by James Erith
Sue woke with a start. ‘Gus?’ she said, listening to the strange noises coming from him. His head rolled one way and then the other. ‘You alright?’
The boat wobbled and pitched and a sense of being terribly small and insignificant, of being a tiny speck of life in a vast ocean, filled her. She reached across him for the torch, her fingers dabbing at the heavy cloth of the dust sheet. As she did so, her hair brushed across his face.
A moment later he sneezed violently, waking himself up. He sat bolt upright.
Sue flicked on the torch. ‘You OK?’ she said. ‘I think you were having a nightmare.’ She yawned and rested her head on his chest.
Gus blinked. ‘Yeah. Yeah, that’s all.’ He said, trying to get his bearings.
Sue raised herself up and smiled. ‘I think my hair tickled your nose.’
The boat pitched as it rode a larger wave and then rounded the crest and headed down again. For the first time, Sue detected a look of anxiety in Gus’ eyes.
The wind thudded into the side canopy as the boat plunged into the next wave, the doffing sound of water colliding with the helm filling their small cabin.
‘There’s a storm coming,’ he said. His blue eyes were now wide open and, in place of his usual, happy demeanour with his big toothy smile, he wore a frown. The boat lurched and spray showered the canopy. ‘It could be pretty unpleasant.’
Sue spoke very calmly, trying not to betray her nerves. ‘We’ve had it, haven’t we?’ she said.
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ he said, regaining his bravado. ‘The Joan Of survived the worst storm since Noah, so there’s no reason it can’t withstand a wee North Sea gale.’
Sue shivered. ‘So what you’re saying, in Gus-speak, is that we’re stuffed.’
Gus took too long to reply. Finally he sighed and smiling boldly said, ‘Nah, not really. We beat the odds last time, who says we can’t do it again. And anyway, after all we’ve been through, it’ll be a walk in the park.’ He shook his legs out, encouraging blood back into his toes and shuffled down the boat. ‘I’m going to see what’s happening out there, and then we need to batten down the hatches.’ He opened up the makeshift canvas door and slipped outside.
Gus’ over-confidence simply confirmed her worst suspicions. The boat lurched into a bigger wave and water thudded onto the canopy. Sue grabbed her phone and pressed the power button. The phone display lit up.
Moments later she was tapping away furiously. Her first message was to her entire address book:
SOS. Sue Lowden here with Gus Williams. In small rowing boat in the North Sea. Sucked out in storm. Gale coming. No idea where we are. HELP!
Her second was to Isabella. A thought had been niggling away at her.
Me here. Not looking good. G being v brave me less so. Have you found clues? In your house – like pictures. You MUST find them. Sounds mad but think important. If don’t speak, love you very much. Sue – n Gus. xxx
Sue noted the bars of the battery sinking to red. One more.
M & D, love you so much. If you get this, I’m stuck out at sea. Don’t worry – never been happier. Thanks for all you have done. I love you xxx
THE JOAN Of jolted viciously and Sue, off balance, dropped the phone. It landed in the water at the bottom of the boat with a splash.
Gus put his head back under the canopy, his head soaked. ‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’
‘Uh,’ Sue said as she picked up her phone.
‘I said, good news, or bad news?’
Gus sat on the end of the bench and waited for her response. If he could have seen her face he’d have noticed tears trailing down her cheeks. ‘Anyone there?’ he asked.
Sue wiped the handset and then her eyes. ‘Bad news,’ Sue croaked.
Gus smiled his big toothy smile. ‘Ace. Right, the bad news is that it’s quite a big one.’
‘Big what?’
‘Bag of bananas, you monkey! Storm! What do you think?’
Sue shivered. ‘And the good?’
‘Lights! I can see lights!’ He was shouting. ‘Look … there, can you see it? A lighthouse.’
Sue crawled down the boat and, for a moment, as she popped her head out, she caught the blink of a light way off in the distance. Her muscles tensed and her eyes widened. Was it one mile off or ten miles away? ‘How far?’ she shouted.
‘I don’t know,’ he yelled back. ‘I’d get a better idea if the waves weren’t so big.’
