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                ‘Well that’s excellent,’ Tarquin says. ‘And you, Easton?’

                ‘I was thinking literature,’ I reply. I think of Penny, it’s what she would have done. I can remember all of the conversations she had about the books she loved. She made me love them too. I have to do something here while we look for Yates.

                ‘Fantastic,’ Tarquin says. ‘We’ll start you tomorrow. Come along, I’ll show you to your new home.’

                I wonder has he forgotten about Yates. We follow him out of the school. I spare a look back to Teague. Was there a look in his eye? That old glint of maniacal genius? It’s gone in an instant and I’m left to wonder. Maybe we’ll have to stay here just another day, to see whatever plan the Wildman turned teacher has concocted.

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Teague crosses to the new teenager and claps him on the shoulders. ‘What perfect timing,’ he says. ‘A graduation before our very eyes.’

                ‘How did that happen?’ I ask. We’d seen it before, but only with Yates. I’d always put it down to his state of mind. A lifetime of torturing himself for committing suicide had left him depressed and unstable. Our helping him returned him to a more confident state. He was prone to relapses though. I think of his frame in Windermere’s dungeon, and of his face sometimes when he thought he did something wrong.

                ‘Here you are as old as you want to be,’ Teague says. ‘Childhood is such a state of flux as it is, free of our physical forms we can mature in a deeper way than simply growing our physical body. Jacob here has matured in his work, way ahead of his years. So this is how you see him, and how we treat him.’

                Jacob beams at us and then at Teague, his happy teacher.

                ‘Go and see Tarquin with your news,’ Teague says, ‘I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.’

                ‘There’s no need!’

                The deep voice behind us erupts out of nothing. I jump a little. Elle smirks. I wonder how long Tarquin’s been standing there.

                ‘This is truly wonderful, the fourth child this week!’ Jacob looks at Tarquin a little sheepishly. ‘Report to the town hall, young man, we’ll find a place for you.’

                Tarquin looks at the pair of us. ‘This is what I hoped you’d see. Now I hope you’ll be a little more convinced of our lives here.’

                ‘It is remarkable,’ I say. Jacob squeezes past us with a quiet ‘excuse me’ .

                ‘Teague,’ Tarquin says. ‘I came to talk about your request and I must say it’s an excellent idea.’

                I look at Elle and then at Tarquin. Whenever someone says something like this about Teague I’m filled with an enormous sense of dread.

                ‘Teague here is running a singing recital tomorrow evening,’ he says, proudly. ‘Out in front of the town hall. The whole town will be there.’

                ‘That sounds wonderful,’ I say, but I hear the doubt in my voice. Tarquin lets it pass unnoticed.

                ‘So do you think you’d like to teach here with us?’

                ‘Elle has shown interest in my writing program,’ Teague proclaims, clapping a big hand on her shoulder. She flinches under the weight of it.

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‘I think so too,’ I reply. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust him. Problem is we have no proof he’s up to something?’

                Elle scrunches up her nose. She looks as though she wants to say something but isn’t sure if she should.

                ‘What did you notice?’ I ask. ‘I know that look.’

                It’s then that I notice how close I am to Elle. Maybe even closer than I ever was to Penny. It was never a romantic thing, I don’t think Elle’s interested in anything like that. But when I look at her sometimes, I know what she’s thinking. Maybe that’s the Edge, letting her thoughts and feelings leak out so much easier than if she was alive, but most of it is the friendship we’ve shared. I’m so happy I bumped into her on that day in Rome. I should tell her more often.

                Elle still pauses before she speaks. ‘It’s just, I was looking at what the kids had written and they’re all writing about the same thing. Home.’

                ‘What how this place is their home?’

                ‘No, home home. Where they were before they died? One of them was writing about San Francisco, another one about Nairobi?’

                ‘That’s weird, it’s not the sort of thing Tarquin and that lot seem to like?’

                ‘No, exactly, it’s quite cruel,’ Elle says. ‘He’s teasing them with a place they can’t get to anymore. Unless he has a reason for it?’

                ‘You mean using them for something?’ I consider the possibility. Is that all Teague needs? Concentrate enough thought on earth and we’ll return to it. Using the children would be his style.

                We can’t explore the idea further. Teague bursts into the hallway. ‘Come in, quick. You have to see this.’

                We walk back inside. The joy on his face would have been hard to fake. ‘This is why this place is wonderful,’ he says.

                We watch. One of the boys is standing up. He’s looking at himself like he’s never seen his body before. He must be about nine or ten, still with a boy’s frame and features. Slowly, and then very quickly, he begins to grow. First in height, he sprouts up like a time lapse view of a plant in growth. Then his shoulders square off. Finally his features harden and he takes on the visage of a boy of at least fifteen.

                ‘Congratulations Jacob!’ Teague cries. The class bursts into applause as me and Elle watch on, dumbfounded.

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               ‘Look, I understand your frustration with me, Easton, but you don’t really have a lot of choice here. And helping people isn’t exactly going to hurt.’

                It’s the hurting people, which is what holds me back from doing anything Teague wants to do. He is right though. He might stink to high heaven of some form of deception but that prejudice might be my trust issue.

                ‘How exactly do you find people who are stuck in between the worlds?’ I ask.

                ‘That’s something else you can do here. People go out into the desert specifically to seek out the people who are stuck. I hear you can feel them like waves of music.’

