《Ultimum》


 Prologue

    When facing death, one tends to philosophise, well as much as one can do when facing the endless chasm. Various unending questions pop up, seemingly innocuous, inevitably starting with prepositions such as what, who or seemingly more importantly why? Joe always wanted to know, and now, facing his death at the youngish age of 27, why? Why indeed, a well bred, some would say intelligent, even energetic fellow, was bleeding out in a hole beneath London, piss soaked trousers, which had seen better days even before the charity shops, now soaked with his life blood.


    A wry smile attempted to break out on his face as, statistically speaking, he was within the correct parameters and expecting something different was wholly outside of study which was now his imminent death. He felt an odd sense of sadness that he wouldn¡¯t be able to idly analyse the data of his death. He grunted. Pain or humour? Two sides of the same coin.


    The strength leaked out of him in tandem with his now slowed blood, and he considered his path that led to this inauspicious end. His current homelessness, disabilities, addictions now felt so external they verged on the abstract. His face flickered when he thought of something else. His Ex, Julia, was she okay? So benign was the question yet, even in death, was of the utmost importance. He grunted again.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    He wondered what his father would think, or rather, say.


    ¡®Pull your socks up Joseph¡¯ or ¡®Could be worse¡¯. Don¡¯t think so Dad, not this time. This time his chest did feel tighter, that was a pain he could not let go. He grunted, and shifted.


    His mother, an old memory, her face seemingly backlit by the sun, smiling. A foreign memory, one of his long gone youth. A mother not just in name then. She had a home now, and Darius to visit her, not that she knew that. He grunted, and shifted for the last time, the only warmth left in his body at his back which lent against a rugged stone beneath the dust. As his head tipped forward, his eyes which were still wide open even facing death in the darkness, saw a faint glimmer to his rear. ¡®Curious¡¯ was his last thought as he truly tumbled into the ultimate darkness, the glimmer forgotten.

 Chapter 1

    Joseph J. Peters was born to John and Maggie Peters on a cold night in November, in a small hospital on the outskirts of London. He was his parents first child, and with him, the stresses of a first child lent themselves known to his parents. His mother, as one would expect, bore the brunt of the shock, although he was planned, the difficulties of growing a human in one''s stomach can¡¯t not be understated. Maggie was content however when she held her firstborn in her hand, tired, but content. John on the other hand was a nervous wreck. Sleep had evaded him like flame avoids water and it showed. More bags under his eyes than a nan''s backdoor and a once white shirt, brown with the leavings of cheap hospital coffee. Still, he was happy when he saw his son. Despite the white hairs.


    After the birth, they returned to their dilapidated flat in Woolich, East London, south of the mighty river Thames. Maggie had maternity leave to look forward to, yet Joseph had to return to his part time job at the local university, indulging the burgeoning youth in their passions for geology. At least that¡¯s how John described it, the said named passionate students may have argued on the passion bit. To John however, it was a passion. He, unlike many, would have chosen to stay staring at the rock in Plato¡¯s cave. Give him a strata, and he was like a fly to a turd, it¡¯s remarkable he even managed to have a social life and even a wife!


    The couple had met at a house gathering held by one of John¡¯s flatmates. Maggie had turned up in the hands of another, turning heads left and right. John had been forced to attend because, well, it was his flat. It wasn¡¯t that John didn¡¯t like a knees up, it was more he had the hopes of his family on his shoulders, the only member of his mining village in the north to come to London and take lectures. Lots of rocks in the mines his Dad used to say, some we want some we don¡¯t, but they all tell a story.


    Needless to say, as in the want of Love, John and Maggie met and fell in Love. His passionate determination and her debonair charm worked well and hence, Joseph.


    Joseph¡¯s first 3 years were as eventful as one might expect for a baby, yet for the advent of a baby brother, Darius. Darius was everything one would hope for in a baby, bubbly, rambunctious and the apple of anyone¡¯s eye. Joseph was the same, and he knew, despite his young age, he now became a paladin to his brother.


    Many more years elapsed and his family grew older, wiser and perhaps maturer. Joseph was now 16 and had entered his first year of sixth form. His school was the local grammar school, Woolwich Grammar School for Boys and girls were now allowed to join for the last two years of secondary education. Just awful news for the male population.


    Joseph by now had somewhat found his path with a keen inkling for science, namely chemistry. The mixing of compounds and solutions, the paraphernalia of beakers and bunsen burners, the scents of concoctions and reacting elements, was a playground for his mind. It was one of those dreary Monday mornings at the start of term that Joe sat ready and awake for his first lesson in A level Chemistry, held by the much renowned eccentric that was Mr. Watson. The boys knew well of Mr. Watson and his propensity for his experiments to combust erratically usually with Mr Watson''s glasses flying across the room. It was clear that Mr. Watson loved his job, and also took great pleasure in entertaining each cohort with his legend. The newly integrated girls however, who usually came from the adjacent ¡®prim and proper¡¯ Woolwich girls school were caught unawares.


    Joe¡¯s desk partner was one of such ilk and when an introductory explosion took place at the front of the laboratory a look of concern took to her charming features. Joe, the veteran that he was, consoled the young lass, and mentioned that all of this was totally ordinary and of no cause for concern in a very gentlemanly and wise manner. Julia, for that was her name, took heed and that faint look of concern was promptly dispelled from her marred features to reveal an enchanting smile. Joe was stunned, his wise air dropped and replaced with a gawking awkwardness. ¡®Gods! What beauty!¡¯


    Julia was less inclined towards Joe now that his chin had dropped to the desk and turned back to Mr. Watson who was outlining the terms outline, dismissing Joe instantly. It was at this time that Joe suddenly became religious and knew he had to become a righteous crusader. ¡®Gods¡¯ he thought furiously, ¡®if I don¡¯t make this girl mine, I''ll join a monastery¡¯.


    After that historic first lesson, Joe made every attempt to gain some favour from the young miss Salaya, who¡¯s rebuttals ranged from anything from an upraised eyebrow or to the most embarrassing of cases, asking publicly to change lab partners. Thankfully, despite the shame dealt to Joe, Mr. Watson denied the supplication, with the reason that the two best budding chemists should be sat together. Little did Mr. Watson know what he had set in motion with his decision, or maybe he did and his genius was truly frightening.


    Needless to say, due to their continued contact and their very obvious shared love of chemistry the two became closer, with Julia slowly lowering her walls and Joe losing his zealotry for her beauty and gaining a healthy respect for her scientific mind. He found to his dismay that she surpassed his chemical learnings, and soon took the wunderkids'' limelight. Still, not all was lost as their cooperation led to greater shared insights than if he had been apart for this sure genius.


    With this in mind, Joe¡¯s focus on his other two A levels became stronger, one being philosophy, held by the illustrious headmaster himself, and the other Physics. Physics was by no means one of Joe¡¯s strengths, in fact he was positively dull when it came to mathematics. Still, it was the challenge that drove him on, not to mention his love of the adventure of the frontier. And space is the greatest frontier to man or even possibly to organic life itself. If physics is his weakness, then philosophy is his strength. Not the ability to regurgitate names, dates and figures, but rather to broaden the depth of an argument or pinpoint the right question to ask. What is philosophy but the ability to think and digest; to expound and extrapolate; to mutter incoherently over a pint to your mates late at night. Voltaire said a man only philosophises when his belly is full, but Joe would add and his pint glass topped up to the brim!


    A full term went by and soon canned music extolling jubilation was blaring from the local shops and radios shows. For London, the forecast remained very much the same, wet and dreary. Regardless, the students of Woolwich Grammar School for Boys or WGSB as was printed on the rugby jerseys, were getting in the mood. School was over, the holidays were approaching, and that meant liberal libations from their respective families which they usually have to pinch on the sly. It was the last class of Mr. Watson¡¯s for the year and the atmosphere was light. Exams were seemingly a millenia away and the students'' minds were preoccupied with whose party they would be attending or which pub they could fraud their way into. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Julia and Joe were likewise discussing their holiday plans and Joe indicated to Julia that he would be going to his mate Bob¡¯s parents later for a party. Bob¡¯s parents were away and he had invited his band mates, Joe included being the guitarist for their fledgling band, the Rice Crispies. Joe wasn¡¯t sure of the name but Bob insisted stating that they had a crisp original sound. Joe still remained unconvinced without even considering the possible copyright infringements, yet he remained mute to Bob assertiveness. Joe had explained this to Julia, and had proudly noticed his well mastered segue to ask her whether she would like to come down to the local Dragon¡¯s Roar prior. Julia looked at Joe with the customary raised eyebrow, yet seeing how earnest he was being, and that she was planning on going there anyway, she graciously accepted. Little did she know what she had just done to poor Joe¡¯s heart. He suddenly felt hot and cold simultaneously, and couldn¡¯t figure out whether he wanted to scream joyously and declare his undying love to Julia immediately or run back to his house and hide in the bathroom. He did neither and just remained staring at Julia gormlessly. As Chemistry was not the last lesson of the day for them, they decided to meet at the Pub at five and then go with the flow from there.


    Joe dashed home on his once stolen bicycle, sweeping past his mum in the kitchen, who frowned at the lack of greeting. He then proceeded to shower and clean himself until his skin was red raw. ¡®Things must go right today! He announced to himself in the mirror, ¡®she is the only thing that matters in this bleak world! Oh I, the poor Romeo of the modern age must not befall the tragedy of young love¡¯. Such mutterings were born witness by Darius who had just got back from school himself. As younger brothers tend to do, he repeated Joe¡¯s mutterings loudly throughout the flat with much mirth. Maggie repeated the words ''tragedy of youth¡¯ as she continued with washing the dishes.


    Finally the preordained time came and Joe met his mates at the Pub, Bob included. Bob insisted that he got the first round, first because he looked about 25 with his great black beard and secondly he was feeling on top of the world with his upcoming inaugural houseparty. Hosting house parties, as any young student will know, is the apex of student societies and will do wonders with one''s luck with the birds. By twenty four minutes past Joe was starting to become considerably more antsy. His mates had astutely noticed the usually slovenly looking Joe was now in his best rugby shirt, one he didn¡¯t even wear for the world cup, and had even found time to apply aftershave, one given by his nan the last christmas and never opened prior. They, not being thick, realised a game was afoot, casting knowing looks between themselves. By five thirty, the door of the Dragon¡¯s Breath once again opened, exposing those within to the cold outside air. She had arrived.


    There are times when we think we are dreaming, yet we are living, and there are times when we dream when we think we are living. The former was very much so for Joe that fateful day at the end of term. The atmosphere of Christmas at his local Pub, the companionship of his bosom friends, even the tinny christmas tunes played into the dreamscape that was his romanticism. To Joe, Julia was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen as she crossed the threshold into the Pub. Green leggings that looked like dragonscale itself rose from her delicate ankles, An arse you could bounce a penny off and then her shapely upper figure, one that would make mere muses of legend grovel in shame. Her hair, which was usually tied in a bun, was finally given freedom to roam across her shoulders which along with a green scarf, framed her oval, slightly ethnically tanned face. It was not an exaggeration to say that many eyes turned to the door to witness her entrance.


    Seemingly ignorant of the effect she had on the atmosphere of the pub, she shrugged off her scarf, saying something to her friend at her side. From then she looked across the bar, searching, and then with a smile, finding. Joe suddenly felt uncomfortable with her gaze, but also proud. Was he the cause of such a beauty to appear in this dimension? Was it for him that she was here? And other such narcissistic thoughts.


    ¡°Drink?¡± he asked her as she finally made her way over. ¡° Yeah, pint of whatever you¡¯re having please Joe¡±. She looked from Joe to Bob, inclining her head slightly. ¡°You¡¯re having a houseparty later I hear, mind if me and my friend tag along? The party we were heading to got cancelled as Tom¡¯s parent¡¯s came back early¡±.


    Bob in his usual charismatic manner replied to the affirmative and drinks were finally ordered. Julia introduced her friend officially to the gang, some who already met and the buzz of the pub took over. Finally, Bob announced that the posse would be heading back to his in Canning town on the DLR (Docklands light railway) and so they all traipsed off, much livelier for a few drinks.


    Now a houseparty, is anything and everything you might hope it would be, for those committing debauchery at the tender age of 16 or 17. The pagans had their coming of age ceremonies, some thankfully left to history along with their druids, the Jews have bar mitzvahs and the average adolescent have house parties. Ripe with drugs, alcohol and sex. At least that was the hope of these boys becoming men and girls becoming women. Most of the time, it was crying into your mates shoulder after yet another rejection in the wee hours of the morning, and then salving said wound with some neo philosophy. For Joe, this night was different, he was in love. Somehow, someway, something so stupefying had happened. He had kissed Julia! Out on the garden swing seat they had sat in the cold, cupping some stolen whiskey from Bob¡¯s dad''s drinks cabinet. They had chatted about school, about music, about nothing and then it happened. A sloppy inexperienced kiss, but a kiss all the same. It had lasted forever, an entwining of souls, so Joe would like to have thought, simultaneously an entwining of tongues. And then suddenly it was over, all too soon. They continued to sit in companionable silence, hands held as they watched the sky over the hedges, the stars blinking in and out. THen her phone rang, it was her dad and he was here to pick her up. And then she was gone. They had kissed, he had even got to touch her breast through her shirt, and now she was gone. The place suddenly felt so empty, the party was now so dull, when it was so vibrant. Joe took another beer from the fridge and went to wear his bandmates jamming with a spliff being passed between them. They eyed him, but didn¡¯t ask him a single question, simply handing him the joint as he sat down.


    He felt depressed yet elated all the same. He had succeeded, he had kissed a goddess but now he felt like a mere mortal, grasping at divinity. He wanted more¡­ More what though, more time. He sat in silence contemplating this emotion that adults know so well, the passing of time. He hated that feeling. Yet he knew, rationally, one can only have the ups if you have downs. For there to be existence, there must be absence, and for there to be a future, inevitably there must be a past. As the weed took hold, he mused on the idea that if we didn¡¯t recognise time as the movement of one particle to another and that movement being consciously remembered, would we even have time? Is it just vectors, forever changing, with only conscious minds to remember where the vectors once were? He felt a shiver creep up his neck, too deep, too late and damn, should i text her?!

 Chapter 2

    Christmas passed the same way as it usually did. Maggie and John steamed away in the kitchen preparing various dishes of various origin. John had travelled a lot for his job looking at stratum as he became more well known in his field so had taken to quite a few foreign cuisines. Whenever he returned from some prolonged jaunt he would attempt to incorporate said cuisine into the household menu. Maggie, who was both the declared and self declared chef of the house took these bouts with love and lent herself to learn the new recipes to John¡¯s pleasure. They did not last long these bouts and the usual pie and mash or pasta would soon return to the menu yet they did add some exciting dishes to their diet. Unfortunately the loo would be occupied for long stints post said bouts but no one truly complained. Christmas was no exception, and as John had just returned from Fimmv?reuh¨¢ls in Sweden, they now had Lingonberry jam for the turkey as opposed to cranberry. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Darius and Joe made to avoid the kitchen as much as possible as they were more of a hindrance than a help but invariably, as the flat wasn¡¯t exactly Buckingham Palace, they would get underfoot and be forced into some chore or rather. Joe was somewhat preoccupied with thoughts on Julia. She was spending her Christmas with her Dad¡¯s family in the country and mentioned she¡¯d rather be in London. Joe read the text with disbelief knowing that her Dad¡¯s family was minted and their place in Essex was beyond any Christmas he could imagine in grandeur. Not that he besmirched his own Christmas, just that he was a realist, and knew they would have a 100ft tree and mulled wine pouring out of their ears. Joe would forever remember this Christmas as being one of his happiest, and looking back, always hoped he could force himself to savour it that little bit more.

 Chapter 3

    They say that bad things come in pairs and that remained true for Joe that year. Things remained steady when they returned to school after christmas. They started preparing for their midterms with earnest which would help them realise their predicted grades for next year''s A levels. The midterms came and went and slowly April approached. The end of year exams and simultaneously the beginning of Joe and Julia¡¯s official relationship. He had popped the question one day in chemistry whether she wanted to be his girlfriend and she had accepted immediately. A natural progression in Julia¡¯s mind, she liked Joe a lot and found his company preferable to other louts in the school. They both did exceedingly well in the end of years, Joe at the top of the class of Philosophy and just behind Julia in chemistry. In physics he was only middling but for that he was happy, could be worse said his Dad.


