Time After Time

“Tom!” Someone was shaking him. His head pounded as he rolled over and curled up shivering.

A deluge of rain poured from the dark skies, soaking him to the skin.

“Wake up Tom! Are you okay?”

“There’s blood.”

A torch shone in his face. It was so cold; his clothes clung to his body. There was something important. He was so tired. He closed his eyes.

“Don’t go back to sleep! You have to stay awake.”

“He might have concussion.

Sophie was always shaking him awake first thing on Saturday morning, trying to drag him out for a hike. He preferred to lie in bed as long as possible.

Sophie, there was something about Sophie. Then he remembered.

“Where’s Sophie?”

Tom tried to sit up. Pain seared through his head. He was lying in a pile of mud.

“She was behind you,” said Pete. “She’s fast for an eleven year old. I consider myself an athlete but even I couldn’t keep up.”

Kate and Pete shouted her name. They called out for a few minutes, and fell silent, listening for a reply. None came. Tom tried to climb to his feet, his body aching.

“Sit down,” said Kate. “You keep the torch and leave it on, so we can find you again. Pete and I will and search for her. Pete, you head that way. Here Tom, take my coat.”

Kate pulled off her thick winter coat and draped it over Tom’s shoulders.

“Thanks,” he said. “It could have been a dream but I saw Sophie. She was with someone. I need to help....” He stood but his head span. He sank to the floor again.

“Don’t worry mate,” Pete said. “You’re in no state for this. Sit. We’ll find her.”

Kate said she would follow their route back to the Plantation gates. She would check the ground in case Sophie had fallen and was lying injured. Pete headed off in opposite direction towards the town centre.

Tom heard them shouting for Sophie. Their voices grew fainter until their calls echoed in the distance along the valley. Left alone, Tom panicked. He was supposed to be looking after Sophie. Where was she? He had brought her out here on a dark night. This was his fault.

“Sophie!” He shouted. He listened, hunched over but there was not a sound.

Fifteen minutes later, the rain had stopped. Tom managed to stand without his head spinning. He flicked on the torch and examined his immediate surroundings, focusing the torch on the floor. There was no sign of her.

Tom was wondering how long the others would be gone when Kate appeared. She shook her head. They sat on the incline and waited for Pete to return. “It’s strange,” said Kate. “This place is all wrong. I walked a couple of miles and didn’t recognise a thing. I couldn’t find the main path or the plantation gates. It’s dark I know but still...”

“Did you see the green mist? When I ran into the mist, something knocked me off my feet.”

“We all were. I looked for it now but couldn’t see it.”

“I was sure we were heading towards town,” said Tom. “There’s something else too, I noticed it while I was sat waiting for you. Listen...”

They both fell silent. There was nothing but a mute stillness, not even the usual hum of distant traffic.

A few minutes later Pete returned alone.

“Let’s try to find our way back to the gates together,” said Kate. “There’s a phone box on the lane. We need a proper search party.”

They set off, climbing the slope. At the top, they tried to remember which way they had come. They walked for an hour and could not identify a single landmark. Another hour and Tom sank to his knees in frustration.

“Where the hell are we?”

He ran his hand through his hair and flinched. His head was sore.

“Let’s rest for a while,” said Pete. “I’m knackered.”

They found a spot with a thick canopy overhead, which had kept the thick bed of leaves dry. They lay side by side.

“We should take turns watching,” said Kate. “I’ll take the first shift.”

Tom awoke coughing. The sun was up. Nearby a jackdaw blinked at him, cawed and flew away. Both Kate and Pete were still asleep. He shook them awake. They climbed to their feet without speaking and trudged through the sodden landscape.

They pushed through a field of long grass and walked to the left, following a natural path up a hill away from the woods. It was not much further to the top. From there they had a clear view of the surrounding area.

They could see for miles in every direction. Acres of empty countryside surrounded them. In the distance was the hazy outline of the Pennines.

“Look,” said Kate.

All three peered in the direction she was pointing.

“Haigh Hall should be there,” said Tom. “What is it?”

They all stared at the spot where a sandstone manor house had stood since the 1830s. In its place, at the edge of a flooded plain, was a large black and white timber framed building. It had a peculiar top-heavy appearance, with the second floor wider than the ground floor. The shimmering waters further distorted its elongated reflection.

Another heavy bout of coughing erupted.

“You need to get into some dry clothes,” said Kate, turning to Tom. He stood in silence contemplating the strange house. The coughing came again and they all turned to see a man watching them from a few yards away. He wore a long green tunic with a floppy bag-like hat on his head. His skin was filthy as though he had never had a bath, or even washed. Matted hair hung to his shoulders. Sores and scabs covered his bare arms.

“Toto,” said Pete. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”