"Ringooo!"
John and George jumped to their feet, but Paul was quickest, reaching the edge of the cliff in an instant. Ringo's slender fingers clutched at the cliffside, doing all they could do to stop him from tumbling down. His terrified blue eyes found Paul's face, as he cried out in fear.
Paul reached down, scattering a handful of metal pieces he had been collecting, and tried to grab Ringo's hand, but that nearly upset Ringo's grip on the cliff. Ringo clutched at the rocks again, just barely managing to grab hold. His fingers were slipping. "Paul! Help!"
Paul reached forward again, determined to get it right this time. His fingers brushed against a small piece of metal as he tried to grab Ringo's hand. He would not - would not - let his best friend fall to his death hundreds of feet below....
And suddenly, a surge of strength rippled through Paul's muscles. His hands closed around the piece of rock that Ringo clung to and with a small effort, Paul lifted it - rock, Ringo, and all - and set both down a safe distance from the edge, Ringo shaking and clinging to Paul.
John and George had been watching in horror this whole time, ready to move in and help if needed, but afraid that the smallest interference could send Ringo tumbling down. Now Paul sensed their eyes on him and looked up, expecting to see his mates trying to pretend they hadn't been worried - but instead saw them staring at him with looks of astonishment on their faces.
"Paul," said George at last, "how did you do that?"
Paul blinked at them. "Do what?"
"Lift that rock there!" John gestured impatiently to the rock.
"Oh." Paul turned to the large piece of cliff that rested next to him and Ringo. "I dunno. Maybe it was one of them - temporary surges of strength in a crisis or something like that."
"Maybe." George was still staring at Paul with a thoughtful look on his face. He didn't seem convinced.
"I don't care how he did it, I'm just gad he did," Ringo put in, still a little shakily.
John and George were exchanging glances, having a silent conversation. "Wouldn't it be nice if he could do it again, though?" remarked John mildly. "What's that you've got in your hand, Paul?"
In all the excitement, Paul hadn't even noticed that he was holding anything, but now he could feel the smooth hard metal against his palm. He must have accidentally picked up one of the pieces of metal he'd dropped while saving Ringo. Paul opened his hand and the four Beatles gathered round to look at it.
It was a small, flat, and perfectly round disc a little bigger than a coin. The front, too, looked like a coin - there was even an image of Queen Elizabeth II with the letters "D G Reg" engraved on that side. When Paul turned the coin over, though, it was another story. The image on the back showed a terrible beast, like an evil cougar with extra-long fangs. All four Beatles recognized the dreaded creature from the only other picture they'd seen. And yet, in this engraving, something in the beast's eyes looked scared, like he knew that something which could destroy him was coming for him. The picture was still terrifying to look at, but the Beatles realized what this meant.
"The Titanium Pound Coin!" breathed Paul eagerly. "I've got it!"
All the Beatles cheered. John and George were unsurprised. They felt they should have guessed, what with the way this place felt strange and unreal, that there was a third Object nearby.
"Three Objects in four days!" The boys were unstoppable. They could do anything. Except....
"Has anyone figured out a way to get off this cliff?" This came from Ringo, eyeing the drop he'd fallen from nervously.
Paul smiled and flexed the muscles that felt extra-strong in the presence of the Titanium Pound Coin. "I've got a way."
With his Titanium strength, Paul was able to lift John, George, and Ringo all at the same time with no problem, as well as all their instruments. John and George were willing, when they saw that, to let Paul carry them down the cliff. Ringo had more reservations about that, but eventually agreed to the plan.
The way down the cliff was still a scary experience for all of them, though. The Pound Coin didn't make Paul get any bigger or grow extra arms, and it was difficult for all three of his mates to hang onto him at once. More than once, Paul couldn't find a proper hand-or-foothold on the cliffside, and had to dig in his fingers or his toes to make himself one. Hanging on wasn't easy when he had to keep the Pound coin in his hand the whole time. But Paul just insisted, the entire time, that he could carry all of his mates down the cliff, and somehow he did.
At the bottom, John, Ringo, and George dropped down to the nice sandy beach, and then Paul did the same. Paul stashed the Coin in his pocket, noticing right away with slight disappointment how the strength in his arms returned to normal.
The beach itself was deserted. It seemed that even the people who refused to stay inside and listen to the Beatles' warning were uncomfortable exposing themselves this much. But a short walk took the lads to a port, where there were still boats coming in like usual.