                I always felt like the way I could see music was important. It explains a lot of things, like why music can be a healer. How when you’re down or lost, you can listen to music and it can pick you up. I guess through song, the people here become a part of the people who find themselves stuck in the same way as we seek out our old favourites in times of need.

                ‘Do you know anything about crossing back over?’ I ask. ‘Tarquin told me that people feared falling into an abyss? And didn’t feel brave enough to cross to the Great Beyond.’

                ‘It would take enormous faith to step so knowingly into the unknown,’ Teague confirms. ‘I can admit now that I fear the Abyss, more than anything. It took me a long time to conquer a fear of death, but to fall into an unknown place like that?’ He shudders. ‘It’s too much for me to bear.’

                Elle returns to us from talking to the children. ‘Some of their work is really beautiful.’ She smiles. ‘I love seeing what children write, it’s always so brilliant and imaginative and intense in a way that adults can never do.’

                ‘I think you’ve found your calling here then,’ Teague says. ‘You can either take some of my children here, or just down the hall, a lovely lady from India is teaching them music, tempo, cadence, pitch, everything.’

                ‘Maybe I will,’ Elle says, smiling. Now she’s adopted the lilting, peaceful tone Teague, Tarquin and Sandra seem to insist on conversing in. ‘Easton, do you want to talk outside? Discuss what we’ll go on to do.’

                ‘Take as much time as you need,’ Teague says, holding his hands up. ‘Accept it as my gift of gratitude.’

                We nod and walk out into the warm open air. Elle turns to me and whispers urgently, ‘Something is seriously funky in there, Easton.’

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                Elle crouches beside the nearest child and introduces herself.

                ‘Perhaps you’d like to join me in the pursuit of writing,’ Teague says. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree it’s a most noble pursuit.’

                ‘Do you have to talk like that?’

                ‘Like what?’ he replies.

                ‘Like you’re a missionary or something.’

                ‘But aren’t we all missionaries in our own small way. We were missionaries of science back on earth.’

                ‘If you want to look at it that way.’ I pause. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t push for the teaching of science here.’

                His face goes darker. ‘Science led me down paths I don’t wish to revisit.’

                ‘Whatever you say, Roger.’ The name sounds strange in my mouth when I’m addressing him. ‘Do you have any idea where Yates might be?’

                ‘He could be anywhere,’ Teague replies. ‘Out in the vast desert of the mind.’

                ‘So it is our mind then?’ I ask.

                ‘We can’t say for certain,’ he replies. ‘We often speak about it at congregation.’

                ‘Congregation?’

                ‘Oh we collect after the work day to share tales, laughs, conversation. In the absence of dinner it’s all we can do, and better in a lot of ways.’

                ‘So our necessity to stay here must be due to mental blocks,’ I explore. ‘Portions of our mind that can be overcome if we really want to. Like how the body won’t willingly hurt itself without a significant amount of force or persuasion?’

                ‘Such a brilliant mind,’ he says. ‘We could have accomplished wonders together.’

                I look at him. An ounce of the old Teague shining through and I don’t know whether that’s a good thing. He quickly recovers. ‘It would do best to ignore such urges to find out why we’re here.’

                I hold up my hands. ‘All I want to do is find Yates. You can hold hands and sing camp songs all you want here.’

                I instantly regret my rudeness. This place just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. I can’t ever imagine just being. Not searching for the whys and the hows and the should we? And a big part of me doesn’t think Teague would ever stop either.

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                ‘So you’re just here for the teaching? No agenda, no evil plots afoot? Nothing.’

                ‘Got it in one,’ he says. ‘And I’d advise you join me here. It really brings a sense of peace.’

                I look into his murky eyes. Can I detect deception? Either he’s completely into his new role or he’s the world’s greatest not-living actor.

                He takes us aside from the children. ‘Look, I understand that I might not be trustworthy in your eyes, but see it from my point of view. Robin Thacker, the person I worshipped above all others, betrayed me. Why on earth would I want to go back to that place? Did you hear the singing? The togetherness in music? It brought us through. This place exists like a hive mind. They stand as a herd of humanity. Tell me of one place on earth where you’d find that?’

                A part of me agrees with him. It’s the limits of this place that don’t agree with me. The lack of science is an example. It seems to be living for the sake of living and I’ve always wanted to live in support of doing; of making myself and the world better in some small way.

                ‘Stay with me here a while,’ he says. ‘I’ve got the children writing their own songs in honour of the people here.’

                I look at Elle. She shrugs as if to say she’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. We can’t burst out into the square and start rebuking the town’s newest saint.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine

                ‘Roger’s taken to teaching like a duck to water,’ Tarquin laughs. ‘Hello, children, don’t pay attention to us.’

                The children chatter on our arrival. A distraction from the lesson.

                ‘Come now children, settle down,’ says Teague, in a very un-Teague-like voice.

                Each child has a stone tablet in front of them, with scratches of writing.

                Our shocked faces are clearly a cause of concern for Tarquin. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks. ‘Do you know each other.’

                It’s Teague who answers first. ‘I think I’d remember, Tarquin.’ He crosses to the back of the room to stand with us. ‘Keep scribing children, a scribing hand is a happy hand. Such little treasures,’ he smiles, putting a hand to his heart. He makes a face like a doting parent and I think I might be sick.

                Elle laughs, but I can tell it’s fake. Tarquin and Sandra don’t pick up on it. ‘Just in awe of a teacher at work,’ she lies.

                ‘The best person to take you through things here,’ Sandra says. ‘He’s had the children working twice as hard already.’

