by Mark Robson
‘Who was that on the phone, darling?’ Natalie Barnes asked as she entered the room, a cup of coffee in each hand.
David was not sure how to answer. He knew his wife. She was likely to become hysterical when she realised something had happened to Callum, but he could not keep it from her.
‘Come and sit down, love,’ he began. ‘I think you’re going to need something stronger than coffee.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘You’re not doing the old Wizard of Oz line again are you, Brad? I’ll bet you’ve not even asked their names yet, have you? Come on. Help me get them inside. They’re soaked through and they look frozen!’
‘OK, Leah,’ Brad mumbled. ‘Sorry,’ he added, giving Sam an apologetic shrug and stepping out from the sheltered porch into the rain.
Sam grabbed Brad’s extended hand and struggled to his feet.
‘I’m Sam Cutler,’ he said. ‘And my friend is Callum Barnes. Thanks for helping us. I was convinced we were about to be eaten.’
‘With good reason, Sam,’ Leah replied, her voice deadly serious. ‘Let’s get you and Callum inside and we’ll explain what we can.’
Sam found he could barely stand, but with a determined effort, he staggered across to the doorway. He waited while Leah and Brad lifted Callum between them. They looked rather unbalanced, as Leah was so petite and slim next to Brad’s fuller, taller frame, that despite being in no fit state to help, Sam felt guilty for allowing her to do the lifting. Leah had a kind face, framed with long brown hair, heavily streaked with grey and tied back in a ponytail that reached halfway down her back. When she smiled at him, her features lit up. To Sam it was like being welcomed by a long-lost friend. She flicked her hair out of the way as she draped one of Callum’s arms round her shoulders. The couple half-carried and half-dragged him inside. He showed no sign of consciousness. Sam followed, closing the door behind him and hooking the simple wooden latch in place. The sudden quiet as the sound of the wind was abruptly muffled made Sam’s head swim.
Callum was placed gently on a sofa that had been roughly fashioned from wood and adorned with what looked like waterproof boat cushions for padding. Leah leaned over him, checking his throat for a pulse and hovering her cheek across his nose and mouth to see if she could feel him breathing. When she straightened up, she turned to Sam and smiled.
‘I think he’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘We just need to get him out of these wet clothes and wrap him up nice and warm. Brad and I can do that. Please, sit down. Here. Come and sit near the fire. You’ll feel a lot better too once you’ve warmed up.’
There were several other chairs in the room, all clearly hand-made from wood. Some had cushions. Others were just bare wood. The one Leah indicated looked to be the most comfortable. Sam did not need any more encouragement. He crossed the room to the chair and gently collapsed into it. The warmth of the fire and sudden overwhelming feelings of relief and security combined to create a powerful soporific effect. Sam’s mind was swimming with questions, but no sooner had he leaned back than he began to feel very sleepy. He had a vague awareness of someone removing his shoes and T-shirt. In a semi-dream he felt a blanket draped over his body and legs and then sleep claimed him totally.
Sam awoke in a panic, heart pounding and a scream hovering in the back of his throat. The nightmare had been more intense than any he could remember. The after-image of a horrible creature with terrifying teeth and overwhelming strength haunted the corners of his vision as he sat bolt upright. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. It had been years since he had last had a nightmare that felt so vivid.
‘Must have dozed off in front of the box,’ he mumbled.
The room was dark, but warm. What on earth had he been watching to trigger that response? he wondered. It was only as he sat up and looked to where he expected to see the TV that he realised he was not in the Key-side house. The day’s events came flooding back. The nightmare had not been a reaction to something he had been watching. He had been reliving reality.
Sam groaned.
The only light in the room came from the glowing embers of the fire. They were still giving off quite a lot of heat, but only the faintest amount of light. The distant sound of wind in the treetops and of heavy rain pounding the outside of the house told him that the wild weather was not over yet. If anything, it sounded worse than ever.
He shifted his weight and the blanket slipped from his shoulders. He was still wearing his shorts, but at least they felt dry now. How long had he been sitting here? What time was it? He remembered Brad and Leah bringing them in. Where were they now? And Callum? He had been nearby. Was he still there? Sam couldn’t see well enough in the dark to tell.