Ringo felt suddenly nervous. "I never thought before..." he said slowly, "but how do we stop boats - and planes and things - from bringin' people here?"
John grinned at him. "That's not a problem," he said cheerfully. "We've got the Sword of Truth on our side."
John stepped up to the boats as people began to appear on their decks, telling them all, "You want to be careful coming back here. There's a Beast on the loose."
Paul and George followed John down the port, while Ringo hung back, wondering if John had forgotten the bus driver from that morning.
Of course, some of the older folk thought he was just making it up and a few who saw his sword thought he was trying to threaten them and said they would call the police unless he left them alone. But there were some young sailors who seemed ready to believe what John was saying.
"I think I've read about the Beast of Bodmin Moor," one said thoughtfully. "Once. Are you saying it's real, then?"
John nodded. "And it's been taking people's souls. You want to watch out for that."
"Is that why you've got a sword?" another young sailor asked with interest. "Should we get swords too?"
Trying not to think about how England would be with everyone carrying swords around, John told them it wasn't necessary. "This is a special sword. We're on a quest to stop the Beast," he said.
The sailors wished him luck and promised to spread the word about the Beast around at the airports and such places. It wasn't perfect, but it was the best they could get right now. At least they had three of the special objects. Hopefully their luck would hold and they could find the other two before things got too much out of hand.
"There's just one other thing," Paul said, as Ringo came to join his mates. "Have any of you lot got a boat we can borrow?"
A short while later, the Beatles were rowing round the coast of England comfortably in a borrowed rowboat. The four boys all took turns at the oars, and it was a mostly peaceful day. John, George, and Paul talked a lot about how close they were to defeating the Beast, each of them keeping his special object close by his side. Ringo was mostly quiet, and thought about his near fall off the cliff that day, wondering how many more situations like that the foursome would get into before all this was over.
The night was spent in a rocky cove mostly sheltered from the public. It turned out none of the Beatles hadn't forgotten the way some people seemed to resent them and to blame them for ruining the country. Ringo didn't want to sleep outside at all - he hadn't forgotten that the Beast could find them anywhere - but his mates insisted that it was all right, that the Beast still probably thought they were dead, and that even if the Beast did find them, they had three of the special objects and that would protect them.
Ringo watched his mates as the sun set over the rocks. John had taken out the Sword of Truth and seemed to be playing with it, telling lies and half-truths and seeing how much the Sword would let him get away with. George had gotten out the Marmite Yeast and was eating small fingerfuls of the smooth green spread. Paul didn't warn him against doing that - he was too busy holding the Titanium Pound Coin and playing with it, experimenting with all the things he could lift with it - his mates included.
And Ringo sighed. It seemed to him that his mates were letting the objects that had chosen them go to their heads, making them too confident about the Beast not finding them here. Or maybe he only felt that way because he was upset that none of the objects had picked him yet. Who was he kidding? Of course he was upset about that! When the Beatles had started this quest, it had never occurred to Ringo that the special objects would choose individual Beatles.
But the next object would choose Ringo, right? It had to. He was the only one without an Object he could call his own. But what if it didn't work that way? What if the other two objects attached themselves to two of his mates and Ringo never had a special object for himself....
As the sky grew dark, Ringo's mates finally put away their special objects and lay down to sleep. Ringo had to admit to himself that he would feel safer with an object of his own, too. Ringo stared up at the night sky, trying to close his eyes, to ignore his feelings....
Ringo drifted into an uneasy half-sleep, his mind still full of the same thoughts. All his mates had objects and he didn't. John had gone into the wall in a bank and come back with the Sword of Truth. George had gone into a pantry in a hospital and come back with the Jar of Green Marmite Yeast Extract. Paul - Paul was the only one so far who had found his object with his mates around. Still, that wasn't the way it usually worked... Ringo tossed and turned on the ground in his half-asleep state... One Beatle normally went off to find an Object, and that Beatle got to bring it back and keep it. The Beatle who found the object was usually alone....
The next day, John was greeted by bright sunlight. He opened his eyes feeling relaxed and happy, and finally like he'd gotten enough sleep. Three objects down, two to go. The Beast of Bodmin Moor didn't stand a chance.
"Morning, lads," John called over to his mates, still lying on the beach. Paul stirred, and George sat up, rubbing his eyes. Both of them, too, looked more refreshed than they had in days.
But none of them were too relaxed to notice what was missing.
"Ringo? Where's Ringo?"
