Each footstep becomes more and more difficult. The glaring sun beats down on my withered body, scorching my skin. My tongue clings to the roof of my mouth, parched from the dry air. It feels as if I’m moving through a furnace. The heat is unbearable. Every sinew of my fatigued musculature aches. Pain traverses my lower calves, searing in the baking hot sun. I don’t think I can go on much longer. I have no water. No food. I have not slept in days. Side-stepping a scorpion I follow the trail up a gentle incline. Even this proves arduous. I can’t take much more of this. My forehead pulsates, sending a blinding ache through my skull. My stomach is empty. Hunger pangs have transformed into painful darts of searing agony. I can’t recall the last person I’ve seen. It must have been before I found this trail. Before I got lost, sent off track and far from what I understand. Before I could even recall my name. The soles of my feet burn, hot to the touch. Another step and I will collapse. I fear my knees will not be able to support the weight of my own body. I need a drink. Food, water, anything for sustenance. The heat is so intense. Sweat dripping down my forehead scalds my skin. The end is near, I can sense it. Only a few more staggered steps. The desert spins. My world revolves. Faster and quicker my surroundings whirl in a blur of indecipherable colours and shades. The ground comes too quickly.
I’m snapped out of my reverie by the sound of fire crackling in the hearth. Drenched in sweat, I look around, bewildered by my surroundings. A large fire is blazing in front of me, warm and inviting. The heat is intense. I’m soaked to the touch. The shirt on my back clings to me like a second skin. A charcoal, iron-wrought fireplace hosts an inviting blaze. The flames dance as I stare hypnotised by the enigmatic sparks cascading from the roaring fire. I am covered in cold sweat. The mantelpiece holds a collection of bronze trophies reflected by a wide horizontal mirror overlooking the room.
My eyes dart around the room. I have no idea where I am. Wind and rain howl outside a small casement window overlooking a rugged coastline. The walls consist of large irregular shaped stones stacked on top of one another painted white and varying shades of grey and lime. Doilies are everywhere. On the lacquered coffee table in front of me rests a vase stand in the corner. I can hear a kettle whistling. ‘How did I get here?’ I wonder, searching around the room for an answer.
‘I hope you had a nice rest.’ An elderly woman with white, curly hair shuffles across the floral pattern carpet carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. Hobbling over to the coffee table she bends over and places the tray in front of me. A wide smile spreads across her face.
‘I hope you don’t mind. I made some tea. Hope you like hob-nobs.’
I stare at the woman as she takes her cup from the tray. She lifts one of the biscuits and sets it beside her cup before turning to sit into an arm chair facing the fireplace. There is complete silence for a few minutes. It feels like an eternity. I’m completely stunned. The blackouts are getting worse.
‘There’s nothing like tea and biscuits on a cold, stormy afternoon like this.’ she says.
I stare at the hearth for a moment, feeling sweat stream down my forehead in rivulets. Instinctively I reach for a biscuit, astounded I can move. ‘How long has it been?’ I wonder, thinking back to the man sitting next to my bed.
‘You’ve been quite poorly, I must say. You weren’t very well when you came here, no sir.’
‘Who am I?’ I croak, surprised by my voice. It sounds old, as if it is coming from someone else. The old lady sits back in her chair, smiling quietly to herself as she drinks her tea. Setting the cup down on the russet skirt covering her lap she fixes the glasses on the bridge of her nose and stares at me. ‘You really don’t remember a thing you poor boy, do you?’ she asks, gazing at me from behind her milk-bottle glasses.
‘Who are you?’ I ask, my throat dry and sore.
‘Have yourself some tea young man. It sounds as if you could do with a cuppa.’
I do as I’m told. Reaching for the cup I take it from the metal tray. The handle shakes as I raise it to my lips. The hot liquid tastes metallic, as if I’m drinking crude oil. I don’t care. I take one large gulp of the tea realising how dehydrated I am. I drain the remainder of the cup. When I’m finished, I set the bone china onto the tray almost breathless from the effort.