                The pair of them smile and say their goodbyes, leaving us in Teague’s capable hands.

                ‘Roger?’ I ask. ‘Really?’

                ‘I felt it was time for a shift in priorities,’ he says. ‘I felt that ‘Roger’ befitted a man who dedicated his life to teaching writing to the young of the after.’

                Elle raises her eyebrow so it disappears behind her pink fringe. ‘What are you pulling here, Teague? We’re not stupid.’

                ‘Don’t let my old ways blind you…’

                ‘What your old ways of a couple of hours ago?’ I ask.

                ‘Hours?’ he asks. ‘I’ve been here a week, my dear. Time, it appears, does not keep the same company in this place.’

Box Set - Chapter Twenty-Eight

             ‘Welcome to the Doldrums, Easton!’ says a voice to my left.

Suddenly the thousands of smiling faces make me a little uncomfortable. I’m not sure I like all their eyes on me.

The man wears a wide brimmed hat and a long robe. His beard is thick and black and his eyes stare at me from the edge of the fabric, warm and excited.

‘I’m Tarquin,’ he says.

‘Don’t call it the Doldrums, Tarquin, that’s so miserable,’ a woman nudges him. ‘We can call it what we like here, we’re not all miseries.’

I notice the ring of buildings around us and notice we’re in a village square. The same village square I saw the ruins of. The well I died in stands tall and proud to my left. The town hall, complete with pillars and shining windows is behind them.

There’s a parting of the ways and a pink ball of excitement tumbles towards me. She catches me in a bearhug and I feel the pull as she tries to lift me off the ground.

‘Easton!’ Elle says into my shoulder.

‘Elle!’ I say. ‘How did you get here?’

‘Same way you did,’ she says, setting me down. ‘The singing, lifting me out of the desert. A doctor led me here, it was Tarquin.’ She smiles at him.

‘So you people bring us across,’ he says. ‘How do you know?’

‘When you’re in tune with the Edge you can sense people lost in it, ripples that course to all of us. Some people ignore it of course, but others can do some good with it.’

‘Easton,’ Elle says. ‘I think this place is the Edge. It’s the land in between.’

I marvel at the idea of it. That a whole world could exist alongside our own one. Every time I close my eyes I get a glimpse into it. The universe is wide and confusing, but ultimately, this is wonderful.

I smile. ‘Where’s Yates?’

Elle’s face falls. ‘I…um… we haven’t found him yet.’

My face falls. Tarquin reaches over. ‘Don’t worry yourself, everyone turns up eventually.’ He notices that my face doesn’t change much. ‘Seriously, we rarely let anyone slip through our fingers, unless they choose to leave themselves.’

‘Come,’ says the woman. ‘We’ll find you lodgings. We’ll find your friend.’

The crowd parts to let us through. Occasionally someone stops me and shakes my hand, or claps me on the back. Of everything I’ve experienced so far, this is the strangest.

‘What have you found out?’ I ask Elle.

‘As far as I can tell, this place has always been here,’ Elle says, ‘it exists on the path to the Great Beyond.’

‘So it’s real?’

‘Well, that’s the question,’ she says. ‘They all believe it is. It’s just the problem, no matter how much you say it, how much are you ever convinced of something, especially something with no proof. Some people choose to go, and they lose their belief, fear sets in and people end up here. They’ve made a pretty good life for themselves to be fair.’

‘We make do,’ Tarquin leans over his shoulder. Obviously he’s been listening. ‘As far as we can tell, this world is mostly desert, but we’re filling it. We find quarries and fashion tools. As I’m sure you noticed before, interacting with physical objects is no problem for us. We found a quarry nearby.’ He waves his hands at the lines of buildings and pavements.

‘So we’re still ghosts,’ I confirm. The rumble in my stomach disagrees.

‘Always,’ Elle says. ‘You just have to learn to accept some facts.’

‘Your mind is strong but your will and belief can be stronger if you train it to be. I’m Sandra by the way.’I shake another hand.

‘Tarquin’s the major here.’

‘How do you become mayor of a ghost town?’ I ask.

‘Vote,’ he smiles. ‘Literally by show of hands. Some people prefer to stay here because they think it’s as close to a Great Beyond as they can get.’

Personally, the idea of living under a baking sun and never seeing the world I love again isn’t my idea of paradise. I wouldn’t dare question Tarquin or his friends though, they’re not hurting anyone here, quite unlike the likes of Windermere and Thacker.

‘Any sign of Teague?’ I ask.

‘Nothing,’ Elle shakes her head.‘Hopefully he just dropped off the worlds and won’t be coming back. I just think his funny his girlfriend turned on him.’

‘Who is this Teague?’ asks Tarquin.

‘A man from our world,’ I reply.‘Troublemaker would be putting it lightly. I’d suggest that if you sense him floating around out there, you leave him by the tree.’

Tarquin looks offended. ‘We would give everyone a chance. No one deserves to be trapped in that place.’

I don’t want to make enemies here, not when I don’t know how to get back, so I keep my mouth shut. Elle appears to follow the same mantra.

We begin up the stone steps to the town hall and start towards a high set of double doors, the only wood I’ve seen here so far.

‘They were made from the tree you arrived by,’ Tarquin explains as we cross the threshold.

‘So has this place always been here?’ I ask. I admire the high stone walls and windows that let light stream in diagonally. It’s like walking between two great galleons with the oars deployed. On the floor are chairs and benches hewn from stone.

‘As far as we know,’ Tarquin says. ‘We’re simple people. We’re glad of the life we have here.’