John and George jumped to their feet, but Paul was quickest, reaching the edge of the cliff in an instant. Ringo's slender fingers clutched at the cliffside, doing all they could do to stop him from tumbling down. His terrified blue eyes found Paul's face, as he cried out in fear.
Paul reached down, scattering a handful of metal pieces he had been collecting, and tried to grab Ringo's hand, but that nearly upset Ringo's grip on the cliff. Ringo clutched at the rocks again, just barely managing to grab hold. His fingers were slipping. "Paul! Help!"
Paul reached forward again, determined to get it right this time. His fingers brushed against a small piece of metal as he tried to grab Ringo's hand. He would not - would not - let his best friend fall to his death hundreds of feet below....
And suddenly, a surge of strength rippled through Paul's muscles. His hands closed around the piece of rock that Ringo clung to and with a small effort, Paul lifted it - rock, Ringo, and all - and set both down a safe distance from the edge, Ringo shaking and clinging to Paul.
John and George had been watching in horror this whole time, ready to move in and help if needed, but afraid that the smallest interference could send Ringo tumbling down. Now Paul sensed their eyes on him and looked up, expecting to see his mates trying to pretend they hadn't been worried - but instead saw them staring at him with looks of astonishment on their faces.
"Paul," said George at last, "how did you do that?"
Paul blinked at them. "Do what?"
"Lift that rock there!" John gestured impatiently to the rock.
"Oh." Paul turned to the large piece of cliff that rested next to him and Ringo. "I dunno. Maybe it was one of them - temporary surges of strength in a crisis or something like that."
"Maybe." George was still staring at Paul with a thoughtful look on his face. He didn't seem convinced.
"I don't care how he did it, I'm just gad he did," Ringo put in, still a little shakily.
John and George were exchanging glances, having a silent conversation. "Wouldn't it be nice if he could do it again, though?" remarked John mildly. "What's that you've got in your hand, Paul?"
In all the excitement, Paul hadn't even noticed that he was holding anything, but now he could feel the smooth hard metal against his palm. He must have accidentally picked up one of the pieces of metal he'd dropped while saving Ringo. Paul opened his hand and the four Beatles gathered round to look at it.
It was a small, flat, and perfectly round disc a little bigger than a coin. The front, too, looked like a coin - there was even an image of Queen Elizabeth II with the letters "D G Reg" engraved on that side. When Paul turned the coin over, though, it was another story. The image on the back showed a terrible beast, like an evil cougar with extra-long fangs. All four Beatles recognized the dreaded creature from the only other picture they'd seen. And yet, in this engraving, something in the beast's eyes looked scared, like he knew that something which could destroy him was coming for him. The picture was still terrifying to look at, but the Beatles realized what this meant.
"The Titanium Pound Coin!" breathed Paul eagerly. "I've got it!"
All the Beatles cheered. John and George were unsurprised. They felt they should have guessed, what with the way this place felt strange and unreal, that there was a third Object nearby.
"Three Objects in four days!" The boys were unstoppable. They could do anything. Except....
"Has anyone figured out a way to get off this cliff?" This came from Ringo, eyeing the drop he'd fallen from nervously.
Paul smiled and flexed the muscles that felt extra-strong in the presence of the Titanium Pound Coin. "I've got a way."
With his Titanium strength, Paul was able to lift John, George, and Ringo all at the same time with no problem, as well as all their instruments. John and George were willing, when they saw that, to let Paul carry them down the cliff. Ringo had more reservations about that, but eventually agreed to the plan.
The way down the cliff was still a scary experience for all of them, though. The Pound Coin didn't make Paul get any bigger or grow extra arms, and it was difficult for all three of his mates to hang onto him at once. More than once, Paul couldn't find a proper hand-or-foothold on the cliffside, and had to dig in his fingers or his toes to make himself one. Hanging on wasn't easy when he had to keep the Pound coin in his hand the whole time. But Paul just insisted, the entire time, that he could carry all of his mates down the cliff, and somehow he did.
At the bottom, John, Ringo, and George dropped down to the nice sandy beach, and then Paul did the same. Paul stashed the Coin in his pocket, noticing right away with slight disappointment how the strength in his arms returned to normal.
The beach itself was deserted. It seemed that even the people who refused to stay inside and listen to the Beatles' warning were uncomfortable exposing themselves this much. But a short walk took the lads to a port, where there were still boats coming in like usual.
