In a Coma State Dream Chapter 20

In a Coma State Dream
Chapter 20

After carrying the chair to the first floor, he placed it in the bathroom's center, removed his T-shirt, and sat down. Roxy appeared without waterproofs and in a tight pair of leggings and trainers. She laughed to see him bare-chested.

“You’re not supposed to laugh.”

He gave an embarrassed chuckle as he crossed his arms across his chest, feigning a hurt look on his face.

“Sorry, that wasn’t fair... You’re quite fit, not normal for a plain old waiter.”

Her eyes betrayed admiration.

She playfully snipped the scissors as she approached him and produced a ladies’ comb. Although she struggled to comb through his knotted hair, she laughed at Tom's protests each time she snagged and yanked at it.

With most knots taken out, Tom sat back and enjoyed being the attention of this blonde svelte woman, enjoying her breasts brushing his shoulders and elbows as she moved around him. Her hands were soft as they stroked him, snipping and brushing the hair clippings off his body, with the odd hand sweeping across his shoulders and abs.

He was sure she meant to brush her palms over his hard nipples, just for the sake of it. She ran her comb through his hair one last time and gestured for him to look in the mirror on the wall. The results surprised Tom, and his hair became far more respectable. He even had white skin peeking out around his exposed neck.

“I’ve not finished. Sit back down.”

Roxy giggled.

Tom sat down for Roxy to kneel sexily between his legs, brushing her breasts up his inner thighs, smiling up at him, knowing full well what she was doing, as she could feel his shaft hardening through his shorts. She slowly clipped away at his beard.

“I’ll trim it back first, and then I can always cut some more off if you want.”

Tom enjoyed her hands bunching up his beard as she cut, leaning her breasts into his cock as she brushed them up and down. Roxy’s head bobbed in and out, first in close to cutting so that Tom could feel the warmth of her breath. Then she’d lean back, checking the symmetry of the cut, giving Tom a bird's-eye view of her freckles and long eyelashes.

A few times, their eyes met. Tom looked deep into her luminescent green eyes each time, wishing for her to kiss him. A few times, he thought she was, but she would tease him with her hands, darting in to snip at his beard once more so that she could grin and see his disappointment.

Tom felt cheated when she stood up, gesturing for him to view her handy work in the mirror again. He could barely recognize his face looking back at him. She had done a great job with his trimmed beard matching his hair.

“Well done, that’s perfect, you’re wonderful, thanks.”

He turned to find her close behind him. He instinctively went to hug her, but she stepped back, smiling as she saw the frown on his face. She stepped back forward to hug him politely, kissing his cheek.

Tom bent over and ruffled his hair to loosen all the clippings. A second pair of hands joined his but dropped to brush his chest and body. Tom straightened up as Roxy passed him his T-shirt, mimicking a sad face, when he put it back on, covering his body. Tom got their equivalent of a hoover, but Roxy remained to help.

“Oh, no, Roxy, it’s okay. You’ve done enough, lovely. I’ll finish up here, thanks.”

She shook her head as she took the suction tube, engaged the suction, and started laughing at his beard. Her strength surprised Tom as she held him, dragging the hose end over him, sucking on his beard, hair, and cheeks.

The pair giggled and laughed as they grappled and wrestled together until Tom found himself sitting beside her. He had her pinned down to the floor, holding onto her wrists as she laughed, pretending to suck more cuttings from his beard with the Hoover’s extended hose.

He leaned over her, his head level with hers, looking into her eyes, both willing the other to draw closer. Tom wanted to go further but didn’t want guests; even worse, Kitty found him in this position. He’d done enough playing and needed to return to work.

“Ahem, I’m sorry... Things are getting a bit out of hand. I’ll need to tidy up as other guests will arrive soon.”

Tom released her and stood up, offering his hand to help her.

“Oh, sorry, I thought we were having a little fun.”

“Oh, ahh, yeah, we were, but I have work to do.”

Roxy pulled herself up to face him. She held his hand and brushed her hair straight with her free hand.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’ve distracted you enough already. Maybe later, we could have a rematch? You do remember my room number for later, don’t you?”

"Uh-huh... Sounds like a very nice plan. But first, you go down, and I'll tidy up, then sort you out some lunch."

