TURN ME ON, DEAD MAN
Chapter Fourteen After Angela checked Paul and Amy and mended them, Mister Brown and Mister Jones escorted them to a storage cupboard that had been used as a cell. The room was empty except for several old and worn duvets on the floor with a couple of old pillows, a metal chamber pot in the corner and a pitcher and basin beside it. There were a tin plate and bowl with a couple of metal spoons on the bowl. One light hung down from a light fixture overhead and there was a small vent near the top of the ceiling. Paul and Amy were shoved inside the room and Jones quickly shut the door and locked it. "Heh, reminds me of my days in Hamburg," Paul quipped as he looked around. "No, actually the rat holes we stayed in were better than this. But at least we're alone for the moment." He put his hands in his trouser pockets. "And since we are alone and there's a good supply of air. Explain to me who you are and how you knew this was going to happen," Paul said. Amy led him over to the duvets. They sat down beside each other and for the next half hour, Amy explained about the Doctor, time travel and how she met him. Paul listened in silence until the end. "Wow," he said, shaking his head. "Couple of hours ago, I wouldn't have believed it but after seeing what those medicines could do...that comment about the medicines not being from Earth. You've seen medicine like that before then in your travels?" "No, but I've been with the Doctor long enough to suspect that something that unnatural might not be from Earth," she said. "Must be interesting travelin' through time. If we escape this place, I might join you. Fighting monsters and aliens sounds a lot less stressful than recording an album." "I'm glad you believe me." He chuckled. "Amy, I think I know you well enough to know that you've got a pretty level head on your shoulders and you've been truthful with me so far so I think I'll take a big leap of faith and believe you when you say that you've traveled through time. So if you're from 2010, what's the future like? They have flying cars and rocketpacks?" "Um...no, the cars still drive on roads and no rocketpacks." "Blast. The Sci-Fi novels lied then," he said while Amy giggled. "Oh! You said you had something from the future to show me. Postcard, wasn't it?" "Yeah," Amy said, standing up and reaching into her pocket. "This is the cover of the Beatle's next record album and you can see the double, he's dressed in the blue military costume." She handed Paul the postcard and sat back down while Paul studied it. He looked at his double and blinked in shock. "Amy, this bloke doesn't even look like me. The photo is tiny but I can tell he's got a thinner face than I do." He held the postcard away so Amy could see it and pointed to the waxworks. "I know what these are. They're the wax figures Madame Tussauds made of us," he said to her. "Look, you can tell just from looking at me and looking at him that we have different face shapes. I have a rounder face than he does. How did he manage to fool people?" "Um...I've heard people comment before that you looked older there," she said, pointing to the double. "Yeah, he does but then again he has a mustache and facial hair usually makes one look older," Paul said. "Well, I think people think that you naturally aged and got older in addition to growing the mustache." Paul's mouth dropped open. "Amy, when was this released? This album," he said to her. "Um, in the summer of '67, I think." "And it's September now? I know people age and change somewhat, but not in 8 or 9 ruddy months. You see this, love?" he said, pointing to the bottom of his face. "This isn't baby fat, this is the actual shape of my head and that doesn't change. Even if I lose weight I'm still gonna have a round face. This man has a thinner face than I do. For Christ sake, here's my wax dummy over here and you can compare. And look, look, love, notice how our waxworks are all basically the same height? When the people came to take measurements they were thorough, they took measurements of everything and photographs of us from every angle because Madame Tussauds prides itself on accuracy. They measured our heights because they wanted that to be accurate and it is accurate. I'm nearly the same height as the others but over here...suddenly, I'm three or four inches taller than Ringo is? I'm 24 years old. You don't have a sudden growth spurt when you're 24. How do people explain that?" "Maybe they think they stood you on a box." "Okay, why would I be on a box then, Miss Know-it-all?" Paul said as Amy giggled. "Because they wanted to make you the tallest since you're the cutest?" She giggled when Paul raised his eyebrow at that. He grinned and gave her a kiss on her cheek. "That's your reward for saying that," he said while Amy laughed. "But in all seriousness...this is completely daft. You're telling