Ch 2

Let Me Take You Down

Present, 2011, February 14th

4 AM

What's that noise? Lyssa quickly awakes from her dreaming after hearing a loud disturbance upstairs. She feels confused, slightly off balance and completely wasted, even though she knows for sure that there was definitely no alcohol involved. Really, now, that's not her version of a good time.

She looks at Sarah and Lily's sleeping figures. They obviously weren't disturbed from the noise, so maybe she dreamed it? But, no, it didn't sound dream-like at all, so she might as well check. Not wanting to go alone, Lyssa prods at Sarah, who is the eldest, being nineteen and all, to come with her upstairs. Sarah, however, is knocked out cold.

"Lily!" she hisses at her best friend, shaking her shoulder. "Hey!" Lyssa shoves harder, but Lily snores on, hugging her Paul McCartney print pillow tightly. "Damn," she mutters. I don't want to go up alone! Just because she's the youngest, did not make her chicken in these situations most of the time, but knowing the time of night and the unfamiliar location of a friend's home, it wasn't as easy as pie either to muster up courage so quickly.

Lyssa makes up her mind to check the kitchen upstairs, telling herself that she'll earn another George cupcake in the process.

At the top, voices interrupt the dark silence and Lyssa stiffens with cold fright. Oh my God… Someone's in the house! She knows it isn't Lily's parents because they're on their monthly motorbike run with a group of friends. They promised the house to Lily and her friends as long as Sarah stayed, being of age and all that jazz.

"How the hell do we get back home?" a voice whispers anxiously through the dark and a light comes on in the kitchen as Lyssa takes a step closer every ten seconds. The voice is male, a bit nasally and kind of familiar; like she's heard it before.

"I told you we shouldn't have listened to that bloke in the alley! Now we're stuck in some stranger's house!" another voice, also male, whispers back. It sounds a bit younger, though and there's a hint of –what? - British in his voice? It sounds a bit rougher than that to be a proper Brit accent, though…

Lyssa takes another hesitant step forward, two strides away from the kitchen opening. Shadows from the light cast themselves on the wall to form four figures. One of them is pacing while the other three are either sitting are standing quietly.

"Eeep!" she quietly squeals while flying back to the stairs and down to the den, her short moppy brown curls bouncing on the way. She quickly pops on the light. "Wake up!" she says, closing the door behind her.

"Bloody hell, whose turned on the damn lights?" Lily grumbles, wiping drool off her mouth.

"Sorry!" Lyssa whines, grabbing a pillow for protection. "It's an emergency!"

Sarah, her normally straight long raven hair properly worn, is now a tangled mess as she looks up sleepily through her bangs that cling to her forehead. "Wassup, now?" she asks groggily. "Emergency?"

Lily groans while Lyssa nods vigorously. "There're four men upstairs!" she moans, starting to chew her pinky nail nervously. It's a bad habit…

"WAIT, WHAT?" Lily shrieks, suddenly awake.

"SH!" Lyssa and Sarah hiss at their now alert and panicking friend sternly.

"I DON'T WANNA DIE YOUNG!" Lily wails.

"Shut it and calm the hell down!" Sarah commands adult-like, her maternal instincts taking over. No way was there gonna be a murder rampage in this house.

"What d'we do!" Lyssa starts pacing while Lily grabs her Hofner.

"I'll go and check it out." Sarah states simply, getting up and pulling her hair back into a tail. "You two stay here, yeah?"

"EFF THAT IDEA!" Lily shouts, gaining another shushing from Lyssa and Sarah. "I'm comin' up too!" she pouts stubbornly, hoisting her bass over her shoulder like a gun.

"Me too!" Lyssa squeaks.

"Oh and what, beat them to death with Paul's plastic bass?" Sarah scoffs. "I'd love to see that work." She rolls her eyes and sighs. "All right, come on, then." She grabs one of the coal pokers next to the fire place. "I'll bring a real weapon for us." She opens the den door before turning out the light. Lily and Lyssa quickly follow her out.

"Macca can take 'em!" Lily whispers in defense for her Hofner. (Yes, she names all of her instruments… even the ones that aren't even musical.)