‘There, did that feel better?’ the woman asks. I nod my head wiping sweat with the back of my sleeve off my brow.
‘You’re probably wondering what it is that has you here, aren’t you?’
I nod my head again, resting my back against the sofa.
‘They tell me you were quite the slippery eel. They tried to keep you where you were. Didn’t seem to work though.’ she drains her cup and sets it on the lacquered table next to her chair. The china makes a slight tinkle as she places it on the wood.
‘They said you were hiding from them. You wouldn’t help them. You wouldn’t do a thing for them.’
‘Who? What are you talking about?’ I hear myself blurting out, the anger in my voice surprises me.
‘Settle down lad. There’s no need for anger. We can’t have you getting up in a heap over a couple of forgotten people now can we?’ She rearranges her grey woollen cardigan tilting her head to the side. ‘There’s so much that you don’t know.’ Her voice remains calm, as measured as when she first began talking.
‘You know what I think? I think you know who I am and just don’t want to tell me. I know something that you don’t. Something big. Something that could be a threat.’
‘What on earth are you talking about? Was the tea too hot?’ she asks, furrowing her brow.
‘I want you to tell me who I am. Where I’ve come from. How I arrived here. Who are you anyway?’ I comb my hair back with my hands noticing how greasy and unkempt it feels against my skin.
‘Deary, deary me. It seems you’ve forgotten everything, haven’t you lad? Would it be so hard just to leave the past in the past and move on with our little lives? Would it? I mean, it was only a couple of deaths. A few bodies here and there. Not as if a whole country or more was wiped out. We can’t stop watching the news just because someone has been a bit naughty now can we?’
Her calmness irritates me. ‘Look, I just want to find out what’s going on. This is all extremely weird and strange and just does not make any sense. I was in a log cabin with some guy I’ve never met before and he was giving me water, I spilled it.’ My voice runs short. I feel as if I’ve lost my speech. ‘Log Cabin? That doesn’t sound like anywhere I know my lad. I think it would be best if you take a rest my son. You don’t look too well. I think you should lie down for a bit, it will do you some good. Maybe putting the head down is the best thing for you.’
‘I don’t want to take a rest,’ I shout, scraping my vocal chords as I speak.
‘Calm down and finish your tea. There’s plenty more in the pot you know. It’s not like there’s a limited supply of tea around here let me tell you that.’
‘Tell me who I am. You must know.’
‘Why would you want to know that?’ she replies, smirking behind her glasses.
‘You’re insane!’ I shout, springing to my feet.
‘Looks to me that you’re the one who isn’t quite well right now. Maybe you should go upstairs, have a bit of a nap. A rest my do you the world of good.’
‘I don’t want a nap, or sleep, or any of your tea. Where are my things? I’m going.’
‘Your things? You came with only yourself, and what a state you were in let me tell you.’ she said, shaking her head. A wry grin spreads across her lips. ‘I had to help drag you in myself you were so unwell. Thought you would keel over if you had the chance. Could have done with a bit of help let me tell you that.’
‘How did I get here? Who brought me? What do you know?’ I demand, staring at the woman.
‘What I know? Well, there’s a question and a half my lad. Well, all I can say is that you were certainly in the wrong place at the wrong time. From what they tell me, you’re very lucky to be alive. Lucky to be sitting on my couch in front of a roaring fire instead out in that weather like some of the sheep farmers across the lake. When you arrived at my doorstep on a windy September morning you were in a horrid state let me tell you that. You were up to your eyes in muck, scars on your skin left, right and centre. If I had a calculator I couldn’t count the stitches you would have needed.’
‘This is all so confusing. What happened to the men?’
‘Well, God rest their souls. Those poor boys that brought you here. They’re gone.’
The two boys? What does she mean?
‘They were working hard, trying their best. God love them, they managed to save you. They didn’t look to well themselves. Seemed as if they were through a bit of a rough patch. Some of them could have done with some saving. Don’t ask me how they got you here. That part’s a bit of a mystery if you ask me.’
The men. They brought me here. But why?
