Out of Time (The Adventures of Eric and Ursula Book 4)
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The Adventures of Eric and Ursula
Book 4 – Out Of Time
A.D. Winch
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This work is registered with the UK Copyright Service (UKCS):
Registration No: 292412
Published by A.D. Winch, 2015
1st edition
Text copyright A.D. Winch, 2015
Book Cover image copyright K.J. Winch, 2015
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eReader Edition, Licence Notes
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Contents
Chapter 1 – Back down to Earth
Chapter 2 – The Letter
Chapter 3 – Status Report
Chapter 4 – The Meyer Files
Chapter 5 – The Memorial Service
Chapter 6 – More Questions than Answers
Chapter 7 - Transfusion
Chapter 8 – Alien History
Chapter 9 – Stalkers
Chapter 10 - A Clean Sweep
Chapter 11 – As Light as a Paper Bag
Chapter 12 – Collecting Modern Art
Chapter 13 – Split-up
Chapter 14 – Losing the Tail
Chapter 15 – Across the Atlantic
Chapter 16 - Last Flight
Chapter 17 - A Gift to the Gods
Chapter 18- Disruption
Chapter 19 - On Enemy Soil
Chapter 20 - In the Confusion
Chapter 21 - Old Friends
Chapter 22 - The Beached Whale
Chapter 23 - Fight to the End
Chapter 24 - A Meeting of Minds
Chapter 25 - Taking Flight
Chapter 26 - Ghost Town
Chapter 27 - Underground
Chapter 28 - Tracking Malfunction
Chapter 29 - Back to Roswell
Chapter 30 - Diary Entries
Chapter 31 - The Beacon
Chapter 32 - Makeshift Graves
Chapter 33 - The Orange State
Chapter 34 - Forty-Five Notches
Chapter 35 - The Future Mrs Schwarzkopf
Chapter 36 - Back to Roswell
Chapter 37 - Taken Care Of
Chapter 38 - School Bags
Review
About the author
Other books by A.D. Winch on Smashwords
Connect with me online
Preview of forthcoming books
Acknowledgements
Note from the author
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Chapter 1 – Back down to Earth
Air burst into the plane's cabin as the door opened and sucked the passengers towards it. Johan held tight to a bar above his head as the wind pushed and pulled. Behind him, Eric breathed in the smell of aeroplane fuel. It was an aroma that reminded him of happy times with his parents. Ursula didn't notice it; she was too busy looking out of the open door at the thick white clouds that engulfed them.
The plane continued to rise, and the three passengers checked their equipment one last time. Parachutes were strapped to their backs and securely fastened around their bodies. The stretched suit with tight straps that Johan was wearing made him look like a skeleton. In spite of this, he was grinning like a baby. Eric and Ursula's clothes were different. They wore wingsuits that hung off of their bodies like great flaps of skin.
Finally, the plane broke through the mist, and an untouched blue sky spread out as far as they could see.
"Remember to head back the way we came," began Johan. "I'll meet you at the landing site."
Before the children had a chance to reply, the old man took a step towards the door and dropped out of the plane.
Ursula craned her neck forward to look outside. She saw an orange chute open above the clouds before it sank below. She gulped, and wondered how Eric and Johan had convinced her to do this.
Eric nudged her in the back and received a stern look.
"Come on, you need to go," Eric encouraged. "Open your wingsuit as soon as you have cleared the plane. You'll fly!"
It was an easy thing to say, but Ursula did not have the same relaxed attitude as Eric about falling four thousand metres towards Earth. She adjusted her helmet and put her goggles over her eyes.
Ursula thought about jumping from the roof of her block in Saint-Denis onto her grandparents' balcony. Jumping from a plane was no different, she told herself, and yet she could not make herself believe it.
If she kept analysing what she was about to do, she would never take the leap. Much to Eric's surprise she suddenly launched herself backwards out of the cabin. She fell towards the clouds, looking upwards as wind whipped around her. The plane was soon a few hundred metres away and continued its ascent, but Eric had not yet jumped. When they had planned this, they had been quite firm – Johan would go first, followed by Ursula and then Eric immediately after. Where was he?
Maybe Eric had got cold feet, she thought, but found the idea unlikely. Anyhow, there was no use worrying about Eric now. She had to worry about herself.
Ursula spun as she fell and righted herself, so that she faced the clouds below. She extended her arms behind her and spread her feet wide. The flaps of her yellow wingsuit opened up between her shoulders and waist, as did the material between her legs. Her initial fear had vanished, and as she glided across the top of the clouds, only the speed of the air against her face stopped her from laughing. She was flying through the sky completely alone; unaware of space or time and loving it.