Sarah smiles slightly and shakes her head, "Stay close." She whispers.

Lyssa whimpers slightly and holds on tight to Lily's arm. Lily grabs Sarah by the hand as they go up the stairs to the second floor. When they get to the top, Sarah doesn't bother to ask where the men are because the kitchen light shines brightly in the darkness.

Then the voices start again…

"So what do we say? ' Oh, sorry we kinda appeared out of nowhere into your home?'" This is the second voice from last time. "Yeah, that's rich, Lennon." He sounds annoyed.

"Lennon?" Sarah whispers. She looks back at Lily and Lyssa, "That one sounds… Familiar, yeah?" she breathes quietly.

Lily nods with furrowed brows. "Kinda like George?"

"But he's dead!" Lyssa hisses in disbelief, now becoming curious. "He can't be in your kitchen today. Unless we're having a trippy dream…"

"Well, 'scuse me for tryin' to be of service!" This one has to be Lennon and there's definitely a bit of Scouse in his voice.

"Might as well find out, then, huh?" Sarah says gruffly, trudging them along again. "I'll be ready for 'em if it isn't." she grips the coal poker tightly.

"Careful," Lily breathes nervously, adjusting her Hofner on her shoulder.

"I'll go first…" Sarah whispers back, creeping through the room quietly until reaching the kitchen opening. "One… Two…" she steps in on a mental three.

Silence.

(Sarah's Point of View…)

As soon as I walk into Lily's kitchen, my feet freezing against the white tiles, the room goes noiseless and I catch my breath in surprise.

All four Beatles stare back at me with wide, scared eyes (except John, of course.)

I feel my being turn numb and I can't feel anything else except for the hard thundering of my heart against my chest. Someone must have spiked my food or something… This can't be actually real. You can't have all four freaking Beatles, all alive, all together, all young, today. As much as every new generation fan-girl wishes desperately for to happen, it can't.

"Who the hell are you?" I ask, dumbfounded and extremely lightheaded. I need to stop staring at lava lamps late at night…

John glances back at the other band mates, as if warning for them to be ready. He takes a small step forward, showing no fear and I notice he's wearing slippers because his steps are silent. I giggle internally at this when I realize all four Beatles, possibly in their early twenties, are wearing striped pajamas with matching slippers clad on their feet. It's too cute.

John unsuccessfully tries to attempt jazz hands, "You're dreaming. Go back to sleep!" he whispers in a hushed spooky voice. Obviously, he doesn't want any trouble from me.

"You really think that shit works on me? I'm effing nineteen, not five." I scowl at him and look at the other three. They look completely terrified and nervous from my little outburst. "As much as I'd love to think this is a dream, I'm gonna need some proof before I believe it."

"Someone give her a pinch." Ringo suggests with a shrug. Since John's closer he takes the chance and I wince, taking ten seconds to close my eyes, but when I open them they're still here staring back at me worriedly, except John. He's smirking, of course.

"Everything okay, Sarah?" Lily pops her head through the kitchen opening with wide eyes, her short messy hair sticking out at odd angles.

Before I can explain, John groans. "There're more of you?" he asks incredulously.

"Lily, don't freak-"

But she totally misses my warning because her green eyes grow even wider than they already were and her plastic Hofner comes crashing to the floor. She's absolutely speechless.

"Hey, I have one of those!" Paul speaks up, pointing at the fake bass with a big smile.

I smack my palm on my forehead and walk over to Lily. Lyssa is cowering under the dining room table with her hands over her ears and her eyes squeezed shut. I grab her first before shoving Lily through the kitchen's threshold and settle her onto a chair.

Turning back to the Beatles I say, "This is all of us." I point at Lily, "This is Lily Addison and this," I look at Lyssa's now white face, "is Alyssa Thomas. I'm Sarah Williams." For a crazy Beatle fan myself, I'm handling this fairly well. Perhaps I'm not fully sure if this isn't a dream yet.

George Harrison smiles and waves while Ringo politely makes introductions, "Don't know if you've heard of us, but we're a band called the Beatles!" he grins widely while I laugh.

