A Survivor's Guide to Eternity

by Pete Lockett

  A long considered silence ensued, Thomas not sure what he could say to comfort the individual as they continued their hike. It was Ed that broke the hush some two or three minutes later.

  “Anyway, what language does everyone speak down here? Is it all English? Do they all have a ‘Tudor bent’ like you?”

  “Not at all. English is the most common, but we have every language you can imagine here. It can be more than strange at first if we cannot communicate, but we usually muddle by or have someone translate. Having said that, we have so much time on our hands, many become multi-lingual. Forsooth, I thought I had already lost my ‘Tudor bent’, as you call it.”

  “Same with Transients out there as well I guess, speaking the language they did when they were alive?”

  “Exactly. T’is why you were fortunate indeed to meet an English speaker on your first encounter.”

  “You’re right there, Thomas.”

  “If you do decide to continue your journey, Ed, I would suggest you try and take your time at certain destinations. Take rest and sleep for a few days if you’re somewhere safe. You are at the beginning now but after a while, Transients really need to take stock.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind, Thomas, thanks,” replied Ed, as they continued on their way. Ed began to reflect on what chance he might have to get his old life back. All these stories and far-fetched goings-on could easily be a dream, albeit a very nasty and realistic one. Maybe he’d had an accident and was in a coma in hospital, waiting for his brain power to propel him back to consciousness.

  His mind churned away exhaustively at different scenarios. Tiredness was beginning to get the better of him and his walking had become heavy and weary. The whole episode had worn him down, being pulled from the flow with the crook and then all the journeying back and forth in the tunnels whilst being bombarded by unbelievable revelations. Ed knew he needed to sleep and gather his psychological powers to grasp the situation and get a little more empowered. Thomas was aware of Ed’s state and slowed his pace accordingly.

  Some while later they arrived back at the cave-like pod.

  “You can tell me something more of yourself on the morrow, Ed. You must be tired now and t’would be good for you to rest.”

  “Thanks. See you tomorrow,” replied Ed as he handed the football helmet to Thomas and brushed past the curtain into the enclosure. He removed his jacket and jeans, perched down onto the edge of spongy bed, flicked off his shoes and laid down, exhausted. If every day was going to be like the last few then he was in for a very eventful time.

  Chapter 7

  Hotline back to the living

  “Are you decent?”

  “Are you decent?”

  “Are you decent?”

  The voice started to penetrate Ed’s consciousness.

  That was one fantastic night’s sleep, he thought as he pulled the thin black silky sheet from over him and reached down to get his jeans, just as Thomas entered the space.

  “Oops! I beg pardon, I mean to cause no offence, but you have not yet donned your trousers.”

  “Don’t worry, I will have soon,” replied Ed as he pulled them on awkwardly, still sitting on the bed. He leant a little further forward, grabbed his shoes and put them on hurriedly.

  “It does cause me much mirth – we are the only creatures bar mankind that do garb ourselves, even after we are dead,” exclaimed Thomas as he pulled his oversized hat from his head to reveal his scraggly reddish hair.

  “Whatever. That hair’s timeless as well. If you have any scissors, I can trim it for you.”

  “Leave thy jesting. T’is little point. Cut it off and it returns exactly as it was on your last day. T’is same with fingernails and all else that once grew from our noble bodies. T’is convenient indeed and might have been a good idea when we were alive, would you not agree, Ed?” bemoaned Thomas, as he came and sat on the adjacent stool.

  “Well it would certainly have saved on hairdressing bills,” replied Ed with a smirk.

  “Another thing, when I mentioned bodily functions yesterday, that includes intimate relations. Nought doing down below. No rumblings in the pantaloons or frolicking with Anne Boleyn. Shame, for she is comely forsooth, beauteous beyond compare.”

  “You are always the bringer of brightness, light and sensitivity into my world. Saves me thirty minutes trying to get a Roger on to sort myself out anyway.”

  “Is that how long it took you to become aroused?”

