A Survivor's Guide to Eternity

by Pete Lockett

  It had all the hallmarks of a war zone but not a war between countries, more a local riot or civil chaos gripped by lawlessness and anarchy. He was sinking down upon a small open-top lift, but when he looked down there was just a cobbled street, and no lift. He descended in relation to the building opposite but could still see over the wall next to him. He saw the young thugs fire their guns into the building once more. Shots were exchanged with the occupants, before the fighters inside changed sides and started killing the other residents.

  He feared for his own life as he got lower and lower, and then out of the blue, commuters started passing between the two walls either side of him, brushing shoulders and pushing him rudely. He followed them, away from the young armed men and found himself crossing Brooklyn bridge with hundreds of commuters, packed in neat uniform lines. He chatted freely to his comrades and noticed that he too wore a dark blue pinstripe suit and duffle coat. The comrades commented on how hard it was living in such a deprived area of town and that they must really get out and escape.

  Once over the bridge he found himself in an old Georgian style house. It was dark and he struggled with a huge bag of bongo drums. Dazed, confused and with no money he reached for the light switch, illuminating a bare and violently bright bulb. An angry voice shouted loudly and he was punched in the back of his head knocking him down. He came around to realise someone had nailed his duffle coat to the table, imprisoning him in a small kitchen. He was tormented and abused by his captors for waking their leader, Shirali. They ripped his coat from the table and kicked him out into the street, leaving him panic stricken, separated from his bag of bongos. He felt he must get back inside at any cost.

  Nervously he sat in the street wondering how to get his drums back. Shirali emerged from the house to tell him he would never see them again, showing off his revolting oversized teeth in the process. The desperation grew stronger and stronger as he ran up and down the street like a crazed dog. Then a loud bang, a kaleidoscope of darkness and finally silence.

  ***

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  Soon the voice started to penetrate into Ed’s consciousness.

  “Jumping over is never easy. I imagine you had a horrible dream. Was it the Brooklyn bridge one or the pyramids? I prefer the pyramid one myself.”

  “Urgghh.” Ed stumbled up to his feet, catching sight of a fine white sand floor and a brilliant white granite tunnel wall.

  “Umpgh, that was a dream then? Thank goodness for that,” he breathed, as he got to his feet to see himself standing in front of a small Indian man dressed in black silk Kota pyjamas.

  “Yes, everyone who comes through the fortune teller has a nasty dream and thumping headache for an hour afterwards. Not ideal, but one must survive. That’s a ‘psyche jump’ for you, eh? Welcome to Denmark.”

  “Denmark! I thought she was joking. Do you need to see my visa then?” replied Ed jokingly.

  “No need for that down here. It’s not ‘that’ Denmark anyway. It’s just what we call this sector. How’s your head anyway?”

  “Arghh, yes, you’re right, I’ve got a thumping headache,” said Ed in reply, realising he had a throbbing gelatinous medicine ball on his shoulders.

  “You would be here to meet the Viking, I assume?”

  “Yes, I am. Can you take me to him?” queried Ed.

  “Yes, for sure. It won’t take long to get there, maybe twenty minutes or so if we keep a sprightly pace. Are you okay to walk?” enquired the mild mannered Indian gentleman.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Let’s go. I’m Ed.”

  “Hi, Ed. I am Pritvijaj,” replied the man as they set off into the white granite tunnel.

  “Does he speak English, Pritvijaj?” enquired Ed eagerly.

  “Yep, that and dozens of other languages fluently. Mind you, he has had nine hundred years or more to fine-tune it,” replied the gentle Indian man.

  “Yes, I guess so. Time certainly helps, eh.”

  “He was on the other side for four hundred of those, in the Basheri community.”

  “Basheri? I don’t know that one. I just came from Koan Dome.”

  “I know. You came through the Koan portal.”

  “You mean there’s more than one entrance like that?”

