Homecoming

by Kent, Jonathan

  Dave wasn't a big believer in coincidences.

  Thankfully his injuries hadn't come over with him, but this left him without the ability to properly check them out. He knew he was getting short of breath and he knew the rasping noises coming from his side suggested something quite serious. Punctured lung? God he hoped not.

  Ok, he thought. What to do?

  He had crossed over before to avoid his father's beatings and dealt with the aftermath when he crossed back. He had been sore - sometimes unbearably so - but somehow it was nowhere near as bad as actually going through it. Again, this time of crossing was different. He had been injured before crossing (a part of him believed the injuries might have actually made him cross) and so logic would suggest that when he crossed back the pain and discomfort would not have lessened.

  This was troubling in many ways. Firstly he had no idea how bad he was; he could be crossing back into an unconscious body and then he would be no good to anyone, let alone himself. Secondly, even if he did manage to remain conscious, he wasn't in any particular position to help himself before so why would it be any different now. Thirdly, and most worryingly of all, the thought had actually crossed his mind that he was already dead and that maybe he had nothing to cross back to.

  All of these things were bad enough, but coupled with the thought of crossing back to face the owner of that hideous voice left Dave in a very sticky situation indeed. No matter how comforting he found it back on his beach, sooner or later he would have to cross back into a dangerously injured body and face the person that was waiting for him back there.

  He looked out to sea. As usual the sun was low on the horizon. Not quite sunset but very nearly so. Judging by the trips he had made in the past, he had about two hours before darkness fell. Two hours to get himself out of this.

  He walked down to the water’s edge and tried to skim a couple of pebbles. It wasn’t a party trick he had ever been particularly good at and each pebble sunk listlessly without a skip in sight. The sound they made was a lifeless plop in a pretty much lifeless sea.

  ‘What have I got myself into?’ He said aloud. ‘What the hell am I going to do?’ He threw another pebble into the sea and turned back to walk up the beach. As he neared the top, two gulls swooped towards him letting out uninterested squawks. He stood at the top for about a minute, turned right and started walking down the length of the beach. By his reckoning and judging by the position of the setting sun, he was walking due south. He wasn’t walking for any other reason than just to walk. Just to get his head around this particular problem. That was when he literally stumbled over the first part of the message.

  He had been walking for perhaps five minutes with the pebbles digging into the soles of his bare feet. The small ones were the worst with their nasty sharp edges making him catch his breath each time one caught the soft part of his arches. He had to walk with his head down looking out for the big flat pebbles and trying to skip from one large one to the next.

  He made a big leap for a nice flat one, but it shifted as his weight landed and he fell flat on his arse. He sat up and the big pebble was between his knees. Written in big black capital letters covering the whole surface of the pebble was the word COME.

  Dave sat staring at the pebble for what felt like an hour, but was probably more like thirty seconds. Never in all his travels had he seen anything like this. Never had he seen any sign of human activity. Unless it was a world he had specifically created that had signs or notices, he had never seen any writing at all. Complicated ‘scenes’ were very hard to create as the more complicated you made it, the more likely it was to go wrong. His mother had always urged him to keep it simple not only because of the potential pitfalls but also for it to be accessed at short notice. A nice simple beach or field was quicker and easier to picture when in a pinch.

  He picked the pebble up and turned it over in his hands. There was nothing written on the reverse just the dull grey of a standard beach pebble. He looked around, and about five metres further up the beach, he saw another large flat pebble. This one had the word ME written in the same stark lettering. He walked to it, picked it up and saw a third waiting for him again a few metres along his intended path. This one said FIND.

  Dave looked up the beach but saw no more words. He retraced his steps looking for any more big flat pebbles. He found a few - but all were blank. It would seem he had the full message: COME FIND ME.

  'Come find me,’ he said aloud. 'Find who? Why has everything gotta be so bloody cryptic?'

  He turned around thinking someone was behind him, but it was still just him, alone on the beach. The sun had sunk a little lower in the sky.

  How long have I been here? It felt like about ten minutes but it was probably closer to an hour which meant he was rapidly running out of time.

  Right think Davey boy, he thought. Who has left you a message? Why? And how?

  The logical answer to this question was his mother. She was the only one who knew that he knew about this place. He supposed it could have been his aunt Andrea, but he didn’t think his mother had told her how much he really knew.

  There was also the possibility that it could be someone else. A complete stranger. He had never seen signs of another person in this world. But there was always that thought in the back of his mind that there must be others that had access to this place - not many - but there must be more than just Dave, his mother and her sister Andrea that came here. There had to be, hadn’t there?

  ‘Ok mum,’ he said. ‘You want me to find you………………..but where are you?’

  The sun was even lower now and he calculated about another thirty minutes until complete dark. A breeze had picked up off the sea and he shivered in his thin clothes. To Dave there was only really one logical course of action; he had to cross back. His mother wanted Dave to find her and he had a sinking feeling that she too was in trouble. It may have something to do with the owner of that voice back in the house and if so, Dave didn’t think it would be good news.

