Earthbound by Chris Bradbury

Author:Chris Bradbury [Bradbury, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chris Bradbury
Published: 2016-03-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Charlie awoke with a start. He had fallen asleep in the armchair and his left arm was numb from the way he had been lying on it. He massaged it back to life, stretching his legs.

Memories of the previous night seeped into his mind, but he could not figure out whether it had been a dream or if it had all been real.

His mind felt clouded, as if he had been in a dreadful state of limbo for the past forty-eight hours, like one of those dreams that at the time are so real and, upon waking the dreamer has to think very hard about whether or not it had in fact been real. He looked around the room for clues, anything that might make sense. Nothing sprang to sight.

The early morning light crept in through a crack in the curtains. He stood up and drew them back, blinking as the brightness hit his eyes, opening the window to let in fresh air.

The streets below bustled with life. Housewives on their way to town, shopping lists folded neatly into their little red purses, trolleys dragging behind them, empty now, but soon to be filled with small elements that gave away a personality that never normally showed from behind their four secretive walls. Dustmen, cheerfully whistling their way down the street, carted away the debris from the sanctity of the dustbin. Charlie had always found it odd how people were always so possessive about the things they had thrown away, that they had, by the very act of throwing away, disowned them and yet, should somebody or something dare to go near the consecrated ground of the wheelie bin, it was cause for social warfare.

Then there was the postman, slipping warily through the gates, forever on the watch for the two-foot shin-eater that yapped its way through material, flesh and shinbone, but even he kept up a smile in the face of such everyday adversity.

Everything seemed normal. No atom bomb had fallen during the night. There had been no exodus from this Promised Land, no day of judgement. It was all as boring as ever.

He moved away from the window, put a tea bag into a well-stained mug and switched the kettle on.

Grabbing a towel, he went to the sink and filled it to the brim, the water erring to the cold side, and stuck his head into it. He washed the sleep from his eyes, pressing the water from his hair and towelling himself.

As he combed his hair into place, he wondered how he could find out about the events of the night before, how he could verify them.

In the cold light of day, it all seemed so absurd. He’d had dreams before that had taken those first steps into wakefulness with him and had needed to lie there for a moment to allow the buffer of reality to catch up.

When he was little, he dreamed that he had ten pence in his hand. Back then, that was a Sunday afternoon of Fruit salads and Black Jacks.

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