by Will James
“Ten?” He took out his phone. “Number?”
Molly reeled off her number and Dev saved it. “I’ll text you so you’ve got mine.” He looked at her. She seemed distracted, like she was listening to another conversation somewhere.
“See you tomorrow then?”
Molly nodded. “Yup, see you then.” She smiled. “Great,” she said.
“Great,” Dev echoed. They looked at each other.
“Well, I should go.”
“Yup, me too.”
The remained where they were, still smiling at each other.
“Bye,” Dev said. He turned to go, but he didn’t want to. There was something intriguing about Molly.
“See ya,” Molly called.
He looked over his shoulder at her. “Yes, see you tomorrow...” He walked straight into a lamp post and hit his head.
“Ouch!” Rubbing his forehead with his hand, he could hear Molly laughing as he quickly strode away.
*
Jenny Thompson stood in her kitchen and pounded the slab of beef with her mallet, allowing the misery to course through her. The rhythmic thumping filled her ears as she forced herself to keep thumping, keep kneading, keep living.
“Mummy?”
She stopped. Her daughter Sophie sat at the table in the kitchen staring at her mother. “Mummy what are you doing?”
“Oh, erm...” Jenny turned and looked at her daughter. “I was tenderising the meat sweetheart. It’s a bit tough and I wanted to pan fry it...” Her voice trailed off. To be honest she wasn’t really sure what she was doing.
Sophie nodded. “When will dinner be ready?”
“In about, erm... ten minutes.” Jenny forced herself back to reality. She had lost track of time again – gone off into her private grief. She left the meat and took a frying pan out of the cupboard then she glanced in the oven; the potatoes were nearly done. “Yes, only ten minutes now sweetheart.”
Jenny looked at the steak, the salad in its bowl ready to take to the table and realised that she had again cooked too much. Once the meal would have served four, but now only two would appreciate it. The accident had torn the family apart.
She felt herself slip again. She remembered the last time they were all together, before her husband had gone, before Chris had died. She heard laughing inside her head. They were all laughing, but she couldn’t remember what it was about.
“Mummy?”
Jenny turned, ready to snap. Why did Sophie keep on?
“Mummy, what’s that light?”
She stopped and followed her daughter’s gaze. Behind her, in the garden there was a momentary bright flash of light. She blinked.
“I don’t know, I...”
Jenny went to the window and stared out. The light had vanished as quickly as it appeared. She looked at the lawn and suddenly she spun round.
“Sophie! Sophie what do you think you’re doing? You know those things belonged to Chris...” Jenny’s voice rose until she was shouting. “You are not to play with his things! I’ve told you that! I’ve told you a hundred times...”
Jenny opened the back door and marched out into the garden. She snatched up the cricket stumps that stood in the middle of the garden, and the bat and the ball. She turned and Sophie stood at the door watching her.
“I didn’t do anything Mummy,” Sophie said. Her face had crumpled and she had started to cry. “I haven’t touched Chris’s things, he told me not to, he said...”
Jenny was at the door and grasping Sophie’s hand before her daughter could finish her sentence.
“What are you doing?” she cried, “You are eight years old, you are old enough to know how much this hurts me! Stop it Sophie! STOP IT!”
Sophie began to sob. Jenny caught her breath and released her daughter’s arm. She turned away and put her hands over her face. She too began to cry.
“He said he wants you to know how much he loved playing in the garden...” Sophie whispered. Jenny dropped her hands down and knelt to be level with Sophie.
“Chris is dead,” she said, her voice thick with tears, “he died in an accident four months ago. You know that don’t you Sophie?”
Sophie nodded.
“Then you must help Mummy get over it, you can’t talk about Chris like this or get his things out; it’s not fair...” Jenny pulled Sophie in to her and hugged her tightly. “You have to help me Sophie,” she said gently into Sophie’s soft blond hair, “you have to help me accept it...”
Sophie held onto her mummy. “That’s what we’re trying to do...”
CHAPTER 3 - North East Korea
Out in remote parts of the country, in the mountains, loneliness and darkness at night are enough to make the mind have visions, but the strike of a deadly snake will twist the mind into all sorts of images of torture. A young soldier in the DPRK was in the middle of one such hallucination. Unexpected heat for the time of year spread across the dark forest of mountains that surrounded him, and he began to sweat. Great droplets slid down his brow into his eyes, the saline sting obscuring his vision. He could see nothing except the seared head of the snake which rose up in his mind time and time again. He’d killed it but it had been too late.
His leg was throbbing and the pain was rising up towards his groin. His pulse was racing and the dizziness spread. He was done for; he knew that, no one would find him here in this darkness, in this night heat. He would be dead, probably from respiratory failure, by morning. He closed his eyes, drifting away from consciousness.
Suddenly he was alert. He reached up and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking furiously to reveal a strange white light dancing before his gaze. He rubbed his eyes again, harder than before. He must be imagining this. The strange light was still there and nervously he shut his eyes hard again, the hot darkness allowing him a moment to think. Is this it, he wondered, is this the end?
