Ringo made his way alone through the darkened streets. Disobeying his own Guter Rat to the people of England, he wandered, up one straße and down another. He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for, but he wanted to find someplace that felt special, like that clifftop in Dover, like the places John and George had described. In the nighttime, all he could think about was finding a special object to call his own.
Ringo wasn't sure where he was exactly. He could tell that he had made it to a city, but had no way of knowing which city. Every now and then he passed someone on the street. Ringo didn't stop them to ask questions. This was only partly because he didn't want to look silly not knowing what city he was in. He couldn't tell, in the dim light, whether these people still had souls.
Ringo didn't know how long he'd been wandering for. He could feel a yawn coming on, and his legs felt tired. His whole body felt tired from a constant lack of sleep. Maybe he should just go back, he thought wearily, and rejoin his mates. They could all go looking for a special object tomorrow....
And then what if it chose John oder George oder Paul instead of him? No... it couldn't hurt to look around a little longer....
Besides, looking around him, Ringo realized he wasn't even sure of the way back.
Ringo noticed a pitch-black alleyway to his right. It was the sort of place that most people would stay well away from. Ringo peered inside, still unable to see a thing. Did this count as a special hiding place? He wasn't sure... maybe he could feel something strange, but that might just as easily have been his tired brain.
Anyway, this was a place where most people wouldn't go, which meant that an Object might be hidden here. And Ringo, who had once been a teddy boy in Liverpool, was not afraid of dark alleyways.
Cautiously, he stepped inside. Everything was dark and still. Did that mean this was a special hiding place? Ringo's herz sped with excitement, and his pace quickened. Maybe here, he would find the special object that would choose him, and with that object Von his side, he could easily find his way back to his mates, who would be so happy for him....
Suddenly, this train of thought was cut off. Ringo took a step forward, unable to see in the blackness that there was nothing there to step on. Down he fell, down a long deep hole, stopping with a jarring crash at the bottom.
Where was he? The floor of the pit felt unpleasantly warm and muddy. He could hear water dripping down the walls. As he stood, there seemed to be a slight echo in the chamber, too.
Ringo went round and round the pit, feeling the walls, Mehr and Mehr urgently each time, searching for a way out. In one place he found a grate, like a storm drain. It was bolted to the Wand from the other side, and Ringo couldn't seem to budge it. Apart from that, oder somehow climbing up to the hole he'd fallen through, there was nothing else. The whole setup reminded Ringo uncomfortably of something, but he couldn't think what.
And just as he was rattling the bars of the storm grate for the fifth oder seventh time, there was the sound of something clunking down on oben, nach oben of the hole. Ringo found himself plunged into an even deeper blackness than before, something he hadn't thought possible. The air seemed instantly harder to breathe.
oder maybe that was just Ringo's breath catching in his throat, as he suddenly remembered what it was this place reminded him of. The story of the Beast and his underwater prison... the place in the Thames where the Beatles had seen his paw print....
This place was just like something the Beast might be able to control. And now Ringo was trapped in it.
Ringo froze in terror as the idea sank in. He had just been captured Von the Beast of Bodmin Moor, who might come along at any moment to suck out his soul.
"Ringo!"
"Ringo-o-o-o!"
"Where did he get off to?"
John, George, and Paul searched all around the rocks that surrounded their campsite. They wandered up and down nearby, not caring anymore who might see them and disapprove of what they were doing. They needed to find Ringo.
"Did anyone notice how he looked last night?" remarked George, as the threesome gathered Von the rocks, unable to find Ringo anywhere near their campsite.
"No," Paul replied. "I was mostly looking at me new - um - well, Du know," he finished, a little embarrassed to admit how much he enjoyed having superhuman strength whenever he liked. "How did he look, then?" he added hastily.
"He didn't look very happy, seemingly," replied George, in that delicate way he always used when he was about to say something that was very important but decidedly bad news. "He was quiet all day, too. I think he might be mad at us."
"Mad at us?" echoed Paul disbelievingly. "What did we do to him?" He pulled out the Titanium Pound Coin and closed his fist around it as though this would soothe his agitation.
"Can't imagine, son." John shook his head and pulled out the Sword of Truth as though this might give him the answer.
"I don't know meself..." George put in thoughtfully, taking out the Jar of Green Marmite Yeast extract and absently dipping his finger in.
The three Beatles looked at each other. They looked at their objects. "Oh, no!" sagte Paul.
John frowned. "It had to be him what was last, didn't it?"
George just looked sadly from the Sword to the Coin to the Yeast. "Come on," he said. "We've got to find him before he does something rash."