  “Yes, there are a few. We don’t get many visitors though, mainly because they can’t go back. Anyway, Koan, that’s where I was. Lovely place, eh. I stayed there for twenty years or more, at a guess. Did you meet Yedida? Did you hear the choir?”

  “Yes, the choir was incredible, as was Yedida. She showed me the way here.”

  “What a lovely person, so sweet.”

  “She’s pure, what a soul,” replied Ed as they continued into the white tunnel.

  “Proof that you can survive anything with your dignity and pride intact. Anyway, Ed, what are you hoping to get from the Viking, what do you think he can do for you?”

  “I’m wondering if I can go back and find out what happened, maybe change things? I don’t know why, but I feel a strong impulse to pursue these ideas with the Viking,” replied Ed thoughtfully.

  “I’m sure he can help you. He is very instinctually insightful. Don’t be surprised if he tells you what you are thinking before you even know it yourself.”

  “Sounds intriguing. I can’t wait,” replied Ed, as they turned a corner and into a similarly white tunnel, this one covered in deep black vines from top to bottom. Familiar lights in the walls cast an enchanting matrix of shadows across the fine white sand.

  Chapter 15

  Welcome to Denmark

  Soon Ed was being whisked into a large white-walled circular room, equally decorated with dramatic back lit black vines. Arranged in a circle on the floor were dozens of white furry sheepskins, all vacant apart from one on Ed’s left as he walked in.

  “Ed, this is Jahani. Jahani, this is Ed. He’s just arrived and was sent over by Yedida,” announced Pritvijaj as he ushered Ed in further, before turning tail and leaving the room.

  “Good. Welcome to Denmark. How much time do you have?” enquired the Viking directly, as he calmly stood up.

  “I think I’m good for a couple of days, Jahani,” replied Ed, as he went over towards the ancient man. As he got closer the first thing he noticed was his ancient looking, gnarled and wrinkled face, like he had been head-on in a blizzard for the whole nine hundred years since his death.

  Greyish, gingery, brown hair shot out with profusion from all over his bulky head, long and slightly knotted locks flowing down past his chin and a fine beard that looked more like a waterfall flowing from his bottom lip. A fat and chunky moustache resided on his upper lip like a tatty Cuban cigar underneath a vast, round, bloodshot nose. A hard stare came from his intense deep set blue eyes focused all the more by the bedraggled and thicketed bushy eye brows. This was crowned with a pronounced and tall forehead making it look as though the top of his skull had been hydraulically raised up from inside. He was indeed a daunting sight of a man with a domineering presence. As he stood upright his powerful physique made Ed feel quite demure.

  He looked down at the clothes on his muscular frame, a light brown fur skin over his broad shoulders, cut into a zig-zag finish at the bottom, covering a long sleeveless under jacket made from a canvas looking material, also cut in a zig-zag line just below his waist at the bottom. This covered fairly plain-looking cream leggings and knee-high, black, furry boots. Underneath the sleeveless jacket on top was an equally plain long sleeved, off-white shirt with two leather forearm protectors on each arm. In the corner, Ed could see a long-handled axe and the customary long-horned Viking helmet.

  “I can see you are a lot more modern than me, Mr Trew,” boomed the powerful-looking Viking.

  “That’s right - Mr Trew! How do you know my name?” exclaimed Ed with surprise.

  “You’ll get used to that. Come, sit down over here,” replied the Viking as he shook Ed’s hand and pointe
d him towards one of the animal fur seats. The thick hedge eyebrows danced on his face excitedly with every word as if they were actually speaking themselves.

  “How did they get in here, Jahani? I thought there were no possessions?” enquired the solar power expert with regards the animal skin.

  “They were my clothes. I died with them all on. It was a bloody cold night, you have no idea,” exclaimed the Viking animatedly, as they both sat down a metre or so from one another on adjacent furry seats.

  “I assume you’re curious about your death and want to find out a little more about the circumstances? I’ll tell you in advance though, I don’t help anyone that killed themselves and left their children behind. It cannot be condoned at all.”