There was a flash of brilliance and he was lit up, blinded by the light. It lasted no more than five or six seconds, but he could see himself clearly, where he was, by a wall of rock. It looked for a moment as if it was the middle of the day and the sun was at its highest. It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and he was plunged into darkness again. The fear rose within him just as there was a call from behind.
“Comrade?!”
A beam of light – a torch light shone near him and then in his face. He squinted.
“Here!” he cried, his voice weak, “Over here!”
The soldier ran across to him.
Cha’anyom was an experienced soldier, serving in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea Army for more than fifteen years. This was his third deployment to the area and he knew the dangers; he knew all about this place. He wasn’t supposed to have knowledge of the past, of the spiritual; it wasn’t officially allowed, but Cha’anyom knew there was an echo of the departed here and it made him uneasy. This whole area was rumoured to be an ancient burial ground and they shouldn’t be here. Something bad always happened here. He too was sweating, but it wasn’t just the heat that made him perspire.
“I have anti-venom. Was it a viper?” he said.
“I don’t know. Can you see it?”
Cha’anyom shone his torch on the ground. “A viper,” he said.
“The light?” The other solder whispered. “Did you see the light?”
Cha’anyom hesitated. It was not good to show weakness by admitting to anything unusual. “I’m not sure,” he said. He wiped his face on the sleeve of his uniform. Memories of the light swam before his eyes and he closed them. It was the heat he told himself; it had to be the heat. When he opened them again everything was normal. Relieved, he took his water bottle and made his comrade drink, rehydrating. He prepared the anti-venom, but his hands were shaking. He looked across at his comrade.
“Hold still.” He administered the dose then he remembered the mission before they’d been separated. “Did you take the reading?”
The younger soldier nodded up toward the top of
the rocks. Cha’anyom shone his torch and spotted the small computerised energy meter on the rock. He stood and picked it up. He looked at the screen. Suddenly he shouted. He looked down at his bitten comrade and a different kind of sweat began on Cha’anyom’s forehead. Failure was not acceptable.
“We must report this,” he said. He switched off the computer and closed the case. He bent and lifted his comrade up, supporting him under his arms. “Come, the jeep is not far from here.”
They headed back to the vehicle, the older soldier half dragging, half carrying the younger man. It was pitch black and they almost lost their way, but as he helped the injured man into the jeep Cha’anyom knew that despite saving his brother, the consequences for not delivering what was needed would be dire.
*
The Colonel burst through the doors and strode over to Dr Johann Stamn, towering over the cowering figure in front of him.
“What do you mean it’s gone?” he snarled through gritted teeth, cracking his knuckles, hands twitching as if they itched to wrap themselves around Dr Stamn’s neck. This was not lost on Dr Stamn, who eyed the huge hands nervously and gulped.
“I-I don’t know sir,” he began nervously, watching as the Colonel swelled with anger. If there was one thing the man hated, it was unexplained events.
“Our meters picked up a strange interference at 11:05 and the matter just vanished. We’ve been unable to recover it.” Dr Stamn closed his eyes and waited for the barrage of insults and threats that usually came with a failure. The seconds ticked by and not a sound, so he opened his eyes and looked up at his superior.
The colonel seemed to be wrestling with himself. His face, once a blotchy plum colour was fading to white as his thoughts raced. Not long before two agents had returned from their task claiming to have experienced some kind of hallucination. They were already being detained. A light, they said and they timed it; 11.05 exactly. Coincidence? The colonel was shaping the world’s destiny; he didn’t believe in coincidence. He turned swiftly on his heel and strode away, leaving Dr Stamn as confused and disorientated as ever he had been.
*
Zack stepped off the train at Kings Cross Station and could scarcely believe his luck. He didn’t quite know how, but he had managed to get the train down to London without being discovered by a single guard. Getting past the barriers both ends had been difficult; he’d had to go through right behind the woman with the pushchair and he was convinced one of the children was going to spot him and pipe up, but thankfully they didn’t. Probably too intent on the sweets they were stuffing.
When he found a seat on the train, he pulled his hood up so as to appear asleep and the passing guard hadn’t bothered waking him; result. He’d been expecting the man to shake him roughly, or ask other passengers who he was, but he hadn’t given any sign that he was bothered by Zack at all. He had simply stamped the tickets from the other passengers, and continued down the train as if he wasn’t there. It was all very strange Zack thought as he made his way out into the cold grey air of London, gazing up at the majestic stone, steel and glass buildings that dappled the skyline. He remembered it – London was where he was from originally, where the first home was before Newcastle, but this part of the city was far more impressive than anything he had ever experienced. He continued to stare and almost immediately he collided with someone, a tall, flame haired girl who had been walking very fast in the opposite direction, but now staggered sideways, winded.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going! Idiot!” Zack growled angrily, patting himself down. Not that he was hurt or had fallen; it was more a force of habit. He was hostile; it was part of his nature. The girl turned, righting herself and stared at him. Her mouth dropped open.
“What you lookin’ at?!”
She continued to stare, though not in a confrontational way but rather with wide-eyed astonishment, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She placed her hands over her stomach, tapping it a couple of times as if checking that it was solid.
“I said...” He moved aggressively forward and she took a step backwards.
