Chapter Five - And The Walls Came Tumbling Down

Chapter Five

“Gracious, that was close,” Jericho said in that irritatingly calm way he had of understating every situation. “And most certainly not what I was expecting.” He pulled the handbrake on and unfastened his seat belt. “I recommend you stay where you are whilst I investigate.”

His advice was unnecessary; even if Jack had the intention of going anywhere, his body had a totally different idea. He watched Jericho cautiously approach the van, the doors of which—front and rear—were wide open, as if the occupants had dumped it and run off into the fields. Jack glanced around to see if there were any trails of bent corn, but there was nothing. Maybe they’ve been abducted by aliens. Or worse still, government secret agents, in which case, they could still be waiting for more victims for their terrible experiments. He was about to warn Jericho when a voice in the back of his mind courteously pointed out that, firstly, it was no surprise he was hearing voices, and secondly, he was being absurd.

Maybe, he told himself, managing a modicum more sense this time, they ran out of fuel and are travelling by foot to the nearest petrol station. Yes, that’s it. Pleased he’d found a rational explanation for at least one thing, he switched his attention back to Jericho, who had completed his investigation of the cab and now strolled around the back of the van, where he paused to peer inside and then closed the doors. He returned to the four-by-four and stopped at Jack’s window, indicating that he should open it, which he did.

“Can you drive?”

“I passed my test, but I’ve not driven since, and I’ve never driven a van.”

“No problem. I will simply move it off the road. We can collect it later, assuming it’s still there, which it very well may not be. I’m sure they will be absolutely fine for now.” Jericho returned to the van and reversed it back into a passing point. A moment later, he climbed in beside Jack.

“Who?” Jack asked.

“Pardon me?”

“Who will be fine?”

“The three chaps in the back of the van. They’re entirely unconscious, of course. I imagine they won’t come round for a good few hours. I also believe we’ll locate the driver shortly, so you may not have to drive it back to the house after all.”

“Right,” Jack responded hazily. “Of course. Unconscious. In the back of the van, you say?”

“It’s not so difficult a concept to grasp. Buckle up.” Jericho turned the ignition key and revved the engine. Jack looked down and found that, sure enough, his seat belt was no longer fastened, although he had no recollection of unfastening it. He hastily pulled it across his lap and pushed the clasp home as Jericho turned a sharp left up towards the caves.

Back in year ten, when he’d had Mr. Savage for geography, Jack’s class had been on a field trip to the caves. It was the one and only time he’d visited them, and he’d been long past believing Miss Upton’s tales of pirates and smugglers, but he’d enjoyed that trip. The strange glow of the crystals and the petrified objects hung there by previous visitors had fascinated him, much to the amusement of some of his ‘cooler’ classmates. He didn’t care, because, for once, Hannah wasn’t there. The week before the trip, she’d broken her ankle playing hockey, and the school’s insurance wouldn’t cover her to explore the caves on crutches. Mum had promised they’d go as a family once Hannah’s ankle had healed, except they never did, and Jack was glad—not that his sister had hurt herself, but that he’d finally achieved something she hadn’t, albeit nothing more exciting than a school trip to the local caves.

After the tour, they were given time to roam on their own, with strict instructions to obey the rules posted all over the place. They’d already been to the farthest point tourists were allowed to go, where there was a huge, red-lettered sign, which read:

DANGER! FALLING ROCKS!

DO NOT PASS BEYOND THIS SIGN!

No-one in their right mind would be stupid enough to ignore a warning like that, in red block capital letters, and with three exclamation marks.

Or no-one aside from an unpopular fourteen-year-old Jack Davies dared by his friends. Even now, the thrill of his defiance made him shiver—or maybe it was the memory of the concussion.

He edged along the wall, past the sign and into the invisible darkness beyond, armed only with the pen torch he used for reading under the bedclothes at night. It barely pierced a hole in the black void, and his heart was thumping so hard that the din drowned out the sound of his feet shuffling across the uneven, wet stone and the distant calls of his classmates egging him on.

