What Really Lies Beyond (Working Title) Chapter 3

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Chapter 3- A Thousand Miles and Still Not Home2

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The outside world rushed by with lightening speed as the red car rumbled down the never-ending highway. To the (thankfully) slowing rhythm of my heart, the tall stoic sets of flats and concrete shop fronts with as much character as a fifty year old newsreader gradually turned into rolling green countryside, dotted with groups of sheep, fluffily mirrored in the blue sky. As a rainbow magically lit the heavens, and I saw farmer’s wives exchanging homemade pie, everything was put in perspective: my situation could even in some respects be considered lucky.4

Or, at least, that was what I was wishing had happened. Unfortunately, it was pitch black, and even though the busy, dirty streets of the city had eventually petered out, a dreary unkept landscape had taken their place: rough dirty shades of green marred by crooked trees and patches of mud were barely visible through the darkness, and the problem was compounded by the torrential rain absolutely smashing down from the dark grey sky. 5

Unfortunately, even after I'd endured falling over a dozen fences, life still had curveballs up its sleeve. Not that I'm one to mix metaphors. On the bright side, the drops rolling down the window in curious, gravity-defying patterns gave me something with which to overcome the tension hanging heavy in the conversation-free air.6

I can't say the air was quiet, because about half an hour after we'd jumped in the old red bomb, Jack had taken his eyes off the road (for the first time since we'd left the alley a few blocks from my house) to fiddle with the radio. He skipped past a truly sickening classical piano piece, hovered on the abomination to music that teens call 'rap' (it truly is a testament to the failure of our education system when young people can't even spell a music genre correctly – they all forget the 'c' at the front), and finally settled on a station with a bit of light jazz. I was quite happy with his decision, almost to the point of deciding I had been too quick in labelling him an up-tight, arrogant know it all, until the song had finished and the presenter (who I'm sure was about to take his last breath) announced it was now time for TalkBack Corner. 7

Six year old twins in front of an elevator of blood; slow haunted music; cannibals in the forest: those aren't bad omens. Slightly worrying perhaps, equivalent to forgetting an acquaintances birthday or arriving three minutes late for a party, but no where near bad. A bad omen is when radio's equivalent of a one-toned geography teacher with a love for history announces to the hundreds of pedantic white collar bores and those who haven't lost their privileges in our country's many asylums that it is time for TalkBack Corner. 8

I once had the misfortune to tune in to TalkBack Corner, and I personally believe that it was the final psychological horror that sent me to the shrink's office. Forget the stress of Dad leaving; of being Irish anywhere but Ireland and the death of my girlfriend in an unfortunate car accident on the way back from her other lover's house; it was this one radio program that sent me over the edge. I can hardly believe now I actually went to a psychologist! A shrink! What was I thinking? (Another moment when the useful punctuation mark that’s a cross between a question mark and an exclamation mark would come in handy). 9

Now, I have nothing against psychologists, but I sat in a hard backed chair for half an hour basically talking to myself and growing more uncomfortable as an extremely loud clock ticked by the seconds very, very slowly and if anything, I was more depressed after my appointment than before. When my time was up I had to stop myself running out of the unnaturally white office away from the girl with teeth that simply defied belief at the front desk, and I never went back. Ever. 10

After my friends found out about my little doctors visit, not only was I the butt of jokes, but psychology itself became popular material. One very long standing joke about the profession (that I heard upward of 60 times, often with an extra tagline alluding to the fact that with me he succeeded) is that psychologists choose mental health because they want to find somebody more messed up than they are. Funny, but not true. The real reason they pick a career every teenage girl has already spent five years studying at high school (that is complaining, rationalising and woe-is-me-ing) is that they have no other skills, can't relate to people and want to get paid an exorbitant amount of money for nodding their heads like bobble dolls and scribbling notes (most likely completely irrelevant to the patient – a shopping list or birthday card) on leather bound pads. 11

The most expensive con in Brittain's history – psychologist visits.12

Not that I have anything agaisnt them. I have healthy, non-suicidal relationships with lots of people in metal health. I'd even call some of them friends. My only problem is that I have a lot more very unstable relationships that have nearly driven me to self-harm with psychologists than ones that are enjoyable. Forget annoying nephews and thick bosses: they're simply little flies buzzing around my face, while, incidentally, I'm getting ready to go toe to toe with modern day Grim Reaper. Hho now wears a suit, pocket protector and scribbles in a leather bound notebook. Sound like a profession you know?13