‘Cal?’ he whispered. ‘Callum?’
‘Sam? Is that you?’ came a sleepy reply.
‘Cal!’ he exclaimed, keeping his voice low. ‘Thank God you’re OK! You had me so worried.’
‘Where are we?’
‘I’ve got no idea, but I think we’re safe for now,’ he said. ‘Try to get some more sleep and we’ll worry about getting answers in the morning, OK?’
‘Sure . . . and Sam . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘Thanks for keeping us alive.’
‘I wouldn’t be too quick to thank me,’ Sam said. ‘You don’t know how much trouble we’re in yet.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Call it intuition,’ he said. ‘Try to get some more sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
Sam leaned back and closed his eyes again. It was easy to say, ‘We’ll worry about it in the morning,’ but sleep felt a million miles away. His mind was fully alert now and he could not imagine getting back to sleep again. He played back the events of the day again and again, trying to make sense of what had happened. The sound of Callum’s breathing settled quickly to the slow, steady pattern of sleep. How long he sat awake, Sam would not have liked to guess. He did not feel as if he had dropped off at all, but when he opened his eyes on hearing someone moving across the room behind him, he was surprised to see daylight filtering through cracks in the wooden shutters.
‘Good morning,’ he said, getting to his feet.
It was Leah. ‘Good morning, Sam,’ she replied, giving him a warm smile. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Not really, if I’m honest,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t help thinking about . . . well, everything, I suppose.’
‘Coming through is traumatic for everyone,’ she observed.
‘Coming through? Coming through what? The storm? Leah, please tell me – where exactly are we?’
‘Exactly?’ she replied. ‘I wouldn’t like to say exactly. But as far as we’ve been able to work out, we’re where the Florida mainland should be.’
‘You’re talking in riddles! Surely we’re either on the mainland or we’re not. Aside from the Keys, there’s no other land around.’
‘That’s just it, Sam,’ she said, taking something that looked like a melon down from a shelf and putting it on a wooden board. ‘We’re sort of in Florida, but we’re not. The moon and the stars in the sky look the same, but we’re not in the same world we grew up in. Miami doesn’t exist here. None of our cities do. In fact, the only humans here are those like you and us who have come from our world.’
‘That’s impossible!’ Sam exclaimed. ‘Callum and I were only a couple of miles off Summerland Key. We weren’t abducted by aliens or anything.’
‘Summerland Key, did you say?’ Brad was standing in the doorway. He let out a long whistle of amazement. ‘Jeez! You boys did well to get that far. How big was your boat?’
‘Just under ten metres.’
‘Metres?’ Brad frowned as he thought for a few seconds. ‘So that would be about thirty feet?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Impressive! I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone making it to shore from so far out before. When Leah and I crossed, we were out of Key Largo and heading towards Miami. There are no Keys here. The sea levels and the topography se
em to be different. Our short spell in the storm we came in on was hair-raising enough. Let me guess: the water looked strange and then all your navigation equipment failed. Without warning you found yourself surrounded by storm clouds.’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘That was when you crossed.’ Brad stated it confidently, as if it was a proven fact. ‘Do you ever watch any sci-fi? Star Trek, that sort of thing?’
‘I do,’ Callum said suddenly, sitting up. Sam jumped. He had not noticed his friend wake up. ‘Are you saying we’re in a sort of parallel world?’ Callum asked.
‘Precisely!’ Brad said. ‘This place is like Earth, but it’s not the Earth we know. It seems to occupy the same piece of space as the world we all come from, but in another dimension or something.’
‘Those lizard-men . . .’ Sam began.
‘Lizard-men?’ Callum asked, confused. ‘What are you talking about? Sam, I’m blind as a bat without my glasses. Do you know what happened to them?’
‘You dropped them in that frantic charge at the beach. I found them and put them into the survival pack, but I’ve not seen that since last night,’ Sam admitted.
‘Is this it?’ Leah asked, dropping the bright yellow pack on Sam’s lap.