Gradually, she slid into the mist and was soon flying through fog. She knew that she was safe, but the sudden white-out made her uneasy. The altimeter on her wrist read '2634.' Another five hundred metres or so, and she would be through it. Her descent continued, and she kept looking at her wrist, willing the number to reduce quicker. When it read '2223,' the cloud started to thin, and she saw hints of blue below. Wisps of mist unfurled around her, and then she was through. The dark blue Mediterranean Sea appeared before her eyes, and in the distance she could see a beach leading to a village and green, tree-covered hills beyond. In the valley between two of these was her landing spot.
Ursula relaxed and enjoyed the thrill of shooting across the sky like a rocket. The beach and village rapidly approached and in the blink of an eye she had passed overhead. She noticed many sunbathers staring up and pointing at her from the thin strip of sand. If she could have done, she would have waved. According to the instructions that she had clearly been given, it was now time to release the parachute. The rip cord draped over her right shoulder, and she pulled it hard. There was a noise like the crinkling of paper, and then she was yanked backwards. For a short while, she swung like a pendulum in the air then came to rest under the chute. Her flying was over, and she gently floated towards the dusty football pitch that had been marked for their landing.
Johan was already there. His orange chute was still draped over one corner of the field. He was sat on the penalty spot, waving to her as she circled towards the centre of the pitch.
Just before she was about to hit the ground, she pulled both toggles on her parachute. There was a brief uplift, and she stepped onto the dirt as if she was walking down the stairs.
A man ran towards her.
"That was a pe
rfect landing. You're a natural," he told her warmly and began to undo her straps. His native Greek accented his English as he spoke. "Where's Eric?"
"I don't know, Luca. I think he may have got scared."
Luca was not convinced and scanned the sky while Ursula removed her wingsuit. They both stared upwards as a red speck emerged from the clouds.
"He's gone too high," Luca muttered to himself in Greek.
It was at this moment that Ursula knew what Eric was about to do.
"No!" she said involuntarily and willed Eric to open his parachute but she knew that he wouldn't.
She ran away from Luca, past Johan and jumped onto a rented mountain bike. As she cycled away from the pitch, she glanced up and saw Eric high above. He did a long arc in the sky and headed back out towards the sea.
It was hot on the ground, but Ursula did not notice as she steered the bike onto a rocky path that led into the hills. Her legs pumped hard and in spite of the slope she gained speed. She allowed herself a look over her shoulder. Eric was already past the village and heading further out above the sea.
Ursula's yellow vest top stuck to her, and a patch of sweat grew between her shoulder blades. When she reached the highest point of the hill, she jumped off the bike and flung it to the ground. She looked out across the green forest; over the terracotta roofs of the tightly packed village of Parga and out to sea.
In the distance, Eric began to arc back around until he was facing the beach.
"This is suicide. You'll never land safely. Pull your chute!" Ursula insisted, but she knew that he wasn't listening to her. Eric knew what he wanted to do, and nobody was going to stop him.
The holidaymakers on the beach began to sit up and take notice.
"Pull the chute," Ursula repeated, but her words were wasted. It was too late.
Eric was approximately five hundred metres above the ocean and adjusting his body position. Rather than flying horizontally he was coming in like an aeroplane; his head was raised like the plane's nose, and his feet lowered like the tail.
Ursula watched. Eric was about a kilometre away from the shore line and only three hundred metres above the waves. The parachute remained unopened on his back.
Two hundred and fifty metres, two hundred, one hundred and fifty, one hundred…
Ursula put her hands to her mouth and found herself praying as Eric shot past a small island in the bay.
One hundred metres, eighty, sixty, forty, twenty, ten, five…
At two metres about the water, Eric wobbled but managed to correct himself. His feet brushed against the waves and, as his toes dipped below the surface, his speed reduced. A white trail followed him like a speed boat, and it looked as if he was hovering across the water.
I'm going to do it, Eric thought and prepared for landing.
His knees touched the waves, and then he dropped his whole body onto the ocean. He skimmed across the surface, sending great plumes of spray into the air around him. Salty, sea water splashed over his head, and within a few metres he came to a stop. His soaking suit was heavy and pulled him downwards, but Eric didn't care. He treaded water, punching the surface with delight and feeling the best he had ever felt.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" he shouted at the top of his voice.
A few minutes later, a bald man in a blow-up dinghy approached Eric. He looked shocked that the boy was still alive and spoke urgently to him in Greek. Eric just smiled and put his thumb up to show that he was okay. Once placated, the man helped Eric into his little boat and rowed him towards the shore.
People clapped as Eric walked through the shallow water and onto the sand. He waved to them after removing his helmet and goggles. A victory passage was created as he walked along the crescent bay towards the hotel. People on both sides of him patted his back, or shook his hand or clapped.
The walk took him much longer than usual, but he didn't care. By the time he reached Ursula's grandparents, he was feeling on top of the world. They were sitting on sun loungers under a parasol at one end of the beach. Mémé was busy knitting and was not distracted by the noise accompanying Eric's arrival. Only when she missed a stitch did she look up.
"What are you doing in those wet clothes? You'll catch a death of cold. Take them off," she told him in French and returned to her knitting.
