by Tim O'Rourke
Putting the car into gear, and then easing her foot down onto the accelerator, Annora swung the car out into the street. She followed the winding roads out of Rock Shore and headed back in the direction to where she’d seen the roadside diner. As she passed the patch of road where she’d hidden the stolen car, Annora was relieved to see that it wasn’t visible from the road. If she couldn’t see it as she drove along, then perhaps no one else would. Not for a while, at least.
It was almost full dark, so Annora switched on the headlights. And in the bright glow, she could see the silver and chrome Night Diner in the distance. It almost seemed to twinkle in the light from the headlamps as she drew closer to it. Annora brought the car to a shuddering halt outside the diner. But despite Mr. Parker’s assurances that it was a place where she would find something to eat, it appeared to be closed, just as it had been when she’d driven past earlier that day. Perhaps whoever owned the diner was running late. Perhaps it didn’t open for another half hour or so. There didn’t appear to be another place nearby where she could find food, so what little choice did she have other than to wait?
Annora climbed from the car and slumped against the bonnet, her hands thrust into her coat pockets against the cold. And as she waited, feathery flakes of snow started to drift down from the night sky. Growing impatient, Annora stepped away from the car and stepped closer to the Night Diner. And just as she’d noticed earlier that day, despite the diner looking glossy and silver, she couldn’t help but notice the weeds and brambles that grew up around the struts that supported it. Down one side there were windows, which were circular in shape like portholes. Cupping her hands around her eyes, she peered inside. It was so dark, Annora couldn’t see very much at all. As she stepped back, the door to the diner suddenly blew open.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” she asked, taking a cautious step closer to the now open doorway. Annora peered inside. “Hello?”
If there was no one inside, who had thrown open the door? But then again, perhaps it had been blown open by the wind. Although, there was very little wind that she could feel. Just the snow that continued to seesaw all around her. Annora took another tentative step forward until she was standing in the open doorway. She poked her head inside, glancing left and right. It was so dark inside, Annora could barely see anything. She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out her mobile phone, and switched on the camera light.
With it held up before her, she stepped inside the Night Diner. Annora slowly moved her hand from side to side, casting a beam of eerie white light over her surroundings. To her surprise and confusion, everything inside the diner appeared to be old and broken. It looked as if the place hadn’t been used in many years. And if that was the case, why had Mr. Parker told her she would be able to buy some dinner here? Had he lost his mind? Had it been so long since Mr. Parker had ventured this far out of town that he had no idea the Night Diner no longer served food and had fallen into disrepair?
The surface of the bar area, which ran along one wall of the diner, was splintered and blistered. The stools that stood before it were broken and bent out of shape. The red leather seats were ripped and torn, where stuffing had sprouted through in large clumps. Annora walked deeper into the diner, her boots crunching over broken glass, dust, and dirt. There was a row of booths, and just like the stools, the seats were torn, revealing the stuffing that filled them. She heard the pitter-patter of snow as it began to fall heavier outside and pelt the circular windows. It had suddenly turned very cold inside the diner, so she pulled the collar of her coat up about her neck.
As she was about to turn away, leave the diner and head back to the car, something caught her eye. What appeared to be an old jukebox was propped against the far wall at the back of the diner. The sound of broken glass and wood breaking beneath her boots continued as she made her way across the diner to the old jukebox. Holding her mobile phone up, she shone light onto the glass display. Behind the glass, she could see rows of black vinyl records. Above them there was a list of songs that could be chosen and played. There seemed to be songs dating back to the 1920s all the way through to present day. Some of the songs she’d not heard of before, but others she recognised. It was a shame that such a wonderful-looking relic was broken and out of use.
Annora turned her back, and as she did, she thought she saw a light blink on and off from the jukebox. Annora wheeled quickly around to see a red light flashing above a slot in the front of the machine, and beneath this was written 1 Token.
Reaching into her coat pocket, Annora closed her fingers around the token Mr. Parker had given to her. She took it out and looked down at it lying in the palm of her hand.
“I wonder?” she whispered to herself.
Then, without further thought, Annora dropped the token into the slot on the front of the jukebox. It made a clanking sound as the token was swallowed up by the machine. Annora wasn’t sure what exactly she was expecting, but there was a part of her that hoped that perhaps the token would somehow switch the machine on. When nothing happened, she kicked the bottom of the jukebox with her boot. It wobbled from side to side under the force of her kick. Annora heard another clanking sound. She looked down to see that the token was now sitting in a return coin slot at the bottom of the machine. Annora felt suddenly foolish for even believing that the token Mr. Parker had given her to work the electric meter would have somehow worked on the jukebox.
She plucked the token up, placing it back into her coat pocket, and as she did, the lights behind the glass display suddenly came on. The machine made a humming sound as one of the black vinyl discs began to turn slowly around. There was a row of numbers set into the front of the jukebox. Annora looked at the list of songs. She decided that she would like to hear track number twenty-three, which was, Get It On, a 1970s classic by T Rex. Still believing that the jukebox wouldn’t work and play the song, yet half hoping it would, Annora pressed the number two button followed by the number three button on the front of the machine. A button, with the word push written on it, began to flash, so Annora pushed it.
