Chapter Text
There was no point denying it anymore: something big was coming, and it started, of all places, on a small beach in Pembrokeshire.
Unaware he was about to witness Biblical history, Joseph Docherty set out to Druidston Beach that morning armed with nothing more than his fishing rod and a grudge against the elements. While inclement weather wasn’t uncommon in Wales, it had never been so severe as to stop Joseph from being able to fish all summer, the most recent tempest making it unsafe to even leave the house, never mind attain any hopes of casting a successful line. The rain was relentless, the wind merciless, with hail, thunder and lightning making frequent appearances too. Entire villages were reportedly underwater, sparking a national emergency that only looked as though it would worsen with the approach of fall.
Some cited climate change for the sudden turn in the weather. Some called it an engineered disaster by a corrupt government, or the wrath of some divine entity. Many others called these groups crazy. Questions of sanity aside, however, it was eighty-six days before there was a break in the storm. There was still an intermittent drizzle, and the sky remained the ominous slate-grey it had been for months, but one could walk outside again without fear of being hit by flying debris.
When Joseph awoke to the sound of birds chirping, he was only half-convinced he wasn’t still dreaming. Illusion or not, he bolted out the door before the sound could disappear, stumbling down the hill to the beach with only one shoe on. The stillness which greeted him made him shudder; yet, there was the sun wrestling with the clouds, and for the first time in months, a calm ocean, already dotted with figures who had apparently been of the same mind as him. Who knew how long this peace would last? It was best not to think about it, and instead run towards it before it revealed itself as a mirage.
By the time he reached the beach, Joseph’s other shoe had disappeared, but the feel of the wet sand between his toes only added to the thrill of it all. His hands were shaking as he fumbled with his line, the hook fitted with a crust of bread he’d forgotten to throw out of his jacket pocket from last time, and it was only when it disappeared below the water with a satisfying splash that his body began to unwind. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to fish: how time and space seemed to melt away behind him, replacing all his cares with the single task of waiting for a pull. His mind was never so quiet as it was when he was fishing. Nothing else mattered in those moments of stillness; there was no pressure, no hurry, no hidden dangers waiting to trip him up. How did he ever get by without this? Even the squawk of a seagull was music to his ears now. And ah, there, that gentle sea breeze, the one that covered your arms in goosebumps, made your mouth water with the taste of salt, welcomed you back into the body you were beginning to wonder you’d lost—
“Excuse me, could you possibly point me in the direction of the United Nations?”
With a yell, Joseph spun round to find a young man standing behind him. He looked as though he could be no older than twenty-five, the warm expression in his large brown eyes somehow bestowing him with a look of both youth and maturity. The sight made Joseph shudder for some reason. Kids weren’t supposed to have that kind of wisdom in their eyes, especially not when they were asking stupid questions like the one he was still evidently waiting on an answer for.
On any other day, Joseph might have been willing to play along with the joke. The boy looked innocent enough, with his fresh face and somewhat strange choice of attire—things might have changed since his era, but he couldn’t imagine a wardrobe consisting of tan, beige and a cardigan that looked as though it had been knitted by his grandmother was considered any cooler than it had been fifty years ago. He was probably just one of those kids who were ‘a bit odd’ and therefore found it difficult to make friends his own age. He’d known a few like that over the years and they tended to be harmless, but today wasn’t the day for taking an outcast under his wing. Today was about fishing. Anything else was an unwanted disruption.
“You know, it’s rude to sneak up on a man while he’s fishing,” Joseph grumbled, turning his back on the boy and recasting his line.
“Oh! I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude or anything. It’s just… well, I’m a bit lost. This whole place is rather new to me, you see. I won’t take up much more of your time, but I would really appreciate it if you could point me in the direction of something called the UN?”
“Very funny, lad.”
“Oh… um, thank you?”
“That wasn’t meant to be a compliment.”
“Yes, yes, right. Listen, I am really very sorry to ask again, but if you could give me even a general idea of where-”
“I see you haven’t yet figured out when to bring your jokes to an end, son. One of these days that’s going to get you a fist in the jaw,” Joseph suddenly snapped, a sigh escaping him when the boy blinked at him in response. “But I can see you’re dying for some kind of back and forth—you mustn’t have gotten out much during this storm, and typing away on those screens just isn’t the same as bugging a grumpy old man in person, is it? So, I’ll humour you just this once. Want to know where the ‘almighty UN’ is? Step right this way.” Barely able to keep the barb from his voice, he swept a dramatic hand towards the water. “Keep walking straight ahead, and eventually you’ll wind up in New York.”
