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READ ON FOR A SAMPLE OF ‘SECOND LIFE’

Chapter Three

Popsy and I are playing cards by candle-light in the kitchen. Our small table has a sheet serving as a tablecloth because Hope is underneath, pretending she’s in a fort. I can see her torchlight but it barely moves as she uses it to read. I am careful not to move my feet. Even though it is late, neither Popsy nor I can sleep and there is no bedtime for Hope tonight. I doubt anyone in town is sleeping. I think of Enzo sitting alone in his house, in the dark. I do my best to focus on the game but Popsy wins yet another hand.

There are two blankets folded neatly on one of the chairs beside me. Every so often I steal a glance at them. A book lands on my toes and Hope’s arms wrap around one of my legs. I put my cards down and place a hand on her head, stroking her hair.

“It’s happening,” Popsy says unnecessarily. I hear it, a low droning hum that gets louder as it gets closer. I reach across the table and watch as Popsy’s large, gnarled hands engulf mine. When the house shudders at the foundations I hear Hope whimper and she climbs onto my lap. I hold her close as she clings to me, hiding her face in the hollow of my neck.

Above the hum I hear a different noise. A light flashes past the window at speed, a high pitched whining travels along with it. It is the leader for a large group that follow and soon all we can hear are the shrieks that accompany them as they whizz past, lighting up our kitchen in flashes. They are so loud that I barely hear Hope’s sobs but I can feel her body shaking as I hold her, and her tears as they fall on my skin. I want to wrap her under the blankets but they are not for her. She will have to settle for my embrace.

When I think the shrieking lights have passed there is one left to prove me wrong, at the back of the pack. I wonder the same thing as I do every time they come; are they sentient? Do they know what they are doing, where they are going? Or are they lifeless scouts?

Then comes the silent blue light, the one that washes over our rooftops like something above is searching for us. The silence would be complete if not for Hope’s sniffles. She is trying to be quiet so we can listen. There are no dogs barking, no distant lowing of cows or clucking of chickens. The window reveals nothing… nothing… nothing… then blue light fills the glass. When it disappears we know it is almost over.

The last sets of lights are worst. They are what we wait the longest for. A beacon enters through our window and throws a ring of light on the kitchen cabinets. I feel both Popsy and Hope tense and my grasp on them tightens. The ring disappears and we wait a little longer. When the clock’s minute hand circles halfway around, I release Popsy’s hand and stand with Hope in my arms. Once she is deposited onto Popsy’s lap, I go to the window.

There is nothing to see. The street is dark and the silence complete. When I hear a dog’s mournful howl in the distance I know the show is over. They don’t come every time, but when they do, it is always during a new moon. I see some of the porch lights turn on and reach across to add mine. Behind me Popsy asks Hope for help to plug everything back in and she agrees enthusiastically. She has already recovered.

I am thinking about stepping out onto the front porch when I first see him. Outside it is dark but the porch lights across the street reveal his silhouette. He is walking slowly and I know he is confused. I know he is distressed and traumatised. I know this because I have gone through this myself, many years ago. I hurry to the blankets and grab them in my arms, cradling them before I go outside. I am running to him and I can see others coming out of their homes and racing towards him as well but I am the first to reach him.

In my haste to cover his nudity I drop one of the blankets. I can smell him when I reach around his shoulders; he smells like a newborn infant. It is something that both comforts and horrifies me but my horror lessens when I meet his wide, terrified eyes. I feel myself transported back in time, feeling what he feels. My empathy heightens as he wraps the blanket more firmly around himself.

“You’ll be okay,” I tell him. My words are genuine because he is safe now and even though I don’t expect an answer from him, he gives me one.

“Thank you.”

More street lights blaze on, chasing away the shadows. I see that he is younger than I am. His dark hair is a curly mop atop his head but his eyes are very light. The effect is striking. He holds eye contact with me even though there are now a half dozen people around us. I touch his shoulder and he smiles at me. Nobody has behaved this way upon arrival. We were all scared and frustrated and angry.

“Where am I?” he asks. There are a few responses but because he keeps looking at me, I add mine.

“You’re home.”

I remember these words being said to me by a kind old man. I break eye contact with our newest arrival to see Enzo nearby. I am still hurt by his words to me earlier today though I can’t properly define why. It is easier to look away. Someone has picked up the second blanket because it is no longer on the street.

I feel a strong hand grip mine and look into lovely clear eyes again.

“I don’t know my name,” he tells me. The welcoming committee have already begun to step away from us, giving him space because a connection is being made. It has been a long time since someone has selected me. I don’t know if I can do it again but I already know this time will be different.

“You should rest now,” I tell him. It will be strange having him in my home but I have managed before and can do so again. Enzo distracts me by drawing close to us and I look at him, annoyed. I am surprised by the stern expression on his face but it softens before it is seen by anyone else but me.

“I have a spare room,” Enzo says.

I want to argue this change in strategy but the silence of everyone around us tells me they wish not to interfere further. Enzo has broken protocol and I don’t know what to do. My indecision causes the stranger to draw closer to me which makes up my mind.

“Enzo will look after you.”

As much as I want to form a new connection, I understand the obligations that come with it will only weigh me down.