Roxy kissed his cheek lightly and echoed, “Sounds like a plan.”

She turned and slinked down the hallway, kicking her hips out with each step, knowing that Tom was watching her. Tom watched her disappear down the stairs, annoyed with himself, as he still seemed awkward in coming forward with human women, especially ones he desired.

It didn’t take long for Tom to tidy up. He double-checked the bathroom for hair and tidied the hoover away. He returned the chair to his room and descended to the ground floor.

Roxy had returned to her original table and was enjoying another coffee. Kitty was signing in guests at the bar. Tom thanked Roxy again as he passed her on his way to the kitchen, where he would be greeted with nods of approval and put on his black apron.

From then on, the day was a blur of waiting on tables and clearing plates for Tom. He ensured Roxy received all his attention whenever he had time. When he couldn’t, she enjoyed reading various holographic magazines as she ate or sipped tea or coffee, watching the rain squalls outside.

Despite some guests canceling, Kitty’s was full of fisherdogs, captains, wives, and families taking advantage of the fishing being called off, coming to socialize and eat out. Becky came into work as usual but was conscious that her father had not yet returned from his errand.

During the late afternoon, in a slow period for Tom and Sarah, with lunch over and dinner still a long way off, Thomas burst into the bar, calling the fisherdogs for help. He motioned for Tom to join them. They braved the storm and went over the road to the fisherdog’s small storehouse on the beach.

Tom had never been inside before. As he joined the huddle, standing amongst the concerned fisherdogs, he squeezed into the tight space that reeked of fish. Tom guessed there were thirty or more wedged in the stone-built building. Thomas stood on some stacked boxes and called everyone to order.

"As you know, Captain Brown went off on some errand this morning and is overdue. His boat tracker has not worked since late morning when he should have met the Mer-pod leader Triton.”

There was a ripple of concerned whispers, with fisherdogs glancing concerned at each other. Thomas coughed theatrically to quieten the crowd and continued.

“We’ve not had any response from Triton or any of the Mermen watchers. So we have to consider the worst. I need dogs to walk the coast and look for any signs.”

A voice blurted out, “You mean wreckage?”

“We have to consider the worst and hope for the best. We’ll set out Eastwards along the coast path and check every cove, cliff, and beach while scouring the horizon for his boat.”

The crowd all nodded, and a humbling of murmurs spread through everyone.

“Nothing is to go beyond these walls to Margaret and Becky.”

Fisherdogs started squeezing past Tom, some already in wet weather gear, others pulling coats on as they ducked outside into the gale. Thomas emerged from the crowd and thrust a coat and hat into Tom’s Arms.

"For some reason, I think you should be with us. You were seen talking with the Captain before he left. Is there anything you need to tell me?”

“He admitted Balthazar sent him on this errand; I warned him not to go; we can’t trust him.”

Thomas’s face angered and snarled, “I agree. We’ll deal with him later. The sooner we get out there, the sooner we can return to the dry. We have more than enough daylight left.”

Tom pulled the coat on but barely got it on before Thomas bustled him out into the rain. They joined a steady line of Fisherdogs walking out to the coast path. Faces peered out of Kitty’s pub through the rain-drizzled windows, knowing something was afoot.

Tom pulled the hat on to see Roxy watching him. She gave him an encouraging wave, which he acknowledged with a smile. Staring out of the bar window was Becky, with tears in her eyes, showing she already knew what was happening. Kitty stood alongside her, arms around her shoulders, comforting her.

Trudging along the path's incline up the left-hand side of the beach, through the cottages, Tom double-stepped to catch up with Thomas a few steps ahead, realizing he could assist on a level Thomas wouldn't have considered.

“I assume we couldn’t put any boats out?”

“No, he was mad going out. Like you, I warned him against it.”

“But you’ve not been able to contact the Merpeople?”

“No, normally, the watchers are around. But not today. They must be in deep water. Who knows?”

“What if someone were to swim to find them?”

“They’d be mad. And swiftly dead, look at those breakers.”

Beyond the cliffs, the sea was storm-tossed, with huge white-tipped waves crashing over themselves and any rock in their way. The pair hurried on, catching up and passing groups of Fisherdogs ahead as Thomas barked at them to spread out and search. They passed the Captain's house and hurried onwards.

