“There’s a power within, as yet undiscovered.”
Alex is a graphic genius who can create a superhero but does he have the courage to become one? Apple is the warrior princess who will fight to the death, but can she learn to listen to her heart?
They live in different worlds but are thrust together on the same quest. A quest to undo the Apocalypse. If they fail, life on Earth as we know it will end.
When Moon, a mysterious stranger, gives Alex extraordinary powers, then drags him into her post-Apocalyptic world, he doesn’t know whether he’s dreaming or drugged. But, by the time he falls back into his own world, only he knows about the terror attack that’s about to trigger a global nuclear war. And in spite of the clock ticking down, no one he turns to believes a word he says…
If you like epic adventure, featuring time travel, action and romance, and have an interest in meditation and the possibilities of universal energy, then you’ll love this new book by Trevor Morris.
Alex let the pen roll onto the desk and flexed his fingers. His wrist was aching. In front of him, an orderly line of people, patiently awaiting their turn. Behind him, on a six-foot-high poster, was the reason for their devotion: a sword-wielding, dusky prehistoric beauty, adorned with the words Apple: the Birth of a Superhero by Alex Samson'.
"Hi, Alex, I love you. Can you sign it for Sven, my biggest fan."
Alex looked up into the red and wet face to see a globule of sweat gather on Sven's nose. The line was now eclipsed, and a wave of BO crashed over Alex's head as he hurriedly reached for the pen, took the book and scrawled the message, as requested, onto the title page. He returned the book to the equally wet hands and smiled.
"Oh, thank you, Alex. Thank you, thank you. You've totally made my day. No, you've made my life. I love you, man."
Alex fought to maintain the smile as Sven melted away. He looked up to see a dusky hand holding yet another copy of his best-selling graphic novel. A familiar smell, of clean, delicate orange, caught his attention as he scanned the cosplay outfit, accurate all the way to the animal skin bandage over the left hand and wrist, and his mouth dropped open when he clocked its owner. "Karen, you look amazing."
He watched her face light up as she slid the book onto the desk. "Can you make it out to 'My very best friend, Karen'?"
Alex flipped open the book and dragged his pen over the paper surface slowly and deliberately, signed off with three xs, closed it and held it towards her.
Her smile was wide, generous and genuine. Alex began to feel his heart race. She reached for the book, but he didn't let go. "So what are you doing down here?"
"I wanted to see you."
Alex was unable to stop the heat rising into his cheeks. "Shall we meet? When I've finished."
"At the Sausage?" She pronounced it 'so sarge' just the way they used to when they first met, and all he could do was smile and nod, his mouth too dry for words.
An hour later, Alex had signed his way through another three-hundred-odd books, the message getting ever briefer until there was time only for his initials before the scheduled gig was up. His wrist was screaming like a bitch. He replaced the cap on the Mont Blanc, and a hollow sadness descended as he remembered how proud his father had been to see him open the silk-lined box. It had been over eight years, but he felt the loss as keenly as a missing limb.
He turned and grabbed the denim jacket over the back of the chair, then tucked the pen safely inside. He stood, stretched his back and began to thread his way through the comic book heroes and heroines that had gathered at the great exhibition hall to worship him and the other lucky individuals who could spin a story and draw a picture.
"ALEX."
Alex spun around to face the all-too-familiar form of his publisher, Thomas Ash, barrelling towards him. Alex looked up as a heavy hand slapped onto his shoulder, and Thomas steadied himself breathlessly. "Not so fast."
"Thomas, I'm meeting someone."
"Are you now? Don't tell me. Young, pretty and a huge fan. Where's the manuscript?"
Alex was unable to hold the stare. "Almost done."
The weight of Thomas's arm bore down on his shoulder as his hand fastened around it. "Listen, I've been around long enough to see dozens of today's hot dogs quickly become tomorrow's cold mashed potato. This business is a shark, boy. Nothing can stop it eating its way through product. Feed it or sink into the mud. Your choice."
Fleetingly, heading towards the exit door into Olympia Way, Alex glimpsed a slight, dark-hooded figure and shivered.
He looked back up into Thomas's face. "Monday."
"No sequel, no deal, no groupies. Are we clear?"
"Yes, yes, Monday, Thomas." He looked back towards the exit, but the mystery figure had disappeared as had the weight on his shoulder and Thomas Ash.
The Cumberland Arms was rammed. Batman, Thor, a Wonder Woman and an Apple among others spilling onto the pavement, cradling pints of beer, glasses of wine, cigarettes and vapes. The low roar of chatter was punctuated by shrieks of laughter and drink-fuelled yells.
"ALEX."
He looked into the stranger's face and smiled, slipping inside what smelled like a sweet, woody greenhouse amid pats and slaps of recognition. Passed Batgirl, around Ironman, dodging the Green Lantern, Doctor Strange and Storm. Then he saw her. Karen in Apple cosplay, exactly as he'd drawn her, alone at a corner table, nursing a pint, another untouched, by an empty chair. She smiled and waved.
