Hart sat and stroked George's face.
***
Part 3-Checking Out
Chapter 6: In Which We See Sarah On Her Way Out, And The Dead Hold A Funeral; There Is Also An Incredible Discovery, And An Unexpected Outcome
***
2010:
“No. No, I totally disagree.”
“Look at the way he keeps touching his face-”
“You don't believe that rubbish, do you? Look at how fast he's responding.”
“He’s shifty as hell.”
“That's total nonsense. Shifty. Pah. He's confident, assured, and look, look how he's looking him constantly in the eyes; that's an innocent man.”
“You can’t seriously tell me-”
“Let's just…agree to disagree, Bowler.”
Hart fell silent, tired. He knew better, these days, to disagree with Bowler in these moods. It would only end in trouble. Mary's daughter seemed to watch nothing other than Court TV, and even though Bowler was a fan, Hart didn't like it. It was a different world to the one he knew, and not just the American system. The way these people talked, the way they addressed the court and each other. It was alien to him, and uncomfortable. But Bowler wanted to watch, so they pretty much had to watch, and for tradition and sentimentality's sake he was reasonably happy to come back to Mary's place. And, in a way, he felt like he was being respectful to her. Thanking her for all the nice times they'd had courtesy of her place, even if it wasn't as good as it used to be. Many things were different now, he thought, sadly.
He turned his attention to Mary's fat daughter, plonked on the settee eating, as usual. She'd wasted no time in moving into the flat as soon as Mary had died, and though she'd changed little about the place in the last 5 years, it just...wasn't Mary's place any more. The amount of mess was far greater, for starters.
He tuned back in to Bowler, who had carried on talking about the defendant's body language some more regardless of Hart’s request to leave it, holding his own court. Bowler’s vision in The Foyer was now as good as anyone’s, and-Hart had to admit, to himself at least-superior to Hart's. Bowler had come a long way, and in many respects. Hart sighed.
“What?” said Bowler. It was almost impatient.
“Just looking at the judge.” Hart said, keeping his tone civil.
“What about him?”
“Oh, come on...he doesn't remind you of anyone?” Hart furthered, enjoying the superiority and trying to start a game..
“No. Just tell me.?”
“Someone that used to hang around...sadly no longer with us?”
Bowler scowled, irritated by the test, but his face relaxed as he remembered.
“Oh...George.”
“That's right.”
Pause.
“I don't see it,” said Bowler, flatly.
“But he's the absolute spit of the man..”
“He was a nice guy, George. Just...just a good, solid guy.”
“Yes, he was.”
“You remember I was the one that went and told Sarah?” said Bowler, his tone impossible to read.
“Yes, I remember.”
“I saw her today. Sarah.”
Hart stiffened slightly. He thought he might know where this was going, and wanted to get through just one day this year without an argument. But if Bowler wanted one, there tended to be one. So there was no point in tip-toeing.
“How is she? Did she talk to you?”
“Yeah, she did, for once. She's...really bad. I could barely understand a word she was trying to tell me. I knew she'd gotten really bad, but...she was really bad.”
Hart nearly smiled. For a moment there, Bowler had actually sounded like Bowler.
“She just kept changing subjects, babbling away. It's her eyes, Hart. I've only ever seen them like that in...well...in Mark.”
Hart didn't say anything.
“I said I've only ever seen them like that in Mark.”
“Yes, yes I heard.”
“Well, she looks like that now, but at least you could get sense out of Mark. Sarah's gone pretty much totally.”
Hart still didn't pass comment.
“You don't have anything to say, do you?” said Bowler, staring at Hart now, head cocked lazily as he lounged in the chair.
That made Hart angry. He wasn't going on the back foot today. He'd heard this enough times, and wasn't in the mood to take it.
“Not really, Bowler. I think we've had this conversation enough times. I think you've said everything you have to say on this subject. I think you've made your feelings clear without doing it again.”
