by Simon Rosser
She waded deeper into the ocean, feeling fresh and clean for the first time in days. Amber took a deep breath and, with the ocean around her waist, she dived under, swimming hard to warm herself up. She surfaced after a short while, the salty water stinging her tired eyes and the wound on her head.
Amber turned in the water and looked out toward the alien object, hovering over the ocean. It was something from another world and way beyond her understanding. It came into, and out of, her line of vision, the gentle swell obscuring it from sight with every wave that came between her and the object.
Amber let herself sink beneath the surface, and she opened her eyes. Her underwater vision was blurred and the salty water stung her eyes momentarily. Her mind raced. She thought about the oceans and the fact that they may have given birth to the Earth’s incredible and diverse life forms, including human beings.
Was she now the last living thing on the planet to be experiencing the wonder of the life-giving ocean, which might also soon disappear?
Amber couldn’t contemplate the ocean disappearing, and she didn’t want to witness such a disturbing event. If, as she suspected, that was what the alien object, off the coast, had been constructed for, she decided she wasn’t going to be around to see what it was going to be used for.
Amber rose to the surface to take one last lungful of the planet’s air, before allowing the ocean, that had given life to everything, to take her life away. At least she was still in control of things. The alien invaders would not be the ones to take her life away from her.
CHAPTER 30
AS AMBER BROKE through the surface of the water for the last time, she saw something white, on the beach, moving from left to right in front of her. Her vision was blurred from the salty water, so she blinked and wiped away as much water as she could from her eyes using her fingers.
Gasping for air, she took in some deep breaths, not quite able to believe what she could see. Had she already drowned?
On the shoreline, rearing up majestically, snorting loudly as it blew air through its nostrils, was a horse.
Amber swam towards the shore, her body numb from the cold.
How could it be? How could a horse have survived the Event? Was it real, or just another cruel ploy, on behalf of the planet’s invaders, to take her life?
She reached a point where the ocean was waist height, and cautiously waded toward the horse, which she could now see was a stallion, pawing the sand frantically with its forelegs, swaying its head from side to side as it snorted the air.
As Amber moved closer, she could see that it had something around its neck, a collar of some kind. Surely the horse was genuine; it looked and acted completely authentically. Amber brushed her hair back from her face, squeezing the water from her long hair, as she waded onto the beach.
Amber instinctively used her mouth to make a clicking sound at the horse. The horse became less agitated and stood there, watching her emerge from the sea.
Amber walked slowly towards the nervous horse. It trotted away from her, up the beach, but then, as she stopped, it cautiously came back, throwing its head up and down and snorting.
The stallion finally came close enough for Amber to touch its muzzle. It felt real, and solid. Amber couldn’t control her emotions at finally finding another living creature, and streams of tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Where have you been, boy?” she asked it, her voice hoarse from her dry throat.
The horse snorted, and swayed its head back and forth, its large dark eyes glistening in the sun.
Amber stroked its jaw, and reached for the thick leather collar around its neck. There was a silver oblong plaque hanging from it, with writing etched onto it. The stallion stood still long enough for Amber to read what it said;
Pegasus, Hunter’s Farm, Pembrokeshire.
“Pegasus,” she whispered. “Is that your name? Pegasus?”
The stallion snorted loudly and reared up onto its hind legs.
Amber calmed the horse. “Come on, boy, are you going to let me ride you?” she asked.
The horse snorted, eyeing her cautiously.
Amber picked up her jeans and pulled them over her wet legs. She was now shaking, from the light wind blowing against her cold skin. She quickly dried her feet with the towel she’d brought, and pulled her trainers on.
She had ridden plenty of horses when she was younger, and was a proficient rider, but she’d only ridden bareback once before, ten years ago.
“Come on, boy,” Amber said confidently, leading the horse towards the rocky bluff at the end of the beach, a short distance away.
Amber found a suitable smooth round rock and got up onto it. She urged the stallion alongside, holding its mane, and spoke softly to it.
“Don’t be scared, Pegasus, I’m going to slowly get on your back. Stay calm,” she whispered.
The horse remained still, and allowed Amber to climb onto its back.
Once on, Amber grabbed the horse’s mane and squeezed her legs against its powerful body.
“Ok, boy, are you going to show me where you live, eh?” she said.
The horse nodded its head up and down, snorting loudly.
“Come on, Pegasus, take me home.” Amber quietly clicked her tongue, as she squeezed her legs against the stallion’s sides and leant slightly forward.
The stallion broke into a canter up the beach, across the wet, soft sand, towards the wood plank walkway Amber had walked along earlier.
The horse trotted confidently along the wooden walkway and into the car park. It hesitated, noticing the Porsche parked a short distance away, before moving briskly to the road, where it turned left, and broke into a canter, moving quickly along the narrow lane, that rose up alongside the beach, and up toward the cliff top above.
CHAPTER 31
AMBER REACHED THE top of the headland on Pegasus, leant back to stop him, and looked down onto Manorbier Bay. She now had a good view of the alien machine that had been, or was currently in the process of being, constructed off the coast. It looked surreal; like a scene from a science fiction movie. It was difficult to tear her eyes from it.
