London's Met police have the only Police EOD Unit in the country. They had called me in because after an X-ray , they suspected the device to be nuclear. It was a dirty bomb designed to make a large part of the London financial district uninhabitable. My name is Matt Rixon and I’m a captain in the 11th Regiment.

A quick recon with a robot equipped with a Geiger counter confirmed it. It was crude but tricky. We discussed moving the van which was parked in the square next to 30 St Mary Axe. The building is affectionately known as the Gherkin. It has many other names that are not so pleasant too.

I advised a 5 mile evacuation. This went down like a lead balloon. They evacuated just over a mile. London has a population of 9 million. Just to get the local buildings evacuated had taken and hour. Liverpool street station was close, that had to be closed making everything more difficult.

The only thing in our favour was that this part of London was mainly offices and shops. There are few people that actually live here.
The x-ray had shown a timer. I couldn’t wait any longer. I waited until the robot cleared the ramp and walked into the back of the Luton van.

I wore a MK5A EOD Bomb Disposal Suit. Fat chance of that helping if anything went wrong. They might give some protection against small devices, but not a chance against a nuke.

The rest of my unit and the police withdrew as soon as they retrieved the robot. There was an eerie silence. London is never silent. It unnerved me. I have defused countless bombs, from WW2 leftovers to terrorist packages. I had never worked on anything like this though.

I knelt next to the wooden chest containing the bomb. There could be any number of trips. The x-ray had only shown parts of its design due to the metals it contained. I opened my tool kit and looked down at the bomb. That’s when it happened. All I saw was white. Then I felt cold as the blast hit me.

I was dead. Which was odd as I could still think. I could still feel my guilt for having failed. People died because of me. Everything was black. Time seemed to stand still. It was just me and my thoughts.

I had joined the army because that’s what the Rixon’s did. Our family was a proud military one. I had ancestors in the army, navy and my great grandfather was a battle of Britain Hurricane pilot. I joined because I wanted to protect people.

Someone had told me once that a soldier fights for those who can’t. I liked the idea of that. That was one of the reasons I joined bomb disposal, my job let me protect others. I had failed. Perhaps this was my punishment.

I saw a pinprick of light in the distance. It grew larger. Or was I moving towards it? It was a pure blue, white light filling my vision. I had eyes? I felt a warmth fill my soul. I had a soul? Everything was going to be fine. I was going home, I’d be happy. That’s what I felt.

Suddenly I felt a surge of guilt. I didn’t deserve this. I had failed. People died because I failed. I let everyone down. I stopped on the edge of the light. I felt love emanating from within it. I should go in, but I didn’t deserve it. I had failed to protect my country and my friends.
I felt a sense of movement. I spiralled downward. There were flashes of light and I felt my being wrenched through the windows of light that flashed passed me.

I screamed. My legs were held open by two women wearing long Victorian dresses. I tried to ask what was happening. My mouth wouldn’t move.

“Push Elizabeth, push!” said one of the women.

“I can see the head!” said the other.

I was having a baby. It felt like I was being split in two from the inside. I screamed and found myself spiralling down once more.

I lurched into another window of light. I felt myself running. I tried to stop but had no control of my legs. There were others. All covered in animal skins. In my right hand I saw a long rough worked pole. On the tip of the pole was a flint spear head. I recognised this from a flint knapping course I had done a few years ago.

We were nearing a group of five massive elephants. No, they were mammoths. The largest reared up to challenge the leading men. Men? Possibly they looked almost like Neanderthals. The smaller mammoths turned and ran. I saw them disappear over a cliffs edge. I realized that this was the purpose of charge.

A cry went up and the group started to run away. Their hunt was successful. I lurched out and found myself spiralling again.

I was drawn through another window. I tried to talk but it seems I am just a passenger in these lives flashing by. I bent by the edge of a river. I saw my hands dip a rough wood and leather bucket into the river. I saw my face in the ripples. I was a young girl. Possibly 17 or 18. I had blond hair with a daisy chain around my head.