‘That’s brilliant, Leah!’ he exclaimed. ‘Thanks you have no idea how happy I am to see this again.’
Sam unclipped the top. To his astonishment, he found the survival knife that he had thought lost forever in the trees was there in its scabbard right at the top. He removed it and tucked it under his leg while he rummaged deeper. His stomach tightened as his hands sifted through the survival gear searching for the foil-wrapped glasses. Where had they gone? He gave a deep sigh of relief as his fingers found the blanket. He drew it out and carefully unwrapped the glasses. They appeared undamaged. He passed them to Callum.
‘Thanks,’ Callum said. ‘That’s much better.’ He looked first at Leah, then at Brad and then back at Sam. ‘Now what was that you were saying about lizard-men?’
‘The creatures who brought you to our house are the dominant species here,’ Leah answered. ‘I’m no biologist, but everything we’ve seen here in the Reserve seems to point at them having evolved from raptors.’
‘As in dinosaurs?’ Sam could feel the blood draining from his face. ‘But they didn’t look much like any pictures of raptors I’ve ever seen.’
‘That’s right,’ Leah said, carefully cutting the huge piece of fruit into thick slices. ‘Like I said, they’ve evolved – probably over millions of years. They’re nothing like the fossil records in our world showed them. For one thing, they’re warm-blooded, and for another, they are highly intelligent.’
‘Evolved or not, why would you let raptors into your Reserve?’ Callum asked, his voice thick with amazement. ‘They’re carnivorous. Deadly killers.’
‘That they are,’ Leah agreed, smiling. ‘But you’ve got the wrong idea totally, Callum. We don’t get to decide who lives here. The raptors do. We’re the protected species in the Reserve.’
‘What!’
Sam and Callum looked at one another in horror.
‘Nipper and his friends saved you last night, didn’t they? The raptors find us fascinating. They’ve been studying us for years now and tend to look out for new arrivals after storms.’
‘Nipper?’ Sam prompted.
‘Well, that’s what we call him,’ Brad explained. ‘Most humans can’t pronounce his real name and I nicknamed him Nipper because of his age. He’s the youngest of his group, yet he’s become their leader.’
‘You spoke with him,’ Sam said, pointing at Brad with wide eyes as he started to piece everything together. ‘All that clicking and stuff. That’s how they talk, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right. I can only communicate at a very elementary level, but I have picked up some of the basics.’
‘Brad has always been good at picking up other languages,’ Leah said, handing out bowls of sliced fruit. ‘He’s tried to teach me, but I’m useless at it.’
‘Languages have never been my thing either,’ Sam admitted. ‘I prefer the sciences. I guess I take after my . . .’ His eyes went wide. Suddenly, he began speaking urgently. ‘There are others here – other humans in the Reserve, right?’
‘About thirty at the last count,’ Brad replied.
‘And some of them have been here a long time?’ Sam asked.
‘Yes.’ Brad and Leah glanced at one another. An unspoken question passed between them.
‘Is there anyone here called Claire? Claire Cutler. She would be about forty years old. She would have come here about nine years ago.’
Sam felt Callum’s eyes on him, but his focus was totally on the reactions of Brad and Leah. The couple looked at one another again. Both wore frowns. Sam’s heart sank. He did not need to hear the answer to know what it would be. Leah was first to reply.
‘I’m sorry, Sam,’ she said. ‘There’s no one in the Reserve called Claire. If she came here, she’s not here now.’
‘That’s not to say that she isn’t here somewhere in this world,’ Brad added quickly. ‘The raptors have recognised that human knowledge of some areas of science is superior to theirs. I’ve heard there are a few humans who now work alongside raptors in some areas of scientific development.’
‘She was a marine biologist,’ Sam said, unable to keep the bitter disappointment from his voice.
‘Then maybe she is one of those the raptors were interested in,’ Leah suggested.
Sam recognised the false brightness in Leah’s tone instantly. From the way she spoke, he could tell she felt it far more likely that his mother never made it to shore. For a brief moment he had felt there might be a silver lining to this nightmare, but the flash of hope died as quickly as it had ignited. It would have been amazing to find his mother after all this time, but he was very much a realist.
