Reviver: A Novel

by Seth Patrick

  The man introduced himself. ‘My name is Dr Sam Deering, Jonah. I’m here to talk to you about what happened.’ It seemed to Jonah that Dr Deering was nervous. A long time later, Sam would confess: every other senior researcher in Baseline had dodged the unenviable task of talking to this boy, Sam the only one who had accepted, however uncomfortable it would be.

  ‘I’ve brought some people with me,’ Dr Deering said. ‘Is that all right?’

  Jonah nodded. Dr Deering motioned with his hand, and in walked a roughly handsome young man whose smile seemed somehow incomplete. Behind him, a young woman, with short auburn hair and eyes he found hard to look away from.

  ‘This is Will Barlow,’ said Dr Deering. ‘And this is Tess Neil. They’re revivers. You’ve heard of revival, Jonah?’

  Jonah gave him a look and raised an eyebrow. Everyone in the world had heard of revival, and he had spent the previous twenty-four hours thinking of nothing else. He smiled nervously at the revivers. Tess Neil returned the smile. Will Barlow returned half of it.

  ‘Can I shake your hand?’ asked Barlow. Jonah didn’t yet understand what chill was, not really – he’d heard of it in articles he’d read on revival, but his impression of it was of a gentle sensation, some kind of tingle. It wouldn’t take him long before he understood and grew wary of physical contact, but for now, bemused, Jonah held out his own hand without a pause and shook the hand of Will Barlow. Reviver to reviver, there was no chill, of course. There was a sensation, though – a curious sense of recognition.

  Will Barlow looked at Dr Deering and nodded. ‘Very strong,’ he said.

  The fourteen-year-old Jonah had looked at Will Barlow and wondered why he didn’t like the man. Perhaps it was Barlow’s uncertain smile. No, he’d thought: there was arrogance there, in his eyes. More than that: cruelty.

  Then Jonah had looked at Tess Neil, still smiling at him, and for the first time since his mother had died, he had felt hope.

  * * *

  The door opened and a lanky male doctor came in alone, shutting the door behind him and grabbing Jonah’s chart off the foot of the bed.

  ‘Hi, Jonah,’ he said. ‘Dr Connelly. Glad to have you with us. I’ve been asked not to discuss your situation in depth, I’m afraid. Dr Deering wants to speak to you directly, he’s on his way.’ Connelly glanced at the charts, then looked up. ‘I think we can have the drip out now.’

  Jonah’s eyes darted to the doctor’s hands – ungloved. The doctor saw the glance. ‘Don’t worry, Jonah. It didn’t take us long to work out who had – uh – chill, isn’t it?’ Jonah nodded, and Connelly smiled. ‘Some things can be done with thicker gloves on, but some,’ he said, as he removed the needle, ‘need a little more delicacy.’

  ‘And the catheter, please,’ Jonah said. ‘Before I noticed it, it wasn’t a problem. Now it just feels very strange.’

  The doctor smiled again as he placed a plaster over the needle mark on Jonah’s arm. ‘I can imagine. I’ll send a nurse in when I’m done.’

  There was one question Jonah had been desperate to ask since waking. ‘How long have I been here, Doctor?’ How long do you have to be unconscious to need a drip and a catheter?

  Dr Connelly’s smile faded. ‘How do you feel? Rested?’

  ‘To be honest, yes. I ache a little all over, but yes.’

  ‘Good. You’ve been out for over two days. When you arrived, we thought you might actually be in a coma. Turned out to be exhaustion. Deepest sleeper I’ve ever seen.’ Connelly leaned closer and smiled. ‘You were tired.’

  Jonah laughed nervously. ‘I was tired. Right.’ The doctor clearly didn’t know the rest; the assault, for one. ‘So it’s … uh … Monday?’

  ‘Sunday. Now, I was told you’re not hungry, but I’d like it if you ate something. No reason why you shouldn’t, and every reason why you should. Any chance I can convince you?’ Jonah was about to decline again, when his stomach spoke up; a loud gurgle that broadened the doctor’s smile. ‘Good. I’ll have something brought in. Dr Deering should be here within the hour.’ He left Jonah to his thoughts.

