The Road Not Taken. Ch 1-6
Right... This was going to be a challenge entry. However, when I was four chapters in, it vanished from the site. No idea what happened to it? Deleted by the person who created it? A glitch in the system? I don't know. But as I was four chapters in, and no longer had a deadline, I decided to continue with it. Still am, in fact. These are the first 6 chapters, I'll post more as I write them.
To the person who did make that challenge, an explanation would be appreciated in the comments, if you did delete it! Just because no one's submitted anything 3 weeks in, does not mean no one will!
Anyway...
Chapter 1
“I’ve just thought of a question.”
“We’ve been through all the technicalities, Mr Brown…”
A mechanical voice spoke over the head researcher. “Five.”
“…It’s a little late to have second thoughts, now, don’t you think?”
“Just…”
“Four.”
“… How do I know what I’ll be getting into? I will have this other…”
“Three.”
“...me’s memories, won't I?”
“No, and he’ll be very confused when he finds himself here.”
“Two.”
“Fortunately for him, we can at least give him your history.”
“Finds…”
“One.”
“… himself here? He’s taking over my life? And I won’t know anything about…”
“Initiating transfer.”
“…see to it, sir” He froze in midsentence, and stared around at the blank, white room with the observation window at one end. At the two men in white lab coats sitting at some controls. “What the fuck is going on? Where am…” He glanced down at himself, at the scruffy sweats he wore. “What the fuck am I wearing?”
“Allow me to explain, Mr Brown. Our research has unearthed a very interesting aspect of the universe. Have you any understanding of the concept of timelines?”
“I… You… You’ve… I… Yes, I’ve always been a fan of science fiction, everyone knows what timelines are. Are you trying to tell me that’s where I am? You’ve yanked me from mine and brought me… What gives you the fucking right?”
“Quite frankly, Mr Brown, we don’t care. You’re just an unfortunate consequence of the research, it’s the you you’re currently inhabiting who chose to take on a new life. It seems the life he’s taken, is yours. The only way to do it is by direct exchange, he takes yours, you take his. Goodbye.”
“What do you mean goodbye? Send me back!”
“No. Oh, you’ll find a dossier containing all pertinent information on how your life transpired at the entrance.” And with that, there was a click, the floor tilted violently and this other Mr Brown slid down into the darkness and was gone. The moment he’d slid out of sight, the floor returned to its horizontal state.
“Do you think he’ll figure it all out?”
“We haven’t exactly given him much choice in the matter. He can’t do much worse with what he’s been given than the one we sent.”
“True. Very true. I wonder what the differences are.”
“So do I. We’ll just have to piece together what we can by observation. Are all the cameras in place?”
“Of course.”
”We’ll never know the full story, short of exchanging ourselves to find out. I’m not quite ready to do that, yet. I’m not sure I trust anyone to perform the reversal and I like the life I have. I’m not sure I’d trust the alternative me to cooperate, either. One-way trips are all we’re doing for the foreseeable future.”
“We could’ve debriefed him, you know. Found out from the horse’s mouth, so to speak?”
“No, Alan.” He sighed. “You know the only way to maintain stability in the early stages is to keep the exchanged subjects as far from the equipment as possible. One week and there’s no way to reverse it without another active transfer. He’ll never find us again, he doesn’t know where we are and the tunnel’s designed to be confusing. By the time he finds the exit, he’ll be a mile away and…”
The next words out of Alan’s mouth were in a bored monotone as if reading a line for the 500th time. “And the tunnel seals itself behind him as he travels, ensuring no possibility of return. I know. Hell, I designed part of that, myself.”
“Yes. Rather cunning little wheeze, that part, wasn’t it.” He chuckled.
Chapter 2
“…his? How the”
“I beg your pardon?”
Derek Brown blinked and looked around in shock. He wasn’t in the white featureless room anymore. He stood on the edge of a wide, open area surrounded by buildings on all sides. He gulped at the man standing stiffly before him, then he noticed his own posture. Both had their hands firmly clasped behind their backs. The man who’d spoken wore a uniform. An army uniform. He glanced down at the man’s sleeve but there was nothing there, then his eyes crept up to the man’s shoulder. On the pristinely pressed army tunic, a crown was woven onto each of his shoulder straps.
So, you’re an officer… How high, though… Higher than captain? Shit, how can I… Then he glanced down at his arm. At least that, he recognised. Three stripes. Sergeant. At least he knew how to address him.
“I’m… I’m sorry, sir?”
“What does ’He’s had every chance, I’ll his? How the' mean?"
“My apologies, sir, I… I suppose you could say my train of thought became derailed, sir. Err… Who’s had every chance, sir?”
“Are you unwell, sergeant?”
“I… I feel fine, sir. I suppose I could just put it down to a rough night, sir.”
“I expect better from my NCOs, sergeant.” The officer… Major! That’s what the crown represented!The major slapped a file into his chest. His hand instinctively shot from behind his back to grasp it. “I’ll give him one final chance. One more failure from him and I’ll have him discharged from service. And if you make a slip like that, again, get to the medical centre! Dismissed.”
It’d been thirty years since he’d been an army cadet as a kid, but the jog to his memory regarding the crown had another effect. Almost unbidden, his arm snapped up into a salute.
The major saluted back, about turned and marched away.
Derek attempted the same thing, stumbled a little and rushed away, rather than marched. He looked around in a panic, muttering under his breath. “Fuck! Why army!? Why the fuck did it have to be this bloody life? I can’t survive here! I don’t even know where I live! What my…” He glanced down at the folder he held. “Maybe I can fake it… Looks like I don’t have much of a choice.”
He began to pay much more attention to his surroundings. To the signs on all the buildings. Finally, his eyes settled on one in particular. A large NAAFI sign hung above the door. “I can’t remember what it stands for, but I know what it means. I… Shit, I hope it’s got a bar and a place to sit. No idea where the mess is.”
He sighed with relief when he crossed the threshold. A bar, a sign on a door to the left read “Snug”, on the other side, “NAAFI shop.” He walked up to the bar, noting the two stripes on the sleeve of the barman. “Half a bitter, corporal.”
“Yes, sarnt. Aren’t you on duty, though?”
“That’s why it’s only a half. I need time to think and somewhere comfortable to think it.”
“You normally go to the warrant officer’s and sergeant’s mess don’t you, sarnt?”
“Yes, but not this time. I… It’s complicated.”
“Oh. I get it.” He nodded at the folder. “Ashford, again. What’s he done this time?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. That’s why I need to think… What can you tell me about him?”
“You’ve worked much more closely with him than I have, sarnt.”
“Yes, but you’re likely to have seen him in… a less official capacity, working here. True? I want to learn everything I can about him, this time. Everything. It might be the only way to save his career. Maybe even his life. You know how bad it can be if you’re looking for work as a civvy having been involuntarily discharged from the army.”
“Frankly, I’m surprised he’s lasted his long, sarnt. If I’d been in his boots, I would’ve quit the first time.”
“Yes. The fact he’s still here must mean something.”
“Well… He’s a pleasant enough bloke most of the time, but my God he gets angry when people disagree with him. I even saw him throw a bloody tantrum, once. That time, I kicked him out, and sent him back to his billet to calm down.”
“Anything more?”
“Only that he’s glued to the screen whenever the wolves play.”
“Wolverhampton Wanderers?”
The barman nodded. “Even asked me to record a match if he was on duty and it clashed.”
“And did you?”
“If the recording didn’t clash with another request from one of us, sarnt. yes. I can only do two at a time.”
“I suppose it’s something.” He patted himself down, located a wallet and pulled out a credit card.
The barman smiled, tapped something into the till, then a handset and held it out for him.
A tap, a beep. He put the card back into the wallet and picked up his half. “I’ll just sit in the snug. Got some reading to do.”
Derek rushed to the corner table, placed his pint and folder and began emptying his pockets. “Anything. Anything to give me some fucking clue…”
He had more pockets than he was used to. From his left breast pocket, he pulled a notepad, his two rear trouser pockets produced a few folded bits of paper and the wallet… His wallet. Well, it was his, now. His right trouser pocket, keys. When he tapped his left trouser leg pocket and felt the smooth rectangular shape, he immediately unbuttoned it and pulled out a smartphone with a grin. The grin widened when he activated it and it asked for his fingerprint.
“Oh, thank fuck he didn’t use a password.” He immediately swiped through all the apps, spotted the banking app and tapped it. Another fingerprint lock and the sight of his bank accounts turned the grin into a cackle. “Twenty-five grand! I’ve never had that much money before.” He scrolled down. “And that was just an ISA… Another… Bloody hell! Why the fuck did I have to leave the army cadets if this is the result?” Another two accounts. Each contained six thousand pounds and a credit card that only had a hundred quid on it, obviously fully paid off every month.
He spent the next ten minutes studying the accounts more closely, trying to find some rhyme and reason, some clues to his life based on the payments he made.
“They say the smartphone contains your life, these days. I’ll have to study it more closely, later. Now, let’s see what…” He unfolded the papers and signed when one of them had his address on it, and the address was on the base. Finally, he knew where he was. Pirbright army barracks, wherever that was. His smile vanished as he looked at the contents of the letter. A mandatory increase in child support based on inflation? “So… It’s not perfect for you, here, either. I’ve got a kid! And divorced, by the looks of it. Suppose it explains why I’m living here.”
Putting everything back into the relevant pockets, he spotted the sign for the toilet and rushed over to it, freezing when he saw himself over the mirror above the sinks. A chiselled jawline, a rugged, handsome face, clean-shaven. Unlike the scruffy, unkempt, double-chinned, flabby mess he had been. The uniform looked like it was a part of him, from the pristine neatness of the sleeves of his shirt, folded and pressed so they rested just above his elbows, to his exquisitely polished boots. Around his waist, not holding up his trousers, but there anyway, was a cloth belt in three colours. He removed the beret he wore, and even the hairstyle, short, army cut, suited him. He didn’t just like what he saw, he loved it.
The cap badge had a figure on it. Pan, perhaps? No… Not Pan, this figure had wings on its ankles. Hermes? He shrugged. But it did give him pause. “I don’t even know what regiment I’m in! Use the clues. Start with the belt, seeing as I don’t know what the badge means.” He got out the phone and pressed the middle button, hoping against hope it worked the same as the ones back home.
It beeped.
“What regiment wears a belt of light blue at the top, green and dark blue.”
It beeped twice. “The Royal Signals wear a stable belt of light blue, green and dark blue. The colours represent air, land and sea.”
He sighed. “Thank God I’m not infantry!”
He returned his attention to the mirror and stared himself in the eye. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought I’d just become you. That I’d get your memories. Oh, fuck, you’re in for a shock when you see the state you’re in, the state my life’s in. I’ll do my best to not fuck yours up, too much. I like it here. I like me, here.”
Chapter 3
As he shot out of sight and the floor above slid back into its horizontal position, darkness engulfed him. He continued to slide and sensed what he was sliding down become narrower. A chute of some kind, then, a sharp turn to the right, another to the left and the gradient gently became shallower, flatter until he came to a rest. He felt his way forward. The chute had turned into a slide, flat at the end and as his feet touched the floor there was a slam behind him, cutting off any chance of him attempting to climb back up it.
Blindly, he stumbled forward until his fingers brushed a wall. He felt it, scratched it. Concrete. Then his foot kicked something that rattled into the distance. He crouched and began scrambling around on the floor until his hand grasped a stone. Standing, he felt the wall again and began scratching into it with the stone until he’d carved a deep indent. He did it again forming an X.
His fingers probed the symbol he’d carved, familiarising himself with it. “At least now I’ll know if I’ve gone back on myself.” He placed his left hand on the wall and walked. As he did so, there was a flash, a vision. Bright sunlight. Major Davenport and it was gone.
“What the hell was that? Memory?” In the pitch darkness, he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face. “I suppose the mind can play tricks on you when there’s nothing to see.”
He shrugged and continued, counting his steps, trying to note any deviation from a straight line as he continued. Then, his hand reached a corner. He bend his arm around it to measure the angle and continued. Another image. Pirbright’s parade square flashed through his mind. Another few steps and the NAAFI sigh appeared briefly and vanished.
He sighed. “Stop imagining your old life.” He slapped himself across the face. “Unless I can find those twats, I’m stuck here. I can’t afford to dwell on that, now.”
Again, he continued. Another flash, this time, Corporal Gorton, standing behind the NAAFI bar. Then the snug. Another corner and he was just about to go around it when the most powerful vision yet appeared. Of himself. Looking in the mirror in the NAAFI ablutions.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought I’d just become you. That I’d get your memories. Oh, fuck, you’re in for a shock when you see the state you’re in, the state my life’s in. I’ll do my best to not fuck yours up, too much. I like it here. I like me, here.”
Sergeant Brown froze. “What the fuck!? How did you do… What do you mean, you thought you’d become me?”
“You can hear me!? How the hell can you hear me?”
“Well I don’t know, do I? I suppose the fact I’m stuck in a pitch-black tunnel with nothing to see might have something to do with it. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“But you were talking to me!”
“Maybe that’s what I did. I wasn’t talking to myself, I was apologizing to your reflection.”
“There has to be some kind of link between us. Some… I don’t know… Residue of our old selves in each of us, maybe. What do you mean you thought you’d become me?”
“They said I’d get a new life! A new timeline where a decision I’d regretted would be undone. I wasn’t expecting this! They didn’t tell me we’d swap places until two seconds before the transfer. I… I can’t live here without help! I’m lost! How can I fake being an army sergeant when the last military experience I had was when I was fourteen?”
“But you said you thought you’d become me! You are me, now!”
“Physically, maybe.” Derek tapped his temple. “But I’m not you up here, am I? The only things I know about your life so far are what I’ve been able to piece together from the contents of your pockets!”
“But if you’d become me, you realise that would’ve been death to you, surely?”
“Death?”
“Well, if you somehow became me, me. Properly. All the memories from here would’ve been gone, wouldn’t they?”
“My life’s been shitty for years. No big loss, there.” Derek sighed. “And now, you’re stuck with it! I said I was sorry. Please, help me!”
“Help you? I’m going to find out where those bastards are and force them to send me back!”
“And if that’s not possible?”
“Where am I?”
“I don’t know! How do you expect me to know that?”
“You were there! You had to get there, didn’t you? How did you even get into this mess in the first place?”
“They’d been announcing their discoveries for over a year on the news. Worlds vastly different from the one you’re stuck in, now. Different kings, different prime ministers, different everything. I think they might’ve even been trying to map the timelines. Then, one weekend, they made a big announcement. A lottery. Ten quid a ticket. Win a new life. A life where your deepest regret was undone. I didn’t even know what that regret was until I found myself in uniform!”
“Well, now, we need to work together! I’m just as lost here as you are there. Now, where am I?”
“I said I don’t know! When they brought me here, they said their location had to remain a secret. Pretty obvious, why, now. To keep you in the dark. Stop you from finding them! The windows in the car were blacked out. I didn’t see any of the journey.”
“OK, where were you picked up? How long did the journey take? How many corners did the car take? Any straight sections that were probably motorways? How long were they?”
“I’ll need time to think about that! I’ve got other problems, right now.”
“Where were you picked up and how long did it take!?”
“I was picked up outside my house! I think it took about two hours.”
“I thought you said your life was shitty, and you own a house?”
“I inherited it when Mum and Dad died! I’m not well off if that’s what you’re thinking! When I saw the contents of your bank accounts my eyes popped out on stalks!”
“They’re dead? Both of them?”