“I'm glad you know, Hart,” Bowler said as he leaned over in his chair, a smirk playing around his lips. That cruel streak; enjoying having something to use against Hart. It made the older man think of his own courtroom days, of seeing the same face of the prosecution in full flow, enjoying not only the cut and thrust of their job but also knowing-or thinking-that they had the upper hand. He saw it in Bowler so often now. “You always act like you don't, though. Like you don't know that it's your fault. Her going Loose.”
“That's your opinion, Bowler, I tell you every time, and I'm bored of saying so,” said Hart, turning back to the TV. Despite his anger, he just couldn't face another joust today. He might have not been able to sleep, but there were still ways for a Guest to be tired. Bowler leaned further out, eager.
“Hardly, Hart. She stopped talking to us, hanging around with us-”
“Yes, yes-”
“-after what you did, Hart-”
“Yes, yes, yes...”
“-which is just a cast-iron fact, really. So that not being related to her mental collapse seems pretty unlikely, wouldn't you say?”
“She made her choice-”
“And let's be honest, she wasn't exactly solid before that, was she? So going off by herself was pretty much a disastrous decision in here at the best of times-but after what you did, who can blame her-but doing it in the state SHE was in...I think that's pretty likely that's what pushed her over the edge, I'd say.”
Hart didn't reply. They'd done this dance so many times now, and Hart had sat and given his defence over and over, one he didn't really believe. He knew Bowler was right-and so did Bowler, which was why he loved this-but Hart would not feel guilt, for, given the same situation. he would do the same all over again. And he would not admit Bowler was right. Either way, he wasn't playing with Bowler tonight. Bugger him, thought Hart, and something occurred to him.
“Regardless, Bowler, if I were you, I'd stay away from Sarah. If she's gone Loose, she could be dangerous,” Hart said. Bowler just scoffed, and then there was silence in the room.
After a few moments, Hart snuck a glance at Bowler. There it was again. He'd thought he'd seen it out of the corner of his eye a few times, but this time there was no mistaking it. Small, subtle, so much so no-one other than Hart would ever notice it, but there it was. A sharp twitch in Bowler's left eye.
Before he could say anything-and Hart didn't really know what he would say-Bowler stood. He didn't look at Hart.
“I'm going out.”
He stood there for a moment, then looked at Hart, and paused for a second. Then he walked out, alone. Not for the first time, Hart felt relieved. Things were different now. Strangely, almost like she'd waited for Bowler to leave, Mary's daughter changed the channel. She flicked around, and Hart waited, watching intently. With Bowler gone, the choice of channel was of vital importance. Hart hoped that it would be a soap.
And then she picked a channel, and what Hart saw dropped the bottom out of his world.
***
“Do you want to go first?” asks Hart, though he already knows what the answer will be.
“Nah...you can.”
Hart nods, and tries to remember what he'd planned to say. Not having so much as a napkin to make notes on renders speech making much harder.
They're stood by the fountain in the lower precinct, solitary in the centre of town. The shops are
all closed, and the winter midnight gives everything a sense of occasion; perfect. This was the idea. Exactly the right feeling for a funeral.
As Bowler had rightly pointed out, they couldn't bury George's body, even though for some reason, it didn't sink into the floor as they would have expected. When they'd tried to move it, they’d found out a possible reason why; it was so light, like a thin fibreglass shell. Only the flakes that broke off George's body as it rapidly disintegrated had sank. It made no sense, but then there were so many things about the physics of the Foyer that didn't either, so they’d just accepted it without too much question. After all, how can they know how second-time-dead bodies worked here? They'd never seen one before.
And although it had looked very much like George’s body would disintegrate entirely within a few days-the amount of flakes that had appeared around his body in the first hour alone had suggested that possibility-both Bowler and Hart had very much wanted to mark his passing with some kind of ceremony. George had been a good friend to the pair of them.
And so the idea had been hit upon to place the body in the fountain at midnight and say a few words. Not only, they had theorised, would the body slowly disappear as it crumbled, but it was a nice ceremonial idea. George always loved the precinct, and a water burial seemed as good as they could get anyway.