‘No,’ he replied, shaking his head. ‘Don’t worry. It was a ridiculous idea! My mother is dead. I’ve lived with that for the past nine years. It’s just I thought . . . I hoped . . .’
He couldn’t finish. Instead, he picked up a piece of fruit from his bowl and took a tentative bite. It was succulent and sweet, but unlike anything he had ever tasted before. It had the texture of a watermelon, but it had a far stronger, more distinct flavour. He wanted to say it was like mango, but it wasn’t. Neither was it like a kiwi fruit, yet the flavour reminded him of that as well.
‘Mmm! Delicious. What is this?’ he asked, deflecting the subject towards less painful territory.
‘Some of us call it a KFC fruit,’ Brad said with a grin.
‘KFC?’ asked Sam. ‘As in Kentucky Fried? But it doesn’t taste anything like chicken.’
‘No, we don’t call it KFC fruit for the flavour,’ he explained. ‘It’s because they’re everywhere and nobody gives a damn if they’re healthy or not ’cos they’re finger-lickin’ good.’
‘This is all really hard to believe,’ Callum said, changing the subject again. His expression was thoughtful as he remembered the strange creature that had looked at him from the sea. It seemed like a dream now, the product of his imagination and sickness. ‘It all sounds so far-fetched. How far have you explored? Are you sure we’re not in the middle of a secret genetic experiment? Or an elaborate hoax?’
‘Oh, we’re sure all right. It’s real,’ Leah insisted. ‘I’ve visited some of the raptors’ housing and seen how they live. Everything here is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Some of their technology is several steps beyond ours, yet some looks positively archaic.’
‘Yes,’ Brad agreed. ‘Their nuclear technology, for example, is way beyond anything our scientists have developed.’
‘The raptors use nuclear power?’ Sam gasped. ‘But the ones I saw seemed like savage beasts. They didn’t even wear clothes!’
‘Don’t let their appearance fool you,’ Leah said, shaking her head slowly. ‘The raptors around here have no practical need for clothing so they don’t wear it. Apparen
tly, those who live in colder regions wear garments made of excellent insulating materials. Clothing is a poor indicator of intelligence though. According to Nipper, the raptors developed nuclear power centuries ago – long before humans had even started playing seriously with electricity.’
‘Right!’ Callum said, clearly unconvinced. ‘You’ll be telling me that the local tyrannosaurs have PlayStations next.’
‘Thankfully, I don’t think you need worry about meeting a T-rex,’ Brad said seriously. ‘I’ve not travelled extensively here, so I could be wrong, but as far as I can tell, tyrannosaurs were wiped out by the raptors several million years ago. They were probably considered too dangerous a rival. But trust me, Callum, even without the T-rex, this world has more than its share of dangers.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Niamh sat up on the sunbed as she heard the sound of tyres crunching to a slow stop on the gravel drive. After a terrible night of tossing and turning, unable to sleep, she had come out to the pool early for a swim to clear her head. A glance at her watch confirmed it was just past eight. The warm caress of the morning sun was enough to make drying out a pleasure, though it was hard to imagine anyone calling at this time unless they had news of the boys.
Hidden from the arriving car by the hedge round the pool, Niamh was poised to get to her feet when she froze as she overheard the low voices.
‘Got yer cuffs ready?’
‘Yeah, I’m all set.’
‘Let’s go get him then.’
‘D’ya think he’ll come easy? The boss says he’s up for multiple homicide.’
‘I ain’t gotta clue, Bud. Just be ready for anything, OK.’
Homicide? A shock ran through Niamh as she realised what was happening. The police were here to arrest her father. She wanted to stand up and tell them her father was no murderer, but instinct stopped her. Why should the police listen to her? They wouldn’t.
What should she do? They were already approaching the front door. Staying low, she nipped round the pool and over to the furthest patio door. Praying that the door would not make a noise, she slid it open just far enough to slip inside. Amazingly, she made it without being seen just as the men thumped on the front door. Although Niamh knew they were going to knock, the heavy thumping sound still made her jump.