  “Of course not, I’m being ironic, understated, and disingenuous. I was like a god in bed.”

  “Did you listen to prayers all night then?” replied Thomas with a smirk.

  “Shall we talk about something useful?” said Ed, as he glanced at his watch.

  “Is it working?”

  “What?”

  “The timepiece, is it working?”

  “Strangely, yes, but how would I know if it’s the right time?”

  “The right time; who cares? There’s little concern for time in here, no mealtimes or workplace, no jousting, bear baiting or mead making. T’is no ‘right time’ as such that your clock can display. If it functions though, you can accurately tell when your four-day limit is due from the moment you arrive. Of course, you have not the benefit of such a timepiece when you are transient in an animal, but you could refer to wall clocks, church bells or the turns of day and night to guide you.”

  “That’s true. Anyway, I’ve decided I’ll leave shortly, try and get back into the flow and move on. I’ll take the risk.”

  “I understand. T’is no surprise to me. People rarely stay on their maiden visit. It’s only on the second or third times that the tranquillity becomes seductive. Not many people are given those second and third chances though.”

  “I hear what you say but I’ll try my luck. I like you, Thomas but I’ll get bored here with nothing to do.”

  “Tis not a problem. We will take you to where you need to be, and you will be ready to jump not long from now. There’s one other thing we need to discuss though.”

  “What’s that then?”

  “Do you recall I mentioned before that you had several choices?”

  “Yes, go on,” Ed replied, enquiringly.

  “T’is but rumour in truth. A long, long way down the tunnels, far away from here, t’is said an ancient Viking resides, that has been there for centuries. He is, so they say, a man of great veritable wisdom, and knows of some much more dangerous, but potentially rewarding transient streams.”

  “Rewarding? How?” replied Ed inquisitively.

  “From what I have been led to understand, he can influence where you arrive on each transience.”

  “What, the location?”

  “Not just that, apparently the time or even what animal you become.”

  “Really?”

  “Honestly, I know not for certain, t’is rumour from people travelling through.”

  “Well, if it’s true that I’m dead and this isn’t a dream, could he transport me back in time for me to change events? Maybe I could…..” Ed was sharply interrupted.

  “You have big ambitions, even in death. Be careful for what you wish. Tampering with the design of things is not our place. Much has been rumoured and exaggerated. I would suggest you accept your fate a little more humbly.”

  “Shouldn’t we at least try and find out the truth, Thomas, to see what potential choices we have, and make our decisions based on that? If there’s a way I can get back and at least see what happened and what mistakes I made, that might help me in this environment. It couldn’t change the fact that I’m caught in this transient cycle and will continue to go round and round, one way or another,” enquired Ed.

  “T’is true.”

  “Well let’s go and see him then.”

  “It is not so easy. It takes between two and three days to get there. That’s why your timepiece will be most useful. Then, if he can be persuaded to share his information, we do not know how long it would take to get from ther
e to the other streams - if they even exist. T’is a big befuddle. If they did not, then you would lose your chance to jump, as it would be past the four-day point of no return. He is also, so I hear, very fussy about first-time Transients. He prefers to be consulted only by the experienced, apparently.”

  “Oh. That’s a conundrum.”

  “Tis my wise observation to suggest it is too late to embark on this journey now. My feeling is that you should risk another transience and see if you can perhaps be paused in the next jump back. Apparently, t’is possible: if you concentrate really hard at the time of death, you can partially cause a pause. I know not if this be true, but it will be something to bear in mind.”

  Ed sat thoughtfully listening to Thomas, who continued.

  “Another thing is that if you are paused and rescued, it is very likely you would not find yourself in this community. You may end up further along in a different community which might not have access to the area where the Viking lives. Maybe there would not be any speakers of English there. Tis a ‘conundrum’ as you call it.”

  “At least I have my watch to identify a timeframe. Lucky I had that on.”

  “Well there is always something positive in death,” joked Thomas as he departed into the tunnel.

  “I will return in an hour or so. Then we will awake you for your jump.”