‘From what I was told, they went down with their raft. Less than half a mile from shore. Poor men decided it best to head out even though a storm was approaching from across the water. This place is surrounded by water. Very safe from intruders, very hard to escape.’
‘Who were they with?’ I demand.
‘Let’s just say that you’re very lucky to be alive. They didn’t say much. Just the usual. Could you help out a bit? This poor lad won’t make it. We have to get back to shore. It was all very rushed. We had to do something to help you.’
‘Everybody keeps saying that. Why? Why am I lucky? Who am I?’
‘Well they didn’t tell me that. All I know is that you weren’t the best when you arrived.’
‘Who are they? What are you talking about? You’re not even making any sense!’
I interlock my hands over my head. Stepping away from the couch I bump my knee on the coffee table, knocking the tea and biscuits onto the floor. I watch the contents of the teapot crash to the floor spilling across the carpet. I stare at the mess for a moment.
‘Never mind that lad,’ she says, rising slowly from her armchair. ‘You just put your feet up. I think you need a lie down.’
‘Lie down? How can I lie down when I don’t even know who I am? Who are you anyway? Why won’t you tell me anything?’
‘I can’t talk to you if there’s nothing to be certain of, can I? They didn’t even know.’
‘Who are they? God, you are so frustrating.’
She stares at me for a moment, her calm demeanour falling from her face. Her content expression vanishes in an instant. ‘You have not been very kind today, have you?’ she says, her tone dark. I take a breath. ‘I just want to know what’s going on. Please tell me what you want with me. How did I get here?’ I ask, searching her expression for an answer.
‘I’ve already told you that my dear. You were very ill when you came in that front door I must say. I helped you into bed. Had to shower you and everything. God it was a job and a half getting you clean and tidy. You must have been dragged through a field backwards with all of that muck and dirt covering you.’ she says.
‘Then why was I brought here? Can you give me an idea of who I am? An identity? Anything?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t my dear. It’s with them now.’ she replies.
‘Who are them? They? Who do you even mean?’ I cry, confused by her incessant ramblings.
‘The friendly fellows who brought you here. Said you were feeling a bit under the weather, so they decided to take you here. Thought you could do with a bit of a holiday by the sea I reckon.’ she says, smiling.
The room spins slightly as a wave of anger passes over me. ‘This can’t be happening. Won’t anyone tell me something? Anything?’
‘I think you might ask too many questions my dear. There’s no need to get so uptight. What’s a couple of months anyway?’
‘Months? Have I been here months?’
‘Wish I could say you remember. Had to tuck you in at night and all. You truly don’t remember a thing, do you?’ she asks, her expression soft.
My heart pounds in my chest. Blood sluices to my legs. I turn to face the doorway, my footsteps stagger. ‘Where are you going my dear? Don’t you want to finish your tea and biscuits? There’s some carrot cake in the fridge if you prefer.’
I don’t reply. Pushing the door, I burst into the hall. The front door is to my left. I take a brief look down the hall towards the kitchen. Turning to face the door, I open it. A strong breeze blows me back. I grab a rain coat hanging on a line of hooks next to the door and shove my arms through the sleeves.
‘Don’t go too far my dear. You would catch your death in this weather.’ she says.
I step into the rain. Reaching for the handle, I slam the door shut. Propping the hood on my raincoat over my head, I can hear the lashing rain patter on top. The breeze sways my entire body, almost blowing me off course. I follow the short path leading out of the woman’s front garden. Reaching for the gate I stagger onto a mucky trail. I have no idea where it leads. I can barely see beyond a hundred metres through the relentless sheets of rain and wind. I know where home is, I just have to find it. I need to keep moving. They will return soon. They might find me. I have to hide, stay under cover. I will be safe if I keep running. I look over at the rolling hills in the gloom. ‘This could be anywhere,’ I think, picking up my pace as I face the storm. I take one last look back at the old woman’s cottage. Smoke billowing out of the chimney. ‘How in God’s name did I get here?’ I wonder, facing into the storm. The beginning of my journey starts here.