A scratchy and hissy type of sound suddenly came from the jukebox. It sounded like a needle searching for the groove in an old vinyl record. Then suddenly, to her delight, the song she had chosen started to play. The heavy beat and the thrum of the music started to grow and swell. The walls of the Night Diner started to throb and shake all around her. Annora spun around, and her heart almost stopped. Standing with her heart wedged in the back of her throat, Annora realised something had changed. And that something was the Night Diner.
Chapter Eight
The year 2067
The antiquated Beetle sped across the bleak and featureless landscape, dust and grit trailing like a cloud behind it. The sound of its whirring motors was the only noise Karl could hear. The world this far from London City seemed void of all life. Nothing seemed to grow out here, he observed. There weren’t any dwellings he could see, nor were there any trees or any other kind of plant life. The world beyond the city walls and towers looked as if it had been scorched. And as far as Karl understood, it had been. All he knew of the Third War was what he had learnt at school and been told by his parents. Back in 2018, much of the world had been consumed by political unrest and turmoil. While the humans had turned in on themselves, the supernatural creatures that had been living in secret amongst them took their chance and rose up. The Third War hadn’t been fought with bullets and weapons of mass destruction, but with fire. The vampires and werewolves, who, until 2018, had been believed to be nothing more than the stuff of fables and movies, were resistant to bullets and lethal gasses of any kind. They were resistant to such weapons because they were the undead—they were dead already. The werewolves were known as Skin-turners, as these human-looking creatures had the ability to shapeshift into giant wolves. Karl knew that if you looked hard enough, and he had, there were still images and video footage to be found on the Net of such creatures. Not all the footage had been removed by the Government. The Skin-turne
rs, when in their wolfish form, had been as big as horses, but as ferocious as lions. Karl had learnt that the vampires, also known as the Frozen-ones because their unnaturally pale skin was ice-cold to touch, were harder to find on the Net. They had avoided direct sunlight, keeping to the shadows during the day and fighting their war at night. And even in the darkness, they had moved with such blistering speed and pace that it had been almost impossible to see them. These creatures were believed to be soulless and only able to live by drinking the blood of humans. During his studies at school, Karl had learnt that small pockets of the vampires had been killed with the aid of religious artefacts like crucifixes and holy water, while the werewolves could be killed by being stabbed through the heart with silver daggers. But their number was many, and grew each day, as they turned humans into creatures like themselves with a single bite of a vampire’s fangs or a scratch of the werewolves’ claws. Within days of their first attack against the humans, the vampires and werewolves had created a vast army of their own—an army of the undead, which seemed resistant to conventional weapons. The vampires, werewolves, and their armies were simply called Night Diners, as they attacked and fed on their victims at night.
Eventually, the humans discovered that the only sure way of killing such supernatural creatures was by fire and decapitation. The scorched bodies of the supernaturals were decapitated, and those who had been decapitated first, then had their corpses set on fire. The humans hadn’t wanted to take any chances. Unfortunately, in the humans’ haste to destroy the supernatural infestation ravaging the Earth, large parts of it were scorched from above. Fire rained down in blistering waves, turning everything on the surface to little more than ash and dust. And that was the real reason Karl suspected the Government had tried to remove any trace of those supernatural creatures from the Net since the end of the Third War. They were trying to rub out the fact that, in their desire to rid the world of the plague of vampires and werewolves, the Governments of the world indiscriminately killed many humans—millions of humans—who had not been yet turned by the vampires and werewolves. However, there was another reason Karl suspected the Government wanted to remove any trace of the war from the Net: So only their version of history remained. Because the reality was, the vast majority of those innocent humans who had died had been the poor. The rich and the wealthy had had the money, means, influence, and contacts to move into the cities where great defensive walls and towers had been constructed. Karl suspected it was the poor, the uneducated, the weak, and the sick who had been left to perish on the wrong side of the city walls.
And as Karl grew older, he came to realise, like so many others did, that since the end of the Third War, the world was now even more divided than the one before. Those with wealth and power lived safely behind the walls that circled cities like London. Those who lived in the cities were no longer trying to keep out the vampires and werewolves, as they had all been destroyed in the war. Those who lived safely and in comfort behind the city walls were trying to keep out the poor. Those without money, power, and influence lived in Outposts scattered far and wide across the country. Outposts like 71, where Karl Potter was now heading.
Gripping the joystick and keeping his car on a straight path, Karl glanced through the windscreen as rain began to splash against it. A strong wind picked up as it howled across the flat landscape and battered his car. Karl reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand and fished out his mobile comlink. With a tap of his thumb against the screen, he brought up the map that Sergeant O’Neil had pre-programmed into it. He could see that he was only a few miles away from Outpost 71. The map on the screen began to flicker, then disappeared altogether as if the connection had been lost. Karl had heard that maintaining a strong connection to the Net in such remote postings hadn’t been a Government priority, although he had never had a problem connecting to the Net in the city. Feeling as if he was gradually being cut off from the rest of the world, Karl tucked the mobile comlink back into his jacket pocket. Rain continued to beat off the car as the wipers raced back and forth across the windscreen.