“Covid.”
“What the hell’s Covid?”
“The pandemic? Think it was one of those SARS viruses? Millions died, more were affected long term.”
“Shit! When did this happen?”
“It started in 2019. Covid19’s the full name for it. It started in China but it was global by the end of March 2020.”
“But we have a robust bio-protocol against that kind of thing! Why wasn’t it contained!?”
“Boris fucking Johnson. For us lot anyway. Trump was even worse!”
“Who… and who?”
“PM? Bunch of greedy, self-serving twats who only cared about milking the economy for every penny they could scam out of it.”
“Fucking hell! Lemme guess? Tories?”
“Who else?”
“Who the hell would vote the Tories in again after Thatcher and Major?”
“Oh, after Major, we did sort of get a labour government. Sort of. There was a joke going around at the time, I’m Tory Plan B. An anagram of Tony Blair PM.”
“What? But… But we’ve been Labour since Major. Things are working out pretty well under Corbyn!”
“Corbyn? Bloody hell! Well, you’ve got bloody Rishi Sunak. Tory millionaire and totally out of touch with reality. Before him, you had the utterly useless head of lettuce known as Liz Truss.”
“Lettuce?” The sergeant resumed his blind fumbling through the tunnel.
“One of the tabloids. They got a head of lettuce and put it on a shelf. The lettuce lasted longer than she did as PM. Forty days. And in those forty days, Queen Elizabeth died, and she tried to shove through tax cuts for the ultra-rich that weren’t budgeted and crashed the economy. Before her, Boris, Teresa May and David Cameron. Thanks to him and Brexit, the country’s on its knees.”
“What the hell is Brexit… Never mind, I’ll check the newspaper archives rather than go over the history of the whole world for the past thirty years, we’ve got more pressing concerns. I want my life back and you need me. Probably far more than I need you, right now. I don’t want to get back there to find myself in the glasshouse or dishonourably discharged. You have to put up a bloody good show.”
“But what if we can’t talk again? What if what’s happening now’s just a fluke?”
“We have to at least try to keep the link alive!” Another corner, this one to the right. Again, he measured the angle before continuing. “Meet me!”
“What do you mean? Different worlds, remember!”
“Same physical location! Maybe it’ll help, both of us standing in the same place. At least I know where I live, now. I just don’t know how far away it is from here. I do know it’s a long way from Pirbright. We’ll have to meet halfway.”
“Where?”
“That depends on transport. Please tell me I own a bloody car, here.”
Derek shook his head. “I could never afford one.”
“At least tell me you can drive.”
“I can. It’s been a while, though.”
“Birmingham’s about the middle of the journey. Taken it often enough when visiting.”
“They’re… They’re still alive? Both of them?”
“Of course! They’re not thatold!”
“But how do I get there?”
“You’ve got an army land rover issued to you. Use it! Tomorrow night. I’ve got no idea how long it’ll take me to get home. How long it’ll take me to get out of this tunnel? When you said they wanted to keep me in the dark, you’ve got no idea. Oh, and bring a mirror. I will, too. That might be part of it.”
“OK. Where in Birmingham?”
“Hmmm… Good question. We need somewhere dark. Bring your torch. It’s army issue and bright enough. Maybe not Birmingham, then. Somewhere outside. Get your phone out. There’s a mapping app on it. Somewhere within easy reach of a train station. Preferably in the countryside away from streetlights. Pick somewhere north of the city, closer to me. I don’t have a car, after all.”
Derek got the phone out again to check, and noted that the train seemed to go way off course, but hit London before a change to get to Pirbright, then struck Pirbright off to get a better course for London itself. Finally, he saw a route he recognised. He zoomed in, following it until he found one that looked promising. “It looks pretty green around Rugeley.”
“Pick a place.”
“Cannock Chase Forest looks like it might be dark.”
“Zoom in as far as it’ll go and put a pin in it. Read out the coordinates. I’ll find it.”
“Pin? How?”
“Just press the screen until it appears. You can use that, too, to guide you while you’re driving. It does satellite navigation. When we get there, head for the most distinctive landmark near the pin. We’ll both likely see the same thing as suitable. We are the same person, after all.”
“Are we?”
“Just have to trust to luck this works. If we can talk, we can find the same landmark, that way.”
“I suppose that’s a point.”
“Now, what did Major Davenport say to you?”
“After telling me off for losing focus, he slapped a file to my chest and said he’d got one last chance.”
“I suggest you stop looking in that mirror and start reading it, then.”
“What if we need it?”
“Well, we won’t find that out until you go back into the snug, will we? You can’t stand there all day! Get to it, soldier!”
Derek sighed. “Yes, sir.”
“Did you just call me sir? You’re lucky I’m not there or I’d beast you all the way to bloody Guildford! I work for a living! You address me as sarnt!”
“Yes, sarnt!” He returned to the door to the snug, opened it, stepped out and looked around, backing into the loo and closing the door.
“What’s wrong?”
“There are other people in there, now. We can’t talk. Damn!”
I wonder.
“Wonder? Wonder what?”
So, you heard me, then?
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Don’t speak. Think.
“Think?”Don’t tell me we’re telepathic, now!
I’m seeing through your eyes. Well, my eyes… I thought it was worth a try. Yes, we’re telepathic, now.
Oh, fuck, this is good!
Just, get to it.
Yes, sarnt! Derek retuned to his seat, took a sup of his bitter and picked up the file.
Interesting. And good. We share the same taste in beer. If you’d bought a Bux or Stella I would’ve been gagging, right now. I could taste that. Try not to stub your toe.
So the link’s not just… Fuck me, this is amazing! So, why is he here? I know he’s prone to losing his temper and throwing tantrums.
He failed basic for the second time, but that isn’t the only thing wrong. As you said, severe anger management issues.
Any idea why?
He complains about forgetting his training. I think it’s more a confidence issue than anything else. He picks things up quickly enough during classes and other training but fucks up later. The temper? Probably frustration.
When did he fail?
Last week. It’s all in the file.
Don’t they normally get sent home until the next lot?
First time, he failed due to an injury. He couldn’t complete before their passing out. We held him here until a decision was made, this time. It took the higher-ups all week to decide what to do with him. He’d make a damned fine soldier if he could only get over himself.
Derek opened the file and began. A brawl on the first day?
And he had a week of punishment duty because of it.
Bullying? And two of the other recruits stepped in to defend the victim?
That, in my opinion, isn’t certain. The officer in charge took their side, two against one. The other recruits present corroborated their evidence, but…
Why the doubt?
Because the one who was bullied, a recruit called Taylor, bloodied the noses of those two. three weeks later.
Shouldn’t we get to the bottom of that, too, then? If he was the one defending Taylor rather than the one doing the bullying, wouldn’t it mean a black mark wiped from his record if we got the truth?
How would you recommend we do that?
I don’t know, do I? I’ve been in this life for, what? An hour? Two? What about the other recruits? If they’ve all moved on, they shouldn’t be anywhere near the two who may be guilty, anymore. Any influence they had, any loyalty or threats are meaningless, now. Do you have their contact info, so we could phone them at their new postings?
Another corner and when Sgt Brown rounded that one, the image in his mind’s eye vanished. There was light at the end of the tunnel. Good, you’re getting into the spirit of it, now.
There was no reply.
Derek?
“Shit. Hang on.” The sergeant backed around the corner again and turned away from the light. The image returned. Derek?
Yes?
I just said good, you’re getting into the spirit of it, now. Did you hear that?
Oh, shit! No, I didn’t. We’re losing the link?
I don’t think so, no, but I think we’ve found a limit to this contact. Pitch darkness is a big part of it. I lost contact the moment I rounded the corner, this time. There’s light ahead.
Bugger! Do we have their contact details?
Yes, yes. They’re in my office. We keep them for a year. I’ll have them until the next intake, then they get moved to the archives.
When is the next intake?
A month.
And where’s your office?
Admin block, level two, room 242. The key code to get in past reception’s 5334x. You’ve got the key.
Thanks. Any maps of the base?
Yes, and they’re dotted around the place. There’s one outside the barrack block. I need something from you, now, before I get out of these tunnels.
What? You know where I live.
Your pockets are empty.
They took everything from me apart from the clothes on my back. I suppose they might’ve left all that for you.
Mobile phone password? Any internet passwords I need to know?
I’ve only got a dumb phone. Smartphones are way too expensive. Barely use it, anyway. It’s not locked.
Internet?
Not at home. I’ve not even got a computer. I just nip into the local library when they bother to open and use theirs.
Email?
Good point. Gmail.com. Username, Derek dot Brown 3342. Password, Snowy owl. One word. Just, make sure the S and L are capitals and the Os are zeroes.
Snowy Owl?
I like all owls. Tawny owls, little owls, barn owls, snowy owls… Of course…
Sgt Brown chuckled. Of course, they’re all snowy owls by the time I’m done with ’em. Christ, I’d forgotten about Richard not Judy. Can’t believe that joke stuck with you. Anything more? Credit card? Debit card?
Shit! Sorry. You’ll need them, too, if you plan on getting back home. Most of the time you can just get away with contactless. Just tap the reader, but once in a while, it does demand a PIN. 0405 for both.
Have you any idea how insecure that is? Using your birthday as a PIN?
At least you’ll remember it. Please don’t change it, just in case I do end up back there. Oh, there’s more to Gmail than just email, there’s an entire suite of programs you can use online, and I have been.
I suppose everything else I need’ll be in the dossier they said they’d left for me. If I do need further information, I’ll find a dark room and wrap a towel around my head. If it’s good enough for the ravenous bugblatter beast, it’s good enough for us. You do the same if you run into problems. I’ll sign off. Got a lot to do. You do, too. Go through that file with a fine-toothed comb, Derek. A man’s career depends on it.
Not to mention mine. Or yours. Whatever. I’ll do my best. Suppose it’s all I can do.
We’ll speak later.
Hopefully.
Oh, one last thing that should help. Office, bookshelf, army training manual. Study it. Might only cover the theory, but every little helps. Sergeant Brown, signing off.
Hang on! What about your passwords? There’s got to be more to it than a door code.
*sigh* Good point. Get your notepad out, you’ll never remember them all.
Derek did as he was told. Ready.
What followed was a long list of sites he’d never heard of, usernames, passwords and other pertinent data.
One last piece, saved it ’til last because it’s very important…
What?
Brown, Sergeant, 45305640!
Name, rank and… Oh, fuck… How long did it take you to memorise it?
I’d got it by the end of basic. Sticks with you for life, that number. Especially when you’ve been in as long as me.
What was it again?
The sergeant repeated it more slowly. Any more questions?
Derek studied the list in confusion. Where are Google? Facebook? Netflicks? There’s not even a sign of Twitter or eBay! No Amazon either!”
Never heard of any of them. Clearly, we got a different lot of things there. Are you on those?”
Don’t worry, Google stores all my passwords. Just use Chrome. You only need the Gmail one to make sure you’re logged in for the rest.
One final thing… Cap off! Didn’t you learn anything in cadets? Indoors, one does not wear his beret! And you only salute an officer when it’s on! Beret off, no salute.
What do I do with it? Shove it in a pocket?
*Sigh* I know it’s been a while, but… Right shoulder strap. Roll your beret up and put it there. Now get to it, we’ll talk later… Hopefully.
Chapter 4
Derek sighed and started to read. The file was quite detailed, covering every aspect of Ashford’s training and where he’d failed the most. The first time he took basic, before an injury forced him to miss the end, he’d been a hell of a lot better than the second. As he continued to read, the cogs began to turn. This could work for both of them… If the commanding officer agreed.
The moment he’d absorbed the last sheet of the report, he packed everything back into the folder, finished his bitter and rushed out of the NAAFI.
Where to go… Where to go… Well, he did say they were dotted around the place.
Derek resumed his walk around the parade square. It didn’t take him long to find one of the maps on a large noticeboard by one of the buildings. A large, red, “You are here” pointed at one particular block. Classroom block 1.
“Right, then.” There was a lot more to it than just the buildings around the square. The place was huge, but, he located the barrack block both he and Ashford shared, he located the admin block and the idea he’d had began to solidify in his mind. He nodded and made his way to his office.
He took a deep breath as he entered the admin block, removing his beret as he did so, nodded at the lance corporal behind the reception desk and looked around. There was only one door at the back of the room, so, he went to it and keyed in the code. A twist, the door opened and he rushed through.
This floor seemed to have far too few doors for offices, only four lined the corridor, so, he walked past them, noting what each sign said. Briefing rooms, all.
At the end of the corridor, double doors, a shorter corridor turned to the right and at the end of that, a stairwell. Up that, another set of double doors and offices, lots of them. It didn’t take long to find his, it even had his name on the door, so, a fumble for the keys, testing each until the lock clicked, he entered, closed the door, locked it again and breathed a sigh of relief.
He began his search in earnest, riffling through all three filing cabinets in there until, finally, he located the group of recruits that’d shared Ashford’s dorm during his first basic training.
Sitting at the desk and searching the drawers, he gathered together some paper and began compiling the information he required, building up the story as the other recruits had sworn was the truth, noting that only Ashford’’s testimony deviated from the story the others had told. Even Taylor’s corroborated the other recruits' stories. He studied Taylor’s file in more detail, noting the bloody noses he’d inflicted on the two Ashford had initially accused. Privates Wallis and Pritchard had avoided any other trouble. Even the bloody noses had only had a passing mention, no discipline against anyone in that case.
Derek shook his head and sighed. Then, he remembered something else his counterpart had said. Bookshelf. Training manual. He dashed over, gathered up the three volumes and returned to his desk, perusing the first part. It didn’t take long for him to find something that raised a smile. Something he could use.
He grabbed his phone, unlocked it again and studied the apps in more detail. None of them had familiar names, apart from the ones that described their function. Fortunately, the one he wanted did just that… Call recorder. He activated it, returned to his papers and dialled the first of many numbers.
“Kettering army camp.”
“Ah, good. I’m just following up on some details from a soldier’s basic training. Would it be possible to speak to Summers, private, 88944507?”
“Name?”
“Oh, of course. Brown, Sergeant, 45305640”
“One moment please…” What followed was a couple of minutes of the most insipid hold music it was possible to produce.
“Workshop.”
“Ah, hello. Could I speak to private Summers, please?”
“Speaking.”
“Ah, good. I’m following up on something that happened during your basic training, first night on camp.”
“Oh, shit. How can that even be an issue, anymore? It was last year!”
“Recruit Ashford.”
The voice rose three octaves. “Recruit? Still? I know he didn’t pass out with us, but… Seriously? And he’s still there?”
“Before we continue, I’d like to emphasise a few points.”
“Err… What… What points.”
“The core tenets of the British Army include honour, loyalty, respect and courage. That loyalty and respect isn’t just between your comrades, the majority of it should be directed upwards, to your superior NCOs and officers, ending with the king himself. Agreed?”
The voice on the other end of the phone sighed. “Agreed.”
“So, what happened that night.”
“I…” Summers froze.
“Don’t tell me you still consider Wallis and Pritchard worthy of loyalty.”
“It wasn’t loyalty, believe me.”
“Fear? There were 18 of you against those two. OK. Look at it like this. You’re not in that billet anymore. You joined the royal engineers, those two joined the artillery. Two different regiments, too. Every single one of you moved on to separate army camps. The chances of you even seeing them again are slim.”
“I’m sorry, who is this?”
“Sergeant Brown.”
