BY ANDREAS CHRISTENSEN
They say the early bird catches the worm. Well, I was never an early bird, and basically I’d always been the sort of guy to be swept along by outside events. While my twenties were fun, with college, bachelor life and not a care in the world, my thirties went by beyond my control. Not quite true, but is seemed that way. Not that I didn’t enjoy my thirties; after all I had a decent job, a wonderful wife and three great children, but somehow life itself just seemed to flow right past me. As if everything happened to someone else, while all I ever did was try to follow some predetermined chain of events. Difficult to explain, but you know what I mean. Everything happened so fast, it seemed. One day I was a college student, and the next, I woke up in a two-story house in suburbia, living a stereotype life that would have freaked me out fifteen years ago.
When I started the car a week ago, I had no idea everything was about to change. My wife had already taken the kids to school, and I enjoyed my five minutes of quiet while finishing off my coffee. It was sort of a ritual I had developed, my daily timeout, and every day I regretted having to get up and walk out to the car. I didn’t hate my job, far from it. It just seemed dull, sometimes even pointless. I always had this dream of doing something different, but I couldn’t put my finger on it and say “this is what I want to do for the rest of my life”. I’ve always envied those who have a clear goal of becoming an artist or an actor or even an accountant. It’s tangible, and they can work towards their dream. Me, I never really knew what I wanted. I guess that’s why I just seemed to drift along. So here I was, driving through these perfectly ordinary suburban streets, on my way to work. Just like any other day.
After twenty minutes I turned left towards the tunnel. When it was built it was called an engineering feat, by those who know such things. It was the deepest undersea tunnel in the world, they claimed. A couple of years later, the Japanese built one even deeper, and then it was just like any other tunnel. A means of getting from A to B without the hassle of a ferry. Nifty, but nothing special. The first times driving through it, I’d wondered what would happen if the old Honda decided to call it quits while inside the tunnel, since after all, the chances of something like that happening were increasing every day. But there were emergency phones at regular intervals all the way through, and besides, these days the cell coverage was so good, there was really nothing to worry about.
I was on my way back up on the other side, and the car was laboring hard in low gear when I heard this weird sound. It was like a muffled bang, followed by a rattling and screeching sound, and the engine started slowing. I pushed the gas pedal a couple of times, but nothing seemed to happen. I didn’t want to take any chances, so I pulled over, close to one of the emergency phones, and stopped the car. I paused for a second, before getting out. I’m no mechanic and to be honest I don’t have a clue what to do when things like this happen, but I figured someone would come along that would be able to help, or I could just call for assistance. Now, I’m an office kind of guy, basically, and though I can fix lots of things on my computer, I’d never dream of trying to fix my car. I’m comfortable with the fact that I don’t know everything and cannot do everything myself. But here I was, in a tunnel with a broken Honda, and no vehicles passed me for the next fifteen minutes. While that struck me as odd, I didn’t think much about it at the time. I’d lived in the city for quite a few years and one of the reasons we moved out here was the fact that there was no rush hour. So I checked my cell phone. For some reason I couldn’t get a signal, and I was reluctant to use the emergency phone nearby. After all, it wasn’t as if any of this was an actual emergency.
I sat back on the driver’s seat, with my feet out the door, and waited some more. Another fifteen minutes went by. It was very quiet. Even the tunnel fans had stopped, as they do from time to time. I knew for a fact that I would have some explaining to do when I showed up for work. My boss never nagged me for being a few minutes late from time to time; he knew I’d catch up. But with the waiting, and the time it would take to get some assistance down here, it would probably be lunch time before I got in, and all the while no way to give notice. I looked at my watch. The damn thing had stopped. All right, it was one of those days.
Another few minutes went by, before I decided to use the emergency phone. There was no sound as I held it up to my ear, and at the same time the lights in the tunnel ceiling started flickering. Definitely one of those days. The lights went out one after another, and seconds later it was pitch dark, except for the headlights and interior light of the Honda. I was getting a little angry. Not at anyone or anything, just a bit annoyed in general. And impatient, most of all. I looked out at the darkness towards where I knew the far side of the tunnel would be. I knew it would take me about twenty five minutes to walk through the rest of the tunnel, uphill and in the dark. I decided to go for it.
I’d been walking for some time when I saw a faint light in the distance. I hoped for a second it would be another car, until I realized it had to be daylight from the tunnel exit. As I kept walking, I noticed the asphalt being broken here and there, and it got worse as I neared the exit, with big heaps of gravel and deep holes that would have stopped any car driving this far. I shook my head at the maintenance crew who’d probably gotten half way through their work, leaving the road in such a state for whoever came through. Lazy bastards. I hadn’t noticed any signs on the way down, so it all seemed careless and irresponsible. Lucky my car had stopped way back, or I’d run into this and had an accident!