Anyway, TalkBack Corner, like Points of View or Issue's Today, is a forum for those poor souls who have been cursed with a care for politics, the stock market, obscure business news and global issues call up and have their two cents worth broadcasted to the rest of the listening world (a continent about the size of a sock somewhere on Mars). The program started off with how stocks in the company Derholm Industries had risen by 12 cents while those in Golders Inc. had only risen by 8 cents. The switchboard had lit up like a Christmas tree in the North Pole during December; people were outraged! How could something like this be allowed to happen in modern Brittain? 14

Apparently four cents was very important, but seeing as I muted the television every time the economic news came on because the girl who did it, despite having a wonderful figure and an even nicer face, had a voice which continually made me wonder how she could fit that many fingernails on one blackboard, I was more than a little confused.15

Jack had ignored the radio completely after he had turned it on, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to some strange rhythm playing in his head, and Ally was staring out at the little abstract drops of water. Neither was turning off the radio. Maybe they were crazier than I thought. 16

I went back to playing connect the dots, and then got very engrossed in a round of writing messages on the window, after breathing on it to make my very own fog whiteboard. After I’d drawn shapes and written messages, I did everything backwards, so that somebody driving the other way could read it (if they actually cared). Now, you might think my entertainment was childish, but no child can quote Shakespeare on a car window, so I was in my very own league! All the while, I was desperately trying to block out Mr. Geography on the radio and his cohort of sub-human idiots. 17

Eventually, we took a turn off the straight highway, onto a dirt side road, and thick clumps of trees that had blocked out the hills in the distance a while ago now engulfed The Red Bomb (the car – it gotten christened in a moment of boredom…wait, one of many moments of boredom). I was rather excited at the new scenery, as we had been travelling for two and a half hours, and most of that had been spent of the highway where all I got to see was the number plate of the car behind and a look at a stern-faced businessman who was at the wheel. And I only got that if I twisted my neck into a very awkward and uncomfortable position.18

See, Jack had immediately jumped into the drivers seat, and Ally had waltzed over to the passenger side front seat like she owned it (which I must admit, there was a likelihood she did). That left me to try and squash my five foot eleven frame into the backseat which at the time I thought must have been made for somebody a little smaller. By now, I had realised it had been made for somebody a lot smaller. Like say, Raymond O'Brien, or a three year old. 19

Rearranging my lanky legs, I thanked the god I didn't really believe for giving me enough sense to sit behind Ally instead of Jack – his seat would have left me sitting Indian style on the cold leather. Games forgotten, I turned my attention to the outside world, watching the ghostly trees as a slight wind left them bobbing toward the ground and then sharply up again, like a hummingbird with a concussion on downers. 20

I literally jumped, cutting my throat in half with the seatbelt, when Jack's rough voice interrupted the Beetles classic floating from the speakers (TalkBack Corner had finished, that god).21

“We're almost there.”22

“Where is 'there'?” That was me, with a rough scratchy voice since I had been quiet for hours now.23

It was Ally who answered.24

“Our older brother left us a house out here when he died. Harry and Peta, our brother's kids, live there now, but we let them know when we'd be back.”25

“Do they know about this whole...thing?”26

She shook her head, and Jack spoke up. “We don't want them to know, either. Don't let them trick, coerce or annoy it out of you – or you'll have me to deal with.”27

After I made a dozen promises to myself not to say one word about our purpose (I didn't want to face Jack's wrath, I had an idea that could get painful), I thought for a minute. “You said that powerful people were behind it, right?”28

They both nodded.29

“Then won't they find out where we are? They could hurt your nephew and niece.”30

“It's a risk we had to take.” Jack said. “We were hoping to get to the bottom of this thing, or at least to your place, before Aiden was killed. Stop this whole problem before you, or anybody, even knew about it.”31

“But we were too late.” Ally finished.32

“How did you know about it in the first place?”33

They both sighed, and had yet another conversation that I didn't have a key to unlock. Parker's Law, I decided on. I should probably thank them, if I made it out of this adventure in one piece, because this Law could one day make me famous, and without them, I never would have thought of it. 34

Conversation over, Jack grimaced at me through the rear vision mirror. “The less you know the better, but like we said, your Dad changed after he left you guys. Had a couple lucky business ventures and made himself a bit of money. Along with that came some powerful friends and they are looking out for you, now that he can't.”35

