It's Turned Out Weird Again

The day had started out in an average normal way with a trip from 2012 to 1979, via a triumphant curry at the Euthanasia, and then back to the cold winter of 1979. During the meal I met up with my regular travelling companions and against normal rules they were returned to my time-stream. We were not allowed to be told why under the Temporal Confidentially Act 2057 Clause 189 of which none of us had heard.

Roth, the taller of my travelling companions then found a strange note, pinned to a lamppost, suggesting that we were his/her/their last hope and we needed to catch a bus. Now, we couldn't just go ignoring a note like that...

We got on the bus as instructed to find it was from London roughly around 2012.

That is the story as so far told in Skimming Time Like A Stone On A Pond

“There is no one else on this bus,” I said. I had taken courses in stating the perfectly obvious.

“By the feeling in my stomach, this isn't a normal bus ride, I think we’re going through time. Again,” added Eolist.

“I think it's a alternative reality," Roth suggested.

“I'm not sure anyone has ever accused any of us of spending much time with reality, let alone a alternative one,” I thought a moment. “Anyway what makes you think that?”

“Like Eolist, it was a feeling in my stomach. Different from time travel. Not as much week old sushi as bad fairy cake."

"You’re right. It was different," she agreed.

“I shall speak with the driver. He must know the route,” I didn't feel too positive about this but I walked to the front of the bus, past the please don't disturb the driver whilst the bus is moving sign.

“Driver, where is this bus going?”

The voice that spoke back was like an icy wind. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. The voice had no substance to it, no life, yet it reverberated. “You are nearly at the end of this part of your journey. One of you will not return."

I leant forward to draw level with the driver. I didn't want to, but I was compelled. The driver was tall and wearing a black hooded cloak. The fingers that held the steering wheel were so very thin. I was about to ask another question when the bus stopped.

The voice spoke again. “It is time for the three of you to leave."

I looked out of the window. There was nothing there. Darkness. “Here?” I queried.

“Yes. HERE.”


The doors opened and I walked back down the bus to my companions.

“What did the driver say?” asked Roth.

“He said we should get out here.”

“There is absolutely nothing out there.”

“He was really insistent.”

We got off the bus. It was the only light. As soon as we were all off it simply faded. The bus faded. It didn't drive off, it faded.

“It's turned out weird again,” said Roth. He couldn't have been more right.

“Where do you think we are?” I asked.

“Has anyone got a torch?” Eolist suggested.

“Yes, hold on.” I pulled a torch out of my pocket and twisted the barrel. Nothing happened. No light. “That's odd.”

“Maybe if we just feel around and see what is around us,” suggested Roth.

We walked around slowly. As far as we could tell there was nothing for as far as any of us were willing to walk. Certainly none of us wanted to get out of earshot of the others. Being in a strange place in absolute darkness is unnerving.

Eolist suggested trying the floor. We all felt around. It had the texture of concrete. Hard and rough but basically flat.

“I've found something,” said Roth, “I think it’s indentations in the floor. I can feel shapes. Letters. Oh. It says, H. E. L. P.” I think he may have looked quite shocked if anyone could have seen him.

All three of us sat upon the ground and started checking for more letters. If there were any we couldn't find them.

“Any idea what we should do now?” asked Roth.

“No. I think maybe we should wait and try and work out what is going on,” I suggested.

While we waited I recounted my conversation with the driver and his warning. This didn't help much.

Will Eolist, Roth and Tunguska be able to a) find help, b) find the lightswitch and c) work out what the driver’s warning meant?