Eric laughed and turned to Granddad Benjamin, "What did you think?"
Granddad Benjamin grinned, "It was one of the most incredible things I have ever seen." He leant forward and whispered in Eric's ear, "But you had better not tell Mémé. She didn't see it and, if she had, she would probably kill you."
"What are you saying, Jerome?" Mémé asked, even though she was still knitting.
"I'm telling Eric to do as you said and to get out of his wet clothes. I'll help him."
"Just going, Mémé," Eric said in French and walked off with Granddad Benjamin.
They had only walked a few metres when a bike skidded onto the sand. Ursula ran towards them and blocked their path.
"Hello, my love," Granddad Benjamin greeted.
Ursula did not reply. She stepped towards Eric and slapped him hard across the face. Eric remained rooted to the spot. He knew that Ursula was angry, but he hadn't expected her to slap him. It must have been an impulsive action otherwise he was sure that he would have sensed it and ducked. He opened his mouth to speak but, before any words came out she slapped him again. He hadn't expected that one either.
"Wh, wh, wh…," stuttered Eric.
"It's a bucket list, Eric," Ursula fumed. "Not a death wish list!"
She burst into tears and stormed off.
"I had better go and see what's wrong," Granddad Benjamin sighed and slowly walked after Ursula.
Eric was left by himself. His bubble had been burst, and suddenly all he felt was wet and cold.
Granddad Benjamin followed Ursula off the beach and into the hilly garden next to the hotel. There were flowers beside the path, but he shuffled past them until he reached his granddaughter. She was sat behind a tree with her back resting against the trunk. Her head was down, and she was breathing deeply.
"What's the matter, little miss?" Granddad Benjamin asked, sitting down on the sandy path in front of her.
Ursula didn't answer.
"Come on. Tell me."
Ursula silently fumed.
"A problem shared is a problem halved."
Ursula did not move, but her granddad continued to wait patiently. He wiped the sand from one of the path's broken slabs and admired the flowers nearby.
Gradually, Ursula's head rose, and she looked up at him. She had stopped crying, but her cheeks were streaked where the tears had run, and her eyes were blood-shot.
"Alexander and Andrea have run more tests on us. They see no real difference in our bodies. They make us drink horrible plankton gloop, but Alexander says, 'it will only delay the inevitable.' They are now taking blood from us and storing it in the sun to keep it at the same age as when they took it. At some point in the future, they are going to put this blood back into our bodies, but Alexander says, 'it will only delay the inevitable.' The only solution they can think of is to find some Alien DNA and use this to help us. But even that may only delay the inevitable.
"Johan made us write a bucket list – a list of things we want to do before we die. Alexander didn't want us to do it, and I wasn't sure, but you encouraged me to do it too. All the time I could only think of one thing."
"What's that, darling?"
"To live," her eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to die."
Granddad Benjamin took her hand and held it tenderly.
"But Eric doesn't care. Today just shows it. He's reckless and stupid."
"Or fearless and clever? It depends on how you look at it. What he did today was not something he could have made up on the spot." He then added guiltily, "He had to have planned it."
Ursula pulled her hand away, "Don't defend him!"
"I was just trying to explain," Granddad Benjamin said calmly.
"I want my bucket list to contain things that I can do as I grow older. Not things that I must do over the next few months. I want to live, and I don't want to throw my life away like Eric. If he kills himself then where does that leave me? Could I find alien DNA by myself if that's what I have to do?"
Granddad Benjamin folded his arms and looked at his granddaughter. In a few years, she would be a young woman. He was certain of this fact but even so, he feared for her and Eric's future.
"Alexander and Andrea are working hard to find a cure," he said.
"But they are not finding one, are they?"
Granddad Benjamin shook his head slowly. "You're right. Tonight over dinner, I'll bring it up, and we'll see what everyone says. For the time being, why don't you wipe your eyes and head back to your room. I'll get Mémé, and we'll meet you there," he paused and looked Ursula in the eyes. "We'll find a way to make sure that you live a long and happy life. I promise."
Back to Contents
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Chapter 2 – The Letter
The postman knocked on the door and waited. It was early, but the sun was already up, and the temperature was rapidly rising. Usually, he would not have started his round in Saint-Denis, but he wanted to leave here before most of the residents woke. He knocked again. No one came, and he put his ear to the wood. There was no sound inside the apartment.
In his hand, he held a package that had come from Spain. It had slipped to the bottom of his bag, and over the last two weeks he had ignored it. Inside the package was a small object that slid around. The envelope was addressed to Karim 'Jason' Dilem who, according to the neat script, lived here. He knocked one last time and then walked away. As he reached the end of the corridor, he heard a door opening. A very tall man stepped out from his apartment. He wore a pair of Bermuda shorts but nothing else. In spite of the hot summer, he was as pale as a ghost with red spots dotted over his face.
"Hey man, why did you wake me up?" he spoke fast, gesticulating wildly as he did so.