“Oh, shit! Sorry, sarnt! You saw them! They were both hulks! They started throwing their weight around the moment we’d had the bed-making demonstration. They singled out Taylor, saw him as the weakest, so decided he was going to do all their personal admin.”
“And Ashford?”
“He saw Taylor in a similar light, as the weakest. God, was he wrong about that.”
“So, he joined in on the bullying? And they decided he wasn’t worthy to receive the same services they were demanding, hence the fight? Something like that?”
“No! He stepped in. He defended Taylor.”
“Thank you, private Summers. That’s exactly what I suspected. Ashford failed his second basic training. I believe it may be a confidence issue and the punishment he had to endure when everyone backed up Pritchard and Wallis in their lies… Well, I think you can imagine that confidence took a major hit. I’m going to contact everyone from your intake. Get the story from each of you. Wiping that black mark from his record, I think, is the first step in getting him back on track. Now, what happened a few weeks later?”
“When Taylor snapped?”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“I wasn’t there. Obviously Wallis and Pritchard were. Galway and Brent were the only other ones to witness it, but when they told their tale after leave… He might look scrawny, but it’s a wiry strength. He flattened both of them. Oh, my God. Taylor suddenly became a friend to everyone. He’d tried to keep himself to himself until then.”
“And Wallis and Pritchard?”
“Taylor showed his worth that weekend. Really gained our respect. He forced them to apologise to Ashford, too.”
“But the stain remained. No one stepped forward to correct the injustice?”
“It was too late for that, sarnt. The damage had been done and we were all terrified we’d get kicked out for lying. Oh, bugger. I’m not gonna get it in the neck, now, for telling you this, am I?”
“I think we could chalk it down to the indiscretions of youth. I won’t push for any repercussions. In fact, I’ll advise against it for most of you.”
“So Wallis and Pritchard?”
“Who knows? They may. It’ll be down to the CO if he decides to pursue this. The only reason I’m doing it is to remove a black mark from Ashford’s record.”
“I hope he makes it this time! He’s a good bloke. Best of the lot of us.”
Derek chuckled. “Thank you for the endorsement. I hope that works in his favour, too.”
He ended the call, ended the recording, began another and dialled again.
Sixteen calls later, eight of which had borne similar fruit, the others being unavailable for various reasons, he left his office and explored the admin block, noting every office, every name on the doors. It was a while before he came across the office of Major Davenport. He gulped, took a deep breath and knocked.
“Come!”
Open the door, step inside, close it, march to the desk, stamp to attention. “Sir.”
“I take it this is about Ashford?”
“Yes, sir. I believe I may have concocted a cunning plan to deal with him, sir.”
“Go on.”
“Well, I did a little digging, sir. I believe a lot of his problems are centred around the frustration, resentment and loss of confidence after his first day as a recruit, sir.”
“What resentment?”
“The punishment he received, sir. The black mark on his record.” He pulled out the phone and hit play on the first recording, placing it on the major’s desk. “I believe it was an unjust punishment, sir. Listen.”
The major nodded and smiled when Derek invoked the values of the army, then it got to the core of the issue. The smile vanished as the recording reached its end. “And you’ve corroborated this?”
“I managed to contact eight more, sir. The rest were all unavailable, but I could follow up on the calls if you wish. They all said pretty much the same things. I did record those, too.”
“Forward them to me, and give me the list of numbers of the ones you failed to contact. I’ll follow up on them. If they also corroborate this new evidence, I’ll also contact the commanding officers of the two true guilty parties.”
“Thank you, sir. Which email address do you wish me to forward them to, sir?”
“Good point.” The major jotted something on a sheet of paper and slid it across the desk. “So, what did you have in mind?”
“Well, obviously, the first thing that should be done is to wipe that black mark from his record, sir.” Derek collected the sheet and placed one of his own, sliding it back towards the major. “I haven’t spoken to him, yet, but something to boost his confidence before the next intake… That’s where my cunning plan comes into play, sir. I would need to requisition a fresh army training manual, a new set of uniforms for myself, sir. And a set of lance-corporal armbands for Ashford. I’d also need to be relieved of my other duties if we do this.”
“Promote him? Before he’s even completed”
“Oh, no! Nothing quite that extreme, sir. He would be an acting lance-corporal, but I would emphasise some severe limitations. I would be the recruit that he would train, sir. The rank would only be in relation to me, sir. No-one else. If he tried pulling rank on anyone else, or treating a real lance corporal as an equal, well… That’s one punishment he would deserve. As for the training, trust me, I’ll make all the same mistakes they make. Probably even come up with a few they’d never think of, sir.”
“You’d willingly do this? Lower yourself to below him?”
“The next intake is in a month, sir. A recruit again for that long, before he resumes his own training? I think it’ll work wonders, sir. He’ll certainly gain an understanding of the frustrations we have to endure, sir.”
“I’m not sure I can spare you, sergeant.”
“I’d willingly take some of my leave to do this, if you can’t spare me in any other way, sir.”
“Seriously?”
“A man’s career is on the line, sir. He’ll make a damned fine soldier. The first recording wasn’t the only one that said he was the best of their section, sir.”
“And when do you wish this training to commence?”
“Monday would be the ideal start. It’ll give us time to prepare, sir. He’ll need it just as much as I will, and I have personal business to get out of the way tomorrow in order for it to be possible, sir.”
“And you’re willing to take on the role of recruit, for the full month? Even after hours?”
“Of course, sir. Might actually be fun, and it wouldn’t be the full trainer experience for him if he didn’t also get to do the morning inspection, sir.”
Davenport smiled. “I’ll assign you to three echo one and have a corporal arrange it’s clean and suitable for habitation. Ashford can take three echo three. You won’t be disturbed or disturb others. And I’ll have staff Etheridge arrange for all your needs. I agree, this is a worthy cause. We could even expand the concept if it works out for Ashford.”
“Expand it, sir? More than one of us posing as recruits?”
“And more than one of them taking the roles of your trainers. Done right, it could even lead to a few exercises. Exercises they would devise and you would attempt to complete.”
He grinned. “This is very clever. I love where this might lead. Granted, and no need to use any of your leave. I’ll have Etherage delegate your duties for the month.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I suggest you speak to recruit Ashford. I imagine what you tell him may be a bit of a shock.”
“Oh, I intend it to be, sir. I’ll order him to close his eyes when I slip the armbands on, sir. And I’ll be in the rankless uniform when I do it. See how long it takes him to realise.”
“You’d better get down to the quartermaster’s stores. I’ll phone ahead. Everything will be waiting for you. Dismissed.”Chapter 5
The light at the end of the tunnel hadn’t been daylight. Just a dim bulb at the foot of a flight of stairs. That led to another maze of service tunnels, this time, illuminated. He didn’t know how long it took before he finally found his way to a small room at the top of another staircase, this time, five flights.
His heart sank. If their complex was so far underground, he might never find a way back there. Even with the map he’d been building in his mind.
On a table, a carrier bag containing a folder, wallet, mobile phone and set of keys. One more door and a short flight of steps and, finally, he was in open air. His dismay grew as he studied his surroundings.
It was a housing estate. A badly rundown one. Many of the buildings were boarded up, a few even burnt-out shells and to make things even more unpleasant, the place seemed to be a target for fly-tippers. Heaps of rubbish, rotten old mattresses and rubble dotted the streets.
A heavy metal crash behind him shook the ground and he turned in shock, bolting back down the steps, wrenched open the door, only to be met by a steel wall.
“Fuck! Well, that’s one way back down there blocked. I need to find out where this is. I need a map.”
Continuing to count his paces, he moved down to the street, turned left and followed it around until, finally, he reached a junction to a main road. Following that for what felt like an age, finally, a road sign and something more. Something he knew. 33 Signals?
“Merseyside? Well, at least now I know how to locate that estate on the map. Damn, it’s a shame I can’t call on them to help. I could seriously do with some.” He dug into the carrier bag and checked the wallet. A ten pound note and two cards. That was it? That’s all this version of him bothered to carry?
“At least I know where I am.” He crossed the road and turned down a street that lead towards the nearest train station.
As he continued, his calves began to burn. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to continue, finally arriving an hour later, gasping for breath. He collapsed onto the bench and groaned. “I refuse to live like this. I refuse!”
He allowed himself to recover for a few minutes before looking at the display. The next train to Manchester was thirty minutes delayed and due in twenty. He sighed, forced himself to stand and staggered over to the ticket machine, muttering “Oh, God. Oh, God. How can anyone get into this state?” He took a deep breath. “I should be able to run ten times that distance. I will. Looks like it’s going to be hell for me for the next few months if this doesn’t get sorted.”
* * *
“Finally!” He gasped as he collapsed onto the sofa in his parents'… in his… living room. Even the trudge up the hill from the bus stop had knocked the wind out of him.
He only then looked around the room in dismay.
The place was a mess. It looked like the house had been ransacked! If it weren’t for the fact a TV sat in the corner of the room, he would’ve suspected burglary.
“You lazy, bone-idle waste of air!” Another sigh. “I’ll deal with this crap tomorrow.”
Spotting the TV remote half buried under a pile of paper on the coffee table, he reached for it and turned on the telly, flicking through all the channels.
“Well, that’s similar.” He glanced at the clock. “4pm and sod all on.”
He was just about to hit the button again when an advert came on. He froze and stared in horror.
“Unsatisfied with the way your life has turned? Do you have deep regrets you didn’t take a different path? The new life lottery. Just £10 per ticket and you could win the life you always dreamed of. A life where those actions you missed weren’t missed. A life where the things you regret didn’t occur. Next draw on the 20th of June. Get your tickets now!”
“I… Oh, fuck! So, I’m not the only one? How many more? How many before me?”
He continued with the channel surfing until he stumbled onto a news channel and settled down to watch.
Chapter 6
You’re a sergeant. Talk like one. Act like one. Exude the presence of one! He took a few deep breaths, then an extra deep one and yelled. “Stand by your bed!”
He gave it a count of five before he opened the door to the billet.
Ashford was six foot two, medium build and wore a t-shirt and jeans. He stood to attention at the foot of his bed and didn’t look happy.
Derek marched forward and stamped to a halt in front of him.
“Make yourself presentable, Ashford. Uniform. Now. I’ll be back in ten minutes!”
“Uniform, sarnt?” The worry increased on his face. “Ah, shit. That means they’ve decided?”
“Yes, a decision has been made. Get changed.”
About turn, march out, slam the door. Derek chuckled. “That actually felt good!”
He looked down the corridor, the doors all followed the same pattern. On the left, all had large gaps between them, indicating they were all similar dormitories, each with the two doors on the right indicating smaller rooms. Rooms for the lance corporals and corporals in command of each section, or in this case, training each section. The other, for the sergeant in command of all of them.
He fumbled with his keys again until he found the right one, then picked up the kitbag he’d been given and opened his door.
So… This is home, is it?
It wasn’t a huge room, but it was enough, he supposed. Everything he expected was in there. The large metal cabinet synonymous with army barracks everywhere was his wardrobe. The pristinely made bed. Everything in the place, neat, tidy and clean.
There was no hint of clutter and apart from a TV in the corner, very few personal items. He opened the cabinet and studied the perfectly stores uniforms. On the left-hand side of the rail, one set of civilian clothing. On the right, shelves contained underwear and socks. The top one, a few books. The shelves also housed a lockable drawer. Another fumble with the keys and he studied the contents of that, too. A couple of wristwatches, one looked high-tech, a few coins at the bottom and a box. He reached in and opened it to reveal a medal. What it was for, he had no idea.
“Where the hell’s all your other stuff? You’re on a sergeant’s wages and you don’t seem to own anything! So this is it? A career soldier, with nothing to show for it?”
He sighed, locked the drawer and wandered over to the desk. A lamp, a blotter, a couple of drawers, but when he opened them, more army stuff. Nothing personal.
“How can anyone live like this? And now I have to? God! How can he not be bored stiff when he’s not on duty? Just as well I am doing that basic training thing next week. Least I won’t have this to think about.”
He sighed and returned to the door opposite. Another yell of “Stand by your bed!” and again, he marched in, this time facing a fully uniformed Ashford.
He glanced around, grabbed a couple of chairs and slammed them down. “Sit.”
He sat on the other, facing Ashford as he took his.
“Now. Tell me how you feel?”
“Miserable? Terrified? I don’t want this to end, sarnt! I want to pass out! I need” Ashford sighed. Well, half sigh, half sob.
“I said a decision had been made, I didn’t say what that decision was. I am partly instrumental in it, though. I did a little digging on your behalf.”
“Digging, sarnt?”
“Listen.” He again hit play on the first recording.
As it played, Ashford stared at the phone in shock. Tears began to well. “Does this mean…”
“The next intake is in one month. You’re a part of it. You’ll get to complete your basic, Ashford.”
“But I failed!”
“I can understand why, you know? You took an unjust punishment on your very first day. You’ve been holding back a hell of a lot of resentment since then. Confidence in yourself at rock bottom? Second guessing every decision? Tiptoeing about, walking on eggshells, terrified you’ll make a mistake?”
His eyes widened and he nodded.
“Well, by the time you begin again, that black mark will be permanently wiped from your record, if it isn’t already. Stop worrying so much. If it makes you feel any better, I handed the list to Major Davenport. Everyone I couldn’t contact, or didn’t try to, will be contacted too and if they also corroborate what the nine I already did said, and the two true guilty parties continue to lie… Well… They’ll likely really get it in the neck.”
“So… So I get to come back next month! Oh, thank fuck! Thank’s sarnt!”
“Oh, no. You’re not coming back next month.”
“What? But you said”
“We’ll talk about that later. Right now, though, I want to build some of that confidence back. A little roleplay.”
“What? But I’m not a nerd, sarnt!”
“I didn’t mean that kind of roleplay. I’m not asking you to pretend to be a wizard or anything. Just pretend that I am a guest of this base. That I’ve never been here before. You are going to give me a guided tour, tell me what each and every building and feature of the camp is, what it’s called, its function and so on, and as we walk between them, you can go into the history of the base. If we have time, maybe the history of the regiment you hope to join.” He stood. “So, get to it, recruit. Lead the way.”
* * *
At first, he stumbled over his words, hesitated, ummed and ahhed, but after a few simple questions about the place, easy ones even someone who’d been there a day should know, but Derek still didn’t, Ashford began to relax, become more vocal, more eloquent and by the time they were halfway around the camp, he brimmed with enthusiasm. It was clear he loved the army life and that enthusiasm began to rub off on Derek.
Then they reached the assault course and as they approached one of the walls, Ashford slowed.
Derek glanced across at him to see pain in his eyes. To see the hesitation beginning to return.
“What’s wro… Ah.” Remembering the file he’d read, he nodded. “I understand. This is where you broke your ankle close to the end of your first attempt at basic training?”
“I… Please sarnt… Before I say anything more… Could you go to the med centre and ask them to review the x-ray?/”
“What? W… Don’t tell me it was more than just a bad landing?”
“I want you to see for yourself before I say anything more. I… I can’t… I need you to see it.”
“I’ll do it, now. I think we’ve covered a lot… Before I go, though, point out anything we missed.”
“Yes, sarnt! At the end of the assault course, the outdoor firing range.” He pointed. “That building, the armoury manned by Staff Wilson, normally. He even has his billet in there, the weapons are never left unguarded. Beyond that, general stores, where we go to pick up our ration packs and where we got issued with our kit. That building over there… Payroll. Only really need to go there, these days if there’s something wrong with our wages, but they told us there’d be a queue around the block twenty years ago when they paid by cheque. These days, it goes straight into our bank accounts, though. Workshops beyond that, for general trade training. Things like bricklaying, carpentry, stuff like that. Then, back to the guard house by the main gate and the cells in there.” He shrugged. “Spent a week in one of them when I wasn’t painting those rocks along the paths. They’re comfortable enough.”
