Read The Sands of Borrowed Time Online
Authors: Jeffry Winters
Them again. They call them the Others, but who are they? Someone, somewhere, must know? Children of the damned perhaps; ghosts of those poor souls extinguished by the blast?
Kyla pondered as she looked at the figures walking slowly across the snow covered fields. Their dry, sunburnt skin reminded her of people who had enjoyed life too much in their younger days. Those who had been fortunate enough to slouch in the Sun all day long, smoking cigarettes, sipping bourbon, without a care in the world as their bodies aged quicker and quicker with each beat of the Sun, and with every foolish drag and sip, their fortunes quickly running out. She watched their ragged figures slipping through the swirling, icy mist as they mysteriously walked north, not saying a word to each other.
Hayley and Demelza were still sleeping, snug in their blankets in front of the hearth when Kyla left the cottage early that morning. Glowing embers were all that was left from the night’s fire, their fading, orange light twinkling in the dawn shadows. Kyla was restless, though, and had decided to take a wander through the forest and maybe collect some more wood to rekindle the dying tinder. She remembered the time before the exploding star, when she was little, being led through forests on long walks with her mum, the damp smell of moss and grass filling the air and stirring the senses into a feeling of wonderment. Her long flowing dress would drag across the grass, soaking up the dew until it stuck to her smooth legs. They would pick wild flowers, small ones of all colours, their petals radiating out proud, filling the forest with perfumed scents. They would take them home and put them in water-filled vases to decorate and brighten up their home. Her father would smile at her, telling her she was as pretty as they were. There were berries they would gather from prickly bushes that would sharpen your taste buds as their bitterness made your mouth water. The birds would chirp their merry songs high above in the branches as if they had no care in the world, looking down at them with curiosity. Kyla cherished these walks with her Mum. She remembered the happiness it gave them both as they explored the woodlands, her Mum always with a smile on her face. It was a smile of contentment. It felt more real then, but now everything seemed like a shadow of the past, as if they were all ghosts stuck somewhere in time. She wondered where the figures were going, and where they had come from.
The guy at the front reminds me of Uncle Pete,
she mused,
always with a Woodbine in his mouth. His yellow skin would crease with every drag until each line became permanently sculptured into his face, deeper and deeper with every cigarette until he looked like the walking dead. But who are they; never seen until an exploding star threw everyone and everything into chaos? Then, there they are, appearing from nowhere as if by magic, like mythical beings, walking where no man would dare to walk, straight into the storms.
She looked skyward, feeling a sudden rising draught as the air became more alive, whistling as it did so. The dust clouds were high above the fields today - brooding, menacing - lurking there as if waiting for someone, an adversary from the past perhaps to even an old score with. Nevertheless, the figures walked boldly onwards, almost zombie like if it wasn't for their scintillating blue eyes.
Something is so wrong,
she thought,
the eyes so lively and young, the bodies so old and lifeless. It's as if their eyes are watching from somewhere else, their bodies long dead.
They could not see her, at least, she thought, and she certainly didn't want to be seen as she hid nervously behind an old, withered oak tree. She clung nervously to its knotted bark with her fingernails, looking on with trepidation, strangely captivated as their blue eyes burned bright, even against the light of the rising Sun.
Eyes that shine, yet somehow reveal a dark emptiness behind them?
she thought
.
Suddenly a bright flash sparked around her, leaving her with tunnel vision as she instinctively looked up to the sky with the reflex of a startled fox. She was greeted rudely with a loud crack of thunder that echoed unapologetically across the hills. The air stirred, then swirled angrily as if in protest that it had been disturbed before settling down again in a huff.
Christ! What's happening?
Kyla thought, feeling her mind was melting as she looked back across the fields. She felt a build-up of charge in the air as if there was a surge of static electricity forming below the bruised clouds. Her thoughts were swimming in a turbulent current of panic as she tried to comprehend, even believe what her eyes were seeing.
Huh, where did they go? Maybe I’m a ghost in someone else’s dream; their less than pretty faces are gone, their blue eyes have gone, their bodies have gone? All have vanished! For Christ sake, what’s happening? Where in hell have they gone?
