Chapter 36
Doncaster Road, Southmead
7.52 p.m.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” exclaimed Markland.
“Please, not tonight of all nights.”
“Bastards!” grunted Howie.
“How could they have started it, you still have your keys?” asked Jodie.
“They must have hotwired it.”
They stood in torrential rain and considered what to do next.
“Let’s make our way to Southmead Road, take cover from the rain and decide what to do.”
They ran through the lashing downpour, hid beneath a bus stop on the main road and discussed their options.
“Let’s get a taxi back to Howie’s,” suggested Jodie.
They searched their pockets for change, and between them had just over twelve pounds.
“That’s not enough,” said Markland. “Wait here, I’ll get some cash from the ATM over there.”
He ran across the road dodging the traffic. The raindrops eased off. He pulled his bank card from his wallet and put it in the machine. He waited for the ATM to ask for his PIN, but instead his card was rejected. The screen displayed a message telling him to contact the card issuer.
“Shit!”
He pulled another card from his wallet and tried again. Just like the first one, his other cash card was also rejected displaying the same message. He jogged back to the bus stop.
“I can’t get any cash out. There’s a problem with my bank.”
“I’ve not brought my wallet with me,” shrugged Howie.
Jodie put her hand in her coat and pulled out her purse.
”It’s okay, I can cover it.”
Howie and Markland watched Jodie gingerly make her across the busy road. She stood at the ATM for what seemed a very long time, before returning to the bus shelter.”
“It won’t take mine either, what the hell’s happening?”
“Faulty machine?” suggested Howie.
“I don’t think so,” replied Markland, pointing to a man who had been waiting behind Jodie. They watched him pull a wad of notes from the machine and place them in his wallet.
“I think we’ve got enough for three Day Rider tickets. We’ll have to get back to Howie’s by bus and I can drive you home from there,” said Jodie.
Markland flagged down the next bus that came along.
“What a night,” sighed Howie.
“Hang on, how are we going to get into your house. You’ve lost your keys in the woods,” asked Markland.
“I’ve a spare hidden in the back garden for just such an event.”
“What were you saying about the monument by the burial mound, you said it had gone?” asked Jodie.
“Shit, I’d forgotten about that, sorry. Yeah, the metal thing with the poem on, it’s not there.”
“Are you sure?” frowned Markland.
“Of course I’m sure. It’s big enough not to miss.”
“What the hell is going on?” asked Howie.
During the journey back to Howie’s they discussed the events of the evening.
“So what happened to you?” asked Howie, referring to when Jodie had sat upon the hill.
“She was in the Hall of Akashic Records,” replied Markland.
“The hall of what records?”
“Akashic records,” repeated Markland. “Why don’t you tell Howie what you saw?”
Jodie told Howie of what had happened. Markland chipped in with the odd remark here and there, as he’d witnessed exactly what she’d seen.”
“So you saw James. Did he seem okay?” enquired Howie.
“I tried to speak to him, but I don’t think he knew I was there.”
“What do you think he was writing?”
“He was re-writing his Akashic record,” interrupted Markland.
“What does that mean?” asked Jodie.
“Akashic records are something I’d read about, but I’ve never considered them to be real, until now.”
Howie and Jodie looked at him in silence, urging him to continue.
“Every event in our lives is recorded in an Akashic record. Everything you’ve ever done and everything you will ever do, has already been decided.”
“Sorry Markland, I don’t believe that can be real, because if it is, it goes against the many-worlds theory.”
“Why would it? Surely each parallel world would have its own Hall of Akashic Records.”
Jodie nodded.
“As I’ve just said, I didn’t think such a thing could be, but now I’ve witnessed what Jodie has seen, I think it’s likely that Akashic records do exist.”
“But what does it all mean? What was James writing?” asked Jodie.
“He was re-writing his past, which will affect his future. I’ve read that if a person can access their Akashic record, they can change the path of their future.”
“I know what he was doing,” said Howie in a sombre voice. “He was re-writing his past. He must have scrubbed out the affair he had when he was married to Helena, and he’s given himself a clean slate.”
“I think you may be right,” said Markland.
“And in doing so, he’s somehow shifted to the parallel world where James Trafford made the decision not to have an affair,” added Jodie.
“Or, perhaps he’s now in a parallel world where he didn’t get found out?” added Howie.
They sat on the bus in silence, taking in the gravity of the situation. If what they’d discovered was correct, it meant that the hill had revealed something just as remarkable as it had done when it had proved that life continues beyond death.
“What should we do next?” asked Jodie.
“Sorry to bring us back to earth with a bump, but shouldn’t you report the theft of your car?” suggested Howie.
Markland nodded. He had almost forgotten about his beloved car. He pulled out his phone and called 101.
“Shit!” muttered Markland.
“What now?” huffed Jodie.
Markland didn’t answer, but continued to fiddle with his smartphone.
“I can’t get a line, there’s a problem with the network.”
“Is it broken, perhaps it’s full of rain water?” asked Howie.
“No, I don’t think so, it’s picking up the Wi-Fi from the bus, so it must be okay. It must be the network, I’ll call from my landline when I get home.”
Howie stood up and rang the bell.
“This is us, my house is a five-minute walk from the bus stop,” said Howie, as the bus turned the corner.