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From The Dark

Page 27

by Tobey Alexander


  That was when it happened.

  Swann felt an odd sensation, a sharp tug across his chest as if something had attached itself to his beating heart and tried to yank it free from his ribs. Swann felt propelled forward and in a split second felt weightless as if he was free falling through the air.

  Snapping his eyes shut a wave of nausea washed over him as his body tossed and tumbled through the air.

  The falling sensation lasted only a handful of heartbeats but felt like a lifetime.

  With no warning, Swann landed on the floor and felt the wind knocked from him.

  Wincing against the pain, he rushed his fingers across his chest to where the strange tugging sensation had been. It relieved him to feel nothing untoward at his touch. Gasping for air, he rolled himself over onto his back and slowly opened his eyes.

  She was there.

  Stood above him peering down, her expression mirroring the look of curiosity he had painted on his face.

  ‘How did you get here?’ She asked, her voice tainted with an Eastern European accent but her English was impeccable.

  ‘I, I climbed.’ Swann stammered as he stood himself up.

  ‘No,’ she snapped and pointed to the surrounding landscape.

  Swann could not form an answer as he looked beyond the woman and to the landscape surrounding them. It was not the same as it had been, Swann no longer stood in the barren land atop the cliffs of Kalymnos.

  Instead, he found himself stood in a wide open field filled with barbed wire and crosses of splintered wood. The smell of death was in the air; fires burned all around the ground appeared pock-marked and scorched.

  ‘Where…’ Swann did not finish his sentence as a figure emerged from a mound of earth off to his side.

  Gripping his pistol in hand, the soldier appeared, bloodied and muddied, from the unseen trench and stormed across the uneven ground firing shots and screaming.

  Screaming in German.

  Swann’s eyes were wide as the crescendoing sound of an engine reverberated high in the air. Snatching his attention to the sky a bi-plane plummeted towards the ground high above them, plumes of smoke billowing from the burning fuselage as it fell.

  Swann was, impossibly, stood in the middle of a battlefield.

  ‘You can’t be here.’ The woman barked and before he could argue she shoved him hard in the chest sending him tumbling to the floor.

  Except Swann did not land on the floor.

  The last thing he saw was the tumbling bi-plane explode in a ball of flame as it crashed into the ground off behind the woman.

  Swann once again felt himself tumbling, but this time he felt nothing as unconsciousness washed over him and the world went black around him.

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  Swann felt cold, too cold.

  Although his eyes closed, he felt the same swimming feeling he had. It felt familiar, but the disorientation made him feel like he was chasing distant memories. Something was wrong, and he could not place his finger on it. Every time he tried to claw back the memory of what felt familiar about the swimming feeling, his mind found it difficult to focus.

  ‘Mr Swann?’ A voice echoed in the distance, far away but, he felt the source of the sound was close to him.

  It was a man’s voice.

  Although Swann was awash with disorientation and fogged memories that danced just out of reach he knew the voice was unfamiliar. There was nothing distinct about the voice, other than it sounded like a younger man than himself. There was a softness to the voice. Nothing too distinctive but as Swann drew himself closer to it, the voice sounded somewhat soft and welcoming.

  ‘Mr Swann, can you hear me?’

  Drawing himself upwards, following the voice as it grew louder and clearer, Swann regained his senses. Muscle fibres twitched and, although he had not realised he could not feel them, his fingers tingled.

  Pushing through the fog and haze, Swann felt himself slipping back to a sense of consciousness and being.

  Without conscious effort, or any warning, Swann’s eyes opened, and the bright light contracted his pupils. Squinting against the bright light of the medical room Swann allowed his senses to come back to him.

  The smell that filled his nose was surgical. There was a faint essence of chlorine in the air; it smelled sterile and artificial. Explaining the feeling of cold, Swann’s skin was goose bumped as the air-conditioned air circulated. Beyond the sound of the voice, which had not yet spoken again, Swann could hear machines humming and pinging.

