The Awakened

by Julian Cheek

  Sam peered once more from out behind the trees and was rewarded to see the No 57 bus pull up to the shelter. “So those horrible people can bloody well sod off to wherever they have to be today!” he said to himself. The bus pulled away from the shelter and, luckily today, it appeared to be the right one such that all his fellow travellers who had stood around him earlier, had now departed. He walked out from behind the trees and made a beeline for Timber’s and walked inside.

  Inside, the normal chaos of a typical “caff” could be heard. Cups chinked, knives and forks scratched at the chinaware and the buzz of various voices deep in discussion or laughing at a particular joke could be heard wafting through the atmosphere. Over it all, from time to time, he heard the waitress shout an order to someone behind the wall that separated the kitchen from the dining area. He found a table, thankfully near the window, and stared out into the gloom, waiting patiently for someone to come and take his order. The rain had taken a turn for the worst, if that were possible, and it now lashed down in torrents outside, forcing those hardy enough to venture out, to seek shelter under any overhang possible. Why is it always raining here? Over there it’s always misty, he thought, for no apparent reason, other than he was bored of waiting. He was very hungry. …and if someone didn’t bloody hurry up…

  “Master Gilbert. What a pleasant surprise this dreary, bleak day. What can I get you?” Alice stood slightly behind and to his left, pen and pad in one hand the other reaching out to Sam with a menu. She had a look of guile on her face as if knowing she had managed to creep up without him sensing her.

  “Hello, Alice,” Sam started. “I didn’t hear you come up as I was deep in thought…” Sam stopped in mid-sentence as a link jumped out at him and bit down hard. “Alice! The Alice. The one who had come over here to find him… that Alice.” But, looking at her, straightening her smock and keeping her head down for now, the thought of her being some super “alien” with immense powers, now lost, seemed not only absurd, but frankly, a bit creepy to him. “Erm, I mean, um, well, um…” His vocal dexterity abandoned him as he found himself lost for words.

  Alice looked up. “I am sorry, Sam,” she said, “I didn’t get that. What is it you would like?” She was looking straight at him, her deep eyes seeming to bore into his. Purple flecks visible within her irises… An electric aura seeming to hover around her … Bloody hell, Sam! Get a grip, mate. She will think you are starting to perv over her soon if you are not careful!

  Trying hard not to stare back in turn, Sam forced his eyes to turn back to the menu, proffered by Alice, still sitting in her outstretched hand. “Full English please, Alice,” he blurted out. “And some toast as well if possible?”

  Alice wrote down the order saying, “Toast comes with the full English, Master Gilbert,” another smile playing over her face.

  “Of course it does, you bloody idiot!” Sam ranted at himself under his breath. “I am acting like a bloody lovestruck teenager!” He could sense that his face was starting to redden and he quickly turned around to look out the window, knowing that his actions could be perceived to be rude, but all sense of politeness were rapidly running out the door, calling him to come with it. Sam stayed put.

  “And?” he heard Alice ask.

  “Huh. What? I mean, sorry?” Sam asked, tripping over his words, his face surely now resembling a red sunburnt idiot!

  “What would you like to drink with that? Tea, or coffee?” Alice asked, innocence dripping from her mouth like honey from a bees’ nest.

  “Tea. No, coffee please,” he bumbled, trying desperately to regain the “customer is always right” demeanour, failing miserably though. Looking up, he concluded. “Milk, no sugar please Alice.” That showed her, he thought as she started to turn back to the kitchen, but not before she stopped, hesitated for a second and then bent in low towards Sam. Wondering what she was about to say, he too leant in towards her, not knowing why exactly other than he felt somehow compelled. She waited.

  “Sam,” she half whispered, “the sugar is already on the table. You don’t need to tell me whether you want some or not. That is up to you to sort out yourself!” And then she stood up and walked off. A slight swagger visible in her walk.