  “Okay. See you then, and thanks again for all your help.”

  Ed lay back down on the bed, discarding the silk sheet beside him. The silence was beautiful, crystal and pure, perfect and impenetrable. It gave such a marvellous platform for calm thoughts. He reflected on the past few days: Sam, the tortoise experiences, Thomas and the whole array of totally psychologically shocking things that had been revealed to him. He was somewhat surprised at how rational he had remained and how well he had adjusted to the fast changing situation. It was not an easy time and it really called for a calm head.

  Soon a mumbling in the doorway pierced the silence. He couldn’t make it out but sat up and shouted, “Come in, come in,” expecting there to be a curious guest outside.

  “Oh, hi, hello, hi. My name is George, George, ehm, George George,” exclaimed a nervous looking small man dressed in a cord dressing gown and tweed slippers. His thinning hair was heavily greased back over his head, desperate to hide a barren scalp. Thin matted yarns stuck steadfastly to the skin, revealing open patches of baldness underneath. Apart from that, he was clean-shaven, neat and tidy and Ed guessed him to be in his early fifties.

  “George, or George George?” enquired Ed.

  “George George I’m afraid. Very cruel of my parents,” explained George, as he ventured into the room.

  “I think it is pretty unique. I like it,” said Ed reassuringly before adding, “I’m Ed, Ed Trew. It’s good to be talking normally without all that ‘Thou behest my Lord, for thou art the angel of perplexity’ stuff.”

  “Pardon? Oh, you mean Thomas? Can take a bit of getting used to but he’s a sweet fella, don’t you think?” replied George as they shook hands before Ed moved back on the bed and sat cross-legged.

  “Yes, he’s lovely. I didn’t mean anything nasty. I really meant to say I was glad to see you’re a more modern guy, with a more common tongue, George.”

  “Common?” queried George as he perched delicately on the small stool opposite the bed.

  “Common as in, ‘in common’, not common as in ‘commoner’ or common as ‘in or on Clapham Common.’”

  “Oh, I see. Anyway, being a commoner ain’t so bad.”

  “I know, I certainly am not landed gentry but I really didn’t mean ‘common’ in that sense.”

  “It’s not a problem. Anyway, in answer to your question, I’m indeed a little more recent than Thomas. Popped my clogs in the late eighties. Slipped up in the kitchen in the middle of the night and hit my head on the stove. I should have turned the light on really. There are a lot more stupid ways to die though I suppose.”

  “Yes, but they all end in death.”

  “They certainly do. Anyway, I’m going to help you with Thomas. We’ll see you get off safely. It’s easy really, nothing much to worry about.”

  “Thanks, George.”

  “Not a problem. I’ve never jumped myself but I understand it usually goes fine, apart from, well, you know, the ones that fall all the way through the stream and get stuck out of reach of anyone who can help them from the doorways. That very rarely happens though.”

  “Yes, Thomas told me about that.”

  “I understand he told you about the Viking as well?”

  “Yes, indeed. I’m interested in that. I want to do a couple more trips and then try to hunt him down if I can get paused again. Looks like I have time on my side for that anyway.”

  “You certainly do and there’s a lot to find out. I don’t know if you realise yet, but in an animal transience you pretty much always end up somewhere within the locality of your death.”

  “Well I didn’t know that.”

  “Well take it as a fact. You do. However, time is flowing forward at about the same rate as we experienced on earth, so with each transience, you are four days further on from when you died, or if your transience was shorter, then an approximate equivalent.”

  “Really? Carry on,” uttered Ed, as he uncrossed his legs and moved to the front of the bed with his feet down on the floor.

  “Yes, yes. Anyway, as I understand it, the Viking knows of tunnels which present different options.”

  “What sorts of options?”

  “Well it’s very dangerous apparently, but time options, changing the time periods, even going backwards through time.”

  “Backwards? As if it’s not complicated enough already, being propelled from animal to animal like a bouncing ball. I asked Thomas about that but he seemed a little reluctant, even scared to dabble with things. It would really be good to have some control over the transience destinations. Maybe I could go back, who knows, maybe even influence what happened and change things for the better. Are you sure all this gossip is true?”