  As his eyes settled Swann allowed himself to open his eyes and take in his surroundings.

  ‘Where am I?’ Swann coughed, his throat feeling rough and parched as he spoke.

  Looking around the room it greeted him with the sight of painted concrete walls. The layer of paint concealed cracks, but he could still see their faint zigzags beneath the bright white paint. It was a small room, housing the bed he was on and a handful of aluminium cabinets mounted on the walls all around.

  Turning his head to the side, he could finally see the source of the voice that had drawn him from his hazed unconsciousness.

  The young man looking at him had a head of thick parted blonde hair, he looked to be in his thirties. A pair of vibrant blue eyes stared from beneath a pair of designer glasses while his cheeks seemed flushed and red.

  ‘My name is Doctor Adrian Adams,’ the young doctor brushed a hand against his white lab coat before holding it out for Swann.

  It seemed an odd gesture, but Swann took the hand all the same and shook it. The first thing Swann noticed was the Doctor’s skin was soft, most definitely the hands of a physician and much different from his own. Swann’s fingers were rough and chapped, his palms marked with calluses from hours of climbing.

  ‘What is this place?’ Swann pressed again as he rubbed his temple to dissipate the hazed confusion he felt. ‘Where am I?’

  ‘You’re safe, that’s what matters at the moment, and I know you’ve got a million and one questions,’ the Doctor busied himself as he spoke. ‘They have asked me to leave the explanations to the General who is most eager to talk to you.’

  ‘The General? What the hell is going on?’

  As if on cue and welcomed with a look of relief on the younger Doctor’s face, the door to the small medical room opened.

  Swann took in the uniformed man that now filled the doorway. Drab green uniform had been meticulously pressed, trouser creases looking almost etched into the fabric. Bulled shoes reflected the lighting suspended in the ceiling and a head of grey hair trimmed, the back and sides shaved almost to the scalp. Perhaps the neatest, trimmed white beard marked the officer’s cheeks and chin and his face looked stern and less than welcoming.

  ‘I see for once Doctor you did as I asked!’ The scorn was clear in the gruff General’s voice, and Swann saw the young Doctor’s cheeks flush. ‘Thank you for that, may I have the room?’

  Without offering a word, the Doctor ushered himself towards the open door. Passing through the threshold, he cast a quick glance back at Swann, now sat on the gurney. Catching the younger man’s gaze for a second, there was an odd feeling, but before he could place it, the Doctor stepped through the door and pulled it closed behind him.

  ‘Well,’ Swann began and turned his attention to the uniformed General. ‘I hope you’ll be a little more forthcoming with what the hell is going on than the doctor was.’

  ‘He was only following my orders,’ the General answered, his thick Scottish accent making his words sound even sterner. ‘I am General Cole and am the assigned Officer overseeing Operation Tempus which is where you find yourself now.’

  General Cole stepped across the room and stood himself at the end of Swann’s bed. Although in his late fifties he looked a fit man. Beneath the olive grey material of his tunic, Swann could see a muscular frame almost bursting to be free of the taught material. The General’s skin looked lightly tanned with a healthy glow, and his gaze reflected that of a man who had se
en and experienced a lot in his lifetime.

  ‘I guess that should mean something?’ Swann pressed as he tried his best to move past the swimming sensation in his head.

  ‘I would hope not!’ The General snapped. ‘This isn’t the type of operation you see plastered on the MoD websites and in the news. But before I tell you anything more, there are… formalities.’

  Swann sensed he was being set up to fall. Something about the General’s precise mannerisms and the sudden appearance of a small tablet device in the officer’s hand had him feeling on edge.

  ‘Why do I feel you’re leading me down some path here General Cole?’

  Swann had regained enough of his senses to stand from the table. No longer dressed in his climbing ensemble, he now wore the thin fabric of a hospital gown. Standing facing the confident General he felt underdressed and a little exposed.