me that they can take a half-arsed double and absolutely convince the world that it's really me? And this photo...blimey, they crammed a bunch of shit into it, I've never seen a album cover with so much crap in it at one time," he said while Amy laughed harder. "And what is the purpose of the people behind the double and my mates? And who are all of them? I know some of them but not all of them. Why are they there?" "Um...that I don't know for sure," Amy said. Paul scratched his cheek while he stared at the people behind the Beatles. He shook his head. "Love, I don't even know these two," he said, pointing to the first two people in the top row. "The first guy looks like he's from India so maybe George would know who it is but this bloke...who the hell is he?" "I know who he is, that's Alistair Crowley," she said, pointing to the second man in the row. "And who is that?" Paul said with a frown. "Um...he was into black magic and I think he was a Satanist." "What? What the hell is he doing on a Beatles album cover? I've never even heard of him and frankly, I don't think my mates would know him either. Black magic and Satanism? Oh love, this is gettin' scarier by the minute. I'm beginning to wonder what these people have in mind for the band. And it must be them that put this Crowley chap in the photo because the others would never dabble in black magic or satanic things and neither would I. And what about all this stuff in the front? This weird collection of crap, what does it symbolize?" "Well, some of it is clues about your death." "Really?" Paul said with fascination, "Such as?" "Um...let's see. I don't think I know all the clues but I can point out some," Amy said, leaning her head on Paul's shoulder while she looked at the photo. "Um...well, all of this down here is supposed to be a grave where the flowers are. Because it's a funeral...your funeral." "If it's my funeral, why do the flowers say Beatles and not Paul?" "They do. This flower arrangement here. It's hard to see here but the guitar's made up of a P, A, U, L and a question mark for the back of it." "And it's in the shape of a left handed bass, so I get that. But a question mark...as in they aren't sure if I'm dead or alive?" Paul said. "Um...maybe, I'm not quite sure. There's also three sticks going across the bass and those represent the three Beatles that are left alive." "Okay..." Paul said, nodding. "Um...the Beatles are holding brass instruments but your double is holding a wooden instrument which makes him different to the others. And it's wooden like a coffin and it's black which is the color of death." "Uh-huh..." Paul said, rolling his eyes while Amy giggled. "And of course I could have spotted that straight away since I'm always equating wind instruments with coffins and death." "And...the TV. It's off to symbolize the coverup of the press coverage of your death." "Sure? You sure someone didn't get angry when they couldn't watch Coronation Street and they kicked the telly and broke it?" Paul said while Amy giggled. "Um...this Chinese looking guy with the line going down his head. That's s'posed to symbolize the head injury you had before you died." "What sort of head injury?" Paul said with a frown. "Um...your head got cut off?" Amy said. She giggled when Paul gave her a dubious look. "Love, there's a difference between hurting your head and losing your head, a biiig difference," he said as she laughed harder. "Um...let's see, the little red headed doll s'posed to be Jane, I think." "And what does she have to do with all this?" Paul asked. "Um...she's your girlfriend?" Amy said. She giggled when Paul rolled his eyes. "And having a girlfriend symbolizes death," Paul said, shaking his head. "Everyone knows that." "The doll over here, you can't see it very well but there's a little toy car on her leg and it looks like your Aston Martin and the interior is red to symbolize blood." "Yes, because the moment me head came off, I spurted blood all over the leather seats like a fire hose," he said while Amy laughed. "Why does the doll's jumper say welcome the Rolling Stones then?" "I think they were supposed to be involved with covering up your death." Paul grinned at her. "Sweetie, I am friends with them but at the same time, the Rolling Stones are basically our rivals. They're almost as popular as we are but they want to be the biggest group in the world. I'm sure they'd wouldn't give a rats arse if I died. In fact, I'm sure Mick Jagger would be dancing for joy and wigglin' his narrow, bony arse all over my grave if he knew I visited Saint Peter." He winked when Amy laughed at that. "But anyway, anything else you know about this cluttered photo and how it pertains to me and my death?" "Well, see how the double has a hand over his head? Supposedly that's an Eastern sign of death if a hand's over someone's head." "Really? If I get out