The passage narrowed, closing in all around him. He felt the cold stone above disturbing his hair and put out his hand to feel in advance for any sudden reduction in headroom. Slowly, he edged on, the gush of a waterfall not too far ahead, the passage only as wide as his hips, his neck bent. Still, he kept going, enchanted by his torch’s beam reflecting off the quartz in the rocks surrounding him and creating little prisms that twinkled all the colours of the spectrum.

With one last blinding flash, his torch packed up, and he was plunged into absolute nothingness. Panicked, he spun to face the opposite direction—the tiny dot of light and sounds of the cave he had left behind. He started to run, his trainers squelching and slipping against the wet stone, stumbling through the darkness, his imagination running riot. There’s someone behind me… He tumbled forward…

That was the last thing he’d remembered before coming to on a black vinyl bench in the first-aid hut, with an ice pack on his scalp and the worst headache in the world.

***

“Here we are,” Jericho said, announcing their arrival in the overflow car park on the opposite side of the road to the caves. “We should be all right over here.”

His choice of a space at the farthest end made sense as soon as Jack saw the main car park, or what was left of it. And there, right on the edge of the broken tarmac, was a transit van. It took a prod from Jericho to garner Jack’s attention, and together, they crossed the road to the caves.

“That looks exactly the same as the one we just passed,” Jack said, unable to shift his eyes from the van. It may have been his imagination, but he was sure it was rocking forward.

“Indeed it does,” Jericho agreed. “Because it is. The very same vehicle, in fact. Which is…intriguing. Still, what is theoretical research without the challenge of unanswered questions?” Jericho beamed to himself and strode ahead to the café.

Jack fell back briefly and then quickened his pace in an attempt to keep up, all the while looking back at the van and the tarmac precipice beyond.

Stepping into the café was…bliss. It was warm and cosy, with the smell of cakes and tea permeating the air. Jack’s belly rumbled in anticipation; with his love of a good cuppa, a scone and a newspaper, he’d long ago decided he’d make an excellent old man.

“And here he is.” The voice came from the far end of the counter, where a stocky, older woman was sitting. Either that or she was really short. It was hard to tell with her lower body obscured by a swathe of multicoloured wool that trailed across the floor. Standing in front of her, with her back to Jack and Jericho, was a slender woman in a suit and high heels. She turned to see who the newcomers were, and Jack did a double-take.

He recognised her immediately. How could he not when she was on TV every evening? Kelsey Brown, roving reporter for Blaze News.

She eyed Jack carefully for a moment, then Jericho, then Jack again. “What are you doing here?” she asked curtly.

“I, err, well, it’s…” Jack stuttered, smiled nervously, felt the corner of his mouth twitch a couple of times, and gave up. Kelsey Brown. Fancy that.

“Mrs. Pemburton,” Jericho boomed, startling Jack out of his trance. With two giant strides and a mile-wide grin, Jericho advanced on the woman with the wool, completely bypassing Kelsey as if she didn’t exist. “How good it is to see you again.” Jericho embraced the woman fondly.

“And you, Professor,” came the woman’s muffled reply.

Jack peered around to see if anyone else was paying attention to the bizarre scene playing out before them. At one table, a pair of tour guides were lying across the seats with their hats pulled down over their faces. Sitting at another table was a man Jack could have sworn he’d seen before but couldn’t quite place. It happened a lot, given that he worked in a fish and chip shop. Or used to. Whatever, the chances were the man had, at some point, been into the shop and Jack had served him.

It was safe to say that the cake the man was presently devouring was a sight more delicious than anything Jack had ever served him—carrot cake, presumably, given the top was covered in white frosting and tiny fondant carrots, and a very large piece at that. Jack’s mouth was watering, and he was staring, but what did it matter? No-one was paying attention, to him, or the woman with the woolly—what is that thing? A scarf?—or to Professor Jericho.

Or Kelsey Brown.

“Jack Davies. I haven’t seen you since…God knows. How’ve you been? You’re looking well.” Her words held no sincerity whatsoever.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling from one foot to the other. All the crazy stuff that had happened recently and he was instantly turned into a gibbering idiot by the girl who had followed him like a lost puppy through the last two years of school. She was slim back then, too, but not in a healthy way. Her shoulders and cheekbones were like the pointy end of an anvil, and her hair was a dull brown, hanging lankly over her face. He’d not been one to judge a person by their appearance, and in truth, he’d rather liked the attention, but he wasn’t ready for girls at that time. He wasn’t really ready for them now, either.