"Yeah, well, we actually do know who you are." I admit nervously. "Don't you know what year you're in right now?"

John snorts, "It's definitely not where we're from." He looks around the kitchen with narrowed eyes, noting the difference of what normal kitchens in his time look like compared to this one.

Paul's looking around too and sees a calendar on the wall next to him. "2011?" he looks at me with amazement. "We're big in this time too?"

"Psh, obviously," Lily mutters. I turn around quickly at the first sign of her "recovery." Paul winks at her with a grin.

"So what year was it back… from wherever you've came from?" Lyssa asks nervously, looking at George.

"1963." He answers shyly, meeting her eye.

"But how did you get here?" I ask, confused. "It doesn't make any sense for you four to pop out of nowhere into my friend's kitchen!" I gesture at Lily.

"Oh this is your house?" Paul asks her, totally ignoring the question.

"It's really nice!" Ringo compliments with a grin.

"Yeah, all futuristic looking and stuff." George contributes.

"What do you call this?" John asks, pointing curiously at the chrome mocha machine Mrs. Addison got last month.

"NOW'S NOT THE TIME!" I shout with annoyance. "I want my questions answered first!"

"No need to get your knickers in a twist." John scolds in a nasally old man voice.

"Yeah, wait your turn!" Paul pouts.

Lily and Lyssa are dying with endless giggles and Paul goes over to the forgotten Hofner to pick it up. He looks at it and frowns. "There's no strings!" he gasps, looking at Lily. "How do you play this?"

"It's a- um- just a toy!" I make a save and take the bass from Paul. "See? Made of plastic; totally fake."

"Well that's a drag." He mutters, pulling up a chair next to Lily. I can just see her face reddening from that. She's probably thinking something along the lines of: PAUL FREAKING MCCARTNEY! IN MY KITCHEN! NEXT TO ME! THIS. IS. FAB.

What can I say? I know my friends.

"All right, enough foolin', lads," John speaks up impatiently. "We need to find a way home." He starts pacing around the kitchen with intense concentration, his brow furrowing.

"How the hell did you get here anyway?" I ask suspiciously.

John ignores me but Ringo answers instead. "Some old gentleman gave us free strawberries to taste." I look at him with a puzzled expression. How does that answer my question exactly?

"They were pretty fresh." George nods his head with agreement.

"Yeah, with a real explosion of flavor!" Paul marvels, searching for something in his leather jacket. He pulls out a pack of strawberries and offers one to Lily. "Try one?"

I chuckle as Lily's face turns as red as a strawberry itself and nods, reaching in the container slowly. "Ta," she mumbles embarrassedly.

"You're very welcome." Paul grins and looks at Lyssa, "Here you are." He hands over the package and she widens her eyes before hesitantly taking one. Then she shakily stands up and stiffly walks over to me so that I can get one too.

My friends wait for me before eating and I wait for the guys to grab one too. "Cheers," John mutters and we all take a bite from our share. In a way, this is completely odd.

Paul was right, the flavor is amazing. It's beyond fab; a complete juicy swirl of all things sweet. I'm so lost with it that I totally become unaware of what happens next…

(Lyssa's Point of View…)

I'm eating strawberries with the Beatles one moment and then I'm going down a red swirl the next. It seems like a dream, but a vivid and real one too. Maybe that's why nothing is making any sense as I spiral through a haze. I feel carelessly happy and odd, like nothing needs to be worried about and everything is all right. It's weird, but somehow peaceful.

Before I can enjoy it any longer the feeling is gone and my stomach does a summersault while my vision goes black.

Whoa…

(John's Point of View…)

Bloody effing brilliant… So the strawberries are spiked with something that makes us go mad. How else would we have the same trippy episode as last time again? It's these damn strawberries!

I blame Paul for this. He's the one who convinced me to take the stupid things from that old man and when we ate them we got sent to that bird's house in the effing future! Then, not learning from his damn mistakes, the saint McCartney handed them out again and here we are… in our rented flat of the… boarding house?

…We're home?

Knew it was a trip.