“Thank you, recruit. I think you did a fucking good job. Until we got here, you were enjoying it, too, weren’t you?”
“Yes, sarnt!”
“Get back to your billet. I’ll see what the med centre has to say.” Now that I know where it is. “I think I can guess why you’ve clammed up again, though. You were… still are? Terrified no one will believe you?”
Ashford sighed and nodded.
“I think that may have changed, by now. If the med centre does claim anything unusual, I’ll fetch you, we’ll both report to the major’s office and I will bring the x-rays and an assessment by the medic on duty of that x-ray. If what I think you’re trying to say is what I think it is, this is a hell of a lot more serious than a bit of bullying.”
Ashford nodded again.
“Well, jump to it. I’ll meet you there when I’ve done this, make sure you’re in tip-top shape for major Davenport.”
“Thanks, sarnt.” Ashford bolted back towards the accommodation blocks.
* * *
He froze just before crossing the threshold, his hand shooting up to his head. For fuck’s sake, Derek, it’s not that hard to remember. Cap off, you idiot!
He took off his beret, rolled it up, unbuttoned his right shoulder strap and fastened it again with his beret in place, then opened the door.
It looked pretty much like any doctor’s reception area, a lot of seats for waiting patients, even a few tables with the ubiquitous readers digests on them.
Behind the counter, a lance corporal in conversation with a captain, both with red crosses on their arms.
He marched up to the counter, stamped to a halt and waited.
It didn’t take long for the captain to turn. “Sergeant Brown! No health concerns, I hope?”
“Not for me, sir. It’s a past one I wish to enquire about.”
“But you haven’t had one in”
“Sorry, sir. Not me. Ashford.”
“Ashford?! So, he’s finally decided to come clean, has he?”
“So, there was something suspicious about his injury, sir? He only hinted earlier. He wanted me to see what you had to say about it before he’d be more… forthcoming, sir.”
“Any idea why?”
“Oh, I have an idea, sir. He’d been labelled as a liar from his very first day, sir. I imagine he wasn’t willing to tell the truth about it because we’d see it as him lying again, sir. Probably in an attempt to get one of the other recruits in trouble.”
“Yes… Well, he did lie, sergeant.”
“He didn’t, sir. That’s just it. Major Davenport already knows, I suppose you should, too.”
He again played the first recording.
The captain’s eyes widened as the recording reached its end. “Bloody hell. No wonder he clammed up so much. He insisted his injury was caused by a bad landing after jumping off the wall but… Just a moment. I’ll just go and get his file. And your intentions?”
“Clear his name, sir. Completely. If it means bringing a true villain to justice as a consequence then so much the better, sir. This isn’t just bullying if I think it’s what it looks like, it’s aggravated assault, grievous bodily harm, sir.”
The captain vanished into the room beyond the reception for a few minutes and returned holding a file, he pulled out an x-ray and held it up to the light. “Yes… See here, and here… The injury he claimed would’ve been a compression injury if he landed badly, but his ankle appears to have sustained a crushing force laterally, as if impacted by a blunt object.” He pointed at the picture showing how the bones had been cracked and displaced.
“What are the probabilities that it was self-inflicted?”
The captain shrugged. “Pretty negligible, unless he took a hammer to it. The angle’s all wrong for anything but a force applied from outside. Even if he’d stamped on his own ankle, the bones would’ve been displaced in the opposite direction.”
“Would it be possible to write these conclusions down, sir?”
“No need, already done. The suspicions have been in that file from the start, along with his insistence that it was just the result of landing badly. Take it.”
“Isn’t there a doctor/patient confidentiality… thing to worry about, sir?”
“Not in this case. We have a little more leeway in the army. It’s army business, we’re fine. If it’d been a more personal… issue, such as a sexually transmitted disease, then it would be a concern.”
* * *
He didn’t bother with a yell of stand by your bed, this time. He just opened the door, said “Ashford, with me,” turned and walked down the corridor.
Ashford was by his side moments later. “What did he say, sarnt?”
“Oh, he knew you weren’t being very liberal with the truth about your injury.”
Ashford sighed. “Thought so, sarnt. They grilled me when they were setting my leg.”
“Now, it’s time to set things right. Major Davenport’s office. When I say speak, you tell your tale, fully and truthfully. Who did it, why, how, etc. Understood?”
“Now I know you know I wasn’t lying the first time, no problem.” He grinned. “I would’ve just been accused of doing it to myself before, though, sarnt. Just to get back at them.”
“I thought it must be something like that. Come on…”
Out onto the square, into the admin block, and up the stairs. Derek knocked.
“Come.”
He opened the door, stepped inside and held it open for Ashford before closing it.
“Brown… And Ashford?”
“Sir, something more serious has come to light regarding Ashford’s first basic.”
“More serious? We have them both banged to rights already!”
“Ashford. It’s time. Speak.”
“It was the final assault course before our passing out, sir. We only had a few more lessons, then it would’ve just been drill practice until the parade itself to make sure we were perfect, sir. Wallis and Prichard didn’t know what order we’d be running the course, none of us did, and if I’d gone before both of them, nothing would’ve happened. I would’ve been in the signals right now. Unfortunately for me, Prichard was three ahead of me. He deliberately slowed to let the ones behind him pass and when he got to the wall and dropped down, he waited. The moment my feet hit the ground, he lashed out, sir. Kicked me in the ankle. After that… Well, you know I spent the next four months in plaster and another two undergoing physiotherapy to get my movement back. I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t see any choice but to lie. You already had me pegged as a liar and if I’d tried to report what really happened, he said right there after he did it, he’d report I did it to myself, sir. And no one would’ve believed me! I would’ve been kicked out for sure, sir!”
Davenport sighed. “I see. And I understand. You’re probably right about your veracity being put under severe scrutiny after what we perceived to be the lies on your first day. So, Prichard broke your ankle?”
“Yes, sir, but I bet if Wallis had been the one ahead of me that day, he would’ve done the same thing. They were almost joined at the hip, them two, sir.”
“Did he say why he did it? Was it just retaliation for that first day?”
“I was doing pretty well on my first basic, sir. I think I might’ve even been heading for best recruit or at least, most improved, sir. I think it was just to take me out of the running, sir. I missed all that… Can you tell me who got that, sir? And if I would’ve if it hadn’t happened?”
“I’ve reviewed all the files, now, so I don’t even need to look it up. Best? No. That black mark knocked you out for that one, but most improved, yes.” He sighed. “And yes, Wallis got best.”
“And most improved, sir?”
“Taylor.”
Ashford smiled. “Thank you, sir. At least he deserved it.”
“You were right, sergeant. This is far more serious, and now that they’ve both completed their basic training and attested, they are really in for it. Assaulting a fellow soldier? I see the glasshouse in Prichard’s future, probably followed by a dishonourable discharge. I managed to contact all the others in your section the sergeant missed, bar one. Wallis was out on an exercise and won’t be back until next week, so he’ll have to wait to dig his own grave, but… Well… You may want to hear this.”
Davenport grabbed his phone, scrolled and prodded a couple of times and placed it on the desk before hitting play.
“Aldershot.”
“Ah, hello. Major Davenport of Pirbright. I was wondering if you could get private Prichard on the line. Army number, 88944502.”
“One moment please, sir.”
Another few minutes of that same insipid hold music.
Davenport frowned. “I’m really going to have to have a word with them about that. A dead line would be preferable.”
Derek chuckled. “Yes, sir. At least on Father Ted, the nuns sang their hold music live, sir.”
“I’m sorry? Father who?”
Damn! Err… “I caught it quite some time ago, sir. An Irish catholic priest. Comedy, sir.”
“When you were stationed in Belfast? Good grief, that was a while ago, wasn’t it? I suppose it just didn’t make it to the mainland.”
“I suppose so, sir.”
Their attention snapped back to the phone when the next voice emerged. “Hello?”
“Private Prichard?”
“Speaking.”
“Ah, jolly good. I’m phoning all who took part in your basic training. Just routine, you understand. I was wondering if you could give your assessment of one recruit Ashford.”
A snigger emerged. “Don’t tell me that loser’s still there? I’m surprised he hasn’t been kicked out, yet.”
“That’s your assessment? Loser? Can you be more precise?”
“He’s a coward, sir. And mentally unstable, sir.”
“What do you mean, mentally unstable?”
“He’s bonkers, sir! I take it you know about our first day?”
“Go on. I do have the file here, but I want to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”
“We’d just been taught how to make our bed and iron our kit when he started on the wimp at the end, sir. Telling him to make his bed. That he’d be his personal valet from then on, sir.”
“And how did the fight start?”
“We saw what he was doing was wrong, sir. Me and Pete… Sorry, sir. Private Wallis, stepped in, sir. Told him to stop.”
“So, not quite the coward if he stood up to both of you, even if he did pick on the weakest, initially?”
“No, sir. It was like flicking a switch, sir. He went totally mental. Threw a right hissy fit. Before we knew it, we were both rolling around on the floor with the moron, sir.”
“Any other instances of this… mental instability?”
“Assault course, sir. He was right behind me. He yelled forward that he was going to get me for what I did, whatever that was and when he jumped down off one of the taller walls, he landed with his foot right on his other ankle, sir. I yelled back that no one would ever believe him. He’d already lied through his teeth about us, sir. I suppose that’s when he realised what a mistake he’d made. God, did he turn the air blue. As I said, sir, he’s a nutter, sir!”
“Thank you for the rather… colourful description. Anything more to add?”
“If he is still there, seriously, dump the git, sir. He’s a danger, sir. Dread to think what he’d do with a loaded weapon and someone in his section he had a grudge against, sir. Bastard should be sectioned.”
“Thank you, Private Prichard. That was very helpful. Dismissed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
There was a beep.
“God, he really has it in for me. Even now, the petty, vindictive little”
“Ashford!”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Understandable, but the language I imagine would have come out of your mouth is totally inappropriate in front of an officer. Don’t worry. The others in your section all described the events of that first day much more favourably. Favourably for you, that is. Added to that… I wonder…”
He opened the medical file, nodded and fiddled with his laptop for a minute. “We do have security cameras on all the buildings. It isn’t a good view… Ah, here we are.”
The assault course was visible and it was a good angle to see the wall from a direction that showed the side they dropped down from, but it was a fair distance away. The major turned the laptop again briefly and zoomed in on that section of the course, watched for a minute and clicked something before turning it back. A lot of soldiers in full combat gear dropped down the wall and continued, then one stopped and waited for a few frames. The next frame, another soldier was at the top, a couple of frames later, he was curled into a ball at the foot of the wall as the one who’d waited was halfway to the next obstacle.
“Whenever an incident occurs on camp, all camera outputs for that time are logged rather than discarded. Unfortunately, it was such a distance away, we don’t have the resolution to identify faces and as it’s in time-lapse, we didn’t see the whole event or the offending kick. I suppose we should count ourselves lucky we have that much. It does, however, correlate with your version of events, which means that phone call is another nail in his coffin.”
Ashford beamed. “Thank you, sir!”
“You will, of course, testify at the court martial. I don’t know when, and as every witness is spread out across almost every army camp in the country, I’m afraid you won’t be able to face him directly. It’ll have to be via videomeet.”
“Gladly, sir.”
“Very good. Report to the military police at oh eight hundred tomorrow to make your official statement.”
“Yes, sir. Might get the chance to ask them a few questions, too, sir.”
“Questions? About what?”
“If I’d passed out when I should’ve, I would’ve been wearing Mercury on my cap badge right now, sir, same as sergeant Brown, but after what happened, my priorities have changed. That’s what I’m gunning for now, sir. MP.”
“That is excellent. We always need more MPs, not the most popular trade in the army and as you’ve suffered an injustice yourself… I think you’ll make a damned fine one.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
He about turned and marched to the door.
“And you, sergeant.”
“Of course, sir!”
He was getting better at the about turn and managed it flawlessly, marched out of the door Ashford had opened, closed it and joined him as they marched back towards the billet.
“Looks like I won’t be going home for a while, after all, sarnt. Do you have any idea how long it’ll take before the court martial?”
“Absolutely none. I doubt he’s even been charged, yet. It can take some time. I wouldn’t worry. You weren’t going home, anyway.”
“I… don’t understand, sarnt. The next basic’s not for a month.”
“You will. I did say you weren’t returning for the next basic training, didn’t I? The reason is, you’re not leaving so there was nowhere to return from. Come on, back to the billet, I’ll explain there.”
* * *
“Stand to attention, but this time, move your arms away from your body a bit and close your eyes. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Derek returned to his room, replaced his shirt with an unranked one, hastily and messily folded up his sleeves, rummaged for the new beret and put that under his shoulder strap and gathered up the fresh training manuals and armbands.
When he returned to the dormitory, Ashford still stood there, a little worry creasing his brow.
Derek dumped the manuals onto one of the beds, stretched the first armband as wide as it would go and, careful not to touch the recruit’s arm, eased it up until it was in place before releasing. He did the same with the other arm, stood before him and… “You can open your eyes, now.”
He did so and stepped back, staring at Derek’s arms. “Where’s your stripes, sarnt!”
“Think of this as a continuation of the roleplay we had earlier. The guest you escorted was so swept up by your enthusiasm, he joined up. That’s why I don’t have a rank. I’m a recruit, now, and you, corporal, are going to train me. I’ve never been in uniform before. This is totally new to me. You will perform all the duties the training team had when they trained you. Every mistake you lot made and many more, I will make and we have a month. We begin on Monday.”
“You… You want me, to train you?”
“Yes, corporal!”
“Corporal!?” He glanced down at his arms. “Fuck… me! Seriously? How can I”
“Before you continue, you are an acting lance-corporal. Don’t try to pull rank on anyone but me or you’ll be in deep shit. Don’t try to act as an equal to a real lance-corporal, either. Those are only armbands, not sewn on. For the next month, I’m your plaything. Inspection, training, punishment. Everything we did to you, you get to do to me.”
“Holy shit! This is… It’s… Why, though? I don’t get it.”
“You needed a boost, corporal—a serious one, not only to your confidence. By the time this is over, you’ll hopefully be a hell of a lot more sure of yourself. No more second-guessing. It can kill a soldier, being frozen in indecision, so, I came up with this and the CO didn’t only agree, he loved the idea.” He returned to the bed, gathered up the training manuals and shoved them into Ashford’s chest. “You’ve got a lot of preparation to do. I suggest you study those. Every single thing, no matter how basic, you teach me. Even down to making a bed, polishing my boots and ironing my kit. Take the armbands off, for now, though. They don’t come into force until Monday morning. And on Sunday night, pack all your kit”
“Pack up, sarnt?”
“To stay out from under the feet of everyone else, Major Davenport has assigned me to three echo one and for you, three echo three.”
“I… But no one’s been on the top floor of block three in five years, sarnt!”
“I did say to keep out from under everyone’s feet, didn’t I? Don’t worry. He assured me it would be returned to a habitable state before we begin. I Imagine it’s a bit dusty up there, right now. If you require any resources, the person to see is Staff Etherage.” Damn, what was the word… Think, Derek! Think! Oh, yeah. “The major’s assigned him as our quartermaster. He’ll probably be able to offer you advice, too. Now, I suggest you start studying those books. They’ll be available for the full period as a reference, of course, but absorb as much as you can before then.”