“You look great,” he managed to add to his previous three words, but that was all he could muster. On the other hand, Jericho and the scarf woman seemed to be having a far more successful reunion.

“Yesterday evening?” Jericho laughed. “Fancy that. And it’s been almost a month, hasn’t it, Jack?”

“What?” Jack had only caught the tail end of their conversation.

“I was saying, it’s almost a month since you arrived in—or rather—at my house.”

“Um. Yes.” Jack nodded, happy to take Jericho’s word for it. He’d given up trying to gauge the passage of time for himself, and that was before his watch started playing up. And the duplicate vans. And Kelsey Brown. And now the scarf woman was heading his way with her arms outstretched.

“Well, look at you,” she said, cupping his cheeks. “Professor Jericho has been looking after you, I see.” She smiled kindly, and Jack got another flicker of uneasy familiarity. He returned the smile but kept his eyes averted. The affectionate gesture reminded him of Great Aunty Mabel. Maybe she’s still alive here? Except Mabel had died two years ago and she’d been in her eighties, whereas the woman holding his face looked to be in her fifties, at most. Unless we’ve gone back in time…but then, I wouldn’t have been born yet.

“And how are they holding up, Mrs. P.?” Jericho asked. His gaze passed over the three other people in the café.

“Rather well, if I do say so myself.” She released Jack and lifted the lid from a cake tray on the counter, revealing three enormous cakes, all with segments missing. “The carrot cake worked a treat on the fellow over there.” She indicated towards the man Jack had half recognised. “The other two have been asleep most of the day, so I’ve left them alone. Would you like some?” she asked.

It took Jack a moment to realise the question was directed at him, and he wasn’t sure how to respond because he really wanted some cake. “I, well, I think—”

“And a cup of tea with plenty of sugar,” she said, squeezing herself in behind the counter and setting out cups for the tea. Jack looked to Jericho for guidance.

“Time is something we have plenty of. Eat!” He smiled reassuringly and finally addressed Kelsey. “Have you tried the carrot cake, young lady?”

“She refused it,” Mrs. Pemburton explained on Kelsey’s behalf, passing a mug and a loaded plate to Jack, who muttered his thanks and went to sit at the nearest table.

“Hmm. Most unusual,” Jericho mused, circling Kelsey as if she were an abstract sculpture he couldn’t quite make sense of. Whenever Jericho was thinking about something, he pinched the end of his chin between his thumb and forefinger, like he was tugging an invisible beard. “And you feel well, do you, Miss?”

“I feel perfectly fine,” Kelsey replied sharply. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

“No reason at all,” Jericho said, still examining her. If it hadn’t been for her phone vibrating in her hand, she’d have probably given him a mouthful, but her attention was on her phone screen.

Jericho paused, thought more deeply—he rubbed his chin when he did that—and went over to the sleeping tour guides, giving them the same kind of once-over. Neither stirred, not even when he lifted their arms and let them drop with a heavy thud.

“Very much in the land of nod,” he remarked, returning to the counter, “but only asleep, I think. No, they’re not ours.” He collected a mug of tea from Mrs. Pemburton, took a large gulp and swallowed. “Superb, as always, Mrs. P. Your husband is a most fortunate individual.”

“The driver,” she said, covering a blush. “He’s a bit the worse for wear. He’s settled down a bit now, but he was having terrible shakes before, asked about some other fellows who were with him.”

“Ah. That’s whom we came across earlier. Although, I must confess, I’m not sure how they came to be in the back of that van.”

“That one?” Mrs. Pemburton peered out of the window at the van teetering on the edge of the disintegrating car park.

“Yes, or, at least, not that one, precisely.”

Jack finished his cake, but before he set the fork down, Mrs. Pemburton whipped the plate away and refilled it with a copious slice of Victoria sandwich.

