Out of Time (The Adventures of Eric and Ursula Book 4)

by A. D. Winch

  "Andrea has been asked to speak by Eric," said Mémé and beckoned her to step forward.

  "I have been asked to explain in one to two minutes how I met the parents of Eric Meyer. Alexander assisted me in this task," began Andrea, at a volume that was marginally too loud for a solemn occasion. "The Meyer Foundation never met Professor Ingrid Larsen. She applied to the Foundation for grants to complete her work in robotics and cybernetics. She also received assistance in material research and procuring materials that were not widely available on Earth. The Meyer Foundation never knew the full extent to which Professor Larsen succeeded.

  "They gave twelve grants to the European Space Station. These were given under the condition that Professor Larsen be allowed to travel into space. Before Professor Larsen left the Earth, I visited Martin Meyer and Maria Torre at their home in Paris. I collected samples from them and other people. Professor Larsen had instructed me to do this to assist in her work to create test-tube babies. The Meyer Foundation funded this. If the research was successful, they were to rear one of the children. Maria Torre had requested a Saharo-tropical African, female child.

  "When I collected the child in Romania its gender and colour were wrong. I took it to Martin Meyer and Maria Torre. Martin was excited and named it Erik after his father. Maria Torre disagreed. She changed the spelling to Eric, as in Erica. She was disappointed.

  "The infant Eric began to cry. Maria Torre was holding him. A look that I interpreted as panic appeared on her face. Martin Meyer told her to 'make it quiet' but she held the child far away from her. I established that neither of them had any experience of child care.

  "Professor Larsen had always given me instructions but she was now deceased. In the event of her death, I had been instructed to protect the child. I told this to Martin Meyer and Maria Torre. My words excited the adoptive parents. They welcomed me, and I became a nanny to Eric.

  "While Eric slept last night, I spoke to Madame Benjamin. She told me to explain how Martin Meyer and Maria Torre loved him. I do not understand the concept of love. I do not understand the concept of parental love. According to my searches, parental love is defined by – nurturing, giving affection, setting limits consistently, showing respect, encouraging and supporting.

  "Martin Meyer and Maria Torre were incapable of nurturing a child by themselves. They made the logical decision to seek assistance and use me. They provided nurture in a manner in which they were equipped.

  "I witnessed kissing and physical signs of emotion between Eric and his adoptive parents. Eric had rules that he had to obey. Eric and his adoptive parents were mostly respectful towards each other. His adoptive parents encouraged him to try new things. They did not consider the financial cost of raising a child. They supported Eric from afar. In conclusion, they demonstrated love for Eric, but I am not able to quantify this statement. That is two minutes and thirty-one seconds. I will finish."

  Eric fought back the tears.

  "I am not going to cry," he told himself silently. "I am not going to cry."

  "Eric, it is your time to say your farewells," Mémé encouraged.

  Eric did not hear Mémé. He was looking at his feet through eyes awash with tears, and his nose was beginning to run.

  "I am not going to cry," he told himself silently again. "I am not going to cry."

  His throat and neck were hurting as he fought to keep the floodgates shut. Fingers slipped into his, and he realised Mémé was standing beside him. She gripped his hand tightly, and he wrapped his fingers around hers.

  "It's time to say goodbye, Eric," she said quietly.

  A tear escaped from the corner of his right eye and slid down his cheek. It itched his skin, and he wanted to scratch it away. His nose tickled as it ran, but he left it. His throat was filling up, and he struggled to swallow.

  "Take your time, mon cheri," and she placed a tissue into his free hand. "We will wait for as long as you need."

  Waves lapped against the cliffs below, and a seagull squawked high above their heads. Eric wiped his eyes, blew his nose and managed to swallow. He raised his head and stood tall, looking out to sea. On the horizon, he pictured his parents sat on their yacht drinking a fine wine and eating dinner. He could see them clearly, looking up at him as they sipped from their expensive designer glasses.

