Ghost of a Smile g-2

by Simon R. Green

  JC stopped abruptly and looked thoughtfully about him. He pursed his lips, as though considering an idea he didn’t like. “Melody, who is authorised to come in here these days?”

  “A couple of night-watchmen, and a local security firm that takes a quick look round, twice a week,” said Melody, her hands flying across her keyboard as her various instruments woke up and came on line. “But none of them ever actually enter the building. Apparently, it disturbs them. Disturbs them so much they have it written into their contracts that they don’t have to come inside. And how do I know this? Because I’m the only member of this team that ever bothers to do their homework.”

  “You logged on to the files, on the train coming down,” said Happy. “God bless laptops for those of us who are slaves to The Man.”

  “Is he saying I’m a swot?” said Melody.

  “Teacher’s pet,” said JC, not unkindly. “From your extensive research, do you know if anyone has actually seen anything? Any named or identified thing?”

  “Not seen, as such,” said Melody. “More heard, or sensed. Everyone says this place has a bad feeling, even if they can’t agree why. One night-watchmen said he was followed by something as he made his round outside the factory. But he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, say by what. But he quit his job the next day and moved to another county. They get through a lot of night-watchmen. No-one stays long.”

  JC frowned. “If things have got that bad, why hasn’t the Institute been called in before this?”

  “Because no-one’s actually seen anything,” Melody said patiently.

  “Isn’t that always how it is?” said Kim Sterling, stepping daintily out of the shadows to join JC. “It’s always hard to pin down a ghost.”

  She smiled brightly on all of them, and they all smiled back, in their own ways. Kim walked a few inches above the dusty floor. She tried her best, but she still rose and fell a few inches in the air as she approached JC. Gravity has no attraction for the dead. Kim was a ghost and had a hard enough time concentrating on the important things, like looking solid and substantial when she wasn’t, without worrying about the little things. Like gravity, and consistency. She was a beautiful young woman in her late twenties, now and forever. A great mane of glorious red hair tumbled down about her shoulders, framing a high-boned, classically shaped face. Her eyes were a vivid green, her mouth a dark red dream, and she had the kind of figure that makes men’s fingers tingle. Because she was dead, her appearance was an illusion based on memory, which meant that not only did it tend to vary in the details as her attention wandered, but that she could dress in whatever fashion she chose. Today, she was a 1920s flapper, complete with cute little hat and a long string of beads round her neck. She twirled them artlessly round one finger as she stood before JC. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

  JC and Kim were an item, the living and the dead. Everyone knew it wasn’t going to have a happy ending, including JC and Kim. But while love is blind, it is also always eternally hopeful.

  Kim was a part of the team but couldn’t join them in direct sunlight. It dispersed her ectoplasm. So she only worked with them in the dark places of the world, stepping out of the shadows to fight the forces of darkness, all for the love of a good man. Even if sometimes she was scarier than some of the things the team faced. She beamed at JC and tried to slip her arm through his. But her ghostly arm passed right through.

  “I’m sorry, JC,” said Kim. “I keep trying to intensify my presence, but no matter how hard I concentrate, I can’t become solid.”

  “I keep telling you,” said JC. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here with me. That’s all that really matters.”

  “Young love,” growled Happy, staying a cautious distance away. “The horror, the horror…”

  “What I want to know,” Melody said to Kim, “is how you can turn up wherever we are, whenever we need you.”

  “Because I’m not really here,” said Kim. “I impose my presence on the world through an effort of will. So basically, any place is every place because wherever I am is a matter of opinion. So I can be wherever I want to be. It’s very liberating, being dead. You should try it. The physical rules of the world aren’t nearly as binding or restrictive.”

  “Spooky…” said Happy.

  “Shut up, Happy,” said JC.

  “You’re as spooky as she is these days, JC,” said Melody, slapping a particularly recalcitrant piece of tech to show she was serious. “After what happened to you on that hell train… It isn’t your eyes that changed. I really do need to sit you down and run some serious tests on you.”

  “No you don’t,” said JC very firmly. “You just want an excuse to wire me up and poke me with the science stick.”

  “For your own good, JC,” said Melody. “I promise; there wouldn’t be that many needles involved…”

  “You stay away from me, Melody, and from Kim. We are not your lab rats-we are your colleagues. You don’t tie colleagues down and threaten them with internal probes…”

  “Actually,” said Happy, “sometimes in bed, she…”

  “Shut up, Happy,” said JC. “Far too much information.”

  “Ectophile!” said Happy.

  JC and Kim made a point of drifting away a little, so they could have some quality time together. JC left footprints in the dust. Kim didn’t. Happy glowered after them and went back to join Melody, who was giving all her attention to her equipment as it hissed and purred and blinked coloured lights in an important sort of way.

  “I can’t believe they’re still together,” said Happy. “The dead and the living aren’t supposed to be together, for all kinds of really good reasons.”

  “It’ll all end in tears,” Melody said vaguely, peering from one glowing display screen to another. “I mean, they can’t even touch each other. Ever.”

  “There is more to love than the physical side,” said Happy.

  “Couldn’t prove it by me,” said Melody.