I was annoyed at the lack of real answer, but I nodded anyway, and caught Ally's eye in the rear-vision mirror. Something seemed to pass between us; bouncing off the glass and smouldering its way through every nerve in my body. I had my very own wordless conversation, and it seemed to last for hours as I stared into the depths of her green eyes. I realised they were flecked with hazel. 36

Jack said something, and Ally spun to face him quickly, too quickly to be casual; breaking the connection. For some reason that hurt a little; it almost seemed like a rejection. I went back to looking at the waving trees; ghostly apparitions in a dead night. 37

Within a couple of minutes, the general form of an object – black on top of black – began to take shape as a wooden home, three bedroom, I would have guessed. As we came out from beneath the trees, a nearly full moon bathed the world in a silvery light, but it was far surpassed by the golden glare coming from the lights in the windows. 38

Jack stopped the car, sending gravel spraying out from beneath the wheels, and we all opened our doors in unison. I winced as blood rushed back into my cramped leg muscles and pins and needles peppered my feet. Two young teenagers, probably seventeen and nineteen, burst out the door and enthusiastically greeted their relatives. It was bear hugs, smiles and laughed hellos all around, even from Jack, which reinstated hope he had human qualities. I stood off the side, awkwardly shuffling my feet and looking at the damp green grass beneath my shoes. Apparently, I was a magnet for awkward situations. 39

Harry, the younger of the two and a dark haired, well-build lad, sent a pointed look in my direction. “Who's your friend?” 40

It was a loaded question, and I could tell from his tone that he was insinuating that I definitely wasn't a friend. I could have quickly denied everything, as Ally probably would, but two negative answers make a positive, and after all, it would be fun watching her stutter. 41

I wasn't disappointed. A wonderful red blush decorated her cheeks as she scrambled. “Oh, no, Harry. This is Dylan, a friend.”42

I even got sent an apologetic embarrassed look, somewhere there.43

Harry raised an eyebrow sceptically and she clarified further. “Of Jacks.”44

With a good natured grin, Peta turned to face me, offering a hand. “Hi, I'm Peta, and that idiot,” she motioned with a flick of her head, blonde hair following suit, “is my younger brother, Harry.”45

I sent her a warm smile, figuring that winning over the family was a good move, and in Irish brogue I smoothly responded. “It's great to meet you.”46

“How do you know Jack?”47

I sent a quick look over toward the man in question, but he simply grinned slightly, and cursing him in my head, it was my turn to scramble for an answer. “Oh, we met a few months ago. I interviewed him for a story I was writing...I'm a journalist.”48

I was quite proud of myself for coming up with a convincing lie, but my pride began to fade as both Peta and Harry's faces screwed up.49

“You interviewed a bank cashier?”50

Apparently his niece and nephew didn't know about his real day job. On that point, I didn’t either, but I apparently knew more than they did. Jack was now sending me a warning glare, reminding me of our earlier conversation. 51

“Uh, yeah. There had been...robberies. Hold ups, you know. At the…at the bank.” I was very happy with that explanation: it was clear concise and cleared absolutely everything up. 52

Peta turned an accusing glare on her uncle. “You never told us that!”53

“He wasn't involved. I was just...gathering...background information,” I interrupted, praying they weren't journalists themselves or anything. 54

They seemed to accept it. Ally shivered slightly, and Harry jovially pushed her toward the house. “Come on, it's too cold to stay out here.” 55

“The guest bedroom is ready, but there are only two singles in there.” Peta called out over her shoulder, as she led us inside. “So somebody is going to have to sleep on the couch.”56

“I don't mind,” I offered, just as Harry clapped his uncle on the back good naturedly, saying:57

“Jack'll do it, won't you Jack.” With another sly smile he grinned at Ally and I. “The two 'friends' can share a room.”58

Ally rolled her eyes. “Isn't it your bedtime, kid?”59

“Hey, I'm seventeen now! School's a bad memory and I've got my whole life ahead of me! No time to waste on sleep!”60

It was easy to stereotype the boy. He was the class clown; the popular funny guy. It was fairly obvious that his aunt, uncle and sister all loved him, despite his sense of humour, and I found myself taking to him as well; even smiling at his jokes. 61

Their situation seemed interesting. The two teenagers living on their own, even with their relatives checking in on them, was a strange occurrence in today’s age. I made a mental note to get the full story whenever I got a chance.62

We all settled down on the front veranda, with borrowed jumpers and jackets, joking and chatting the hours away while we watched the stars twinkle down at us from high up in space. I was brought out of my melancholy by an eruption of laughter.63