Pegasus moved off at her urging, passing some small cottages on the right, all of which appeared deserted, their elderly and retired owners probably now just small piles of dust in their beds, unable to object to the machine being constructed off their beautiful, unspoilt coastline.
The horse cantered on, moving steadily along the coastal road. Amber knew the area well. There were numerous farms dotted about the coast, but she’d never heard of the farm etched onto Pegasus’ collar, Hunters Farm.
They reached a T-Junction on the coastal road and Pegasus turned left, moving inland. Amber held on to his thick white mane on as the horse moved at a steady canter along the country lane, the clopping of its hooves echoing off the bank alongside the tarmac road.
After two miles, or so, they reached a break in the hedgerow where she noticed an open gate, and Pegasus stopped, rearing up off the ground a little. Amber was caught off-guard initially, but managed to cling on. The horse turned into a lane, which proceeded up through some fields. The brown, grassy field was dotted with dry cowpats, together with the tell-tale neat mounts of ash, which were probably once the landowner’s cows.
The horse galloped through the field and over the brow of a small hill. As they cleared the hill, Pegasus slowed, much to Amber’s relief, as she was now tiring, her buttocks were numbing, and her thighs and calves were burning from clinging on during the ride.
Through a copse of leafless trees, Amber caught sight of a sprawling farmhouse, together with some outbuildings. The horse stopped, turned in a circle, as if trying to tell her something, before taking off down the gentle hill towards the farmhouse.
A low stone wall surrounded the farm, and fixed to the open front gate, was a wooden sign, with the farm’s name written on it in black; Hunter’s Farm.
Amber’s stomach was churning with nerves as the horse trotted through the gate,
down a short lane towards the house, before continuing around the back, past some well-maintained farm equipment, a bright green tractor, bales of hay and a wooden barn.
They were now at the rear of the property, in another large field, the hedge created a natural boundary right at the other end, and a country lane, which she could see through it, just beyond. Amber could also just see the Milford Haven Oil Refinery, way off in the distance, on the Pembrokeshire coast.
The horse moved towards a dilapidated wooden shed, about twice the size of a normal garden shed, situated in, what she guessed, was approximately the middle of the field.
“Come on, boy, let’s go back to the house,” Amber said, leaning downwards to Pegasus’ ear.
The horse ignored her, arrived at the shed, and started stamping the dry field under its front hooves. It snorted loudly, becoming friskier.
Amber held on, confused at the horse’s actions, as Pegasus continued turning in circles on the spot.
Amber then heard a sound, similar to a wooden door creaking open and then slamming. She tried twisting around to look in the direction of the shed, but the horse was facing the wrong way, towards the farmhouse. The horse then quickly turned toward the sound, rearing up on its hind legs as it did, throwing Amber, who was unable to hold on any more, to the ground.
As she landed on the field, a man’s voice shouted; “Good God! Miss, are you... alright?! Pegasus, where the hell have you been? And who in the world have you brought back with you?”
CHAPTER 32
TWO POWERFUL ARMS lifted Amber to her feet. She turned and stood there, shaking, looking into the blue eyes of a blonde man, around six feet tall, in his mid-forties. His hair was short and he sported a few days’ worth of stubble over a square jaw.
“Are you ok love?” he asked, in a strong Welsh accent.
Amber didn’t know what to say. She stood there, half in shock and half in total panic, wondering if the man was human, or just another clever alien incarnation.
“W…who are you?” Amber stammered.
“My name is John, John Brien,” he said, shaking her hand. “This is my father’s farm.” He looked at her grimly. “There’s some weird shit going on around here, which I’m sure you’re aware of. Everyone and everything is dead,” he said, scratching his blonde hair. “Did you hear my message?” he asked.
Amber stood there, stunned. “You mean the radio broadcast? It was you?”
“Aye,” he said. “I sent it a few days ago, but my radio temporarily packed in. Just been fixing it now,” he said, indicating the shed he’d come from.
Amber shook her head, moved closer to the man, wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.
She pulled back after a few seconds, wiping tears away from her eyes. “I heard the broadcast,” she said. “I was in my car, but I lost the signal, and couldn’t find it again. I thought I must have imagined it. It was your horse, Pegasus, who found me on the beach. I was about…about to drown myself,” she said, wiping away more tears.
“Bloody hell!” the farmer said. “Thank God Pegasus found you, eh? He’s a great horse.”
Pegasus reared up on his hind legs again, a short distance away, snorting loudly.
“But how…how did you and Pegasus manage to survive?” Amber asked.
“It’s a long story,” John said, gesturing towards the shed. “We have an old nuclear fall-out bunker, under there. We were in there when whatever happened, happened. The materials the bunker is made from must have saved us, I guess. Come on, let’s get you to the house for a cup of tea and change of clothing,” he said.
“We?” Amber said.
