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Love Me or Die, by Ranjna Theaker

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Ranjna Theaker's Love Me, or Die! (1992) is a thrilling tale of yoghurt and vengeful aliens. This was intended to be the first part of an ongoing serial.

Sam was feeling down. She was not sure why. Things were fine. Life was not bad, and the truth was that it had turned out pretty much the way she had wanted it to. But, something or someone was bringing her down. If only she knew what it was then she could begin to find the solution. She got up off her bright red sofa-bed, even though she was very comfortable and quite content there. Staring out of the living-room window, Sam realised it had been raining heavily outside, and although it was quite humid out there (according to the weatherman), her gas heater was on as high as the third notch inside. Even if it wasn’t that cold inside Sam always felt safer and generally happier with the heater on, often falling into a dreamy state watching the bright orange-red flames from the heater. Outside life seemed tranquil, the trees swayed in rhythm, the rain fell with ease, and the only sounds Sam could hear was the rain, her latest favourite album beating away casually on her mini-hi-fi, and a ginger cat purring away, probably sheltering under some tree from the rain.

Today was a Monday. Sam thought to herself I’m glad I’m not working any more. Instead she could have the choice of doing nothing which she quite relished as she was a rather lazy person. Lazy in the way that she enjoyed lying on her sofa-bed listening to music and dreaming about being someone else rather than actually trying to do something to be that person she thought she ought to be and would enjoy being. Sam could hear her stomach rumbling and decided that it was never too early to make your yourself something to eat. She was not overweight, but she was not thin either. “Right then, I think I’ll have some sausage sandwiches”, said Sam to herself. She entered the kitchen only to discover that there were no Linda McCartney sausages left. “Oh shit, I don’t fancy anything else, I guess I have no choice and it’ll have to be...”, she paused, “... yeah, some yogurt’ll do me fine.” Sam opened her yogurt, it was one of those that contained some fruit mixture in the corner of the container. She opened the yogurt only to discover that for some reason her yogurt corner contained nothing, it was just empty. “Just great,” sighed Sam, “It could only happen to me.” As Sam stared at her unappetizing fridge the doorbell rang.

Sam looked through the spy-hole. She saw a young man. Probably in his early-twenties, I think, and rather handsome actually, Sam whispered to herself. Using her hand she went over her dark brown hair pushing some of it behind her ears. Sam had shoulder-length hair which had a tendency to always look a bit greasy. However, on her good days Sam would describe it as silky and shiny instead. She opened the door.

“Hi,” said the man. He was wearing a pair of dark brown jeans, white and blue trainers, and a dark blue T-shirt with the words “Love me, or die!”, splashed in red at the centre of his T-shirt. He was only a little taller than Sam, so he was only about five foot four in height. His hair was a very dark brown, shoulder-length, and parted in the middle. Sam noticed his eyes were an enticing shade of green. I think I could fall in love with this man, she thought to herself.

“Hi,” said Sam.

“Well?” said the stranger.

Sam shrugged. “Sorry,” she replied.

“It’s me, Bill.”

Sam stared at the man, she thought hard, very hard, but she did not recognise him. Maybe I know him all the way back from university or something, she thought to herself.

The man who called himself Bill said, “What’s wrong with you Sam, it’s me, come on!”

Sam shrugged and shook her head.

“Look, come on, this isn’t funny, you’re starting to piss me off Sam. I’ve had a long journey, I just want to sit down on my bright red sofa-bed and perhaps you could make me some sausage sandwiches or something, you’re good at those.” He pushed Sam aside and headed towards her living room.

Sam ran after him, shouting, “Wait, what do you think you’re doing, I don’t know who the hell you are!” As she stepped into the living room the character called Bill was slouched on Sam’s sofa-bed, and eating her yogurt.

He yelled, “What’s going on here?!”

“My thoughts exactly,” replied Sam.

Bill said, “There’s no fruit in the corner,” and pointed at the yogurt.

Sam placed her head in her hands, and sighed deeply. She repeatedly muttered to herself, “must stay calm, call the police, must stay calm, call the police”.