  “No. Don’t worry, I didn’t do that and yes, that’s exactly it. I’d definitely like to know exactly what happened,” replied Ed, noticing his oversized and magnificent hands, each finger looking like a baby’s arm.

  “I understand. It’s most common in murder cases though, people wanting to know the exact details of who finished them off and why. Some people don’t even know how they were killed. Do you know how and where you met your demise?” replied the Viking with a perfect ‘middle England’ voice, nurtured among many languages over the centuries.

  “Yes, a car accident near Dummer in south England.”

  “Well, that’ll make things a lot easier. Saves me doing any detective work,” replied Jahani.

  “What, like a Viking Sherlock Holmes?” retorted Ed.

  “Yes, indeed. Anyway, we need to start with some words. Huayna, Huayna. Can you come in?” bellowed the Viking at the top of his voice towards the door. Soon a small Native American man entered the room and went over to Jahani.

  “Huayna, Ed. Ed, Huayna, please meet one another,” stated the Viking as the young man, dressed in a Mexican-looking Clint Eastwood shawl, curled up in a ball on the floor in front of him. Huayna looked at Ed blankly with as much emotion as a roast potato.

  “He’s Peruvian and doesn’t speak a word of English. He was a coal miner but his real ability was as an acrobat. I bet you couldn’t get into that position could you?” stated Jahani looking at the small man in front who had suddenly formed himself into a perfect ball.

  “I couldn’t. You’re right. Why is he doing it though?” replied Ed.

  “Come, get up and sit on him, he won’t feel a thing.”

  “Sit on him. Why would I do that?”

  “Trust me, just do it. It’s how he got the nickname ‘the chairman’, after all.”

  “Whatever,” replied Ed as he got up and sat upon the small man who didn’t even flinch.

  “Right, now hold my forearms and start reciting words to me, any words you like.”

  “Erm. Well, I won’t even bother asking why. Last time this happened though I had a horrible dream. Is that going to happen again? I need some warning -the headache’s only just going,” replied Ed.

  “No, nothing like that. Nothing at all. I just need to make a connection with you on another level. Huayna acts as a conductor for all the psychic energy. It won’t take a minute,” replied the elderly man as Ed reached forward, grabbed his arms and began reciting random words, immediately sensing an electric energy moving between the three of them.

  “Ambidextrous, ambient, feeling, supervision, cold, terrified, medium, trough, bacon, meaningful, tenuous, promotion, slouch, hay, farm, journey, Saturday, phobia, trepidation, horn, Monday, watch, wind, fuelled, jelly, trench, ante, antenna, sagged, agent, moon, night, monk, priest, pressing, custard, aubergine, text, skid, perpendicular, science.” Ed was bought to an abrupt halt.

  “That’s enough, that’s enough. You can sit on the floor again now. Thanks, Huayna. You were on top form yet again,” stated the Viking ironically, as the small man unravelled himself, stood up, and disappeared from the enclosure.

  “If he doesn’t speak English, then how did he know what you were saying?”

  “Intuition possibly, more likely though was the fact that I was pointing at the door for him to leave,” replied the Viking, as a big grin broke out into a face expanding smile causing his beard to ripple with the movement.

  “Fair enough,” replied Ed, also grinning as Jahani swept his hand over his moustache and down over his long beard as if he was pulling on a rope. Ed was glad to have finally met up with the Viking. He was starting to feel a lot more relaxed in his company and had stopped feeling quite so intimidated. He was certainly a gigantic man with a colossal presence but underneath he seemed to be a gentle heart in the body of a lion.

  “Anyway, what did you discover about me with the words?” he asked.

  “Nothing. It’s just about opening the channels between us. Seemingly pointless but equally important in the grander scheme.”

  “Well that’s good to know. What happens now? What can you do for me and what can I learn about this whole situation from you? I’ve come to understand you are the ‘go to’ guy for information in here, is that correct?”

