by Tim O'Rourke
But I couldn’t let it consume me, however much it threatened to. I knew that my happiness at saving my friends had defeated the Elders. It had torn them apart. Could I risk letting myself sink into a pit of despair? Would doing so bring the Elders back – give them new life? Would they be reborn, suckling on my newfound pain?
Sitting up in the bath, I splashed my face with water. It washed the tears that threatened away. I couldn’t risk setting one of them free. Snatching up my iPhone from the side of the bath, I threw a towel around me and headed into my room. The bath had done little to wash away the tiredness. Perhaps after some sleep I would feel better. See things in a different light? Maybe with a clear head I might be able to start to come to terms with the decision I had made on that underground platform. Perhaps I would begin to accept that this Potter wasn’t mine, and even if he was, he had forgotten all about me as I had planned. That was the choice I had made. Turning down the music, I pulled the curtain to shut out the daylight, and crawled beneath the blankets that covered my bed.
Turning my back on the room, I curled up into a ball and closed my eyes. Although the music bleeding from the earphones was little more than background noise, I heard the song change. It was faint, at first and I didn’t recognise it. Gradually the music grew louder until the song was unmistakable. Heroes by David Bowie was now playing in my ears. With every one of my slowing heartbeats, the music grew louder and louder, until it became unbearable.
Tearing the earphones out, I sat up in bed. With my eyes wide open and gasping as if out of breath, I looked at the figure who now sat in the chair by the window.
“Hey, little sis,” Jack Seth smiled.
Chapter Five
I rubbed my eyes with my fists. When I looked again, Jack was still there but he was no longer sitting in the armchair by the window, but on a bench on some remote and deserted railway station. The music had been drowned out by a wailing sound. I glanced up. There was a sign fixed to a wooden pole that protruded from the dust-covered platform. The sun was bright in a blood red sky. “Welcome to the Great Wasteland Railroad” was written across the sign that swung back and forth in the nagging wind. Dust blew up into the air, and I covered my eyes.
Looking between my fingers, I could see that I was dressed again in my jeans, boots, and long, dark coat. Jack sat on the bench, one arm thrown across the back. He still wore the faded denim shirt and jeans. The red bandanna was still knotted about his throat, and the NY baseball cap was perched on the back of his head, the beak casting the top half of his face in shadow. The hair that stuck out from the sides of the cap was no longer wispy lengths of grey but a long, thick blond. And that wasn’t all that had changed about his physical appearance. He didn’t look as emaciated as I remembered him to be. The lines around his mouth no longer looked like deep groves; they were hardly there at all. Placing one foot in front of the other, I closed the gap between us. He didn’t move – not an inch. He just sat peering at me from beneath the beak of his cap. Reaching out, I pushed it up and back so I could look upon his face. To see it made me gasp, and I stumbled backwards. It was Jack – it was my brother – but he looked different. He looked younger. He looked no more than thirty years of age. I looked deep into his eyes, and for the first time I didn’t see him hurting me. The crazy glint was still there, but his eyes didn’t shine as bright as before.
“Are you real?” I whispered.
Standing and towering over me like he always had, he pulled me close. “Do I feel real?”
“Yes,” I said, looking up at him.
“Then that’s all that fucking matters,” he grinned down at me. “Just me and you, kid.”
“But are we really here?” I asked, needing to know if this was just a dream or something more.
“We’re both asleep in different wheres and whens from each other, but I dream about you a lot, Kiera,” Jack started to explain, curling his long fingers around mine and guiding me down onto the bench. The more I dream about you, the stronger the connection grows.”
“I saw you just a few nights ago,” I told him, remembering my own dream that I’d had about him. You were sitting and cooling your feet in a stream.”
“I wasn’t cooling my feet, I was washing the blood off,” he said.
“Blood?” I whispered. “Are you still killing?”
“Are you?” he came back, his smile thin.
I thought of the Leshy I had recently killed.
As if being able to read my mind, Jack said, “The men I killed were bad men. It was them or me, and you should know me well enough by now to know it ain’t ever gonna be me. Fuck the rest of them.”
“You might look different – younger – but you still have that mean streak,” I said.
“There ain’t nothing mean about wanting to protect the ones you love,” Jack said. “You should know that better than most, Kiera.”
Did he know what I’d done to protect the people I loved the most? I wondered. “So this is a dream?” I asked him.
“Something similar to it,” he said, pulling his baseball cap down as if protecting his eyes from the glare of the sun. I looked out across the barren land that surrounded the desolate station on all sides. The only thing I could see, other than the flat plain of arid, cracked earth, was two sets of railway tracks snaking away into the distance. They looked rusty and old and I doubted any trains had passed over them in many years.
“So if this isn’t a dream, what is it then?” I asked.
“Beats the shit out of me,” he shrugged.
“Do you think the cracks are coming back?” I asked, my heart starting to race. Had my unhappiness at losing Potter already started to tear the world apart? “Do you think we can be together like this because we’ve slipped through the cracks?”
“There are no cracks, not that I know of,” Jack said, taking the bandana from around his throat and using it to wipe away the sweat that covered his forehead. “There are no Elders in the where and when I got pushed into. There is plenty of other fucked up stuff, but no Elders.”
