Disconnected (Connected series Book 1)

by N. P. Francis

  “Well?” I said. “Was his blog helpful or not?” I was genuinely interested as I had known Barney for years and found it hard to read his blog objectively. I could hear him talking as I read it. I also often knew who he had climbed with the day he wrote the blogs by the way they were written.

  “Spot on,” said Amy. “The directions here, the walk in, were all linked perfectly. We just docked my phone in my Whiz, clicked the link in Barney’s blog and the Whiz drove us right to the car park. The 3D map on Chase’s phone popped up in seconds to show us the walk in. The climbing, the crag is as described but I will read the Vala write up again to see what that’s like compared to the actual climb now that we’ve done it.”

  Barney beamed. One of the main successes with his blog was making it as easy as possible for people to find their way to the climbs. He spent as much effort embedding GPS data into his blog as he spent on the descriptions. The descriptions were superb. He’d had blogging awards for his writing.

  Once we got back to the car park we chose a pub, our local! Amy and Chase put the pubs GPS into the Whiz and set off. I kept the van in manual. I preferred to drive and not be driven. It’s a control thing, I’m told. At the pub I found Amy and Chase were just as good at helping put the world to rights as we were. Two good new friends. Our local pub was near Stu’s mum's place so he could go back to his mum if she needed him. Barney and I had an unofficial crash pad in their spare bedroom which had often served us well and which I had used for a week while Carla moved out of our flat. Amy and Chase lived in the next village over and had moved there about a year earlier. Amy, as it turns out, was a personal trainer which explained how athletic she looked. Chase worked at Exeter Uni researching South American Rrehistory. The nail polish she was wearing was something she had been trying to replicate from a substance they had found on a female mummies’ fingernails. Cool but a little creepy. Chase had met Barnacle at the Uni while he had been collecting some graphene climbing aids for testing. She’d wondered what the strange clam devices he was carrying were.

  “They’re called Friends.” Barnacle had said, “They’re your best friend for climbing, used for attaching your rope to the cliff. The clam jams into a crack in the rock and the harder you pull the harder the friend grips the rock. Ever tried climbing?” He could be quite evangelical about climbing. That was just after Christmas. Now in late summer Amy and Chase had got the bug thanks to Barney.

  Now these new friends, the human kind, were deep in conversation with us. I was steadfastly avoiding anything too personal. I didn’t trust myself to not do something really silly, like break down or look for some kind of rebound thing. That could ruin this new group dynamic. But when I learned that Chase was studying South American Prehistory I couldn’t help getting a little excited. I’d read many books on my travels about the Inca, megalithic structures and similar. Some books had been fairly hammy and did not stand scrutiny. The Fuente Magna bowl for example; which at one time was believed to be evidence of an ancient alien culture as the writing on it looked Egyptian, but it was found in South America. It is now it’s believed to be a fake.

  Chase and I ended up in a deep conversation to the point where it was only as the others were saying goodbye and Stu was checking I had a key pass to his place that we realised the time. As the others left Chase turned the tables on me. “So, you’ve been asking all about me and what I do for hours. I know you climb, grew up here with Stu and love your van but what else? What do you do?”

  This posed a question for me. What do I do? Am I a salesman? Everything in my DNA was shouting, ‘NO!’ If I was not a salesman then I must be something else. Sales was what I was doing to earn money right now. Good money too if I could close four or more sales a week.

  “I’m between things right now,” I said.

  “Does that mean unemployed?” Chase asked rather quizzically. Unemployment was now very rare with the growth in deep data analysis and the ability to work from anywhere. The sheer volume of data coming in from the space telescopes, microwave arrays and the multitude of moon scopes on inhabitable planets was mind blowing. Still, no radio waves or any other proof of any other intelligent life had been found in the 1.5 million plus Goldilocks planets that had been found. But the most exciting thing was that three had been found within ten light years, with current tech that still meant a manned mission would take thirty years. However, joint China and ESA mission had launched two years ago with five probes. The first was due to arrive in orbit around ‘Big Bear’ in the next six weeks and probes around ‘Mama Bear’ and ‘Baby Bear’ were due about four weeks after that. The hype had been building since launch, it seemed everyone on the planet was gripped by this, it dominated SM and traditional news.