    Julia was taking a break over the summer to gain work experience in a pharmaceutical lab in Kent called Tizer that her Dad was a manager in. ¡®Lucky git¡¯ Joe had said as his job for the summer was behind the counter at Subway wrapping lettuce for the forever ungrateful. Kent was not miles away, in fact only an hour on the train from Stratford with the advent of the high speed from St Pancras. Yet to Joe and Julia it felt like the Atlantic. It¡¯s all very well in a relationship to say fancy going to the pub, or the shop when you¡¯re both around the corner, but when it comes to different counties, things seem to become more complicated. Questions such as where will we stay, how will we pay, what will we do become a lot harder to answer.


    An example of which is where they had agreed to meet for the upcoming weekend in June. Due to work commitments Julia had to cancel and there 2 weeks were lost where they didn¡¯t see each other. Slowly over the long three month summer they drifted apart, every meeting they had felt strained, almost forced. It wasn¡¯t that Joe himself wasn¡¯t busy, in fact his band, after changing their name to The Swinging Noodles, Bob¡¯s idea again, had even managed to book some minor gigs at beer festivals and the like. Practice and even writing new songs for the band took up a lot of time. That along with his voracious reading list for philosophy, with Reggy his classmate often saying ¡®He Kant do it captain!¡¯. Not to mention his extra reading and studying of physics and the calculus behind it and his shifts at Subway left him even busier than he was at school. Joe didn¡¯t like the fact that they were drifting apart. In fact he made an effort to reignite the romance with flowers and gifts. Julia understood this well and they agreed that things will return to their best when school starts in September. The last year of free secondary schooling in the UK, 6A as they call it in private schools or upper sixth everywhere else. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    It was late August when Joe was returning from his penultimate shift at subway. The rain was falling miserably and decided to skip the bike ride and shove his bike on the tube. The tube in London is notorious for being a mobile blackout so Joe took out his latest subscription to The New Scientist to read up on SpaceX, an innovative private space company. Apparently the CEO was in talks to buy rockets from the Russians for study. Unnoticed to Joe the tube came to be held up at East Ham with a signal fault. Apparently the recent minor quake had caused some damage to the subway and some subsidence had caused various issues for Transport for London.


    Finally after a thirty minute delay the tube made its way to West Ham where Joe would change to the DLR to return to Woolwich Arsenal. In West Ham his phone vibrated in his pocket, indicating an incoming call. It was his brother. Joe answered. HIs dad was dead.


    There isn¡¯t much going on in one¡¯s head when tragedy of such a scale strikes. Disbelief was Joe¡¯s first sentiment. A cruel joke from his brother perhaps. His brother¡¯s silence subdued that thought. Maybe there was a mistake, maybe it wasn¡¯t there Dad? What happened to whom? I should call my Dad, I''m sure he¡¯ll answer. Isn¡¯t he back in Sweden looking at the volcanoes again? Joe tells Darius of his plan and hangs up without waiting for a reply. He doesn''t want to hear what his brother has to say because somehow he knows. He knows it in his gut like when you know it¡¯s going to rain. He calls his father and the phone is answered by a male voice. Not his Dad. A Swedish voice with excellent english. ¡°Sorry¡­loss¡­accident¡± are the only words Joe¡¯s brain processes. The tube rattles on to its next stop as Joe stares blankly out the window. Darius calls again, his voice sounds strained. He say big brother for the first time in his life, he says ¡°Big brother, it¡¯s mum, she¡¯s gone fucking crazy mate, she heard about Dad and then¡­ You need to get back here asap bro. I can¡¯t do this alone¡±.


    This wakes Joe up, the old feeling of being his brother¡¯s knight returns and he jumps off the train at the next stop, bike forgotten.


    ¡°Taxi!¡±

 Chapter 4

    Life insurance is a peculiar ethical minefield. My father died? But we got 500k in life payout? Should we be happy because we got the money or hate the money because it represents my Dad¡¯s life in pure hard cold cash? These thoughts and others ran through Joe¡¯s mind as he sat in the solicitor''s office as he rattled off the implications of his father¡¯s will, trinkets and a diary. Then the payout from the insurance company and an added payout from the company John was working for, when he died on their site of operations. The solicitor seemed indifferent to the boy¡¯s blank faces, or maybe just inured. ¡°Diary?¡± Joe registered, didn¡¯t know dad kept a journal. Maybe Mum¡­ nevermind. He looked over at Darius who looked gaunt, verging on sickly. They had both been through it, but maybe it was worse for Darius. Yes he was only 14 to Joe¡¯s 17 but also, he was there to witness their Mum¡¯s breakdown. For that is what it was. When she had got the news of John¡¯s death she had not taken it well. She had literally lost her shit. For a 14 year old fresh from hearing of his Dad¡¯s passing he did remarkably well, admirably in fact. Joe attempted a smile at Darius but faltered, he wasn¡¯t much better off. He looked at his phone, a message from Julia on the screen unopened. Keep things separate for now he thought, I need control.


    The solicitor proceeded to tell the brothers about how their mother will likely be institutionalised following a court judgement and that the brothers will be the sole beneficiaries of the will, including some odd occult bands John liked to support receiving some cash. John had added them to his will as a joke to his Maggie, thinking he¡¯d have ample time in the future to make more serious amendments. Joe thought about how some of these bands were likely defunct and the solicitor was going to have a much harder time than he realised tracking down these elusive multinational bands. This in turn made his heart ache so he gazed at the message from Julia once again and felt his emotions stabilise.


    He would be turning 18 this coming November and then he could inherit the property in its entirety. Darius would receive half himself when he turned 18 and would be under the care of Joe until then, with certain obvious provisions. Joe felt himself thinking of War and Peace and wondering if any egomaniacal greedy Counts would start chasing after their inheritance. Or was it a prince and his father the archduke? Am I Pierre? Is Julia Natasha or Helene I wonder? He glanced at his phone once again, undecided. Looking up he sees the solicitor handing over papers to be signed. My mother is mad and my dad is dead, and here am I signing papers for money that doesn¡¯t belong to me. Literally breaking down a man¡¯s whole life into numbers. He signed away; his signature was a copy of his Dad¡¯s swirls he had stolen when ¡®borrowing¡¯ his Dad¡¯s fountain pen to practise. Idle thoughts bringing yet more pain.


    The solicitor spoke more and attempted some form of consolation. It was all just noise to Joe and the Solicitor knew it. Not his first Rodeo as they say. The solicitor, Garret Stone, whose name was as joyless as his profession then proceeded to softly kick the boys of his office with promises to keep in touch and abreast of any legal confuscations. The car ride back to their flat was filled with silence, swollen like a precipitous cloud. Darius put on his headphones, yet played no music whilst Joe observed the passing bleak streets of London. Where there was once life and excitement, the streets now felt grey and lifeless. The winter had come and the leaves had fallen, swept up by the passing cars.


    Back in their apartment they felt stifled. What could they do that would not be agony in its rawest state? Cooking supper? No mother watching telly? No crap Dad jokes?


    ¡°Want a drink?¡± Joe asked Darius, bringing out two tumblers and his dad¡¯s favourite whiskey. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Sure¡± came a grunt.


    They sipped in silence. ¡° We will have to think about the funeral Dar¡±.


    Another grunt.


    ¡° I think we should move to Nan and Grandad¡¯s asap¡±


    This time a slow nod.


    ¡°Maybe we should..¡±. This time he was interrupted by Darius sobbing loudly. ¡°Why us JJ?¡± ¡°Why him? Why Dad? Mum¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry mate, we just got fucked. Could be worse though, at least we don¡¯t have all those family videos that others have. Imagine videos of Dad lecturing us on some other obscure rock?¡±


    Darius sniffled and laughed ¡°Yeah or one of him and mum trying to sing auld langs eye. People would pay to get that copy incinerated!¡±


    They both drank, they both cried and they both remembered.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna go visit Mum tomorrow, the doctor said the drugs they gave her have helped¡±


    ¡°I won''t come with¡± Darius looked at his shoes, ¡° I can¡¯t see her yet, not like that. Not yet¡±


    ¡°Take your time Dar, she¡¯ll get better for sure¡±.


    Joe lay in bed that night, his phone illuminating his face like some poor rendition of Oz. He finally answered Julia, afterall he would be seeing her back in school in a few days, essentially an orphan, with no Alfred to keep him on the straight. What he could say by text? So he rang. They talked, she consoled, she offered to meet, he declined citing he needed time to sort himself. They rang off and somehow Joe felt lighter.


    Once again Monday came round and Joe was up and ready for School, his black blazer hanging clean after its visit to Mr. Singh¡¯s, as fastidious as ever. Nothing is stranger than normalcy, especially after tragedy. Cycling through the neighbourhood on his new bike like he had done so a million times before, yet every scene pulled a heartstring like some cruel conductor of a solemn orchestra. The bleakness of London''s autumn seemed to conspire with the conductor. He double locked his bike upon arrival, thefts were known even in the school¡¯s grounds.


    He had been instructed by an email prior to visit the Headmaster first thing so he made his way to what the boys called the corridor of doom. Rarely were the students summoned here for anything good and more often than not a delinquent could be found at a solitary desk marooned in the middle of the corridor, shame and punishment in equal measure. Little did the teachers know that this was where many would hope to come to get a glimpse of the headmaster¡¯s secretary, well known to be the most beautiful women in the school. Many rumours of thongs worn by Miss McKye would send the boy''s rampant imagination into overdrive.


    Joe did not dwell on these thoughts for long as he was summoned directly into the headmasters office. The office was decorated with various accolades and awards. Dr. Fox was a proud teacher and he was proud of his school. A good teacher is like a father, a teacher for life. That being said, not many would want to stick around Dr. Fox for too long, his temper was legend.


    Dr. Fox asked the obvious questions and Joe answered the obvious answers. Meaningless platitudes and rote responses. So the merry goes round. Finally Dr. Fox reaffirmed Joe was okay to return to School. Had he had enough time to recover etc. etc. Joe replied he needed the distraction of education right now. Something positive to focus on. And of course his friends; Bob had finally got back from his family holiday and Joe felt he needed someone to rely on, even just an iota.


    Dr. Fox ushered Joe out of the room with a concerned look shot towards his back, shaking his head and then ducking back into his office. Not even Miss McKye got a second look from Joe as he made his way to his first class.

 Chapter 5

    Julia and Joe finally went all the way one chilly Friday afternoon in November. They had come back from the pub together to Joe¡¯s now empty flat, his brother having moved to their Grandparents. They had drunk more than they should and they were somewhat in a torpor. One thing led to another and the deed was done, sleep coming quickly to Joe. Julia however, now sober, sat awake staring out the window to roofs and streetlights adjacent. Shadow cloaked her face as she sat.


    Joe woke up dazed and confused, patting around to find only soiled bed sheets. He squinted at his phone, blinded by the backlight seeing naught but his cover screen of him and Julia in St James Park on a sunny day that Summer. Hard to remember such a day compared to the pouring rain in the street outside. After performing his morning ablutions he decided to give Julia a call. Surely she just wouldn¡¯t leave without even leaving a note or waking me up right? Maybe she had work?


    She answered her phone after four rings, stated that she was busy and she would call him later and then hung up. Somewhat stung by this abrupt response Joe lay back in bed and flicked through youtube. A test flight of Falcon 1? Another failure? What a shame. As he wasted the day away, the waited for call never came. Finally impatient, he texted her, ¡®will you call me today at all? Is there something wrong?¡¯


    ¡°Nothing¡¯s wrong¡± she replied, ¡°Just with fam atm will call tomorrow xx¡±


    Joe was no fool so he decided to ring Bob, the sage on relationships especially since the success of his house party. ¡°Just give her time mate, it was a big deal and I''m sure she¡¯s just taking time to process it. Wanna come to Dragon¡¯s roar later? Jonas is putting on a gig and he¡¯s got that new guitarist Tom with him, supposed to be real good.¡±


    ¡°Naa Bobs, I''ll skip ta mate, hanging from yesterday¡±


    ¡°Alright, next time then mate¡±.


    The sun rose on its name day like an emperor of old, and Joe rose with it. After cooking a sumptuous breakfast of bacon and eggs he called Julia. She picked up and they talked about nothing, making no attempt to broach the subject of Friday night. Finally, Joe asked whether she was okay with what they did together or whether it was too soon for her. He shifted in his seat with the question but he had no choice. She answered that it was lovely and she wished she remembered it more as she had drunk too much. Joe laughed and agreed.


    ¡°See you at school tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Yes babe, see you tomorrow, gonna be busy with coursework all day. Kill me aha!¡¯


    After the call Joe¡¯s face relaxed and he decided that he also had much course work to complete. Exams and applying to Uni will be on them in no time at all.


    ¡ª----


    The following Friday was Joe¡¯s birthday. He was finally 18 and he was on track to become a young millionaire. His mates had organised a do down at the favourite Dragon¡¯s Roar, still open despite its serving of minors. The landlord was most likely glad one of his regulars was now legal, yet whether he noticed from behind his interminable copies of the Daily Star one would never know.


    Julia had turned up in the same green leather leggings she had once worn on their first date and the effect was immediate. She blushed at Joe and his pals ogling and she quickly sat across from Joe, the white silk she had braided into her deep black, almost purple hair swinging like a willow caressing a river.


    They sang, they danced, they sang some more. Joe made toasts to his father, toasts to his friend and lastly to his most beautiful girlfriend. Julia¡¯s smile remained, watching Joe almost fondly, yet if one was to look closely one would see a twitch in her eyebrow, almost imperceptible. Bob, always aware however, frowned and looked at Julia closely. She noticed his gaze, smiled again, and then looked away.


    The night went on and finally Joe had his limit, too many toasts, too many songs and he was out for the count,


    ¡°Help me take him home?¡± Julia asked Bob.


    ¡°Sure love¡± he laughed donning Joe like a cloak. That¡¯s saying a lot, Joe was no slouch at 6¡¯2¡± and yet Bob hefted him like a sack of potatoes.


    ¡°Rugby¡± he grunted at Julia¡¯s raised eyrebrow.


    They got Joe home and Bob dumped him into his Bed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s got some of his old man¡¯s whiskey still about the old sop. Fancy a nightcap Jules?¡±


    Julia hesitated and then shrugged her shoulders. ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡ª-----


    Joe woke up to a pounding headache, a full bladder and a mouth like a camel¡¯s left foot. Staggering to the privy he almost pissed himself right there and then. On his couch, where his parents used to sit, was his best friend stuck like a limpet to his girlfriend. Clothes were not included. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    They had yet to notice and the noises of lovemaking continued. Joe returned stiffly to his room, picked up his laptop and bag, walked past the oblivious couple in the midst of their throes and exited the flat. Outside in the street the remnants of the late night crews were coming home. Joe leant up against a large bin and gave leave to the nausea. As he walked away, no emotion could be seen on his face.


    ¡ª----


    He knew this couch well; this was the couch he would sit at waiting for the 5am cartoons to start. This was the couch where he would eat biscuits and listen to his grandad''s tales of the cavenous mines and the perilous events and that evil ''milk snatcher''. Joe never understood when he was younger why anyone would snatch people¡¯s milk and booed wholeheartedly whenever his grandad brought her up. His grandad was always pleased with this reaction, giving him some sweets that came from his seemingly bottomless pockets. Even now, 10 years later Joe was sure there were sweets in those corduroy trousers. ¡°You don¡¯t like sweeties¡± he would say as he would ply Darius and Joe with another bag of pear drops or suchlike. ¡°Don¡¯t tell your mother now you two!¡±


    Now he sat on the couch drinking a cup of tea with a digestive in hand. His grandad was reading the paper in his own settee, glasses perched on the end of his nose, perilously close to dropping yet always at the last moment being propped back. His Nan was watching the telly, whilst answering correspondence. Joe was sure his Nan got more mail then the Queen. He reckoned she kept the royal mail in business all on her lonesome.