  Sam fumed inside for the better part of a minute, furiously trying to straighten the knives and forks which were already expertly placed and straight as arrows and sorting out his serviette into odd shapes, the same finally giving up the ghost and tearing down the middle to lay in pieces on the table. Damn! Get another one from the basket before she comes back. He ordered himself to calm down and chill. This was definitely not how he envisaged his morning turning in to.

  He slowed his breathing, allowing himself to work out fact from fiction. Sam. You know that what you had was just a dream. You know that Alice is no more than the owner of this place and you have known here since you moved here. You have never seen her fly around the place on a broom stick and you probably never will. So bloody well calm down and be real, before she comes back and finds you still gibbering on like some loony!

  He was pleased with himself. He knew that, at times, he needed to be hard on himself otherwise he would be lost in a world of…

  “Sam. Can you move back a bit please? I have brought you your coffee. No sugar!” Again Alice had crept up behind him to deliver his coffee and again Sam was shocked into movement.

  “Of course,” he said, trying to regain order. He looked up, to force himself to face his demons. Alice had a smile on her face and her hair fell forward slightly. Sam, unwittingly, followed the line of it as it cascaded down her neck and then he noticed something. Where was her necklace? She always had that weird thing around her neck and now it was gone. And, more importantly, from memory, it did look a lot like the one I had on in my dream! Sam did not like the way his thinking was going, and he definitely did not like the outcome should his thinking follow some logical conclusion. Before he could pose a question however, she turned back to the kitchens and was gone.

  Alice returned a short while later, but this time, Sam was prepared. The plate was presented and he had to just enjoy the picture for a second. Strips of bacon with the edges crispy, just the way he liked it, fried egg (two of those, if you please!) some heavenly smelling sausages, baked beans and at least three slices of brown toast, adorned his plate. A Full English in every sense of the word. He licked his lips enjoying the anticipation of diving in to this beautifully normal past time.

  “Will that be all, Sam?” Alice asked, again her eyes looking into him as if to speak to his inner self.

  “This looks lovely Alice, thank you. All good here for now.” Just before she started to leave he blurted out, “I, um, I notice you are not wearing your necklace today. Have you lost it?” Even as he heard himself utter the question, he was kicking himself at how stupid it sounded. So what if she isn’t wearing her necklace. It’s not as if she gave it to me when I wasn’t looking and breathed some spell on it to make it enchanted, you idiot! All this flitting through his mind in an instant of rebuke to himself.

  “Thank you for noticing, Sam,” Alice responded. “It’s nice when people take an interest in others. Don’t you think?” She started to move away but not before she uttered one more sentence which hung in the air in front of him. “I gave my necklace to a friend. He needed it for a while. It’s what friends do, don’t you think?” And with that, she disappeared into the kitchen leaving Sam open mouthed in mid bite, wondering whether he had heard what he was sure she had said between the lines.

  As he ate, his mind played over the events of the last few hours and, as often happens when one has a chance to dissect things in peace, a logical sense of order eventually settled in his mind. Of course Alice has nothing to do with my dreams and I am certainly not going to tell her that I dreamt of her! I am sure her friend needed it for some reason and of course she is free to do with it what she will. Dreams are dreams and life goes on. Hey? With that, he turned his attention on what to do with himself that day, as well as
consider the situation back at home. Am I being a bit melodramatic? he thought. No! Mum and dad deserve every bad thing going for them. Stuff ’em! They couldn’t care a monkey’s whether I am there or not. Let them suffer a bit so they can see what it was like to feel rejected. But where to go and where to eat? He continued. And, where to wash, dress, earn money? What about school, fees, living…? All the details of a mundane life flowed into his head threatening to upset his feeling of happiness pervading him at that moment. Instead, he decided to see if he could turn things into an adventure. Hey. Maybe I could just hop onto a bus down to Sandhaven and hang out there for now. I could walk along the beach, chill and spend the day there. Sandhaven was a village on the sea side about 30 minutes away and the thought of going there lifted the clouds that were threatening his day.

