Page 5 of The Time of My Afterlife

‘I lift heavier weights at the gym,’ I croak, wiping a layer of sweat from my forehead.

She scowls. ‘You were slowing down.’

‘No, I wasn’t. Why do you always have to muscle in on what I’m doing?’

It still amazes me how fast Florence and I can return to being those two bickering children who used to squabble and fight at family social events.

A car horn makes us jump, and an angry-looking man shouts, ‘Cross the bloody road!’

‘Calm down,’ yells Florence.

We both begin to stagger to the other side. I feel like I’ve just completed an insane cardio workout. Why do I pay all that money for an expensive gym membership and still struggle to run half a mile?

I try to catch my breath and rub my side as I have a stitch. Lifting my head up, I see a silver car approaching the crossing in the opposite direction. I don’t know why, but I’m strangely transfixed by it. A loud bang makes me yelp. It sounds like one of the car’s tyres has blown. For a few seconds, I watch the car lurch sideways.

The sound of screeching tyres and metal fills the air as the car’s rear end starts to sway. It gathers momentum. As it gets closer, I can see the driver’s face is etched with panic. He’s fighting to bring the car under control.

A sharp gasp is suddenly wrenched from my lungs.

It’s as if someone has flicked a switch and time has slowed to a crawl.

The car is dangerously close.

Oh, God, we’re going to get run over.

I reach for Florence.

3

FLORENCE

‘Florence, can you hear me?’

The voice began as a faint murmur. Before it spoke, there was only darkness and silence. It was nice to focus on something. Gradually, the voice grows louder. ‘Wake up.’

After many twitches, my eyelids finally unstick. The blurry shape hovering over me sharpens into Clark’s face.

I let out a shriek, and he puts up his hands defensively. ‘Calm down. I was just seeing if you were… alive?’

‘Well, I am alive,’ I snap. ‘So stop looming over me.’

He blinks. ‘I was not looming – I was concerned.’

‘You were looming, Clark, and it was unsettling.’

‘Fine.’ He moves away as I haul myself up. My head feels like someone has put it in a washing machine and set it to fast spin. There’s a whizzing sensation in my ears, and all my thoughts feel jumbled.

I look around me. ‘Where are we?’

As I survey our new surroundings, a shiver runs down my spine, and my stomach churns. We’re in what looks like an old bedsit. The walls were evidently white a few decades ago, but they’re now a sickly yellow, and they’re adorned with brown patches that glisten faintly in the glare of the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. In one corner, there’s a small open-plan kitchen area, complete with a dirty fridge, a rusty sink and a relic of a gas cooker. In the opposite corner is a tatty old sofa pulled out into a bed, with an old sheet and a pillow. Further along is an old toilet that looks pre-war, with a huge chain and a grey sink that clearly hasn’t seen any bathroom cleaner in over twenty years. There’s a window, but it’s small, and because the glass hasn’t been cleaned in a long time, the outside looks covered in thick, dirty fog. My nostrils catch the scent of damp and fried food. There’s another aroma that is hard to describe, but it makes me uncomfortable.

I turn around and gasp. Behind us is an old metal lift. Its dull, scratched doors are covered in grime and patches of rust. They also don’t quite line up in the middle, leaving a jagged black seam. On one side is a wonky panel filled with yellowed buttons, some cracked and some missing. Above the doors is a display that is covered in dust. I assume it once indicated when the lift was coming. I hurry over and press all the buttons, but none of them light up. Pressing my ear to the door, I listen for any reassuring mechanical sounds that might signal the lift is on its way.

Clark comes to stand by me. ‘I’ve tried that,’ he sighs. ‘It’s not working.’

I shake my head in despair. ‘What is this place, Clark?’

He shrugs. ‘I don’t know.’