Amidst the falling dust (The Green and Pleasant Land) by Oliver Kennedy Page B

stump of a tongue which slides uneasily over broken teeth. Even so, I can pick out the words.
    “What do you want from me?”
    “What do you have to give?” he slurs. My eyes glance over at the green eyed stranger. If Trowler and Sutton are aware of the conversation taking place they give no outward sign.
    “Him?” I query.
    The mutilated man nods but says. “He is not yours to give, which is much a pity, a great deal of change might come to the horrors in front and behind us if that was not the case”.
    “What did he do?” I ask. The man considers the question.
    “He broke the cycle, he broke me, and he...” the sentence cannot be finished, the man tails off.
    “What is your name?” I quiz him uncertain of what to do, and curious as to how he seems to know me.
    “My name is Robert Locklear.” The sound of the name sends a chill through me, I have a memory, a faint recollection of a dream, a dream of ravens biting at the dead, it is gone as soon as it arrives. We sit in silence for as long as I can bear until the discomfort prompts me into more questions.
    “I have another question,” Locklear nods.
    “What do the words 'Fey Le Nar raen' mean?” I can tell by the wide eyed stare that I have surprised him, there are still things he does not know.
    “Where did you come by those words?” he asks me. I tell him of the encounter in Stefan Kesslers office. “Raen, as a literal translation means rise, as for the rest,” before continuing Locklear looks around, assessing the shadows for who might be listening. “The Fey Le Nar, is a group...whose history goes back further than any known to the established civilisations of the world”.
    My question is answered but the revelation has caused a dozen more to take its place. I am trying to decide which one to ask next when he interrupts my decision making with a query of his own.
    “Tell me of your travels Patrick, tell me of how you came to be at Edenpark and all that befell you there, perhaps there are yet more secrets to be shared between us”.
    I told him, about all that had taken place since we left the carrier. He nodded through most of it. Then I got to the command centre, to the topic of the satellite feed, to the images which we'd seen which I'd been reluctant to share with anyone, even myself. He leans in close at this point. “We saw the world, for just a few moments, we saw the storms. Dark clouds, swirling hurricanes that stretched from one side of the planet to another, lightning flashed constantly. Vast clouds of ash obscured the world, where the cloud thinned we saw fire, fires that engulfed entire nations. The planet, the planet is dead Robert Locklear, the world has been swallowed by a maelstrom of fire and ashen darkness...”
    “All except here”, he finished.
    “All except here”, I repeat. “Why? The abyss has smothered all life from the face of the Earth, all bar Britain, the clouds hovered around our land, but they do not cross the seas, they do not breech some damned, blessed barrier which prolongs our agony.”
    “This is a sacred land, Patrick, a special land.”
    “What does any of this mean, why are we still here?” I implore him for some answers. Locklear stands unsteadily. I can see the bulge of heavy bandaging on his knees and he grunts in pain as he staggers towards me. A bloody stump lays on my shoulder as he leans in close, I lose my gaze in the horrible gaping wounds on his face, fascinated and reviled in tandem.
    “Patrick, Patrick, Patrick” he whispers in a distant voice over and over and over.

    “Patrick” shouts Patricia and I come to. She is leaning over me as is Mark Kirby. Of Robert Locklear there is no sign.
    “Whats wrong?” I ask,
    “You were screaming in your sleep”, says Patricia. I can see Tasker standing near the entrance to the cave. I climb to my feet shaking the sleep from my head. Light has started to creep over the horizon, winding its way down through the canopy and into the eyes and