  * * *

  Those thoughts turned to the time he’d finally been allowed to join Baseline. After meeting Sam, Will and Tess, he’d been invited to visit the facility every few months, but only for counselling. It was a two-hour journey to the ramshackle collection of buildings that Baseline consisted of, a bizarre mixture of decrepit and new buildings, which all had an inescapable greyness. The transcending purpose of this place – the search for what revival was, and for what lay beyond death – was at odds with the bland and grubby surroundings. He’d expected polished steel and glass, not all this worn concrete.

  Jonah met none of the other revivers on those trips. It had still been too raw, too difficult. He’d found himself isolated at his school, even though no one there knew anything about what had really happened. But the other kids sensed something different about him. It was the chill, growing in strength; he avoided contact all he could. He became good at it.

  Then, the month before he turned seventeen, he was invited to join Baseline as a reviver. That first, accidental revival of his mother was burned so deeply into his mind that he found himself dreading the thought of doing it again. Yet he knew he also wanted to discover more about this curious magic, this necromancy. He wanted to know what he was, and if this was the only way, so be it.

  Jonah was introduced to the revivers that morning. He found it overwhelming, so many people shaking his hand, genuinely pleased to meet him. In the middle of this, he started crying openly, covering his face and unable to stop. Someone took charge and guided him out of the room for a little privacy.

  He pulled his hands from his face and wiped at the tears, finding himself in a small kitchen area: kettle, sink and microwave, and a few chairs. A handkerchief was put in his hand, and he blew his streaming nose.

  ‘Come on,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘It’s good to let it out.’

  Jonah looked up. ‘I guess I’m not used to so many people,’ he said, stumbling through his words as he recognized her. Tess Neil. He’d not seen her since that day in hospital.

  Tess nodded and smiled and Jonah smiled back, realizing how beautiful she looked, and so much older than him, maybe mid-twenties; the thoughts of a sixteen-year-old boy filled his head and threatened to swamp everything else. He tried to ignore them.

  ‘My name’s Tess. We met before.’ She held out her hand.

  Jonah shook it. ‘I remember.’ There was warmth to the touch, and the same feeling of recognition he had had with Will Barlow, but most of all he felt an electricity. And it was nothing to do with revival.

  He found himself staring at her lips.

  She chuckled a little – kindly, he hoped – then let go of his hand and sat him in a chair. ‘Coffee?’

  Jonah nodded, sniffling and wiping the tears away. ‘Two sugars,’ he said.

  ‘We all know who you are, by the way. Your … story.’ Jonah’s eyes widened, nervous. ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t mean it to sound like a bad thing. You’re among friends now. You’ll like it here.’

  ‘I hope so.’ He blew his nose again.

  Tess came over with two mugs and handed one to Jonah. She sat beside him. He could smell her perfume, subtle and glorious.

  ‘Keep the hankie,’ Tess said, smiling. Jonah laughed, and felt better for it. ‘So, are you sure you’re ready for all this?’

  ‘I’ve been in counselling for long enough,’ Jonah said. ‘I must be. Apart from the crying, I guess…’ With a nervous grin, he took a sip of his coffee. ‘Strange thing is, I pushed for it. Every week, I called or wrote. Now that it’s happened I don’t know how to feel. I think I wanted to be here so I could belong. That’s pretty stupid, huh?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  He smiled at her again, sheepish. ‘How were you, when you started? How did they find you?’

  ‘Most of us were found in sweeps,’ she said. ‘I knew, myself. Things that Eleanor Preston had said in her
book struck me in ways they didn’t strike others. I turned up because I knew what I am, and there were all these other people who just wanted the money that the work could bring. One by one they’d be tested, and they’d leave disappointed. Then it was just me.’

  Jonah was lost in her. He was staring at her mouth again. He wanted to kiss her. He felt like an idiot. He tried to douse himself, tried to shake it off.

  Tess continued. ‘They showed me into a room. It was Will doing the first-round tests, the chill tests. He’s a nice guy, best reviver here. And he knows it!’ She laughed. Jonah tried to ignore the fact she’d called Will Barlow a nice guy. He could still remember that gut feeling he’d had about the man. ‘Everyone that morning had had chill. And when I went in, Will just said, “Yeah, you’re one of us.” Before he even took my hand. Like that, like there was no question. I haven’t met anyone since who could tell that easily. Then we shook hands and … well. Then I really knew for sure.’