  Whatever his fears and whatever his injuries, he had to cross back. That much was now abundantly clear. He had to hope that the ninety minutes or so he had spent over here had helped his body recover because he knew that the minute he crossed back he had to be ready to roll.

  Crossing back was virtually the same process as crossing over. Picture where you were clearly in your head and then POP, over you went. It was nowhere near as risky as crossing over to one of your creations and even if your visualisation wasn’t one hundred percent, he had never failed to simply pop back into his body. So that’s what Dave did. He sat on the pebbles, closed his eyes and pictured himself lying on his old garage floor.

  But nothing happened.

  He opened his eyes and he was still on the beach. No POP. No change in temperature. Nothing. Just sat where he was. He tried again. Nothing. A twang of panic shot across his stomach. On a day filled with firsts, this again was new.

  ‘What the fuck,’ he said aloud, and tried again. Still nothing. This had never happened before and his mother had never warned him about this eventuality. Time was growing incredibly short. He could already hear the slug creatures stirring about half a mile from his current position and in about fifteen minutes they would start to become very agile indeed. By their stirrings he reckoned they could already smell him and if he didn’t cross back pretty quickly he was going to learn first-hand what dying on the other side was all about.

  He stood up and again walked down to the water’s edge. The sun was a small speck on the horizon and his last thought as the true light winked out of the day was. If I can just avoid the slugs, how bad can it be?

  The answer was a lot worse than he could have possibly imagined.

  Chapter 12

  At first nothing particular happened. Although the sun had gone down, there was still some residual light for a further thirty minutes. The slugs had grown restless and had begun to encroach onto the beach, but for now only very slowly. They could obviously sense hi
m, but because it wasn’t total dark, they hadn’t yet made any direct movement towards him.

  Dave knew the other end of the beach was perhaps three miles in the opposite direction, which meant the slugs coming from there would be a long way off. He turned and started to walk away from the gurgling slugs when something thick and muscular slithered from the sea, wrapped itself around his leg and pulled him off his feet.

  For want of a better word, it was a tentacle.

  The light wasn’t good enough for him to see the owner of the tentacle, but he could sense its strength. He could feel the muscles working beneath the creature's’ skin as it tightened around his leg. The pain was unbearable. Not only was the tentacle crushing his ankle, it must have been secreting something too as his leg began to burn and smoulder; he literally could smell his own skin burning.

  If coming down to the water’s edge this close to full dark had been a mistake then screaming at the top of his lungs was his second. At the sound of his screams the slugs, still two or three hundred yards away let out a deep gargle and bounded across the shingle towards him. He was again struck by how fast the things moved. Just then, a second tentacle snaked its way from the water and wound its way around his other leg. Dave let out another piercing scream and the as yet unseen creature pulled him below the surface.

  Usually, after some traumatic event, the mind has some vivid clarity to it and no matter how horrific the incident you can normally recall every minute detail. This was not the case with Dave's encounter on the shoreline. The whole incident was a complete blur.

  Some three hours later, Dave was sat at the highest point on the beach shivering in the freshening night air. His now totally inadequate clothing was giving him no protection at all, but at least he was still breathing. Three hours ago this was by no means a certainty.

  The tentacles had pulled him off his feet and dragged him under the surface. He had tried to struggle and fight but apart from the two tentacles, there was nothing to fight against. Chesil beach was well renowned for not being particularly suitable for swimmers due to its strong undercurrents and steep gradients and very quickly Dave was in well over his head. He tried to thrash and shake himself loose, but the power of the thing was frightening. He was powerless.

  This is it, he thought. This is how it all ends. Drowned and eaten alive in an imaginary world.

  There were no flashing images of his family, but there definitely came a point when he stopped fighting the inevitable. His body relaxed and he let the creature take him. Then, just as suddenly as the initial attack, both his legs were free.

  At first he hadn't realised what was happening. He had been holding his breath the entire time and his lungs were burning, screaming for air. He was on the verge of losing consciousness and letting his body take the deep breath it was so desperate for, when he felt himself floating to the surface. He came up and gasped down a huge deep breath which made him choke and then realised the water all around him was churning like a huge natural Jacuzzi. It was pitch dark, he was totally disorientated, but somehow he made it to the shore and forced himself to crawl up the pebbles. Behind him the sea surged and boiled but he still had no idea what was going on. Something huge and gurgling rushed past him and there was an almighty roar followed by a splash as what he supposed was another of the giant slugs leaped into the water to fight the sea creature.

  The slugs he had feared so much had turned out to be his salvation.

  He had crawled his way up to his current position as the fight raged on behind him. At one point he heard movement to his right as more slugs from the other end of the beach joined the fun. Then, after about thirty minutes there was an almighty crunch and one of the slugs let out a triumphant roar. After this there was no more thrashing, just the odd squelching and slurping sounds as what he supposed was slugs enjoying their version of a fish dinner.

  So here he sat, bitterly cold, listening to the creatures feast on the shoreline. Nothing moved up the beach towards him and for most of the night they just continued to eat. Seemingly they had lost all interest in Dave.