  ‘I would ask for a little trust, what I will tell you has been classified since the fifties.’

  Swann raised an eyebrow as he watched the General’s demeanour soften a little. The gruffness of his voice waned, and the old man looked marginally less of an authority figure. Placing the tablet onto the hospital bed, Swann had been occupying the older man swiped the screen to life.

  ‘Trust works both ways,’ Swann began as he scanned the room. ‘My clothes?’

  ‘We can get to that,’ General Cole answered, his attention remaining on the screen as he swiped his fingers across it until he found what he wanted. ‘First Mr Swann I would ask for a signature.’

  General Cole tapped the small screen one last time and then turned the device so Swann could read it. Holding the older man’s gaze for a moment, Swann did not want to look away. Seeing that the General would give him nothing else he looked down at the tablet.

  ‘We know you’ve signed this before, but it has been a long time.’

  The Royal Crest of Great Britain sat at the top of the screen and the words OFFICIAL SECRETS ACT 1989 lay beneath it. Lifting the tablet from the table, Swann did all he could to hide the nervous shake of his hands.

  The General was right. Swann had signed a copy many years before. Back then it had been a paper copy but now, faced with the Military Act once again it did nothing to abate the air of suspicion that Swann felt.

  ‘Why do I need to sign this?’ Swann pressed as he swiped through the legal jargon on the page.

  ‘Because I can’t risk telling you anything about why you are here if you don’t!’ General Cole said matter-of-factly and stood watching Swann.

  Swann looked from the General to the screen and back again. Somehow the fact he had woken in the confines of a small hospital room, greeted by a nervous doctor and now faced with an overconfident Army General all added to the mystery. Most people would have signed the document for no other reason than to get answers.

  Swann, however, knew the magnitude of the document. True enough, he wanted to know what was happening but if what he heard was against his morals, he would be powerless to do anything about it. Being asked, as a civilian, to sign the Act told him there was something they wanted to protect. There would be no way, without serious repercussions, of righting any wrongs he felt he may discover.

  Torn but filled with intrigue Swann agreed and scribbled his signature with his finger across the bottom of the screen.

  ‘Good!’ The General snapped and ripped the tablet from Swann’s grip before he had time to change his mind. ‘You may get yourself dressed and then perhaps, shall we say in ten minutes, join me outside.’

  General Cole didn’t wait for an answer from Swann before he turned and marched himself across to the door. Pulling it open he turned to look at Swann before he left the room.

  ‘Michael Swann,’ he drawled. ‘What you are about to learn will be difficult to accept. I only ask that you keep an open mind and only when you have all the facts make your decision.’

  ‘My decision?’ Swann interjected as the General stepped out into the corridor beyond. ‘My decision about what?’

  The General never answered. Instead, the older man held the door open for the young doctor to step back into the room before disappearing along the corridor.

  ‘I take it you signed? The Doctor asked as he handed Swann, a pile of clothes.

  ‘I don’t think I had a choice did I?’ He answered as he took the clothes.

  For a moment the young doctor looked surprised at Swann’s brashness. Although his reply was truthful, it had seemed to catch the younger man off-guard.

  ‘Call me Adrian,’ the Doctor stammered. ‘If you agree to come on board, then we will work closely together.’

  Awash with curiosity Swann fought the urge to interrogate the young man. He sensed that he was an intelligent young man, but Adrian looked as if he lacked the social experience. Somehow Swann sensed Adrian favoured science and other things far above socialising and spending time with people.

  ‘My name is Michael; I think you already know though,’ Swann smiled. ‘But most people call me Swann.’

  ‘Well, Swann, I expect you’re eager to hear what General Cole has to tell you, so I won’t keep you.’

  Leaving Swann alone in the hospital room the young Doctor cast a sly glance back towards him as he stepped out of the hospital gown and dressed in his new clothes. Although they weren’t his own, Swann found that,, the clothes they had given him were the right fit and size.