    ¡°Nasty business that. A wrong¡¯uns always a wrong¡¯un mark my words Joe¡± came the remark from behind the paper.


    ¡°Forget about them dear, plenty of fish in the sea and all that. I mean look at your grandad, never in a million years would i have thought i would have spent my life with a dusty old miserly miner like him¡±


    ¡°Mmm nasty business indeed. What did you say about me love?¡±


    ¡°Nothing dear¡± she winked looking at Joe, eyes crinkling.


    Joe couldn¡¯t help but smile. Some things would always be alright, regardless. Still, he stared at the brownish murk that was his tea, and tried to understand how he felt.


    He felt that he should feel anger, maybe even betrayal at least, but he just felt numb. Wouldn¡¯t normal people exact anger, crimes of passion even? The French were experts in that. Maybe I''m just too english, I left like a thief in the night, like I was the one committing a sin. Yet I feel nothing. Just ¡­ numb.


    He nodded at his grandparents and smiled. They seemed content with his response and continued with what they were doing.


    He thought about how these parents of his deceased father seemed so down to earth so pure, despite the passing of their only son. And yet, his other grandparents, Grandmother Sue and Grandfather Joe were the opposite. As soon as their daughter lost her marbles they seemingly disinherited the whole branch and focused on their other more ¡®normal¡¯ children and grandchildren.


    He didn¡¯t care one way or another, the two people in front of him were the only grandparents he needed. His cousins and aunts and uncles were essentially foreigners, the blood between purged as if blood letting would break all legal and emotional ties.


    He contemplated turning his phone back on, knowing that he had messages from both Julia and Bob. If he felt nothing, why not? Yet the phone remained dead, a useless brick in his pocket.


    ¡ª---


    Joe returned to school as if nothing had happened, shunning all those that came to speak with him. He focused solely on his school work and managing the affairs of his father and his sectioned mother. Bob came up to him many times to talk but Joe only smiled and indicated he was busy. He quit the band the following week hanging up his fender for the last time. He didn¡¯t feel the music anymore. Tom, who was the guitarist in another popular band took his place in what was now called The Vibe. Apparently he was the one who chose the new name as a precondition for joining.


    Perversely, Joe dived deeper and deeper into the Calculus behind the physics, even deciding to take a late A level in differential calculus. Now with four main A levels to pursue he was even busier. He crossed paths with Julia earlier on, but the look of hatred that appeared on his face kept her away. He was surprised by his reaction but ignored it, like the rest of his emotions, buried along with his father.


    The funeral was held late November, with only close family attending and some of John¡¯s colleagues from when he was a professor. A cursory member of the Black Rock foundation turned up to represent the company he worked for prior to his death, but they only stayed to make sure that Joe was happy with their payout. He told them to fuck off.


    His university applications came back all positive stating that if he kept to his predicted grades an interview and even a place was almost 100 percent guaranteed. Oxford even said that if his Physics hit A* along with Calc there was a chance of a scholarship. Joe was happy with that, University fees being what they are. Not that he didn¡¯t have the money of course, his father had made sure of that, just the prestige that attached itself to scholarships, especially at Oxford, were hard to beat. He could be working at Cern or even SpaceX in no time with that kind of record.


    ¡ª


    Time continued to tick by and days became weeks and weeks became months. Exams were held, students swotted and sweated. Dreams were made or crushed from the opening of a website, choice D universities became choice A and they resigned themselves to their fate. On the other hand Joe had succeeded, A*s across the board, and Oxford was a sure thing. The college that was the best for Physics had already sent him a welcome pack for the following September.


    Now he no longer had a reason to get a job for the summer he decided to travel. He bought himself a rail pass and travelled through all the various countries he had only read about or his dad had often cooked some dodgy dish from. He read profusely, wiling away the long hours on the train with texts by Wittgenstein and Hobbes in preparation for the logic courses he would take at Oxford. He spent an inordinate time in Rome, being an empire fan like most modern imperials, poking down alleyways and sipping coffee at roadside bars. He met many women and bedded some, names and faces a pleasant dream soon forgotten, a watercolour canvas, beautiful in its impermanence. And thus he returned to the British Isles, a travelled man, maturer perhaps, undoubtedly wiser. So began his university days.

 Chapter 6

    Oxford, to the romantic, is a monument to learning. A living, breathing edifice that''s dedication to knowledge is renowned around the world, putting itself on the same platform as the library of Alexandria, the Lost sea scrolls or to many englishman¡¯s dismay, Harvard. Yet, like many romantic ideals, their foundations are far from savoury. To say little of the University''s heavy investment in fossil fuels or the inherent elitism that destroys geniuses in their cradle, the underbelly of Oxford was much the same as any university. Highly stressed students pissing up walls, excreting in urinals, fighting in the streets, prostitution in the dorms, mass bullying of the weak; the usual. That being said, for 3 grand a year for tuition alone the learning centres were impressive. For Joe, that is all that mattered. The world renowned professors who moonlit at places like the Large Hadron Collider or were consulted on movies for their in-depth knowledge of history, fashion or what have you, gave the place its credibility. Doctor this, doctor that, CBE this and MBE that.


    Joe was quite happy with this state of affairs and he looked forward to his lectures with these prestigious lecturers, preeminent in their respective fields. Joe found out after some time the best way was to catch the professor at one of the innumerable pubs scattered around the city. He had stumbled into his Physics professor by accident when on a date, who was quaffing ale at the Bear Inn. After Joe had bought Dr. Wikarski, a large VSOP cognac, the amenable doctor was much more open to Joe¡¯s inquiries to the intricacies of the recent lecture and the date, much to her distaste, was soon forgotten.


    Joe was on the promised scholarship, and as such he was entitled to free accommodation with Trinity college. The digs were of standard student quality, PDF board furniture, shared fridges and dingy communal rooms. This is where the students would invariably pre-drink whilst listening to Radio 1. Joe¡¯s roommates were a loquacious bunch, and as lively as fermenting yeast. The comparison didn¡¯t stop there as there was also a permanent floating odour that drifted across the cramped room like mustard gas across no man¡¯s land. No wonder women were rarely brought back to be introduced to the crew, solely left in the common room with all other hopefuls. Joe was no exception, and if ever he got lucky, we would rent a room at a local hotel. Such was Joe¡¯s life for the first year, heavily studious, occasionally pursuing a light dalliance, but overall keeping himself to himself. He declined most invitations of his roommates for parties and the like and would often disappear to the vast library to peruse some unfathomable tome. The library was truly his sanctuary, he would often just scan the stuffed bookcases with a wistful gaze, knowing he would never have the time to fully digest even a fraction of the knowledge contained therein. He became so well known to the head librarian that he was offered a post as a librarian who¡¯s only duties were to make sure the books were looked after whilst also earning the right to take more than just the usual 3 books home with him.


    Epistemology is the study of knowledge and through his learning back at WGSB with Dr. Fox Joe had found a calling in this pursuit. An existentialist at heart, Joe took his time to analyse and break down everything he learned, not relying on any fallacies or broken axioms as far as he could. The pure breadth and scope that his own personal learning took surprised even himself. He found himself studying the engineering behind Brunel¡¯s nascent tunnel building and then hopping over to see which stitch was used on a hem of a dress. This seemingly useless information to his field, helped to fill in the void within him, or at least patch it. Occasionally of course he would think of Julia, and his heart would flip. The worst would be if he was walking between lectures, he would see a swaying figure in the distance with dark black hair. He would feel a sudden urge to see whether the figure itself was Julia and then reprimand himself for his foolishness. Remember what she has done, remember with whom!


    In reality maybe in some strange way he should thank Bob and Julia for if not for their actions he would never have had the impetus to pursue his studies such as he did.


    He also managed to make a friend in the first semesta, a black guy from Nigeria, Nathan Likando. Nathan had spent the majority of his youth in the UK and thought himself more of an Englishman despite his heritage. He was a keen Rugby player, been a swift winger to Joe¡¯s more sedate second row pace and they became fast friends when Nathan took Joe¡¯s legs clean out in a practise session. Joe being no slouch to his formidable centre of gravity at a whopping 16 stone was very impressed and hence a friendship quickly blossomed. It should be said that Nathan weighed only 13 stone and measured 5ft 11 inches.


    Nathan also had a mastery over the ivory keys and as such, they occasionally jammed together, their music tastes being somewhat similar. Nathan was a much better musician than Joe, yet Joe didn¡¯t mind, taking great pleasure in Nathan¡¯s ability to create new and wonderful sounds.


    This duo would often go visit Turf Tavern, a pub that had its own courtyard where they would sit and discuss their most recent lectures or the release of some new music from an obscure artist. It was on such an occasion that Joe and Nathan were fast into their third pint towards the end of November when Joe felt his chest tighten. He had heard a familiar female voice, and that voice turned his face white as a sheet.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter JJ, you look like shit mate? Bad beer?¡± Nathan squinted into his own glass to make sure nothing was amiss, sniffing and shaking his head.


    Joe ignored Nathan and turned his head to find the source of his disquiet. Leaning up against the courtyard wall he saw her. Nathan followed his gaze and his eyebrows raised ¡°cor! What a beauty eh mate!? Shotgun?¡± Nathan winked at Joe who only shook his head in response. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°Let¡¯s leave,¡± he said.


    ¡° Eh? I haven¡¯t finished my pint yet. I''m not like you with money pouring out my ears you know?¡±. Nathan noticed how odd Joe was acting and decided to down his pint. Just as the pair were standing up to vacate their bench, an angelic voice called ¡°Joe?¡±.


    Joe felt his heart shudder, and with a despairing look at Nathan, he turned to face Julia.


    ¡°Hello Julia, fancy seeing you here. We were just leaving I¡¯m afraid. See you around though yeah?¡±


    With that he grabbed at Nathan¡¯s shoulder and made to leave. He felt a soft pressure on his other wrist and stopped.


    ¡°Just give me some time to explain please Joe, you owe me that at least?¡±


    Without turning around Joe replied, ¡°I owe you nothing¡± as he practically ran out of the pub.


    Nathan, who was left flustered as his mate had just scarpered, looked at Julia.


    ¡°What¡¯s that about then?¡±. Julia ignored Nathan and also left the pub.


    ¡ª--


    Back in his halls, Joe sat on his bed staring blankly out of the window. Thoughts were rushing through his mind like a raging river, leaving behind a silt of confusion. Emotions that he had thought long buried had resurfaced and he had acted a fool. He had lost control of what he had hard sought. ¡®Will she plague me forever? Maybe I cannot hide from what must be faced or I''ll be a wreck whenever she is mentioned¡¯, He watched a robin leap from a branch as it swooped in a circle before disappearing behind a rooftop. ¡°Ah if only I could fly away and forget it all!¡± he cried, burying his head into his pillow as he groaned. Finally he resigned himself that if he didn¡¯t see Julia again things should be fine and as he felt his head sink further into the sand, he felt the illusion of relief. ¡®I need to go to the library¡¯ he thought.


    Alas the illusion was soon to break and his sanctuary was soon breached, the defenses as flimsy as his own excuses. For when he made his way to his usual study spot the next day, a familiar face was waiting at his desk. Joe gritted his teeth, unwilling to show fear and lose what little face he had. ¡°What do you want?¡± he asked, placing his newly acquired books upon the desk.


    ¡°I just want to talk. Explain even, I won¡¯t take long, I just feel awful Joe, truly, I didn¡¯t want to hurt you!¡±. Numerous shushing noises were heard from the nearby tables along with some shining gazes. Who would have thought the library would be a great source of drama? To their distress, Joe led Julia away to a private reading room and closed the door. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± he asked, waving his hands in an open fashion.


    Julia laughed enchantingly ¡°this is my library too dummy, or what, do you think you own all of it Mr. Librarian?¡±. Joe was stunned for a moment but he wasn¡¯t thick.


    ¡°Which college?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Queen¡¯s¡±. He nodded his head in understanding.


    ¡°Good for MChem it¡¯s true. So what do you want?¡± he looked her in the eyes for the first time defiantly. Julia faltered for a moment seeing his gaze and then took a breath.


    ¡°Like I said, you¡¯ve never given me a chance to explain, and I have to steal that chance myself¡±.


    ¡°What¡¯s there to explain, you fucked my best mate on my birthday on my parent¡¯s couch¡­ Seems pretty clear cut to me¡± a hint of anger and shame crept into voice raising the pitch slightly. ¡°To think you even have the audacity to try and speak to me after that beggars belief¡±


    Joe made to leave, yet he was stopped once again by Julia¡¯s hand. He made the mistake to look at her face and saw the tears streaming down her face, annoyingly making her look even more enchanting. He felt his heart stir, for no man can stand strong in the face of a crying woman, especially a loved one.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry Joe, I know I can¡¯t give you a reasonable excuse, what we did was beyond bad, it¡­¡± she faltered. ¡°It was very, very cruel to you and I¡¯m more sorry than you can know, but I was very drunk, and Bob¡­¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to know Julia, I¡¯ve moved on, and yes, what you both did is inexcusable¡± he took a deep breath and looked at Julia seriously. ¡°You broke my heart you know, my dad had just passed and yet you not only destroyed our relationship but mine and Bob¡¯s too. I know¡± he said holding up his hand ¡° that Bob is as guilty as you are, but you are the one who hurt me the most¡±. His control had slipped and now tears were falling freely but his sight remained clear.


    ¡°I want nothing to do with you, do you hear? I am a broken man, a shadow of myself but I must carry on and not even you can stop me¡±. And with that he marched out of the room, head high, but his heart as heavy as a stone. Julia stood alone in the middle of the room openly weeping, fists clenched by her side.


    Joe returned to his desk and buried himself into a book, yet he couldn¡¯t find it in himself to focus. He daydreamed about what would have happened if he hadn¡¯t passed out that night, if Bob and Julia hadn''t had the chance to be alone. Then caught himself, knowing that if they were willing to do it then they might have done it another. Still he wished, unwittingly, that things had been different, that Julia and he could still be together here in Oxford pursuing each other as they pursued their dreams. Alas, thoughts are a great betrayer and he shivered. ¡®A rabbit hole I mustn¡¯t delve¡¯ he reprimanded himself, wise enough to know that such thoughts were unhealthy. Shaking his dead to dispel any unwanted thoughts he looked at his book once again. This time an obscure tome on the history of the middle kingdom and their versions of folklore and legends. The immortals, Wu Kong, the Yellow Emperor and his ilk. Ascendance, immortality, pill brewing? Joe lost himself in these intriguing legends, lending his mind to a fantasy to distract.

 Chapter 7

    Time trundled on and finally the first year had ended. Joe had achieved his targets yet it meant little as the first year¡¯s grades didn¡¯t have any true value. It was merely a bridge to cement a solid foundation for second and third year, a tough revision of A levels as it were. He had seen Julia around the campus yet they had little interaction both ignoring each other after the library debacle. Rumour had got around due to the eavesdropping students and now Joe was revered as some heartstuck casanova, and he had now gained some peculiar status as a love guru. He had received quite a few emails on the IntraNet either asking for advice or outright asking him out for a date. Needless to say his spam folder became increasingly full.


    He had decided to return to his Grandparents for the summer to visit Darius who would be starting 6th form in the autumn. He took the stinky diesel first great western down to London Paddington which only took an hour and then the Jubilee line to Canary Wharf, followed by the DLR to Crossharbour. His grandparents had moved there a few years after he was born, having no interest in retirement in the north. Thankfully Joe¡¯s grandads miserly ways had plenty of money put aside and had thus afforded a small flat on the isle of dogs. The neighbours left plenty to be desired, but for Doug and Sandra it was sufficient. Being close to their grandkids was all they wanted.


    In that way, since John''s death, Darius had been adopted by the elderly couple and he had regained a sense of normality. Upon arrival, Joe punched Darius in the arm, stating it was quite likely he would be taller than even he was and asking what position he took in Rugby. Darius good naturedly rubbed his arm and went into spiel about the most recent match and how he ¡®demolished¡¯ the opposition into muddy bloody messes. He was clearly very proud of defeating his rivals, and likewise Joe cheered him on.


    ¡°I suppose we should go visit Mum no?¡± Darius asked Joe.


