Free Paralysis Paradox (Time Travel Through Past Lives Adventure Series Book 1) by Stewart Sanders Page A

about to explode! We’ll—’
    ‘There are no flames, son. It’s not going to explode. Look!’ He pulled me over to a window and made me look through it. The Mayfly was drifting away, sunlight flashing off its steel body, but no flames. People were outside cheering as it moved overhead. What had I seen?
    ‘I don’t understand!’ I started, but Evan took over.
    ‘It’s all right, officer. He’s a friend of mine. I’ll look after him.’
    The policeman looked doubtful, but clearly had better things to do so left us to it.
    We sat for a moment in the silence of the church. Light was filtering through the stained glass windows, casting a red glow on the stone floor below.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked. ‘Where’s Arthur gone?’
    ‘I’m painting the vestry,’ he said. ‘Going to be here all week.’ He looked around. ‘I don’t know where Arthur is.’
    ‘I think I’m going mad: first the dreams about the skull and now I’m seeing things. I swore I could see that airship burning, you know!’ My head was bowed as I rubbed my sore back.
    ‘Charlie? I need you to listen; we won’t have long. I want you to take deep breaths, and really focus on exactly what you saw. They are just images, memories perhaps, but they cannot hurt you now.’
    ‘Memories?’ I looked up at Evan suspiciously. ‘What do you mean, how can I have seen an airship before?’
    ‘I don’t know, so close your eyes, and remember, but know that you are safe here.’
    I closed my eyes and from my mind’s perspective watched the airship approaching a huge metal tower and then start to sink as flames consumed its skin, leaving behind a crumbling shell. Hundreds of people screamed and ran, and I watched their flesh disintegrate, revealing macabre skeletons left behind. Amongst this death, I was drawn to a room lit in the flickering orange and red hues, of the fires around it. The interior details of the room were difficult to see, but I had a sense of medieval grandeur, of low ceilings, dark wooden panelling and a huge, locked door. Young men were standing and then shuffling, holding hands and praying, staring intently at a skull, which seemed to hover. The more I tried to concentrate, the less sure I became. Now I saw the same men, but they had aged. For a split second the room changed too—it was suffused with a cold blue light and the walls seemed to be made of some sort of dull grey metal. And then back to the original, medieval room. The men were now holding a human head, cutting the face away, scraping the flesh from the bone, one minute fresh and almost alive, the next rotten and mottled with decomposition. Blood seeped over their hands and clothing. And now the head was a skull, stained red from fresh blood. It was the dream from before, but it was becoming clearer.
    Opening my eyes, I turned to the sound of Arthur and George storming towards us. As I did so I caught a glimpse of Evan, who looked as if he had been crying. I wasn’t sure how much I had actually recounted to Evan, but I suspected now that he knew more abou t what was going on than I did.
    ‘For God’s sake, Charlie, what the hell was that all about? The last thing we need is a bloody policeman sniffing about!’ shouted Arthur, furious.
    I stood up, but found myself unsteady on my feet. ‘I’m sorry, Arthur. I don’t know what happened. I—’
    But he cut me off, his face grim. ‘We’ve got bigger problems to deal with now. George left his knife behind at the farmhouse last night.’
    ‘So what?’ said Evan. ‘So he lost his knife, but he can get a new one.’
    ‘It had my name engraved on it!’ George exclaimed. ‘It was a present from my pa on my fifteenth birthday. My name and the date!’
    ‘And you, you idiot,’ spat Arthur, poking me hard in the chest with his finger, ‘you go and turn into some kind of raving lunatic and bring the police into it.’
    ‘Leave him alone!’ cried Evan. ‘Can’t you see how upset he is?’
    I tried