  That decided, he looked around for Alice to pay the bill, but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead the other waitress approached him. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  A young girl, probably doing this for pocket money and an opportunity to pay for some make up so she could go and spend it all at a night club, getting drunk and throwing it all up a few short hours later, shot through his head. Weirdo! he said to himself quickly. “Just the bill please.”

  She returned soon afterwards and he paid and got himself ready to leave. Looking at his watch, he saw he had a few minutes to wait, assuming the bus bothered to pitch up! “Say goodbye to Alice for me?” he heard himself say to the waitress, who just looked at him with some consternation. “Just leave now, Sam!” he said.

  Outside, he got himself to the shelter, his backpack firmly on his shoulders, and waited for the bus to appear. It trundled down the road a few short minutes later and disgorged a few passengers before Sam climbed on board and clambered up the stairs to the upper deck. As he settled and the bus started to pull away, for some reason he looked out the window towards Timber’s. Alice stood at the door, a cigarette dangling from her mouth, and she was unmistakeably looking right at him. She reached her hand up to her mouth, kissed it, and blew it towards him then turned and walked back into the darkness of the café, and was gone.

  Sam tried to focus on the journey but her actions had thrown him. He knew that there was no love motive in her actions, that would be a bit weird. Her actions were more of a mother kissing her son off to school for the first time. To say not to be afraid and that she was right there with him. It was a send off of comfort, of belonging, of being protected. Somehow…

  The journey took slightly longer than he was used to. Traffic coming out of Greyshott seemed to be against them and the traffic lights seemed to be red whenever they approached, but eventually they left the outskirts of the town and settled into the windy lanes of the countryside, slowly dropping down towards the coast ahead. Seeing the openness of the countryside and the thin blue line of the sea in the distance was a breath of fresh air to Sam. Sheep were scattered everywhere today and a few lambs could be seen clinging protectively to their mothers in the fields on either side of the road. “Lambing season,” he thought. The whole event was an adventure in itself and he enjoyed seeing the various areas open up to him from this lofty vantage point. Slowly the blue of the sea got closer and it did not take much longer before the bus dropped into the village of Sandhaven and stopped at the Town Hall and the last stop. Sam got out, slung his backpack expertly over one shoulder, and considered his options.

  He moved down towards the beach, seeing it slowly open up and get larger and more expansive as he approached. The beach was predominantly made up of small pebbles, washed clean by the repetitive nature of the waves. Sandhaven was not actually much of a tourist destination in this neck of the woods, but for him, for today, it was paradise on earth. He laughed freely as he walked up and down the beach kicking pebbles into the water and hearing the reassuring crunch of them beneath his feet. As was normal at these places, he could not resist trying to skim a few into the waves.

  Lunch was a hot dog and chips with plenty of tommy sauce.

  The day slowly moved into the late afternoon. A short spell at the beach gaming hut, laughing to himself as he saw his money disappear into the slot machines knowing full well that they would NOT be paying him a cent. Time then to think about where to stay that night. As he walked along the Esplanade he saw that a few people were out walking their dogs. Some of the owners having the unenviable task of stooping down to clean up after “Mr. Bubbles has done a poo poo then?” A few couples walking hand in hand enjoyed the slowly dimming twilight as the sea continued to crash its greeting to anyone interested in hearing. One old man had an easel ahead of him and he was painting a fairly good seascape of the sea and the surroundings; otherwise, things were fairly quiet.

  Up ahead, and flashing a cheap neon light, a YMCA waited. That will do, he thought, making a beeline towards the gaudy colours flashing in the skies. A spotty youth stood behind the check-in counter, chewing bubble gum and gazing down at a small monitor, boredom etched on his face as if he was born with it. “Checking in just for one night?” he managed to say to Sam, already clicking on various tabs on his keyboard in automatic expectation. “That will be £35 for the room. Breakfast is extra. Room with or without a bathroom?” Sam wanted to punch him there and then. “Bubble gum chomping youth meets early painful death in YMCA brawl!” The headlines of some imaginary tabloid newspaper rushing into his mind.

