Authors: Matthew Reeve
‘It's ok,’ said
Tony, returning to his whisper. ‘It’s just a dream, we’re leaving.’ She took a
sharp intake of breath and turned to look at Bartley. This seemed to shake more
of the sleep from her and she retuned her gaze to Tony.
‘Who are you?’
she whispered.
Tony didn’t
know whether to laugh or cry. The reality of what he was doing hit hard. This
was three years previous, around the time they had first met. And now,
confirmation with these words made it clear that they hadn’t even met yet.
Acceptance that he would walk away was strong. Bringing her home would truly be
what Bartley referred to as contamination. The girl Tony had known hadn’t
existed yet; the three years of life they had shared together had never
happened. He would forever be in love with a future memory she had yet to
become. He sat up, away from her.
‘Just a dream,’
he said and smiled. ‘Ok, ready,’ Tony looked to Bartley, the man he had
betrayed, no longer caring what Emma’s last words to him had been. No longer
caring whether his visions intensified once home. Although hearing how Emma’s
involvement was larger than he could possibly imagine was something he needed
to hear. ‘Let’s go.’
But Bartley was
no longer looking at Tony. His gaze had fallen upon the bed. His mouth was open
a fraction and his eyes appeared twice the size as they naturally should. It
was as if all his worse fears had come to fruition at once. Tony could have
sworn he was shaking in fear. He could hear Bartley’s increased breathing. Tony
followed the gaze and all fell into place. At some point, whilst assuring a
waking Emma that all was well and only a dream, she had reached out to him. Not
metaphorically.
He looked down
to where Bartley was staring and saw what he saw. Her hand was clasped around
his wrist. Flesh on flesh. A matter Tony in contact with...who knew what this
Emma was? In theory she was the real Emma. Popped back to this strand. But even
if she were, Bartley was right: on the quantum plain she was dead. And suddenly
Tony understood Bartley’s fear.
Tony and Emma
made eye contact. And then there was a white light, this time electric in
velocity. All sounds - the rain, the breathing, even a lone bird nestled
somewhere for cover outside against the now raging storm - all these sounds
amplified. There was a scream. He couldn’t tell if it was him, Emma, or Bartley
who had made it. It could even have been the shadows of Terry, Pam or Bobby,
screaming in a sleep from which they would never wake. Tony’s wrist began to
burn and he could no longer move. The need to withdraw manifested itself in
pain. The sensation of silent sonic booms emitting from outside exploded like
fireworks, the strand collapsing in ways far from peaceful. There was no gentle
fade. The moonlight vanished in an instant, a murderous red glow blinded him;
only the house, only this room existed upon the strand. The precipitous
parallel world, contaminated, weakened, literally shook. The second cry was
definitely Bartley. Still Tony could not move, his eyes locked on Emma. The
final fade to white was intense but more drawn out than ever before. Heat
welled, it was no longer just his wrist which burned. The sonic boom
crescendoed and the implosion was great.
The last thing
to fade to white was the blue ocean of the beautiful eyes staring back at him.