  “No, I’m actually working in sales right now. But don’t judge me on that.” I could not believe the difference I felt saying I worked in sales compared to when I used to say ‘I’m an adventure sports guide’ or when I used to say I was a ‘salesman’ when I was with Clara.

  At this point, I would like to say that I respect the sales profession. It was the hardest job I’d ever done in terms of relentless pursuit. I’d met many fantastic salespeople, and I learned that to be successful you must believe in what you are selling. As it turns out closing a deal is also another very useful skill I learned in those few months.

  “Why do you say that?” Asked Chase looking a bit confused.

  “I was, until the end of last year, an adventure sports guide. You know, climbing like we did today, trek leading and white water raft guiding. For reasons I’m currently reviewing, I ended up back here working in sales,” I replied whitewashing over the real reason.

  “Wow. That sounds like a hell of a switch. Why are you ‘reviewing’? It sounds like you must've had a compelling reason to make such a lifestyle change. The sports guiding thing sounds awesome.”

  “It was, is, was. I don’t know. At the moment I’m confused. The reason I moved back has gone. It has left me questioning a lot.”

  As I remember there was a long pause while I looked at my drink. The ale in front of me was tasting bitter sweet. And not just because it was a summer lemongrass special. I looked at my watch. 12.30am Sunday morning.

  “Balls!” I exclained a bit too loudly. “Do you know the time? The others left over an hour ago. Shit, how are you getting home?”

  “I told Amy I’d walk. It’s only about forty-five minutes and out here away from the street lights I can look at the stars and maybe see a badger. I’ve seen plenty of foxes, owls and deer but no badgers yet.”

  I realised that I had never seen a live badger even after all my years living in the countryside, I had only ever seen badgers on the side of the road after they’d met their end in front of a car or tractor. I also realised that that wasn’t that funny and decided not to finish my pint. It was mostly done anyway.

  Coming to a decision I said “You’re not walking home alone on my watch, I’ll walk you back. I could do with the walk anyway. Clear my head. I’ll just visit the gents, if that’s OK? Not that I’ll visit the gents, that’ll walk you home.” Man, I should have stopped drinking a pint ago. I was sounding really stupid now. Not a professional guide at work at all!

  “Okay,” Chased said actually trying not to laugh. I think my face had gone red.

  About five minutes later we left the pub after Nick, the landlord, had unlocked the door. We turned right and passed the church where I knew my parents would be in about nine hours. That sent a sobering shudder down my spine and reminded me to be a gentleman. As we walked out of the village the low level LED street lighting faded away and we were very fortunate to have a crescent moon on a clear night which accentuated the brilliance of the stars. At about one hundred and fifty metres above sea level there was a lot of atmosphere so they were not as brilliant as those I’d seen in the high Alps, Pyrenees or Himalayas but for Devon they were spectacular.

  Chase, it turns out, is a bit of an amateur astronomer. As we walked she did not pry furth
er into my reasons for reviewing my life choices. I have never thanked her for that. Instead she talked about the stars and constellations; the upcoming probe encounters with the three bears and her studies.

  “I got into astronomy when I was studying the Nazca Lines in Peru. The same as many before me I was determined to find a link between the stars, constellations and the lines or zoomorphic images they link. I even tried linking them as the stars would have been considered against astronomical precession. Nothing.”

  “So would you consider the lines out of place artefacts?” I said trying to sound intelligent by referencing the term I had read recently in the article about Puma Punku. Chase just stopped and looked at me.

  “I’m a scientist,” she said rather bluntly. “That term is not considered appropriate within objective scientific circles.” I looked at her rather shocked. Up until that point Chase had come across as fairly meek but confident. Quiet I suppose. The force and assurance behind that statement led me to believe that she had a backbone of steel and knew her own mind.