    ¡°Mmm¡± Joe replied, shifting in his seat. ¡°How was she the last time you visited?¡±


    Darius shrugged. ¡°No change. As you know the doctors did an EEG but it came back inconclusive, or rather, no obvious or overt activity¡± he quoted. Joe nodded as he took his raincoat from the door, mumbling his goodbyes to his grandparents.


    As they trudged their way to the station, wind biting at their exposed faces, Joe asked about Darius¡¯ school life, his relationships and how he had been in general. The boys were close so their conversation was free and easy, taking them all the way to Goodmayes Hospital where the mother was currently held.


    There are certain smells in a hospital that makes one feel uncomfortable. The utter sterility of place, especially one for those suffering from mental ailments seemed to Joe, not conducive to mental recovery. However he was not a professional and kept his thoughts to himself, the only sign was the wrinkling of his nostrils as he crossed the sliding doors. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    His mother was kept in a cosy room that the boys and their grandparents had decorated with their mum¡¯s favourite bits of tat. Despite the families'' every effort the place still seemed foreign to them. All the more foreign for the blank faced women, who had lost all her middle age weight. She was sunken eyed, and lay motionless in bed in the middle of the room. Joe took out Travel with a Donkey in the C¨¦vennes, one of his mother¡¯s favourites and began to read. No response could be seen from Maggie¡¯s somewhat catatonic features but the boys were used to this. Joe continued to read whilst his brother faffed about with his mother¡¯s flower arrangement, stepping back to admire his handy work from time to time.


    In some ways, the boys'' minds eased as they spent their allotted two hours with their mother, despite their mother¡¯s state. It was as if they could see their beautiful mother washing the dishes or softly humming as she annotated a gardener''s almanack in her neat, flowing handwriting.


    The train ride home was a subdued affair, both boys lost in their own thoughts. Joe had a conversation with Maggie¡¯s nurse who had once again indicated no change in their mother from what she could see on a day to day basis.


    As such, the summer passed quickly, with reading, visits to his mother and outings with his grandparents and Darius. He made no attempt to visit his friends nor did he seek out Julia, although he would often find himself staring at her mother¡¯s station on the tube map.


    Towards the end of his holiday, Joe decided to take his bike out for a jaunt, taking the southeastern train to Sandwich where he planned on cycling to Dover for lunch at the White Horse, a freehouse of great renown for ales, gins and food. Then he would proceed up to Canterbury to catch the train back to London. A fairly hilly and ambitious ride but Joe felt like a challenge. It was mid August and the sun blazed high in the sky. 30 degrees C the man on Radio 2 had said, and Joe felt it. He was thankful for the cool sea breeze that drifted in from the east and felt his endorphins hit overdrive. It is true that Kent is really the ¡®garden of England¡¯ he thought to himself, as he raced past rows of hops and bustling hedgerows ripe with birds and wildflowers. He could see the men in the fields harvesting what appeared to be lettuces and carrots. He took a deep breath and smiled. After hauling his way up a steep hill he crested to see Dover harbour and he town spread out beneath him, with the Castle towering to his left. The best part he thought, as he freewheeled his way down the steep hill towards Dover¡¯s old town, the wind tugging at his hair. Unfortunately just as he reached the bottom of the hill, having gained quite the momentum, the lights flashed yellow and Joe applied his brakes. He heard a snapping sound as his rear brake cable tore free forcing him to release his front brake to prevent him flipping over the handlebars head first. Regardless, a car¡¯s bonnet emerged from the hidden junction like a fox from its den. Time slowed down for Joe as the inevitable happened, attempting to steer away from the oblivious car he slammed shoulder first in the ridge of the car¡¯s window, denting it instantly. Like a rag doll, his momentum took him flying over the car, shoulder and right arm flailing behind like a kite streamer. He bounced on the road, head slamming into the pavement, coming to a halt in a crumpled pile outside a Turkish barbers.


    For a moment nobody moved, shocked into inaction, and then finally mobile phones were withdrawn and the services called. Joe was unaware, he had blacked out as soon as his shoulder had been crushed against the car and was floating in oblivion.

 Chapter 8

    It started off with a sensation of slow intermittent throbbing, like an old engine sputtering to life. As the throbbing increased in tempo, flashes of light, like a 70¡¯s disco ball flashed in his eyes. Joe was waking up. Finally the throbbing evened out into the repetitive beat of a heartbeat monitor and the lights coalesced into a straight line. His eyes flickered open and regained focus. His mouth felt dry and slowly, as feeling returned, many aches and pains made themselves known. Dull pains, like they were being held at bay by some hidden guardian, but present nonetheless. Joe attempted to move his head to gain a view of his surroundings but suddenly felt a bout of panic, He couldn¡¯t move! He relaxed and attempted to move his head again, this time gaining some success at the cost of a wave of dizziness. This provoked the ECG that started to beep like an irritating alarm clock. Finally a nurse poked her head around the open doorway to see Joe¡¯s eyes rotating in his skull. Sucking in cold hair, she quickly made her way to his bedside. ¡°Mr. Peters? Joe? Can you hear me?¡± She removed a penlight from her pocket and flashed it in Joe¡¯s eyes, content to see pupil dilation. ¡°Joe, are you awake?¡± she asked again.


    Joe attempted a reply, but his voice came out like a rusty grunt, croaking its way back into action. He cleared his throat with a moan and then replied faintly. ¡°I can hear you¡±.


    The nurse, Nancy Young as it stated on her NHS badge, smiled. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°Like a sack of shit¡± he replied, grimacing and then adding ¡°I mean not good¡± going as far as to blush. Nancy laughed good naturedly ¡°haha I¡¯m sure, and i¡¯m sure you also have lots of questions. Let me see if I can get the Doctor and I¡¯ll return. Press that button by your hands if you need anything desperately¡± she turned to leave and then paused looking back. ¡°You have probably noticed by now, but you have a catheter inserted so don¡¯t move about too much¡±. With that she left as Joe looked towards the centre of his body with a look of bewilderment.


    Half an hour passed and Joe lay there in confusion, attempting to organise his thoughts, ¡®I was cycling¡¯ he thought, ¡®and then the car¡­¡¯. He looked towards his right arm and attempted to move it. There was no response. He looked towards his left as the bedcovers raised slightly; success! His right again, nothing. Joe frowned, and then looked to his left as he saw a white clothed woman approach with Nancy following close behind.


    ¡°Ah glad to see you awake Joe, you had us worried there. I am Doctor Jones and I have supervised your condition since you moved here from intensive care. Hmm ¡°she tapped her pen against her lips. ¡°I¡¯m getting ahead of myself, you were in a serious accident. You suffered some serious injuries to your right shoulder including the tearing of ligaments and nerves, along with absolute dislocation, the breaking of  your right clavicle, 8 shattered ribs and some additional brain trauma from the impact to the ground. Frankly Mr. Peters, you are lucky to be alive!¡±. The doctor looked at Joe with a form of admiration, whether for him personally or the miracle of medical care was known only to her. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Joe stared at the effusive doctor blanky. ¡°So¡­?¡± he asked tentatively.


    The doctor¡¯s expression turned serious whilst Nancy shifted nervously in the background. ¡° There¡¯s no easy way to say this Mr Peters so I''ll cut to the chase. Your right arm is completely paralysed with almost absolute 100% certainty of it staying that way. Your brain has suffered such trauma that the implications will likely be quite severe, including dizziness, loss of memory or even loss of general faculties. You¡±. Here she paused to take a breath expression turning kinder, ¡° you have been comatose for..¡± she looked at Nancy raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°452 days Doctor¡±.


    ¡°Right, 452 days, and as such you are now in the comatose ward here in Margate Hospital¡±. She looked down at Joe to see what response her words were having on her patient. Joe didn¡¯t react immediately, at least outwardly. He ran the blunt doctor¡¯s words back through his sluggish mind. ¡®Paralysed? Comatose? 452 days?¡¯. Finally the muscles in his face started to move. ¡°452 days?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Mhmm, quite a long time indeed. Of course your family has been made aware and¡± she paused again looking at Nancy.


    ¡°His brother Darius and his grandparents are both aware and I took the liberty to call them before I alerted you Doctor¡±. Dr Jones nodded sagely, turning back to Joe. ¡°I¡¯m sure you have many questions, but it is better you take some time to process what I have told you. The nurse will talk you through the stages of rehabilitation as many of your muscles have a certain degree of atrophy. Your family should be here to visit you tomorrow if you feel up to it and I will have an appointment set up next week where we¡¯ll discuss your case in depth and your future steps. Sound good?¡± Joe nodded slightly, and watched the Doctor and nurse walk back through the ward to the hallway.


    One could say that Joe had quite the stoic temperament, similarly as to when his father had died, or when he caught the love of his life in the arms of another, his emotions remained in check. He attempted to break down the situation to realise the implications and maybe stave off despair. No right arm? So I can learn with my left surely? However, the almost year and a half comatose, not to mention how long the possible future recovery will take. Christ on a bike! I can barely move my neck at the moment. What about Oxford, my degree? His heart began to beat faster and faster as panic set in. I was 19 when I crashed, am I 21 now? A wave of dizziness hit his mind and the emotional stress became too much. He passed out.

 Chapter 9

    He awoke the next day to the prodding of his bedclothes, and saw the nurse stripping the bed.


    ¡°Your family is coming at 11 so we decided to give you a wash before they arrive. Don¡¯t worry, I have washed you many times before and I am quite proficient¡± Nancy smiled at Joe who in return blushed crimson. With a laugh Nancy proceeded to scrub Joe like a swaddled infant. Even if Joe wanted to prevent her ministrations he didn¡¯t have the strength to do so, resigning himself to his fate. Eventually the trauma was over and Joe noticed he had some feeling returning to his extremities. Nancy taught him some exercises to repeat on his own daily such as the moving of his toes, the raising of his knees and the like. ¡°You¡¯ll be getting a proper physio who¡¯ll massage you and help you get back on your feet in no time¡± Nancy told Joe as he wriggled his toes. ¡°The important thing is to take it slow. Your body has been through a lot¡± she admonished. Joe nodded absently, slightly distressed after witnessing the pallid state of his body, once the picture of youthful health, now a yellowed mass, like canvas that had been stretched too thin over its frame. The nurse, no stranger to his thoughts quickly added ¡° you¡¯ll be back in tip top form in no time¡± wincing as Joe looked at his right arm.


    ¡°Could be worse¡± he said stoically.


    The nurse laughed, covering Joe¡¯s body in fresh linen ¡°I¡¯ll bring your family in now, make sure they don¡¯t cause too much of a raucous eh?¡± she said, and then added winking ¡° or maybe let them, it might wake the other patients! Wouldn¡¯t that be grand?¡± With that she sauntered out of the ward, more cheerful than any overworked nurse of the NHS should be. Needless to say she left quite an impression on Joe and he felt somewhat uplifted from the gloom that had previously settled.


    Posthaste, his family rushed in, tears in his Nan¡¯s eyes and great wild smiles on his Grandad and brother. And christ, was that his brother? His brother was now a towering 6ft 4 and had the muscles to suit. Like David himself, Joe felt even more self conscious of his weakened state. Darius quickly grabbed his brother''s hand and mumbled some words, followed by whacking his brother in the chest lightly. ¡°Darius!¡± Sandra admonished, clouting darius in his lower back, for that¡¯s all she could reach now. Her face turned back to doting as she looked at Joe. Doug on the other hand was beaming ¡°good to see ya awake lad, gave us a scare there you did¡±.


    Joe could only smile, embarrassed. ¡°Bloody bike eh boy? Told ya to keep it well maintained didn¡¯t I hmm?¡± This time Doug received a clout in his back.


    ¡°Leave the boy alone Doug you great brute, it was a new bike, who could predict that blasted wire would snap, Thank the Gods you were wearing a helmet though Joe, otherwise¡± here her face paled and Doug quickly grabbed her hand. ¡°There, there poppet, looks he''s alright now eh. A little beat up is true but he¡¯s with us. Be right as rain in no time eh boy?¡±


    Joe was truly affected by his Nan¡¯s emotions and quickly affirmed to the positive. ¡®Truly could be worse¡¯ he thought idly watching his loving family.


    An hour went by and finally there was a lull in the conversation. Doug looked at Sandra ¡° come away now dear, we¡¯re not the only ones who came to see him eh?¡± Sandra nodded standing up. ¡°Now, I know how you feel about her JJ, and we know what she did, but she has been looking after you almost every weekend since the accident, so let her talk at least hmm?¡± With that the trio left, after giving Joe¡¯s hand a comforting squeeze. Taking their place at the entrance to the ward was a much thinner Julia, her eyeliner leaving faint streaks down her cheeks. They looked at each other across the room for what seemed an eternity, and finally Julia made her way over.


    She sat down beside Joe¡¯s bed, glancing occasionally between her clasped hands and Joe¡¯s face, looking away quickly as they made eye contact. ¡°I heard you have been here every weekend to see me?¡± Joe finally said. Julia nodded and sighed.


    ¡°I know you probably wouldn¡¯t have let me, but selfishly, I just couldn¡¯t just sit around and do nothing, not after I heard anyway¡±. Her hands twisted and she inspected her nails. ¡°I¡­ I thought you might die and¡­¡± she bit back a sob. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I would have done¡±. She then looked up at Joe, her eyes glistening. ¡°When we, well you know, made love for the first time. I was disappointed, I loved you, I mean I love you and what I had in my mind for our first time made me feel¡­¡± She paused to see if she could read what reaction her words were having on Joe. He however would make poker players feel jealous with his lack of expression. Taking a deep breath, she continued ¡°Anyway, I had some stupid ideas that if the first time wasn¡¯t perfect then it meant we were not to be. I know it¡¯s stupid, but we were 17 and young and I had been brought up with wuthering heights and pretty women. I know it doesn¡¯t justify what I did, and frankly I would stab myself before I would do such a thing again. I¡¯m not trying to justify, I just wanted to say that since then, and when you left for Uni, I realised what a fool I¡¯ve been. I love you Joe, since the first day we sat together in Mr. Watson¡¯s explosive class I''ve loved you.¡± By now tears were falling fast on her bright face. Joe however was silent, yet he couldn¡¯t deny he wasn¡¯t moved. Here he was, a veritable cripple, and a woman he loved was professing her undying love to him. He would have to have been made of granite to feel nothing. ¡°I¡¯m not asking for a second chance, much less. Just let me in your life again, let me be the friend that I should have been¡±.


    Joe swallowed the lump in his throat, finally taking his eyes from the beauty as his side. He wanted to deny her, make her feel the pain that he had felt, the utter rejection and hideous self hatred. Yet he knew, he couldn¡¯t do such a thing, he could no more hurt this woman than he could his own mother.


    ¡°The nurse said I¡¯ll need to do various exercises to recuperate¡± gesturing to his body, ¡°maybe you could help me by getting some book on this subject and helping me recover a bit?¡±


    He looked at Julia and was taken aback by the radiant smile she returned.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Thank you Joe, thank you! You won¡¯t regret this, I promise!¡±


    The day''s excitement had started to take a toll on Joe, and as Julia chatted about how things had changed at Oxford or how the news of Joe¡¯s accident and now recovery had spread like wildfire, Joe slowly drifted off.


    ¡ª--


    The weeks following proceeded quickly from Joe¡¯s point of view. With the repetition of Physio, social visits with various aquaintices and family, and of course Julia¡¯s almost full weekend care. It took him two weeks to get out of bed and walk around freely, a month for his muscles to slowly regain definition, and a full 6 weeks for the doctor to give him a clean bill to return home. He was given an address for a local physio he had to see 4 days a week and various pills. His cognitive faculties were far from recovering, being only able to maintain concentration for a short while on whichever book we attempted. Whilst standing he would get whacked by a bout of dizziness that would almost send him sprawling inducing severe nausea.