  “I’ve got to be honest with you, Ed. There’s not a lot I can do for you this time round. You’ll need to come back after another transience and then we can start to control things a little bit more. There are a few things you need to know. These are all very important points if we are to move on. You will need to kill yourself within two miles of where you originally died. It’s important that you kill yourself and are not accidentally killed by an external influence. At the moment of death you need to be focussing on an object in your possession which you need to bring back with you. It can be anything, a dog collar, bow, anything. It’s really important you focus on that object and try to stay consciously aware after death and during the first moments of the transience. Then when you come back to me, I can work on getting you back to approximately that same spot each time for you to find out a little more about your death. Unfortunately, all I can do this time is help out with trying to make you more agile on the other side. There is something we can do for that to ensure you are not a tortoise again or a snail or some such thing.’

  “That’s a relief. The tortoise was the worst. Beginner’s luck I suppose.”

  “Maybe. Anyway, we should get a move on and get you on your way. No point in hanging around here for chit-chat. Let’s go over to the tunnels and send you off,” exclaimed the Viking as he got to his feet and ushered Ed up and over to the entrance of the room and into the tunnel past the vacant white furry rugs. Soon they were ascending some black rock stairs and entering a smaller tunnel, bright white granite perfectly polished like a marble bath. All along the long tunnel there were small holes in the floor, just about large enough to fit one person in. They walked calmly alongside the holes until the Viking drew them to a halt.

  “Right, I think this one will do. I’m not going to tell you the significance of these holes for now but I most certainly will when you come back. Suffice to say, this one is a vertical drop and it will propel you into the transient stream below. It will be very quick and you will be whisked into your next embodiment.”

  “How difficult will it be to get back to see you again? I might end up in tunnels days away?” asked Ed curiously.

  “Give me your jacket. As long as I keep that, when you depart there will be a high likelihood you will land within a day’s travel or so of this location. Most people know of me within that radius, so you should be fine to find a way back,” replied the Viking.

  “Okay, here’s my jacket. This is all going so quickly though. I’m not in a rush. There’s so much I wanted to talk to you about, not least of all about being a Viking. Can’t we just back up for a while?” enquired Ed.

  “You’ll be back. I’ve heard your words, you will be back. Trust me. Then we can spend some time together next time. If all goes to plan, that should be in a few days,” replied the Viking.

  “Okay then. I trust you. What do I do next?” replied Ed.

  “Just sit on the edge of this hole facing away from where we walked and just jump in,” replied the
elder man as he folded the jacket in two and put it under his arm.

  “Okay. Well here we go. Hope to see you again soooooooooooooooonnnn,” replied Ed as he sat on the edge of the opening, accidently slipping in and disappearing from sight quicker than a meerkat down a pot hole.

  Chapter 16

  Biltong and smoked salmon

  Ed came round to a barrage of noises that covered the complete spectrum, from Tarzan’s monkey to an aviary of birds chirping in eighth notes. He felt restrained and struggled to move his arms or legs. Underneath and all around he could feel feathered, fidgety warmth that panicked and squirmed with desperation. He tried to turn over to get a better view but remained completely constrained. As he came round more, he could see a muted light leaking through beige material that completely surrounded them.

  Then in a flash the material above opened, letting in floods of light that momentarily dazzled and blinded him. Instinctually he turned his head away, offended by its perverse intensity. Then he saw an overpoweringly large hand reaching through the hole and down over his whole body. Without thinking, he nipped at the invader, forcing it to retreat slightly before reaching down again, this time with more confidence and authority. All around the fervent impassioned noises rang out in a chorus of panic. He felt four massive fingers wrap around and underneath his body whilst a fat thumb completed the lock on top. He was then raised up gently out through the opening. As he fought and squirmed he began to realise he was being removed from a sort of cloth bag filled with other animals. From the noises, he assumed these were some sort of flying creatures, feathered animals, fowl or game.

  Hopefully not a sparrow, he thought as he was pulled from the bag into an all-consuming bath of vivid light.

  As his body span with the movement of the hand, he found it hard to focus on his surroundings until he finally came to rest facing a middle aged and plump man full in the face.