Sitting forward in his seat and gripping the joystick, Karl sped toward the outpost. He had suspected that the outpost would be remote, but he only truly came to appreciate how cut off it seemed from the rest of the world as he navigated his beat-up old car between a dark and winding valley and out onto a vast flat plain that was surrounded on all sides by black jagged mountains, their peaks flecked white with snow. In the distance, at the foot of the mountain range, he could see lights twinkling in the darkness. He passed a neon sign that floated in the air space just above the flat and cracked ground. The lights that spelt out the words, Welcome to Outpost 71, flickered on and off in the dark. Sparks fizzed and spat from it. In the flickering light, Karl noticed that there had once been other words written on the sign. Words that had long since faded. These older words had once read, Welcome to Rock Shore.
Chapter Nine
The year 1973…
Annora was no longer looking out across some diner that had fallen into disrepair, but out across some kind of bar. The Night Diner, if that’s what it still was, was packed with people who were drinking, smoking, and dancing. The song she had chosen was now louder and blasting through speakers, which stood in front of a long-haired DJ behind a turntable on the opposite side of the bar. And although much of her new surroundings were in darkness, lights pulsated and flashed overhead. It wasn’t just the bar that Annora now found herself in that startled her, but those people ordering food and drinks at the bar and who were gyrating on the dance floor. Their clothes looked kind of old-fashioned—like clothes that would have been worn in the 1970s. The men and women wore flared trousers and shirts with collars that were as wide as wings. Annora glanced down at herself and gasped. She was now dressed in a similar fashion. Annora was no longer wearing jeans, scruffy brown boots, and a coat, but black leather boots that came to the knee, a short, flared skirt which stopped mid-thigh, and a shirt that was covered in the most garish flowery pattern.
“Hello?” she shouted over the roar of the music. “What’s happening here? Where did you all come from? Where am I?”
The people who filled the bar could neither hear her nor see her, or they were just simply ignoring her and pretending she wasn’t there. And as Annora looked around, she realised that she was no longer holding her mobile phone in her hand, but a bottle of beer.
“Who’s taken my phone?” she shouted over the loud music. “Where’s it gone? Give it back right now!”
Annora didn’t know exactly who she was talking to. She turned around and around on the spot, just wanting someone to answer her—someone to explain what the hell was going on.
“Are you okay?” somebody said in her ear over the continuous thud of music.
Annora spun around on the spot, and for the second time in a matter of minutes, she was lost for words. The guy who had spoken to her was insanely gorgeous. His hair was dark, long, and combed back into something close to an untidy quiff. His face was finely chiselled, with a square jawline. His eyes were dark, and he wore a black leather jacket and jeans. He was twenty-something.
“Are you okay?” he asked her again.
“Where am I?” Perhaps Annora should have asked, When am I?
“Are you drunk?” he asked, a kissable smile widening across his face.
“No, I’m not drunk.” Annora scowled at him. “I just want to know where I am.”
Still smiling, he said, “You’re at the Night Diner.”
“I know that, but…” She trailed off. But what? How was it possible that only minutes ago, she had been standing in some dilapidated diner at the side of some remote country road, yet here she now was in the middle of some bar, wearing clothes that looked like they had come straight out of the 70s and in the company of the hottest guy she’d ever seen. Annora wanted to ask him what year it was, but she feared that if she asked such a thing, he would definitely think she’d had too much to drink.
&nb
sp; Then, as if in answer to her own question, the DJ hollered through the speakers, “Welcome to Christmas, 1973.”
Those crowded in the bar and those dancing on the dance floor cheered and whistled as the DJ started to play, Merry Christmas Everyone by Slade.
“Are you okay?” the guy asked her again.
Annora turned her attention back to him. She put the bottle of beer she was holding down onto the bar. “Why do you keep asking me that?” she said, more angrily than perhaps she had intended.
“It’s just that you look kinda lost, kinda confused,” he said.
Annora felt more than a little confused and lost. She thought she’d lost her freaking mind.
“So what’s your name, pretty lady?” he asked her.
“Annora,” she said over the roar of music, and those who were singing along to Slade as they jostled and swayed drunkenly on the dance floor. “Annora Snow.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Annora Snow,” the guy said, suddenly taking her by the hand and leading her away.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” she asked, trying to yank her hand free. “Where are you taking me?”
“For a dance,” he said as they reached the dance floor. He wrapped his arms about her waist, pulling her close.
“I can’t,” she said, trying not too hard to pull away. “I need to get back…”
“To where?” he asked, leaning in close, the tips of their noses touching, lips just an inch apart.
And where was she so desperate to get back to? To Mr. Parker and his rickety house? Her past, that she was trying to run from? Wasn’t she looking for some adventure and excitement in her life? Hadn’t she wanted to shake off her old self and become a little more daring? A little sexier? And if she was looking for that, she doubted she would find a sexier man than the one who was now holding her in his arms.