‘Haven’t you ever wanted to go back?’

Tarquin bows his head. For a second there’s a flicker behind his eyes and I wonder if he’s considered it. ‘We’re simple people here,’ he repeats. ‘A lot of us find it preferable to life in the modern world.’

I look at Elle, searching for some support. Her reply is something different though, more one of warning. I decide to hold my tongue.

‘We have a rule here that if you’re part of the community, you take some part in it.’ He smiles and I know there’s no way of arguing.

All I want to do is find Yates and go home. I don’t even know what to do about Thacker. Will the woman hound us until we or someone stops her? I couldn’t care less about what happened to Teague. I feel a small hole inside me as I realise my favourite author has lost touch with the very subject of her book. I read about Cecily and Roger over and over again and it made me appreciate the small slice of life I had been given. Now I reach death I find that most people have an opposite opinion.

More people file into the hall and get on with their daily business. The place is empty. I wonder does anyone have a possession here. How very human to turn a place that would be a hell to most and turn it into something worth staying for. I try to imagine Graham in a world without material. Nothing to show off with or flaunt his loves in front of everyone who’ll listen.

Maybe it's that which deters me from this place too. I think we're all guilty of loving the things we take for granted in some way.

‘Of course,’ I say. ‘But we want to find our friend too.’

‘Elle has been asking the same since she arrived,’ smiles Sandra. ‘We’ll find him, don’t worry.’

‘What do we have to do with the community?’ I ask.

‘Whatever you like,’ Tarquin says. ‘We have a number of things we do here. Those of use suited to physical labour work in the quarry. Our school here is thriving…’

‘You have a school?’ I chip in.

‘Of course,’ Sandra says. ‘I run it, it’s a beautiful place. You’d be surprised how many people want to continue learning after they arrive here.’

‘Are there children?’ asks Elle. I know what she’s thinking. These would be dead children, their lives gone before their time just like hers.

‘Of course,’ Sandra smiles like it’s the best news she could possibly give. ‘We understand that newcomers might find it strange, we’ve even had people telling us that it’s morbid, that the children don’t know what they’re doing. The ones we’ve shown are always converted though.’

‘How?’ I’m intrigued at the idea that anyone might be. I see the nay-sayers’ point. The children, no matter how they end up here deserve a choice to leave if they want to. But then how do you educate a child on travelling? On the dangers of travelling through the Edge for too long. ‘What exactly do you teach here?’

‘Oh all sorts,’ Sandra replies. ‘We have a thriving literature class, history, all sorts of languages. We find it’s the best way to help children expand their minds.’

‘No science?’ I’m a little disappointed that no one here wants to pass on scientific ideas to the young. Maybe they’re the ones that left? The experimenters, the adventurers. I’ve always loved books from an outsider’s perspective, but does this show the cleft in society between people who stay and people who want to find the next grassy plain?

‘We’ve had a lot of intent,’Sandra says. ‘And rightly so, but our resources are limited here. Science is something that needs to be seen. What we care about here is people and how people survive and how we carry on. We remember the greatest writing and the greatest moments in earth history so well when there are no distractions. It’s let us appreciate things a little more.’

‘What about if children want to leave?’ I venture. Elle shoots me a look. I do regret my words as I say them. I want to get out of here as much as she does. I can’t let things lie. The question was in the air so I asked it.

‘I thought you might ask that,’ Tarquin says. ‘People always do. The answer must be seen, not told. You’ve taken an interest in the school so I think that would be the best place to start for you.’

He waves his hand and we follow him. Elle steps beside me.

‘Why did you ask that?’ she asks in a hushed voice. ‘I’m a little tired of people turning on us.’

‘I only asked a question,’ I reply. ‘I can’t help it.’

Elle frets. ‘I just want to find Yates and get home.’

‘Me too,’ I say. ‘I promise.’

‘Remember when there weren’t crises every few minutes?’ She smiles despite herself. ‘Weren’t they happy days?’

‘Great power, great responsibility,’ I say, wise to the end. Elle nudges me in the side and I push back. We both giggle and try to hide it.

We walk through the streets, past houses and big halls and long tables where people sit, talking quite content. It feels very peaceful here.

‘A lot of people find themselves here and take it as heaven,’ Tarquin says. ‘I’m quite proud of that.’

‘Do you think this is heaven?’ I ask. ‘The heaven at the end of all religion?’

‘I’m not sure what I think,’ he replies. ‘Our way of life might seem a bit hippy for a lot of people, and there are infinite benefits to living here, I’m just happy to have helped make it what it is. To be the one who built the waystation at the end of the line for so many people.’

I look into his face and wonder if a part of him wants to leave too. Is this truly enough for anyone?

‘What were you when you were alive?’ I ask.

‘Believe it or not I wrote travel books.’ He laughs. ‘Ironic that this becomes my calling in life.’

We reach a low building with wide windows on each side. I hear the laughs of a great number of children. It sounds like a happy place. A school in paradise. I’m sure for a lot of people that’s a form of hell.

‘How old are they?’ I ask as we pass through the open archway. ‘The children?’

‘They range from under a year to about twelve. If they want to stay longer they can. We find that after that they can make their own decisions about their lives.’

Elle looks at me with an approving expression on her face. I can’t help but wonder what would happen if this form of schooling existed in the world of the living.

We pass through the archway and into the inside. It seems cooler, despite the lack of any air conditioning or even electricity. The windows are wide to allow the maximum amount of light.

