by Seth Patrick
His legs lost all strength and he fell to his knees, then to his side. The pain grew. He saw his chest. There was blood. He couldn’t move, only able to breathe in agonizing shallow hitches.
The second man started towards the gate.
‘Leave her,’ said Kendrick, kneeling beside Jonah. He looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth. ‘We’ll pick her up soon enough.’
‘What about this one, sir? Do we finish him? Put him out of reach?’
Kendrick looked appalled. ‘I know him. He’s one of the good guys.’ He paused for a second, thinking. ‘We take him with us. Whether he lives or dies, I want to know what the hell he was doing here.’
‘He knows who you are?’
‘Nobody does. We don’t exist.’ Kendrick raised his arm towards his mouth. ‘Pickup at gate B,’ he said into his sleeve. Then he listened. His expression changed. ‘When? You’re sure? We’re on our way.’ He looked to his subordinate. ‘Come on. Change of plan. We leave this one here, see what he tells the police.’
‘What happened?’
Kendrick shrugged. ‘We got lucky.’ One last look at Jonah. ‘I guess someone had to be.’
Jonah heard them stride away, unable to tell how much time passed before shouts and footsteps approached.
Annabel and Never sat by him, calling his name, crying and desperate.
‘No,’ Never said. ‘Stay awake.’
Jonah could hear sirens grow louder. There were vehicles now, reaching the building. Fire trucks. Ambulances.
But he felt so tired.
‘Jonah, please hold on. Help’s here. Help’s here.’ Annabel’s voice. Hearing it, Jonah felt regret.
He was tired.
‘Please.’
It was time to sleep.
37
He was nowhere.
Unaware of his body, yet aware of something around him. Some kind of space. Some kind of void. He tried to speak, but nothing happened. He felt a pang at the memory of Annabel’s voice, at the thought of Never Geary’s profound grin. He missed them.
A sliver of fear crept in. He imagined what it would be like to be in this curious place, and have a presence, large and predatory, encircle him as it had done with Eldridge’s subject, Ruby. He could almost see it, a huge black shark invisible against the darkness.
But there was nothing here, not now. The fear slipped away. He was calm. He wondered what came next.
A different fear hit then, a sudden vertigo, that perhaps this was all. Unending awareness, stretching out into eternity, just as the Thirteen had endured. The thought was terrifying.
No, he thought. That was not what the dead report. They don’t say they’ve been thinking, reminiscing for hours or weeks. They say they were aware only for a brief time, just before …
Just before they were revived.
There was a rush of noise and light, too brief to understand. Then darkness again, silence.
He wondered who was doing it. It certainly wouldn’t be Pru Dryden. Either she’d been in the building when it went up or – more likely – long gone with her money. Nor would it be Jason Shepperton, vacationing as he recovered from his wounds. Stacy Oakdale, perhaps, but the likelihood was that it would be someone new, someone he didn’t know.
He wondered what they would ask him. He had to be brought back, of course. The situation was too extreme to leave him unquestioned, even if it would achieve nothing. He’d handled many cases himself that had been little more than formalities. Would they want him to verify the story that two other reliable witnesses gave? And what good would the verification be? The heart of their story would be dismissed as the ravings of an obsessed group. Unity may have believed themselves the hosts of ancient souls, but nobody else would.
Brought back to be asked meaningless questions. Brought back to say good-bye.
I don’t want to come back, he thought. Please.
The pulling became stronger. This is the moment, he thought. Here it comes.
Fragments of memory came to him. He was sitting in a muddy field, staring at the sky, his dead mother in the car behind him. He was holding Daniel Harker’s decayed hand in a cold room. He was seeing Sam’s grey face, his jeans soaked in blood. He was running from Alice Decker’s revival. He was in Baseline, crying into Tess Neil’s handkerchief. He was waking in his apartment to find Tess had left while he slept. He was watching the bus bear down on the car, hearing his mother’s quiet voice: No.
Please, he thought. Let me sleep. Let me go.
Another burst. So much noise. It lasted longer, this time. He felt like he was being dragged. He wanted to stay where he was. Bright light flooded him, and he cried out in silence.
* * *
He opened his eyes.
He was lying in tall grass, a bright hazy sky above him. It was warm.
He stood, the grass up to his knees. He took in the scene around him, recognition hitting. The field where he’d brought back his mother. It had been a dismal mud slick the last time. His stepfather’s car was there, battered, rusted, its very presence the give-away that this wasn’t real.
