𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 [Book One]

8: Where are we? And who are you?

After a while of walking (and listening to Malik talk endlessly about every country there is), Andy taps me on the arm.

I look at her. "Yes?"

She looks uncertain and deep in though. "Hey, Luke, don't you think that, well.." she pauses. "How do I put this without looking stupid?"

"Just say it. I will not mind." I say, wondering what Andy is about to ask.

"Basically, you only came, what, fourty-one years from the future, right? Well, I was wondering, we would still be alive then, so there's a creepy chance you might know us from your reality."

I stop, taking this in. She has a point. "I- I do not think so."

Her shoulders slump and she looks dejected. "Oh. Okay. Just wondering."

I study her features, racking my brain to see if I recognise anything that looks familiar. And then it comes to me. My jaw drops as realisation dawns on me.

Andy raises an eyebrow. "What is it?"

I look at her harder. It has to be. "I think I might know you." I smile. "Or possibly your future daughter, or niece."

She makes a face like she is about to puke. "Ewww, as if I would ever have kids." she seems interested though. "Who is it, then?"

I pause, only just realising what this meant. "Irina Forde, or Mrs Forde, as she is more commonly known. She has to be." I remember Mrs Forde's looks of loathing. "In that case, I feel bad for you. Honestly."

Andy thinks for a moment. "Let me guess: this Mrs Forde is horrible to you and hates your sister and no one likes her."

I gape at her. "How did you know that?"

Andy gives a cheeky smile. "Well, she is my future daughter, after all. Motherly instinct."

I laugh. "No. Just no."

She shrugs and laughs. "Just saying. It's gonna happen, after all. But don't worry- I won't ask you to baby-sit."

We both crack up and for about five minutes and it is the after-laughter sighs that set us off again. After we have stopped laughing, Malik stops talking and turns to us.

"Guys, you know I could hear everything?"

Andy manages to pull a straight face and look innocent. "Everything?"

"Yes." he pauses. "Do you really think I talk too much?"

Andy looks at him seriously. "You're only just asking that now?"

He nods. "Yup. So, do I?"

I do not say anything, trying to be polite, but Andy nods whole-heartedly. "Yes. Why though?"

Malik smiles and shrugs. "It's fun speaking a new language. And good practice."

Wait, what? I look at him in shock. "You mean, you talk so much in English and it is not even your first language?"

He punches the air in glee and grins madly. "So you can't tell? I'm improving!"

Andy looks just as shocked as me. "Wait, so what's your first language? Do you talk as much in that as well?"

"Arabic. And no, I don't talk as much- I'm already fluent. I just speak a lot in English to practice it. Clever, right?"

I nod. "If you are already that good, it must work."

He mock-bows. "Why, thank you."

Suddenly, a twig snaps behind us, which is odd because their are not many people around. Then there is a shuffle and an urgent voice that belongs to a man. I turn around nervously, trying to see who it is.