Ringo felt suddenly nervous. "I never thought before..." he said slowly, "but how do we stop boats - and planes and things - from bringin' people here?"
John grinned at him. "That's not a problem," he said cheerfully. "We've got the Sword of Truth on our side."
John stepped up to the boats as people began to appear on their decks, telling them all, "You want to be careful coming back here. There's a Beast on the loose."
Paul and George followed John down the port, while Ringo hung back, wondering if John had forgotten the bus driver from that morning.
Of course, some of the older folk thought he was just making it up and a few who saw his sword thought he was trying to threaten them and said they would call the police unless he left them alone. But there were some young sailors who seemed ready to believe what John was saying.
"I think I've read about the Beast of Bodmin Moor," one said thoughtfully. "Once. Are you saying it's real, then?"
John nodded. "And it's been taking people's souls. You want to watch out for that."
"Is that why you've got a sword?" another young sailor asked with interest. "Should we get swords too?"
Trying not to think about how England would be with everyone carrying swords around, John told them it wasn't necessary. "This is a special sword. We're on a quest to stop the Beast," he said.
The sailors wished him luck and promised to spread the word about the Beast around at the airports and such places. It wasn't perfect, but it was the best they could get right now. At least they had three of the special objects. Hopefully their luck would hold and they could find the other two before things got too much out of hand.
"There's just one other thing," Paul said, as Ringo came to join his mates. "Have any of you lot got a boat we can borrow?"
A short while later, the Beatles were rowing round the coast of England comfortably in a borrowed rowboat. The four boys all took turns at the oars, and it was a mostly peaceful day. John, George, and Paul talked a lot about how close they were to defeating the Beast, each of them keeping his special object close by his side. Ringo was mostly quiet, and thought about his near fall off the cliff that day, wondering how many more situations like that the foursome would get into before all this was over.
The night was spent in a rocky cove mostly sheltered from the public. It turned out none of the Beatles hadn't forgotten the way some people seemed to resent them and to blame them for ruining the country. Ringo didn't want to sleep outside at all - he hadn't forgotten that the Beast could find them anywhere - but his mates insisted that it was all right, that the Beast still probably thought they were dead, and that even if the Beast did find them, they had three of the special objects and that would protect them.
Ringo watched his mates as the sun set over the rocks. John had taken out the Sword of Truth and seemed to be playing with it, telling lies and half-truths and seeing how much the Sword would let him get away with. George had gotten out the Marmite Yeast and was eating small fingerfuls of the smooth green spread. Paul didn't warn him against doing that - he was too busy holding the Titanium Pound Coin and playing with it, experimenting with all the things he could lift with it - his mates included.
And Ringo sighed. It seemed to him that his mates were letting the objects that had chosen them go to their heads, making them too confident about the Beast not finding them here. Or maybe he only felt that way because he was upset that none of the objects had picked him yet. Who was he kidding? Of course he was upset about that! When the Beatles had started this quest, it had never occurred to Ringo that the special objects would choose individual Beatles.
But the next object would choose Ringo, right? It had to. He was the only one without an Object he could call his own. But what if it didn't work that way? What if the other two objects attached themselves to two of his mates and Ringo never had a special object for himself....
As the sky grew dark, Ringo's mates finally put away their special objects and lay down to sleep. Ringo had to admit to himself that he would feel safer with an object of his own, too. Ringo stared up at the night sky, trying to close his eyes, to ignore his feelings....
Ringo drifted into an uneasy half-sleep, his mind still full of the same thoughts. All his mates had objects and he didn't. John had gone into the wall in a bank and come back with the Sword of Truth. George had gone into a pantry in a hospital and come back with the Jar of Green Marmite Yeast Extract. Paul - Paul was the only one so far who had found his object with his mates around. Still, that wasn't the way it usually worked... Ringo tossed and turned on the ground in his half-asleep state... One Beatle normally went off to find an Object, and that Beatle got to bring it back and keep it. The Beatle who found the object was usually alone....
The next day, John was greeted by bright sunlight. He opened his eyes feeling relaxed and happy, and finally like he'd gotten enough sleep. Three objects down, two to go. The Beast of Bodmin Moor didn't stand a chance.
"Morning, lads," John called over to his mates, still lying on the beach. Paul stirred, and George sat up, rubbing his eyes. Both of them, too, looked more refreshed than they had in days.
But none of them were too relaxed to notice what was missing.
"Ringo? Where's Ringo?"