This is all totally uncharted territory for Hart. He has no idea how permanent the physical presence lasts in The Foyer after a second death-he’d had no idea that it was even possible to 'die' in here until it happened to George-and this simply seems like the best they can do. There are many, many questions raised by this-not least of all how it happened, who did it, and what it means for Bowler and Hart-but they can wait. Right now, they have a job to do. And here they are; Hart is to go first, as he looks at George's body resting on the edge of the fountain.
“George...” he starts, and falters immediately, lost in a mental block and his own discomfort. “You will never be forgotten. You were...much loved by Bowler and I; but it was more than that. In this place...friends are...vital. Absolutely vital. They are one’s life blood. And to have a friend as kind and friendly and good as you in that situation, well...you were an immense blessing, and your loss is incalculable...”
Hart loses his train of thought again as Bowler starts to cry gently but helplessly beside him. Hart knows how painful and tough this is for him, but for Bowler...Hart worries about him. He wonders how much more Bowler can take, and realises with a sinking feeling that it's just them now. Who else is there? Hart thinks. Mark? Loose. Sarah? On her way out. No one else now. Just us two. How the hell will Bowler cope? Hart pushes thoughts of a Loose Bowler away and continues his speech, and feels, when he’s done, that he does as good a job as possible in the circumstances. Surprisingly for Hart, he feels no shame when his voice cracks and tears spill down his cheeks. When he finishes, he looks to Bowler, who nods tearfully, and steps forward. Bowler looks down at George's body resting on the edge of the fountain. It was effortlessly light to carry here, horribly so. He bites back anger, and begins his own fumbling speech.
“I'm gonna miss you George...”
A few minutes later, he is finished. He gestures wordlessly to Hart, unable to meet his eye, and fumbles blindly to grip George's shoulders. Hart takes George’s ankles, and they lower him into the water. He looks very, very still and cold in there.
“Goodbye, George,” says Bowler.
They stand there looking into the water for a few minutes. A taxi drives past at the top of the precinct slope.
“We need to warn Sarah,” says Bowler, quietly. He hadn't been able to find her after he set off to do so; this is the is sixth time he's said it.
“We need to tell her, yes,” says Hart, kindly, “but we don't know yet if we need to warn her. I know Mark is the most likely suspect,” he adds quickly and firmly, not looking at Bowler but raising a hand to quieten his complaint, “But we can't go slandering him until we know for certain. He's alone here, like the rest of us. To decide this about him before we definitely know is to...well...to damn him. You know what I mean, Bowler.”
Bowler nods but doesn't let it drop.
“You know what a weird, twitchy fucker he is Hart. He did this. He fucking DID this. Look at George, Hart. LOOK at him.”
“I said I agree that he probably did. But you can't say so to Sarah. You can even tell her your suspicions, if you like. But you can't TELL her he did it. You understand why, Bowler, and you know it wouldn't be right, or proper.”
There is a pause.
“He sucked him in, Hart,” says Bowler, his voice low and angry. “He was up to something. George KNEW. And whatever it was, George paid the price. You know I'm right, Hart. They were always slinking off together. We should've warned him...he was always too, whatsit, too...trusting.”
“But he was no-one's fool, George. Don't forget that. I don't think Mark sucked him in, or tricked him.”
Bowler fumed quietly, staring at George and rocking back and forth on his heels. He looks at Hart in a way he never has before.
“No. No, Hart. You're wrong.”
***
Hart fell backwards, his legs and bottom passing through the floor several inches. He didn't even notice. He wiped his face with a trembling hand in a pointless attempt to clear his vision, but of course what he saw didn't change. It was there, clear as a bell, undeniable, and devastating in its impact.
“Good God in heaven,” he thought. “It's true...”