  “Yes please,” he said, over politely. “Yes, that is, for staying one night only. No, to breakfast and yes to a bathroom.” There was no way he was going to stumble down a darkened corridor in his smalls looking for a bathroom in the dead of night, thank you very much, and the thought of a cardboard breakfast at this place, given the delicious one he had had earlier, did not inspire him.

  A few clicks later and “zit kid” handed over a piece of paper to sign. Sam forged his signature. The keys quickly followed along with a, “So go along the corridor there,” pointing to the only corridor present, “call the lift and go up to the third floor. You are in room 322. Have a pleasant stay.” Sam walked off towards said lift thinking that “pleasant” would not be his first choice word for this place. Still, it is a bed for the night and no parents to get moaned at, so not bad really.

  The room was small and barren. A tiny window was at the end of the room, looking into a rear service yard, and the bathroom was off to one corner. No bath, just a plastic shower cubicle, cracked frames and a toilet and wash hand basin. Also, no towels! “I don’t care!” said Sam to no one in particular. He sat down on the bed, which was surprisingly comfortable, to decide what to do that evening. He knew that Sandhaven had a cinema further down the Esplanade and he had to admit, it had been a long time since he had seen a film. That, together with the idea of a Chinese from one of the numerous take away shops, was sufficient for him to feel his evening was well and truly sorted.

  Looking at his watch, he saw it was still too early for the films to start and he was not hungry enough yet to warrant going out just to eat something. “Perhaps I will just take a 30 minute power nap,” he thought, lying back to put his head on the pillow and staring up at the ceiling. Within a few short minutes, his body lay still, and the deep, regular breathing of someone who had fallen fast asleep could be heard from the bed. Sam’s last conscious thought was that of sensing the waves crashing onto the beach just beyond the Esplanade, then this too disappeared into the darkening ooze of sleep.

  The grinding of the rocks

  Morning broke through into his consciousness assaulting his sleep. Bright rays filtered through his eyes and he tried to roll over to at least try to get a few more minutes’ shut eye. Strangely, the waves sounded incredibly loud and very close. He became aware of an echo which reverberated around him as each wave crashed against the rocks, almost as if the water was trapped in a cave, the “swooshing” sucking noise following afterwards as the water receded again, louder than normal. Cracking noises above him, unmistakably that of rocks dislodging from a rock face and pitching down, down, bouncing on
to the rock face to eventually crash into the sea below him. “This doesn’t sound right?” he started to question, becoming more aware of the un-rightness of the situation. It was the steady breeze on his face that eventually snapped him out of his semi-sleep state. “Where is this wind coming from?” he started, thinking he was certain he hadn’t left the window open overnight, and even if he had, the breeze would not be that directed on him.

  He opened his eyes and stared out at a scene from an alien planet.

  The room had disappeared and instead, in its place, he found himself on a sandy floor of what appeared to be a cave, set back into the rock face, the opening about five metres in front of him, through which the early morning sun was streaming. Totally disorientated, he staggered up and stumbled towards the opening and gasped as the scene opened up to him. The cave in which he found himself was carved out of a near vertical rock face. A few hardy scrub trees dotted around tried desperately to cling to the fragile surface, which itself was cracked and eroded by wind and age. A few rocks from above bounced down the face crashing into projections before disappearing into an impenetrable mist bank below him, from which came the sound of those rocks slamming into the seething water of a sea and of a place definitely not in Sandhaven. Strangely enough, his first thought on seeing this rather inhibiting view was to wonder why the mist was so thick if the sun was out and shining. Sam had already grabbed the edge of the cliff face, fearful that gravity would somehow pitch him out of his precarious position and hurl him into the mist bank below him. Salt spray wafted up the rock face and made the area damp. He could feel the spray on his face and, looking down, he sensed the waves he had heard earlier as they crashed against the rocks of the cliff on which he found himself crashing loudly before sucking back into the embrace of the sea to be replaced by yet another thumping wave. This definitely was not a place he was familiar with.