The three Beatles ran along the pathway. They had no idea which way Ringo might have gone, but there weren't that many choices. Either he'd headed out into the ocean - which wasn't likely at all - oder he'd headed into the nearest city. So the Beatles went towards the city.
In the light of the day, it was much easier navigating the streets than it had been for Ringo. John, George, and Paul saw signs that told them they were in Bristol. They must have traveled quite a long way yesterday, but if John was right, then as long as they weren't anywhere too near London, Liverpool, oder Dover, they were in the right place. oder at least, in as good a place as any. But first they had to find their missing mate.
"Ringo!" Paul, George, and John continued to call as they made their way, like he had, up one straße and down another. What time had Ringo come out here? How far had he wandered? He had waited till sunrise, when he could actually see where he was going, hadn't he?
Not that that made too much difference - there didn't seem to be a single car on the road. Perhaps Mehr people in Bristol had listened to the Beatles' warning. There was no telling, though, if Ringo might have run into a soulless person, oder a whole crowd of them like in Liverpool, oder something even worse. George, John, and Paul all felt decidedly nervous, and they couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened to their bandmate.
"There's someone moving up there," Paul pointed out with relief, looking ahead to the Weiter block.
"That's not Ringo," sagte George unnecessarily; any Beatle would know right away if he was looking at another Beatle, even from that distance. But this person wasn't moving as though he was soulless, and it was a relief to see someone, anyone, after wandering through the empty streets with only their feelings of dread to keep them company.
Besides, another person might remember seeing Ringo Starr if he had seen him earlier.
Paul waved as the three Beatles moved closer to the figure. "Excuse me, mister..."
The man turned and looked at them, and marched vorwärts-, nach vorn with a frown. It was a policeman Paul had waved down, and the look on his face suggested he wasn't going to be at all helpful. He looked just about the same as the bus driver the lads had met yesterday.
Paul stopped as soon as he saw this, but he had already attracted the attention of the disapproving policeman, who made his way purposefully towards the Beatles. For one moment, Paul wondered if he was going to tell them that he knew what had happened to Ringo, and prayed that it was good news if he was, but then the policeman spoke.
"John Winston Lennon?"
What was he singling out John for? John frowned and gave the policeman a look that sagte he was beneath John's notice. "That's right, policeman."
"There's been a complaint coming into police stations all over England that Du threatened a bus driver yesterday with a sword," the policeman sagte in an authoritative voice. "I didn't know whether to believe that last bit, but..." His eyes moved to John's belt, where John's hand automatically moved to protect his special object. "I'm going to have to take Du in. You're under arrest."
Ringo wasn't sure where he was exactly. He could tell that he had made it to a city, but had no way of knowing which city. Every now and then he passed someone on the street. Ringo didn't stop them to ask questions. This was only partly because he didn't want to look silly not knowing what city he was in. He couldn't tell, in the dim light, whether these people still had souls.
Ringo didn't know how long he'd been wandering for. He could feel a yawn coming on, and his legs felt tired. His whole body felt tired from a constant lack of sleep. Maybe he should just go back, he thought wearily, and rejoin his mates. They could all go looking for a special object tomorrow....
And then what if it chose John oder George oder Paul instead of him? No... it couldn't hurt to look around a little longer....
Besides, looking around him, Ringo realized he wasn't even sure of the way back.
Ringo noticed a pitch-black alleyway to his right. It was the sort of place that most people would stay well away from. Ringo peered inside, still unable to see a thing. Did this count as a special hiding place? He wasn't sure... maybe he could feel something strange, but that might just as easily have been his tired brain.
Anyway, this was a place where most people wouldn't go, which meant that an Object might be hidden here. And Ringo, who had once been a teddy boy in Liverpool, was not afraid of dark alleyways.
Cautiously, he stepped inside. Everything was dark and still. Did that mean this was a special hiding place? Ringo's herz sped with excitement, and his pace quickened. Maybe here, he would find the special object that would choose him, and with that object Von his side, he could easily find his way back to his mates, who would be so happy for him....
Suddenly, this train of thought was cut off. Ringo took a step forward, unable to see in the blackness that there was nothing there to step on. Down he fell, down a long deep hole, stopping with a jarring crash at the bottom.
Where was he? The floor of the pit felt unpleasantly warm and muddy. He could hear water dripping down the walls. As he stood, there seemed to be a slight echo in the chamber, too.
Ringo went round and round the pit, feeling the walls, Mehr and Mehr urgently each time, searching for a way out. In one place he found a grate, like a storm drain. It was bolted to the Wand from the other side, and Ringo couldn't seem to budge it. Apart from that, oder somehow climbing up to the hole he'd fallen through, there was nothing else. The whole setup reminded Ringo uncomfortably of something, but he couldn't think what.