“Oh, God, this is amazing! Did you say I’ll be in room three?”
“Of course! You’re training me, after all.”
“My own room?”
“And I have a dormitory all to myself, but a room is more appropriate to someone doing the training, so, yes.”
To the person who created the challenge “The road not taken” about someone who won a lottery to get transferred to a different timeline wher
Where's it gone? Did you delete it with over a week left on the challenge? The deadline's nowhere near over yet, and I was 4 chapters into a piece for it!
PUT IT BACK!
“With me is Doctor Barratt of the Midshire University Archaeology Department.”
“Hello.”
“Doctor, what exactly am I looking at?”
“Our most recent dig. Our most exciting one in decades.”
The reporter glances into the dugout. “But what is it?”
“A barrow mound, carbon dating estimates 1000 BCE, with a 10% margin for error.”
“In a field in the middle of nowhere? How did you find it?”
“It began as a class project. A search for anomalies by studying aerial photography. Several candidates and not one to balk at a challenge, this is the one I chose. We hoped we’d strike gold, and… Some of the artefacts are amazing..”
“What like?”
“A diamond encrusted bronze plate is the most valuable piece, but a clay pot sealed with pitch contained a surprise. The most important discovery is a windup toy and a ball similar in size to a modern football. The body was that of a child.”
“3000 year old clockwork?”
“Nothing quite so exotic, but it was driven by a spring.”
“And the contents of the pot?”
“A fish, coated in what could only be described as batter.”
“Aren’t barrow mounds normally above ground?”
“There are a lot of mines in the area. Five hundred years ago, the workings beneath it collapsed causing the whole mound to slump into a deep dip which gradually filled with debris over time.”
“Thank you, doctor. Dennis Mulligan, BBC news, Cheshire.”
The screen switched back to the studio.
“Sport now, and Manchester United have announced a new lineup”
The TV turned off.
“I think that went rather well. Score one for us.” Barratt grinned.
Barratt’s assistant stared at the blank TV, worry creasing his brow. “But what if they catch us? It’s the most audacious hoax since Piltdown Man!”
“I wouldn’t worry about that.”
Prison visit
He marched up to the table, pulled out the chair and sat, watching the guard in the corner of his eye.
“Hello, Dad. Go on…”
“What do you mean go on! I’ve been worried sick!”
“Give me the bollocking of a lifetime, of course!”
“Oh, no. I’m saving that up for when you’re home!”
“How is she?”
“Your mother?”
“No, the woman I ran into!”
”How do you think she is!? Her arm’s likely to be in plaster for the next six months! They don’t heal well at that age. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t thi”
”I knew that bike was a bad idea! I’ll tell you this for starters. That bike has been destroyed!”
“Dad! It took me a year to save up for that! It cost me over ten quid to get it made!”
“I don’t care. You’re a menace on the roads on that thing! At least a horse has common sense, unlike you!”
The guard moved away and stood by the door.
Eric grinned. He lowered his voice. “Did Lance keep his trap shut?”
“He did. Dave grounded him with Greg.”
Eric sighed with relief. “Did you bring what I asked?”
“Yes, they’re checking the books over, now… So how is it in here?”
“I agree with Diah. I actually like a lot of it. Banged up in your cell all alone, though. That’s the hardest part for me. I need to do stuff. God it’s boring. Even with a book.”
“It’s not meant t”
“I know, you don’t need to say it. I won’t either. What’s happening with two section, do you know?”
“They went on an exercise on Monday.”
“Yeah. Diah told me about them marching past his prison cart in full kit. How long?”
“A week.”
“Bugger. And I’m missing it! Have they started on the fighting, yet?”
“Don’t know. They’re on exercise, so I doubt it. Look, how is Diah?”
“I’ve only seen him once since it happened, but I know he’ll be fine.” Eric sighed. “Angry, of course.”
“I can’t believe you agreed to this, Eric. This…”
“Diah wasn’t even conscious until we were in that bloody prison cart on the way down here, Dad. He didn’t take the taser well, at all. He needed me and I am better than fine here. Just pissed off I needed to miss two days in chains because of what happened Tuesday night. God, he’s impressive.”
Fred nodded.
“I mean it, Dad. That guard…” He chuckled. “They’ve told both of us if we ever get banged up again, it’ll be hard labour every time whether we’re sentenced to it or not. They’ve never seen anything like it, for either of us.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really. And what’s more, I’d be more than happy with it, too.”
Chapter 23
Sorry about the huge delay. Work and a lack of ooomph and when I hit a sweet spot where I felt like writing again, I ran into a roadblock as I re-read the previous part. Took a while to get a slight alteration in place for me to start again and then the time had passed. Can't believe it's nearly six months since the last part. Oh well, let's try to get things back on track.
Chapter 23
As they trudged up the hill, Gareth slowed his pace until he was walking level with Wren.
He lowered his voice to a mutter. “Can you tell?”
“Tell what?”
“Keep your voice down. Talk like I am. I don’t want him to hear.” Gareth pointed at his dad. “Can you tell if that’s my dad, or one of you pretending to be him?”
Wren sighed. “Sorry, He just looks… well… Um…”
“Human?”
“I’ve seen my reflection in that shiny thing on your car. I look human too, don’t I?”
“Right now, yes. I was hoping there might be some kind of tell.”
“If there is, I don’t remember what it is.”
“I… This might be unpleasant, Wren, but I want you to do something for me, now. He can’t read us, but he can read you.”
“Why couldn’t I read you?”
“Best to keep that a secret, because he can read you. I want you to bring up that feeling, the loneliness. The pain. Think about it and nothing else, for now. Just in case he tries.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Seems to me, from what you said when you were under the influence, that he’s buried those feelings so deeply, he might not even be aware of them. If you bring them to the front and he reads you, he’ll have to face those feelings head on. Possibly for the first time in his existence. It’ll hurt. Might even drive him away for a while. I bet he won’t understand what he’s feeling, but I know it won’t be pleasant.”
“In that case, I… Anything that hurts him, now I know what he feels about me.”
Gareth nodded. “Thanks.”
They continued following his father for another hour, out of the village, down the road, then out onto the moors.
Gareth sighed. “I think we’re far enough away from people, now, Dad.”
“But we’re not there, yet.” He looked around and scratched his head. “If only I could remember…”
“Remember where this supposed fishing spot it?”
“What do you mean, supposed? It”
“Dad, enough. There’s no such place! Not ’round here at any rate! We can talk here!”
“But I was sure…” His shoulders sagged and he turned. “Alright, so… What are your plans?”
“What about?”
“Your new… friend, for one? How can magic even exist? It’s just a stage trick!”
Eloise, I want you to do something for me, now. Seems you have an ability we lack, so we might as well put it to use.
Gareth could feel her shifting uncomfortably in his mind. What do you want me to do? What can I do, stuck in here?
You can hear me. I don’t need to speak out loud to you, Olban can’t, so, act as a relay. If I ask you to pass something on to him, do it. No need to pass it back, I can hear both of you.
Olban sounded confused. What’s that Eloise? What does who want you to do?
Gareth. I can hear his thoughts. Like he can hear both of us. He was just asking me to relay messages.
Gareth’s dad looked at him impatiently. “Well?”
Gareth sighed. Just ask Olban. What I can say that will totally throw him off the scent, something believable.
Eloise repeated the message.
If I had shoulders, or control, you’d be shrugging, right now.
Ask him… How about this… Olban’s created a means for me to access magic, here. It’s normally too weak in this world, while in Olban’s it’s a standard part of life. He created a channel, a way to direct some of that magic here for us to use. He taught me how to make the device that taps into it last week, to show you and Mum that he’s real and magic exists.
Another message passed, Olban considered for a moment and replied. Clever. You’d be nodding right now. Good one. And good thought with this relay, thing.
“Alright, Dad. Can’t hurt to tell you, but I can’t tell you too much. Olban created a sort of… channel… A way to direct some of the magic of his world to here, so I could use it to prove he existed. He directed me into building the receiver half of it last week.”
“Receiver? Of magic? Sounds complicated. Where is it? Can I see it?”
“No, Dad. It’s not accessible. We made it that way.”
“What do you mean, not accessible?”
“We hid it in a sea cave in the cliffs. Somewhere safe. Somewhere no-one could interfere with it. Mainly because it’s hidden, but mostly because it’ll spend over half its life underwater. It’s high tide. I can’t tell you any more. It might put you in danger.”
“Danger?” His dad’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of danger?”
“Taking on a passenger’s caused another problem. Seems we’re being targetted by an extremely powerful but utterly…” Sorry Eloise, but I’m saying this more to rile him up than you, “cretinous moron. He might be an idiot, but he is still dangerous. He wants to destroy the universe, Dad.”
“Destroy the universe!? How the hell can anyone destroy the universe?”
“I can’t say any more. We know. That’s all that matters. I’m protected, thanks to Olban. He can read minds, so I can’t tell you.”
It was a weird sensation. It almost felt like a feather had brushed the surface of his mind.
His dad’s eyes narrowed even more and beads of sweat appeared on his brow. The next time, it wasn’t nearly as gentle, almost like a bullet ricocheting off a brick wall.
Olban chuckled. Nice way to goad him, Gareth. He’s probably not even aware we can feel that. We wouldn’t be able to if the shield wasn’t in place.
“And you both know?” There was a strain in his dad’s voice as he said it.
Gareth nodded. “Protecting him’s next on the agenda. It takes time to get it right.”
Wren collapsed to his knees, but at the same time, the expression on his father’s face twisted into one of pure horror and grief. Tears began to stream down his face as he let out a howl. His body withered, dissolved, briefly revealing the horned, devilish true form of one of his minions before it collapsed into a pile of dust and blew off into the wind. The howl continued for another few seconds as it faded into the distance and was gone.
Wren stared at the spot Gareth’s father had stood a few seconds before, worry creasing his brow. “That… That could’ve happened to me? You don’t think it still could, do you?”
Gareth shrugged. “I think he’s still learning how to interact with the universe. The first time we dealt with one of his minions, it was utterly… stupid… some of the things it did. We managed to kill that one… Well, Olban did, we were in his world at the time. Second time we dealt with one, he just abandoned you, and you became a friend. I imagine he’s just made a small alteration to the design, so when he abandons them from now on, that’s what happens. Otherwise, we’d end up with an army of his own minions teamed up against him.”
Pure guesswork, Gareth, but I like your way of thinking. It does prove one thing, though. That wasn’t your dad.
Gareth sighed. “I suppose we’d better get back to their house. Maybe Mum can pull her head out of her arse long enough to tell us when he started acting differently. We need to find him. If he’s tied up, there’s no telling how long he’ll be stuck like that. Or how long he already has been.” He helped Wren back to his feet. “Are you OK?”
“That hurt. It felt like someone smashed me in the face with a… a… Well, a really hard heavy thing.”
“Try sledgehammer.”
* * *
Gareth knocked on the door and waited… And waited… He knocked again.
Is she in? Maybe she left? She wasn’t in a very… stable… state of mind the last time we saw her.
Gareth sighed. “Or, maybe she’s still out cold on the sofa. Do you think I’d have enough… ooomph to open the door?”
I told you what you’d likely be capable of. Anvil in my world, feather in yours. A pencil, possibly, and that’d be pushing it. Busting open a door? No way.
“But I don’t need to bust it open. I’ve been in and out of this place often enough to know how the latch works.”
Good point. I still think it may be too much for you, but it’s worth a try, I suppose.
“How do I…”
Just place your hand, the right one, obviously, over the lock and concentrate on the image of the latch on the other side. I suggest a hard press down, rather than a gradual one. It might take more energy, more force, but it will be a lot shorter and be enough to overcome the force of the spring in it. Just make sure you time it along side pushing the door correctly. Should do the trick.
“Right.” Gareth placed his hand and closed his eyes. Image of the latch, check… aaaand… He imagined something slapping the end of it, hard and at the same time, shoved the door, almost falling flat on his face as it swung open. “Bloody hell.” He said, scrambling back to his feet. “It worked.”
Take it slow, Gareth.
“What?”
You saw the state she was in. I’m just saying be on the alert. If you were convinced your son had turned into a monster and were terrified he might come back…
Gareth sighed. “Good point.” He opened the door to the lounge a crack and peeked in. Well, she wasn’t on the sofa. Then, an idea. He opened it wider and peeked through the crack between the door and the frame on the hinge side… “Ah.”
It was only a fine line he could see through, but she was there, hiding behind the door.
“Mum, I’m not going to come in with you there. I’m not a monster. Don’t even know where you got that loony idea. I’m unarmed. And I most certainly do not want to spend the next week in hospital recovering from a stab wound or concussion. What is it? Kitchen knife? Frying pan?”
“Get out of my house! You are a monster! My…” She started to weep. “You murdered him!”
What the hell did he say to her?
Eloise, relay time again. No idea, but it’s obvious he’s been busy.
“I’m still me, Mum. Ask me anything. Anything at all. Dad was the imposter, Mum, not me.”
“Brian told me! He told me he saw you, a demon! You murdered Gareth and”
“The man who left this house an hour ago was not your husband! Think, Mum. Please! I’ve met them before, these, what you called demons! They make mistakes! Obvious things! I don’t know why, but I think it’s because the thing controlling them doesn’t understand the world. It doesn’t understand us! If you’re not willing to talk to me, phone Doctor Connors! He knows everything, now. We’d only just saved him before we came here!”
“I’m not coming out from behind this door until you’re out of the house!”
“Fine! I’ll leave, but phone him! Dad’s missing! No idea where that thing stashed him, but one of them was impersonating Connors! We found him tied up in his broom cupboard! I think they need them alive for some reason. Maybe to pick their brains for the information they need for a convincing disguise, but, as I said, they make mistakes! Think back. When did Dad start on this me being a monster, bollocks? What other things did he say that sounded odd?!” Gareth walked back to the front door, opened it, stepped outside and before slamming it, called back one last time. “Phone Connors! Now!” *SLAM*
Eloise had never sounded so meek. I… I’m… I… don’t know what to say.
“It’s OK, Eloise. It’s not… well… directly your fault. This is new, admittedly, but Mum’s always been a pain in the arse. Trying to protect me. Trying to wrap me in cotton wool because of my,” he maid air quotes, “mental condition.”
Olban chuckled. If you think this reaction was bad, you should’ve seen her when he announced he’d joined the Whitby RNLI. That he’d already been out three times and saved six people from stormy seas.
“Thanks for reminding me.”
Ten minutes later, the front door opened a crack. “Gareth? Is it really you?”
“Of course it’s me! You really upset me when you started throwing that monster bollocks at me! You saw how much!”
“But Brian”
“I told you! That wasn’t Dad! What did he say to you? How could you even believe him?”
“I didn’t believe him! I thought he was off his rocker! Until…”
“Shit! I’m sorry, Mum! I finally had a way to prove to you everything I said about Olban was true! Olban’s been working on something back in his world for a while. A way for me to use magic in this one, I wanted to be dramatic! To get it through your thick skull that there’d never been anything wrong with me! Different, yes. I’ve even since been informed it’s very rare, but wrong, no.”
She flung open the door and pounced, gripping him in a tight hug. It wasn’t long before she was bawling her eyes out. “I… I… I thought… you… you were dead!”
Gareth gripped her, too, attempting to calm her by stroking her back. “It’s alright, Mum. It’s alright. Let’s get back inside, eh? Sit down, I’ll put the kettle on and tell you as much as I can over a cuppa? OK?”