“How can we be like this then?” I asked, fearing that I might just wake up at any minute.
“Maybe we’re not really together at all?” he said. “Perhaps this is all just a big dream…”
“A dream that we’re both sharing in different wheres and whens,” I said, my mind trying to figure it out.
“Perhaps,” Jack said thoughtfully, re-knotting the bandana about his neck.
“Can we stay?” I asked, presuming that Jack had all the answers.
He looked at me. “You’re dead in my where and when, as I suspect I’m dead in yours.”
“How did I die?” I asked, then quickly added. “Actually, I don’t think I want to know.”
“Good, because I wasn’t gonna tell you anyway,” Jack grinned. “Besides, not only are we in different layers, they are also far apart.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I think I’m hundreds of years ahead of you,” Jack said.
“How can you be so sure?” I said, raising my hand again to shield it from a gust of sand blown up by the wind.
“Because you died a long time ago in this place,” Jack said. “There’s a statue of you…”
“A statue?” I frowned. “Why is there a statue of me?”
“You and Potter became legends,” Jack said, rubbing his whiskered chin. “Now things must have been pretty fucked up if that fuck-wit Potter became a legend. Maybe he won a prize for being the biggest nob-head in this layer…”
“Potter?” I gasped. “Potter is here?”
“He’s dead,” Jack said. “Both of you are.”
“How do you know this if it all happened many years ago?” I asked him.
“Your daughter…” Jack started.
“Daughter!” I shrieked jumping up…
Chapter Six
…in bed. The room was in semi darkness – just the weakest shaft of dawn light cut through a gap in the curtains. With my chest hitc
hing up and down and my face slick with sweat, I turned to look at the chair where Jack had been sitting. Throwing back the bed covers, I leapt from the bed and stood before the chair. Jack had gone. Had he even been there? Slowly, I reached out, placing the palm of my hand against the cushion. There was no warmth that I could feel.
“Jack?” I whispered, half expecting – hoping – that he would respond. But I knew he wouldn’t. Trying to hang on to the dream, I went to the curtains and pulled them back. The sun was rising over the fields way off in the distance. The growing light covered them in a toffee coloured glow. I had slept all day and night. Turning to my bed, I searched for my iPhone amongst the entangled sheets. I could see by how they lay in a knot at the foot of the bed that my sleep had been restless. Finding my iPhone, I snatched it up. The time on the front of it read 05:43. With it in my hand, I sat on the edge of the bed. The last shreds of the dream lingered at the corners of my mind and I held on to the last words that Jack had said. I didn’t ever want to let them go – slip through my fingers.
…Your daughter… Jack had said.
But Potter and I didn’t have a daughter. We weren’t even together in this where and when. Jack had said that it was in his past, but could it still yet happen in my future? Jack said that he was in a different layer – but perhaps he wasn’t. Maybe we were in the same layer and he was just some years ahead of me? Perhaps Potter and I were somehow going to find a way in this where and when and have a daughter. I stood up, grabbing a sheet and wrapping it about my shoulders to stop the early morning chill from peppering my body with gooseflesh. But was it an early morning draught that was making the hairs at the base of my neck stand on end, or the sudden realisation that at some point in my future, Potter and I were going to be together again – have a child – have that wedding day he had planned for us?
It was just a dream, Kiera, that sensible side of my nature spoke up. And that voice was right, it would be foolish of me to build up my hopes – to set my heart on something that might not happen – that might not be planned for me in this layer.
But Jack had been quite detailed in his explanation, I tried to reason with myself. Jack had told me that there was a statue of me – that myself and Potter had become some kind of legends. But what did we – have yet to do – for such a thing to happen? I didn’t want to be some kind of legend. I just wanted to be with Potter again and the thought that we had a future…
…it was just a dream, Kiera…
Dream or not, it had filled me with hope, something I hadn’t felt since being pushed again. And didn’t we all need hope of some kind, or what was the point? Hope for a better future gave our lives some meaning when at our lowest point. That faintest glimmer of hope had sent a warm tremor of happiness through me. And it might just be that flame of joy that will keep the Elders from rising up again. My happiness was like a poison to them. It infected them. And if what Jack said was true and Potter and I were to come together again and have a child, my happiness would be complete. It would run through the Elders’ veins like a lethal infection.
…it was just a dream Kiera…
Desperate to drown out any thoughts of doubt, I put in the earphones and switched on my iPhone. Slowly I hit the ‘Artists’ icon and searched for David Bowie. There were no tracks by him loaded onto the phone. Shaking away any growing doubts that I hadn’t heard the song Heroes last night, I selected Anything Could Happen by Ellie Goulding.
Needing to get out of my room, where the white washed walls now seemed to be closing in on me, I got dressed and left the inn. It was just after 6 a.m. As I passed through the dining area, over the sound of music bleeding into my ears, I could hear the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen as Uri prepared breakfast for his guests.
As I reached the door a shadow fell over me. Turning off the music and yanking the earphones out, I spun around.
“Going somewhere nice?” I heard a voice say.