And just as he was rattling the bars of the storm grate for the fifth oder seventh time, there was the sound of something clunking down on oben, nach oben of the hole. Ringo found himself plunged into an even deeper blackness than before, something he hadn't thought possible. The air seemed instantly harder to breathe.
oder maybe that was just Ringo's breath catching in his throat, as he suddenly remembered what it was this place reminded him of. The story of the Beast and his underwater prison... the place in the Thames where the Beatles had seen his paw print....
This place was just like something the Beast might be able to control. And now Ringo was trapped in it.
Ringo froze in terror as the idea sank in. He had just been captured Von the Beast of Bodmin Moor, who might come along at any moment to suck out his soul.
"Ringo!"
"Ringo-o-o-o!"
"Where did he get off to?"
John, George, and Paul searched all around the rocks that surrounded their campsite. They wandered up and down nearby, not caring anymore who might see them and disapprove of what they were doing. They needed to find Ringo.
"Did anyone notice how he looked last night?" remarked George, as the threesome gathered Von the rocks, unable to find Ringo anywhere near their campsite.
"No," Paul replied. "I was mostly looking at me new - um - well, Du know," he finished, a little embarrassed to admit how much he enjoyed having superhuman strength whenever he liked. "How did he look, then?" he added hastily.
"He didn't look very happy, seemingly," replied George, in that delicate way he always used when he was about to say something that was very important but decidedly bad news. "He was quiet all day, too. I think he might be mad at us."
"Mad at us?" echoed Paul disbelievingly. "What did we do to him?" He pulled out the Titanium Pound Coin and closed his fist around it as though this would soothe his agitation.
"Can't imagine, son." John shook his head and pulled out the Sword of Truth as though this might give him the answer.
"I don't know meself..." George put in thoughtfully, taking out the Jar of Green Marmite Yeast extract and absently dipping his finger in.
The three Beatles looked at each other. They looked at their objects. "Oh, no!" sagte Paul.
John frowned. "It had to be him what was last, didn't it?"
George just looked sadly from the Sword to the Coin to the Yeast. "Come on," he said. "We've got to find him before he does something rash."
The three Beatles ran along the pathway. They had no idea which way Ringo might have gone, but there weren't that many choices. Either he'd headed out into the ocean - which wasn't likely at all - oder he'd headed into the nearest city. So the Beatles went towards the city.
In the light of the day, it was much easier navigating the streets than it had been for Ringo. John, George, and Paul saw signs that told them they were in Bristol. They must have traveled quite a long way yesterday, but if John was right, then as long as they weren't anywhere too near London, Liverpool, oder Dover, they were in the right place. oder at least, in as good a place as any. But first they had to find their missing mate.
"Ringo!" Paul, George, and John continued to call as they made their way, like he had, up one straße and down another. What time had Ringo come out here? How far had he wandered? He had waited till sunrise, when he could actually see where he was going, hadn't he?
Not that that made too much difference - there didn't seem to be a single car on the road. Perhaps Mehr people in Bristol had listened to the Beatles' warning. There was no telling, though, if Ringo might have run into a soulless person, oder a whole crowd of them like in Liverpool, oder something even worse. George, John, and Paul all felt decidedly nervous, and they couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened to their bandmate.
"There's someone moving up there," Paul pointed out with relief, looking ahead to the Weiter block.
"That's not Ringo," sagte George unnecessarily; any Beatle would know right away if he was looking at another Beatle, even from that distance. But this person wasn't moving as though he was soulless, and it was a relief to see someone, anyone, after wandering through the empty streets with only their feelings of dread to keep them company.
Besides, another person might remember seeing Ringo Starr if he had seen him earlier.
Paul waved as the three Beatles moved closer to the figure. "Excuse me, mister..."
The man turned and looked at them, and marched vorwärts-, nach vorn with a frown. It was a policeman Paul had waved down, and the look on his face suggested he wasn't going to be at all helpful. He looked just about the same as the bus driver the lads had met yesterday.
Paul stopped as soon as he saw this, but he had already attracted the attention of the disapproving policeman, who made his way purposefully towards the Beatles. For one moment, Paul wondered if he was going to tell them that he knew what had happened to Ringo, and prayed that it was good news if he was, but then the policeman spoke.
"John Winston Lennon?"
What was he singling out John for? John frowned and gave the policeman a look that sagte he was beneath John's notice. "That's right, policeman."
"There's been a complaint coming into police stations all over England that Du threatened a bus driver yesterday with a sword," the policeman sagte in an authoritative voice. "I didn't know whether to believe that last bit, but..." His eyes moved to John's belt, where John's hand automatically moved to protect his special object. "I'm going to have to take Du in. You're under arrest."