Seems fairly obvious...
The evolutionary bias towards male offspring could be seen as a balancing act. After all, throughout history, it's always been the men who did the most dangerous jobs. Hunting, fighting rival tribes, coal mining, heavy labour, etc. Men, therefore, are far more likely to die. OK, women, being the child bearers, are at risk of dying, too, but men tended to put themselves at risk on a daily basis, while the most dangerous part of a pregnancy is the actual labour, which is, at the most, once every nine months. It's only in the past 100 years or so that the balance has shifted, men taking up more sedentary roles and women allowed to do the dangerous jobs, too.
It’s a little more complicated than that...
"We run into the problem of definitions with this little conundrum." He said, leaning back in his leather easy chair, puffing on his pipe. "For there are several different meanings to the word 'brownie'.
"I'll cover just the three that spring instantly to mind and answer your questions in turn for each of them."
"1: Do brownies exist?
"Of course.
"Are they a tangible phenomenon?
"As a small, rectangular chocolate flavoured fudgey delight, of course they are. It'd be a little difficult to enjoy them if they were imaginary.
"Can you quantify them?
"I wouldn't even care to try to come up with an estimate. Millions must be made each day and I'm not a professor of baking.
"Why aren't you eating one?"
He reached for his plate and plucked up a sweet treat, taking a bite. "That's simple, because I'm eating a profiterole."
"2: Do brownies exist?
"Of course."
"Are they a tangible phenomenon?
"Most certainly. I've met a few people who were members, my sister included. As some of the audience may not be from the United Kingdom, a brownie in this sense, is a small girl, too young to join the girl guides. The female equivalent of a cub scout, though, I have heard the boy scout movement began admitting girls a few years ago..."
"Can you quantify them?"
"Again, as someone who pays little interest in youth organisations, I wouldn't care to try. I'm not even aware if they've gone into a decline in recent years."
"Why aren't you eating one?
"Because I'm not a monster? I'm not a child murderer, or cannibal?"
"3: Do brownies exist?
"This is a problematic question to which the best answer is, unlikely.. It is however, impossible to prove a negative. I would personally say no, but many people still believe in fairies, so, who knows? Maybe they do.
"Are they a tangible phenomenon?
"If they exist, they are reputed to be on the helpful end of the faerie spectrum, and they wouldn't be able to help much if they couldn't move things about, so., if they exist, yes. But as I don't think they do, I'll say no, they're just fairy stories. The result of an overactive imagination. So no."
"Can you quantify them?
"For the side of the argument where they do exist, no. For the side where they don't, yes. There are zero, none, zilch.
"Why aren't you eating one?
For the "They exist" side, have you ever seen a faerie? More, have you ever captured one? If, by some extraordinary chain of events, you managed to, killing and eating it would be an incredibly dangerous thing to do. The faerie folk are, as you've proven them to exist, a notoriously vengeful, petty, vindictive people with access to magic. Kill and eat one of their kind and there'd be hell to pay. Om the they don't exist side of the argument, because they don't exist, of course."
Chapter 20
The headlights flashed, the car made its beep beep noise and Gareth pointed. “Get in, Wren.”
“In? How? What is it?”
Gareth sighed and opened the driver side door. “Just get in the other side, sit down and close the door behind you. We’ve got to go.”
“Errr…”
“God, he really did take everything, didn’t he? I’m surprised you can even remember how to speak, let alone use that talent of yours. It’s a car. It’s how we travel long distances relatively quickly.”
Wren nodded and walked around to the other side. “How do I…”
“Just pull the metal handle.”
With Wren finally seated, Gareth nodded. “Now, reach for that black strap by your left shoulder, pull it down and clip the metal bit to the thing on your right by your seat. And before you ask, it’s for safety, it’s called a seatbelt.”
“These things are dangerous? I… Err… Can we walk?”
“We don’t have time to walk! It’ll take hours to get there and back on foot. It’ll only take fifteen minutes by car. Just follow my lead!” Gareth exaggerated his movements as he put his seatbelt on and muttered “finally” when Wren was secured.
“Where are we going?”
“Robin Hood’s Bay. It’s time my parents got a bit of a gobful from me, in person. And with you in tow, we can finally get them to stop bloody fretting.”
Olban chuckled. Good thought. They’ve been nothing but overprotective pamperers since you started talking.
“Yes, but only because I was talking to you. Well, now I’ve got proof that you’re real.”
Gareth pulled out and the moment they were on the main road, put his foot down. “Did he leave anything behind, Wren?”
“What? I said I can’t remember anything. I was telling the truth, you know. Even the reason for being there’s faded, now.”
“I want you to try something. Something so… so powerful that it not only controlled you, but created you in the first place… Well, I can’t imagine something like that not leaving some kind of impression.”
“But I said, I don’t”
“Wren, just humour me, OK? You might not even be conscious of it, but trust me. I’ve seen more psychiatrists and psychologists over the past twenty years than attend a bloody shrink convention. I know how it’s done.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Just close your eyes, relax, breathe deeply, for now. Just imagine there's an incredibly relaxing warmth in your toes and each time you breathe in, you draw that warmth further up your body. It’s the most relaxed feeling it’s possible to have and with your next breath, it’s up to your ankles, then your calves. Each breath, you feel more and more relaxed, more and more…”
You’re trying to hypnotise ’im?
“Yes, now, as you feel this warmth spreading up your body, every other sensation, every other concern or worry just melts away. The more relaxed you feel, the more you concentrate on my voice. My voice and that relaxing warmth are the only things that matter, the only things that exist as it spreads to your torso, and up, up to your arms, then down the arms until it reaches your fingertips. Your entire body’s more relaxed than it’s ever been before.”
Gareth glanced across at Wren as he left Whitby behind, entering the bleak North Yorkshire moors. Wren was definitely falling under the influence, Gareth could tell. The smile, the utter relaxation, he continued as he drove and he slowed down as he did so, careful to avoid any bumps in the road, anything that might jar Wren out of it.
Gareth continued with, what he’d learned from his own experiences, was called the induction, until he was sure Wren was down as deep as he could get him. Then he spotted a lay-by and pulled in, slowing to a gentle stop.
“How do you feel?”
“Wonderful! Thank you.”
“Do you want to feel this way again?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
“Good. It’ll be quicker to get to the state you’re in next time. I’ll give you a trigger phrase. When you hear that phrase, you’ll immediately seek out the most comfortable position you can find and when you have, you’ll sit or lie there, relax, and feel as you are now, instantly. When you hear me say “Dark lords suck”, that is exactly what will happen.”
“Thank you. I’ll like that.”
“Now, though, I want you to follow my instructions. I want you to imagine a large clock has appeared in front of you, the cl”
“What’s a clock?”
“Damn.” Gareth muttered under his breath. “Picture a large white circle in front of you, one with a straight black line extending from the centre. The line moves a small amount along with the thing making a tick, tick, tick noise as it moves. Those ticks are one every second. Just picture that line moving, tick, tick, tick, tick.”
“I can see it.”
“That arm’s movement and that ticking sound represent the passage of time, but as you watch, it begins to slow, and as it does, time slows down with it. Tick, tick… tick… … tick… … … And… The ticking stops… But it doesn’t stop for long, instead, the arm begins to move backwards, and as it does so, your time moves backwards with it. Tick. Each tick, a second of your time has gone back, back into your memories. Back further. Tick, tick, tick… You’ve just asked me how to get into the car… Tick, tick, tick, you’ve shown us where you hid Doctor Connors. Tick, tick, tick. You’re back in the doctor’s office, bound by the magic, just after your creator abandoned you. One more tick, and the clock stops again, and that tick takes you back to before we subdued you. To before the magic held you. Tick. Where are you, now?”
“Nowhere, there’s nothing. It’s just dark.”
I’m in the office, getting ready to spout that mumbo-jumbo at him.
Gareth sighed. “Olban, snap out of it!”
What? Where… Why have we stopped in the middle of… Olban sighed. It happened again, didn’t it?
Gareth chuckled. “When it comes to being hypnotised, you’re a natural. Me on the other hand…”
Always resisted it. No idea how. It’s just so… So restful. And Wren’s under, too? In the same place I was?
“Same time, no place. What did you mean, mumbo-jumbo? We wasted hours getting that crap in perfect sync.”
She doesn’t understand magic. All we needed to do was make sure we were all on the same page intention-wise, all concentrating on the same thing at exactly the same time. It was just for Eloise’s benefit, not ours. What did you mean, same time, no place?
“One tick back from his master abandoning him, just darkness. Nothing’s how he described it.”
Ahhh, shit. Well that was a waste of time, then, wasn’t it?
“Maybe, maybe not. Wren, I want you to examine the darkness. Examine the nothing, see if there is actually something to it. Some texture. Some lingering echo of an emotion or other impression. That darkness represents a hole in your memory, so, don’t just probe it, don’t just examine it, find the edges of that darkness. Find the shape of it. Try to detect any differences between the middle and the edge.”
It was a few minutes before Wren responded. “There is something, it gets stronger nearer the middle, but… I… It’s faint. Too faint to get a grip on.”
“In the state you’re in, Wren, I want you to understand that nothing can hurt you. It’s your mind and you have all the power in there. Do you understand.”
Wren’s smile widened. “Yes.”
“Good. Now, imagine my words are a rope, a tether, a link back to reality. I want you to tie these words around your ankle and dive into the darkness. Dive as deep as you can go into it, see if those things you feel get stronger, the deeper you go. I will be on hand to pull you out, but I want you to dive in and describe what you feel.”
“It is getting stronger it’s… Anger. No, worse than anger, stronger, pure unmitigated rage… No, wait, that’s gone now, I’m going deeper. There’s something else up ahead… Something… I… I don’t know the word for it…”
“Can you describe it?”
“His purpose hasn’t been fulfilled. Annoyed because every attempt to complete it failed? I…”
“Frustration?”
“Yes, that does seem to fit. Frustration, but that’s gone, too, now. The next one feels stronger. Ugh, I don’t like it down here. It’s too strong.”
“What’s too strong.”
“It’s making me feel sick. Repugnance? Revulsion? Disgust?”
“Disgust at what?”
“At the universe. At all the achievements of his brothers and sisters while he’s been locked away. The idea that the universe could’ve grown so much, developed to the point its at. He… He hates me. He loathes the idea that he has to sink to their level and create things like me to achieve his goals.”
“We knew he was an arsehole, Wren.”
“There’s something strong up ahead. I think it’s near the middle… It is the middle… Oh, God…”
“What is it?”
Tears began to stream down Wren’s cheeks. “It’s horrible. How could anyone endure it?”
“What? What is it?”
“Lonely… I’m so… He’s so alone! He’s always been alone. Everyone he knew, every single being was against him, even before they locked him away.”
“And you think he needs someone?”
“I don’t think he even understands the concept of companionship. He never experienced it, he probably doesn’t even understand the pain he’s in but it seems to be at the very core of his being.”
“I’m pulling you out of the darkness, Wren. I think we got everything we’re going to. You’re rising up. Up through the frustration, hatred, loathing and anger. I’m also pulling you through time, back to the here and now. Before you wake up, there’s one thing. The trigger I gave you will remain a part of you from now on, but you won’t remember it even exists.”
“Why?”
“It could be used against you, Wren. So, only we know what it is. Only my voice will activate that trigger, but if your old boss got wind of it with a mind probe like you tried to do to us, he could send another one of you disguised as me. So, my instruction is to forget you ever heard the phrase at the conscious level. It’ll always be there, waiting to be used, but you won’t know about it, as I said. I’m going to count down from five, and as I do so, that relaxation begins to drain away, the closer to one I get the more awake you become. When I reach one, you’ll be fully awake and refreshed and you’ll remember what you encountered in the darkness. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1.”
Wren’s eyes flickered open. He turned to Gareth with a gasp. “That was…”
“Weird?”
Wren shrugged, reaching for his face. “I don’t know what’s considered normal yet, sir.” When his finger stroked his cheek and it came away wet he stared at it in horror. “I… I leaked? You said no harm would come to me, sir!”
“Please, Wren. Don’t call me sir.”
“I don’t know where that came from. Maybe something came back from the black with me.”
“At least you didn’t call me master.” Gareth pointed at Wren’s finger. ”As for that, you cried.”
“I what?”
“When people are hurt, upset, sad, grief stricken, even angry, they cry, Wren. Tears stream down their face, they howl, they sob. It’s perfectly normal, not an injury. If anything, it helps people deal with strong emotions if they cry.”
He sniffled and nodded.
“The fact you did cry means you’re more human than monster, Wren. Be happy about that.”
“You’re not going to make me go there again, are you?”
“Into the darkness? No, Wren. I think we learned everything we’re going to. If you like, the next time you enter that state we can try filling it in with new memories. Wipe out the last remnants of your old master completely. Erase him from your mind. How does that sound?”
“Now I know how he felt about me, I know I picked the right side. Do it.”
“Let’s get to my parents. We need to talk to them.” Gareth started the engine and continued on his way.
Chapter 17
Olban stared around himself in dismay. Nothing was familiar. Oh, the trees were all of recognisable species. The flowers and other plants too, but… Gareth had asked a bloody good question. Where in all the hells were they?
He sighed. “I have absolutely no idea where we are;”
Fuck! What are we going to do? Gareth’s tone took on an air of despair.
“I think you were asleep when I made this.” Olban pulled on a chain around his neck and withdrew an amulet. He held it up to his face and turned it around in his hands. “Master Stell had never even conceived of such a thing before. He still doubts its usefulness. Now, it could prove vital.”
Why? What is it?
“I learned a lot in your world, Gareth. Watch.” He closed his eyes and concentrated and a moment later, a wispy form appeared before them.
Don’t tell me you can summon ghosts, now! Eloise exclaimed, horror filling her voice.
Olban muttered through gritted teeth. “Of course not. That isn’t a ghost.”
The form took a step back in shock. “Oh, by the Gods! I’m so sorry, Olban. I’m so”
“Sir. I’m not dead.”
“What? But look at you! There’s nothing to you!”
“Sir. Pull your amulet out.”
“What?” The figure reached for its neck and the moment the twin to the one Olban wore appeared, the figure gained a lot of solidity. It also became recognisable. It was Master Stell.
“But the beast! Goliath swore on his very life! He said it ate you whole!”
“Clearly, the form it took was designed for imprisonment rather than digestion, sir. The last thing it said before I passed out was that someone wanted to see me. It was just as stupid as Wellick. It didn’t disarm me. It swallowed my sword, too, and it was fairly easy to cut my way out. It’s dead, now. The problem is, I have no idea where we are. Nothing in the landscape’s familiar. Can you locate me?”
Stell smiled. “Of course, my boy.” He took something long and thin from his tool belt, clenched his fist around the amulet, closed his eyes and sighed. His smile withered. “How could that thing travel so fast? You were only swallowed two hours ago!”
“Why, sir? Where am I?”
“You’re a hundred and ten miles south of the village.”
“A hundred!? It’ll take days to get back! I have important work to do!”
“Don’t be too hasty. I’m currently in your cave. I’ve already scrubbed away the abomination that perverted it.”
“The salts, sir? I was wondering about that. About what could be done with them to”
“No, Olban. No. I forbid it. Leave the pigments to the weavers and potters. Blending such things with the art of metallurgy can lead to some very… unpredictable effects. It’s far too imprecise and where magic’s concerned…”
“Dangerous… I know, sir. Why did Wellick do it like that, then?”
