We sat on a bench, on a freezing cold evening in a Scottish Northern Highlands park, and she took my hands in hers. I never saw Grandma so in earnest. Our breaths puffed out like steam in the light from the streetlamp, but she wouldn’t go back to the house until she told me everything she needed me to hear. She said I would find what she had to say unbelievable, but I had to listen, I mustn't interrupt. She spoke of a plague soon to strike the Earth; she told me the names of family members, some not yet born, but who I would come to know. She told me to watch for the little red-haired Alexis Langley, to be born in 2098. When I protested that I would be dead long before then, she stopped me.
“No, Eliza, you will see Alexis Langley.”
She said I would find the complete story on her computer in her apartment, along with information about events involving family members, corroborating everything she told me, and to help me understand her story was not a mere flight of fancy. She begged me to promise I would not dismiss her words as imaginings and not to share them with anyone until after Alexis was born. Faced with her urgent plea, I agreed.
I returned to Australia the next day. I never saw her again.
When the plague decimated the UK in 2026, the borders were closed. Europe and Australia were affected, and only America and Asia and parts of Africa escaped this first onslaught. Grandma and Margaret had gone to London on a weekend away at the beginning of the wave. Steven and his little boy remained in Scotland. As they lived in a remote area, they were relatively safe from the effects, but in populated areas, people collapsed and died in the streets.
That's what happened to Margaret. Days passed before Uncle Steven learned of her death, and though he tried every channel available, he never received news of Grandma. There were so many deaths in London over those weeks; when he received no word from her, he had to assume that she'd become a victim. Five more years passed before Steven and his son were able to make their way to Australia.
I didn’t look for the story until we gave up all hope of finding Grandma, and because I promised, I read the account. A fascinating and imaginative account. But at first, I considered it a work of fiction—notwithstanding her uncannily accurate prediction of the plague. In the story, she also mentioned my cousins, some of whom were alive at the time Grandma died. As years went by, their fates unfolded as she predicted, with eerie accuracy, right down to the dates, including the tragedy of my sister and her daughter, who both died in a house fire.
Ariel, the messenger, told her an error had been made. But he made another—that she would not remember. But she did, all of it, and her last words to me would echo through the years.
“I couldn't take Alexis's life from her, Eliza, or the promise of future lives. Time gave me a beautiful gift, and it was too brief. But it needed to be forfeit, to allow her to return. That timeline was removed. The universe blinked, and it ceased to be.” She smiled a faraway, wistful smile, and clasped my hands to her bosom, holding them there as if in so doing, she could impart her deepest emotions, the beauty of her life with Noah Ryan. She looked young and happy that night as if she knew something was about to change, her voice clear and expressive.
“I loved him, Eliza,” she closed her eyes and breathed a sigh. “With all my heart, I loved him, and now,” she pressed my hand against her heart, “he is here. He is here, with my other sweet Eliza, the aunties, Principal Katya, Amelia and those wonderful people who love me. One day, in another time, I will be with them again.”
“Write the story,” Grandma said, “even if no-one ever reads it.” So, I did, but not until after I retired as a high court judge, and after a long career in politics. Before then, the story was always in my mind. Despite the ‘coincidences', I so often consigned it to fantasy, to Grandma's newfound fertile imagination. That scepticism continued even after Marianne’s death, my logical brain telling me there was no way Grandma could have known.
But after the birth of Martin Watkins in 2060, I put pen to paper and listed the people and events as they became relevant. On the day she was born, I held Alexis Langley in my arms and stopped questioning. When Uncle Steven's great-granddaughter Caroline and her husband John died in an accident, the authorities brought Alexis to me because I was the only relative they could locate. There was an uncle they said, who'd vanished and couldn't be found. Perhaps I knew where he was? They had no time to search, the plague was spreading and there were many other little orphans to care for.
I remembered when Martin disappeared some years before, a genius IQ with PhDs in physics and mathematical sciences, his brilliant, ever thinking and creative mind craved peace and quiet. Thanks to Grandma’s story, I knew where to find him, so I sent for him. He would come, because he was part of Alexis’s story, just as much as she was part of his.