‘It’s strange, before you arrived, we had another arrival who seemed intent on teaching in the school.’ Tarquin leads us through a door on the right. ‘Maybe he’d be the best one to guide you through starting your teaching careers here. He can introduce you to his children and then we can find the best place for you.’

In years to come, I’ll rebuke myself for not seeing this coming. We turn the corner and see a happy class of school children, all directing their attention to the man at the front.

There, with his hair tied back and a wide smile on his face, stands Teague.

 

 

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                We pass through the archway and into the inside. It seems cooler, despite the lack of any air conditioning or even electricity. The windows are wide to allow the maximum amount of light.

                ‘It’s strange, before you arrived, we had another arrival who seemed intent on teaching in the school.’ Tarquin leads us through a door on the right. ‘Maybe he’d be the best one to guide you through starting your teaching careers here. He can introduce you to his children and then we can find the best place for you.’

                In years to come, I’ll rebuke myself for not seeing this coming. We turn the corner and see a happy class of school children, all directing their attention to the man at the front.

                There, with his hair tied back and a wide smile on his face, stands Teague.

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               ‘I thought you might ask that,’ Tarquin says. ‘People always do. The answer must be seen, not told. You’ve taken an interest in the school so I think that would be the best place to start for you.’

                He waves his hand and we follow him. Elle steps beside me.

                ‘Why did you ask that?’ she asks in a hushed voice. ‘I’m a little tired of people turning on us.’

                ‘I only asked a question,’ I reply. ‘I can’t help it.’

                Elle frets. ‘I just want to find Yates and get home.’

                ‘Me too,’ I say. ‘I promise.’

                ‘Remember when there weren’t crises every few minutes?’ She smiles despite herself. ‘Weren’t they happy days?’

                ‘Great power, great responsibility,’ I say, wise to the end. Elle nudges me in the side and I push back. We both giggle and try to hide it.

                We walk through the streets, past houses and big halls and long tables where people sit, talking quite content. It feels very peaceful here.

                ‘A lot of people find themselves here and take it as heaven,’ Tarquin says. ‘I’m quite proud of that.’

                ‘Do you think this is heaven?’ I ask. ‘The heaven at the end of all religion?’

                ‘I’m not sure what I think,’ he replies. ‘Our way of life might seem a bit hippy for a lot of people, and there are infinite benefits to living here, I’m just happy to have helped make it what it is. To be the one who built the waystation at the end of the line for so many people.’

                I look into his face and wonder if a part of him wants to leave too. Is this truly enough for anyone?

                ‘What were you when you were alive?’ I ask.

                ‘Believe it or not I wrote travel books.’ He laughs. ‘Ironic that this becomes my calling in life.’

                We reach a low building with wide windows on each side. I hear the laughs of a great number of children. It sounds like a happy place. A school in paradise. I’m sure for a lot of people that’s a form of hell.

                ‘How old are they?’ I ask as we pass through the open archway. ‘The children?’

                ‘They range from under a year to about twelve. If they want to stay longer they can. We find that after that they can make their own decisions about their lives.’

                Elle looks at me with an approving expression on her face. I can’t help but wonder what would happen if this form of schooling existed in the world of the living.

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                ‘Whatever you like,’ Tarquin says. ‘We have a number of things we do here. Those of use suited to physical labour work in the quarry. Our school here is thriving…’

                ‘You have a school?’ I chip in.

                ‘Of course,’ Sandra says. ‘I run it, it’s a beautiful place. You’d be surprised how many people want to continue learning after they arrive here.’

                ‘Are there children?’ asks Elle. I know what she’s thinking. These would be dead children, their lives gone before their time just like hers.

                ‘Of course,’ Sandra smiles like it’s the best news she could possibly give. ‘We understand that newcomers might find it strange, we’ve even had people telling us that it’s morbid, that the children don’t know what they’re doing. The ones we’ve shown are always converted though.’

                ‘How?’ I’m intrigued at the idea that anyone might be. I see the nay-sayers’ point. The children, no matter how they end up here deserve a choice to leave if they want to. But then how do you educate a child on travelling? On the dangers of travelling through the Edge for too long. ‘What exactly do you teach here?’

                ‘Oh all sorts,’ Sandra replies. ‘We have a thriving literature class, history, all sorts of languages. We find it’s the best way to help children expand their minds.’

                ‘No science?’ I’m a little disappointed that no one here wants to pass on scientific ideas to the young. Maybe they’re the ones that left? The experimenters, the adventurers. I’ve always loved books from an outsider’s perspective, but does this show the cleft in society between people who stay and people who want to find the next grassy plain?

                ‘We’ve had a lot of intent,’ Sandra says. ‘And rightly so, but our resources are limited here. Science is something that needs to be seen. What we care about here is people and how people survive and how we carry on. We remember the greatest writing and the greatest moments in earth history so well when there are no distractions. It’s let us appreciate things a little more.’

                ‘What about if children want to leave?’ I venture. Elle shoots me a look. I do regret my words as I say them. I want to get out of here as much as she does. I can’t let things lie. The question was in the air so I asked it.

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                ‘They were made from the tree you arrived by,’ Tarquin explains as we cross the threshold.

                ‘So has this place always been here?’ I ask. I admire the high stone walls and windows that let light stream in diagonally. It’s like walking between two great galleons with the oars deployed. On the floor are chairs and benches hewn from stone.

                ‘As far as we know,’ Tarquin says. ‘We’re simple people. We’re glad of the life we have here.’