When I reached the exit my jaw fell open. For minutes I couldn’t utter a word, or think straight. No words could describe the sight. I’d driven through this tunnel on my way to work for years, and there should have been buildings, boat houses, and a bridge a little farther ahead and off to the left, a road that forked three ways, you name it. Civilization. Now, there was nothing. The road or what was left of it, ended a few feet inside the tunnel, and outside there was only wilderness. No sign of anything that had been here the day before. And it was hot. Far too hot for this time of year. Steaming hot actually. Slowly, I removed my jacket, and loosened my shirt, having tucked away the tie before leaving my car. Then I sat down, dumbfounded. I had no idea what to make of this.
Looking back, I guess the first thing that needs to be said is that nothing, absolutely nothing can prepare you for something like this. When I first got out of the tunnel, I was too stunned and confused to even try to think rationally. I don’t know how long I sat there, but it must have been hours, just taking it all in, trying to get my wits back. I must have looked like an idiot.
At some point, I can’t be any more specific, because I’d lost track of time, my brains started working again. I started noticing more details, such as the low shoreline, the different vegetation, and the sounds of crickets that shouldn’t be there this time of year. And I began to search for explanations.
Obviously, nothing devastating had happened. Nothing like nuclear war or alien invasion or whatever comes to mind when reality gets replaced by something as unreal as this. The signs of civilization were simply missing, as if they’d never been there at all. And the heat and humidity didn’t fit the early spring morning when I’d entered the tunnel. I started wondering whether it would be the same if I doubled back the way I’d come, and after a moment of hesitation I decided that was the logical thing to do. The tunnel entrance, when seen from this side, looked more like a cave than anything else. No sign that this was a relatively new construction. No sign of it being a construction at all, actually. Still, I stepped briskly inside, determined to figure this out, to solve this mystery somehow.
It took me less than fifteen minutes to reach my car. The batteries were dead, so the lights had finally gone out of the old Honda. I still had some juice left in my cell phone though, and used it to light the way as I walked deeper into the darkness. There were puddles of water everywhere, as the drainage system seemed to have shut down too. Still, I plodded on, anxious to see what awaited me on the other side. Two hours later, when I stepped out into sunlight at the exact same place I’d driven that very morning, I despaired.
Exiting the tunnel, I discovered the same thing had happened here too, and this time it wasn’t confusion that got to me. It was fear. Pure, stomach turning, blinding fear. I started shivering, and it got so bad I almost blacked out. It had finally struck me, as I saw the wild untamed nature, that I was alone. My wife, my kids, everything I’d ever loved was completely inaccessible to me. That suburban life, in the suburban house, on the suburban street. Not even gone, but never there at all!
I don’t remember all the details; the emotions at the time were just too strong. But I remember crying for a long time. Hours went by as I struggled with these overwhelming impressions. Sometimes fear and desperation took me, and sometimes I calmed down somewhat, as if mourning a loved one. Then I’d rage against it all, cursing God and the world and myself for not appreciating what I’d had, before falling apart in tears again. I remember the confused undercurrent that never seemed to cease. And then I remember the stars, as night crept upon me. As bright as I’d never seen them before, untainted by the artificial light of human habitation. I must have fallen asleep some time during the night, exhausted, because the next thing I remember is the warm rays of sun touching me. And then I heard the voice of a young boy. As I slowly opened my eyes, he didn’t appear to be more than eight or nine.
“Wo bist du? Wie heisst du?” Or something like that. I recognized it to be German, but my German hadn’t been passable since high school, and barely even then. As the fog of sleep subsided, everything came back to me, and I barely managed to hold it together. I decided I had to, if not for me then for the boy. I tried to smile, don’t know whether I succeeded. At least I didn’t scare him off.
Then I got up, and had a better look at him. He was probably more like ten, now that I noticed, with scruffy blonde hair, and blue eyes, and with an innocent look about him. And he looked as confused as I. His clothes struck me as really strange, I couldn’t quite place them, but they definitely weren’t the latest fashion. In fact, they seemed hand stitched, and two sizes too big for him. And dirty.
“My name is Dave”, I said slowly, hoping he’d understand. I pointed at myself, and repeated.
“Dave Randall, nice to meet you”, and then I extended my hand, a motion he seemed to recognize. He shook it as firmly as he could, while he bowed his head.
