DV’s Extracts

CHAPTER ONE

The Disappearance

The day he disappeared, Richard was cold, wet and determined to move onward with his life. He looked up at the grey clouds. A gentle drizzle fell, forming droplets on his nose and trickled down ruddy cheeks. Long fingers combed back dark unruly hair, and turned up his collar against the wind. His eyes followed the long road to the horizon. Ignoring the chill that seeped into his bones through the well-worn duffel coat, he continued his loping strides north east towards the sun.

***

The road ahead divided a multitude of green and brown paddocks as far as the eye could see. In them, scattered groups of cattle and sheep continued their grazing, disinterested in the lone hiker passing by. Trees stood in random clumps about the slopes, occasionally converging at a dam like schoolboys around a fight.

The incline ahead became steeper and Richard had to strain against the wind. Clouds hung low concealing the crest of the next hill. This didn’t worry him greatly until he noticed flickering lights from within the cloud. With thoughts of a possible accident, maybe a couple of trucks having collided in the poor light, he hurried to investigate.

Suddenly, he was in the cloud. As the grey mass completely enveloped him he felt disorientated, unable to focus clearly on what was happening around him. Perhaps there were shapes moving about; featureless figures moving towards him, Richard began to shout, but the cloud swallowed the sound itself. The ground was moving, or was he?

The grey cloud lifted and rose rapidly upwards. The rain continued to gently drizzle down on the road. Nothing could be heard except the whistling of the wind in the treetops. Only the cattle in a nearby paddock saw the cloud come and go. They blinked large dull eyes at the rain.

No one on Earth knew he had gone.

Dual Visions – excerpt -

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Family debate – Sal

It had been a balmy day and a light breeze had come with the evening shadows. The windows and doors were open throughout the Davidson home. Evening in the kitchen was always hectic yet orderly. The long ornate wooden table was being laid for the last meal of the day. Sal joined the group of siblings and cousins as they set an assortment of salads and vegetables along the center. Davrew put two trays of sliced bread at either end of the table. Richard added two large jugs of fruit juices stacked with ice cubes.

“Looks like a full house,” Richard grinned.

Only two members were missing. Gem, the second eldest sibling, was in town, as was often the case. Tam, the next born after Sal, was absent also. Off yet again on some obscure archaeological dig overseas. His younger, cousins, Fee, Lar and Mia were loading plates and juggling glasses filled with the refreshing juice.

“We’ll eat outside on the verandah,” Mia was their spokesman, “Miri said we had permission as long as it’s alright with you.”

“Of course,” Davrew agreed.

* * * *

Richard nodded and looked up at Sal. “You’re not eating with us again tonight?”

“No, I’ll just take these with me and eat with Sim.” Then turning towards his twin offspring added. “Saz and Skye, I’ll be down soon to tuck you in bed. Behave now, won’t you?” The two children looked up as though they were two angelic cherubs. Sal sighed while lifting the food-laden tray. “Let me know if they cause any trouble, won’t you?” The twins were imps and his plea to his parents, their grandparents, was genuine.

“We will,” Davrew grinned.

The twins were now five-year-old tear aways. They had been born in the first year after Sim’s arrival in 1988 without trouble or torment. The fact no more children had been conceived until now did not seem important.

Sal was fit, having been active all through life with gardening, hiking, planting and tending the market garden and orchard for the family. Now his body was weary. While making his way up the stairs Sal recalled the very first time he

met Sim. They spent hours together at Sim’s family home in France, the third born to Andre and Rimi. They’d immediately taken to each other. Even the tenderness of their first kiss flooded his frayed senses. Concern for his partner weighed him down.

Sim sat motionless on a chair on the balcony as Sal placed the tray on the table nearby. “Here you are my love, a delicious bowl of soup with your favourite herb bread.” Sal knew the jovial manner sounded false. How to change his demeanour was a real problem. Sim turned slowly towards the tray and smiled briefly, acknowledging the offering.

“I’m not very hungry, darling, but I’ll try.” Sal removed the lid of the bowl as Sim began to fumble with the spoon. “Tell me what’s happening downstairs while I eat.”

He did until Sim spoke softly. “So the debate goes on with no tangible result.”

“Darling, please eat up. You haven’t had a sip and it’ll be going cold.” Sal chided gently. Sim did manage to swallow a few mouthfuls of soup before asking for the tray to be removed.

Bon passed Sal at the bottom of the stairs and inspected the tray. “Sim hasn’t had much of that,” the doctor remarked dryly. “I’ll check on your partner now before going to bed. Don’t be long about getting some sleep yourself, Sal. You

look beat.”

“Yes, Doctor Bon,” Sal chanted impishly at Bon’s pointed finger. The younger children often did this in torment of their family members. Bon smiled broadly and bounded up the stairs. Sal cleaned up and checked on the twins, who were

sleeping soundly, before heading up to rejoin Sim. Bon was still there when he walked into the room.

Sim lay comfortably in bed while Bon checked vital signs, and made sure the unborn child was in no distress. “The baby will be here very soon. I think Sim will need some time to recover. This has certainly been a troublesome pregnancy.”

“You’re telling me?” Sal smiled gratefully at Bon. “Thanks for dropping in. I’m sure everything will be fine when the baby is born.”

“Maybe,” Bon murmured, wondering how much more could be said, when fears and intuition were not really borne out by facts.

“Maybe nothing,” Sal retorted cheekily. “You are the third born pessimist and I’m the fourth born optimist, remember!” The two siblings hugged and said good night.

The night was bright and the ground bathed in the full moonlight. Trees outside the wide wooden windows swayed gently, rustling in the wind. Sal dozed contentedly under the covers with Sim close, so surrounded by love. Hours later Sal woke faintly aware of the stillness of the night. Too still, suddenly completely alert, a sense of something being wrong was overwhelming. The air had become cold and reaching over to touch Sim sent ice into Sal’s heart. There was a silence that thundered and roared. No heart beat, no breath, no sound.

Immediately the silence was shattered with a piercing scream.

Sal shook Sim’s body trying to shake the fear away. The room was spinning and people were running into the room around the bed. The screaming continued until a needle pierced Sal’s upper arm. Words drifted into mind as consciousness clouded and numbness shrouded all thoughts.

It was Bon’s voice. “We must save the baby.”

The house became a hive of activity again, although Sal did not witness it. The next few hours saw an emergency caesarean and the birth of Sim’s and Sal’s third baby, already pre-named Raz. Sim had died the moment Sal had woken. The screaming Sal had issued had allowed the child to survive. Sedation barely helped over the next few days. The empty feeling that drowned all senses filled Sal’s world. How to go on without Sim? The very thought was impossible.