1031: Chapter 14

It was dark. The low murmur of the guy talking about some play on the radio was putting me to sleep — particularly when coupled with the hum of the engine and the pattering of the rain on the windscreen and the roof. It was fairly peaceful, but the back seat wasn’t very comfortable and I was starting to feel my usual sensation of travel sickness. I wasn’t sure when I started getting it, but it was always unpleasant. It just made me want to curl up in a corner and groan, and that’s not really practical when you’re sitting in the back of a car — not least because my mother usually told me to sit up. I found myself wishing she treated me according to my age. Legally, I was an adult, but she would never seem to quite get that into her head.

I closed my eyes. The car gave an occasional bump on uneven parts of the road, but the motion was mostly fairly relaxing.

“So, did you have a good time?” I heard my mother’s voice saying. “You look exhausted. Hope you didn’t spend all your time drinking and carousing.”

“No,” I grunted, in a vain attempt to try and close off the conversation before it began. I really wasn’t in the mood.

“So what was the best bit?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “It was all pretty fun.”

I was going to think back on what had occurred over the last few days, but the bubbling feeling in my stomach wasn’t going away, so I just found myself thinking about that. Thinking about it didn’t help, of course, since focusing on it just made the feelings worse. The more conscious I was of them, the more I thought I was going to throw up. I tried to think about something — anything — else.

“Oh, come on, Jan,” said my father slightly irritably. “Can’t you see he’s knackered? Let him rest. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, and I’m sure we can talk about it in the morning.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” said my mother in a mock-flustered tone, as if she had somehow offended me with her questions. “I’ll shut up.”

My father didn’t rise to her bait, and instead turned the radio up. Whatever it was the voice was talking about was terribly boring, but I was thankful for the distraction — both for my own gurgling stomach and from my mother’s incessant questioning. She never did quite know when to stop.

A few minutes passed, and no-one except the droning bore on the radio said anything. Eventually his programme came to an end, and it was time for the news. The radio gave the distinctive “pips” that signalled it was on the hour, and the newsreader announced that it was two o’ clock in the morning. I didn’t really listen to the bulletin; the smooth, soothing voice of the female newsreader washed over me and made me relax.

Patterns swirled behind my eyes. I recognised this as a sure sign I was tired. I knew that if I opened my eyes again, those patterns would still be there; hypnotic, washing over my vision. I focused on them, trying to make sense of them, and felt my consciousness slowly, gradually drifting away. I was falling asleep at last. Hopefully by the time I woke up again, we’d be home and I could just get into bed.

I don’t know how long I slept for, but I was awoken with a start by a sudden noise. It was my mother screaming. My eyes snapped open, but it took a moment for me to figure out what was going on. My mother was frantically grabbing for the steering wheel and there, in the driver’s seat, where my father should have been… was no-one at all. At least, that’s what it seemed like.

I blinked, and he was back again, wrestling with the wheel. But it was too late. The car was in a skid, and it was heading for the barrier at the side of the road. I didn’t know what was beyond it as it was still dark, but I had a bad feeling.

The car, which was still moving at a fair speed, crashed straight through the barrier and into the blackness beyond. I felt the world spin sideways, and I knew that there was a drop beyond the barrier. I didn’t know how big it was or how long we would fall, but I knew that we were probably not coming back from it.

My stomach felt like it was in my mouth as the car went into freefall, still spinning and rolling in the air. The world felt like it was in slow motion. I wanted to look around, to work out what was going on, but I couldn’t — I was being thrown around too much.

I couldn’t hear anything. I was sure my mother and father were both screaming in terror at the inevitable fate that seemed to await us, but somehow everything seemed to be muted; a silent, frightening world with no future.

The last sounds I heard were shattering glass, crumpling metal and the sickening crunch of bones. The pain that shot through my body left me in no doubt that at least some of those cracking bones were my own.

I blacked out. And didn’t wake up.

*

I came to on the floor of my bedroom. I was lying face-down with my mouth open; my tongue was covered in bits of carpet. I was breathing quickly and my heart was racing. I felt something wet on my face and wondered if I’d hurt myself in the fall from my bed, but I was too afraid to move. I just lay there motionless on the floor for a moment, trying desperately to tell my mind and body that what I had experienced was just a dream, just a dream, just a dream.

I closed my eyes and tried to take some deep breaths, but just ended up inhaling some dust and fluff from the carpet. I coughed a little, and the spasms were enough to “unlock” my body and let me move. Slowly, gradually, I pushed myself up off the floor and knelt up. My room was dark, again illuminated only by the glow of the clock radio. I looked up towards the source of the light, more out of habit now than anything. For once, it didn’t read 2:30.

That meant I couldn’t go and see Alice. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to right now, anyhow, but I was feeling scared and very alone.

I hauled myself up onto the bed and pulled myself back under the covers. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling.

That was a bad dream, I thought. The worst I’ve ever had. It felt so real. Like I was actually there. Like it was a memory. But it couldn’t be a memory, because…

Because that was what happened to Alice, and not me.

Except…

In Alice’s world, I was the one who had been in that situation. I was the one who had failed to come home that night. I was the one who had…

This didn’t make sense. Was that dream a work of my own imagination, or something else? Could it be a memory from that other world?

No, of course it couldn’t. I wasn’t from that other world, so how could I possibly have any memories from it? I certainly couldn’t have the memory of the moment that Iost my life.

It must be my imagination, I thought. It must be.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep until morning. All I managed to do was stare at the inside of my eyelids for several hours.

*

Once the sun was up, I groggily got out of bed and trudged downstairs to get myself some breakfast, which would consist mostly of a very large, very strong cup of coffee.

My phone rang while I was nursing the cup of hot liquid. It was Laura.

“You all right?” she asked immediately.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I growled.

“You don’t sound fine,” she said. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Just didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

“Oh,” she said. “All right. Hey, listen, you want to do something today?”

“Huh?”

“Do you want to go out and do something? I figured you could probably do with a change of scenery. Fancy going to the pictures or something?”

I hadn’t been to the cinema for probably a good three or four years. The people there annoyed me. I wanted to watch a film, not grit my teeth at people fiddling with phones, eating sweets noisily and laughing at bits of the film that weren’t funny.

“Yeah, all right,” I found myself saying. “Why not?”

“Okay,” she said brightly. “I’ll come pick you up in an hour or so. Be ready!”

“All right,” I said. “See ya.”

She hung up. I drained my coffee cup and put some bread in the toaster. I still felt exhausted from events of the previous day. It had been emotionally and physically tiring, and that awful dream hadn’t helped either. I still didn’t know what it meant, and was in two minds as to whether or not I should bring it up with Laura. After a bit of internal arguing, I decided that she’d probably get it out of me eventually anyway, so for a quiet life, I should probably just tell her. I would pick my moment carefully, though. No sense telling her before the film; she’d only spend the rest of it worrying, then.

“Urgh,” I said out loud to no-one in particular, leaning my head down on the table. “I’m so tired.”

I was no nearer to any answers on what the meaning of this whole “alternate existences” thing, and the strange figure hadn’t showed up again to offer any further explanations. I resolved that it would probably be sensible to try and forget about it all just for today, and to try and relax and have a good time with Laura.

I smiled to myself in spite of the exhaustion I was feeling. Yes, that was probably the right thing to do. I’d enjoy myself today, then we could worry about things afterwards. I’d earned that much. I deserved a break.

Unfortunately, I already knew for a fact that the moment you start thinking you “deserve” a break is the moment all possibility of actually getting a break departs forever.