    Once again he could claim some compensation due to his faulty bike and used the same cold Mr. Stone to take care of business. Needless to say, money wasn¡¯t really an issue for Joe, especially after he had picked up some of his grandad¡¯s spendthrift habits. He found a local gym where he could train and made an attempt to read through some of his old coursework from Uni. Sadly, to his great despair, he no longer had the ability to focus and eventually gave up, hoping that his faculties would return with time. Besides, he still had to learn to become dependent on his weaker left hand, and relearn to write. This project was by far the hardest he had to undertake, considering his damaged brain and nerves, even writing his name was the stuff of fantasy. Still, he persevered, trained and recuperated and soon 6 months had come to pass. Julia had now graduated Oxford with a first distinction, top of her class and prodigy to boot. Her father¡¯s company Tizer had offered her an extremely good deal when they would pay for her masters and eventual doctorate if she worked part-time at the site in Sandwich. She had of course leapt at the offer, a doctorate in pharmaceuticals costing more than an arm and a leg.


    Still, when she was home to her mothers in Woolwich, she took to spending most of her time with Joe, reading to him or helping him with his exercises. They would take strolls in all the best parks in London, Victoria, St James, Hampton Heath and occasionally up to Alexandra¡¯s palace to watch the snooker. The Rocket, Ronnie O¡¯ Sullivan was making a comeback and to their great pleasure Ronnie scored a 147 in his first round.


    Joe persevered with his reading, yet even a light article was a struggle for him, often becoming dizzy from the focus. Out of losing the use of his right arm, or the loss of rugby and cycling as a pastime, the loss of cognitive function hit him the worst. He had anticipated even if the sky fell, he would still have his wits yet even those deserted him. Yet, he would often look up from his article as he lay basking in the sun in a park, to see Julia sitting demurely, chewing on a lock of hair as she frowned at her own book. Despite himself, he felt happy, finding great pleasure watching her fluctuating emotions play themselves unguarded on her face as she wrestled with whichever novel concept she had discovered. She would feel his gaze up her face, smiling as she looked up.


    Sadly, like all good things, it had to come to an end. Julia returned to Oxford to begin her masters after Joe had waved her off from taking a gap year. She promised she would return as often as she could, but how could a masters at Oxford be simple? Joe decided to move out from his grandparents after Darius secured his half of the inheritance upon turning 18. Initially things started off well, he managed well by himself and with the occasional visits from a nurse to check on his welfare kept him on the straight and narrow. He would find himself eagerly awaiting the next visit from Julia, yet similarly how things had played out in their teens, she visited less and less. Christmas came and went, spent with his grandparents, and the following February Doug was diagnosed with stage 3 lung cancer, a possible effect from mining in his younger years.


    By April he had passed, surrounded by his loved ones. Sandra, a yorkshire woman through and through, cried little and with a sniffle looked down as he disappeared back to whence he came. ¡°Blasted man, selfish enough to leave me alone first, we should have gone together¡±. Joe and Darius held her close, the frail figure disappearing into their embrace.


    Sure enough by June, Sandra also passed away silently in her bed. The doctor said it was a heart attack but the boys knew it was a broken heart. She couldn¡¯t bear to spend time away from her husband of 55 years.


    The brothers sat in the Dragon¡¯s Roar, holding vigil in the two men''s wake neither saying a word. Julia sat next to Joe, holding his hand tenderly. Darius rose to his feet, raised his glass of whiskey ginger beer, their nan¡¯s favourite, tipping some to the floor. ¡°To nan and grandad¡± he intoned, downing the glass with a wince. Joe and Julia followed suit, repeating word for word. ¡°To nan and grandad. For they are finally back together¡±


    ¡ª----


    Darius returned to his University, Durham, where he was taking civil engineering and Julia likewise returned to Oxford leaving Joe alone in Woolwich to take care of his grandparents last will and testament. Mr Stone, now with some white steaks at his temples, was as prompt and efficient as ever, with all concerns completed within a month.


    No one can tell you what you are supposed to do with a couple''s lifetime of possessions, boxes of photographs, nic nacs from here and there, clothes, music collections, even the very cutlery and crockery they had eaten from had to find a new home. Joe had experience with such things and after the brothers had taken the keep sakes they wanted, the rest of it was palmed off to charities and homeless shelters alike. ¡°Waste not want not¡± their Nan would have said, and they too kept this philosophy.


    Joe found himself pouring over the photo albums that he had retained, discovering a couple he did not fully know. A youthful couple stared out at him in full wedding attire. Another photo of Doug at a miner¡¯s march. Yet another photo of them at the village dance. Another life, another world. Joe found it hard initially to match these youthful faces with those he remembered, the white haired old man with the perilous glasses. The smiling woman, whose eyes would always crinkle after a particularly good joke. Yet he could see that they were the same.


    He thought back on his own life, and felt sadness. His own kids, if he ever managed to have them, would never know these wonderful people that were so formative to him and his brother¡¯s life. They would never know their grandfather whose love of rocks and strange foreign food. They would only know their grandmother as an empty vessel, the soul seemingly having fled to safer, greener pastures. And finally, they would only know their father as a one armed invalid, whose mind was as disorderly as a car boot sale. ¡°What am I to do!¡± he cried, as the self pity became unbearable. He poured himself another whiskey and flipped open another album.

 Chapter 10

    It was Christmas once again, the wind howled outside the window bringing the chill from Canada with it. Inside, a trio gathered, one as large as a house, the other, the picture of perfection, glossy black hair reflecting the light of the electric fire and finally, a young looking man who seemed slightly off balance. It was of course Joe, Julia and Darius, gathered for a family Christmas. Julia had spent Christmas Eve with her mothers and now had come to cook Christmas lunch with Darius for Joe. They chatted about their experiences at uni, Darius had got himself a girlfriend, a transfer student from the states and was clearly very pleased with Carla. His chest was puffed out with pride as he spoke of his ¡°gorgeous bird¡± and Joe smiled when he heard of his brother¡¯s antics in pursuing this fine fowle. Julia, who had returned rarely to Woolwich spoke of her difficulties and challenges pursuing her masters whilst simultaneously taking on more responsibility at Tizers. Still she seemed happy. Joe didn¡¯t talk much, he simply didn¡¯t have much to say. His recovery program was almost complete and the physio would shortly be ending, being his responsibility to continue.


    They ate their turkey with lingonberry, drank sherry and opened presents. All in all a joyous Christmas day, and soon Darius and Julia bid goodbye to Joe as they both had their respective plans.


    Joe walked them out, and then returned to the now empty dining room, spotless thanks to Julia. The sherry lay half empty on the counter and he poured himself a glass, sinking down into the sofa, switching the telly on but leaving it on mute. By 9 he had finished the sherry and had moved onto a fresh bottle of whiskey, passing out eventually in front of the telly. This was not the first time and was by no means the last. Joe was actually quite proud it had taken him so long before he began to rely on the drink.


    ¡ª--


    Months turned into years as Darius finally completed his degree with a well earned first. He went to visit his brother upon his return to London as he usually did to find the flat closed with strangers now living there. He inquired after the previous occupant whilst fishing out his own phone to ring Joe. ¡°Hmm, we¡¯ve been living here two months now, place was a right state before we moved in apparently, not sure who it was though, bottles of wine and beer shoved in the strangest places. We¡¯re still finding some you know!¡± Darius looked at the man oddly, with the phone to his ear. No response. This time he rang Julia, but likewise she didn¡¯t respond. Feeling a little worried he decided to call his brother¡¯s former landlord yet the story was the same. The flat was a shithole and the neighbours had started to complain about the smell. Soon after he had asked to clean up to move out, and lo and behold he paid up in full and moved out the same month. ¡°He even left us extra so we could clean so I ain''t too mad, poor fella has been through it to be fair¡±. After finishing the call, Darius tried Joe again, this time not even getting a ring, only the answerphone. He saw however he got a text.


    ¡°Hello Dar, I have decided to move abroad, don¡¯t worry about me. My phone¡¯s gonna be a bit iffy but i¡¯ll keep you updated. I¡¯ll let you know when I''ve settled down mate. Take care.¡±


    Darius forwarded the message onto Julia asking whether she knew about this. A while later she replied that she had received some cryptic text from Joe about moving abroad but wasn¡¯t too sure on the details. She¡¯d ring Darius later when she had finished work.


    ¡ª-


    Of course, Joe hadn¡¯t actually gone abroad, at least not physically. His drinking had got to such a point, that after losing his bankcard in a hotel, he found himself homeless. Without much care for reality and its trappings, he took to relying on charity and his disability benefits that he could collect from the Post office. For him, in his mind a failed intellectual, a broken future, he felt like the messiah reborn with the homeless apostles. Many also had broken pasts from broken homes and were subject to broken peoples abuse. Joe would discuss philosophy with his apostles over a shared 3 pound bottle of wine, profess physical theorems of great magnitude after quaffing a 4 litre bottle of strongbow or teach his willing followers the peculiarities of the square root of -1, his disciples of which would of course followed avidly. That, and the free flowing booze that Joe was never short of. Even when his dedicated apostles robbed his person whenever he passed out from a particularly roaring lecture, he would feign ignorance and traipse back to the post office. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    His mobile phone, along with all other material possessions were long gone, in tandem with his grip on reality. In his rare moments of sobriety, as the film of inebriation withdrew from his eyes, he could laugh to himself bitterly or even cry. Groping for the empty bottle like a child gropes for its toy.


    His hair grew wild, his right arm grew even more mangled, feeling mostly gone and now used more as a pillow than anything else. His once imposing height rounded as he began to slump, his back becoming more like that of an old mans.


    Night after night he spent on the street, and slowly he was forgotten. His brother of course inquired after Joe, but which country was he in, who could he ask? Likewise with Julia, they finally resigned themselves to the fact he couldn¡¯t do anything that dramatic surely. In reality, it is even possible they had unknowingly walked past Joe slumped in a doorway, maybe even having placed money in the ever present cup by his side.


    Joe not only faced the elements whilst on the street, he had to deal with the petty theft of his fellow homeless. He had to deal with the injustice of the Police, shoving him from one doorway to another. On numerous occasions he ended up behind bars for being drunk and disorderly, but under a name that was not his own. Still, what could society do but eventually kick the man back out onto the street, black bin bag of meagre possessions in hand.


    One time some social worker took pity on Joe and attempted to bring him back to a semblance of normality. Joe was not interested in these distractions and soon returned to the streets, a sucker for punishment.


    It had been 4 years that Joe had been on the streets and one could tell. There was no longer any healthy colour to his face, his hair and beard was matted and greasy, and a yellowish colour had taken to his eyes.


    It was January and one of the coldest months England had seen on record. Snow coated the ground like icing on a cake. The homeless population had no choice but to retreat to the old abandoned tunnels beneath London, usually avoided due to the darkness and the rats. Joe was amongst the crowd as they had retreated beneath the streets deep into the bowels of old London. With him was his usual acquaintance, Todd. Todd and Joe drank often together beneath the bridges of London, and Todd, having found Joe a ready source of cash, became a parasite disguised as a friend. Joe may or may not have realised this fact, yet he cared little.


    Within their stained clothes both Todd and Joe had a few bottles of cheap whiskey which had been stolen from the back of a lorry at the local market. With their goods hidden, and ready for their retreat underground, they went further down the tunnels to escape the eyes of their fellow down and outs. What was held under their clothes was essentially gold to their fellows and so they were sure to be robbed if found out, especially deep under London away from the law. Todd and Joe found an abandoned narrow tunnel to settle down in. A few days went by and finally Todd left to seek entertainment elsewhere, since he had finished his own rations. Joe, unaware that his companion had left, continued to mumble into the darkness, his thoughts blurry and elsewhere.


    A day later Todd returned, but not alone. Besides him stood two other acquaintances he had spent time with him within her majesty''s prison Wormwood Scrubs. ¡°There he is lads, I¡¯m certain he has a few bottles hidden on his person, some cash too¡± Todd oozed rubbing his hands like Fagin. Joe was a little more aware on this day, and considering it would be difficult to find more booze deep underground he wasn¡¯t happy to let his own rations go without at least a semblance of resistance. Alas, reality is cruel, and he stood no chance against the three men, especially after taking a shiv to his gut. ¡°What the hell guy, you don¡¯t kill the golden goose you fool!¡± Todd roared noticing his fellows actions.


    He stood back and thought about the situation for a moment. ¡°Looks like he¡¯s had it lads, it would be best if we hid his body, don¡¯t fancy spending more time behind the door do ya?¡± he looked at his henchman meaningfully. Lance, the smaller of the henchmen, was more familiar with this underground area and mentioned he knew a place, ¡®proper hidden away like¡¯.


    After relieving Joe, who had passed out on the floor, of his few possessions; a half bottle of whiskey and 40 pounds in notes stuffed in his shoe, the trio pulled his body down a series of tunnels under Lance''s direction. Deeper and deeper they seemed to go. ¡°Bloody hell Lance, we ain¡¯t taking him to Narnia to know!¡± Todd complained.


    ¡°It¡¯s just down this tunnel here, there¡¯s a wide pit in that open during that quake a few years back. Throw him down there and it is guaranteed they ain¡¯t finding him until he¡¯s rat shit¡± he said, smiling a toothless grin. And like that, Joe, once on a scholarship at Oxford, a rising star, was unceremoniously cast into the bottomless pit, the only witnesses already arguing over his final material possessions, forgotten.

 Chapter 11

    He lay his shuddering, bleeding form against the cold, flat stone, each breath haggard. Too tired for even register the pain. Too tired to notice to sounds of his failing breath. Too tired to witness his vision turning bloody. Too tired to bother about the emptiness that gnawed at him.


    His lifeblood, leaving his body more slowly now as the pressure waned, soaked into the dirt and rocks like some demonic mortar. The flat stone behind his back almost seemed to suck at his blood and tissues as if an ancient vacuum was finally being filled.


    His brain meandered, thoughts of people long forgotten, places long left, feelings remembered. He was dying and he knew it. Alone, in a hole, forgotten. Would people even know? He chuckled and winced, spitting black blood at his feet. Self reprisals at the end, weakness. Would he have done something different? Would he do something different, even if by some abstract miracle he was rescued? Hatred rose with bile in his throat, wanting to scream but not having the strength. Weakness. Always, weakness. Yet memories rose unbidden almost as if to counter his final desperate thoughts. Memories of light, of his father in his dusty study peering at mishapen rocks, of his stupid brother pulling a face. The flowing black hair of a lover long gone, secret whispers of experiences past. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Then more pain, or really a different pain, deeper, numbing the agony in his physical body. Now a different memory, one that felt different to the others. One of wind, of heat, of mountains and valleys, one of life itself. A figure standing amongst the towering, impossibly tall, trees. His face shimmering, yet even so, a feeling of warmth.


    ¡°Who is he?¡± he murmured, the tendrils of darkness finally taking hold.


    *End of Part 1*

 Chapter 12

    *Part 2*


    It is fair to say that Joe did not expect to regain consciousness once more. Not only had he sustained a fatal wound to his stomach from the filthy shiv, but the fall from a great height in the pit had broken many bones and shredded his skin like yesterday¡¯s newspaper. Opening his eyes did little to change the situation yet it helped stabilise his sodden mind. For the first time in many years his mind was clear, despite the agonising pain, the aches all over his body. Joe paused at that thought, ¡®all over my body?¡¯. He caught his breath as poked his right arm with his finger. He winced, but poked again. ¡°What the fuck¡± he exclaimed outloud. Laughing a little crazily, Joe shook his head and then decided to take stock of his situation.


    He was deep underground god knows where, without food or water, yet he was alive. Gods be praised, it¡¯s a miracle, by all rights he should be a corpse providing food for whatever scratched the stones in the darkness. He felt around with his left hand, touching the wound at his stomach. Oddly, there seemed to be little pain. Sniffing, he realised he was surrounded by a truly foul odour. Not just his usual stench of urine and feces but a stronger even putrid smell, like rotten eggs, sulfuric almost. He sniffed his armpits and almost passed out again. Christ! The smell was coming from him, rotten eggs, stale alcohol, piss and sweat. He idly considered whether they¡¯d accept him into the Ritz in such a state.