  "I'm sorry," Eric began. His voice cracked as he spoke, but he did not falter. "I'm sorry that you were murdered because of me. I'm sorry if I was ever a disappointment to you. I'm sorry about my temper. I'm sorry if I let you down. I'm sorry if I was ungrateful. I'm sorry that I didn't love you as much as I should have while you were alive.

  "I always wanted to be like you. I wanted to be the best in the world, like you. I wanted you to be with me always," his voice broke, and he swallowed before continuing. "I want you here now."

  Tears were dripping off his chin and onto his feet. He stared at his parents' yacht on the horizon and whispered, "I love you." The yacht slowly faded away, and he added, "Goodbye."

  It was all too much. Eric began breathing like an asthmatic; he was losing the fight with his emotions. As he felt his body shaking, he spun around and ran away from the clearing. He only went a few metres and then collapsed behind a tree.

  He didn't remember Mémé taking him in his arms. He didn't remember being held by her. He didn't remember clinging to her as he sobbed uncontrollably. And he didn't remember how long he stayed there.

  When he finally peeled himself from her, he felt lighter and more at peace. He looked at Mémé's dress. It was soaked from where his head had been and covered in his saliva and snot.

  "I'm sorry," he said quietly and laughed nervously.

  "You've no need to apologise to me, Eric Meyer. If you hadn't cried then I would have made you apologise."

  It was cool under the trees, and Eric had no desire to move. He felt he had made a fool of himself in front of everyone and was too embarrassed to face them again.

  Mémé took another tissue and wiped Eric's face until it was clean. She made him stand and walked hand in hand with him back through the trees. The others were sat near to the cliff face looking out to sea. When they heard footsteps approaching, they stood up. Mémé walked Eric towards them and let go.

  Jerome stepped towards him. He put his arms around Eric's and patted him on the back. "Well done," he whispered in Eric's ear. "It is not easy to do what you have done today."

  Johan walked up to him and shook his hand. "I am sorry for your loss, Eric, and proud to say you are my friend."

  Alexander followed, punched Eric lightly on the shoulder and turned away from him before he started to cry too. All he could think about was his mother's untimely death, and he was struggling to contain his emotions.

  Ursula gave Eric a big hug and told him that he was brave.

  Only Andrea did not move. She was standing near to the cliff edge looking at the small crowd. As, Eric walked up to her; she turned to look out to sea. They stood shoulder to shoulder above the ocean.

  "Thank you, Andrea," he said.

  "I did what you asked. Was it sufficient?" she said matter-of-factly.

  Eric nodded.

  "Do you feel better, Eric?"

  "Yes, I do."

  Neither of them knew what to say next and stared out towards the horizon.

  "What are your plans now?" Andrea asked.

  "To live," Eric replied assertively.

  "Come on you two," called Granddad Benjamin. "We've got a chess tournament to continue. Tonight is the night I give Eric Meyer a good thrashing."

  "I'd like to see you try," he shouted back warmly.

  Eric and Andrea rejoined the group, and all of them walked back to the village feeling happier than on the way there.

  Back to Contents

  ***

  Chapter 6 – More Questions than Answers

  The September sun shone down on the beach, but it had lost its intensity. It was no longer necessary to sit all day under a parasol or stay in the shade or to cool
down in the sea. The sun was still warm, but the rays no longer fried tourists' skin, and the sand no longer burnt the soles of their feet. The temperature was pleasant and, in Granddad Benjamin's opinion, perfect. Except for one worrying thought, he was utterly content. He gazed up at the clear sky and smiled to himself.

  You can never predict what will happen in life, he thought, looking at the picturesque bay around him. Who would have guessed that I would spend my summer here?

  There were fewer holidaymakers than in August, and it was possible to walk along the beach without having to weave in and out of sunbathers or sandcastles. Out at sea, the waves were a little larger, and there were fewer people amongst them. Those in the water were swimming to keep warm rather than playing or lounging on lilos.

  Granddad Benjamin stood up, and Mémé eyed him briefly from her deckchair before continuing with her knitting.