Bill had finished the yogurt, he turned to Sam and reached to touch her. Sam jumped back, she was terrified now. She didn’t know how to get this stranger out of her home. Bill stared hard at her and then bowed his head. “Okay, it’s okay, take it easy, I know I’ve been away a while...”

“A while?” Sam interrupted.

“Okay, more than a while, but you’re the one that wanted a break, and I just complied like a good little husband, and now, well now you behave like you’ve never met me in your life. Some gratitude, Sam.”

Bill continued talking, Sam had stopped listening, “Hell,” she thought, “what should I do. There’s some maniac claiming to be my husband, claiming that we were on a break or something, This must be one of those candid camera things or I’m suffering from some form of amnesia or this man’s escaped from a mental institution. I know one thing for sure, I’m in deep shit.”

Bill had stopped speaking. There was an uneasy silence. It had stopped raining outside, the trees were calm, there were no sounds outside. Sam was hoping that it would start raining again, she liked the rain. It kept people in their homes, it made her feel calm and mellow, it induced a state of melancholy in her. She looked down at the floor, noticed her carpet needed hoovering, and then stared at Bill’s trainers. They were a little worn out, but quite trendy, not that it bothered Sam whether they were in fashion or not. The most important thing was that they kept your feet dry. Sam was quite practical and sensible when it came to fashion. She caught Bill looking at her inquisitively, he smiled. Sam smiled back, without actually meaning to. She then stared at her carpet again, time seemed to be standing still until she could decide what move to make. Then suddenly, Sam looked up.

Bill looked back enquiringly. “What’s the matter, Sam?” he asked.

Sam bit her lip, she replied cautiously , “It was raining when you knocked at my door.” Bill nodded his head. “Then why are your trainers dry, and how come your hair’s not wet?”

Intuitively Sam reached for the door handle, but Bill leapt up in front of her. He twisted her left arm behind her back. Sam screamed, “Let me go, you’re hurting... let me go you bastard!” Bill grabbed her hair and struck her head hard against the living room wall.

“Why are you screaming Sam, no-one can hear you, you won’t escape from me this time. The Keidor have sent me to take you back. And I will not, cannot disappoint them. You don’t want me to fail do you, do you!” The man called Bill struck Sam’s head against the wall again.

Nothing was real any more. The warm blood running down Sam’s face from her head was not real. The pain in her head, the numbness she felt, the disorientation, none of it could be real. Sam began crying uncontrollably, “Stop...stop please, I don’t understand,” she said desperately. Bill’s hand let go of Sam’s head, he reached behind his back. Sam felt something very cold and hard smack against her face which was sweating profusely. Blood gushed from her everywhere. Sam could not see as blood was pouring into her eyes, it was hot and sticky and unrelenting. All of a sudden there was a loud explosion, Sam shrieked in terror and then fell to the floor.

Sam could hear Bill’s voice.

“I don’t understand. You said if I delivered the traitor to you I would receive clemency from the Keidor. I have not betrayed your trust.”

She was aching all over. Her face felt sticky and sore, and her head felt like it had been struck extremely hard by a double-decker bus. Sam attempted to stand up and felt slightly dizzy but managed to maintain her balance. Only one of Sam’s eyes could be opened the other was stuck shut by blood, well that’s what Sam assumed was the problem. However, she did not wish to investigate the matter and felt her priority at the moment was to figure out where she was and how she could get back home. As Sam looked around she very quickly came to the conclusion that she was no longer in Birmingham, England.

Directly infront of Sam was Bill, still dressed in his jeans and trainers. Directly infront of Bill was a man sitting on some sort of stage with security guards on either side of him. The security guards were wearing very large guns over their shoulders and had gleaming silver daggers tucked into their black belts. Sam thought they looked alot like the kind of body guards you would expect some drug baron from South America or something to have. They resembled escaped convicts with one of them possessing decayed and gold teeth through a smug and sly smile. The other however on closer examination looked too smooth and neat, rather like a corrupt bank manager or a kind of accountant with his head combed neatly to one side and eyes that seemed too trustworthy to be true. Yet, the most important element in the picture was the man who sat between the two guards. The man who Bill seemed to be desperately pleading with.