                ‘Haven’t you ever wanted to go back?’

                Tarquin bows his head. For a second there’s a flicker behind his eyes and I wonder if he’s considered it. ‘We’re simple people here,’ he repeats. ‘A lot of us find it preferable to life in the modern world.’

                I look at Elle, searching for some support. Her reply is something different though, more one of warning. I decide to hold my tongue.

                ‘We have a rule here that if you’re part of the community, you take some part in it.’ He smiles and I know there’s no way of arguing.

All I want to do is find Yates and go home. I don’t even know what to do about Thacker. Will the woman hound us until we or someone stops her? I couldn’t care less about what happened to Teague. I feel a small hole inside me as I realise my favourite author has lost touch with the very subject of her book. I read about Cecily and Roger over and over again and it made me appreciate the small slice of life I had been given. Now I reach death I find that most people have an opposite opinion.

                More people file into the hall and get on with their daily business. The place is empty. I wonder does anyone have a possession here. How very human to turn a place that would be a hell to most and turn it into something worth staying for. I try to imagine Graham in a world without material. Nothing to show off with or flaunt his loves in front of everyone who’ll listen.

 

                Maybe it's that which deters me from this place too. I think we're all guilty of loving the things we take for granted in some way.

                ‘Of course,’ I say. ‘But we want to find our friend too.’

                ‘Elle has been asking the same since she arrived,’ smiles Sandra. ‘We’ll find him, don’t worry.’

                ‘What do we have to do with the community?’ I ask.

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                Personally, the idea of living under a baking sun and never seeing the world I love again isn’t my idea of paradise. I wouldn’t dare question Tarquin or his friends though, they’re not hurting anyone here, quite unlike the likes of Windermere and Thacker.

                ‘Any sign of Teague?’ I ask.

                ‘Nothing,’ Elle shakes her head. ‘Hopefully he just dropped off the worlds and won’t be coming back. I just think his funny his girlfriend turned on him.’

                ‘Who is this Teague?’ asks Tarquin.

                ‘A man from our world,’ I reply. ‘Troublemaker would be putting it lightly. I’d suggest that if you sense him floating around out there, you leave him by the tree.’

                Tarquin looks offended. ‘We would give everyone a chance. No one deserves to be trapped in that place.’

                I don’t want to make enemies here, not when I don’t know how to get back, so I keep my mouth shut. Elle appears to follow the same mantra.

                We begin up the stone steps to the town hall and start towards a high set of double doors, the only wood I’ve seen here so far.

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                ‘What have you found out?’ I ask Elle.

                ‘As far as I can tell, this place has always been here,’ Elle says, ‘it exists on the path to the Great Beyond.’

                ‘So it’s real?’

                ‘Well, that’s the question,’ she says. ‘They all believe it is. It’s just the problem, no matter how much you say it, how much are you ever convinced of something, especially something with no proof. Some people choose to go, and they lose their belief, fear sets in and people end up here. They’ve made a pretty good life for themselves to be fair.’

                ‘We make do,’ Tarquin leans over his shoulder. Obviously he’s been listening. ‘As far as we can tell, this world is mostly desert, but we’re filling it. We find quarries and fashion tools. As I’m sure you noticed before, interacting with physical objects is no problem for us. We found a quarry nearby.’ He waves his hands at the lines of buildings and pavements.

                ‘So we’re still ghosts,’ I confirm. The rumble in my stomach disagrees.

                ‘Always,’ Elle says. ‘You just have to learn to accept some facts.’

                ‘Your mind is strong but your will and belief can be stronger if you train it to be. I’m Sandra by the way.’ I shake another hand.

                ‘Tarquin’s the major here.’

                ‘How do you become mayor of a ghost town?’ I ask.

                ‘Vote,’ he smiles. ‘Literally by show of hands. Some people prefer to stay here because they think it’s as close to a Great Beyond as they can get.’

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                ‘So you people bring us across,’ he says. ‘How do you know?’

                ‘When you’re in tune with the Edge you can sense people lost in it, ripples that course to all of us. Some people ignore it of course, but others can do some good with it.’

                ‘Easton,’ Elle says. ‘I think this place is the Edge. It’s the land in between.’

                I marvel at the idea of it. That a whole world could exist alongside our own one. Every time I close my eyes I get a glimpse into it. The universe is wide and confusing, but ultimately, this is wonderful.

                I smile. ‘Where’s Yates?’

                Elle’s face falls. ‘I…um… we haven’t found him yet.’

                My face falls. Tarquin reaches over. ‘Don’t worry yourself, everyone turns up eventually.’ He notices that my face doesn’t change much. ‘Seriously, we rarely let anyone slip through our fingers, unless they choose to leave themselves.’

                ‘Come,’ says the woman. ‘We’ll find you lodgings. We’ll find your friend.’

                The crowd parts to let us through. Occasionally someone stops me and shakes my hand, or claps me on the back. Of everything I’ve experienced so far, this is the strangest.

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Chapter Twenty-Eight

                ‘Welcome to the Doldrums, Easton!’ says a voice to my left.

                Suddenly the thousands of smiling faces make me a little uncomfortable. I’m not sure I like all their eyes on me.

                The man wears a wide brimmed hat and a long robe. His beard is thick and black and his eyes stare at me from the edge of the fabric, warm and excited.

                ‘I’m Tarquin,’ he says.

                ‘Don’t call it the Doldrums, Tarquin, that’s so miserable,’ a woman nudges him. ‘We can call it what we like here, we’re not all miseries.’