They walked headlong into the biting wind as they turned around the headland. In front of them, in the distance, a fisherdog burst out of the tree-covered path, waving at Thomas. The fisher dog ran against the flow of fisher dogs, spreading out and searching over the cliffs. Panting as he reached them, he pointed out the white-tipped waves on the horizon.

"A few hours back, Old George swore he saw a flash of light out by the island. He dismissed it, thinking it was just a sunbeam cracking through a break in the cloud way out to sea. But now, knowing Top Dog is missing, he's not so sure."

Thomas nodded and patted the out-of-breath dog on the shoulder. Tom’s mind ran...

“The island? Do you mean those rocks out on the horizon barely above water at low tide and submerged at high tide?”

“Yes, but we always sail well away from them... The Captain wouldn’t have gone close to them in this weather. Low tide was an hour ago, so they would still be above water.”

“I can go... I can swim out... Come on.”

Tom burst into a run, losing his hat and leaving Thomas to run behind, his shouting barely audible over the wind.

“You can’t swim out there; it’s too far, and you’ll drown.”

Tom ran as fast as his legs could carry him, then dropped to his oddball all fours, running, knowing Thomas would be hot on his heels. They ran through the wood, and as they reached the fallen tree, he leaped over it and started making his way down to Mermaid’s Cove.

“Tom, you can’t do this. It’s madness. You’ll be dashed against the rocks. We can’t have two deaths on our hands. I won’t allow it.”

Tom was already stepping carefully down the slippery wet steps on the cliff, looking down a now tiny beach, the rocks and cliffs on either side being attacked by gigantic waves. Thomas was above him, out of arm’s reach. Tom folded the coat up and started stripping his clothes off.

He sought the notch in the cliff with his hands, searching through the long, overhanging wet grass. The deep cut in the cliff was still bone dry, and he stuffed his clothes in there as deep as he could. His boots were the last to go in. Standing naked, shivering on the stone steps, he looked up at Thomas, still pleading with him, his words lost in the wind.

"Trust me, Thomas. Wait for me."

He scrambled the last few steps on the loose pebbles into the foaming water, swilling around the beach's edge. Stepping deeper into the water, the waves tried to pull him deeper. He struggled to hold his position, took one last look at Thomas, and dived into the foaming sea.

When he hit the water, the turbulence exiting the cove pulled him out, churning him repeatedly like a washing machine. He swam hard to avoid being dashed back onto the rocks, taking the deepest breaths whenever possible. He dived deeper to get out of the waves.

He could barely make it and had to surface to gasp a lung full of air. He saw Thomas standing on the clifftop, searching the spray for him, relieved to see him further out. Tom ducked back under and swam deeper, finding it less turbulent the deeper he went, although solid currents still pulled at him.

The kelp beneath him was almost flat against the sandy bottom as he tried to pair his legs together, wondering how long his tail would take to grow. He nearly gave up when he surfaced for another breath, but his legs itched, hinting that tail growth had begun.

It saddened him to see he had barely moved from his last breath, seeing Thomas on the cliff waving for him to return. He was now committed and turned seaward to try once more. The washing machine effect diminished as he progressed away from the cliff, and he felt he was making headway.

Each time he surfaced to breathe, he checked his progress. It was slow and tiring, but he was winning against the wind and waves. He kept heading outwards, monitoring the sea bed, hoping for signs leading him to the tidal rock island.

As he swam, another problem played on his mind. Initially, he expected it to be noisy underwater, with the waves pounding the land, but he assumed it would diminish as he swam away from the cliffs. But every time he ducked beneath the water, despite leaving the cliffs further behind, a mish-mash of sounds, with squeaking noises, not unlike dolphins, in the background grew louder.

He could feel the benefit of a tail as he progressed. The sandy bottom gave way to rock rising upwards, signaling he was close. The noise underwater was now hurting his ears. He followed the rock, surface wards but staying clear of the rock, not wanting to get dashed against it in the swirling waters.

His head broke the water, and he saw Captain Brown looking like he was sitting on a wave. When the water receded, he was perched on all fours, clinging to the highest rock point. Tom swam around to face the captain.

“Hi, how are you?”

“Tom? What then? How did you get out here?”