    What really surprised him however, apart from being alive of course, was his ability to think, the clarity of his mind. It was true when one had faced death squarely, one¡¯s mindset would go through a dramatic change. And if Joe hadn¡¯t faced death then the Gods know who has. His somewhat cheerful mood was damped as he remembered his current predicament. Lost and injured in the dark. He lent back against the stone he had woken up against and noticed that there was no pain in his back, just a peculiar tingling. In fact as he considered his internal condition he realised something supremely odd. Within his stomach, almost exactly where he had been stabbed he could feel a sense of power. That¡¯s not right, warmth maybe, or is it coolness? He thought. Momentarily distracted by this novel feeling he scratched his right leg, causing dried blood to fall away. He paused again, he had just scratched his leg with his right arm.


    A scientist at heart, Joe took to deducing and analysing the evidence before him to avoid jumping the gun on any conclusions. First question; am I actually awake? He pinched himself, quoted Descartes, and then ran a Turin test for good measure. Axiom 1 ¡°I am awake¡±. Second question, why am I alive? This time his reason ran out. Hmm, fuck. He thought back to the last things he remembered. Thoughts of his loved ones ran through his mind, and the anger he had felt for Todd before being stabbed. ¡°Bastard¡± Joe mouthed. Finally a clearer memory once again appeared in his mind¡¯s eye. That of mountains and the figure beneath the trees. ¡°Is it related?¡± he queried. As he thought back on the memory he suddenly found he could control the memory to a certain extent, like a lucid dream. He approached the black clad man beneath the towering trees who smiled as Joe approached.


    ¡°Welcome my dear disciple¡± the man said, opening his arms in welcome. The black clothes turned out to be silken robes and they lent quite the effect to the man''s movements.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    ¡°Odin?¡± Joe asked, at this point hoping for the best. The man offered no response, simply returning his arms to his chest as he stroked his curly black beard.


    ¡°Unfortunately for you, fated one, I am just an imprint of a soul that your blood has awoken from the memory stone, so you may not ask any questions¡± the man continued on. ¡°I have limited time to pass my inheritance to you, fated one, and sadly the inheritance I have to pass is only incomplete for it is how I found it¡± at this the black clad man looked ashamed. ¡° I am the last of my kind, at least on this planet. Before our predecessors left, I was tasked in guarding our planet as the last, guarding the inheritances and legacies our forefathers had left behind before they ascended. ¡° He looked up into the sky, looking past the trees and almost seemingly past the sky itself. ¡°Unfortunately I was unfit for the task, and whilst I was concocting a pill I injured myself gravely in a backfire¡± The man looked back down towards Joe, smiling awkwardly. ¡°I was never much of a pillsmith you know, but damn was I interested; the source of my own downfall¡±. An illusory small round ball appeared in his hand as he spoke which then just as promptly disappeared. ¡°Hopefully my ancestors will remain ignorant of the course of my death¡± he said looking at Joe meaningfully. ¡°That being said, my name is Augustus Levi, and I hope you are willing to take me as your master, post mortem as it were?¡± Augustus chuckled at his own joke and then continued ¡° I will pass onto you all my knowledge of what the Ancestors left behind, the true Ancestors, that is, the founders of our planet. It isn¡¯t much I¡¯m afraid, but it should help you if you choose to pursue the footsteps of the Ancestors like I myself attempted¡± the man sucked in a deep breath ¡°and failed. Know that you are the last of us, the true Last Immortal, and ¡° he paused meaningfully ¡° you must understand the responsibility you now are burdened with, the responsibilities of the Ultimum.¡±


    Joe¡¯s memory began to falter and Augustus began to appear even more illusory. ¡°I will now pass everything onto you. The memory stone would have cleansed your body and possibly even helped you pass the first stage. Within the stone you should find a vial containing a solution. Of course, who knows how many millenia have passed since I died, or whether you will even be able to imbibe the vial¡± the man laughed. Along with the vial I pass you what I hold most dear, my knowledge of pillsmithing¡±. ¡°Good luck to you, Ad vitam aeternam, may we meet once more on the path.¡± With that, Joe¡¯s memory faded, yet as he relaxed a headache struck him as the stone behind him warmed. He groaned. It was like having a million brain freezes at once. He shook his head as his vision swam, foreign images blinking in and out. Finally the pain settled and his vision returned to the inky black that he had become accustomed to. He felt like he suddenly had a deeper understanding of something mysterious, like the feeling one has when a word is on the tip of your tongue. You know the word is there and yet it evades you. However hard Joe tried, he couldn¡¯t access this ¡®knowledge¡¯ but he felt like he knew it was there. Not very scientific he thought but jeez, who cares? I''m dying in a hole, why should I not invest in my brain¡¯s wild fantasies?


    With that he shifted his sore but somehow functional body away from the warm stone, the memory stone as Augustus had intimated. ¡°Vial within hmm?¡± he touched the stone with his forefinger, going with touch rather than sight. The stone rumbled and then crumbled into dust exposing a faint light behind where it had once stood. In the middle of the dust was a crockery container, a small clay amphora. More entranced by the glimmer of light than anything, Joe pocketed the miniature amphora and began crawling towards the light.

 Chapter 13

    Surrounding Joe, as he exited the crevice, was a wall of bioluminescent fungi, which coated everything Joe saw with an eerie green glow. Joe, who was still under the influence of the strange happenings of the last day, stood in the middle of the open area, hands on his hips and screamed towards the cavern¡¯s roof. ¡°Fuuuuuck me!¡±


    Joe was elated. He was alive, all of his body worked, and even the fuzz on his brain since his accident had been shorn. To draw parallel from the man of myth himself, Joe had emerged from the cave with the stone of memories reborn. Of course at the moment he didn¡¯t quite look like how he felt. A bag of bones, stinking remnants of vestments hanging from his body like old bin bags in a tree. His features, green and cavernous, festooned with a filthy beard, gave him the impression of some bog creature risen from the muddy deep. Needless to say, he needed a bath and a meal pronto.


    Joe looked around, seeing three exits from the green cavern including the crevice from whence he came. He remembered one of Gandalf¡¯s lines and took a deep breath, gagging immediately. ¡®Hmm it¡¯s likely Gandalf didn¡¯t smell like a rubbish truck¡¯ he thought to himself. Instead Joe decided to choose a route at random, shuffling his way through the gloom. Exiting the green cavern Joe came to yet another sprawling mass of rocks and debris, with the fungi once again lighting his way. Hauling his gaunt frame over the rubble with surprising dexterity he made it to the other side, to find what seemed to be a breach into a man made tunnel. The bricks were slimy with moisture yet with great tenacity retained the tunnel''s shape. To the right of the breach was more rubble piled to the ceiling and hence inaccessible, the left was clear.


    He proceeded up the tunnel with the light becoming increasingly dim until once again, he was enshrouded in darkness. Still, with no physical obstruction, he struggled on, his left hand slipping along the moist wall for guidance. After what seemed like an age had passed, Joe¡¯s hand struck something foreign, something hard and cold. He groped around the area and found similar protrusions, realising with joy he had found a rusty ladder. He held what seemed to be a rung and slowly let his weight descend. No movement, not even a creak. Breath held, he reached above the solid rung and found yet another. His heart began to beat faster and slowly, he began to climb. After a moment, Joe found himself suspended in the darkness, his bare feet resting against their own respective rungs, as his hand groped above him finding the ladder had no more rungs to give. He flailed his arm, searching for anything, but all he found was empty air, somewhat foetid as he buffeted it around him. He had an idea and placed one arm in front of him perpendicular to his shoulders and tapped down. Poof! A burst of dry dust erupted under his palm and hit his face, causing him to splutter. Inspired, despite the coating, he pushed his way up and rolled his body onto the dusty surface. He took a moment to lie on the ground, exhausted. It was only recently that he had practically died and his body was beginning to reach its limits, despite his new found inner fire. Taking a dust laden breath, Joe took to his knees, and then tentatively to his feet, wincing at his tall figure crown struck the roof of the space he was in. Knowing if he walked in the wrong direction it''s quite likely he would fall down the shaft from whence he had come, he shuffled his feet forward, grasping at the sides of the small space for added security. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Alone in the dark he shuffled, the only company to his invisible parade, the motes of dust he kicked up behind him. Joe was happy however, this was progress, he was going up, and it was getting drier. His only concern was that he would walk past the exit in the dark unknowingly, forever to be trapped beneath London like a banshee of yore. Luck was again on his side, for this time it was his hearing that saved him. Directly in front of him he heard it, the herald of freedom and humanity. It was the telltale rattle of the underground. Following the sound a cooling breeze hit his face carrying the scent of oil and atmosphere. He was close. Pushing forward with greater haste as his excitement took over, stumbling occasionally, he made his way through the tunnel. His efforts were rewarded for he began to see the pale outlines of his foreground, from whence a light glow illuminated the walls. Picking up his speed now he could see where he was going, he made it to the exit in short time and found himself facing two sets of parallel tracks. He leant back against the wall, sliding down into a squat position, covering his face with his hand. He began to laugh into his hands, at first softly, then maniacal, and finally a profound sob.

 Chapter 14

    After a while, Joe looked up, eyes clear, electric even and took to his feet unsteadily. From now on it should be easy because above his head was a green box with an arrow, saying bluntly, exit. Joe happily followed the box¡¯s instructions and made his way as the arrow directed until he came upon a door set into the tunnel''s wall. He pushed against the door¡¯s emergency exit mechanism, to find himself in a dim lit corridor. Experienced as he was from his homeless days, he pushed on until he found a flight of stairs leading upwards. He groaned slightly as he saw the steps, gritted his teeth and began to climb.


    He reached the top landing breathless, hanging onto the handrail for support, and chuckled as he coughed. ¡° No time like the present to give up drinking I reckon¡±. Taking another deep breath, whilst shuddering slightly, he exited the stair through a set of double doors. He found himself in another dusty room, chairs and tables stacked haphazardly in the corners, which left enough space to access the doors at the far end. Pushing open this door, Joe was hit by a wave of cold, wet air, heavy with pollution. Joe sucked this deep down into his lungs like a half drowned man, laughing as he did so. The rain hit his face in heavy splotches, disturbing the layers of dirt that plastered it.


    Joe paused on the street he found himself upon to consider his next move. He looked at his body in the full window opposite and finally recognised the state he was in. Finding his appearance hilarious Joe laughed out loud. ¡®So, first things first, I need money. I need an ID to get a new bankcard and to get my ID I''ll need my birth certificate.¡¯ He tapped his fingers against his greasy beard for a moment. ¡®Darius it is then¡¯.


    All other thoughts forgotten, except perhaps the gnawing hunger he held in check, he made his way to a telephone booth. ¡®Hopefully he still has the same mobile number¡¯. After begging for a moment outside the booth he secured himself a pound coin from a passer by, who so taken aback from Joe¡¯s frightening appearance, almost handed Joe his whole wallet. Joe took the coin and dialled the number, excitement boiling.


    *Ring ring* *Ring ring*


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Hello Dar¡±


    ¡°J..Joe?. Is that you?¡±


    ¡°Yessir, listen mate, I know it¡¯s been a while but I need your help¡±


    ¡°Christ Joe, we thought you were dead! Of course I¡¯ll help, what do you need¡±


    ¡°Aha, nope alive and kicking bro. I need a shower, a fresh change of clothes and most importantly, a bloody knockout meal! Are you in London?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, on my billsome in Peckham, can you make it over?¡±


    ¡°Erm, might be better if you come out here and book me a room for a bit mate, not gonna lie, I smell worse than I look, and I look something terrible!¡±


    ¡°Err, yeah alright I guess, where are you at? I¡¯ll take a cab¡±


    ¡°The corner of Axminster road and Seven sisters¡±


    ¡°Righto, should see you in an hour or so¡±


    ¡°Great, see you inabit mate¡±. Joe hung up the phone, poking around for change out of habit.


    Soon the hour had passed and Darius was standing looking down at his brother. At least he was pretty sure that the familiar voice that had called him came from within the stinking bird nest in front of him was his brother. ¡°Joe?¡±


    ¡°Mhmm, fancy a hug younger brother?¡±


    ¡°You can fuck right off. Why do you look like Fagin¡¯s left armpit and smell even worse?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Long story mate, better if I get cleaned up first though eh? Should have asked you to bring a shaver¡± Darius shook his head, and then took the lead, upwind, towards a 1 star grovel he looked up on the way over. ¡°I¡¯ll go in first, book the room, and then you go in after yeah? I¡¯ll distract the person at the desk so you can make your way to your room. Then I¡¯ll pop out to buy you some clothes yeah? I think they have a scarecrow outfitters somewhere¡± Darius laughed looking back.


    ¡°Hargh hargh, very funny. Sounds good, mind getting me a burger or something before you go? I haven¡¯t eaten in what feels like years¡±


    ¡°No problem JJ¡±


    ¡ª------


    Standing beneath the powerful shower, as it washed away years of dirt and grime, blood and piss, Joe thought about his last few years of life, feeling the burden he had carried, hefted away through the drain at the same time. He looked down at his bony body and felt a sense of detachment. How had this weakened body survived? Where is the wound in my stomach? Why does my arm still work? All these questions and more ran through his brain, as he watched the grey brownish whirlpool beneath his feet spin and spin. The events with the man from his memories felt even more unreal now he was back on the surface, yet he could sense, what the mysterious man had offered was truly the only answer to the puzzle he now faced.


    Rationally, or rather scientifically, what had happened to Joe was impossible. The chances of survival, not even the stabbing or the fall from a great height, but the heavy alcoholism and street living would give his chances of survival at being less than nil. Yet here he was, breathing, almost healthy compared to what he was just a weak prior, with a fresh meal digesting within him. He lifted his right arm above his head and down again, paying great attention to his movements. No sign of dislocation, disuse, or even scars. Yes, he was a yellowed bony husk, but functioning. He was sure after some good eating and frequent exercise he could return to his former physique in short order.


    Joe shook his head, deciding to move onto more understandable matters, and stepped out of the shower. Donning the hotel robe, he went to sit on the bed to wait for his brother¡¯s eventual return. Whilst he waited he flicked on the telly, for it had been a fair few years since he had paid attention to current events. Catching the end of the 5 o''clock news, the news anchor spoke of an accident that had occurred overseas in Sweden. 15 people were reported dead according to the company¡¯s spokesperson. ¡°Black Rock will be doing everything it can to help the families of those affected and we¡¯ll be carrying out a full investigation into why this accident occurred. We promise you that we at Black Rock will get to the bottom of this matter for the sake of the deceased families¡± Joe looked up and felt a memory jolt in his head. ¡®Black Rock. Isn¡¯t the company that Dad¡­¡¯ his thoughts were interrupted when Darius walked in, carrying various bags. ¡°Alright I got you an assortment as I wasn¡¯t too sure of your size¡± he looked over at Joe, seeing the ball of hair sticking up out of the white dressing gown. ¡°I think I saw a barbers just down the road too¡±.


    ¡°Good stuff, I¡¯ll get dressed and then we can go to the barbers eh? I¡¯m sure you have some questions too¡± Joe said, grabbing some shirts and pants to try.


    ¡°Mmm, no rush mate, just glad to see you alive.¡± He took out a pack of smokes as he walked out the door ¡°I¡¯ll wait for you outside¡±


    Shortly after, Joe found himself lying back in a leather chair whilst the barber, Sharif, was poking Joe¡¯s hair with a comb. ¡°So what do you want sir? Little off the top?¡± He laughed at his own joke and then started yelling at his colleague in Turkish. Joe, unperturbed, shut his eyes, and felt himself relax. A man¡¯s barbers was his second home, and even as the stranger waved around the deadly razor near his neck, his heartbeat would remain steady. Soon Joe¡¯s brown hair was falling in clumps to the floor and his face slowly emerged like a man escaping a hedgerow.


    Darius asked some questions of Joe as he watched Sharif¡¯s expert ministrations. ¡°So where have you been bro? I take it you weren¡¯t actually abroad as you led us to believe?¡± Joe had the good sense to look guilty even if his eyes were shut and responded in kind.


    ¡°Yeah sorry mate, I found that after I lost my ability to study, it really was the last straw you know. I began to drink more and more to numb the pain and finally, I found myself on the streets. I just didn¡¯t care, you know, in some ways it was simpler on the street. No responsibilities you know, only the next drink, the next shelter¡±. More and more of his hair fell beneath his chair, swept up by the trainee barber promptly.