of here, I'll have to ask George about that. He would know for sure," Paul said. "Because I've never heard of a hand over the head meaning death. But then again, I didn't know wind instruments and broken telly's mean death too. I'm learning so many new things today. Anything else that has to do with my death?" "Um...I think so but I can't remember the rest. You'd have to ask the Doctor, I'm sure he knows each and every one. Oh! Wait!" "What?" Paul said in a hushed whisper. "Does Diana Dors symbolize my death? Or Edgar Allan Poe up there. He wrote about death and dying. Did he predict my death in some obscure short story called Paul dies in the 1960's and I know all about it?" Amy laughed as Paul winked at her. "Seriously though, what other death clue is there?" "Um," Amy said, sobering up. "See this brass instrument in front of wax Ringo?" "Yes." "Um...that's supposed to be the instrument you would have been holding if you'd lived." "Really? Because I'd rather hold the coffin instrument and be different," Paul said while she giggled. "Be an individual, that's my motto! That's why I chose to be different and die a horrible, fiery death. I figure I can sing my songs from beyond the grave and upstage Johnny! He can't criticize my soppy songs if I'm an angel in Heaven! Take that, Lennon! I'm immortal now and you can't stop me from writing my silly love songs!" He smiled when Amy laughed at that. "I'm sorry, love. I know I should be taking this more seriously but this is just blowing my mind. I mean, I can't believe that people think that ugly mother fucker is me!" "He's not ugly," Amy said. "The hell he isn't! He looks like a monkey took an enormous shit and sculpted his face from it," he said while Amy laughed hysterically. "I do not have a monkey shit face. I have a cute, sweet face that make women swoon and I don't look Jewish. He looks Jewish to me, what do you think?" "Um...a little, maybe?" Amy said, shrugging. "So let me get this straight then. One day I died in a horrible, fiery, extremely confusing way and they found Jewish Monkey Shit Face Man to come along and be me. They put an ugly arsed mustache on his creepy, pockmarked face, put him on stilts so he could be taller and feel more superior to the others and then they said go and mingle with the band. And the band said to Jewish Monkey Shit Face Man when they saw him, "Hi! Welcome to the group. Feel free to take Paulie's place, we hated that sad bastard anyway!" and Jewish Monkey Shit Face Man did just that and all was well in Beatleland. I'm sorry, love, I know I should feel sorry for the bastard if he got mixed up with this lot but...I can't help but be insulted that they think his ugly face would pass for mine. I am certified cute, ask my screaming female fans! Then again, apparently the female fans are too busy screaming to notice I'm not me anymore. I guess all that open mouthed, closed eyes screaming prevents you from paying attention to details." He sighed and leaned his head against Amy's. "I wonder if I'll get to meet this bloke then while we're here?" he said to Amy. His eyes widened and he put his arm around Amy while he said in a hushed voice. "Does that mean I get to be my own best friend then?" He grinned and waggled his eyebrows when Amy laughed at that. "And I know when I meet this chappie, I'll just be beside myself with joy!" he added as she laughed harder. "Or I'll just be beside myself, full stop. I can't wait, love! I've always wanted to have a split personality and now I've got one!" Amy giggled and Paul held her close to him. "At least I was able to put a smile on your face," he said. "I do realize that I'm in a dangerous situation. But at the same time, it's all so surreal and bizarre that I can't help but make fun of it. I never realized that being in show business put you at risk for being killed and replaced with ugly doubles that don't even look like you. I mean, I can see a vague resemblance but still...perhaps they had him grow the mustache to distract people? I've never had a mustache or any sort of facial hair in my life and now not only do I have one but the others do as well. Did they order my mates to grow their own so he wouldn't stick out?" "Maybe you can ask whoever's in charge when we see em," Amy said. "I will. I want some answers. If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die knowing the full story. And if that makes them mad, fuck em! I have nothing left to lose anyway." He gave the postcard back to Amy. "In the meantime, I guess I'll have a rest and try to sleep a little so I'll have the strength to face whatever's coming." "Sounds like a good idea to me," Amy said. Paul smiled. He kissed Amy's temple and put his arm around her while she snuggled close to him. Both of them closed their eyes and within a few minutes drifted off to sleep.
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