Tom flicked his tail above the waves and smiled as yet another wave washed over the captain, knocking him aside and forcing him to scramble back on the rock pinnacle.

“Captain, how are you?”

“Wet and bloody cold. I’ve been here for hours.”

“It’s okay. I’ll whistle for Pisces.”

Tom waved the shell whistle attached to his neck but for the Captain to shake his head.

“Don’t you think I’ve tried my own. It’s useless, there’s too much noise. They can’t hear it. Tom, I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Is it always this noisy underwater during a storm? And I thought you’d avoid this rock.”

“No, it’s never that noisy. And I didn’t hit this rock. I had to swim here after something hit my boat, sinking it.”

Tom ducked his head underwater again. The noise was painful. He put his fingers in his ears and swum around. It still hurt, but not as painful. The noise was louder on the one side of the rock. Swimming further, he saw something glinting below on the seabed.

As he dived, the noise was unbearable, hurting his head, even with fingers in his ears. The kelp on the sea bed swayed to cover it, then uncovered the shiny metallic object. It was like an old-style lantern. He reached for it, and his hand received an electric shock.

He checked his hand. It was okay, and he didn't see a burn mark. He tried again to realize it wasn't an electric shock. It was a high-pitched vibration. He picked it up and swam to the surface. The vibration was so strong that it gave him pins and needles in his hand and arm. He could barely hold on to it as he rose.

He broke the surface twenty feet away from Captain Brown, who was searching for him while fighting to hold on to the rock. Tom held the lantern in the air and ducked only his head under the water. Apart from the slightly louder bubbling and sloshing of the storm against the rock, he heard exactly what he expected without the painful noise.

Tom trod water with his tail while one handheld the lantern out of the water. His free hand ran his necklace through his fingers until it found the shell whistle. He placed the tiny tube in his mouth, ducked under the water, and blew. Apart from lots of tiny bubbles, a high-pitched whistle that hurt his ears came out. He blew twice more and then swam to Captain Brown.

“Can you hold this out of the water?”

Tom asked, handing the Captain the lantern.

Captain Brown snarled back, showing his teeth.

"I can hardly hold on myself, let alone collect rubbish off the seabed. Throw it away."

Tom explained it was some sonar device blocking the Merpeople's whistle. He examined it to find what could only be a power switch. Thumbing it across caused the vibrations to stop, allowing him to ease the pins and needles in his hands.

With the device quiet, he dropped the lantern back into the water to let it sink to the bottom. Once more, he blew three high-pitched whistles through his shell whistle. He listened but couldn't hear a reply or acknowledgment, so he returned to the surface.

“That device is off now, so they should be able to hear us, so I’ve whistled again.”

“I can’t hold on much longer, Tom. Would you be able to swim me back to safety?”

"I don't know. It took all my strength to get here. Thomas is looking for wreckage on the clifftop with all the other fisherdogs. Is there any way we can signal them?”

"No, I used the last of my flares hours ago."

Tom ducked below the water again and blew the whistle thrice, but this time, he thought he heard three distant echoes. He popped his head back up to see Captain Brown now looking furious.

“Tom, I can’t hold on much longer. Please?”

“I think I heard a reply to my whistles then, so we may not have long to wait... I couldn't keep you above the water in these seas.”

He dipped his head underwater to repeat his three whistles and, this time, heard three definite replies. Tom surfaced to see that the water had almost covered the rock, and the Captain struggled to keep his head above water as the waves washed him back and forth. Now that he was sure help was coming, Tom realized he had an opportunity.

“You now realize I was right about Balthazar.”

“What? You’re going to boast. You told me so?”

“Why have you avoided the obvious after we had proof of his duplicity?”

The Sea washed over the Captain, forcing him to lift his head even higher to breathe. He glared at Tom, thinking things over.

“Okay. We never thought he would go this far.”

“We? You and Margaret.”

“No. The king and I. Have you ever heard of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?”

Tom nodded, but this didn’t add up. “The king? Why would the King be interested in what happens in Dogwatch Cove?”

“Because. You can’t tell anyone this. Only Margaret knows.”

“Okay. what?”

“The king is my eldest brother. I’m third in line to the throne. The bureaucrats have tried to overthrow the king before, and Balthazar is one of the most powerful. So, they put him in charge here so I could monitor him.”