    ¡°You could have come to me, you know JJ? I would have helped¡±


    ¡°Yeah I know mate, kinda just had to do it my own way you know? Wallow in my shit and that¡±


    ¡°Haha well you definitely did that literally and figuratively. I haven¡¯t smelled anything worse since we both had that dodgy chinese. Literally mate, you could have given sewage plants a run for their money¡±


    ¡°Haha alright alright, I¡¯m clean now aren''t I. I tell you, it was bloody hard to wash all of the grime off too. It was like tar!¡± Joe thought back on his recent shower and shivered. It really had been peculiar, he felt like he was cleaning away a lifetime of grime, not just a few years. It¡¯s not like he hadn¡¯t had a wash with the help of charities in the intervening years. Sharif lifted Joe¡¯s chin to begin his attack on his beard so Joe was forced to stop talking.

 Chapter 15

    Lying in bed that night at his brother¡¯s flat, Joe reviewed everything that had happened since his stabbing, looking for any sort of sense or clues from what he remembered. Whilst he was distracted he found himself remembering the news piece he had heard earlier on the Black Rock deaths. He took out his new phone and looked up the news pieces out of idle curiosity. 15 confirmed dead at a dormant volcano in Sweden. The reason stated by the company was that a shaft had collapsed after a slight tremor in the earth¡¯s crust. Joe read deeper and found that only one of the reporters had mentioned that it was not the first time an accident had occurred. In fact, according to the author Mary McQuairn, there had been 4 separate instances of deaths relating to Black Rock.


    Joe thought about his old man, and about the man who approached him at the funeral from Black Rock itself and how rude he had been. ¡®I wonder if there is anything about it in my old man¡¯s diary¡¯ Joe contemplated, realising that he had yet to even open the thing. Getting out of bed, he went to his brother¡¯s sitting room where Darius had placed boxes of Joe¡¯s stuff he had taken out of storage. Shifting through the various pieces of junk and old letters, Joe finally found his dads diary. He sat down on the sofa after pouring himself a glass of water and began to read.


    March 18th


    Site D Black Rock


    The overseer flew me in again this morning, we wanted a reconfirmation that the place they were digging in was virgin territory. I don¡¯t know why they attach such importance to whether its been touched before or not, I mean who could have been there before them anyway? I took a carbon sample of the most recent dig and should get the results from the lab within the fortnight. In some ways I''m lucky, some of the earth they¡¯re uncovering truly is fascinating, the pressures and the movement of land truly leads to some interesting finds. I don¡¯t expect them to find oil here though, there really isn''t another surface feature or soil to indicate a body of water once stood here. Still, it¡¯s possible there might be something deeper, considering how active the volcanoes have been here. I recently pulled a fossil out¡­


    The entry went on in the same vein so Joe skipped ahead a few pages.


    May 1st


    Site F Black Rock


    They moved us all from Site E without warning last night, something about a legal challenge was the rumour in the camp. I didn¡¯t think we¡¯d find anything there anyway, even the deeper soil was all wrong. This is the first time we¡¯ve come to this site and it¡¯s certainly different. Today we explored the preliminary entrance and it was a vast grotto! Truly impressive stalactites and mites, and you could see various entrances and exits all over. I wonder whether the river that dug this tavern still exists deep underground? It¡¯s unlikely we¡¯ll find oil here however, unless they think there was a truly ancient sea here once. I have noticed a pattern that only a few of the sites truly have the signs potentially having oil, although I don¡¯t know by what criteria they are choosing the others. Not that I care too much, the pay is good and I have plenty of time to spend with boys during the year. I called Maggie earlier to let her know I''d be home in 2 weeks, I wonder what I should get her, maybe some¡­


    Joe quickly moved on from that passage, there were only so many inner thoughts of one''s deceased parent one could bare, especially amorous ones. He skipped a few more pages until he reached the last few pages. He took a deep breath and began to read.


    August 10th


    Site F Black Rock


    We¡¯ve returned to Site F. Apparently they had been digging deeper and had found some abnormalities in rock and they wanted us to take a look. I am unusually excited as apparently they¡¯ve managed to dig almost 1000 ft down in the last few months, I can only hope we find some fossils down there or even some full skeletons. It has been a while since we pulled up a dinosaur. The security here has become extremely overboard; however, I''ve had my pass checked at least 10 times today and that was just to get back to my tent. I wonder if they think there are diamonds down there or something, really quite curious. Not that diamonds are anything special mind you, give me some diorite anyday, ooh or some obsidian. With the size of the grotto it¡¯s quite possible there are cave paintings deep in the recesses. I wonder if they¡¯ll let me explore tomorrow.


    August 11th


    Site F Black Rock


    Well today was a bust, apparently they discovered a gas pocket and the whole site was put on lock down whilst they pump it out. Well, safety first I guess.


    August 18th


    Site F Black Rock


    We¡¯re finally going down tomorrow, I got to see some pictures of the rock they had taken in the depths and it¡¯s manmade! And it¡¯s not even from this area, looking more like rock from the dolomites. How did the rock make it here? Tectonic shift? Was it carried on a subterranean lava flow all the way from Italy? An ancient ruin? Aha whatever it is I will find out more tomorrow, enough speculation for now.


    Joe closed his father¡¯s diary after checking that there was nothing else in the last pages. He sat there, lost in thought. He knew that August 22nd was the day his dad died. What did they discover down there, did he really die to fall in like they said? What happened in the intervening 3 days? Questions with no answers. He shut off the light and returned to bed. ¡°There¡¯s definitely something odd about Black Rock, however I think about it. I think I need to visit this Site F he refers to, but how?This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The next morning, Joe sat down to a full English at the local cafe with Darius, ordering the mega gut buster special and two cups of tea. Darius followed suit with the exact same order causing the waitress to slightly raise her eyebrows. Not because of the hulking Darius of course, such a meal was a light snack, but for the lanky skeleton like Joe. The men didn¡¯t pay any heed to the girl and they got down to business. ¡°So I finally went through dad''s diary last night, and I think I¡¯ve found something. You¡¯ve seen how Black Rock has been in the news again recently yeah? I reckon the deaths might be related¡± They leaned back from the table as their mugs of tea were placed in front of them. Darius ripped open a packet of brown sugar with his teeth and replied whilst stirring ¡°First of all. You managed to read. Like you read without any issues?¡±


    Joe smiled mysteriously ¡°Yeah, and that¡¯s not all, havent you noticed?¡± He picked a pack of brown sugar with his right hand and repeated his brother¡¯s actions. Darius¡¯ mouth had actually physically opened. ¡°What the fuck Joe, your arm?¡± He lent across and felt his brother¡¯s bicep. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me the hard life of being a bum has actually healed what the doctors said was permanently damaged? You¡¯ve got to write to the paper or something mate, it¡¯s a bloody miracle¡±


    ¡°Er no, fuck that, can you imagine, a bunch of holier than thou types running around kissing my arm and shit. No thanks. Anyway my arm and my brain are a long story. Just know, I had a nasty accident and when I woke up, I was healed. What was the second thing?¡± He asked, sipping at his steaming tea.


    ¡°Er right..¡± Darius said, clearly not happy about giving up the subject of the miracle arm ¡°Second thing, why do you think the deaths are related?¡±


    ¡°Call it a hunch Dar, I was reading this¡­¡± he pulled up an article on his phone ¡°...this Mary implies that there have been a series of deaths at Black Rock over the years yet whenever they¡¯ve been prosecuted, they¡¯ve either settled out of court or the plaintiff¡¯s have mysteriously disappeared!¡± Joe raised his arms in the air for added effect, and then waved a piece of toast in his brother¡¯s nose. ¡° I think we should contact this Mary woman and find out what she knows. Maybe she knows where this Site F is¡± finally chewing on the piece of toast as if to cement his point.


    Darius wriggled his eyebrows, clearly debating something internally. Thankfully he had time as their platters of food finally arrived. The girl had to bring each plate over one at a time as they were so heavily laden. The brother¡¯s didn¡¯t speak again until they had both polished off the mega gut buster special, lying back in the seats and burping happily. ¡°Fuck, I needed that¡± Joe groaned, arms behind his head. Darius burped and then pulled out his tobacco as he began to roll. ¡°So how do we contact this Mary lass then? I presume she has an email address above the article or something?¡±


    ¡°Well I looked up her paper and apparently the office is just round the corner. I thought we could pop round now and see if she¡¯s about for a meeting. You¡¯re not busy are you?¡±


    ¡°Naa mate, I¡¯ll give you a hand, keep you out of trouble and that¡±. Joe looked up at his younger brother who was wiping away the ketchup from his beard. ¡°You know I won¡¯t be drinking again, not like that. Never again Dar, I promise you¡±


    ¡°I know JJ, can¡¯t blame me though can you? ¡° He looked Joe over, debating something internally. ¡°What about Julia?¡±


    Joe shook his head as he got up.¡±Julia will have to wait mate, still don¡¯t think I have a good grasp on that yet.¡± he patted his pockets. ¡°The breakfasts on you anyway, I¡¯ve gotta go get my photo taken for a passport first. Then after we post my passport application we can grab a cab to Mary¡¯s office alright?¡±.


    Not long after, the brothers were standing side by side outside of a dingy looking office in Barking. Darius, despite only being two inches taller than Joe made Joe look like a broom had been dressed as a human in comparison. Joe, unconscious of this difference, opened the door to the building and made his way to the front desk where a young woman was cleaning her nails whilst chewing gum. ¡°Can I help you?¡± she asked without looking up.


    ¡°Yes, we¡¯d like to meet Mary McQuairn please¡± Joe asked.


    ¡°Do you have an appointment?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Why do you want to see her?¡±


    ¡°We believe we have a mutual interest in the articles she¡¯s writing and believe we have something that might help her¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll ring up to her office, please sit over there¡± the secretary waved in a vague direction and then continued to clean her nails. Darius and Joe on the other hand, dutifully sat down on the grubby chairs that lined the walls.


    Darius leaned over to Joe and whispered in his ear ¡°Not exactly the FT is it bro? You sure this Mary is up to snuff?¡± Joe shrugged.


    ¡°Not like we have a choice is it?¡±


    After 20 minutes or so, the brothers were starting to become impatient. Finally the door at the end of the hall opened and a pair of stockinged legs stepped through. The brother¡¯s eyes lifted from the shapely legs, past the curvaceous skirt stopping more than was proper, and then finally past the partially opened blouse to find the frowning face before them. ¡°Done gawking¡± the face said, folding her arms. This had the opposite of the intended effect, putting more pressure on her boobs, which the brothers did not fail to notice. Joe coughed, averting his eyes and held out his hand. ¡°My name is Joe Peters and this is my brother, Darius Peters. I happened to read your article last night. My father used to work for Black Rock and he died on their premises a few years ago¡± Mary ignored his proffered hand. ¡°So?¡± she asked, looking bored.


    ¡°So, we thought we might have some information that you might be able to use and then maybe you can help us out in turn¡± Joe replied looking slightly flustered.


    ¡°Oh?¡± she said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°And what do you think I could help you with?¡±


    ¡°Well, we have learned that our father, John Peters, died at Site F, and we hoped you might know where in Sweden that might be¡±


    ¡°Site F, did you say?¡± Mary said, finally looking serious. She scratched the back of her head, looked the brothers up and down and then said ¡°you¡¯d better come to my office¡±.

 Chapter 16

    Mary¡¯s office was a juxtaposition to the dinginess of the exterior, being light and airy. Plants arrayed her window sills, in an orderly fashion, acting as an audience to her desks position solidly planted in the middle of the room. Mary pointed to the chairs opposite the desk and then sat in her own green leather bound office chair. Opening one of the drawers to her right, she withdrew a thick folder with the words Red Rock scrawled across the front, slowly setting it down in front of her. ¡°You should know¡± she began, ¡°that whatever information I have, Red Rock knows I have. They just don¡¯t care.¡± She opened the front of the folder and sighed. ¡°Red Rock is only part of a much bigger beast, a small gear in some vast workings as it were¡±. She pulled out a sheet of paper and studied it for a moment.


    ¡°This is the location of Site F, Korallgrottans Naturreservat, just outside of the small town of Ankarvattnet. It¡¯s how it sounds, and is with a natural reserve so Red Rock¡¯s tentacles can only extend so far. There¡¯s a waterfall nearby and the caves are prone to flooding. This is apparently the reason for the majority of the deaths there. Unexpected flooding, entrapment and then, well, you understand.¡± Joe and Darius looked at each other and shivered.


    ¡°Nasty way to go¡± Darius mused.


    ¡°Indeed. Now, why have Red Rock got away with having people die on their site so often? This is because it is in fact a nature reserve and those who descend into the depths do so at their own risk essentially. Of course, it is rumoured that Red Rock have created a man-made shaft deeper into the cave network but who knows? Each person who goes down under the banner of Red Rock has to sign an NDA so nothing really gets out. In fact that¡¯s a prerequisite for working for them.¡± Mart pulled out another sheaf of paper and passed it to the brothers. ¡°What¡¯s odd is that this place has had a geological survey before. As you can see, the surveyors indicated that there was a next to zero chance of there being even coal down there, not to mention oil.¡±


    ¡°So why are they there?¡± Joe asked, passing back the sheet of paper.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s the million pound question no?¡±


    ¡°My father also said the same in his diary. He indicated that Red Rock had dug a shaft down almost 1000 ft, and that was five years ago or so.¡±


    ¡°Do you have that diary, I would love to read it?¡± Mary asked excitedly.


    ¡°First, what¡¯s your stake in Red Rock? Why are you so interested in their going ons?¡±


    Mary¡¯s face fell. ¡°Would you believe me if I said professional curiosity?¡± She looked them both over and then sighed, getting up to put the kettle on. As she spooned some loose tea into a china teapot she continued. ¡°My mentor, and the one who set up this online newspaper, was an excellent investigative journalist. He taught me everything I know.¡± She nodded her head towards a picture of a rotund gentleman on the wall. ¡°His name was Lucius, Lucius Ward, and he died whilst investigating one of Red Rock¡¯s sister''s companies. One under the same umbrella I spoke of earlier.¡±


    ¡°What umbrella is that?¡± Darius asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get to that. Anyway, Lucius had a habit of breaking into places and one night, without telling me, he broke into one of Selma¡¯s warehouses. I presume he was certain he would find some sort of damning evidence there, but we will never know. He was shot as an intruder by the defending security. The security claimed that he had come armed so they had no choice to respond in kind.¡± She shook her head ¡° where the hell is a fat reporter supposed to get a gun? Especially in this country. Anyway, he was foolish, sure, of course he was going to get caught, he wasn¡¯t exactly James Bond. And yet, the fact that he still attempted it, the fact that he took such a risk. It means whatever he was searching for was extremely important, like it was worth his life to search for, or maybe even reveal to the world.¡± The tea had steeped by this time and so she poured out three cups, adding milk as requested. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°So why Red Rock and not Selma?¡± Joe asked, thanking Mary for the tea.


    ¡°Simple. Selma shut up shop three years ago. Some of their assets went to other companies under the umbrella, and the site that Lucius died at went to Red Rock. I¡¯ve been investigating them ever since, along with other work to keep the website making money of course. Now you asked who or what this umbrella was, and well, that¡¯s not an easy question to answer. In reality there is nothing official, all the companies, at least on paper, appear to operate independently. Yet, if you follow the people, as I have done, you will find personnel working or having worked in multiple companies, sales between those companies of assets at ridiculous prices and other such indicators.¡± She took a sip of her tea and leaned back in her chair. ¡°Of course this is purely conjecture and maybe it¡¯s all coincidence, but I¡¯d stake my reputation on there being a higher power behind all of the companies. So far I have identified seven possible umbrella companies, but I am sure there are more¡±.


    They sat in silence for a while, savouring the delicious tea, a blend of assam and earl grey according to Mary, and digested Mary¡¯s words. ¡°Now, you said your father died at site F, what does that mean to you? Why have you come here today?¡±


    Joe looked at Darius, and then turned back to Mary ¡°Essentially, I found the whole thing mighty strange and I was hoping if you might know a way that I can get into Site F to explore it myself. Knowing that there might be a reason for my father¡¯s death rather than just an accident, compels me to do something.¡± Mary nodded in understanding. ¡°How far are you willing to go to find out the truth though?¡± Joe laughed ¡°As far as it takes, I just had a life crisis of my own you see, and I finally understand what is important. My life being in danger is not unwarranted if I¡¯m doing right by our old man. Besides our mother, well, let''s just say that if we find some good news or even just some clarity we hope it will help our mum¡±.