She watched bemused, her heart racing, her mind racing faster, her eyes intently focused on the strange transformation before her. The figures were gone. The remnants of whatever humanity they had possessed, along with their withered bodies had disappeared. Strangely enough, though, the footprints continued, even though the figures could not be seen. It was as if they were still walking onwards across the snow covered fields, yet somehow invisible. She watched in fearful awe as each footprint mysteriously appeared, etching deep into the snow as if by themselves through some kind of twisted magic.
“I think I should go home; sit down, relax, and have a nice hot cup of tea with something medicinal in it,” Kyla whispered to herself. “Just forget this ever happened and not mention it to anyone. I don’t want to come here ever again, or see them again if only I could!”
Just as she was trying to calm down and take stock of the situation, as if the figures were mocking her thoughts, there was a strange flicker before her. It was like an old television set being switched on and the lead figure was back again, his scintillating blue eyes glaring through the cool morning air. However, the rest of them were still absent, even though their footprints continued behind him. More wavy flickers seized her attention, illuminating the fields in a kaleidoscope of colours. Then, strangely, all the figures were back once more, walking across the snow as if nothing had happened. Kyla gasped, feeling her throat dry from fear, cracking with confusion as she tried to take in a well-needed lungful of air.
Something strange is going on here! These aren't men, nor ghosts either. The lightning did something, pierced through some kind of veil, revealing the truth, but now the lie is back.
Kyla watched confused as the trail of footprints continued beneath the apparently solid and real figures.
How do they do that!
She watched as they rambled on until they were out of sight through the trees. She eagerly ran across to the field where they had walked across and looked down into the white blanket of snow. There was nothing; no sign of the footprints, not one she could find as she twisted and turned, looking eagerly down and around at the snow. There was only pure, untrodden snow; deep, crisp and very real, and she stood there in a daze, for quite some time, her mind muddled with bewilderment.
Eventually, she hurried back to the cottage, not feeling the cold, too engrossed in what she had witnessed. Had they seen her? Did they know she was there, watching their little secret being exposed? What will they do if they knew what she had seen?
They are tricking us like they’ve always done, as they’ll always will, shitting the crap out of us with lies and deceptions.
Her hurry transformed into a run as the excitement welled up inside of her.
I need to tell Hayley and Demelza; maybe just Hayley, Demelza would freak out! No. I can’t. I just can’t. They wouldn’t believe me. I’m not so sure myself!
She was exhausted by the time the cottage came into view, and so she slowed, breathless, her lungs feeling the bite of the cold air as it flowed deep inside them.
I wonder where they hide, spinning their twisted tricks; up in the hills, or perhaps deep underground? Shit, the cottage, maybe it’s their hideaway! It would explain a few things!
Inside the cottage, it was already warm. The fire had been seen to and was blazing in the front room, and Hayley and Demelza were asleep. It was already getting dark.
Why so late, so soon? I’ve only been out an hour or so?
She looked up at the clock. It was 6.30 in the evening. She felt another wave of confusion stream through her mind as her body went numb.
I left this morning at 6.30, 12 hours ago! Can't be right! It should still be before lunch time, with the Sun still rising in the sky!
She walked across to the fire, kneeling down before it. The heat from the flames was comforting after her shock and what had been accidentally revealed to her. She contemplated her mysteriously short day, and the strangeness of it all as she put a pail of water on the fire and sat down, listening to the pot fizzle as it got hotter.
So why the illusion? What purpose does it serve?
Kyla could hear the water begin to boil, and she poured herself a mugful, adding a teabag. She stirred it broodily, still dwelling on the day’s events.
Projections
!
Holograms perhaps?
she pondered, looking deep into her murky cup of tea.
That's what they are; holographic projections! How sinister. They certainly had me fooled; everyone is fooled, but why, and for what ends?
As she drank the tea, its warmth immediately radiated throughout her body, causing her to take a deep breath, making her feel almost normal again. Hayley stirred, her eyes slowly opening.
"
Lazy sods," Kyla remarked, causing Hayley to look across at her. She yawned, looking annoyed that she had been woken up.
“Leave it out, Kyla,” Hayley replied sleepily. “We’ve been good girls, out and about, collecting wood for the fire, berries and mushrooms for tea.” She snuggled deeper into her blanket and closed her eyes again. “We thought you were down in the caverns, exploring again. You've been gone all day. We were getting a bit worried, you know. We were going to give you till tomorrow to come back before we became properly concerned,” Hayley added as she trailed off into sleep again.