“And he could try to murder you?”

“We didn’t know he would go that far. This world isn’t like this, Tom.”

“So how is Brock linked to all this?”

“We don’t know. We thought Brock may work for him.”

“I’d suggest it may be the other way around.”

“Really?”

“My paranoia now says yeah, we know he has a submarine, and it seems the technology for that sonar device, they want you out of the way.”

Tom didn’t know how much time he had before help arrived, so he ended his opportunity to learn more. Something had been niggling him since he first spoke to Chrys.

“Why won’t they stop the wormholes that brought me here?”

“I’ve told you; they are random, accidental ripples from the first tests.”

“I don’t buy that. It's not so random that you can predict them. Let me guess: it is all down to the positions of the moon and the planet’s gravitational pull. So, will the ones that brought me in spring repeat themselves in autumn?”

“Yes, they will return in autumn, but the scientists predict them.”

"I bet you, if I knew the orbit of each planet, I could predict them too. It can’t be rocket science.”

“So why the issue? You are thinking about returning home?”

"No. But you know how my paranoia has proven right in this case. What if I were a war-mongering parallel world? How would I perceive annual, predictable wormholes appearing and possibly knowing inhabitants of my world have gone missing?”

“We’ve not had a problem before.”

“No? You’ve admitted how previous visitors have gone mad, some possibly from my world, but what about the lizard people?”

“Not enough to be concerned about.”

“Maybe, not in this world. Trust me, in my world, they’d treat this as an aggressive act.”

“But they won’t be able to predict them.”

“If I can roughly guess a time, imagine how close they will be with scientists working on it. What about the lizard people? You do not know what they are like except for the bodies in the sea. For all you know, they could amass an army waiting for autumn. You are unprepared to fight an invasion; you’ve never had a world war to know what you are opening yourself up to.”

Captain Brown pondered, fighting the howling wind and waves washing over him. Trying to take it in despite the precarious position he was in. Tom had one last rabbit to pull out of Pandora’s Box. Now it was open.

“So, why can’t Becky become Top Dog?”

“You know how to push your luck. A few generations back, the bureaucrats somehow enlisted the help of the Queen to overthrow the king. Since then, they’ve never allowed any female to be in a similar position, not even mother, Margaret, nor Becky.”

“Surely it is just a title?”

Captain Brown glared at him just as a wave washed over him off his perch, and he had to scramble back onto the submerged rock. "No, there is more to it than just a title."

Just then, Flip and Flop popped up nearby, chattering in their squeaky language, saving Edgar from continuing his explanation, but not before Tom shouted, "Promise you'll tell me? I need full disclosure, Edgar."

Captain Brown glared ferociously at Tom for using his first name just as three Mermen appeared with Pisces.

“We heard your whistle. Edgar, what happened?”

It took a whole raft of explaining to catch Pisces on Edgar’s position.

Then Pisces explained hers, “We heard Killer Whales in the area. Orcas kill Merpeople indiscriminately, so with them and the storm, we left to head for deeper waters. This isn’t on their migration routes, so we assumed the storm had accidentally brought them.”

Tom explained about the sonar device he had found and that it must have been the source of the Whale’s song.

Tom swam down to find and return with the sonar lantern device to show a shocked Pisces.

“I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it.”

The mermen helped Captain Brown off his rocky throne, half carried, and half floated him across the rough seas. The group headed to shore for Mermaid’s Cove. Tom followed with Pisces, still holding the sonar lantern, flanked by Flip and Flop.

Tom caught Pisces up with his news on what Lucy and Peter had found about the genetic material in the yellow box that the Merpeople had found. He also told her about Balthazar’s involvement in the Captain’s false errand. Tom had to admit to ignoring her advice and biting the seaweed pod, much to her annoyance, but entertaining her when he described his resulting antics.

Pisces suggested the mermen head to the old Fisherdogs cottage beach, as it would be easier for Captain Brown to land. She sent Flip and Flop forward to tell the leading group.

She and Tom swam ahead to Mermaid’s Cove to warn Thomas so some fisherdogs could meet them at the beach and help the top dog reach home safely. Tom would also need the freshwater stream to lose his tail before the beach disappeared underwater at high tide.



To be continued