“Try this. It’s my own special recipe.” She handed the plate back.

Jack grinned his appreciation. He hadn’t had Victoria sandwich since Hannah made it in cookery at school, and what a big fuss was made of that. He pushed the memory out of his mind and tucked in.

***

Kelsey was disgusted by Jack’s face stuffing, but she went over anyway and sat opposite him. He still had something about him that she found attractive, although what it was she couldn’t fathom. He was physically and socially awkward, with stringy legs and scruffy hair, and what was with that beard? He still had no fashion sense.

At school, he’d shown no interest in her, other than occasionally muttering ‘all right’ if he noticed her at all. It had been an excruciating and inexplicable crush that she’d anticipated would dwindle to a minor regret by adulthood, but it was hanging in there, nowhere near as intense as it had once been, but definitely still there.

Jack must’ve sensed her staring at him, and for a while, he tried to ignore it, but his face was turning redder and redder.

“Good cake, this,” he said.

“So I’ve heard. You’ve got some in your beard.”

He looked to her for instruction on where, and she pointed to a spot just below the right corner of his mouth. He scrubbed at it with the back of his hand, and she nodded to confirm it had gone.

“Why the full-on facial hair, anyway?” she asked.

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s all right, I s’pose.” She picked up a crumb that had tumbled off his slice of cake and put it in her mouth. Jack possessively pulled the plate away, then, looking slightly ashamed, offered it to her.

“It’s fine,” she said, now repulsed by the idea. She was still holding the crumb on her tongue, but as the tiny morsel dissolved and dispersed around her mouth, she began to feel…well, intense happiness was the only way she could describe it. Food was the enemy, always had been; on the other hand, this cake was just what she needed.

“Perhaps a small piece.” Mrs. Pemburton winked as she passed a plate to Jericho, who placed it gently before Kelsey. “What harm can one small piece of my special Victoria sandwich do?”

Kelsey accepted and nibbled off a tiny corner of the cake, then a little more. Within minutes, she’d wolfed down the whole lot and was beaming from ear to ear.

“See?” Jack said through a mouthful of tea and the last of his own cake. “Told you it was good.”

And suddenly, Kelsey was laughing, and he was, too.

After that, matters turned to the mundane job of organising transportation. Brian was still in poor shape and certainly not up to the task of driving his van. The professor moved it across to the overflow car park, and they all piled into a four-by-four, with Jack in the passenger seat, acting all important like he was the professor’s right-hand man. Maybe that’s what he was. Kelsey had no idea what he’d been up to since high school, but she intended to find out.

***

As the four-by-four disappeared around a bend, there was a deep grunting, creaking sound, followed by a series of crunches and bangs. The tiny veins of cracks in the edge of the tarmac flexed and raced across the surface to meet each other, isolating the tiny island of car park where the van had been just moments before. The layer of reinforced concrete below offered brief and futile resistance before gravity strutted its stuff. Nature had run a self-diagnostic and discovered that all was not as it should be.

***

A month ago, I was just like the van driver. Jack listened to the man in the seat behind him trying to keep it together and hold a normal conversation with Kelsey. Jack vividly recalled the confusion and disorientation, but Jericho’s care and hospitality—breakfasts of fresh, homemade bread with plenty of honey, a comfortable bed and lots of rest—had put a bit of meat on his bones, and he felt healthier than ever. What’s more, he thought he was starting to understand the whole passage-of-time thing.

According to Jericho, the people in the back seat were Kelsey and the van driver from Jack’s reality, which seemed to run slower than this one, hence the extreme exhaustion he had experienced initially and the van driver was experiencing now. Admittedly, that didn’t explain why Kelsey was so spritely, which appeared to be perplexing Jericho, also. Right now, she was babbling away, something about a talking chicken and a missing-presumed-dead shop assistant. At the mention of the latter, Jack briskly tuned out. He had no desire to hear or know what people thought had happened to him. Did they wonder where the body went? Have they even noticed I’m gone? No! he reprimanded himself. None of that matters right here and now.