I struggled to lift the bucket and noticed it leaked badly. A thought came into my head.

“I hope there’s enough left for the pot.”

Did I think that, or did she?

I heard a drumming sound and turned to see what looked like a Norman soldier on a horse. I started to run towards my hut. The horse veered in front of me to cut me off. I heard screaming from the small village and saw other mounted soldiers swinging swords at the men.
The soldier dismounted and backhanded me with a mail clad glove. I passed out. When I came to he was forcing my legs apart.
Thankfully I was pulled back into the spiral. I was draw though again and again.

I was aboard a ship under attack. I could feel the lurch as the cannons fired a broadside. The smell of sulphur was overpowering. After my ears stopped ringing, I heard the surgeon.

“Hold him down you fool. How d’ya expect me to get his leg off with him thrashing about.”

I was a loblolly boy. A surgeon’s assistant. This was fascinating. I was aboard what I suspected was a British naval vessel under attack.
It didn’t last, I was soon back in the spiral. The next life I appeared in seemed to be a soldier in the Napoleonic era. The stench of sulphur hit me again as the hammer stuck the pan of the brown Bess musket I was holding. I had no control of my actions as my hands pulled a cartridge from my pouch.

I tore the cartridge open with my teeth. I poured some powder into the pan. Then the powder, bullet and paper went down the muzzle. I pulled the out the ram rod and pushed down. Then I put the rod back into the holder.

I hefted the rifle to my shoulder and fired. My body began to repeat the process again and again. I could see the column of blue coated soldiers coming nearer. They were losing so many men from the front ranks they were faltering. Men were tripping over their fallen comrade’s bodies.

Our line could all fire our weapons. This kind of warfare was about maths. Three rounds a minute into a column of men could kill enough before they reached you. The French column had conquered most of Europa. Then it met Wellingtons well trained men.

Turning my head to see the man next to me earned me a shout from a Sargent.

“Rixon! If you don’t keep firing you’ll find a French bayonet up your arse.”

Rixon. Was I in the body of an ancestor? I was sure that it was me. I had turned my head. I concentrated and managed wipe my forehead with my sleeve. It seems the longer I was in a body the more control I got.

Were all the people who’s lives I flashed into my ancestors? Was this something to do with DNA Is that why my mind perceived it as a spiral?

Before I fired another shot, I was back in the spiral. I felt the tug again. I was holding a tray of clay and leather mugs. They were full of a weak looking beer. I held the tray away from my huge breasts. As I walked, they threatened to spill out of my blouse.

I felt a slap on my backside.

“Giss another drink Sal.”

“You wait yer turn Tom. And don’t touch what you can’t afford you dirty old sod.”

I was glad it wasn’t all horror and fighting. The tavern I worked in appeared to be late medieval. I was only in this body for a few minutes when I switched again.

The next body couldn’t see. Was it blind? Then I felt warm liquid on my face. I coughed and spluttered. It tasted foul. My eyes opened. I had been asleep.

I saw a man pulling up his trews. Trews? Had he pissed on me?

“You dirty fucker. I’ll cut yer pizzle off.” I could hear myself say.

Scrambling to my feet I pulled my bollock dagger out. I intended to kill the pig. A hand grabbed my shoulder.

“Hold yourself John. It was the water from the pottage. He didn’t piss on you. Anyway, looks like we’re going forward to goad the French into attacking. Get yer bow. “

My body turned towards a cart and lifted out a yew bow. The creamy white wood of the back and the darker belly. There was no mistake. This was the weapon that won battles in the 100 years war. It shot the cloth-yard shafts tipped with steel bodkins at England’s enemies.

Is this where I was? The 100 years war. Perhaps even Agincourt?

This first chapter is a setup for the character to take part in historical events from male and female perspectives. He is traveling down his DNA path.

We all have DNA from a huge pool the further back you go. Approximately 20 percent of Neanderthal DNA survives in modern humans; however, a single human has an average of around 2% Neanderthal DNA .