  “Wow apologies,” I said, quickly explaining about the article and the way the term I’d used neatly described to me, a layman, a neat way of categorising artefacts that had not yet been fully understood.

  Chase conceded this point. I got the impression that the force behind her statement had not been filtered by her internal editor. May be she had had one too many drinks as well?

  We stood in silence for a while looking up into the stars that could be seen above the Devon hedgerows. There was a light warm night breeze blowing in our faces. Suddenly I heard a light scuffling in the hedge about four metres in front of us. I quickly nudged Chase with my left elbow while I put my right index finger to my lips. I then pointed forward. As we stood there a badger about the size of a corgi slid down the bank and silently wandered across the road. Rather unexpectedly I sneezed. The badger froze briefly and looked at us. The wind had been in our favour and due to our momentary pause in conversation it had had no idea we were there. We all stood stock still staring at each other. Without warning the badger shot up the bank on the other side of the road. An Olympic sprinter would have been proud of that start. Seconds later Chase and I were laughing and jumping up and down together. Before we knew it we were jumping up and down in each other's arms. Our eyes met and we just stood there still again and in silence staring into each other's eyes. To say that moment was intense would be an understatement. I could feel fate conspiring. I had flashes of alternate futures run before my eyes. I had to let her go. So I did.

  “That was awesome,” I said. “I’ve never seen a live badger in all the years I’ve lived here.”

  “What?! Really?” said Chase as she was shaken out of the moment. “I’ve seen loads on the sides of the roads”

  “That’s all we normally see!”

  “Oh.”

  The moment had now truly past.

  We walked on to Chase and Amy’s house enjoying the stars until we hit the LED glow of her village street lights. It turned out Chase had never had the chance to visit South America either. We discussed in detail where we wanted to go. The rainforest and Bolivia were my top two. The rainforest and the Nazca Lines were Chase’s choices. We were finding more and more things in common and really hitting it off, even as we sobered up. We reached her house, an early 21st century affordable living two-bed semi. In other words just enough space to swing a cat, next to no storage, a garden the size of a postage stamp and parking for one car. No luxuries or space for them.

  I felt like some kind of 20th century buffoon walking her up to the front door. Next I’d be opening it for her. We stood on the step. It was now 3 am, just before the morning glow would start appearing in the sky. Realising we were stood in silence staring at our feet we both looked up at the same time and smiled at each other.

  “Do you want to come in?” Asked Chase.

  The short answer was yes. I remembered the sobering feeling of seeing my parents’ church and my moral compass kicked in. I also did not want to mislead this woman.

  “No… and yes,” I said. “Honestly, I’ve loved meeting you today. Tonight has been wonderful.” I swallowed. I needed to be honest with Chase. She had earned my respect and I owed her that. “The reason I’m in this country is because I moved back for a girl. She cheated on me with a mutual friend about five weeks ago and we split up. That’s why I’m reviewing things right now.” At that point I understood the weight I’d been carrying around. Being honest with Chase had lifted it clear. I took a deep cleansing breath. Man that felt better.

  “Thanks,” said Chase. “I knew; Barnacle and Stu told me. I did not want to make you talk about it if you didn’t want to.”

  If I lived in an animated universe I think my eyes would have been on stalks and I’d have been doing laps around the house like the Road Runner. Instead I stood in silence. My brain going like Road Runner. Did this mean I could go in?

  Chase smiled at me. “Night,” she said. “Thanks for walking me home. It was wonderful and I too have really enjoyed today. See you soon I hope?” With that she leant forward kissed me on the cheek and went in closing the door behind her.

  I turned and left. I had got about half a mile down the road when I realised I was walking in the wrong direction. That was nothing to do with the alcohol which was now pretty much purged from my system. To coin a phrase from my parents' era tonight had ‘blown my mind’. I did not know where I was going or what I was doing. All my anchors had been squarely ripped from the seabed and I was very much afloat with no compass or direction. Certainly no map to follow.