  He eased himself over the highest point of the beach to the leeward side, where he had slightly more shelter from the wind coming from the sea. He fashioned a rudimentary fox hole and curled himself into it. The night seemed endless, but after a few hours, exhaustion overcame him and he drifted into a restful sleep.

  Just a lonely cold man curled up on a peculiar beach under a jet black starless sky.

  He awoke to the sound of the slugs moving back to their respective ends of the beach. The sky was a dull grey rather than black and he calculated it was probably about thirty minutes to sunrise. His body ached from the exertions with the sea beast, his stomach was grumbling from lack of food but what was troubling him more than anything was thirst. He couldn't remember the last time he had had a drink of water - certainly not since arriving at his parents’ house - and being trapped on a beach meant the possibility of having a drink any time soon was very slim.

  Water, water everywhere, he thought. But not a drop to drink.

  He crawled out of his foxhole and again sat on the highest point of the shingles. He tried crossing back again but just as he suspected, nothing happened. For the time being something - or someone - wanted to keep him over here.

  Below him were the leftovers of the slug’s feast, a huge unidentifiable carcass ripped apart, shredded and laid out on the shoreline. The waves as they broke left a crimson sheen on the pebbles.

  He stood up and cracked his back, it was starting to seize up after his long night on the pebbles. He looked down the length of the beach and to his surprise saw a thin plume of smoke drifting up from a small fire about half a mile away; certainly not something Dave was expecting to see this morning.

  The sun was just starting to break through as he made his way down the slope towards the fire. From where he was, he couldn’t see anyone there but the fire was burning nicely as if it hadn’t been lit long. As he drew nearer he saw a small green rucksack and what looked like rolled up blankets. Over the fire was a spit with some meat browning nicely whilst a pan of water boiled beside it.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Is anybody there?’ He sensed movement out of the corner of his eye, turned and saw his thirteen year old sister Katy nimbly walking down the beach towards him.

  ‘What the fuck!’ he said.

  ‘Good morning Davey,’ she said. ‘How do you like your squid?’

  In a movie, at about this point our protagonist would normally faint at the sight of his dead sister appearing before him, but Dave just stood there mouth agape like some cheaply drawn cartoon caricature.

  ‘Close your mouth Davey,’ she said. ‘There’s a bus coming. Now sit down before you fall down. Tea has just brewed and the squid is pretty much done. It can be a bit chewy, but it tastes divine.’ She dragged out this last word like a proper luvvy tasting some exotic fruit.

  She handed him a mug of steaming tea which he gulped down despite it burning his tongue. Then she offered him a small plate with three chunks of meat sitting on it, he took the smallest piece and tentatively took a bite. The flavour flooded his mouth and his stomach reminded him exactly how long he’d been without food. He quickly devoured the rest of the plate and the second and third helpings she offered.

  'Better?' she asked.

  His mouth was still full with the squid so he could only nod. He swallowed it and chased it down with another gulp of tea.

  'Where did you get the squid from?'

  Katy raised an eyebrow and looked past Dave's right shoulder.

  'Oh.......' he said. 'I see.'

  'I mean I call it squid, but after the slugs have finished with them, it’s kinda hard to tell what it is.’ She took a bite of meat herself. 'They only really come close to the shore at night, so I just get to see the.....you know......the aftermath.’

  He nodded his understanding and wolfed down another plateful. He could feel his body regaining its energy with each mouthful of food.

>   'Were you here last night?' he asked, composure slowly settling in.

  'God no!' She exclaimed. 'It's a lovely place you've dreamt up here. But far too dangerous. Didn't mum ever tell you to avoid water?'

  'Avoid?'

  'Yeah, you know, not to create any worlds with water. Far too many things can hide in water.’

  'No, I suppose she must have skipped that part,’ he said.

  Katy was exactly how he remembered her. Tall - she was one of the tallest in her class - long brown hair that she hardly ever brushed; piercing blue eyes and a splattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her parents had called her Katy-bear and the last time he had seen her, she had been almost cut in half pinned between a car bonnet and their old house.

  'How can this be?', he asked.

  'A bit weird innit,’ she said.

  'Weird doesn't even cover it, I mean how can you be here? How is that even possible?’

  'It isn't possible and I'm not really here Davey, we need to get that straight. I'm dead............you saw me die. That happened years ago, and that can't be changed. I'm here because mum wants me here.’

  'Mum? But how? What's going on Kate? None of this is making any sense.’

  'OK Davey, I'll try to explain, but you need to understand I'm only the messenger here, or maybe more like a guide. Mum has sent me to come get you. To bring you back to her. She needs your help and we are running out of time'.

  'Where is she Kate? Where's mum?’ he said. The tension had returned to his stomach.

  'She's safe,’ Katy said 'She's in her primer.’

  At first he thought she said his mum was in her prime, which didn't make a lot of sense as she was in her seventies. Also, it seemed a little off subject.

  'She's in her what?' He asked.

  'Christ, she really didn't tell you much did she? Mum is in her Primer, you know, her main place......like this.’ She spread her arms out signalling the beach. 'This beach is your Primer - the first place you imagined. Your kind of fallback world. All your other worlds come from this one. It's sorta your way in. Do you understand?'