Here's the next chunk.
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‘Can you hear me? Are you with us?’
He wasn’t sure. The voice mumbled something – he couldn’t make it out.
‘You’re safe with us here in Dawn Two.’
He had no idea what that meant. He wasn’t sure he felt safe, either. There were more voices now, but the sounds overlapped in a haze of vowels.
A face swayed over her blurred vision, rolling in and out of focus. White light washed out the details. She saw the lips move but couldn’t read them. Or perhaps she could, but her brain was working so slowly the meaning was lost before she recognised the shapes. The air vibrated with soundless words. Before she could take in much more than straw coloured hair, green eyes, and a white collar beneath the purple pullover, the face blurred, the light dimmed, and she was alone again.
The voice was speaking again. ‘Hello. I hope you can hear me. You’ve not been very well, but we’re looking after you.’
He trusted the voice. He hadn’t been feeling well, not at all. Not for ages. Why was that?
‘I hope the pain is better? We had lots to fix,’ and the voice went through the list of repairs – cheek, stomach, thigh, a new front tooth, a broken arm and rib, another two cracked – but he thought the voice was describing injuries to someone else, because the sort of unwell he felt didn’t match anything the voice had just mentioned. ‘Oh, and you probably feel like you’ve been taken apart and put back together.’
Yes! That was it, and his limbs agreed. His eyes relaxed, opening for the first time and his other reflexes took over, forcing his mouth wide for a deep, loud breath.
‘With us at last, Mr Sinclair?’ The voice was clear now, a woman’s, and close at hand.
With what seemed like a hug effort, Jon sat up and looked around. A young woman sat cross-legged on a chair beside his bed. Her black hair was fastened in a long pony tail, made longer still by the way she held her head to one side. Her hands were clasped around her raised knee and her dangling foot jiggled lazily. Bright hazel eyes appraised him from her slightly pointed face and her lips were a little proud. She wore a blue short-sleeve blouse trimmed in silver, black trousers, and black boots. She stood, unfolding elegantly from the chair, and walked towards him.
He turned, hanging his legs over the edge.
‘Oh, wait. Don’t stand too –!’ but he was already falling. She stepped quickly in and caught him as he toppled. ‘Easy there. Come on. Just sit for a few more minutes.’ She was stronger than she looked and helped him back up onto the bed.
She took a pace away and looked attentively at him. He stared right back, and the seconds dragged by. She did not choose to break the silence.
‘Who are you?’ he asked eventually, though he thought it should have been a lower priority question than, for instance, ‘Where am I?’, ‘Where’s my sister?’, and ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘I’m Stephanie Bisham,’ she said, extending a hand, which Jon took and shook. ‘Pleasure to make your acquaintance.’ He remembered how he had wanted to check how everything in the strange chamber felt, and was glad that Stephanie’s hand felt real. It felt right. ‘Shall we start by getting some of your questions out the way?’ she smiled warmly.
Jon looked back, feeling anxious, but unable to speak.
‘Your sister’s fine. She’s in the next room.’ He immediately tried to stand, and Stephanie caught him before he fell again. ‘Easy there, Jon. Your body’s not used to what you’ve just been through.’
‘And what is it that I’ve just been through?’ he asked before he had even decided he wanted to say anything. His mind was in overdrive. How does she know who I am? How does she know Rachel’s my sister?
‘You’ve been here a week, Jon –’
‘A week?!’ he exclaimed angrily, but Stephanie Bisham remained calm.
‘Yes, a week,’ she reiterated, ‘but there’s more you need to hear,’ and she gently pushed him back onto the bed. ‘You should probably sit down for this.’ He complied hesitantly. ‘What’s the last thing you remember?’
‘Someone was speaking to me,’ he said slowly. ‘Was that you?’
‘It was,’ Stephanie agreed. ‘How about before that?’
He thought back. ‘There was a weird room. We were lost. I thought we could radio for help or something.’
‘Well, we heard you, so to speak,’ Stephanie replied cryptically.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You did send a signal, but we had already pre-set the systems to bring you from… from where you were to us.’ Jon made to speak, but Stephanie pressed on quickly. ‘It’s usually best to just say it straight. You’ve had a week sedated, but you’re not in August any more. Or in 2004, for that matter. You’re not on an island on that lake anymore.’
‘So where the hell am I?’
‘You’re more than forty thousand years in the past. The question is when you are, and the where takes care of itself.’
In the total silence that followed, Jon stared at Stephanie Bisham with a mixture of disbelief and pity. She laughed, returning to her seat. ‘I always expect a different reaction, but I never get it!’ She pulled her blouse tight as she sat. ‘And once they’ve given me the “you’re fucking insane” look, it goes one of two ways. And I see you’re the type to sit and consider in silence, rather than laughing or shouting.’
A great flood was rushing through Jon’s mind; a tidal wave of thought and counter-thought, an argument conducted on fast forward, where only the crash against the reef might bring about a resolution, one way or another.
‘I’d want proof,’ he said at last.
‘And then you’d believe me?’
‘No, but I might be able to trust you.’
She gave her kindest smile yet. ‘Very wise.’ He looked embarrassed, but agreed. A synthetic bell chimed and Stephanie called out ‘Come in,’ and the door slid apart. Two people stood framed in the gap; one was a woman of similar age to Stephanie, with light brown, rather untidy hair, a slight face – small nose, thin lips, shallow cheeks and brows – indeed the only part that really stood out was her green eyes. The second person was Rachel.
‘Jon!’ she exclaimed. He tried to stand and she tried to run, but both attendants were alert. ‘Thanks,’ Rachel said, and the slight-faced woman smiled. Once shepherded to the middle of the clinically white room, the siblings hugged. Over his sister’s shoulder, Jon saw that the newcomer was dressed quite unlike Stephanie; knee-high black leather boots festooned with buckles and straps, a grey pinstriped skirt that didn’t reach her knees, and a baggy white jumper over a yellow polo shirt. He supposed the logo on her jumper was for a band, but he’d never heard of Ugly Bibble before.