Alexis has been with me these last two weeks, but I’m too old to care for children. Martin Watkins arrived, looking older, more peaceful. I hadn’t seen him in many years. He’s a gentle and kindly soul who responded to my message within two days. Even with the distress of losing his younger sister, he and Alexis bonded instantly.
As he lifted her from my arms this morning to take her to the transport, I thought I saw something in her eyes, something familiar. I thought of Ariel's words, that we live many lives over and over, that Grandma would be born again as Alexis Langley, part of the same soul family; that each choice determines a new path. Alexis looked at me over Martin's shoulder. I couldn't shake the sense of familiarity in her eyes.
“Grandma?” I said softly, not wanting Martin to hear and knowing that if it was her, the veil had already been drawn.
Alexis smiled her sweet smile and tilted her head to one side, studying me, her ginger curls falling in a little cascade over her uncle’s shoulder. He was distracted by the pilot of the transport and didn’t hear.
“I not your grandma, Auntie ‘liza,” she said with fierce wisdom. “I only five,” and she opened and closed her little hand in farewell.
I'll never see them again. The plague is on its last rise, and I am 103 years old. But it comforts me to believe Grandma has gone home, that the time was now right for her to be born as Alexis Langley. And there, in that far distant future where before she was history, Noah will be waiting.
Epilogue
Eliza Ryan–80th day/2nd quarter/y2529
Registry, Eliza Ryan, diary. I cannot believe it! I'm 15! Are you listening registry? Blooming thing, what on earth is that rattling? OK, I know I'm shouting. It's just that I'm so excited! I start my aptitudes in two days' time! I am doing agriculture first—lots of animals I hope. We've been to see Granny and Grandad and the aunties, and now we're here with Auntie Katya. I have mummy's old room, and I can see all the way to the lake. Mother and Daddy and Matteo are feeding the ducks. Matteo still has five years before aptitudes. He is so jealous!
I thought I might do veterinary science like Granny and Grandad, but then I think I may like education or science. Educator Ryan sounds good but so does Dr Ryan. Principal Patrick says I should go to the Galileo and be a science officer (but I think that is because he is secretly in love with mummy and knows she will come and visit). I don't know yet. I've spent most of my life in space. And now, I can do anything! Oh, my gosh! I must settle down, but I feel like jumping off the roof of the Tabernacle!
(Voice command standing by)
OK diary, I’m sitting quietly. Breathe Eliza, you goose. Be sensible.
I’m going to feed the ducks for the last time. Who knows when I’ll get the chance again? I’ll miss everyone so much, even Matteo, as much as anyone can miss a little brother! I don’t expect mother and daddy ever had an adventure like this!
Eliza Ryan out!
Loved The Afterlife of Alice Watkins: Book One and Book Two?
Then check out what’s next!
The Soul Monger
The practise was ancient. And profitable. For centuries the Soul Mongers crossed the mysterious Transcender portal that linked their universe to ours. Their mission?
The name they gave to humans.
But it was only in the Soul Monger’s universe our remarkable potential could be fully realised; only there did we learn just how truly unique we are.
And how prized we would become.
As slaves.
In time, an enlightened and benevolent League became the symbol of a new order and many systems and worlds were drawn to a new awareness. Trade and commerce between the Treaty planets flourished and slavery was outlawed. With the Transcender sealed and denied their secret access to our world, the Soul Mongers and their vile trade all but died out. The legends of whole souls faded into history.
Until an unnamed enemy rose, waging a fierce and merciless onslaught the peaceful League were powerless to withstand, unless they once more acquired the deadliest weapon known to their universe.
Us.
And only the very last of the Soul Mongers knew where we were.
Coming August 2018
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Acknowledgments
Writing a science fiction story, in fact writing any story needs a little help from your friends!!
So I must give special thanks to my alpha/beta readers and editors, Jo and Amy for their ruthless, take-no-prisoners approach to every stage of my work and Jeremy and Alise Crossland at Beehive Book Design for their patience and incredible support.
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About the Author
Matilda Scotney spends most of her days roaming the galaxy, searching for people and places to write about so she can provide her readers with a few hours of stories that are truly off the planet. The rest of the time, she lives in the mid-west region of Western Australia with her dog, Oggie.
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