  Jonah smiled and nodded. He blew his nose again, acutely aware of the thick, wet sound it made, and of how sodden the hankie was now. ‘Were you scared?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s OK to be scared.’

  Jonah said nothing, nodding. He felt tears prick his eyes again.

  Tess Neil put her arm around his shoulder and smiled at him. ‘You’ll be fine, Jonah. We’ll look after you.’

  And as she had smiled, he had felt the warmth of that smile flood him. It had buoyed him up for the day, and for the week, as he had listened to what he was taught, as he had observed the dead come back to a kind of brief life.

  As he had learned what he was.

  * * *

  Sam Deering finally arrived as Jonah was finishing the dinner Dr Connelly had sent him.

  ‘Hey,’ Sam said, a broad smile that showed genuine relief.

  Jonah looked up, his mouth full of dessert. He hurried to swallow. ‘Cookie dough ice cream, Sam. Just the thing for a not-quite coma.’

  Sam pulled over a chair and sat. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I fucked up.’

  Sam frowned. ‘Damn right you did. I can’t believe you took the case at all after what I’d said. There was no need. Jason could have done it, and nothing came up the rest of the day.’

  ‘You weren’t too hard on Never, though? I talked him into it.’

  ‘I was disappointed, Jonah. I’d asked him to watch you, for exactly this reason. I know you’ – he prodded Jonah’s arm – ‘don’t know what’s good for you.’

  Jonah lowered his voice. ‘The man I attacked … is he, uh, pressing charges or anything?’

  Sam looked away as he replied. ‘After they pulled you off him, Bob Crenner took the man away for a few words.’

  ‘To talk him out of it?’

  ‘No. To talk to him about Nikki Wood. What do you think happened, Jonah? How much do you remember?’

  ‘I’m still hazy … I can remember bits here and there.’ He thought about it for a moment – there was more, he knew, just out of reach, but it still wasn’t coming. ‘I think I had remnants. It just overwhelmed me.’

  ‘It was too soon for remnants, Jonah. You’d only just finished the revival.’

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘You thought you recognized his shoes – that was what you were shouting about. Do you know why?’

  ‘I can’t remember. Not for certain. But it felt like remnants, Sam. It was swamping me…’ He stopped. ‘And that doesn’t explain the attack.’

  ‘It was like Alice Decker, Jonah. Symptoms of burnout. Hallucination, severe fatigue. Anything could have been going on in your head.’

  ‘So the man’s not pressing charges?’

  Sam shook his head. ‘Bob played a hunch. He interviewed the man. They examined his shoes. They found glass particles that matched the glass at the scene.’

  Jonah was staring. ‘And?’

  ‘The guy confessed. Took Crenner to the jewellery he’d stolen.’

  Jonah’s mind swirled. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘You probably saw the shoes in the surge, that’s all.’

  Then something else came to Jonah: ‘Nikki hadn’t seen his face, hadn’t mentioned his shoes during the revival. It must have been a remnant memory, Sam. What else could it have been?’ Things kept getting worse.

  ‘It’s unheard of, for it to happen so quickly.’

  Jonah was looking at a month of leave, then assessment, and eventually another round of tests to improve his medication. ‘I recognized the shoes,’ he said, more details coming back to him. ‘His cough, too, and then his shoes. But it wasn’t just recall, Sam, it was more intrusive, like a…’

  And then he fully remembered what it had been like, how it had felt when he’d attacked the man. Jonah looked Sam in the eye and remembered that strange sensation, of being outside himself, watching; and his certainty that somehow Nikki Wood had stayed with him. Not just memories or images overpowering his thought, the way remnants were supposed to occur. She’d been present, and worse – in control. She’d forgotten about the shoes, he thought. She only remembered when she saw them again.

  ‘Jonah?’ There was a flicker of something on Sam’s face, something that worried Jonah. He was already facing weeks away from revivals. If he told Sam the truth, how long would he have to wait?

  Would he even be allowed back?

  ‘I think I need to see Jennifer Early again.’

  ‘You need to rest up, come back fresh. Put all this out of your thoughts. I want you to stay in the hospital until tomorrow, then two more weeks away from work. I’ve arranged for you to see Stephanie Graves on Friday. She’s the nearest thing there is to an expert in remnants, and if there’s even a chance that’s what you had, we have to look into it.’