“You know, it's interesting what a girl can see outside; there, deep in those woods,” Kyla said, not caring if Hayley heard or not. She stared into the orange flames as they danced hypnotically on the hearth.
Those bright blue eyes, staring out before them, but who sees through those eyes?
“
They see through those eyes from far, far away?” a gentle voice appeared to say, but it was not Hayley or Demelza speaking. She looked across at them lying on the couches. Demelza was snoring contently, and Hayley was deep inside her blanket, both without a care in the World.
Mum?
“
Remember
,
a girl
can
learn a lot about the World walking through the forest in the cool, fresh air, just as the birds do as they look to see who is passing below,” the voice continued. Kyla’s heart slowed as she looked deep into the flames, their orange dance comforting, mesmerising, complementing the gentle tone of the woman's voice. “Sometimes things are not what they seem,” the voice continued as Hayley began to snore beneath her blanket.
“
The keepers at the gate are merely shadows as you have seen today, and those that see through their eyes, see with fear, knowing their power is frail
.”
Kyla listened, the soft sound of the woman’s voice intoxicating, feeling the soft glow of the flames swirl through her mind until she too began to fall into a deep slumber. In the room before her, the light of the fire danced with the shadows it created, pulsating its warmth throughout the room like a giddy heart beating. The last thing she heard as she drifted off to sleep was the warm voice trailing off into silence, “The door is open, just walk out into the wilderness and you will know the truth…”
Daniel looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror as he sat on the hot vinyl seat. His eyes looked dark against his burnt, flaking skin. The air was stifling as he panted for air. He felt sick. The car, an old station wagon had been left by the roadside abandoned. Not so much abandoned, he thought, as the driver was still clinging to the steering wheel when he found it. Nevertheless, he was dead, and in a way the car had been abandoned, he deliberated, if not on purpose. The owner was overweight, and it took him a good twenty, sweaty minutes of pulling and shoving to get him out through the door. Daniel stared at him lying in the road, his shirt hanging out of his trousers, his large tummy pointing up proudly between his chest and legs. There's no dignity in death, he thought, or in life for that matter, anymore, as he gagged yet again from the putrid smell emanating from his decaying flesh.
I wonder why he died, he wondered as he looked at the large bottle of water on the passenger’s seat and the half eaten pasty on the dashboard.
Maybe he choked? Bummer if he did, given the circumstances. I mean, imagine surviving a supernova blast, suffering and struggling for 15 years in the pitiful aftermath, only to die choking on a pie,
he chuckled to himself.
If
so
,
Death has a weird sense of humour. Perhaps the heat is getting to him, or he's running out of options. Maybe there's a checklist, some deathly quota he has to meet.
Supernova, check – 7 billion deaths – ok!
Starvation, check – 1 million deaths – ok!
Dehydration, check – another 1 million deaths – ok!
Choking on a pie, check – 1. Oh dear, maybe I need Daniel as well to get the figures up.
Stop thinking like this!
Daniel thought, slapping his thigh.
People will think your strange.
He looked in the mirror again and sighed.
It’s starting to show through on your face. That's if I get to meet anybody again, of course, to see it and tell me.
He continued to stare at himself in the mirror. His face looked emaciated, the shape of his skull noticeable behind his thin, ageing skin.
The girls won’t be chasing you for a while unless they’re desperate, and desperate they are!
He looked across at the bottle of water and picked it up. It was warm from sitting in the Sun. He reluctantly took several gulps, finding it repulsive, thinking that the poor, fat bastard on the road had had his sweaty lips on the rim.
Beggars can't be choosers,
he conceded reluctantly.
He reached for the ignition, glad that the keys were hanging there and turned them, biting his lip hopefully. It started first time without a hitch.
Wow, now there's a turn up for the books!
he thought.
Maybe Death has business elsewhere today!
He looked around with paranoia, driving off quickly, the engine responding nicely as he depressed the accelerator with his tired, trembling leg.
“Goodbye, fat bastard!” he shouted without care, waving at him, not looking, scared he might wave back in protest at the loss of his pie. He headed north up the highway.
