The Aurora (Aurora Saga, Book 1) (4 page)

James hurriedly drove his Land Rover back home to his family’s small remote cottage near Brampton, where his mother lay sick. He had been in the local village for provisions, but his thoughts were never far away from her.

Carol Brandon was only sixty-two and had recently become overwhelmed by a serious illness that the doctors and specialists could not comprehend. Carol was a stubborn and reclusive person. She had ignored the medical advice to stay in hospital and even James’ protests could not stop her from discharging herself to return home. For days James tried desperately to get her to seek medical help, but to no avail. She told James that one day he would understand why.

His mother’s illness reminded James of the sad moment when he lost his father twelve years earlier, when he was only a child. Carol had told him that Lex had died of an incurable illness, and now James’ worst fear was that she was going to die too.

James turned off the narrow country lane, between the two tall stone columns capped with carved pyramids, which marked the entrance to his home. Everything seemed tranquil as he drove steadily up the long gravel driveway. The wind was calm and he could hear the water gushing in the nearby stream. The small cream cottage set between two smaller outbuildings looked softly bathed by the last rays of light of the sun setting over the Cumbrian Mountains. The bare oak tree in the centre of the courtyard ringed by fallen leaves, casted a shadow across the roof of the cottage and the hillside beyond. There was a solitary dim light shining from an upstairs window of the cottage.

As James pulled up just in front of the cottage, his attention was drawn to the far corner of one of the courtyard buildings. There, in the shade, the front of another car was just visible. He got out of the Land Rover and walked closer. It was a black convertible Ford Mustang.

James’ heart missed a beat at the thought of his mother possibly being alone with a stranger. He was now anxious and feeling guilty to have been away, even if for only thirty minutes. He wasted no more time and rushed into the cottage.

He could hear the voice of an old woman talking to his mother in her bedroom upstairs. His mother’s voice was very faint. After a few steps up the steep narrow wooden staircase to her room, the voices stopped abruptly. Suddenly the bedroom door opened and a tall figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

The woman had her back to him. All James could make out was her long silver hair, which moved gently in the draught from the door when she closed it.

‘Who are you?’ James asked, standing on the staircase.

The woman froze for a second, and then quickly covered the left-hand side of her face with a handkerchief to hide a tattoo, before turning towards him.

‘I said, who are you?’ His voice was raised.

‘James,’ she said in a concerned voice.

She stared at him, her eyes fixed on his.

James could now see her wrinkled face and light-green eyes. She looked old and appeared anxious. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

‘What are you doing here?’ he questioned.

‘I had to come.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I’m Lon… No, I can’t. Your mother needs you, James. I have to go… You should not have seen me,’ the old woman said in an American accent.

She quickly moved down the stairs and pushed by him; her right hand brushed his. James unexpectedly felt cold. He lifted his hand and looked at it, clenching it slowly. It was an eerie feeling, like someone had just walked over his grave.

By the time he looked back to her the door of the cottage had clicked shut. The old woman had gone. James was surprised how agile she was for her age.

Who was that?
James thought to himself and hurried up the rest of the stairs.
If she’s a friend of my mother’s, how come I’ve never seen her before?
His heart quickened when he opened the bedroom door.

Carol was in bed, propped upright by a number of pillows, exactly as he had left her. A table lamp was the only source of light on a chest of drawers next to the bed.

James moved over to the bed where he noticed a framed picture of Lex on the carpet just below his mother’s open hand. He picked it up and put it back gently on the bedside cabinet beside a face mask.

Carol’s eyes half opened. Her head turned towards him.

‘Sit—’

‘Are you all right? I was worried. I saw that woman. I was—’

‘James! Please sit, I don’t have… I don’t have much time. I have something I need, I mean, you must know,’ she said in a weakened and confused voice.

James uncomfortably perched himself on the side of the bed and took his mother’s hand.

‘I… She loves you, James,’ Carol whispered.

She dragged out a small metallic box from beneath the bed sheets.

‘Now’s the time…You don’t belong here. You must return home. Much danger!’ and she handed him the box.

‘I don’t understand. What do you mean?’

She gripped James’ hand tightly and took a deep breath. She was trying to pull together her remaining strength but was finding difficult to put a sentence together. Her brain was blanking more and more; her mind was fading in and out.

‘You…You can stop it. Change all this! James you must not start it again. Kalrea must read the diary.’

He was evidently confused by his mother’s words, but he was sure she was trying to say something important.

‘What are you trying to tell me? Who’s Kalrea? What diary?’

‘You will understand,’ Carol said, gripping his hand even more tightly and tried to raise her head from the pillow towards him. She looked very frightened. ‘James, Kalrea must read the diary....’ Carol mumbled and then stopped, her eyes closing. Her head dropped gently back onto the pillow before she exhaled for the last time.

‘Mum! Wait! Don’t die!’ James said. Tears formed in his eyes. ‘Don’t go… Don’t leave me?’ he said sadly. ‘Please! Don’t leave me.’ A tear dropped from his face onto his mother’s limp hand.

Realizing that his mother was gone, he felt a painful emptiness inside. His life seemed now to have lost its meaning. He was all alone with no one else close to comfort him.

While James was placing her hand gently onto the bed, he heard the Mustang’s engine starting and the sound of gravel beneath its wheels.

The old woman.

He rushed over to the window to see the car moving slowly out from the shade. The car stopped. The old woman looked up at him, and he caught a glimpse of her wiping a tear from her face.

Just when he was about to call out, the car sped away. James tried to catch sight of the number plate, but the dust thrown up by the wheels of the car made it impossible to see.

