Seven Point Eight The First Chronicle - By Marie A. Harbon
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Prelude to Odyssey
Room 104
October 1988
The London underground was a sinister place to be when being followed, especially for a woman travelling alone. Whoever stalked her always seemed ambiguous, amorphous, and at times almost inhuman, often fading into shadow.
Ava caught a train on the Victoria Line and instantly felt safer in a crowd, being surrounded by a heady concoction of commuters, tourists, and Londoners going about their daily business. The smell of sweat and perfume accompanied them, and their ignorance allowed her to feel anonymous. Trying not to appear shifty, she hid among them, focusing her eyes dead ahead.
Everything’s fine, no one can jump me here.
The busy hour meant a full train though, and she felt the bodies of the commuters press against her, some radiating formidable body odour. As the train rapidly accelerated and decelerated, Ava tried to maintain her balance. She distracted her worried mind by glancing over at someone’s book, attempting to ascertain what they were reading.
After the carriage rocked and screeched in the dark tunnels, making five stops along the way, she finally reached her destination. Pushing through the crowded station, she slid her ticket through the slot at the barriers and exited, wondering if her stalker had followed her.
I’m in a public place, so no one can kidnap me here.
The Tube station opened onto a main road, and she felt more exposed and vulnerable here. Glancing around, she crossed a street full of terraces, following her usual route. Often, she caught the scent of flowers at this point in the journey. A classical-looking matriarch with long, dark hair watered hanging baskets at the front of her house. She always smiled, giving Ava a pleasant reassurance, even though they didn’t know each other. Once or twice, there’d been children at the door too: a few in their teens and a younger boy who hid behind the mother, unsure what to think.
As Ava walked through a park, she encountered the same Afro-Caribbean man playing football with his two teenage boys. They were involved in a vociferous tackle, although generally they just dribbled the ball towards two trees, which were the goal posts. In the same park, an elderly gentleman walked a multitude of dogs. He normally tipped his hat to her. Finally, the same forty-something man sat on a bench, watching her intently, contemplating whether or not to approach, and perhaps afraid to initiate conversation. Always curious, he either partially hid behind a book or sipped tea from a polystyrene cup. Vague memories plagued her, suggesting she’d encountered this man before, but she couldn’t recollect where, when, or why.
He appraised Ava, this lithe young woman who often looked troubled, yet projected a quiet dignity with an introspective demeanour, as if internally preoccupied with some grand secret or purpose. She possessed an inviting sensuality, coupled with a compassionate aura. Untamed, golden hair shone in the autumn sun and cascaded down past her shoulders. With an olive tint to her skin, she looked a little Mediterranean, and her face had a soft, oval shape. A young student with spiked hair gave her a second glance as she walked past, but she paid no attention to him, being too consumed with the purpose of her journey. For a moment, she locked eyes with the man on the park bench, and noted the hint of affection in his eyes.
He’s too old for me, she thought, relieved he wasn’t too creepy though.
Did it comfort her, or was it just downright spooky that she encountered the same people on each journey? Were all these people actually acknowledging her, or was it just her imagination? She didn’t want to be extraordinary or to stand out; she merely wanted to contribute something extraordinary, something that stood out. In the near future, Ava would become involved in a critical project unprecedented in contemporary science, but how would these people know that? They wouldn’t. It had to be her imagination, surely?
As she drew closer to her destination, a disheartened emotion took over. She arrived at an austere building, which loomed over her like an architectural vampire, bleeding the positive energy from her soul. Even the design resembled fangs and it exemplified sobriety, bearing down upon the miniscule human ants that swarmed around its base.
This institution catered specifically for people with severe psychological problems, who’d been sectioned because they were a danger to themselves and to others. Furthermore, it housed a number of inmates who were certified as criminally insane. The fact that one of Ava’s relatives was a permanent