The boy was silent for a long moment. “Oh… I see. Well, thank you. And may the Lord bless you.”
“Awful kind of you, but I’m not sure a blessing will do much nowadays. Now get, sonny. Go home and leave this old man to fish in peace while he still can.”
Without waiting for the boy to reply, Joseph turned his back again, his shoulders slumping when the silence continued unbroken. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but if time had taught him anything, it was that you had to put your foot down if you wanted to get anywhere in life—
“Oi! Lad! What are you doing! I wasn’t being…” Joseph trailed off, his mouth falling open as his eyes tracked the young man’s diminishing figure.
The boy should have been too far away to hear him. From where he was now standing, he also should have been waist-deep in the water, ruining that beautiful cardigan of his, instead of treading a path across it so that the waves lay flat beneath his feet like concrete. Joseph rubbed his eyes. Was this it? Was he finally losing it?
It was at this moment the boy turned to raise a hand at him. Even from such a distance, Joseph knew he was smiling.
“No, dear fellow, I am as real as you are. Do not tremble so, you have no need to fear,” the boy’s voice filled his head, calm and controlled like the ocean he had brought to heel. “If I had more time, I would have loved to have heard your story. Yet, an important decision lies ahead of me which demands haste, and thus I must leave you now. In the days that are to come, I will not forget your kindness in pointing me on my way. May you find the peace your soul has been searching for, Joseph Docherty.”
Before Joseph could react to hearing his name uttered by he who could only be the Messiah reincarnated, Jesus Christ flicked his hand, summoning hundreds of fish to the surface. They leapt across the waves in glorious silver arcs, their scales glittering in the sun which now broke free of the clouds. A bright beam shone down onto Him that had illuminated the world anew.
Everything became a blur of noise and motion then. Around him, Joseph could make out stunned cries from other beachgoers, which were soon followed by sirens, further shouts and eventually the rotating blades of a helicopter. Without moving his head, Joseph watched as the helicopter stopped somewhere above the horizon and extended a ladder down to the water. A figure ascended, the beam of sunlight following as the helicopter continued its journey across the Atlantic Ocean, presumably towards New York.
Even after it had long disappeared, and the shouts and flashing lights faded, Joseph remained rooted to the spot, the wet sand now up to his calves. His eyes were wet and stinging. His stomach was growling. His legs had gone stiff from standing so long, threatening to send him falling forwards whenever he next attempted to move. Yet still, he stood frozen in time, keeping watch on the spot where the Messiah had addressed him by name.
It was only when someone tapped him on the shoulder that he regained some sort of responsibility for his own body. He turned, half-expecting to see the lost young man there again, his eyes full of what he now knew wasn’t mischief or loneliness, but understanding. In his place, however, there now stood a woman in her mid-thirties or forties with a phone in her hand. Before Joseph had time to speak, she had thrust it under his nose, the waves of a sound recording just visible on the tilted screen.
“Are you a local? Did you see Him?” She asked in the blunt, unashamed way only a journalist could.
Joseph nodded. Although her face lit up, she gestured wildly at the phone in front of him, her desperation touching him in a way it would previously have just irritated.
“Yes, I saw Him.”
“What did He look like? Did He say anything to you?”
“He had kind eyes,” Joseph said after a long pause. In that time, the water had regained its magnetic pull and he turned back to gaze on the calm horizon. He could still see His silhouette standing there, tall and strong above the waves, enshrined by an elemental spotlight. “He said he hoped I would find the peace my soul was searching for.”
“And what do you think He meant by that? What do you think all of this means?”
“Ouroboros approaches his tail. The Beginning demands its End.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman frown. She took a step back then, although she still had her phone extended out towards him. Joseph smiled and picked up his rod.
“Don’t be afraid. With silence comes peace, and with peace comes freedom. It will all be over soon.” He let the line out to the very end and sighed when it hit the water. One last catch. Then home.
“Now, if you don’t mind, this old man would really like to be left alone in peace to fish while he still can…”