  "You may try to hide it, Jerome Benjamin, but you worry about those children as much as I do, if not more," Mémé told him.

  Granddad Benjamin smiled, and his face lit up. He leant forward and planted a big kiss on Mémé's lips.

  "And I may try to hide it, but I love you."

  Mémé blushed and said, "Don't try and change the subject."

  "When would I try and change the subject?"

  Before Mémé could answer, Granddad Benjamin shuffled down the beach to the water's edge. Waves lapped against his feet, and he walked until they were up to his knees. He stopped and looked out at the azure sea. Somewhere, out there, were Eric and Ursula.

  After breakfast that morning, he had challenged the children to swim around the island and back. They had both agreed enthusiastically, but he thought they would have returned by now.

  For a terrible second, he wondered would happen if they never came back. Losing Ursula would break his heart, and a light in his life would be extinguished forever. He knew that this was selfish. Even though he had known Eric for a much shorter period, it would still hurt too. In spite of all the trials Eric had endured, the boy never mentioned them and was good company. Granddad Benjamin liked him a lot and felt that Eric deserved some happiness after all he had been through.

  The sun glinted off a wave near to the island, and a movement attracted Granddad Benjamin's attention. He put his hand to his forehead and strained his eyes. He could just make out two shapes moving around the tip. He felt a small sense of relief and watched as they swam towards the shore. They had both become excellent swimmers since staying by the sea, and he had joked on numerous occasions that they were turning into fish.

  At the end of the month, they would all be leaving Parga. It was felt that to stay outside of the summer season would look too suspicious. For the Benjamins, it was the best summer they had ever had, and everyone else seemed to enjoy themselves too. The holiday was just what everyone needed, but Granddad Benjamin feared that it would be the last holiday they would have together. If a cure could not be found, then they would lose the children. If they were caught by the OSS, they would lose them to a far worse fate.

  The children approached the beach, and Granddad Benjamin watched closely. Their arms arched quickly over their heads and pulled them forward as their legs kicked like motors. Their strokes were strong, and it looked as if they were sliding effortlessly through the waves. Water sprayed up around their heads, but occasionally he could see their faces and he was sure they were smiling. He was pleased that they were happy.

  In spite of the cloud on their horizon, the children had not let it overshadow their stay together. This had rubbed off on the adults. The children's future was uncertain, but Granddad Benjamin was pleased that they were living for the moment. He could not deny that he was worried about what might happen to them, but deep down he believed that they had the abilities to overcome whatever was thrown their way.

  Ursula came out of the sea first. Her yellow bikini clung to her thin body, but Granddad Benjamin noticed that her shape was changing. As well as developing curves, she also had muscles like a long-distance runner. Eric floated in the water for a bit and then followed her. His muscles were more pronounced, and it was clear that he was on the way to becoming a man.

  "How was it?" Granddad Benjamin asked.

  "Great," replied Ursula. "Apart from Eric cheating."

  "How could I cheat?" laughed Eric, "It wasn't a race."

  "Everything is a competition to you," Ursula told him. "Whether you say so or not!"

  Eric lifted his hands and feigned a look of hurt; Ursula pushed him back into the water. There was a big splash, and he disappeared from view. Ursula stepped towards her grandfather.

  "Boys," she said, without expecting a response.

  Granddad Benjamin just nodded. He saw Eric swimming under the water towards Ursula but chose not to mention it. Eric's hand brushed against Ursula's ankle. She screamed childishly and ran back up the beach towards Mémé.

  Eric emerged from under the waves and sat in the salty water with a broad grin.

  "Girls," he said.

  Granddad Benjamin offered Eric his hand and helped him out of the sea.

  Alexander, Andrea and Johan were sat around a laptop in the hotel garden. The vines above their heads provided shade and enabled them to read what was on the screen. Johan was navigating through the files he had saved on his flash drive.

  Alexander looked across at his father and tried to understand his feelings towards the old man. After a summer spent together, they were no closer than when they had first met in Spain. Their attitudes towards life were so different that it was difficult to find common ground. The only times they came together were occasions like now.