                I notice the ring of buildings around us and notice we’re in a village square. The same village square I saw the ruins of. The well I died in stands tall and proud to my left. The town hall, complete with pillars and shining windows is behind them.

                There’s a parting of the ways and a pink ball of excitement tumbles towards me. She catches me in a bearhug and I feel the pull as she tries to lift me off the ground.

                ‘Easton!’ Elle says into my shoulder.

                ‘Elle!’ I say. ‘How did you get here?’

                ‘Same way you did,’ she says, setting me down. ‘The singing, lifting me out of the desert. A doctor led me here, it was Tarquin.’ She smiles at him.

Box Set - Chapter Twenty-Seven

My reappearance at this starting point confirms one thing for me. I’m not alive. I’m dead but somewhere else. And if that’s true, it means I still have some control over myself here. If I’ve been stripped of all the powers I had, then what do I have left. If I’m dead, that means I can’t feel hunger or tiredness or heat. So the discomfort is an illusion. The same way that the skeleton in the well can’t have been real.

I’m reminded of being trapped in my memories with Teague. All I need to do is find a way out.

I start off into the desert again. The same thoughts run through my head at my command. I am dead. I can feel no heat. I feel no hunger or thirst. This place isn’t real.

Does that mean it’s constructed by Thacker? She said she wanted to know about the Great Beyond but how much can I trust her. And where are my friends? Are they in this desert somewhere? Or do they have worlds constructed just for them.

I bend to the ground. The hot sand runs through my fingers. It certainly feels real. I bat my fingers clean and rub my fingertips to let the sand out from under my fingernails. I walk in what I think is a different direction this time. Maybe there’ll be something else, another town or some form of civilisation.

I pant as I climb a sand dune. It’s hard to remind myself the place isn’t real when the ache sets into my chest.

I reach the crest and slide down the other side.

There. Low and behold, on the horizon is a patch of green in the sea of yellow. An oasis out here in the desert. I quicken my pace and do my best to ignore my limbs failing with the exertion. What feels like lactic acid builds in my thighs and my stomach. Part of me relishes it. For a year my limbs have been everlasting, not touched by the physicality of the world. This feels like waking up.

Before long, my tired feet step off the sand and onto a patch of cool grass. Excited, I flop to the ground and rip my shoes off. I make fists with my toes, tearing the grass out of the earth. It feels cool and wonderful. I laugh. Out here in the desert, dying of hunger and thirst, I laugh and I feel alive.

I crawl forwards, to the side of a clear, wide pool of water surrounded by palm trees. I dip my hands in and take deep gulps of fresh water. It’s ice cold and I’m not sure how or why. The discrepancy is easy to ignore and I continue drinking.

Soon enough I start to feel sick so I’m forced to stop.

I sit back and take stock of my new surroundings. The oasis solves my need for water but the question of food is still a bit one. As much as I try and convince myself I don’t need it, my stomach growls with the need for sustenance.

I feel quite helpless all of a sudden. I absent minded claw at the grass beside me. I feel a gust of wind. For a second it’s glorious. After a few seconds though, it picks up. The sand kicks up and blusters towards me.

I try to stand, but as soon as I do, I get buffeted in the face. I can’t stand the feeling of sand in my eyes and mouth so I splutter and hit the floor.

Staying close to the ground isn’t much respite. I cry out as it begins to howl around me and the sand blots out the sun.

I clasp my hands over my head and close my eyes, waiting for the desert to take me.

I hear the vultures before I open my eyes and I know I’ve returned. The sun, the tree, the sand, the birds. Every time I find something, the desert strikes out at me like a scorpion under attack.

I don’t understand. Is this what I’m to be subjected to forever, walking and finding a shred of hope, only to be returned to this starting point?

‘What do you want?’ I shout to no one.

‘What do any of us want?’ says a familiar voice.

I turn around and jerk back with shock. Benjamin sits there, in a brown suit and a cane. He sits at the red seat of a London bus stop, rising from the sand right where the tree had been.

‘Hello, Easton,’ he says with a smile.

‘What are you doing here?’

                I step back, startled and point my finger at him as though this simple act will protect me from harm. Usually sight of Benjamin wouldn’t scare me. I have memories of a hundred games of chess in Central Park. Here, in this unknown place, I know that the man isn’t Benjamin, so his resemblance sets an unease within me.

                ‘I’m here to help,’ he says.

                The voice sounds so much like him I’m almost fooled into believing it.

                I take a step towards the bus stop. In three more I’m by its side. I reach out and touch the pole showing bus times. It’s gritty to touch, like its stood here forever.

                ‘This can’t be real,’ I say. ‘None of it.’

                ‘This place is as real as you want it to be,’ Benjamin replies. ‘The same as the afterlife at any stage.’

                ‘What are you saying? That the whole of last year was in my head?’

                ‘Sit down with me, Easton.’ He pats the bench beside him.

                ‘What and the bus shelter collapses and I die? Or you pull a knife out of your cane and you stab me in the chest? I’ve not been here long but I get the gist. Things appear, I die. I’d rather stand here and be careful.’

                ‘What is dying?’ Benjamin muses. He digs into the sand with his cane, drawing a circle through the grains.

                ‘Don’t go all philosophical on me,’ I plead.

                ‘I’m not philosophical, I’m asking, what is dying?’

                ‘When your body gives up on life,’ I say. ‘When your organs stop functioning and your brain switches off.’