“A very messy short cut. I did study the pattern before I removed it but I wasn’t able to make much sense out of it. All I can say is, wherever it led, it wasn’t in this reality. Fortunately, the pattern beneath, even though the metal was removed, is still ingrained in the stone. Bear with me, Olban, I think I can at least partially repair the damage.”
“You think we can have a means of instantaneous travel? To anywhere?”
“The magic in this cave is far beyond my level of expertise, Olban. I thought I was a master until I saw this. Now? Compared to this, I’m a child making his first horseshoe, but, I think I should be able to get enough range to open a way for you. One hundred miles is nothing compared to what this thing was originally capable of. I think that’ll be close to the limit with my shoddy workmanship, though.”
“Yes, sir. How long, do you think?”
“An hour, maybe two. You may as well sit down. Relax. Find something to eat while you’re waiting.” The image winked out of existence.
Two hours? Eloise sorted. A hundred miles is easy in two hours!
Oh, for… Gareth sighed. Even a marathon’d be a world record with a time that short. We don’t have the internal combustion engine here! The average walking speed for a human adult is less than four bloody miles an hour! I bet you’ve never even walked ten miles, let alone a hundred. How many settlements are there between here and the village, Olban?
“None until we’re about ten miles away. No-one travels very far south beyond Calton’s farm.”
What about a horse? Eloise prodded. Those are quicker, aren’t they?
“Do you see a horse around here? They’re not wild animals, you know. Certainly not on this continent, anyway. The nearest one? Calton’s farm, again. That means no water, no shelter, nothing. For at least four days. I think waiting here for a couple of hours is preferable, don’t you?”
What did he mean, find something to eat?
“Ah, yes.” Olban jogged to the top of a small hillock and surveyed the scene before trotting down the other side and over to a tree. “The traveller’s friend, we call this, otherwise known as the molkanut tree. They grow all over the place around here.” He placed his hand on the trunk and closed his eyes for a few seconds before whispering. “Forgive me, but we are in need and beset by evil forces. I promise to spread your seed when we depart.”
What was all that about?
Gareth chuckled. Magic’s real, remember? What you might view as superstitious crap in our world could save your life in this one. There might be a wood nymph attached to this tree. A dryad. Don’t want to annoy her, now, do we? What happened to Rinam. Olban?
“I’d rather not talk about it, but by the gods it was nasty.”
I think our guest needs to know.
Olban began gathering fruit from the tree. They were about the size of a plum with a dull orange skin, dotted with bright purple blotches. He shuddered. “Alright. He was about the same age as me until he disappeared one day. Thirteen by your reckoning. The next day…”
Go on. It’s good to talk about these things, y’know.
“He was my best friend! We were always exploring, playing at being travelling mercenaries and things but that day, I didn’t go with him. He got careless, not thinking the fairies lived in our lands. Here? We’re in fairy territory. That’s why there’s no settlement within a hundred miles. To the south, there’s nothing for a hundred leagues. He ate of the tree without asking for its forgiveness. Without promising to spread its seeds.”
How do you know he ate without this weird ritual thing if he disappeared? Asked Eloise.
“Because the next day, someone new came to our village. God, he was old, must’ve been at least a hundred and twenty. He was blind, but he recognised my voice. That was what happened to him. They took him. Punished him for years, then returned him. That’s one of the many dangers in dealing with the fairy folk. Their time works different. It isn’t consistent like ours. He could just as easily have vanished for a hundred years and appeared in our village as if only a day had passed for him, but they wanted him to suffer. They tortured him. He was insane when he returned to us but he had the odd lucid moment. One of those moments, he told us what he’d done and some of the things they did to him. We both had nightmares for a month. Didn’t we Gareth?”
You’d be nodding right now. One of the first times I really let loose to a psychiatrist. Unbelievably, he actually helped, that time.
Olban nodded, wandered back to the hillock and sat. “It’s not just scary looking things in this world that might be good friendly creatures. Some creatures are incredibly beautiful and very, very dangerous. As I said earlier, bury all your prejudices. Both good and bad. Here, they could get you killed.”
And you prefer this?
“We don’t choose where we’re born, Miss Parker and I was born here, raised, here, trained here. This is where my family and friends are. Besides, your world’s probably more dangerous than this one.”
But it’s hell, here. You live in filth, abject squalor, the dangers are way worse and we’ve been attacked twice and it’s barely afternoon! How can my world be more dangerous than a place that can get you snatched away for a hundred years of torture just for eating the wrong thing?
“You know the rules in your world, we know the rules in this one. As long as you follow them, there’s little danger. As for the filth, the so-called squalor… Gareth, last time you got ill?”
Gareth chuckled. Really bad case of the flu last year. Before that, chickenpox, food poisoning, the broken leg when the boat capsized was a major downer. I was off my feet for six months!
“Quite. I’ve never been ill. I never will be in this world. In yours, I very well may fall foul of one of your innumerate diseases. I didn’t enjoy it one bit when Gareth got sick and the broken leg was agony.”
So? Everyone gets sick once in a while. You’ve just been lucky.
“No. Not luck. Magic. Oh, I’ve suffered from the odd broken bone over the years, too, but I was fully back in action a day later each time. Every trade has its magical lore. Everything we own contains some magic or other woven into its structure. This tunic, for example. A modicum of protection from injury, a little temperature regulation and healing. The amulet I showed you, telecommunication, the pots we use to store food prevent spoilage. It never goes off. Never loses its goodness.” He prodded his neck. “Feel any pain?”
Errr… No. Why?
“That thing held me by the neck until I passed out. Not even a bruise, now. Healing magic. Someone from this world appears in yours, they’re unlikely to survive the week.”
What do you mean? Why?
“Even if they didn’t step out in front of a speeding car and get flattened, they’re likely to catch one of your diseases. They’d have no money, so couldn’t pay for food, pay for shelter. They’re likely to run into some thug or other and get beaten up. Might even get shot if they appeared in the wrong country. Here, we’re not obsessed with keeping up with the Joneses. We don’t own possessions just for the sake of having the brightest newest thing. We own things for their purpose and nothing more. Your world’s beset by greed. Selfishness. You people don’t give a stuff about the people around you as long as you’re alright. Here, we care deeply about each other. It seems your penchant for having a bedroom to yourself made you lose that sense of community.”
And that, Gareth replied smugly, is something I took from this world. It’s why I’m a lifeboat volunteer back home. I do help, where I can. Olban… the nut…
“Oh, of course.” Olban took one of the fruit and using his thumbs, tore off the flesh and put it to one side. Inside, a stone which he popped between his teeth and bit down, hard. There was a crack and he spat it out again before tearing the stone in half. He pulled a black ball about the size of a pea from the centre, wrapped it in the flesh, took out his dagger, cut a square out of the sod and planted it, replacing the square.
I… I don’t understand? You eat the stone? What about the good bit? It’s a fruit! You normally do the reverse. You eat the flesh and throw the stone away.
“Not with these. The flesh contains a stimulant, a very powerful one. If we had a horse, I could feed it the flesh. There’s enough in the stone to keep a human awake and active for quite a while. Eat the flesh and you’d likely suffer a heart attack, even with the healing properties of the tunic. The flesh will help the seed grow.”
Eat it, Olban. Oh, God, this is one of the few things I’m looking forward to when I get here physically. Tasting it for myself. Yes, Miss Parker. I agree with you about the smell. I don’t like it either.
Olban shrugged. “Bet you wouldn’t even notice it after a week. Besides, it’s natural. Better than the diesel and petrol fumes in your world.” He popped half the nut into his mouth and began to chew, sighing with contentment as the flavour exploded in his mouth.
putain, c'est la meilleure chose que j'aie jamais goûtée
What?
I said it's the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted!
I know. Good, isn’t it?
* * *
“Olban?”
Olban’s eyes snapped open, he leant up on his elbows and look down the hill. The image of master Stell was back. “Here, sir.”
“Ah, good. I’m ready. I’m going to try to open a way for you now, directly to the centre of the village rather than to the cave, but it may place more stress on the repairs. I’m unsure how long I’ll be able to keep it open, so I want you to make yourself as small as possible and leap through the moment it appears.”
“Thank you, sir. Before you do it, though…”
“Yes?”
Olban gripped his amulet, concentrated and a second later, the image winked out of existence. A few seconds wait, another manipulation of the amulet and the figure reappeared.
“Sir, what were we just talking about?”
“I was telling you about opening a way to the village… Why did you end the…. Whatever you call it?”
“A good word’s connection, sir. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t another Wellick. We know they’re a little on the tricky side and they can change their appearance and be pretty convincing about it.”
“Ah… Good thought. Very good thought. Be ready, I’ll do it, now.” The image winked out of existence again.
A few seconds later, it appeared. It didn’t look like the last one. It wasn’t a sphere. Instead, a shimmering window hung in the air, the roundhouses of the village clearly visible.
Olban leapt and at the same time, curled into a ball. It was a strange sensation. A sudden wave of cold combined with acceleration. A few brief flashes of… things. Not long enough to process what the things were, but they seemed to resemble life of some kind and then, a longer flash of the cave, another acceleration in a different direction and the village was just… there.
He landed, stood, and turned just in time to see the window showing the hillock he’d lain on flicker and vanish.
He gripped his amulet one last time and Stell appeared again. “Thank you, sir. You may want to study it before using it again.”
Stell’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, I intend to. What was it like?”
“Best I can describe it as is strange, sir. I don’t know how it works, but I seemed to pass through another place and I think there were living things there.”
“Really?” He giggled. Olban had never seen Stell giggle before. “I’ve got so much more to learn. I could spend the rest of my life studying this and barely scratch the surface. I’ll let you get on with it, I’ve…” He rubbed his hands together with glee… “I’ve got a to learn.”
And with that, the image vanished yet again.
I’ve never seen him like that before. He’s normally so….
“Serious?”
I was going to say miserable, Now? Looks like a kid in a toy shop near Christmas.
“Well, he is. He knew it all until he saw that cave. Now he’s realised he doesn’t know anything. Bet he feels like that kid, too.” Olban took a deep breath and turned towards his forge. “Better get to work. I’m afraid you might have to miss a day, Gareth.”
Miss a day?
“I think I’m going to have to pull an all-nighter. No sleep means you stay asleep until I’m finished. Sorry, but we’ve lost so much time today with all the distractions.”
Gareth sighed. OK. Just as well we decided to travel across on a Sunday, isn’t it? Just as well I booked a few days off work to show you around, too.
* * *
It was a weird sensation. Oh, she’d been conscious a few times when one of her other “personas” had control, but this time? The care! The skill. The strength he put into the work, carving the precise patterns onto the inside of the band with a white-hot stylus. And she wasn’t just seeing it being done. It actually felt like she was doing it, even though she had no idea what it was he was doing. There didn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to the patterns other than the fact they were beautiful.
Olban worked tirelessly at first, but the exertions of the day eventually caught up with him and when his need for sleep began to make demands, he took another nut from his pouch and did the same thing he had last time, munching on another of the stones. Reinvigorated, he continued, setting aside the stylus and collecting together the numerous metals he required, drawing them into wires so thin, Eloise suspected they were about as thick as a human hair.
When that was done, with even more care than the carving, he placed the hairs he’d made into the grooves, winding them around the pattern in various combinations, all the while muttering something incomprehensible under his breath, and, when each hair was fully in place, he ran this thumb along that section of pattern, muttering something more, this time with almost a sing-song tone. As his thumb stroked those sections of pattern, the metals smoothed and became a part of the armband in a way she couldn’t fathom.
When darkness began to encroach, Olban waved his hands in an elaborate way and the ceiling lit up. He continued his work.
Light was beginning to stream through the open doorway again by the time he held up the armband to study it and sighed. “All done.”
It’s beautiful, Eloise gasped, but what does it do?
“You surprised me, Eloise. I was expecting to be bombarded with questions all night.”
I’ve just never experienced anything like that before. Oh, the others had control once in a while, but my hands were doing such amazing things, I was mesmerised, this time. What was all that mumbling?
Olban sighed. "Alright. It takes immense amounts of concentration to focus enough to shape magic to your needs. I was just stating in exact terms what my intent was, that helps shape the magic in my mind and thus, the magic in the piece."
But I didn't understand a word of it.
"That's because I was speaking in the ancient tongue."
Why not just say it in English?
"A few reasons. You need to learn it, it isn't what you grew up with, which makes sure you're concentrating. That's only a small reason though. It's much more formal than English, not that we call it that. English is far more flexible and far more imprecise, more prone to misunderstandings. If I said it in English, my mind might trip up over some of those imprecisions and that could be dangerous. The ancient tongue is precise, rigid, just like the metals I'm working with."
I'm not too sure what you mean by imprecise.
"How many synonyms and homonyms are there? How many people can't even get it right in your world? Wear, where, were? There, their, they're. As for set, the dictionary has pages full of definitions and that's before we even get onto punctuation. When I say a panda eats shoots and leaves, do you picture a panda munching down on bamboo shoots or taking a bite out of a doughnut before opening fire with an assault rifle and walking away? One comma's all it takes to completely change that sentence."
I think I uderstand. I’ve never really been into arts and crafts. That might change, now.
“Nice to know we’ve had an impact.”
But what’s it supposed to do?
Olban sighed. “Alright. The designs along the outside edges are the original ones. It was nothing more than a proof of concept. Master Stell examined it and said it’d work so we didn’t even need to test it, not that we could until this weekend. Those patterns allow the band to travel through the dream with the wearer. It will appear on Gareth’s wrist when he wakes up. Stell’s confirmation allowed me to try for something much less conspicuous and much grander, though. Two days ago, I completed the two rings we would wear the next time I slept. Gareth also completed the other half of the mechanism. A circle in his basement that allows physical objects to appear from the dream. I was going to travel across with him, wearing the rings I’d made, but that’s no longer possible.”
What? Why?
“Because Vellan asked us to help you. We can’t use the rings until we have enough of them, that means six more.”
Six? But there’s only three of us.
“And five more minds sharing your original body. They’ll each need one in order to gain independence from each other. Until then, this armband will prove, finally, that magic is real and that Gareth doesn’t suffer from multiple personality disorder. As for the other things it can do, what I added to it? Several things above and beyond its original function. Vellan suggested a proof of magic, so… Well…” Olban snapped the armband onto his wrist. It covered his entire forearm, like a bracer rather than just a small bracelet. He pointed at the anvil and it shot three feet into the air. He twiddled his fingers, it span and then, he lowered his hands and it gently landed where it’d originally sat.
Gareth let out a cackle. And I’ll be able to do that? I’ll be able to flip the doc’s desk?
“No, Gareth. You know how weak magic is in your world. You may be able to levitate a feather. Possible even a pencil, but I doubt you’ll be able to do more than that. There is however more to it than just magic tricks. I’ve woven a healing charm into it. Here, it’ll do pretty much what the magic in my tunic does. There, it should prevent any diseases, stop them from gaining a foothold. It should aid your recovery by maybe double the normal healing rate if you’re injured. I also threw in a mental block. No more mind reading from things like Wellick. It’ll be like bashing their minds against a brick wall, here or there should they make the attempt.”
Good thought.
“Only one more thing to do before I bed down.”
Gareth sighed. What?
“Don’t worry, it’s only a promise I need to keep.” He gathered together the four Molka seeds and dashed to the edge of the village. A few minutes was all it took to plant them before he was back in the forge. He opened his firebox, placed it in the centre of the fire and the light began to dim, then winked out. Firebox back in his pouch, he walked over to the other side of the hut, swept aside a blanket, rapped it around himself and lay down in the centre of an ornate circular design.