“Klaus Halder” he replied, and then he smiled too. A little insecure, but he didn’t flinch. And as the formal greetings were done, we sat down and tried to have a conversation, as best as we could. He seemed more formal than what you’d expect from a ten year old, and with his raggedy clothing and strange mannerisms, I guess I’d already begun to suspect there were more barriers than language between us.
The next couple of days, Klaus and I explored the area. It was so different from what I remembered, so my having lived here for years didn’t do us much good. Actually, I started doubting that I was even in the same place, as the only familiar features were the tunnel and its immediate surroundings. I was thankful to have met Klaus, as he proved good company, and besides he turned out quite adept at scrounging together plants, roots and even a fish that we managed to cook. Klaus knew how to make a fire from sticks, and that saved my delicate stomach from having to digest the fish raw. Without him by my side, I’d probably be starved half to death by now.
The conversations were slow and cumbersome, but we did manage to understand each other by aid of words, hand signs and motions, and quite a bit of patience. From the bits and pieces I gathered, it dawned upon me that Klaus had experienced something similar to me, which didn’t surprise me as much as it should. The thing that did send shivers down my spine, and gave this whole thing a new perspective, was how he described the place he’d come from. After hours of putting the pieces together, I realized he was not just from another country. Klaus had been transported through time. There was no other way to explain what had happened. What he described as home was something like agricultural Germany in the seventeenth century, give or take, and I could tell he wasn’t lying. So that would mean that most likely I had also been transported through time. And that meant that this, here, now, would be…. Well, certainly not the twenty first century.
The time bit was one thing, weird as it would be. But then there was the question of where. I had the tunnel and the immediate surroundings, I knew that much. Klaus had showed me a spot of land when he described how he turned up here, about an hour west of the tunnel entrance. It seemed he’d been hiding in a patch of brush, he mentioned the word “Hessian” several times, and when he did he seemed afraid. From what I could gather, these Hessians he described seemed to be a bunch of especially cruel soldiers or mercenaries, and Klaus had been hiding from them. And when they had passed he’d waited for a long time, to make sure they didn’t come back. When he decided it to be safe to get up, he’d turned up here. Wherever “here” was. It was so weird. Both my tunnel and Klaus’ hiding place was right here in the same place. It didn’t fit in at all with my idea of how time travel might work. It seemed like entire patches of space and time had been thrown together right here, and we just seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I have somehow come to accept the fact that I’m never going to see my family again. The thing that comforts me is that I know in my guts that something has happened to me, and not to them. They will be home right now, wondering where I’ve gone, and probably be both terrified for me and angry with me at the same time. But life will go on, and though it pains me to think that they might believe I have abandoned them, at least they will be safe and sound. Anyway, that’s how I try to convince myself. But I will never know, and in those lonely dark hours, while Klaus sleeps, and only the stars and the low fire keeps me company, the fear gnaws at me, the despair threatens to take me again. I am always relieved when dawn breaks, and life goes back to simple practicalities.
Yesterday, we discovered footprints. I immediately leapt down to study them from just a few inches away, and it didn’t take me a second to see there were no shoes involved. When Klaus joined me, he told me the prints were from a woman, and that she seemed to be carrying something heavy. A few minutes later we found a large patch of blood on the ground, as if something or someone had died violently there. There were no clues as to what had happened though. It seemed to scare me a lot more than it did Klaus. He thinks it’s a hunter, and that she’s managed to find and kill a deer or something. Me, I guess I’m a child of the twentieth; I’m thinking raving lunatic serial killer. But we’re both the curious type, it seems. We followed the tracks until they went into a small brook. We couldn’t find them again, so we gathered she has to be very familiar with tracking, which made me put a little more faith in Klaus’ theory. With the time travel and all, she could be anything, but we need to be careful, so for now, we try to keep our eyes open, and not provoke anything.
So where does that leave us? Well, it seems, for now, we’re here to stay. We need to make the best of it; at the moment it’s all about survival, but we need to think ahead. Our near encounter with the huntress slash serial killer makes us both think that there are definitely others stranded here, in the same place and time. And who knows how they might turn out to be. One day we might find a new friend, and the next one may turn out to be a lethal enemy. In time, we need to learn to defend ourselves. And gather those friends we encounter. This is a new world for all of us, wherever we may come from. It has the possibilities of a new Eden, but dangers may lurk around every corner. We need to muster our strengths, and combine them. And we need to stay sane, in the midst of all this. Whatever the reason for these things happening to us, if there even is one, we need to focus on the fact that we do have the opportunity to make some good come out of it. And when the thought of those left behind creep up upon us, we need to make sure that what we do here count for something. Or perhaps I’ll wake up soon?