Phebe stepped from the shadows cast by the huge fireplace. She passed amongst the tables as she dressed them with cutlery, preparing the dining area for breakfast.
“I don’t know yet,” I smiled, turning my back on her and stepping out into the dawn light. I closed the door to the inn behind me. I really wasn’t in the mood for another interrogation from Phebe about my intended plans for the rest of the day. I’m sure she meant well; she was like me, after all. But I saw little point in engaging her in nothing more than the briefest of conversations for the time being – her answers to my questions were nothing more than cryptic replies. She had told me to speak to Murphy and that’s what I intended to do.
Climbing into my car, I slipped the key into the ignition. My phone buzzed in my coat pocket and I pulled it out. I hit the message box with my thumb and it opened.
Happy birthday, Kiera! Nev. xx
At least someone had remembered. Even I had forgotten. My mind had been too preoccupied with the dream – what Jack had told me last night.
Thank you, Nev. C u tonite. KH. Xx I texted back.
Placing the phone back into my coat pocket, I drove toward the Ragged Cove. I didn’t know whether I should feel happy or not that it was my birthday. This wasn’t how I’d ever imaged I would be spending my 21st birthday. Shouldn’t I be having some kind of party? A party like my mum and dad used to throw for me when I was a kid. Together they had always made the day so special for me. Even after mum had gone missing my dad never forgot. He pushed his unhappiness aside for that day and treated me like a princess – his princess. But I didn’t want to think of him or my mother. Because if I did, I would only start to ask myself questions that I wouldn’t be able to answer unless I went searching for them. But I had done that before and that had only led me to a world of pain. If my father and mother were alive in this where and when, they were not my mother and father. No good would ever be caused by going to seek them out. My father was a good man and my mother was betrayed. However much I missed them – however much the knowledge that both were now dead hurt me – it was something I had to accept. Why should I be different from everyone else? We all lost people that we loved and no one else got a second chance to relive their lives with them. Other people were comforted by the happy memories they had of their loved ones who had passed. And in this new world, I would comfort myself with the happy memories that I had of my parents, for I knew the pain waiting for me if I dared do anything else.
But it was still my birthday, right? And everyone was meant to have fun on their birthday. I was looking forward to seeing Nev later, but before then, I was determined to treat myself. Not with presents, but by visiting the offices of The Creeping Men. I might not want to go in search of my parents in this where and when, but I did want to discover the identity of the elusive Lois Li.
Chapter Seven
I knew that with Potter away for the next few days and spending time with Sophie, the office would be deserted. There would be no chance of him creeping up on me while I investigated this time. Parking my car at the kerb, I got out and climbed the steps up to the door. Taking the key from my pocket, I eased open the door and slipped inside out of sight. With no direct sunlight streaming through the windows and the lights out, the main office was gloomy looking. I kept the lights off. I had very little difficulty in seeing in the dark.
Heading across the office, I went to the desk where Potter usually sat. I pushed aside one of his many overflowing ashtrays. His desk was littered with beige coloured files. These were the files he said that as office temp I had to sort through and file. Taking one from the pile, I thumbed through it. Each of the pages tucked inside was blank. Placing this file to one side, I picked up another. This one was empty. I took one from the middle of the pile. The sheets of paper inside this were also blank. It appeared the files were nothing more than for show. To give the appearance to anyone coming into the office that it was busy and real investigating took place here. I knew Potter never wrote anything down or made notes, but there was nothing that I could see – no records o
f any past investigations.
Turning my back on the desk and the stack of blank files, I headed across the office to a battered looking filing cabinet. On top sat a beat up looking kettle, a box of tea bags, a half full bottle of milk, and several cracked and chipped mugs. Placing my hand around the bottle, I could tell that it was warm. I pulled open the top drawer to find it was full of packs of cigarettes. Potter’s secret stash of smokes, I guessed. I closed it and opened the drawer beneath. Empty, as was the third and fourth. Closing the drawer, I headed back across the office to where I knew Murphy sat. There was an ashtray too, and this was filled with the burnt remains of pipe tobacco. Didn’t these guys do anything other than sit and smoke? I knew in my heart that was not true, but there was nothing to show that any investigations were carried out here. There were no records. No information or address for the agency that had sent me here. Apart from the packs of cigarettes and old pipe tobacco, there were no personal items either. No photographs of family. Potter said he loved Sophie and that they were going to be married, but there were no photographs of her on his desk. Did that really surprise me? No, not really. But what about Murphy? He was a little less shallow where love and romance mattered. But there were no family photos on his desk either. Was Murphy with Pen in this where and when? Were they married? Did their daughters, Meren and Nessa, exist?
Pushing my chair back from the desk, I stood up and went to the corridor that joined the main office to the cell area. The hatch sat in the centre of the floor before me. Crouching, I ran my fingertips around the edges. It was padlocked as before, and again I couldn’t see any scratches or claw marks where anyone had climbed in and out. Gripping the padlock with my fist, I leant back and tugged. It was locked tight. Without the key to it, the only way I was ever going to remove it and see what lay beneath was with a set of bolt cutters.