  “You worry me sometimes,” said Happy. “Actually, you worry me a lot, but… JC and Kim worry me more. It’s like watching a train crash in slow motion, and not being able to help anyone.”

  “Sometimes, people have to sort things out for themselves,” said Melody. “Even if one of them isn’t people any more.”

  JC and Kim walked happily along together, sticking to the factory wall. Close to each other but not touching. It was easier that way. His footsteps echoed quietly, hers didn’t, but they both pretended not to notice. Every now and again they’d walk through a falling shaft of light, and Kim would disappear for a moment.

  “I am working on refining my condition,” said Kim. “It’s not easy. Being a ghost doesn’t exactly come with an instruction manual. But I’m sure it must be possible to become solid if I can concentrate in the right way. I can become real, for you.”

  “It really doesn’t matter,” JC said patiently. “The living and the dead can love each other, but not as people do. That’s the way it is. I found you, and you found me, and I can live with that.”

  “I can’t even get into bed to sleep beside you!” said Kim. “I don’t sleep, but I do like to lie beside you. Whether you’re awake or not. I can lie down, but if my concentration wavers, I start drifting upwards, and end up bobbing by the ceiling!”

  “I don’t mind…” said JC.

  “Well you should!”

  They stopped and looked at each other, then they both managed a small smile.

  “I’ve had sex without love,” said JC. “Love without sex is better. Sometimes frustrating, yes, but… course of true love never did run smooth.” He looked at her for a long moment. “Can you feel… anything?”

  “Mostly, I feel cold,” said Kim. “Sometimes, when you’re asleep, I run my fingertips down your face, then I think I feel something… but it’s hard to be sure. I don’t have a body, only a memory of one. Mostly, I feel… distant. Like I’m hanging on to the world by my fingertips… Don’t say you’re sorry again, JC, or I’ll slap you!”


  “Like to see you try,” said JC. “Look, dead or alive, we’re both still human. Man and woman. We care for each other, in a human way. We have that in common, and that’s enough. Now, let’s get back to the others. They’re talking about us, you know.”

  “You can hear them?” said Kim. “I can’t hear them…”

  “No,” said JC. “But if you were them, wouldn’t you be talking about us?”

  They laughed, and returned to Happy and Melody, and the fully charged electronic equipment. They both fell silent as JC and Kim approached, and Happy did his best to look innocent but couldn’t pull it off. Melody didn’t even look up from calibrating her short- and long-range sensors. JC indicated to Happy that he wanted to walk and talk with him alone. Happy immediately looked worried and guilty in equal measures, his standard default position. JC laughed and led him away, so they could talk privately. Kim hovered next to Melody, pretending an interest in the high tech, some of which immediately stopped working, in protest to her very existence.

  “I’m getting a really bad feeling about this place, Happy,” said JC. “And I’m not even psychic. So what are you feeling? What are you seeing and hearing with that marvellous mutant mind of yours?”

  Happy scowled, looking around the deserted factory in a decidedly shifty manner. “To be honest, JC, I think opening up in here could be really dangerous. Even with all my mental shields battened down and welded shut, I can’t help picking up things. Really unpleasant things. We’re not alone in here. Something’s watching… and waiting. There’s no telling what might come jumping out of the shadows the moment I lower my shields.”

  “Man up, Happy,” said JC. “Show some balls and shake them at the shadows. You’re the team telepath, the mental marvel, so get on with it. Justify your presence here, or I won’t sign off on your expenses claims.”

  “Bully,” muttered Happy. “Can I at least take a few of my little helpers? My chemical companions in need?”

  JC sighed. “I thought we were weaning you off those?”

  Happy wouldn’t meet his gaze, fumbling in his pockets. “Most people take pills to see strange and unusual things, I take pills to keep the weird away. You’re the reason I need these things, JC, you, and the job. If you could See the things I See… or maybe you do, these days, with those amazing new eyes of yours…”

  “Stick to the subject,” said JC.

  “I am! The world isn’t what most people think it is,” Happy said sadly. “It’s a bigger world, and far more crowded. And if you could see what’s peering over our shoulders and tugging at our sleeves, you’d fry your neurons with powerful chemicals, too. If you want me to track down what’s in here with us, and look it in the eye, I need a little something to back me up!”

  “Take your pills,” said JC. “You’re all grown-up now. You know what you need.”

  Happy produced half a dozen plastic containers and rolled them back and forth in his hand, squinting at the handwritten labels. He’d moved far beyond mass-produced pharmaceuticals and worked his own mix-and-match magic to produce skull-poppers and mind-expanders of such ferocity they would have made Hunter S. Thompson weep with joy. He finally settled on some fat yellow capsules and dry-swallowed three with the ease of long practice. He straightened up abruptly, as though throwing off a heavy weight, a wide grin stretching across his face.

  “Oh yes, that’s the stuff to give the boys! Nothing like self-medication to hit the spot!” He giggled suddenly. “Who’s the man? Watch me now! Side effects are for wimps! My heart’s pounding and my liver’s whimpering and my brain is running on nitrous oxide! I’m moving so quickly, I’ll pass myself in a minute. Slow slow, quick quick slow suicide perhaps, but it beats the hell out of self-harming. Now, let me See… I was right. We’re not alone in here. I’m picking up all kinds of savagery, and not only from the murder. Rage, hunger, violence… and it’s not human. Not even alive, as such. Old, very old… Something really bad happened here, JC, and I think it’s still happening.”