Brother and sister parted and Stephanie introduced her colleague.
‘Well, Rachel’s already met her, but this is Amy Rayford.’ Amy smiled and held out her hand, which Jon took. Stephanie introduced herself to Rachel.
‘Glad you’re finally awake,’ Amy said, and Jon thought he recognised her voice, but couldn’t say from where.
‘So, Jon,’ Stephanie began, gesturing to the still open door. ‘You wanted to see some proof, right?’ Jon and Rachel glanced at each other and knew they had both received the same pitch.
‘Uh, yeah…’ he agreed slowly.
They talked as they walked, Stephanie and Amy stationed either side for support. Outside, a corridor curved around and stopped by a set of glass double doors. Jon stared about; the arrangement was the same, the door was the same. The lift cab that bobbed into view was the same. Had they really stood on this spot a week ago? Stephanie and Amy exchanged a knowing smile, but before Jon could speak, the doors dinged open and they stepped into the lift. The building had been buried a week ago, but now he could tell it stood on a hill, surrounded by rolling farmland, and the distant horizon was dominated by a conical mountain.
‘This is the same lift…?’ Rachel asked, sounding her confusion, gazing out at the sunlit day.
‘It is,’ Stephanie agreed.
‘I know you probably think it’s a trick,’ Amy said. ‘Everyone does.’
‘Everyone?’ Jon echoed, but neither Stephanie nor Amy responded to this.
‘Observation Deck,’ Amy called out. Jon and Rachel soon understood this to be a command to the lift, for the doors slid shut and the cab began to ascend. He stared out at the thick pine forests in the foothills and the little rivers twinkling in the sun, realising at last that he recognised Amy’s voice as that of the computer in the strange room at the top – allegedly – of this very lift.
The lift stopped short of the top, though. Even before the doors parted and Jon and Rachel walked across the wide, wooden deck to stare, they were transfixed by the sight of a city in the distance. The rivers they had seen behind the tower wound south through fields, then suburbs, becoming wide and spread out in a grand delta. Every island was packed with elegant towers, bridged one to another by large sluice gates. Apartments jostled along the shoreline, their glass glinting in the bright sun.
But the river did not flow out to sea. It simply vanished over the edge, and clouds rolled up to meet it. In fact, beyond the city, clouds was all they could see, except for plateaus that poked through the cotton wool in the distance, and their green tops glistened with other cities, too. The towers of vast suspension bridges pierced the clouds, linking the little islands of green.
‘The city of Terdanis,’ Amy said softly, joining Jon and Rachel by the edge. ‘And the prefecture of Mepisol.’ Rachel pinched herself discretely. The view did not alter. Jon gripped the rail tightly. It felt very solid.
After a long time staring in awe at Terdanis, Stephanie ushered them to a piece of the deck where chairs and a table were arranged, and the siblings were helped into the most comfortable.
‘So, where shall we start?’ Stephanie began, but Rachel interrupted her.
‘Why are we here?’
‘You were injured,’ Stephanie replied at once. ‘You signalled for help and we helped.’
‘That doesn’t explain why we’re still here,’ Jon added. He kept his voice as calm as he could, though he could not stop his eyes being drawn to the vista every few minutes. He was sure it would vanish as soon as he looked away. Stephanie and Amy exchanged a glance.
‘I’m sorry for the way it had to be done,’ Amy said, and she sounded genuine to Jon’s ear.
‘The way it had to be done?’ Rachel demanded, folding her arms.
‘What was the date when you left Dawn Three?’ Stephanie asked.
‘Dawn Three?’
‘Sorry, it’s just short hand. What was the date when you left your time?’
‘We haven’t left anywhere!’ Rachel protested, but Jon answered.
‘4th August,’ he said slowly. ‘2004.’
Stephanie handed a small black device to them and, as they took it between them, a screen lit up. ‘This news report is from the BBC on the evening of, by your calendar, 5th August, 2004.’ She tapped the play icon and the siblings watched. Even months later, whenever Jon tried to recall the words of the broadcast, they would not come, but the images seared themselves into his brain forever.
‘You faked this,’ Rachel remarked tartly when it was finished. ‘It’s a fake video. You can fake all sorts of crap like that these days.’
‘I assure you, it’s real,’ Amy interjected.
‘You’re crazy,’ Rachel objected, then glanced at her brother. ‘Jon, tell her this is crazy!’
He slid the tablet onto the deck in silence. ‘You didn’t tell us why we’re here,’ he said evenly. Rachel gaped at him in disbelief, wondering why he did not agree with her at once.
‘Have you ever seen anywhere like this in your world?’ Stephanie asked, casting a hand towards Terdanis and the prefecture of Mepisol. ‘This building – the Kairosille Observatory – exists on this same spot in your time, but you don’t need me to point out that rather a lot changes in forty thousand years.’
‘You’re here because we need your help,’ Amy added, dropping into a chair opposite the pair. ‘As Steph said, none of what you can see out there exists in your time. Everything you see here… Dawn Two, as we call it… will end,’ she said, and her hands trembled on the arm rests. ‘Soon.’
‘And what you saw on that video is…’ Stephanie began, but Jon finished her sentence.
‘That’s the end of Dawn Three. Is that what you’re saying?’
Rachel stared in silent astonishment. Her brother! The eternal sceptic, believing in this rubbish?
‘Ah, our guests are finally awake! Miss Bisham, you should have informed me!’
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There wasn't a convenient break in the text, so I figured leaving it on a new character intro was probably a good point.