So…this was what they meant by life in the fast lane. Joking aside, the time he’d spent here had, if not flown by, then certainly passed at a decent rate. True, he had no recollection of his first two weeks, aside from his rapid departure from the hospital, and since then, he’d done little but wander the orchard and grounds of Jericho’s country home, which in many ways was a blessing.

Had he been in his own version, he’d have been standing behind a deep fat fryer, watching the rain variously trickle, hammer and come down in sheets against the greasy, lime-scaled window of the fish and chip shop and that—along with a good sci-fi novel or crossword—would be the sum total activity his brain got for the day. He still had the newspaper with the half-filled crossword. It had been in his hand when the boulder hit. Where he was now, he was getting the full benefits of fresh country air and learning how to tell when fruit was ripe for the picking into the bargain. He had everything he required and seemingly needed to give nothing in return. He might even manage to finish that crossword.

As they drew up behind the transit van—the one at the side of the road—Jericho turned to the van driver and waited for a pause in Kelsey’s constant chatter. “We need to take your van back with us. Do you think you can drive, Brian?”

It took quite a while for the request to register, and when it did, Brian looked for all the world like he was going to bolt. Who wouldn’t in his situation? His van, that he didn’t dare move because he’d parked it in the worst possible place on the cliff edge, was now on a country road a good two miles from the caves. No explanation was offered, because ultimately, it would sound about as believable as the notion that fairies live at the bottom of the garden and congregate on toadstools at dusk when they’re sure no-one’s going to catch them in the act.

Instead, Brian did what all British working-class men do; he pulled himself together, patted his chest and sides until he located his keys—the duplicate set were in Jericho’s coat pocket—and opened the door to get out.

“S’pose I’d best follow you, then,” he said grimly.

“That would be wise,” Jericho agreed.

Brian nodded and climbed out, closing the door behind him.

“I would prefer if you went with him, Jack.”

As usual, refusal wasn’t an option, so Jack did as Jericho suggested and went to join Brian in the transit van.

***

Kelsey climbed through the gap in the front seats and sat next to Jericho. “So, what’s the deal here?” she asked, eyes shining with journalistic curiosity. “Are we being held hostage?”

“Good gracious, no!” Jericho responded quickly, hoping to reassure her, but perhaps he had been too hasty.

“Which means we can go home at any time?”

“Hypothetically, yes.”

“All right, then.” Kelsey put on her seat belt and settled back into the large seat, which dwarfed her small frame, evidently satisfied that she was here of her own volition.

Jericho indicated and drove around Brian’s van, waiting whilst he pulled out of the lay-by before they moved off slowly. Every so often, Jericho caught a glimpse of Brian’s frown of concentration in the rear-view mirror.

***

Fortunately, Brian was so entirely focused on following Jericho, he was paying no attention to Jack. Had he noticed what happened next, he’d have, at the very least, careered into the ditch at the side of the road and quite possibly taken out a scarecrow and the dozen or so crows who weren’t taking its vocation very seriously.

As it was, Jack’s learning curve had been sufficiently steep for him to realise precisely what he’d done and reverse the process almost immediately, because, for a second, he was back in the four-by-four with Kelsey and Jericho. He knew it was only one second because quartz watches were precision devices, and his had never let him down yet, even if it had taken to flaunting the laws of physics.

On this occasion, it once again saw fit to stretch the second in question to well beyond its specified parameters, giving him more than enough time to appreciate that he, Jack Davies, was master of the universe.

Well, all right, maybe that was overstating things a bit, but certainly, he was controlling the moment, and it really wouldn’t do for Brian to suddenly find himself all alone in his cab. With that thought in place, Jack was back in the passenger seat of the transit van, and by the strained expression on his driver’s face, all was as close to normal as it was possible to be in the reflection of reality as they knew it.

They arrived at the house and parked up outside. Jericho shot Jack a warning glance out of view of his newest guests. “Give me a hand with the crew, please.”

Jack followed Jericho to the back of the van and waited for him to heave the door open, revealing the three squinting men, incredibly, with their gear ready in their hands and blissfully unaware of their entire misadventure.

“Which way to the talking chicken?” the sound engineer asked groggily.

“Ah. Yes, about that,” Jericho said. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”