For the first time, now that her eyes had fully adjusted to the murky gloom, she could see the wild seas frothing and chopping nearby. A huge, dark wave loomed up. Before she had a chance to move, it broke. She dived inside. The canopy sagged for a moment and then sprang back.
Gus immediately pulled the sail, the umbrella they used as a water holder and other odds and ends into the boat. He secured their food package with a rope, tying it against the bottom of the seat. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘have some.’ He threw her a bag of crisps and a water bottle. ‘Drink.’
Sue did as she was told.
‘Now,’ he said, handing her an assortment of chocolates. ‘Tuck these in your pockets. Just in case.’
She grabbed them and pushed two into her jeans and another lot into her jacket.
‘I’m scared, Gus,’ she said.
He grinned back. ‘Have no fear, we’ll be fine,’ he replied as another wave assaulted the canopy. Quick as a flash Gus was bailing water. Sue joined in and, for the time being at least, the water in the boat took their mind off the storm.
He lay down, Sue next to him gulping in air. She was shaking. He draped an arm round her. ‘Sue, believe me, everything will work out, fine and dandy,’ he said softly.
She trembled. Gus knew it wasn’t from the cold. He needed her to be strong. ‘Look, it’s like at the end of the film, Titanic,’ he said. ‘Remember? When Leonardo DiCaprio holds Kate and they’re in the freezing cold water but they keep going until they get rescued—’
‘But HE dies,’ Sue shot back.
‘Yeah, but he kept her alive, somehow, right to the bitter end. And you know what, I’m going to keep you alive too. Anyway, in our version, it isn’t that cold, we’re very close to land and you’ve put out an SOS – haven’t you?’ He held her harder and turned to her, his eyes wide. ‘You have, haven’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘So there you go, it’s tons easier. And we’re not in a hulking great boat in the middle of the North Atlantic, we’re in a tiny rowing boat, somewhere off the coast of … somewhere. So safety is pretty much guaranteed. It’s a piece of cake. And, there’s another thing,’ he said, his grin returning, ‘you’re way prettier than Leo’s Kate.’ He kissed her forehead.
Sue snuggled into his chest as the boat groaned under the thrust of a wave which bashed the boat first one way and then the other. It lurched wretchedly, like a ride at the fair, and she felt they might suddenly tip over.
A horrible sickness swept through her.
Gus’ eyes sparkled and then he started laughing. He got up and stumbled to the end of the boat, grabbed the large container that was filled with fresh water, took a deep swig and filled up his water bottle. He turned. ‘You want some?’
Sue hardly dared move but she reckoned a bit of water might make her feel less queasy. She nodded and slid along the bench, not daring for a minute to let go. Sue gulped at the water, instantly regretting it. Her stomach churned.
Gus tied the rope around his wrist, pulling the plastic barrel after him. Then he pushed the barrel out and began pouring the water out into the sea.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Sue screamed.
‘Buoyancy aid,’ he grinned. ‘If we go down, and of course it’s a massive “if”, it would be a shame if we were to drown.’
‘But we need water, Gus!’
‘We’ve got enough,’ he shrugged and tapped the water bottle as a wave threw him against the canopy. His grin grew and his eyes shone.
‘We’ll f
reeze!’
‘Nah! Course we won’t.’
A roller smashed the canopy and Sue cowered down, trembling.
Gus stumbled over. ‘The fact is,’ he said, ‘we’re near the coast. I can sense it. So either it’s a short swim, or The Joan Of gets wrecked, and a boat comes along and picks us up – or a helicopter – wouldn’t that be cool?’
‘No, it would not be!’
‘Aw, come on, liven up a bit. We’re on the verge of getting out of the boat.’
‘You’re insane, Gus Williams. Totally bloody bonkers.’
Gus mocked a pained look.
Sue thumped him on the arm. ‘OK – utterly gorgeous, but still bloody bonkers,’ she added.
Gus tied a section of wood onto the handle of the barrel with some rope and settled into his construction mode.
Sue watched, admiring his speed and concentration.