  Stephanie Graves had been the senior Baseline medical doctor. When Baseline shut down, she’d continued in a university research position; very rarely FRS staff would be referred to her.

  ‘Pricey,’ said Jonah. He smiled.

  ‘She’ll see that you’re fine. And you can tell her whatever it is you won’t tell me.’

  Jonah’s cheeks reddened. Sam could read him too well.

  Sam continued: ‘She’ll have to give you the all-clear before you start revivals again. I’m gone in a week and a half, and I don’t want Hugo being talked into letting you back for any revivals until Stephanie says so.’

  ‘Sam, I—’

  ‘No argument, Jonah. You’ve shown you can’t be trusted to look after yourself. Now, as I said, you have to stay here overnight. I haven’t told Never you’re awake yet. He would’ve beaten me here. He can visit tomorrow and help you home.’

  ‘I’ll be glad to get out,’ Jonah replied, then added: ‘Sam?’

  ‘Yes?’

  Part of Jonah wanted to tell him the truth. The part that was scared: scared by the knowledge that it hadn’t been him that had attacked that man. It had been Nikki Wood, and all Jonah could do was watch.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said instead. Sam would explain it away as hallucination or delusion; Jonah knew it was more than that.

  After Sam left, Jonah lay back and thought about his other recent delusion: about Alice Decker, and where that truth lay.

  9

  Come morning, he woke with a persistent noise that intruded into his mind before sleep had fully left him. High-pitched tones, short sounds that were familiar. He opened his eyes.

  ‘It’s about bloody time you woke up,’ said Never from his left. Jonah turned his head to see Never playing on a handheld console, the source of the bleeps. Jabbing at it, Never paused his game, then looked up and grinned when he saw Jonah’s bleary face. He reached to one side, picked up a tiny US flag and waggled it. ‘Happy Fourth of July. How are we this morning?’

  Jonah sat up and gave the question some real thought. ‘I think I’m fine. Maybe going insane, but fine. Did Sam tell you anything?’

  ‘He told me Bob and Ray got their man. He said you must have seen something in the surge, enough f
or you to recognize the guy. The stress of the revival and your chronic overwork led to the attack. Makes sense.’

  ‘I don’t…’ started Jonah. Then he paused, not wanting to put Never in an awkward spot. ‘I guess it does. Sam’s making me stay off work for two weeks, and off revivals until I get approval from Stephanie Graves.’

  At the name, Never raised his eyebrows. ‘Right,’ he managed.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ said Jonah, suddenly uneasy – Never Geary being lost for words was unnerving. The situation was serious, and Never clearly knew. ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’

  ‘Whatever you want, mate,’ said Never. ‘Look, uh … Bob Crenner’s invited us out for a drink the night after tomorrow if you’re up for it. We’re meeting halfway, that ex-cop’s place in Stafford. He wants to celebrate the result, but only if you can be there too.’

  Jonah’s face screwed up. ‘That’s not such a great idea.’

  ‘Oh, go on. You’re not forbidden from having a drink. I asked.’

  ‘You asked?’

  ‘I wanted to pre-empt excuses. Your doctor said it’d be good for you to get out. You can have one drink. Two at a push. And I’ll drive.’

  ‘They’ll be talking about the case, Never. I don’t want to.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes. You’re allowed home at noon.’ He waggled the flag again and handed it over. ‘In case you’re desperate to get celebrating independence.’

  ‘I want to go home, shut the door and have a shower. You celebrate for me.’

  ‘I’ll do my best. Meantime, we’ve got an hour to kill. Game?’ He reached into a bag on the floor and pulled out a second console. Jonah realized it was his.

  ‘You went into my apartment?’

  ‘I did,’ said Never. ‘Your cat’s fine, by the way.’

  Jonah swore. He’d forgotten about his cat, Marmite. The animal had been a gift from Sam after he’d recovered from his breakdown two years before. The name had come from Never. When Jonah had seen the cat, he’d refused point blank to accept it, so Never had called it Marmite. ‘You hate it now but you’ll love it in the end,’ he’d said. Jonah had had to Google it.