‘Am I dead?’ he said aloud.
‘No,’ said a voice behind him.
Jonah turned to see Daniel Harker, looking exactly as he’d looked in the jacket photo Jonah remembered, with his long dark coat.
Daniel smiled at him. ‘I mean, if you’re dead, what does that make me? Hell, if I’m the figment of somebody’s imagination, seems damn unfair if they haven’t got the decency to be alive.’
Jonah smiled. ‘It’s good to finally see you, Daniel. In person.’ He held out a hand and they shook. ‘I’m sorry, though. About what Julia Hannerman said.’
Daniel shook his head. ‘I wanted to know. Not your fault it didn’t make good listening.’
Jonah looked around, marvelling at the detail of it all, wondering what this was. Not the preamble to revival, he felt certain of that. It had to be some kind of dream, albeit unlike any he’d ever had. ‘It feels so real.’
‘Tell me about it,’ said Daniel, looking at his own hand with the same expression of amazement.
‘Daniel, there was something … something Andreas said. Well, the creature that took him. What it said about every victim it had consumed living within it. It reminded me…’
‘Of remnants. Of me.’
Jonah nodded.
‘I don’t know what that damn thing was, Jonah, but it’s dead now. Gone.’
Jonah said nothing. He didn’t know if he believed it.
‘I wonder,’ said Jonah, running his hand over the top of the grass stems. ‘I wonder why here? This place.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Daniel. ‘But maybe you should make the most of it.’ With a nod, he indicated behind Jonah.
He turned and saw her. Uninjured, smiling in a way he’d not seen since his father had died. He stared at her, not daring to believe.
‘I don’t understand,’ he said to Daniel.
‘Maybe it’s what’s left of her, in your mind. The pieces you remember. The natural remnants Graves spoke of. Or maybe it’s more than that. I’d like to believe the latter, but I’m not exactly impartial.’ Daniel smiled, then tipped his head, urging him on.
Jonah ran to his mother, tears pouring.
They embraced.
‘My baby boy,’ she said. ‘My beautiful boy.’
He wept, holding her as tight as he could.
‘When you died, I felt so alone.’
‘You’re not alone.’
‘You mean you’re—’
‘That’s not what I mean.’
She held him and he held her, no thoughts in his head, only the joy of being with her again, whatever it meant. At last, his tears slowed. He broke away so he could look at her again.
‘It’s time,’ she said. ‘You have to let me go.’
‘I don’t want—’ he started, but she put a finger to his lips.
‘Hush,’ she said, smiling at him. She brushed his hair back from his forehead. �
��You have to let me go.’
He nodded, then held her again with his eyes closed, gathering himself. He took his arms from around her, and felt her do the same. After a few moments he opened his eyes. She was gone.
He turned.
Daniel was beside him now. ‘Think I’m off too,’ said Daniel. ‘Whatever the hell that means. Oblivion or eternity. Either way, I hope they do cocktails.’ They smiled at each other.
‘Good luck, Daniel. I hope … I hope you get to see Robin again.’
Daniel looked away for a moment, his face emotional. ‘Thank you, Jonah. And good luck to you too. Take care of yourself. And of Annabel.’
Jonah smiled. ‘What makes you think I’ll get the chance?’
‘Oh, I can’t guarantee it,’ said Daniel. ‘But just look around you.’
Jonah turned to look but there was nothing to see. He turned back.
Daniel was gone.
Jonah felt tired. In the hazy sun, he sat, then lay down, overcome by a sudden urge to sleep. He closed his eyes, wondering if he would wake, and where he would find himself if he did.
* * *
He felt movement under him. Light filtered red through his closed eyelids. The sound of an engine. The rocking of a moving vehicle. There was a mask on his face.
He opened his eyes. A female paramedic was looking at him.
‘Try and relax, Jonah,’ the paramedic said. ‘You’re stable. We’ll get there soon.’
Jonah felt a hand holding his. He squeezed it. Unable to move his head, he looked as far right as he could. He could see Never, Annabel beside him with her arm outstretched. She squeezed his hand in return.
‘Hold on,’ said Never. ‘Hold on.’
Jonah’s mother had been right.
He wasn’t alone.
38
Pain and dreams came then, punctuated by darkness; then a gradual climb towards lucidity, until at last he opened his eyes to an empty hospital room.
He groped for his recent past, remembering coming round in hospital after his mother’s death and again after the revival of Nikki Wood. He seized at last on Andreas. The fire. Tess.