Apparently, Ally was telling a story. 64

“And your Dad asked me to go to the doctor's with you; he had a meeting or something. So we sit in the waiting room for half an hour; finally get called in, and I say to the doctor, 'My brother wanted me to bring Harry in. Apparently, he's had a mood change; he's always tired and upset and grumpy-' and you interrupt me to yell, at the top of your lungs: 'I am not grumpy!'.”65

Once again everybody burst into laughter, and I found myself chuckling along at Harry's expense. 66

“The doctor raises one eyebrow and grins, and says 'Yes, I see what you mean.'”67

Harry, with a curious pink tinge on his cheeks that he would adamantly put down to the cold, sheepishly grinned. “Hey, I was only four.” 68

When that didn't help any of the pales of laughter, he got a little defensive. “You don't have to bring it up every time you see me! Besides, it isn't like you guys haven't done stupid things!”69

“Yeah? What have we done that lives up to that?” Peta challenged.70

A sardonic grin plastered itself on Harry's face, and I could only imagine what that smile had done to girls before he'd finished high school. “Well, we could always fill our new guest in on your very first attempt at cooking.” He said to Peta. 71

Suddenly all the attention was on me, and I smiled self-consciously. “I'm up for it. What went wrong?”72

Jack guffawed. “What went right might be an easier question.”73

“Peta was six, and her parents were out in the backyard.” Allison said with a big smile.74

“So,” Harry continued, glad to get his own back, “she decides she's going to give cooking a go. She gets a saucepan, sticks it on the stove and-”75

“She's staring at all the different knobs. With the logic of a six-year old, she decides to turn them all,” Jack says.76

“But then she realises there is nothing in the pot,” Harry says, “so she races back into her room, grabs a Barbie doll and a tennis ball and throws them in.”77

Ally laughs. “When her parents come in, they see her on the stool with a wooden spoon stirring the mixture and chatting away to the doll. There was smoke coming out of the saucepan and she had tied one tea towel around her head and another around her waist. She looked hilarious. There’s a horrible smell all through the house, and after they have turned everything off, they have to call the fire department, to see if the fumes are dangerous.”78

“The man on the phone asks how a tennis ball and a Barbie doll got melted, and so Ben and Liz had to explain the whole thing to him,” Jack grinned, “and even he began laughing.”79

“I saw the pot,” Ally said, “and the doll had a leg melted to the bottom and the other one melted on the side. Her arm was over the side and she'd lost all her hair to the melting cover of the tennis ball, which was stuck to the bottom! Liz had to throw out her favourite saucepan!”80

After a few more laughs, Harry spoke up. “Well, it seems, Peta and I have been targeted, that leaves you and Jack.” He turned to Peta. “What stories do we have about them?”81

“Oh, look at the time,” Ally said, “we've got to get to bed; a long way to travel tomorrow. We're going to a concert down the coast.”82

“Oh, so that's why you're here,” Peta said dramatically, “and here I was thinking it was to see your favourite niece.”83

“You're my only niece,” Jack pointed out.84

“Exactly, so I get to be favourite.”85

I grinned at her logic. Exactly the kind of thing I would say. 86

Goodnights were eventually said, and I thought we'd gotten away with keeping them completely in the dark, when Harry popped his head back into the living room. 87

“Hey, did you guys have any bags? Because we didn't bring any in from the car.”88

Ally shook her head, brown hair following suit. “No, it was a sort of rushed thing. Besides, we have stuff here anyway.”89

“Dylan doesn't.”90

With a start I realised he was right. I didn't have anything. Letting a hand rest on the pocket of my faded Levi's, I conducted an inventory. Phone, iPod, keys (very useful now) and wallet. Four items to remember my old life by, because in running, I had left everything and everyone else behind. Here, with this close-knit family, enjoying a few laughs and a beer, I'd almost forgotten the entire night. It came rushing back in a wave of dread and nausea. I fought it back and looked up as Jack spoke, lobbing the words in my general direction. 91

“Dylan can borrow some of my things.” Jack had become a lot more generous and although I wouldn't describe him as warm and fuzzy, the kids had definitely made him seem a lot nicer than he had when he was shocking me at my kitchen table. I wasn't sure I wanted Jack's clothes, but I didn't have much of a choice. 92

“Thanks.”93

With that another half hour flew by, filled with mundane tasks like changing, teeth cleaning and pillow fluffing. By eleven the lights were out and the house was quiet. 94

I had hoped it would stay that quiet, but with 20/20 hindsight, I can tell you the bed bugs came out the next morning. And boy did they know how to bite.