‘Oh God, I’m going to be sick,’ she said, her hand moving to her mouth. Holding tightly onto the seat and using the rocking motion of the boat, she slipped towards the canopy entrance. As she leaned out a wave smashed her in the face. She reeled and put her head back in and shrieked, shaking the water out of her hair.
Gus laughed.
‘Oh shut up,’ she said, as she put her head back outside and let fly. Her body felt green and deathly. When she opened her eyes, she tried to figure out what she was staring at. A large, black, towering hulk right in front of her. And then it was lost behind a wall of water. Was it a boat, a cliff or something else?
She scrambled in as Gus was tying the other end of the plank onto one of the buoyancy containers. ‘What is it?’ she said.
‘What’s what?’
‘The big – sodding great thing – out there.’
Gus smiled. ‘Cliffs, probably.’
‘Cliffs? Is that good or bad?’ her attention turned to his contraption. ‘What are you doing?’
Gus’ eyes sparkled in the torchlight. ‘This, my little vomit comet, is our life raft.’
‘That?!’
Gus looked taken aback. ‘Yeah. It’s brilliant. You got any better ideas?’ His eyes darted to the bottom of the boat where, for the first time, she noted there was a considerable body of water swishing around.
‘Bail!’ she cried. ‘We’ve taken on too much water.’ Immediately Sue reached for the bailing bucket, her arms flailing in the darkness. She found it but, as she bent to scoop, she was thrown to the other side of the vessel. A strong hand pulled her up. Gus looked deep into her eyes.
‘Sue. The boat is leaking. There must be a small hole somewhere. No amount of bailing can save The Joan Of. Not now, not in this.’
After all they’d been through, she could hardly believe it. ‘So we’re going to sink?’
Gus pushed on the torch. ‘Nah,’ he said, shining the torch in his face in a mock spooky way. ‘This is the part where we disembark. You just have to hold on, you understand? Do exactly as I say.’
Sue summoned her strength and nodded through her tears.
‘So now you’re Kate, like in Titanic, and I’m Leo.’ He kissed her. ‘OK? Whatever you do, don’t let go. Promise me you won’t let go.’
Sue threw herself at him and hugged him tight. Somehow, deep down, she trusted him with her whole soul. If Gus said they’d survive, they would. Everything else had worked. Why not this?
Gus noted the water was up to his knees. He slipped out of their embrace, opened his penknife and thrust it through the canvas, the blade ripping the canopy in a neat line.
In no time, the full force of the gale was upon them, blowing hard, the vessel filling with water. In the dim light they could see into the night beyond. On one side loomed a cliff and on the other … a boat. Sue’s heart soared. Did the boat even know they were there?
She turned to Gus. ‘Look!’
He turned back, his face bursting with a smile and his eyes dancing like little stars in the dull night sky. ‘Hold on, my Kate,’ he said. ‘That’s all you’ve got to do.’
Sue smiled back. She’d hold on for Gus this day and every day henceforth.
And, before she had the chance to dwell on it, a huge wave engulfed The Joan Of.
Gus’ big toothy smile was the last thing she remembered as her world was churned upside down and inside out.
SEVENTY-THREE
STUCK FOR ETERNITY
She heard the noise while they were playing a game she had made up many centuries ago. The game centred on a bundle of cobweb silks the size of small peas: on the poke of a leg, she made a faint clap of her old hands or a wheezy cough and, on that signal, the little dreamspinners flicked mini balls of spider web silks towards each other’s magholes. If they succeeded, a small puff of smoke burst on a very surprised little dreamspinner. So the best effect was when a multitude of pellets exploded on one maghole and as such a sophisticated game of sending secret messages about ganging-up on one another had begun.
Smaller dreamspinners never tired of this simple amusement. The powdered remains were shared out and re-manipulated into balls by the baby creatures and the game continued until fatigue overtook them or the spider web bundles ran out or an elder dreamspinner told them to quieten down.
After the Great Closing of Eden the dreamspinners discovered the Ancient Woman in the small rooms below the vast storage area of spider web dream powders. Her eyes had been gouged out and she could never leave. She was part of their family now and they looked after her with food and water as she required.