It had been a difficult couple of weeks since he parted from the girls. It was the wrong decision not to go with them he reluctantly confessed, unable to get the SUV fixed. He wished them well but was not too confident of their plans.
A land ship; no way!
he had thought. In the meantime, he was forced to travel on foot, just to survive. He had dug up dirt with his bare hands, from deep below the prairie surface where the Sun had not reached, and squeezed from it what little water it had. There were some mushrooms and berries, but they were withered, and he was losing weight quickly. He could barely summon the strength to keep going anymore. He looked ravenously at the pasty on the dashboard, grabbed it, and quickly dug his teeth into it. It tasted so good, he thought; baked dry, but good, nevertheless. In a matter of seconds, it was gone, Daniel feeling a painful lump of indigestion in his chest. It didn't dissuade him as he looked around for more food, but there was none.
“Fat, greedy bastard!” he shouted, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel in frustration.
Who ate all the pies? Well, the fat, greedy bastard, of course, lying in the road! Him, and him only!
He looked along the road before him, all the way to the horizon. There was nothing, except for dead bushes and sand. He continued his monotonous journey, onwards up the road and northbound, his bones and muscles aching, his hunger foreboding. Soon the dust clouds descended upon him quickly, turning day into night. There were flashes of lightning and cracks of thunder as the clouds swirled in ever thicker.
How can someone get so fat in a post-apocalyptic world? There's nothing to eat! Even when you find something, it's stale and useless! Very peculiar indeed!
He sighed as he tried to figure it out.
Wait a minute, hells bells! Who is that, over there?
He braked hard as he saw a lone figure walking up the highway before him. He cruised up slowly with care beside the hiker, aware that they could be dangerous, and wound the window down. It was a woman, oblivious to his presence.
“Excuse me!” Daniel shouted. The woman looked across at him startled, holding her hood stretched outwards to protect her eyes from the swirling grit. Strands of blonde hair billowed out from underneath the hood as she tried to tuck them neatly back in. Her coat looked too big for her as it hung on her emaciated figure, Daniel thought. She looked scared as she tried to walk quickly onwards, hiding her face from him.
“Don’t worry, I’m harmless, get in!” Daniel shouted through the howling wind. She stopped, still holding the hood over her face. Daniel reached across and opened the door for her. The woman paused for a brief moment as if deliberating what to do, then got in. She struggled to shut the door behind her as the wind caught it, Daniel leaning over again, helping her pull it shut. The boisterous storm became muffled as the electric window wound itself back up, only the grit lashing against the window of any bother.
“Thank you, my dear,” the woman said, her voice unsteady, “it's a blinder, literally.” She pulled down her hood and ruffled her hair.
“No problem,” Daniel replied, looking out at the storm with a frown as if agreeing with the lady.
“Your accent, it's from the East, yes?” the old woman asked.
Daniel nodded, “With a hint of this and that.” The woman paused again, looking down worriedly at her blistered hands.
“Oh, sorry,” she suddenly said, “my name is Patricia, but please don't call me Pat. I’ve been fighting that one all my life. Patricia, please.”
“It's good to meet you, Patricia. I’m Daniel. “
“Lovely name, it fits your face. Your parents must have thought long and hard for that, and they chose well.
“Oh, thank you,” Daniel replied, feeling pleased and more relaxed with her kind comments.
“So what brings you out on this lonely road, my dear?” Patricia asked.
“Good question. The honest answer; this is where I’ve ended up. To cut a long and tortuous story brutally short; my car died, I got lost, wandered the desert for a few weeks, found a dead, fat guy in his car, and here I am, in it.”
Patricia giggled between fits of coughs, “Nicely put.”
“And you?” Daniel asked.
“Oh, I was born a gypsy, and I walk the roads post-apocalypse or not.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Is it so hard to believe?”
Daniel shrugged.
“You see a lot of things on the road, learn a lot about life,” Patricia continued. “And I get to meet nice people like you.” Daniel looked across at Patricia, feigning a little smile.
And some horrible people? You tried to walk away, then paused before getting in,
Daniel thought.
Patricia could see the questions on Daniel's face.
“Never become an actor, my dear. You're more like a book, every page easy to read.” Daniel wasn’t sure how to take that as the old woman continued, “Of course the road has its problems, so you have to know when to travel and when not to.”
