Infinite Time

By Mark DK Berry

Chris wakes up on a camping trip in Wales with memory loss, while his girlfriend, Kate, is seemingly unaffected. As he experiences the same day repeatedly, he begins to uncover unsettling differences and struggles to make sense of his situation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark DK Berry
• Release date: Apr 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9780648539575

Mark DK Berry

Mark DK Berry's written works include fiction, non-fiction, poetry books, and audiobooks. He also writes and produces music. For further information visit www.MarkDKBerry.com

Book preview

1

It was sound that woke him first. The insistent cry of a distant gull, and then the light from the morning sun that broke to dance shadows on the side of the tent. Chris sat up and looked around. Kate was lying beside him, and he caught the scent of her perfume. It was one that she insisted on wearing even in bed and brought a familiar nostalgic feeling to him. He tried to remember where they were. His sleepiness had an amnesic quality and he could not recall. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her breathing beneath the sleeping bag for a while, then he lay back down and shut his eyes, breathed a sigh and stretched himself out. Pulling the hood over his head, he smiled to himself at the luxury of not having to go to work. In the distance, a gull cried several more times and then stopped, leaving only the quiet of the early morning as he drifted back to sleep.

2

Wake up, sleepyhead.

Kate was dressed and leaning over him, tapping him lightly, her long dark hair dropping over his eyes to tickle his face.

Hmm, replied Chris, not wanting to wake.

Let’s go for a walk to the next village. It looks like it’s going to be a gorgeous day, she said.

Sure, he replied, stretching and taking up the full length of the small tent as he did so. What time is it? he asked.

Time for breakfast, she replied.

Where are we?

Kate looked at him askew.

Der, she said, and tapped on the top of his sleep-ruffled hair then feigned a stupid voice as she added, where we said we were going… Little Haven, stoopid.

Oh yeah, Little Haven, replied Chris, but he didn’t remember.

Come on, get up and make us some coffee. said Kate, then she crawled out of the tent

Chris found his boxers at the bottom of the sleeping bag, and then he looked around for the rest of his clothes. He’d used his jumper for a pillow and the others he found tucked down the side of the tent. He dressed awkwardly in the small space, then got on all fours to peer out of the entrance before climbing out to join her in the fresh morning air. He looked about as he stretched himself into an upright position.

He recognised it as the same spot they’d camped the last time they’d stayed in Wales. Once again, they’d setup close to the cliff-tops in a farmer’s field surrounded by hedgerows. It was a long, rectangular field, and the recently mowed grass was still a thick, dark green. The weather had been good, so any mud spots were mostly dry, other than for the morning dew. It was farmer’s land, kept for cows in the winter, and then let out for camping during the summer months. There were basic toilet amenities; a sink, a shower, and firewood, but that was about it. Everything else required bringing yourself. Pitch a tent and park the car beside it. The farmer, or his wife, coming round in the evening to collect twenty quid for each night stayed. So far, they were lucky, and it seemed the camp-site had attracted no other visitors. For it to be so empty in the summer months was surprising. Normally, it would be busy.

Kate headed to the toilet block and by the time she came back, the water for coffee was heating on the small camp stove setup on the folding table Chris had pulled from the boot of the car. He’d got breakfast out too, and made a bowl of cereal for them both.

Here you go, he said as she arrived back, handing her a bowl of muesli drowned in UHT milk. She sat down in one of the camp chairs.

Eating in a daydream, they listened to the dull sound of waves crashing in the distance. Beyond the hedgerow, on the other side of the tent, and not far away, was a sheer cliff drop to the Atlantic ocean. Swallows darted about in the air, chasing their morning feed. The sun was warming the cool early morning, and Chris guessed the time to be around ten or ten thirty at the latest. There were clouds in the sky, some wispy and some thicker, but none that threatened to bring rain that day. He looked at his watch, but it was missing.

Hey, where’s my watch? he asked Kate.

She’d finished her bowl and was sitting motionless with her eyes shut, enjoying the sun.

Since when did you wear a watch? she asked.

Chris twisted his hand around his wrist. He felt like one should be there.

The water for the coffee finished boiling, and he poured it into a cafetiere, and then left it on the camp table to steep as he took their bowls towards the amenity block to clean them. When he got back, she hadn’t moved and was still basking in the sun. He stood watching her for a while before speaking.

It’s a two, maybe three-hour walk to Nolton Haven along the cliff-tops, he said. We could get lunch at the pub along the way, make a day of it.

Sounds good, she replied.

Chris poured out the coffees and handed a mug to her, then put the breakfast stuff away in the car before sitting back down.

You remember the last time we were here? That fox come out and started spinning around right there? I don’t think it knew we were here, said Chris, recalling how close it had come to them.

What are you talking about? asked Kate.

The fox. We were both sitting here that first morning when we camped here last summer. It came out to bask in the sun.

Yea, okay Chris, she said, but there was sarcasm in her tone.

The put-down felt unnecessary. He left it a moment to settle his reaction, as Kate went back to sunning herself.

Listen, he said, if we are going to have a good time together this holiday, we need to avoid having any fights. Can we both agree to avoid being unnecessarily sarky?

Chris. Kate opened her eyes and held him in a look.

Kate? he said, familiar with her methods.

We have never been here before. What on earth are you talking about a fox for?

Chris looked at her for clues, but she was looking as annoyed as he felt.

Kate, don’t be weird. We camped here last year in this exact spot. I remember it clearly.

Chris, I have never been here before in my life until we arrived last night. You told me you hadn’t either, which was the entire point of us coming. The only one being weird right now is you.

Kate shook her head and lent back in her chair, shutting her eyes again to avoid engaging further in the fight that he seemed eager to get started.

Kate… Chris repeated, but this time in a more hushed tone. She ignored him at first, but then he said it again.

Chris... she replied, mirroring his tone. Opening her eyes, she was about to have a go at him for it, but Chris wasn’t looking at her, he was looking to his left. She followed his look and saw a small fox had just come out from the hedgerow, maybe ten yards away, and was spinning around. It hadn’t yet seen them.

The fox played there for a while, gradually edging closer to where they were sitting, then it stopped and sat facing the sun with its eyes open just enough that they could see the glisten of light in them. It seemed like a happy fox. After sniffing the air a few times, it disappeared back into the hedgerow.

Okay, admittedly that was cute, but don’t be an ass, said Kate.

Kate, I honestly did not see that fox until that moment.

Stop with the head games, Chris. It isn’t funny.

"Kate, we have been here before. I remember it perfectly well. But that was odd because it did that before, too."

Chris, cut it out. I’m not in the mood, she replied, glaring once more at him, daring him to push her patience one more time.

Okay, okay. He held a hand up. It wasn’t worth the fight.

3

They left the campsite on foot and started the walk toward Little Haven, the first village on the way toward Nolton Haven, which was itself a few hours walk away. The road was a tarmacked single lane with tall, thick hedgerows on either side, allowing little to no view beyond them. A tractor might come hurtling down at any moment, but hopefully there’d be time to hear it coming and tuck into a hedge. People liked to drive fast in the country, but that morning nothing came by.

They passed a small chapel with a cemetery. Some gravestones were clean and had fresh flowers placed beside them, while others looked like they’d not been tended to in years, and many were leaning over precariously. A little further on, they took a left at a junction and continued on down the hill towards the village. When they arrived, it was quiet. The shop was closed, and the pub too. Not a soul was around.

What day is it? asked Chris, surprised to see it was so empty.

Saturday, replied Kate.

That is odd, he said.

There wasn’t much to the small fishing village. A few houses, most with dark grey slate tiles on the roof that contrasted against the cream-coloured stone