Distant Lives//Book Two of the Separate Entities Trilogy

Chapter One

A plane sounded overhead. Waves below us splashed against our three little boats. Oars hit and rose from the water, each rotation taking us farther and farther from the life we had to leave behind. Jacob looked up, and I could only wonder what he was thinking. I needed to give him more credit - he may have decided not to go to college, but he certainly wasn't stupid. He was smarter than me, probably, and his thought process was a lot more profound than mine - if that made sense. I could see him being an author, like his father. Maybe, if we survived the journey, he could write down our story one day.

Time went by slowly - after just half an hour I felt like we should have arrived at our destination. Of course, we wouldn't reach mainland Wales for another few hours, and I was beginning to grow bored. That boredom was temporarily put to rest when Horace tapped my shoulder, letting me know silently that it was my turn to row. As soon as he sat down where I had been, he asked loudly how far we had left to go. I looked at Emma, who had a simple map of Wales and its islands. After a contemplative moment, she replied.

"Seven kilometers?" she shouted back, sounding quite unsure. Millard, who was in my boat and examining the Map of Days, looked up at that, a frown on his face.

"Make that eight and a half," he corrected, and the rest of us let out a collective groan. Once Horace and I switched back, I would request to stay that way - I hated boats, and after just a few moments of rowing, I was already feeling queasy. Now, with eight and a half kilometers between us and our destination, I felt even sicker. If we were back in 2013, a ferry could have made the distance in about an hour. I dreaded few things more than the idea of the harrowing boat ride ahead. One of these things, of course, were the monsters that were set on our deaths - hollowgasts, and to a lesser extent, wights.

Those goddamn creatures - I couldn't bring myself to consider wights humans, despite their likenesses to us - were somewhere below us in a German submarine, a thought that only made me feel worse. I wondered if they already knew we'd fled the island - if they didn't, they would soon find out. Another plane flew overhead, causing me to flinch and nearly drop the oars in my hands. I just hoped we'd reach the mainland before night fell.

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By noon I was sure we all regretted not bringing fresh water with us. I was glad Horace was alright with not switching anymore, so only Fiona and Millard switched from time to time - even then, Millard would ask for a little extra time to study the Map. The only two downsides I saw to not rowing were that I was constantly bored, and I felt bad for not doing my share of the work. I knew I would have to make up for it later on. 

While I sat, waiting in the center of the boat, my mind had time to wander. What could my parents possibly think about my call? It had been long enough now that they'd be awake - what would they make of it now that their thoughts were no longer covered by a blanket of sleep? How would Kev react to seeing the twin room keys back on the counter without so much as a goodbye note? I was only overthinking, but the burning sun and monotonous rhythm of oars hitting the waves were slowly driving me crazy - not to mention my lack of sleep.

Somewhere in my growing delirious state, I began wishing for Bronwyn's strength - she was rowing a whole boat by herself. She made it look easy; there was hardly a bead of sweat on her forehead and her boat had more cargo than the other two, that cargo being Claire, Olive, and several heavy trunks. In these trucks were several practical things, like clothes and food and books the children couldn't bear to leave behind. However, as one may expect from peculiar children, there were some more peculiar items as well - for instance, Enoch had packed a few jars of disembodied animal hearts, and Hugh was sure to store the house's front doorknob in a pocket in his bag. He'd found it in the grass on our way from the house and refused to leave without it - none of us could object, nor could we object Horace's request to bring along his lucky pillow, which he said helped keep his worst nightmares at bay.