Elysium. Part One. Read Free Page A

Kelly’s wake fearing they would be caught in a downpour, though a few remained drinking, and Tom Barnaby – hoping to lift the sentiment of the day - played his fiddle merrily whilst sitting on the long-decayed snooker table.
      All the curtains were drawn tight, the solar lamps burned brightly, and the storm, nothing more than a shadow far out at sea, would give them little trouble.
      Tom came to the finale of his piece, and lay the fiddle down. He picked up his pint and took a large swig, half of which disappeared in his copious moustache. He placed the tankard down with an exaggerated burp and listened in on a conversation between Betty Longshank, the resident handywoman, and John Summer.
      She said: ‘It weren’t no cat I tell you, I know a cat as when I see one,’
      ‘At two in the morning? Tell, me then, what was it?’
      ‘Were a dog. A dog as big as a man!’
      John said nothing, but raised his brow as he sipped his drink.
      ‘It was!’ Betty insisted, reacting to his incredulity.
      ‘And who around here owns a big dog?’
      ‘A dog as big as a man.’ Tom Barnaby corrected.
      ‘Ferk off, the both of yer! I ain’t saying it belonged to anyone.’ Betty glowered across the room, ‘Could of been wild, couldn’t it?’
      ‘Not likely,’ John said, finishing his pint and standing to leave. ‘It was probably old Corbin stumbling home from the pub.’
      Aside from Kelly’s burial, there was nothing special about that particular Thursday. It was the same as the week before, when James Little stubbed his toe on the pub steps, and had to have it plastered, or the fortnight before, when Samantha Waeshenbach announced the readiness of her tomatoes. It was a quiet village, and no outside influence had affected them for near a century.
    *
      Ted Corbin had given up his vigil of stargazing, the clouds had choked the patch of sky he’d been watching, and the few stars that remained were being veiled by the slowly advancing storm front.
      He sipped his coffee and stood - Breaker jumped and retreated, wagging his tail again. ‘No, boy,’ Ted warned, ‘I already fed you, now get back inside an’ let’s not have so much of it!’ Breaker blinked and whined, and then turned, tentatively stepping back towards the door and into the lighthouse.
      Ted sighed, and tipped the remainder of his drink over the railings, watching the wind whip the drops away as they fell. A flash in his periphery distracted him, and he looked out to sea. Thunder lazily rolled in the air, and another flare of lightning whisked the dark clouds with blossoms of pink and yellow.
      As he watched the random lightning and listened to the emphatic thunder, he caught sight of a flicker of lights – electric lights - far away, almost touching the horizon.
      His heart leapt, and he backed slowly to the door.

Chapter Two.
     
    South-easterly wind.
     
    Twenty-two knots.
     
     
     
     
     
     
      Selina woke with the cool air on her face. She was exhausted.
      She felt cold and uneasy. Something was wrong, though she searched her memory and couldn’t think of anything to cause it. Her insides were knotted, her lobes pounded, and her teeth felt as though they had been grinding all night. Something was definitely wrong.
      Her joints groaned as she stirred, and for a moment she wondered why she had been allowed to sleep all night on deck. Why had no-one woken her?
     Roused by waves and the caw of seagull in the bright sky, she rolled her eyes and opened them. Salt pricked her vision and she closed them immediately. A few minutes more sleep wouldn’t hurt.
      A minute or so passed, she watched the bright blood of her eyelids in the dawn. Again she slowly opened them; the light breaking into kaleidoscopic rainbows on her eyelashes.
      A sudden realisation struck her, as did the comprehension as to why nothing felt right: she wasn’t on a lounger on deck, the monotonous roll of the ship was missing. She was