I thought you slept with your family?
“Not this time. The circle’s needed, the armband won’t go anywhere without it.”
* * *
Olban walked through the void and it wasn’t long before two misty figures began to materialise by his side. Gareth to his left, Eloise to his right. A couple of minutes was all it took for them to become as solid as he was.
Gareth glanced across Olban and smirked. “At least put some clothes on.”
Eloise’s attention snapped to her left and the froze. “Who the hell… Gareth? Olban?”
“Of course. Who else would we be? Clothes?”
She looked down at her naked form and yelped, curling up and attempting to cover herself, not very successfully.
Olban sighed. “I thought you were familiar with the dream! You said you were going to conjure up a dagger, after all.”
“I normally find myself in some woods with my other… selves? I’ve only ever seen… What is this place? Why is it so… So empty?”
“It’s always like this. Just conjure up some clothes. It’s a little distracting, to say the least.”
“How?”
Gareth tutted. “It’s easy, just use your imagination. Look.” He swept his arm across himself and instantly, the jeans and t-shirt he had been wearing vanished, to be replaced by a pirate outfit that would’ve looked ideal for one of Jack Sparrow’s crew. He clicked his fingers and that was replaced by a full leather biker suit and crash helmet. Another click and he was wearing his lifeboat gear, yellow waterproofs and life preserver. Then, a thought… He clicked his fingers a final time and was immediately encased in steel. A full medieval suit of armour, cotton surcoat depicting a red cross included. “Thinking about it, we might all want to dress like this.”
Olban nodded. “Slight improvement on that idea, Gareth. How about this?” And in the blink of an eye, Olban was encased, too, but not in metal. The material was much lighter and more flexible around the joints, but completely solid. Completely sealed off from the outside world.
“Space marine? I like it!” Gareth chuckled and his armour changed to match. He patted his side and pulled a laser pistol from its holster. The next time he spoke, it came out like a poor quality old-style phone call. “Might as well be armed, too, just in case.”
Eloise looked down at herself, closed her eyes and concentrated. When she opened them again, she sighed with relief. Jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket. “Why do you want me to dress like a science fiction convention reject?”
“When we crossed over last time, there were a lot more nightmares than usual. They can be dangerous if you become embroiled in them. You can’t be hurt, but you can have a very rude awakening and if you’re here physically, like when Olban completes the rest of his rings, then you can die. As just dreamers, though, it just means waking up, but on this side of the woods, that means waking up back in Olban’s world. We have to get back to mine. To ours.”
“You were having nightmares?”
Olban shook his head. “The woods you seem so familiar with aren’t just your dream. They contain all the dreams, of everyone. Here, this empty space is just the place between worlds, between the physical realm and the dream realm.The woods’ll materialise soon, we cross them and then they fade again as we enter the place between the dream and your world, but if those nightmares have got worse… We want to be protected. I suggest you protect yourself, too.”
“What do you mean, everyone?”
Olban tapped his chin for a second. “Think of the woods as the collective unconscious of the whole of humanity. Yes, humans have got a small amount of latent psychic ability, but that only usually manifests when they’re dreaming. They’re usually totally unaware of any dream but their own, but we’ve been crossing those woods all our lives, so we get a sneaky peek into what everyone else is dreaming about. We can even interact with them, but if it’s a nightmare, that is not advisable.”
“And I can dream up anything?”
“Yes. You could even turn yourself into a dragon if you wanted to.”
“Well, I’m not wearing that!” She closed her eyes again and a moment later, a bracelet covered in flickering lights appeared on her wrist.
“We said protect yourself, not invent a new piece of costume jewellery.”
“Go on, then. Shoot me with that blaster thing.”
“Seriously? This could cut a mountain in half!”
“Try me.”
Gareth shrugged. “OK, if you’re sure.” He raised his gun and with a zappy sound just like the one in Star Wars, a blue bold of energy shot out, bounced off her and vanished into the distance. “Personal force field? Clever. Think I’ll add that to this.” and in the blink of an eye, a flashing panel appeared on Gareth’s chest. “Double protection. Let’s get a move on, eh?”
They continued on their way, but before the first of the trees began to show themselves, another figure appeared in the distance. As it approached, Eloise inched back, to walk behind the other two. It was the wolf. It looked like the same one that’d… that she thought…
Olban sighed. “It’s alright, Eloise.”
“But it… it… killed me.”
“It did to you what it saw as necessary to protect everyone else. What you attempted to do could’ve caused untold damage to not just your friends, but to the world itself.”
“But it”
“He attempted to prevent the damage in the only way he could. He did also ask us to help. If he hadn’t, you’d still be standing in this void, mindless and naked. He won’t harm you again.”
Well said, Olban. Hello Gareth, Eloise. I trust your work was fruitful?
“The armband is complete, sir, if that’s what you mean but”
But things didn’t go quite according to plan, I know. For either of us. The balance has been disrupted more than we feared.
“Is that why we were attacked, sir?”
Yes.
“What exactly was Wellick? What was that thing that ate me?”
I suppose the best way to describe them is minions of the nameless one.
“Nameless one?” Gareth said with a yelp. “That doesn’t sound good. What the hell is a nameless one?”
When the universe was still very young, we emerged. How? We don’t know. We just… Appeared. Whether we were created by gods or just out of a necessity the universe required, we don’t know that, either, but each of us had a purpose. Some had a creative purpose, others a destructive one, but the nameless one chose a different path. It attempted to undo everything each of us tried to do. It wanted a return to the void, the state of things before the universe began. That was what it decided its purpose was. As time went on and we began to make progress, it became more violent ending with the death of one of us. The rest of us banded together, created a space for it with just what it claimed to want, an empty void and locked it away.
Gareth sighed. “And the last thing Wellick said was he’s coming. What happens if he does?”
He? That’s new. It never even chose a name for itself let alone a gender. When I said the balance must be restored, it was to prevent just this type of catastrophe.
“And if he does return?”
Chaos. And it’s… he’s just the type of petty minded, vindictive… He’s likely to start with the highest of our works. Worlds with life, with intelligent beings such as yourselves.
“He can’t be that much of a threat, can he? He doesn’t seem to be intelligent enough. We’ve encountered two of these minions so far and both were severely lacking in the brain department.”
His minions are something new. He only cared about destruction, so creating some proxy creatures to do his bidding is unusual for him. Clearly, he hasn’t mastered the art, yet. We don’t create life in the way he is. We allow nature to take its course and just prod it once in a while. We guide, we don’t force. These Wellicks are just his first attempts. Never underestimate then because they will become smarter as he grows in confidence.
Eloise finally plucked up the courage to poke her head around Gareth’s side. “But why are they targetting us?”
The wolf regarded her gravely. You were a very unusual and powerful being, Miss Parker. Six independent and distinct minds all sharing the same body? If you’d only realised just how special you were, you could’ve performed some amazing feats, but now? The balance is too fragile. Your attempt to murder one of your own, your betrayal is what allowed the barrier to weaken to the point he could force open a crack. It’s far too thin to allow him entry back into these worlds right now, but if you were to die before the balance could be restored, or worse, if you were to fall into his clutches, he could tear the world apart. That is why I had to do to you what I did. The only way to even begin to fix this, now, is to transport all of your compatriots to their respective worlds. Olban, Gareth, come. Eloise…. Stay.
Vellan turned and trotted away.
Gareth and Olban glanced art each other and jogged after the wolf. When they were a fair distance away, it stopped, turned and regarded them.
What we discuss now must not reach her ears. Is that understood?
Olban nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m fine with that. Why the secrecy?”
When your rings are complete, do not allow her to wear one until you’re travelling back to Olban’s world. I know I said she could travel back to her own but things have changed. She already has a physical presence there and another would only add to the disruption. When the rings are distributed and her compatriots have completed their journey, her body will die, because there will no longer be a mind to sustain it. Olban… She will have to take up permanent residence in your world. When you get back there, take her ring and destroy it. Ensure all rings attune themselves to the first wearer so they can never be used by anyone else, just in case she attempts to steal one of yours.
“Hmmm…” Olban looked down at the wolf with concern. “I’m not sure about the attune to one wearer thing, sir. In order to give the rings to her and her compatriots from Gareth’s world, he’ll need to wear all of them in order for them to travel with him.”
That may be, but he won’t be materialising himself. He has a body there. Make the attunement activate on materialisation. Gareth will appear in your world using the full power of the ring. Have it lock to him, then.
Olban nodded. “I see how that could be done, sir. One thing I don’t understand.”
Only one? Vellan’s voice took on an amused tone. Go on?
“You said there were many focussed on destruction as their purpose. Why not lock them all away?”
Creation and destruction are two sides to the same coin, as long as they abide by the rules the universe sets forth, Olban. If a star explodes, what happens?
Gareth chuckled. “He’d got you there, Olban. Heavier elements? We wouldn’t exist without iron, carbon, a few dozen other elements.”
Quite. The nameless one doesn’t want to just blow up the odd star, he wants to unmake the universe itself, and not just this one, but every corner of reality.
“But what do we tell her?”
I’m sure you’ll be able to come up with something. Just, don’t tell her the truth until her ring no longer functions. I suggest you get on your way, I have a lot of work to do. Be careful crossing the woods. Oh, and be on your guard. There may be minions anywhere, including Gareth’s world, now.
And with that, the wolf vanished.
“What was all that about?” She demanded, the moment they got back to her.
Olban shrugged. “It’s technical. A final modification to the rings, in order to prevent interference from that… thing. Also a warning, he said the woods were getting more dangerous. Come on, we’d better get going.”
* * *
Even before the misty forms of the trees had solidified, it became evident something had changed. They no longer stood erect, proud. Instead, they were twisted, deformed and the more solid they became, the more sinister they appeared. Their branches seemed to reach out to grab them as they passed, their leaves were black. In fact, everything about then was black.
“I see what he means about being careful, now.” Gareth said, staring around uneasily. “It looks like something from bloody Scooby Doo.”
Before he’d even completed the sentence, a man appeared, eyes wide with terror, bolting through the woods at right angles to them. A few seconds later, a misty form floating three feet off the ground appeared, clearly chasing him. It let out a blood curdling howl and vanished into the woods.
Olban sighed. “At least the last time, the nightmares were benign or distant enough not to matter. We’d better hurry. The quicker we’re through, the better.” He increased his pace.
At the brow of a hill, the trees began to thin and down below on the other side, a city street appeared. Rubble, shattered windows, huge holes in some of the buildings. A man in camouflage uniform stalked rounded a corner and froze as an old woman approached. She said something that clearly upset him and held something out to him. He raised his rifle and fired. She slumped to the ground. He stared at the body for a few seconds, shaking his head. He appeared to be weeping. Then, he turned tail and ran.
Olban sighed. “At least some of them appear to realise what they’re doing is wrong, if they’re having nightmares about it.”
“What was that? Was that”
Gareth cut her off. “A Russian soldier. Yes. I wonder if that’s Kiev or one of the other cities.”
“I really don’t think it matters. I suggest we run until this one’s gone.”
“But we’re protected, aren’t we?”
“And if a missile strikes one of those buildings and buries us? We might not be hurt, but we would still be trapped.”
Olban and Gareth bolted and Eloise was hot on their heals, dodging around mounds of rubble, they reached an intersection, stopped at the corner to peer around it and continued. A few explosions could be heard in the distance, but clearly, the worst of it was wherever that soldier had run off to.
“How do you know it wasn’t the old woman’s nightmare rather than the soldier’s?”
“If the woman had died, this entire nightmare would’ve ended. She would’ve vanished. She didn’t. The nightmare’s still here, so, it was clearly the soldier.”
Eventually, the streets began to fade away and the trees replaced them again. Still covered in black leaves, but much straighter than the first they’d encountered.
A man standing on a hill as a mushroom cloud erupted in the distance. Fire swept the landscape turning him into ash in an instant. The whole scene vanished a moment later. A woman fleeing the transparent outlines of a shop with a security guard in hot pursuit. A man strapped to an electric chair. A flip of the switch, a lot of smoke and screams and that nightmare ended, too. They skirted dozens of them, avoiding trouble in each one before the trees began to fade and the between reappeared. They hadn’t encountered a single pleasant dream.
It wasn’t long before Olban and Eloise began to fade, too. As the armour became more transparent, it was clear the armband wasn’t.
“You’re both fading. What happened when you’re gone, Olban?”
“Pick the armband up and put it on the wrist you don’t wear your watch on. I don’t know what’ll happen if you put it on the other wrist. Two objects sharing the same space, I doubt the results would be good.”
“That’s a damned good thought. I hadn’t considered that.”
“I guessed. That’s why I said it.”
They continued and before long, there was a clatter as the armband fell to the floor. Gsreth picked it up, snapped it onto his left wrist and continued on his way. At first, it felt too big for him, but as he continued, it began to feel snug against his skin. He looked at it in amazement.
That’s another thing I considered, Gareth. I am more muscular than you, after all. Comes with the work. It’ll always adjust itself to the wearer.
* * *
Gareth woke, stretched, sat up on the camp bed and glanced at his wrist with a grin. He held it up so they could see it. “It worked!” Then, he shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, bloody hell! I suppose I should count myself lucky I didn’t wet the bed, and bloody hell, I’m famished.”
He dashed upstairs to the toilet, glancing at his watch as he went. It was nine at night.
Project verity the original cut: style guidelines.
Writing conventions.
Can we all agree on a few little rules to help keep the chapters consistent?
1: Keep it past tense third person. When Whitewolf posted the present tense piece it really jarred and it didn’t follow from the rest of the chapters. That’s been fixed, now.
2: Internal and external voices.
Follow this example. This is when Gareth’s in his own body in his world. Olban is the one stuck in the back of his mind.
Wake up.
Gareth Wilks groaned and rolled over.
Wake up, Gareth.
He groaned again and squinted at the glowing green numbers on his bedside table. It took a minute for him to focus. “For god’s sake, Olban! It’s five in the fu”
It’s dawn! Dawn is the correct time to get up! We have a lot to do today.
Gareth collapsed back onto his back. “And you really think it’s going to work?”
Of course. One more day, and you can get up whenever you like. I won’t be stuck in the back of your mind here, you won’t be stuck in the back of mine when I’m home and everything will be right in both worlds. We’ll be free of each other.
And this is when Olban's the physical being and Gareth and Eloise are stuck in the back of his mind, in his world.
What the fuck is that thing? Echoed in his head. The tone of Gareth’s voice indicated a mixture of awe and terror.
“It’s obviously still Wellick. What Wellick is, that’s a different matter. I think he’s turned himself into a mountain troll, this time. I knew he was an idiot but”
How do you know he’s an idiot? What about Bobby? Eloise’s voice had a petulant air. Indignant. Possibly even insulted.
Olban sighed. “As Gareth said, we’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. You are in a completely different reality. A reality in which magic works. Clearly, this… this Wellick has the ability to read minds! Why you didn’t pick up on that when he answered you back’s beyond me! I didn’t say it, did I? You have to start thinking. It couldn’t be Bobby. There was absolutely no way it could be, so don’t fall for anymore of that bullshit again, OK?”
In other words, for external voices, quotes and non-itallic. For internal, no quotes, but don’t italicise the action or dialogue tags.
Please follow these guidelines. If you have any suggestions of your own to make the process smoother, don’t hesitate to drop a comment. If you disagree with anything, again, comments. I think this is a sensible approach as it distinguishes between voices that are heard by everyone rather than just Gareth, Eloise and Olban.