, and hit another one creature across the nose, but was soon past them and heading for the ground floor.

Neil tried the beat a pathway to the elevator, but found that as soon as one creature was out of the way, another one took its place. There were four or five creatures on the floor, wounded or unconscious. Neil looked behind him and saw that Sandy was gone. He hoped she'd made it out of the building. Then he heard a gun fire, once, twice, three times. He wondered who had been shot, then realised it was him. There was blood on his chest, on his belly. He stopped swinging the iron pole and the creatures were upon him, grabbing at his arms, his hair.

Sandy tried to get someone interested in her story -- police, government, newspapers, radio, the Internet, but no one took her seriously.

She lost her job at the People's Bank, and found she couldn't get another. She ran out of money, and had to move in with her parents. She became depressed and lost interest in everything except the aliens. Her life had hit rock bottom.

Then, out of the blue, she had a message to call the producers of The Marie Saunders Show. Saunders had produced a highly regarded current affairs show for over 15 years. But even this proved a disappointment. Sandy discovered that she was being interviewed by the show's 'comic' Max Nono. He made no attempt to take her seriously and openly laughed at her. Sandy felt like crying.

After they'd finished taping the interview, Max Nono made jokes with the production staff. As he gathered his notes and prepared to leave the studio, Sandy noticed that one of his hands was green and scaly, a slimy webbing between each claw.

THE END

Bio: Graham Catt has been writing from an early age. Since taking up poetry in his 30s, Mr. Catt has published several hundred pieces, as well as five poetry collections, including Shooting Stars (Ginninderra Press 2001) and The Hieronymus Bosch Shopping Mall (Picaro Press 2007). Mr. Catt has also written short stories and a novel for children. He lives in Adelaide, South Australia.

E-mail: Graham Catt

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