As Alex slipped into the space beside her she stood and spread her arms. Alex flung his arms around her and squeezed gently. He felt her lips brush his ear. "Missed you." The smell of sweet orange made him feel light-headed, and he stumbled onto the awaiting seat.
She nodded at the glass of ale. "It should have warmed up nicely by now."
Alex lifted it and clinked it against hers. "Cheers."
She took a sip. "Cheers."
He looked into the brown eyes as they creased into a warm welcome but was too overwhelmed to form a single word.
"Congratulations."
Alex looked down, unable to think of a worthy response.
"I'm flattered."
He glanced up to see her form a smile bright enough to light a city and felt a wave of lightness ripple from the pit of his stomach to the top of his head.
"How's the follow-up going."
"It's not." He reached for the glass and glugged. "It was a fluke."
She banged her glass on the table. "Bollocks. You're special, a unique talent."
He searched her face for the jokey put-down. "Do you think so?"
"Yes, I bloody do."
Alex felt his heart racing out of control. "I've got something to tell you." He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Waited so long." He stopped as he felt the weight of her hand resting on his.
“Me first.”
He watched, somewhat puzzled, as she began to unwrap the signature animal skin bandage around her left arm. She stretched out her fingers to reveal a white-gold band, encrusted with a cluster of diamonds.
Alex stared, open-mouthed, the wind knocked from his gut. He glanced up to see Karen turn, leap up and throw her arms around a new arrival. The wild-looking dude turned and offered a smile and a hand.
"And talk of the devil. Alex, this is Bob, my fiancé."
Alex reached out and gripped the hand.
"Congratulations. Terrific news, guys." He manufactured a smile, reached inside his jacket pocket and held a credit card aloft. "HEY EVERYONE, GET A DRINK ON ME, KAREN AND BOB ARE ENGAGED."
The hubbub of conversation rose in a crescendo, and a wave of bodies surged towards the bar.
Alex smiled and nodded, raising his glass towards each and every grateful punter over the following thirty minutes. The ache in his wrist had been joined by ones in his arm and shoulder as Karen stood and looked down at him, flashing yet another electric smile. "Well, we'd better get going, then. Got a train to catch."
Alex stood and hugged them both, then slumped down. A few moments later, the cloaked mystery woman slipped onto the newly vacated chair. She was black, attractive and a dead ringer for Apple's mother.
Alex felt her hold his hand as they shook. "Hello, Alex, I'm Moon."
He looked into her almond green eyes and felt a distinct warmth. "I can see," he smiled, at long last the tension of the day beginning to ease. "Your outfit is spot on."
Her eyes bored into his. "How are you feeling?"
He rubbed his right arm and wrist. "A bit rubbish actually."
She reached out and took his hand in hers once more. He stiffened but then, as the arm and wrist were bathed in a strange heat, he relaxed and searched her face for an explanation. There was something comforting about her. She had the same easy confidence that had blessed his mother, the very trait that continued to elude him. She released his hand and cocked her head a little to one side.
"Yeah, it's been a rubbish day all round."
"How so?"
"Did you see the girl done up like Apple?"
"Yes."
“Her name's Karen. I met her at the Royal Marsden during my Mum's chemo." Alex felt the warmth of her soft palms wrap around his hands. "We became friends. Really close. But she moved, landed a good job in Manchester. Earlier, at the Comic Con, it was the first time I'd seen her for almost a year. She left shortly after Mum's funeral."
"I'm sorry."
"I liked her. A lot. I was going to tell her. But she'd come down with her own news."
Again Moon cocked her head gently.
"She was wearing a ring. Wanted me to meet her fiancé…"
He felt his hands melt into hers.
"She sounds like a good friend."
"I thought we could be more." He looked into her eyes.
"I think you're seeing too much of your fantasy girl in her, Alex."
Even as he stared into the green, liquid pools in her face, he couldn't help hearing the words as if spoken by his mother. He tried to blink away the tears but they started to trickle down his cheeks. Suddenly Moon was by his side, embracing him and his chin was resting naturally against her neck.
"Shshshshshsh, my child. Let it out."
Alex shuddered as the tears came but, for the first time in a long while, he felt safe. He pulled back, glanced around the bar to see heads turned towards them, and drew an arm over his face as she rubbed his back.
"Sorry."
"Don't be." She rubbed his eyes with her thumb. "Every drop helps the memory of her to flower." She pulled out a purse. "Fancy a drink?"
The first shot slipped down his throat like a cold fire, and the rest of the evening rushed past in a blur.
His head was filled with a kaleidoscope of swirling colours. The soundtrack was a distant drumming of rain.
"Alex, do you want a cuppa?"