  "As I told you before, we called them 'Identical Hybrid Beings.' They will be similar to what the rest of the world now call 'clones,' but they will have elements of human and alien DNA. For this reason, we used the word 'hybrid.' There are research facilities in Iceland, Australia, Alaska, Diego Garcia and Roswell also. Each of these facilities has been sent samples taken from Eric, but I know that none of them has discovered a way to store them without degrading."

  Alexander asked, "Do you have plans for these sites? Information that may help us."

  "Yes. I believe I can find a way into each of them, but what will we do when we get there?"

  "It is simple," said Andrea. "We must prevent them from creating Identical Hybrid Beings. The samples that have been taken from Eric will degrade by themselves. It is probable that this has already happened. Our task will be to emulate Professor Larsen and destroy the IHB research. However, it is improbable that this will bring it completely to an end. It is more likely that any actions will slow the process. We must consider that if the samples do degrade, and we are successful in delaying any future research then there will be consequences. It is more likely that the OSS will step up their search for Eric and Ursula."

  "Then what do we do?" Alexander asked exasperated. "If we stop the OSS research into IHBs then we put the children in further danger. If we don't stop the research then we put the future of humanity in danger!"

  "'Put humanity in danger!' That is too dramatic," Johan smirked. "There are over seven billion people on the planet. They won't all be replaced overnight."

  "But you said yourself, we can't let this happen!" Alexander's voice was rising. "Nor can we allow Eric and Ursula to be placed in danger. Even if we choose to go after the research facilities, Eric was right when he said we can't attack all of them. What do you think, Andrea?"

  "I am the guardian of Eric. I must protect him. I will not put him in danger unless it will ultimately help him."

  "So, are you saying that we do not attack these facilities?"

  "It will conflict with my role as the guardian of Eric."

  "What do you think, Johan?" Alexander was not comfortable calling his father, 'Dad,' and Johan was not comfortable being called it.

  "I think the OSS research must not be allowed to continue."

  Alexander was biting his nails angrily. He stopped to say, "We are
going round in circles, and nothing is certain. We don't know if the OSS will succeed in making IHBs. We don't know if humans are in danger if they do. We don't know if the OSS will come after the children if they fail. We don't know if the data that Johan copied will protect the children. We just don't know," Alexander took a breath. "Do you mind if I do my own investigations into these facilities? Something may come to me."

  "Please," said Johan and motioned Alexander to use the computer.

  Alexander placed a small pad and a snapped black pencil next to the laptop. Johan picked it up and studied it strangely intently.

  "It's a pencil!" Alexander said sharply.

  His tone was ignored, and Johan asked, "Where did you get it?"

  "Er, I don't know. Why?"

  "I have only seen these type of pencils in one place before."

  "Really. Where's that?"

  "At Roswell. On the base. Are you sure you didn't get it there?" Johan joked.

  "Yes, I'm…" Suddenly Alexander remembered. "I know now. It dropped out of the tube when I found mother's papers on Andrea, in Lepley. I must have collected it back up again."

  "Curious."

  "It's a pencil. Nothing more, nothing less."

  "No, it's not. It's a broken pencil."

  "And?"

  "Firstly, why did Ingrid feel the need to keep a broken pencil? Second, I used pencils like these when I went back to work at Roswell. At one point, I lost control of my emotions and threw one at the dart. The pencil broke, but I only found one-half of it."

  "There are probably millions of black pencils on the planet. How does a pencil that you broke go from America to being buried in Russia? It is ludicrous and nothing more than a coincidence."

  "I was under the impression that you do not believe in coincidences, Alexander. If you look on one side of the pencil, you'll see that the black coating has been scraped away. When you are deep in thought, you bite your nails. When I am deep in thought, I sometimes scratch at the pencil or pen that I am holding. Is this a coincidence too? I wonder however it got to Russia?" Johan asked, stifling a yawn.