“But how can you know that; when to travel?” Daniel asked.
Patricia smiled, a deep dimple appearing on her cheek, “Well it's just like life, you soon learn the easy from the hard.”
“Sorry?” Daniel asked confused as a swirl of sand lashed across the windscreen. He switched on the wipers, watching them strain and judder across the dusty glass. Patricia waited until the wipers had cleaned a good view through the glass so that Daniel could give her his full attention again.
“Easy is given; the rest you have to work for. It's like travelling through life.”
“Ok, I will dwell on that one,” Daniel said.
“Good! You're meant to.” Patricia smiled.
“Let's leave this philosophical nonsense for now and get to the practicalities,” Patricia said with a smile. Daniel smiled back.
“Water, then food, and when you're satisfied and your belly is full, you can think up any bullshit you like!” Patricia continued, ending with a wheezy cough as she gasped for air. She waved her hand at Daniel as if to say don’t worry. “It's a drag getting old so quickly,” she finally said between gasps. “Time is something we don’t have anymore.”
“Food would be good. There's a bottle of water under your seat,” Daniel replied. “Help yourself.”
“Keep it for now,” Patricia said, “just in case we really need it later.”
“And food? We must eat, and soon,” Daniel complained. “Before we surely run out of time.”
“Keep moving. I’m sure something will turn up,” Patricia replied. David looked across at her with suspicion at her confident comment. He drove on, the lightning flickering across his eyes beginning to tire them.
“So, what's the story, Patricia? Why are you travelling alone?”
“Oh, you know, searching, just like everyone else,” she replied. “What for? Who knows? Maybe I will know it when I see it.” Daniel glanced across at her, saying nothing, growing more suspicious of his passenger. Patricia could see it in his eyes, his mistrust of her was growing stronger with every moment.
“Do you meet many people on your travels, Daniel?” she asked.
“Not really,” he replied, looking whacked.
“Not really?”
“There were some girls a few weeks back, but apart from them, no one, apart from bandits, of course.”
“Some girls?” she asked, looking interested.
“Yes, tough little nuggets they were.” He frowned, too embarrassed to mention that they had captured him in a net, prepared to kill him for the sake of his van.
“Did they have nice names?” she asked, the curiosity on her face deepening.
“Oh, I don't know, what were they?” Daniel replied, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he tried to recall them with frustration.
“Let them come, don't try and force them,” Patricia said, “just think of their faces and tell me what they looked like.”
“You know,” he began, as if he was eager to tell her, “there was a peculiar one.”
“Yes, go on,” she said impatiently, putting her hand around his wrist. She closed her eyes as he began.
“She was so young and strong, but her face.”
“Yes…?
“Her face; she looked so troubled as if there was too much going on in her head, her mind unable to cope, her emotions trying to burst through all at once.”
She tightened her grip around his wrist, “What do you mean, Daniel?”
“There was just so much energy there, rippling through her skin as if her mind was frying; ticks, quivers, I don't know. She was very strange but in a nice way. Maybe she was schizophrenic or something?”
“Was she pretty?”
Daniel blushed, shrugging his shoulders, “Oh, now, I don’t know. She looked a bit rough, with tangled, blonde hair, and deep green eyes.” Daniel slowed a little as the wind buffeted the car from the side, causing it to swerve across the road. He counter steered as he looked apologetically across to Patricia. “Wait! No! One was blue, and one was green. That's it! I remember now because I had never seen eyes like that before. They were mesmerising. Two eyes of different colour, must be rare, yes?” He heard Patricia's breathing deepen. “Yes, that’s it, that’s it! Kyla! Her name was Kyla!” he slammed his hands down on the steering wheel in triumph. Patricia suddenly let go of her grip on Daniel’s arm. “Kyla, with sapphire and emerald eyes!” he continued.
Kyla, you’re alive! I knew it. I see you in my dreams when you speak to me!
She felt a gentle nudge from Daniel.
“You ok?” he asked, looking concerned.
“Of course, sorry, it's your voice, so gentle and kind. I must have drifted off to sleep. Daniel smiled.
“It's been a tiring day, for us both,” he said.
“What were these little nuggets up to?” she asked.