"Yes please, Mum." He smiled to himself and turned over beneath the duvet. His dream skipped ahead to that afternoon. Returning home from college, the radio playing. He called out, but there was no answer. He went into the parlour, and there she was, sitting on her chair, eyes closed, a little smile on her lips, her arms crossed around the photograph of Dad. He called her softly, "Mum." And when he touched her arm, she was as cold as ice.
A salty odour reached his nose, and his eyelids fluttered open. He sniffed and put the sound of the rain together with the smell. 'Bacon.' He rolled off the bed and padded barefoot downstairs, curiosity and confusion competing with hunger. He turned into the kitchen and froze. There, slipping the sizzling meat onto a slice of white bread was Moon. Little flashes of the previous night began to dance inside his head: the first sighting at the exhibition hall, their evening at the pub, the walk, the cab, being tucked beneath the duvet.
She turned around and smiled. "Good morning, Alex."
"But…?"
"Do you remember last night?"
He rubbed his face with his hands. "But how did you know where I lived?"
"We need to talk…"
Alex felt light-headed. He backed out of the kitchen and turned. But, instead of the front door speeding towards his face, it was the floor.
Alex opened his eyes. He was sitting in the armchair in the parlour, the one his mother used to call hers. Moon's hands were pressing him down. He tried to squirm away from her grip but in spite of her frame, just as bird-like as his Mum's, he was unable to move.
"Just humour me for a few minutes,” she peered at him intently. “Supposing some of the fantasy you wrote about was a smokescreen for a hidden reality?”
Alex nodded, unable to hide the smile.
“Supposing you could tap into a fundamental source of energy and harness it to transfer memory, both mental and muscle, from one individual to another, to enable super-rapid healing and to travel through time?”
The laugh slipped out of his mouth, but she squeezed his arms.
“I'm a time traveller. I’ve come from the future, a future you showed in Apple.”
Alex felt himself falling, but her grip stiffened.
“I trawled the best art schools for the best, most promising comic artist there was.”
Alex stared into her eyes, but could see nothing but sincerity.
“Then I gave you the story of Apple."
Alex felt his heart racing as she bore down on him. 'Is she just a crazy fan? A madwoman who's just picked up on the books? Or the Comic Con?'
"I can read your thoughts, Alex and the answer to all three is 'no'."
He tried to pull away, but she held him even tighter.
"I know all about you. Your father's murder. Your mother's passing, barely a year ago. In this chair."
His jaw dropped.
"I'm sorry to remind you, Alex."
"But…"
"I know exactly when and where you were when the idea for Apple came to you. Do you remember that night at the cinema? You felt the heat on your neck and looked around. You looked straight at me in the darkness, then turned back and scribbled in your notebook. I dumped the whole story on you. You felt good. You wrote it in record time."
Alex stretched his neck. "I remember…"
Her faced creased into a smile. "And here we are."
Alex stared at the black hands in silence.
"Yes, I know you need to work on the follow-up."
His jaw dropped once again.
"I can do the same again. The second story sees the re-emergence of the arch-villain, and his re-imposition of the post-Apocalyptic world.”
Alex felt torn between fear and intrigue. He nodded slowly. "Yes, I see it."
Moon smiled again. "OK, let's go."
"Where?"
"Your studio. Where else?"
Alex sat at the desk and looked straight ahead towards the skylight. On his shoulders, he felt the weight of Moon's hands. His body was tuned to a deep, comforting vibration, and within his eyes there was a bright, all-knowing light.
A soft, wry smile began to play over Alex's lips as he reached forward and took up the pencil lying beside the blank sketch pad. His hand began to move, with a life of its own. Faster and faster, until the movement became a blur.
Eighty-one hours later, Alex sank onto the desk. Nothing could disturb his slumber as Moon quietly but efficiently packed up the sheaf of pages, then slipped out of the room.
As Alex lifted his head Moon’s hands were there on his shoulders. He instinctively reached for the pencil and his hand began to vibrate to an energy beyond his control. From the blank sheet appeared an image. Two figures. Standing still. In a dense forest. The first was all but invisible, covered within a hooded cloak. The second, a dark hand holding him by the wrist, was a young man in jeans, trainers and a T-shirt. As he watched the facial features appear, Alex's hand suddenly slowed, then stopped. His jaw fell open, and his eyes widened.
Time seemed to stop, and Alex felt himself somehow lose all sense of balance. He began to fall slowly at first towards the picture. But then the desk seemed to disappear, as indeed did the room. He was falling in space, ahead of him the hooded cloak as he'd drawn it. Both of them down into the cold, black void. Forward and down, towards a dot of light, which became larger and larger.
In the attic room, though, all was quiet. The room empty. The pencil that a moment ago had been in Alex's hand rolled across the pad, onto the desk, then fell, onto the floor.