  “That’s it?” said JC, after Happy had been quiet for a while. “I don’t know why I keep you around. Could you be any more vague? There are psychic pets on television who are more specific than you!”

  “I’m quite willing to go back and wait in the van till it’s all over,” said Happy. “Oooh… I think my fingertips are floating away

  …”

  “Walk on,” said JC.

  They made a full tour of the perimeter, sticking close to the factory walls. The shadows were growing longer, deeper and darker, as the light falling through the windows slowly faded away. The silence made the wide-open space seem even more oppressive than the encroaching night. It was growing colder, too, far more than the late evening could account for. Their breath smoked and steamed on the air before them; but only Happy could produce actual smoke rings. JC kept looking about him, convinced he could see something about to emerge from the deepening shadows, but everything remained stubbornly still and silent. They finished their tour without result, and rejoined Melody and Kim at the equipment centre.

  “Did the police find any physical evidence?” JC said immediately. “Anything useful, or indicative?”

  “Not a damned thing,” said Melody. “I read the official reports. They didn’t turn up a thing. Which is surprising, in this CSI day and age.”

  “Tell me again about the state of the body,” said JC. “How did Albert Winter die?”

  “Messily,” said Melody. “Ripped apart. Bones broken, organs torn out, skin shredded. You’d have to put a man through a wood chipper to do that kind of damage.”

  “So we are assuming a supernatural death?” said Happy. “A supernatural killer? Oh dear. I can feel one of my heads coming on.”

  “Could it be a werewolf?” Kim said brightly. “I used to love films about werewolves! I was up for a part in Dog Soldiers 2, before I was murdered.”

  “More likely the Big Black Dogges,” said Melody. “They’re not just a local legend; you get the same kind of phenomenon reported all over the British Isles. Dogges hunting… chasing, headless Dogges.. .”

  “How do they smell?” said Happy. “Terrible!”

  He broke into giggles again. Melody glared at JC.

  “You let him dose himself again, didn’t you!”

  “He works better that way,” said JC.

  He slapped Happy casually across the back of the head, and Happy stopped giggling immediately.

  “Ow! That hurt!”

  “Serves you right,” murmured JC. He knelt beside the murder stain again and considered it for a long moment. He gestured for Happy to kneel beside him. The telepath did so, careful to keep out of arm’s reach, and glared at the murder site in a sideways fashion.

  “Stop that,” said JC, not unkindly. “Look at the blood stain, Happy. Tell me what you See.”

  “Blood,” Happy said immediately. “Lots and lots of it, and a hell of a lot of spattering. If a man had done this, I’d have said there was serious passion involved. I’m picking up anger, rage, hatred, revenge… But this still looks and feels more like an animal attack to me.”

  JC nodded slowly. “Any ideas as to what kind of animal?”

  “Old,” Happy said immediately. “And wild. Not feral, though; there was intent and purpose behind this. And… the rush is wearing off, and I’d really like to go home now.”

  “Your metabolism eats pills alive,” said JC. He looked thoughtfully about him. “Bad places make ghosts… And this is a bad place. Made bad, long before Albert Winter was killed here. So what makes this factory building a bad place? There’s no record of any work disaster, or any great loss of life, and yes, Melody, I do occasionally do my homework… The real question is why did Albert Winter die now, when this place has been worrying but basically harmless for so many years?”

  “Hush!” Kim said suddenly. “Someone else is here with us. Someone living.”

  “Retreat into the darkness, my children,” said JC. “Let us watch and learn.”
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  They quickly abandoned Melody’s workstation to hide in the deepest of shadows at the nearest wall. An old man and a young woman came hesitantly through the open doors and advanced slowly into the great open space of the factory floor. The old man held up an old-fashioned storm lantern before him, the flame’s soft yellow glow pushing back the gloom. They moved steadily forward, sticking close together, looking about them with keen interest. Neither of them seemed particularly scared or intimidated.

  The old man was a stooped, fragile-looking black man, well into his seventies. He wore a battered jacket over a heavy sweater, faded jeans, and sensible shoes. His eyes were bright, and his mouth was firm, but his wrinkled face had sunk right back to the bone. His head was mostly bald, with little white tufts of hair above the ears. His stride was slow but steady, and he looked quietly determined, as though he had come to the deserted factory with some definite purpose in mind. And for all his evident age and fragility, there was something about the man that suggested he’d survived hard times and could survive more, too, if he had to.

  The teenage girl at his side towered over him, big, black, and busty, with a strong face that held rather more character than was good for her. Or anybody else. She held herself with defiant pride and dignity, and wore a long, patterned robe over practical sandals. Her hair had been scraped back in tight cornrows. She walked beside the old man like a body-guard, but there was something in it of family, too. She held a mobile phone to her ear, then waved it about, trying for a signal, before swearing dispassionately and putting the phone away.