    ¡°Well, you heard me say that the place is a Swedish nature reserve. That means the public is entitled to explore the caves for a small fee, without any restrictions from Red Rock, as they are there at the pleasure of the Swedish government. The Swedish parliament isn¡¯t very happy with Red Rock at the moment either, especially as some of the recent deaths were some of Sweden¡¯s top experts. I had already booked a trip to go spelunking in those caves in a few weeks. Why don¡¯t you come with me?¡± She looked at Darius pointedly, considering his size, as she was somewhat sceptical of Joe¡¯s skeletal form. Darius shook his head, ¡°I can¡¯t go, I have a job starting in Bristol next month, however Joe here, once he gets his passport, should be all go¡±. He slapped Joe on the shoulder to emphasise his point, causing Joe to choke on the tea he was sipping daintily.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have a passport?¡± Mary asked, looking annoyed. Why would she want to take this skinny fellow along instead of the rather handsome looking giant by his side. She began to regret asking if they¡¯d join her, but before she changed her mind Joe stood up.


    ¡°Okay, here¡¯s my number, call me with the details and I¡¯ll arrange my own flight etc. Don¡¯t worry about the passport thing, I will have it in hand before we leave. We have stuff to do, so, thanks for your time and the excellent tea, and we¡¯ll keep in touch.¡± And with that they both quit the room without giving Mary so much as a chance to say goodbye.

 Chapter 17

    Joe¡¯s passport arrived only a week later, and he immediately went to his bank to obtain a new card. The bank manager saw to him personally and he was in and out within the hour. He took a look at his balance and was pleasantly surprised, seeing that he was making good money on the interest alone. He headed directly to the shops and went on a shopping spree that would cause his grandad to turn in his grave. He felt a sense of satisfaction as he knew the money, which had primarily come from his dad¡¯s passing, was now paying for Joe¡¯s outfitting as he prepared to seek, maybe not justice, but at least understanding for his dad¡¯s death.


    Upon returning to Peckham to his brother¡¯s flat, Joe fell onto the sofa, pint of water sloshing in one hand. With his other hand he withdrew a plastic bag from his inside pocket and held it momentarily aloft in front of his face. ¡°What are you?¡± he murmured. Removing the blue plastic bag, he exposed the mottled clay amphora once again to the world. If it wasn¡¯t in front of him, he knew he just couldn¡¯t believe that this thing existed. The Stone of Memory¡¯s amphora. What was inside? There¡¯s no way whatever is stored inside can be good for me right? I mean even Augustus said it had likely been millenia since he had stored this in the stone. If it was organic, surely it can only be dust now?


    Joe examined the amphora from all angles, rightly nervous that whatever was contained within could be fatal to his poor life. Still, the curiosity was too strong and finally he attempted to remove the stopper. As soon as he felt the intent to open in his mind the stopper disappeared from the amphora, as if it had never been. Joe was shocked, but before he had a chance to react a strong medicinal smell hit his nostrils, causing them to tingle. ¡®What on earth?¡¯ His brain felt faster, his sight sharper, his hearing stronger and that was just a whiff from whatever was in the bottle. ¡°Good stuff!¡± he exclaimed.


    Maybe it was from his life on the streets ingesting whatever was handed to him, or maybe the medical scent had caused his reason to flee, but without regards to his own safety he chucked his head back and swallowed the liquid that was within the amphora, leaving only a few drops. He sat there expectantly, looking inwardly to see what he could feel. After a moment he began to feel nervous, "What if I just unknowingly ingested a potent poison, or an aphrodisiac or¡­¡± before his mind began to unwind he suddenly began to feel hot. His stomach was boiling as if a volcano had taken root near his belly button. ¡°Oh shit¡± he cried, dashing to the toilet. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Needless to say, what occurred over the next 15 minutes was not Joe¡¯s proudest. From both ends he expelled waste, like a deflating water balloon. Even his pores seemed to act like miniature exhausts, pushing forward a foul black substance akin to tar. By this time, Joe was shivering on the floor of the shower, naked except for his shirt and socks he had failed to take off in his haste, writhing like an obese snake. Somehow he had managed to turn the shower on, so slowly Joe¡¯s discharge was washed away. Joe didn''t actually feel pain, more something akin to severe nausea, like he had eaten something so poisonous the body had reacted in the most extreme of manners. He thought about the amphora and groaned ¡°why was I so impulsive?¡±. Yet still, he actually felt, post evacuation, really quite good. He felt stronger, lighter even, that one made sense. Once again his clarity of mind had risen like it had done in the cave not so long ago.


    After scrubbing himself down fully, leaving his sodden clothes in the shower basin, he looked in the mirror, wiping away the condensation. His appearance had altered slightly, the few spots he had seemed to have disappeared. The faint laughter lines that appeared around his eyes were also gone. Even his skin felt softer, cleaner. ¡°Was that some sort of ancient beauty potion? Why would Augustus leave me a beauty potion? Surely there must be more to it?¡±


    He robed himself in a dressing gown and returned to the amphora that had rolled under the sofa. He pulled at the sofa to look beneath it and found the sofa to be surprisingly light, almost launching the sofa at the opposite wall. ¡®Well that¡¯s new¡­¡¯. He picked up the amphora and inspected it in the light. ¡®Hmm, there are a few drops left, maybe I can analyse the substance to find its chemical makeup. I¡¯ll need a lab with a centrifuge at least though¡¯. An image of a woman, resplendent with long flowing black hair popped into his mind. ¡®Looks like I can¡¯t avoid her forever¡¯.

 Chapter 18

    Julia sat contemplating a complex molecule as she swirled a vodka martini in her hand, the olive rotating on the rim keeping tempo. She was sitting at her kitchen island with sheafs of paper and a laptop spread in front of her. ¡®I wonder what they want to synthesise this molecule for¡¯ she thought, placing her glass down without taking a sip. Her phone began to ring. ¡°Hello?¡± she answered not recognizing the nameless number.,


    ¡°Hello Julia, it¡¯s me Joe¡±. Julia sucked in a cool breath, pulling the phone away from her ear and staring at it.


    ¡°Hello? Hello?¡± Taking a minute to adjust her mental state, Julia returned the phone to her ear.


    ¡°Hello Joe. Long time no speak¡­ Glad you hear that you¡¯re alive at last¡±


    ¡°Ahem well, yes. Sorry about that. In fact this the reason I rang, I thought we could catch up maybe? Then I can tell you all about my, er, adventures the last few years. And to be frank, I need your help.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know Joe, your disappearance was very hard on me, I mean, it¡¯s been almost 5 years! Not one word Joe, whether you were alive or dead. I even pulled in a few favours at work to see if we could track you down.¡¯ She picked up her drink, downing it, as the olive bounced erratically. Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°I know I did you wrong back then, but to punish me like this¡­ I don¡¯t know whether I can see you again.¡±


    Joe was silent for a time. ¡°Look Julia, I think we both need a fresh start yeah? We have too much baggage and it would be better if we left that behind us. To be honest, I need to see you in a professional capacity anyway.¡± Julia was silent so long that Joe began to feel nervous.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean we won¡¯t ever talk about what happened, but maybe now for both our sanities, we could brush it under the rug temporarily?¡±


    Julia remained silent as she studied the olive in her glass. She wanted to say no, to cast Joe off into the wake of her past but that same wake dragged her down. Memories came unbidden of their past, and of Joe¡¯s recovery post coma and she felt her heart weaken. For her, those memories were some of the most precious and those resultant searing emotions had their respective effect on her reason.


    ¡°Okay, we can meet down in Kent then, come to Canterbury and we¡¯ll meet in the Buttermarket, outside the entrance to the Cathedral¡± her tone was cold now, and Joe sighed.


    ¡°When?¡±


    Julia flicked through her phone calendar.


    ¡°Saturday at two¡±


    ¡°Okay¡±


    ¡°Okay see you then¡± She hung up the phone, a smile belying her face. She quickly dismissed it with a shake of her head ¡°Idiot¡± she intoned berating herself.

 Chapter 19

    Canterbury, gaining its name from the Celtic Cantai tribe that once settled by the river Stour many aeons ago, was a historic city. Interestingly enough it was only a city due to its majestic Cathedral that dominated the horizon for many miles around. In fact, the city had made it a law that no building could in any way obstruct the view of the Cathedral¡¯s towers and hence aided its domination. To those who lived there, they only saw the church of England, who used the cathedral as their capital, the archbishop being the head honcho, as greedy landlords. The sheer quantity of tourists who visited this city to stomp the stone paved streets lent to a healthy local economy, and as the city was on the road between London and Dover, made for an excellent midway stop for cyclists and motorists alike.


    Joe walked out of Canterbury East, one of two train stations that served the city. He found himself atop a great flint wall that wrapped the eastern city in its protective embrace. He strolled along the top of the wall taking in the sites of the garden¡¯s below, checking his phone occasionally to maintain direction. It didn¡¯t take him long until he found himself on the high street, a bustling thoroughfare, with buskers, touters, fruit sellers and pickpockets alike. Finding the place reminiscent slightly of the old Woolwich gunnery, he continued down the cobbled street, passing tudor buildings, who sat like old bulldogs facing the much uglier 60¡¯s buildings that held host to the usual array of high street shops. The juxtaposition of eras was common to Kent, seeing most of their towns bombed during the second world war.


    Delving down a narrow alleyway that was made up mostly of pubs and restaurants, Joe finally exited into a square that faced the entrance to the cathedral. The hubbub of the crowd was greater here, especially due to the various pubs outside seating that sat lining the square. Feeling his throat somewhat parched, Joe ordered himself a pint from the Buttermarket Inn, and then sat outside in the square to observe the passers by. He felt oddly content as he sat there, people watching, seeing the various nations gawk at statues and ancient buildings. He was proud of his country, but the philosopher in him punished him for this sentiment. Built on lies and the entrenchment of the peasants he thought. Then again, he considered, the peasants are long dead and we might as well enjoy what is left, despite its questionable origins.


    He shook his head at his foolishness, what does it matter anyway? From ashes to ashes, dust to dust. What matters is the now, the present. He took a sip of his cool beer and nodded his head sagely. ¡®Mmm, and the present is very good. I am alive when recently I was almost dead. I feel like I can never view the world the same way¡¯. He began to feel a strong anticipation rise in his chest, fondling the amphora that was nestled in his pocket. ¡®What will the future bring?¡¯ he mused.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Two o''clock soon came round and the great bells of Canterbury Cathedral chimed twice. Before Joe stood a figure from his past, an elegant figure, a figure which would not be amiss if it were to be the lead actress in a major Hollywood romance. Joe stood up politely to welcome the figure ¡°Julia. It¡¯s good to see you¡± he crossed the table to give her a hug. ¡°Can I get you a drink?¡±. Julia, on the other hand, was stunned when she saw Joe. He did not look like the hulking rugby player that she remembered. In fact she was so shocked by his diminutive appearance she forgot to answer his question and left them standing awkwardly.


    ¡°Drink?¡± he asked again.


    ¡°Er, whatever you¡¯re having please Joe¡±


    ¡°Coming right up¡± he smiled, glad that she hadn¡¯t changed that much, on the surface at least.


    After Joe had returned with her beer, they sat in contemplative silence for a while until Julia broke it. ¡°So what is it that you need my help with Joe, professionally?¡± She brushed her hair behind her ear as she spoke, exposing the scintillating array of earrings that bejewelled the curve of her ear. ¡°I actually would like your help in analysing a substance¡± he said, revealing the amphora. ¡°This substance is extremely mysterious to me, and I picked it up by chance. There are only two drops in here, and I would love to know their chemical makeup with the goal of possibly reproducing it¡± he passed the amphora to Julia.


    ¡°Seems like quite a simple request Joe. Surely you could have rented your own lab to do this, no?¡± she asked with her eyebrows raised, studying the clay amphora.


    ¡°Mmm, maybe I could have, or could do, if you don¡¯t want to help, but honestly, you are the better chemist out of the pair of us, especially as I didn¡¯t even make it past first year¡± a glimmer of regret passed over Joe¡¯s face as he spoke. Julia noticed this and felt her heart tremble slightly, she knew of the pain and regret Joe felt after his accident and assumed he still had the same difficulties as before. It should be noted that Joe had expressly not used his right arm in front of Julia, in the want to save time on an explanation. Explaining things to one¡¯s brother is easier than in the face of a highly intelligent woman such as Julia, who would surely nitpick at his every white lie.


    Julia weighed the amphora in her hand and then looked at Joe. ¡°I can do this for you, but¡± she raised her delicate hand as Joe¡¯s expression brightened ¡° you have to tell me where you have been and why you now look like a character out of The Nightmare before Christmas?¡±


    Joe chuckled, ¡°this I can do, although a bit harsh on the reference no?¡± Julia smiled coyly but remained silent as Joe settled down to begin his tale.

 Chapter 20

    Julia thought she was prepared for whatever Joe had to say, but the ensuing tale made her knuckles turn white. His tales of abject depression, drinking to oblivion, and perilous life on the streets was not easy listening and she began to take on a look of pity as she watched Joe talk. He eventually finished his tale, vaguely describing how he had a near death experience and had decided to change his way of life once more. He then went on to explain the issues behind his father¡¯s death and his impetus for change. ¡°Honestly, I have many reasons to live now, the main one being resolving this mystery of my father¡¯s death. Even if he did die as described, at least I can put it to rest you know and move on. Maybe it might even give my mum a reaction, who knows?¡± He held that hope deep in his heart, that his mum would eventually recover her faculties, he just had to find the trigger for doing so.


    ¡°Joe¡­¡± she started ¡°you should have told me, I would have helped, you could have stayed with me. I was helping wasn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t about you Julia, I just gave up, you know. I needed to do things my way, even if they were super self-destructive¡±. Julia nodded but didn¡¯t look convinced.


    ¡°Anyway, how¡¯s your work going, I imagine you have your masters by now? Are you still working on your doctorate?¡± Julia took a breath, wiping at her eyes with her little finger.


    ¡°Mhmm, you¡¯ll be calling me doctor Salaya soon.¡± Joe raised his eyebrows in mock disapproval. ¡°Only two years to go actually, I went with physical chemistry, like you may have guessed.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The two began to discuss Julia¡¯s choice of doctorate and what she had worked on so far at Tizers. Joe could feel the gap between his knowledge and Julia¡¯s, knowing he had been thoroughly left behind. Still he didn¡¯t feel upset, knowing that if he wanted, he could quite likely resume his degree at Oxford now his brain was working once again.


    The evening soon crept up on them, so they decided to go to an Italian that overlooked the river, where boats usually were punted or rowed, giving water borne tours of the city. Julia, underlit by the candles at their table, looked hauntingly beautiful and Joe felt his heart swell. It was all too easy to fall in love with this woman, all over again. He ignored his blooming heart and tried to keep the conversation light. By 10 o¡¯clock they were the only one¡¯s in the restaurant, their conversation as unending as the bottles of wine that accompanied them. They noticed the server¡¯s impatience and called for the bill. Julia looked regretful that their time had ended, and Joe had to admit he felt the same. Was this how their life would have been like if life hadn¡¯t got in the way? Joe felt a twang of anger as he remembered Bob and Julia that night many years ago. ¡®I wish I could forget¡¯ he thought, savouring the scent of Julia as she walked in front of him. Then he thought of his time being homeless, he thought of his near death in the hole beneath London and he felt his anger dissipate as dew evaporates in the warmth of the day.


    He put his hand around Julia¡¯s waist as they walked side by side towards the west gate of Canterbury. Julia stiffened and then slowly relaxed as she watched Joe¡¯s profile. The cobbles of the streets glistened from a recent rain, reflecting the lights of the shops and restaurants. The moon emerged from behind a cloud, accompanying the stars as a silent audience to the scenes of humanity below them. Joe led Julia back to his hotel, both oblivious to the spying stars and moon.