“You!” the girl suddenly snapped. She took a breath and stood a bit straighter as if she’d found her courage. “I was looking at you.”
“Yeah? What about me?” He stared defiantly back at her. She was pale, a spot of colour high on her cheeks from the cold. She had wrapped her arms around her thin frame as she looked at him, her feet planted firmly apart; a challenging stance. She narrowed her eyes.
“You don’t know?”
Zack frowned. “Know what?” This was unnerving him. Usually so sure of himself, rebelliously bold, he found himself staring at her and feeling... what was it? Uncomfortable, like she had something on him. He dug his hands in his pockets and lifted his chin.
“What am I s’ posed to know?” he demanded.
The girl watched him for a moment, her head to the side, as if deciding what to say. “That you walked straight through me; or at least I think you did,” she said.
“What? What does that mean?!”
She shrugged and turned to leave. She glanced back at him as she began walking away. “I think that means that you’re dead,” she said and she vanished into the crowd.
Zack stood there for a moment, too shocked to move. Dead? How could he be dead? He looked down at his arms, gripped his right wrist with his left hand and kicked the toe of his trainer against the curb. How could he be dead?
“Oi?!” he shouted, “Oi! You!” He began after her, darting through the crowds on their way into the station, pushing and shoving his way through the throng and no-one minded, no-one made a protest as he jostled and barged pedestrians out of the way. He caught sight of her way up ahead and kept her in his eye line. Hurrying now, pushing people aside, he worked his way nearer and nearer to the back of her.
“Oi!” he shouted again, “Stop!” He watched her turn the corner. He ran out into the road, dodging the black taxi cabs and sprinted to catch her up. She was just up ahead when she opened the door of a café and disappeared inside.
*
Molly stood for a moment inside the café. She was early; Dev hadn’t arrived yet. It was warm and steamy in there after the cold outside and her cheeks were flushed. She asked for a table and sat down, not really taking any notice of her surroundings, her mind racing.
She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Thoughts swarmed over and around her. That boy, the weird looking one, she felt him pass straight through her, like an electric jolt to her entire body. He was dead, she was sure of it because how else could he have done it and yet she could see him. If she could see him clearly, not just as a shadow, how could he be dead?
The door of the café opened and she glanced up. It was him! She picked up a menu and put her head down. He walked straight across to her and pulled out a chair.
“Hey! I’m waiting for someone.”
Zack noticed the colour in her face; the sudden flush on her skin with the warmth. He felt nothing; neither hot nor cold. He pulled the menu down. “So?”
“So stop it and go away!” she said.
Zack flicked the menu out of her hands and it skittered across the table. He felt momentarily weak and sat back in the chair. He put his head down.
Molly bent, picked the menu up from the floor and laid it between them. “You can move things,” she said, “that’s impressive.”
Zack looked up.
“For a dead boy,” she added.
“I’m not dead!” Zack growled.
“Really?” Molly looked across the café as the door opened again and Dev came in. She waved, keeping one eye on Zack. Dev came across to the table, grinning and carrying a dog eared copy of some maths book that looked well read and complicated.
“Have you ordered yet?” he asked, pulling out a chair. He said nothing to Zack.
“No, I was waiting for you.” She smiled and picked up the book he’d put down on the table. “Wow, do you really read this stuff?” She glanced at Zack and hel
d the book up. He was sitting with his chin parked on his chest not looking at anyone.
“Yes I read that stuff, but this one is an old book – I’ve had it for ages and read it several times. It’s like an old friend!”
Molly looked at Dev. He spoke softly and carefully, as if he thought about every word that he said. He sat down next to her, avoiding the chair that Zack sat in and Zack glanced at Molly, as if to say, ‘see, he knows I’m here, he’s just ignoring me.’
Dev took his jacket off and threw it on the chair next to him. It hit Zack and fell across his legs.
“So? A cappuccino and cake? The homemade cakes in here are brilliant! I’ll go and see what they have,” Dev said. “And I’ll report back.” He wandered off towards the chilled cabinet.
Molly saw Zack stand and dig his hands deep into his pockets. He looked at her and she had to ignore him and stare hard at the menu. He picked up her keys from the table and closed his hand over them. They disappeared. Molly looked up.
“Blimey,” she said, “where did my keys go?”
Zack shrugged. He dropped them back on the table and they reappeared again.
“That is really weird,” Molly exclaimed. “It’s like you occupy a whole other world.”
“Maybe I do.”
“What, like half in this world and half out of it?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t tell her that he felt weak with the effort of having to hold something physical.
Molly shook her head; they’d gone from ghosts to science fiction in one sweep of her house keys.
“I’m off,” Zack said.
“Where to?” she asked. He looked so forlorn, so young and alone.
He shrugged. “What do you care?”
Molly looked at him. “I don’t especially. I just want to know where you’re going to?” she whispered feverishly. “What you’re going to do? That doesn’t mean I care.”
Zack shrugged. “I dunno.” He looked at her and offered her a sad, lopsided smile. “I’m dead remember? I guess it doesn’t really matter where I go.”
Molly shook her head. “Yes, but...”