                ‘And let me ask you, as a spirit, do you have any of these things?’

                ‘Well I’m not very spiritual at the moment,’ I retort. ‘I’m hungry and thirsty and I don’t know why?’

                ‘Because you think you’re alive. As humans, we always have a choice. This place is a choice. It’s a choice between living, dying and staying stuck in the hell that lies between.’

                ‘So it’s purgatory?’

                Benjamin chuckles. ‘We do like adding labels to things don’t we. Purgatory or a purgatory of sorts must exist in the minds of men because very few of us are wholly good or completely evil. So we cannot justify us being fast-tracked to a heaven or hell. I’m not sure anyone knows what this place truly is, but the ones who stay here are the ones who are happy to exist at this eternal bus station, waiting for a bus that will never come and take them away.’

                ‘Why won’t they?’ I ask. ‘I know I don’t want to stay here forever.’

                ‘Then you are a brave one,’ he replies. ‘Not all of us are so lucky. People fear the abyss. That place where we’re no one and no one knows us. Not existing is the epitome of the unknown. We all have that fear. I know you have it too.’

                ‘I do, but I also fear being stuck, like this place. Why do I keep dying?’

                ‘Because you believe this place can hurt you.’

                I consider the possibility. Is it plausible that I could stroll through this desert as though I were a spirit? Despite how hungry I am, and the thirst, and the burn of the sun on the back of my neck, could I really just walk on? Impervious to everything that could harm me? The idea reminds me of Windermere, and here ghosts who feel no pain. I swore not to be like them, to cling to the ounce of life I’d been allowed to retain.

                ‘But is life the ability to feel pain?’

                ‘You’re reading my thoughts,’ I notice. ‘How did you do that?’

                Benjamin holds his hands out as if I should already know the answer.

                ‘You’re me?’ I suggest. ‘I’ve created you with my mind? Maybe the heat has got to me.’

                ‘Consider that I am part of you, how does that explain my knowing facts about this place? You’re clever, Easton, but not psychic.’

                I look into his smiling brown eyes. I should know the answer, it’s staring me in the face but I can’t get there. It is very hot.

                ‘I’ve connected with you,’ he explains. ‘Benjamin was the man who helped you when you left the world of the living, so that’s the image your mind has made me. You can’t see me if you’ve never seen me before. Yet I’m here so your mind fills in the blanks.’

                ‘So you’re here but you’re not here,’ I say. ‘Wonderful.’

                ‘I can’t be there in person because this world won’t allow it, you are in a state of flux because you haven’t chosen to come over yet. All I can do is offer you the options.’

                ‘If I cross over to you, can I come back? Will I see my world again?’

                ‘That, I cannot tell you.’ He sighs. ‘I am one of those who stayed. Rooted to the ground by fear of the leap of faith. People have left us here but I can’t say where they went. If they went onto something better, or they fell into that dark abyss.’

                ‘Are my friends there with you?’

                ‘If you could see how many stay in these doldrums, you’d understand why I couldn’t answer that.’

                I look at the man who’s only half here. I have to go, surely? I have to learn more about this new place, these doldrums, or else I’ll be stuck in this place forever, drowning in the heat of a never setting sun.

                ‘How do I cross?’ I ask, coming to a decision. ‘I can’t stay here. I have to find my friends.’

                ‘It’s quite simple,’ he says. ‘You can close your eyes and open them at our front gate.’

                ‘I haven’t been able to do that since I came here,’ I say.

                ‘It’s the trick of this world,’ he explains. ‘There is no anchor, nothing to remind you of where you are, only that tree. The dead tree where we all start. Our mind tries to escape, creates paths and small moments of salvation, but with every try, your world shrinks. The edges of the map close around you.’

                ‘Then what anchors me? How do I find you?’

                ‘You’ll know it when you find it,’ he says and he smiles. ‘When you find it, hold on tight and don’t let go.’

                And he’s gone before I can say another word and the bus stop along with him.

                The desert suddenly appears to have raised some degrees. Maybe it can sense my escape and will put up a last fight to keep me.

                I begin to feel the winds of an approaching sandstorm again. I panic and can only see the dead tree. I walk around it, searching the horizon for some sign. A town, a tower, a tree blooming with life, anything that could signify an end to this misery.

                That’s when I hear it. A low rumbling. At first I think it’s a swarm of locusts, come to fly over me and pick my bones clean like a stalk of grain. I look for shelter and can’t see any. I try to remember which direction the town with the well was, but every direction looks the same.

                Then, the low rumble changes pitch and returns again. It’s a low note, changing and then returning to the base line. It’s music.

                People are singing. Low voices. Another set of voices join them in harmony. I can’t make out what language they’re singing in, but the untold beauty of their voices combined together settles me.

                The wind picks up. With it I can feel grains of sand flicking around my skin and threatening to blind me.

                I close my eyes and listen to the music. The resonance of their voices flows through me. I can feel the music. The vibrations course through me, and then I can see them, like waves and fireworks and explosions in the blackness behind my eyes.

                ‘I can see you!’ The words escape my mouth before I can stop them. I laugh and spread my arms out. The waves become clearer and I feel a pull as I’m caught between them. I’m in a riptide and I’m happy to let it carry me away.

                This time I don’t open my eyes. The world comes into focus from the blackness. The waves become lines and in them is a crowd of people. A thousand heads look at me, and soon my eyes begin to water. I blink and the new world comes into focus. A new world born of music and the edge of darkness when I close my eyes.