  Turning back towards Stu’s house straightened my mind. I realised he may be up before I got home and I did not want any misunderstandings about where I was to start on the rumour mill. A la Terry Pratchett, the only thing faster than the speed of light is the speed of rumour. I took out my phone and dropped on my SM account that I was staying in my van. No one would question that and Chase was safe at home and would be found there alone too. All safe.

  I decided to run the rest of the way and made it back in about thirty minutes. Even so, it was now about 4am and I knew that Barnacle and or Stu would be knocking on the van by 10am at the latest with questions aplenty. The run cleared my head and I actually slept well on the fold out bed. It did feel so much like home. My own space, even if it was smaller than an affordable two-bed semi.

  It was actually 9.30am when Stu knocked on the van door. In his defence he had bacon and eggs to cook. Nick, the pub landlord, was very understanding about me using his rear car park as an unofficial base when I was in town. I think it may have had something to do with his increased takings and that he was firmly against drink driving.

  “I saw your post at 3.30,” said Stu as I opened the side door to the van. “Barnacle called to say that the metadata GPS put you out passed Amy and Chase’s place. Well?”

  “Nothing happened,” I replied exasperated. Nothing was sacred. Phones gave no freedom of movement. As I internally reflected on that statement it occurred to me it was also a kind of lie as so much had happened. Just not what Stu’s childish grin was intimating…

  “I don’t need to leave a man at work sign outside the van tonight then,” said Stu with an even bigger grin on his face.

  His grin was infectious. “No!” I said. The time he and Barnacle had done that with Clara had been so embarrassing. It took no little amount of explaining and patching up.

  “Oh, that’s a shame you two really seemed to hit it off. She seemed so much better for you than Clara. I’m sure she’d have seen the funny side of the sign! Any who I’ve got some eggs and bacon. Where’s the pan at?”

  “It’s where it normally is, and yes we did hit it off,” I said. We sat in silence with Stu just staring at me.

  “You really did didn’t you!” he said eyes wide and head cocked to one side, like an inquisitive puppy.

  “Yes. Is that so strange?”

  “No. And it’s good to see Clara hasn’t broken you. Y
ou had us worried for a while. None of us could work it out.”

  “I’m still coming to terms with it myself,” I said. “The closest I can come up with is a one-night infatuation that refused to end. For me at least…”

  “Mm, I can get that infatuation bit but I never saw you giving up the life for her. It came as a shock. You know I would have carried on if my parents hadn’t been in that crash. With Dad gone and Mum in a wheelchair, I had to come home.”

  “That was a right and proper reason, although tragically unfortunate,” I said.

  Shaking his head to clear his grief Stu said, “You got any bread?”

  “In the freezer,” I replied watching Stu carefully. I’d known him since nursery, in fact I cannot recall a time I had not known Stu. Something was up and I could not put my finger on it. “I’ve even got some shrooms in the fridge. Not the funny kind. The season hasn’t started yet,” I said smiling. It felt like my sense of humour could start to make a return. It felt good.

  Stu was busy on the small stove and the breakfast was beginning to overpower the smell of stale beer from the back of the pub in a very good way. If we weren’t careful Nick would be out with a plate.

  “I’ve got some news,” said Stu. Here it is, I thought. “You know Mum’s spinal cord was cut at the S1 in the crash and she can’t move her right leg?”

  “Yes,” I said now listening hard. Stu rarely talked about the accident. His mum’s left leg had been amputated above the left ankle and was paralysed too.

  “Well, Mum’s been in an experimental trial to re-grow the spinal cord at the RD&E in Exeter. Last month she started to have feeling in what’s left of both legs. Two weeks ago she could move her right foot and bend both knees; with a little help! Muscle atrophy has had quite an impact. The doctors are now ninety-eight per cent certain that the spinal cord will be one hundred per cent repaired by around Christmas.” At this point Stu, who I had never seen cry, even at his dad's funeral, was in floods of tears. Happy tears of relief and joy.