She was immortal, and the dreamspinners knew she would never die, so this nourishment prevented her body withering away to nothing. But many long years of solitude had left her physically wretched. Her skeletal frame was overhung with her own coarse, over-sized skin, her bony skull had but a few wisps of hair, her empty eye sockets were hollow, like dark holes, and the nails on her fingers long and curling like spiders’ legs.
To the Ancient Woman, the dreamspinners appeared in her mind as clever, shy, solitary creatures concerned only with making and giving dreams. As the trust between them grew, and as a great passage of time crept by, she understood the immense influence of these strange, unknown, dream-giving spiders. And slowly she learnt about dreams.
She discovered how dreamspinners blended old and new spider web silks into all sorts of powerful and exotic concoctions. She was amazed to learn that these strange creatures had no interest in manipulating their power and begged them to allow her to try out new dream powder combinations in order to understand what effects they might have.
Much later, she manipulated their dream powders to give herself dreams that lasted for days, dreams where she could lose herself, free her imagination to wander and forget the perpetual darkness, the anguish and her desperate boredom. In this state she could fall in love again, dance in the fields of the Garden of Eden once more, ride the giant horses on the glorious pink Tomberlacker Plains, talk to her children … kiss them, hug them and teach them all the things she knew … and do it again and again.
And she did, until her heart ached like a balloon at bursting point.
In the Atrium of The Garden of Eden, the dreamspinners provided her with a degree of comfort from the solitude and darkness, while she waited and waited for the arrival of the Heirs of Eden. Yet ever at the back of her mind was the knowledge that if Eden was to open, she would never see its beauty and splendour.
She heard it again. A sound from the outside; a sound that had haunted her for thousands of years. She listened harder.
The gentle thuds both thrilled her and injected her with unimaginable dread. Someone or something walked in the dust in the great chamber above.
Her mind sparked into life. Instantly, she pulled her tiny, bony frame off the ground and made her way up the curving staircase. Her body, so ancient and pathetic, made it hard for her to move. With every step, her wasted muscles screamed out in pain. She forced herself on, her heart pumping furiously, energy flowing through each and every vein as she diligently struggled up the worn treads
.
At about the halfway mark, she paused for breath, exhausted. All she could hear was her thumping heart and the rasping sound of air trying to squeeze into her withered lungs.
After recovering her poise, she listened again. Yes, she could quite clearly hear footsteps walking in the Atrium.
An Heir of Eden, perhaps? But why only one? Had they failed already?
She urged herself on, each step more painful than the last. At the top, she felt for the wooden cane. With this she could guide herself into her half of the great chamber. She leant hard on her stick, her body begging for a rest. She shuffled a few paces and stopped to listen, her lungs wheezing like wind through dry leaves. She sensed the person moving away.
‘Come on! MOVE legs, MOVE body,’ she cackled.
Then she heard a sound she hadn’t expected. A loud—
CRACK!
The stick, which had supported her for so long, gave way beneath her, snapping clean in two. The old woman landed awkwardly. A strange pain ricocheted through her body.
She ran a hand down her leg. She felt something sharp and fragmented. It wasn’t the stick, it was her thighbone – a shattered piece that had speared through her flesh.
When her brain realised the extent of the injury, pain coursed through her and she screamed in agony.
Moments later, as she regained consciousness, she heard another sound so haunting that it chilled her to the core. It was the unmistakable noise of a giant whirring fan, a sound she had often heard before she was abandoned; a noise that had troubled, haunted and eluded her ever since – the distinct whirr of the Great Door for those leaving the Garden of Eden.
Her wails that followed spoke of utter misery; of agony on a totally different scale and intensity. ‘When will this wretchedness … this cruelty end?’ she cried out to the empty cavern. ‘Finish this. End this. PLEASE … please,’ she implored. Her sobs trailed off unheard along the empty tunnels. ‘Haven’t I suffered enough?’
Lying at the top of the stairs, thoughts tumbled back. She recalled how her family had been so happy in the Garden of Eden before the punishment of immortality. She remembered their love, and, although she hadn’t minded it at first, the emptiness she felt after Cain, Abel and Seth had flown the nest, left her with a sadness that grew like a cancer.