***
Bowler eventually finds Sarah walking, as he'd rightly assumed, along The Wall. It had just been a matter of circling the perimeter until eventually she showed up, and the small gamble has paid off sooner than he'd thought. He's found her as he headed towards the train station to start his lap. She'd been coming the other way, as if she was done for the day. This is totally contradictory to Bowler and Hart's behaviour; they like to wander and walk at night, trying to pass the time as best as possible until morning comes and people start turning on their TVs again. She'd seemed fairly relaxed when he'd seen her, meeting him at the edge of the ring road where the slip road headed up to the roundabout. She'd responded to his greeting warmly, and had moved agreeably enough onto the roundabout with him (Bowler, like Hart, was never totally happy standing in the road) but it becomes clear very quickly that all was not as well as he'd initially assumed, and it does so most clearly when he tries to tell her about George.
It’’s hard, especially at first when trying to even get her to realise who he's talking about, but after several repetitions of the motion for George's bald head and round stomach, she eventually twigs it with a smile. Bowler struggles to think of the right mimes at the best of times, first struggling to think of the best way to construct the sentence, then stumbling even more when it comes to thinking of the best visual representation. He reads this charade-speak a lot better than he signs it. But this is toughness on a higher level; not only does he have to deliver bad news, and to warn her about Mark (regardless of what he'd told Hart, he's going to do just that. If Hart wanted to bury his head in the sand, that was fine, but this was a matter of survival, and of looking after the one friend they had left. Hart could be one cold bastard sometimes. You had to look out for your mates) but he has to do it sensitively. He begins to wish he'd brought Hart with him...but then Hart would have been there like always, editing and putting his own spin on it.
Bowler scowls. Hart. Always so...distant. Even in here. When all they have is each other.
He looks at Sarah's face, looking way up at him (she's short, about 5'2” Bowler reckons) searching his own, waiting for him to finish whatever he has to say. She wants to be off. More coldness here, Bowler notes, and feels his shoulders sink that little bit further. When he tells her what has happened to George, it has taken several awkward repetitions of the fact he was dead. The concept was almost impossible to grasp here, let alone express by mime. How could someone die in the land of the dead? At first he thinks she is just i
n denial about it, but he very quickly realises that she simply doesn't understand. After miming that he finds it confusing too, trying to get the idea over that this is a matter of Somehow, It's Crazy But...and THEN doing the slit throat gesture, he sees the connection register in her face. But the worst thing is that even now, when she DOES realise what’s happened, she barely seems to have an emotional response.
Sarah's face just kind of twitches, and her shoulders move in a sigh. Then she nods firmly, as if to say, Ok, I get it. And that's it.
No shock. Then she wants to know how it happened, where he was. That at least was perfectly understandable, but this had all been so odd. Hart was right. Sarah was on shaky ground.
Bowler offers for her to come with him, but she shakes her head firmly, rolling her hand. She wants answers, and quickly, so she can get on with whatever she's up to. This feels so uncomfortable that Bowler just wants to be out of here, and decides the best thing to do is just to get this done quickly.
And so Bowler holds up a finger, and gestures Mark's big ears. Sarah gets it straight away, holding her hand up above her head. Big Mark. Bowler nods, and holds up a warning finger. The ears again, then a no-no gesture with the finger. Sarah holds her hand up again, questioning, the slashes across her throat with her finger. Bowler nods emphatically. And Sarah laughs.
Bowler gawps, and Sarah laughs heartily, and tries to gesture something to him, but she can't as she's convulsing too much, and it reminds Bowler of something he's seen only a few days ago. But now Sarah's gesture is becoming clearer; the ears and the hand, then the throat-slit, then George's belly, then suddenly all the laughter stops.
Staring into Bowler's eyes, blank faced, with tears now running down her cheeks, she does a double thumbs up, then George's belly. If George Is Dead, Then Good For George.
She holds his gaze for a few seconds and then, now suddenly catatonic, all life and expression gone from her face, she turns and begins to shuffle away. Bowler wants to call out to her, but knows not only will she not hear him, but he won't have the words to comfort her anyway. With a twist in his gut, he thinks that Hart would have known.
The Physics Of The Dead - A Supernatural Mystery Novel Page 18