“Me, the horse, and a…” John cut himself off. “Sorry, lass,” he said. “I haven’t even asked you your name.”
Amber smiled. “My name? I’m Amber. Amber Lee.”
John stopped walking, and turned to her, a look of amazement on his face.
“What. What’s wrong?” Amber asked, concerned at the farmer’s reaction.
“Amber Lee, you say?”
Amber nodded.
“Good God,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t quite believe it. There’s someone in the house who’s going to be very pleased to see you.”
CHAPTER 33
AMBER FOLLOWED JOHN in through the front door and into a large hall. They turned left, and entered into a spacious lounge.
At the far end of the room, sitting in an armchair, looking out over the fields towards the ocean; on the southeast side of the property, was an elderly man. Amber didn’t recognise him at first, but with each step she took, she succumbed to a feeling of unbelievable joy.
“Amber,” John said. “I believe that’s your father.”
“Dad?” Amber shouted, as her father turned around, a look of disbelief on his face, as he saw her running towards him.
“Amber, how in the world did…”
Amber cut him short as she reached the armchair, dropped to her knees, and wrapped her arms around him. Perhaps there is a God after all, she thought, as she cried tears of joy.
She finally managed to drag her head from his chest, after wetting his shirt with her tears, and looked up at the kind, soft, slightly chubby face, of her seventy-five year old dad.
“I can’t believe what my eyes are seeing,” he said. “I never thought I’d see you again, poppet. How on earth did you get out of London, let alone survive this terrible thing?” he asked.
John’s voice boomed from the doorway. “I’d better go and make us all a cup of tea,” he said.
Amber told her dad she would wait until John got back, with the tea, before giving the details of her trek home.
She told her father about discovering her mother’s ashes, in the bed, at their home. Her father stroked Amber’s hair as he said “I’m so sorry that she didn’t survive, poppet”.
Amber was seated with her father and John, around the coffee table in John’s lounge. The south-easterly facing French doors, which looked out onto a decked patio, were open, allowing a light breeze into the room.
After hearing how her father had survived, and ended up at the farm, Amber had been relaying the details of her terrifying journey to them both; from the moment she’d woken up in her uncle’s apartment in London, until she arrived here yesterday.
John and her dad listened intently, their mouths dropping open at certain points, a disbelieving look on their faces at times, as she told them the incredible happenings in the apartment block, the museum, and as she made her way through London, not to mention the incident on the Severn Bridge.
“So you’re saying these things were first able to control water and then, after a few days, created what appear to have been hollow tubes, or tendrils, as you referred to them, which were pumping stuff through them, and smelled of ammonia?”
Amber nodded. “Yes, Dad. It all started with the water in the apartment swimming pool. I saw it with my own eyes. The water was literally defying gravity, somehow moving by its own accord, as if under intelligent control.”
Amber’s father sat there, completely mesmerised by what his daughter was telling him.
“So, you’re telling us, these things, wherever they’ve come from, have the ability to mimic us, and other animals, using water? Not only that, but can also somehow bring an extinct museum exhibit back to life?”
Amber nodded her head slowly. “I know it sounds unbelievable, but it’s true.”
“How fast did you say that thing that hatched on the bridge was able to run?” Amber’s father asked.
“I’m not sure. It had to be close on eighty miles an hour. I’d accelerated to a hundred and it had almost caught up to me,” she said, sipping her coffee.
“Incredible, simply incredible,” her dad said, putting on what Amber called his ‘physics’ face. A serious, contemplative face her dad used to make, when marking his pupils physics exam answers, at the dining room table at home.
“I think I’m going to need something stronger in my coffee,” John said, af
ter listening to the story. “I’ve been saving my XO Cognac for a special occasion. I’ll go and fetch it.”
Amber’s father turned to her. “The ammonia molecule, NH3, like the water molecule, is abundant in the universe. It’s a compound of hydrogen, which is the simplest and most common element, along with another very common element, nitrogen. The role of liquid ammonia as an alternative solvent for life is an idea that goes back at least sixty years,” he said.
“What do you think is happening Dad?” Amber asked, as John came back into the room holding a bottle of Cognac and three crystal-cut glass tumblers.
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that over the last few days, after seeing that thing out there, off the coast, being built…”
“Being built?” Amber interrupted.
Her father looked at her. “We haven’t told you yet, have we? We’ve been studying that alien object, off the coast, through John’s telescope, upstairs in the top bedroom. There are machines, flying robotic machines, constructing it. The object is using some kind of anti-gravity device to keep it above the ocean. Incredible,” her father said, shaking his head.
“But what’s it for?” Amber asked.
“Would you like some Cognac, Peter?” John interrupted.
Amber’s father nodded and smiled at John. “I sure do,” he said.
“What about you, Amber?”
Amber nodded. “Why not? Just a little though, in my tea.”
John gave Amber a funny look, before pouring some in.
“You’re ruining an expensive Cognac there.”
Amber ignored the comment and looked at her father.
“Well, my best guess is; that our planet is either being terraformed, or, the aliens have come to steel our water.”