  “I don’t know. Anyway, that’s there as a possible choice. I don’t know what you want, but there are alternatives. Everyone needs to know that when they come here.”

  “Okay. Thanks, George,” exclaimed Ed, as Thomas returned to the room.

  “Ah, t’is but a man hard to locate. I was looking for you,” said Thomas, gazing over at George.

  “Good to see you’ve met Ed, anyway. We should get going. The flow is stronger at the moment, so that gives you a better chance of a successful transience.”

  “Why’s it stronger now?”

  “Not sure really, it just is. Maybe the amount of soul traffic in there. If there are more people in transit then maybe it’s slower. It seems to have a few days every now and then when it’s stronger.”

  “One thing puzzles me, Thomas. You mention ‘days’ but there are no clocks or hours of daylight to judge the exact time. How do you do it?” asked Ed inquisitively.

  “It’s guess work really. We have a rough idea of what a twenty-four hour period feels like and we all seem to naturally sleep twice in that period, albeit at different times. It’s these sleep patterns that we go on.”

  “Oh! Pretty vague then?”

  “Tis indeed,” replied Thomas.

  With this the three of them left the small room, Thomas followed by George and then Ed. He glanced around and looked back at the room for one final time, before skipping to catch up with the other two heading down the tunnel.

  “Well at least I don’t need to take suitcases with me and check them in. No security to go through or passport to forget. Not even any spare underwear. It redefines ‘travelling light’,” Ed mused, as he caught them up.

  “We didn’t have suitcases back in the Tudor days. T’is a most excellent notion though,” replied Thomas, as they reached the intersection and turned down towards the opening.

  “All these tunnels and intersections and sleeping rooms, they must have been design
ed and built by someone. It can’t all be by chance, don’t you think, guys?”

  “It’s a conversation we’ve had many times, Ed,” replied George before continuing, “The stairwell we’re going to now is rumoured to have been carved out by the Viking but we can’t see how it could have been possible. The rock’s so hard that he’d have needed proper tools. The tunnels and all that’s linked to them does on the surface seem to be of human design, but we really have no way to verify it.”

  “Mystery upon mystery eh,” replied Ed, noticing the tunnels were getting a little gusty.

  “It sounds a bit more fearsome today,” remarked George as he paused to tie his shoelace.

  “T’is indeed,” replied Thomas before adding, “T’is a good day to turn and step into the tunnel.”

  Ed also began to notice the strong breeze that weaved through the tunnels, dancing across his face with a very slight chill. The small beams of light seemed slightly more sinister than the day before and Ed started to feel nerves in the depth of his stomach as if there was a very tiny spin-dryer on the go. He marvelled again at the black sand, mesmerised by the disappearance of the footprints behind them. The breeze increased in power as they grew closer to their destination, making the whole scene even more menacing. The fears of jumping began to eat away at Ed but he knew he had no choice if he was to continue his quest and find a possible solution for his predicament.

  They walked further through the tunnels and over to the opening where the firm sand gave way to an uneven rocky floor. Their pace slowed and they tiptoed delicately for the last few yards, the wind positively howling through the entrance, giving off a low resonant tone. All three stared in at the all-encompassing flow, mesmerised by its power. Thomas stepped back and pointed Ed towards a smaller opening to his right which led to a claustrophobic hand-cut stairway.

  “You need to go up there. George will go with you and give you a helping push if you lose your nerve. I will keep watch from here with the crook just in case it goes wrong and you drift over to this side out of the main flow. T’is unlikely though because the force would take you all the way through the flow to the bottom,” stated Thomas, as George put his arm around Ed’s shoulder and led him over to the opening. Ed was more than concerned that this might go horribly wrong and he might become aimlessly caught in the weaker parts of the current. He had no idea what would happen in such a circumstance but felt obliged to proceed regardless, anxious to become more empowered.