*****

The following three weeks seemed like an eternity to James. He had the long wait for the autopsy and the worst part for him, being all alone at the cremation. That same day, upon returning home, he set about the sad, solemn task of sprinkling Carol’s ashes over an area of ground where her husband Lex laid. It was at the rear of the cottage in an area Carol had prepared all those years ago when Lex died, on the side of a gentle hill overlooking the cottage with trees and bushes all around.

Sprinkling Carol’s ashes kept James occupied for a while, allowing him to suppress his feelings. Nothing could distract him from this task. It was not until he had finally placed some freshly cut flowers from the garden on top that he suddenly felt devoid of energy. He sat down on the hillside and stared across the valley where dark clouds were gathering.

He had sometimes hated Carol for living in isolation miles away from the nearest town. It was something he could never fully understand, because Carol had never seemed the kind of person who wanted to live alone. Carol always distanced herself from the few friends he had, making his life very difficult. But now that she was gone his resentments were mixed together with sadness for the loss of a much loved person. These feelings were tearing him apart. He was wrestling with his thoughts.

I would give anything to get her back. Anything,
he thought, staring at the cottage and rolling countryside below.
Why? Why? I don’t understand. Life’s not fair. Carol was fine five weeks ago. I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.
James shook his head slowly.
It’s my fault. I should have made her go to the hospital or made them come here. Why was she so stubborn?

James’ thoughts made his head spin. He was unable to think straight and the full intensity of this mother’s death overwhelmed him. Tears formed slowly in his eyes before gently meandering down his cheeks.

What do I do now?
James thought, while the tears flowed.
I don’t want to stay here all alone. But what about the cottage?
He took a deep breath and wiped his face.
I could sell it. Move! Yes, I could move. But what about Carol and Lex? I can’t leave them here alone.
He felt like he was trapped in this remote place, where all purpose of his life had been stolen away. All he had was his memories. His mind wandered back to one of the few reminiscences of his father.

*****

James was five. It was a clear late summer evening and there was a gentle breeze blowing through the valley. That day Lex had made him a bright scarlet coloured model aeroplane, which they spent the evening gliding down the hillside at the rear of the cottage. When it became too dark to see James sat down alongside him, half way up the hillside.

James pointed up into the night sky.

‘Look, dad, an aeroplane?’

‘That’s not an aeroplane.’

‘What is it, dad?’

‘It’s called a shooting star,’ Lex replied, watching the bright white line fading quickly away.

He coughed.

‘What’s a shooting star?’

Lex picked up a large stone that lay nearby.

‘A large rock, which may have been as big as you, has got very hot and burned up in the sky like a giant firework.’

‘Did someone throw it?’

Lex paused for a moment and gazed up at the sky.

‘No,’ he coughed. ‘It’s been travelling for a very long time.’

‘Where did it come from, Dad?’

‘Somewhere out there,’ he said, pointing to the sky. ‘See all those lights?’ Lex coughed once more. ‘One day you’ll look down from up there.’

‘Will I be able to fly?’

‘Yes, son,’ Lex replied and smiled.

‘Lex!’ Carol shouted from the cottage below. ‘It’s time for James to go to bed.’

‘Coming, dear,’ Lex replied.

‘Oh! Do we have to?’ James said.

Lex coughed more violently. He took two large deep breaths.

‘Are you all right, Dad?’ James asked.

‘Yes, I think so. Let’s go in! You heard your mother,’ Lex said.

‘I want to stay and watch the stars,’ James said, smiling at his father to try to convince him.

‘Come on! There’s always tomorrow…’

*****

Raindrops started to fall on James’ face, bringing him back to reality. He looked up at the angry clouds.
I’ll be soaked in minutes
, he thought, but nothing seemed to matter anymore, and he lay back on the hill.

*****

It took some time for James to finally come to terms with his mother’s death. He spent hours just sitting up on the hillside or in his favourite armchair in the living room, worrying and contemplating his life ahead.

Sitting once again in his usual soft armchair, he was admiring a small magnogenic canvas of a brightly coloured flower hanging above the fireplace.
Carol always liked that painting. It reminded her of where she grew up. The flower’s so unusual; it has so many colours. I wish I could paint like that.

James looked across to where Carol would have sat. His attention was drawn to the small box Carol had given him, sitting on the chest beneath the small bay window. He couldn’t even remember placing it there. Sunlight reflected mysteriously on its dark-grey surface which was acting like a prism, casting a rainbow onto the far wall. James reached across and held the box in both hands.

It was about half the size of a shoebox and cold to the touch. It was extremely light and James thought it was probably metallic. All the corners were rounded off and its grey surface had no blemishes or scratches on it. Looking for a way of opening it, James could hear things rattling around inside. He noticed there was a very faint line near the base, or was it the top? James turned it over and placed it on the table just in front of him. He went on trying to open it until the faint line slowly widened and the top came away with a soft click.

Inside there were five objects which James removed to have a look at.

The first appeared to be a watch. It was entirely jet black, had a mirror-like shine and felt warm when held. There were no buttons, and where the face would have been was an embossed symbol of the letter ‘A’ without the right leg, set inside an ellipse.

There were two thick cartridges which reminded him of a large computer flash drive. One was pearlescent green and had the words ‘BAL OUF LOVAXYISPID’ printed on it. The other was bright red and had ‘FTOEF RISEWTAQ ———’ written on it. The final word had been deliberately scratched away. One of the corners of the red data cartridge was missing and it looked like the casing had been melted.