  Fully dressed he eagerly left the room and went in search of General Cole.

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  Swann was met with more of the same concrete interior as he stepped out into the corridor. Unlike the white paint of the medical room, the halls were dark and dreary. Something chilled the air, but not through air conditioning more because he suspected, he was underground.

  A thick black line was painted along the wall at waist height. As Swann wandered along the corridor, he reached an intersection in the path and read the stencilled lettering on the wall:

  DISTORTION ZONE >

  < ADMINISTRATION

  < ACCOMMODATION

  FIRING RANGE >

  Unsure of the direction he should take Swann re-read the signage until the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention. Turning he was glad to see it was General Cole who now walked towards him.

  Little had changed about the older general’s face. In the dim light of the corridor, the shadows around his eyes seemed deeper but other than that his emotionless face gave off no sign of his thoughts or mood.

  ‘If you would follow me this way please,’ General Cole said as he stepped up to and past Swann. ‘There is someone I would like you to meet.’

  Without waiting to see if Swann would accept the invitation, the General stepped past him and continued along the corridor. Having read the stencilled letters on the wall, Swann assumed they were heading towards the Firing Range or else the strangely named Distortion Zone.

  ‘Care to tell me something that may make sense of all this?’ Swann quizzed as he stepped to General Cole’s side.

  The other man’s pace was quick, his footfalls rhythmic and steady on the concrete floor. They had moved along the length of another corridor before the General acknowledged Swann’s question.

  ‘Do you know the Latin word Tempus Mr Swann?’

  ‘Not off the top of my head.’ He replied. ‘But…’

  ‘It means time Mr Swann,’ General Cole interrupted him. ‘The inscription beneath the banner in my office reads Praeterita Redire which means Return Past. I have spent many years staring at that banner, and still, it means little to me.’

  ‘So, what, are we in some school for Latin phrases or something?’

  Sarcasm had always been Swann’s coping mechanism. In his youth, it had landed him in trouble more than once. It was, he suspected, one reason his military service had been so short. A hot-headed young man, out his teens with a sharp tongue was not your typical recruit into the Armed Forces.

  The slick remark was not lost on General Cole who stopped i
n his tracks and turned to face Swann.

  ‘I have no time for words games and wit Mr Swann,’ the older man barked. ‘I would rather keep my operation a military ensemble, however, it would appear those with the relevant skills do not always find themselves among the rank and file.’

  ‘What skills?’

  Swann could think of nothing he had done or skills he had displayed that would have interested the General stood before him.

  ‘Where have you been today?’ The General asked.

  ‘Here.’ Swann answered.

  ‘And before that, where were you before you woke up in my medical wing?’

  General Cole watched as Swann’s brow furrowed. His fogged mind still obscured his memories, and any recollection of what had brought him here seemed distant and confused. The General amused himself as he watched Swann try to pull together the shattered memories mired beneath a haze of confusion.

  ‘Greece, do you remember that?’ General Cole watched for any sign of recognition, he smirked as the confusion on Swann’s face changed to realisation.

  Swann remembered something. He recalled the dazzling sunrise and the shimmering surface of the turbulent sea. Unconsciously he rubbed the tips of his fingers together as he remembered the coarse stone digging into his skin. Casting himself back through the fog in his head he recalled the steady climb and the crashing waves beneath him.

  The woman!

  A flash at first, her face framed by the bright blue Grecian sky, he did not recognise her face. She somehow felt familiar, but there was nothing about her face that Swann felt he knew.

  ‘Who is she?’ Swann asked, more to himself than the General who stood waiting in front of him.

  ‘What happened after you saw her?’

  It was like laying a trail of breadcrumbs for Swann to follow. Guided by the questions of General Cole he could push himself through the fog and confusion until he remembered.

  Swann remembered standing atop the crumbling cliffs; he recalled the strange noise and the sudden appearance of the strange woman. The odd blue tendrils of smoke that hung in the air where she had once stood.

 

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