He asked about his friends and was told both were fine, released after one night in the hospital. Once he had fully stabilized, Jonah had been transferred to VCU Medical Center in Richmond, the hospital where Sam was still being treated.
After a time, a doctor explained the extent of his injuries.
The bullet had hit one of his ribs, bone fragments peppering a lung and causing enough internal bleeding to kill. For the first few days it had looked bleak. After a week, it was still touch and go. Now, it was the third week, and he was out of danger.
Jonah listened on his bed and ached, breathing with care. He could tell he was being pumped with some kind of painkiller, a vague euphoria taking over whenever he lay still for long enough.
‘Your heart was untouched,’ the doctor told him. ‘Considering how much damage there was, you were very lucky.’
The word brought back the last thing Kendrick had said. Jonah wondered what form Kendrick’s luck had taken.
The doctor discussed the injuries with him, the long-term problems that might arise, the importance of making a careful recovery. Jonah found himself tiring, and soon he slept again.
* * *
More darkness and dreams. When he next woke, it took a moment to realize that the faces before him were real.
‘Hey,’ he said.
‘Hey,’ said Sam, sitting by the bed in pyjamas and a robe, pale and thin and fragile. Annabel and Never were there too, standing behind Sam. ‘We nearly lost you,’ Sam said.
‘And you.’
‘I was glad when they moved you here, Jonah. Meant I could keep an eye on you. Me and Never have a bet on which of us gets released first.’
‘I bet on Sam,’ Never said.
Jonah thought of Never the last time he was in the hospital, going around to his apartment and cleaning it up before Jonah was released. The thought reminded him of something else, and worry creased his face.
‘What?’ asked Sam, sitting up, concerned.
‘Has anyone checked on my cat?’
‘Marmite’s fine,’ Never said, laughing. ‘I’ve been taking care of him. After everything that’s happened, first thing you ask about is the fucking cat.’
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Sam stood. ‘I need to go and rest,’ he said. ‘I’ll try and come and see you later, OK?’
Jonah watched as Sam lifted a pair of crutches and took slow, painful steps out of the door. His stomach twisted at the sight.
Annabel and Never took positions on either side of his bed. Annabel took his hand.
‘You scared us,’ she said.
‘Has there been any word of Tess since?’ Jonah asked.
‘None,’ said Never. ‘And good fucking riddance.’
Annabel leaned closer. ‘We assumed it was Tess that shot you. Then we heard that someone had seen the other men there. Nobody has any idea who they were.’
‘Kendrick,’ said Jonah.
‘I wondered if they were from Kendrick.’
‘One of them was Kendrick. They’d managed to find out something about what Andreas was doing and wanted to know exactly what was revealed. He said they’d been there to watch. The fire took them by surprise.’ The image of the inferno loomed up in his mind. ‘How many people died? Did anyone else get out?’
‘Maybe thirty people dead,’ said Never. ‘The intensity was so bad, it might be impossible to know for sure. There were two regular building security guards who both got clear, and one of the six security staff Andreas had brought for the occasion got out, but badly injured. Nobody else survived. Some bodies have been recovered, some identified.’
‘Anything on Pru Dryden? Barlow? Andreas?’
‘Pru was already at home. She must have left right away. Nothing on Barlow, but Michael Andreas’s remains were identified a few days ago. Dental records. DNA check pending.’
Jonah thought of the heat, of the flames, and closed his eyes. Thirty people dead, but Andreas gone too. He hoped Michael’s sacrifice was worth it, that he’d been right about the creature’s mortality.
A thought struck him. ‘Were any of them … Jesus, was Andreas…’
‘Revived?’ said Never.
Jonah nodded. He’d barely been able to think it, let alone say it, but the thought must have crossed Never’s mind too.
‘No. I guess that was why Hannerman chose fire. By the time they were recovered, none of the remains stood a chance of revival.’
‘Thirty people, and Michael Andreas is dead. I don’t know how to feel about that.’
‘Put it out of your head, mate. What’s done is done.’
Jonah nodded, knowing damn well that he’d give it plenty of thought in the weeks and years to come.
‘So how have people been taking it?’ he said. ‘What have you gone public with? Just the interrogation methods or Unity as well?’
Annabel and Never shared a look.
‘Well, that’s the thing,’ Annabel said. ‘The police will want to get your side of things, and we need to get our stories straight.’
‘What do you mean? We just tell them all we know.’
‘We can’t go public with Unity, Jonah. I need time to nail it. If we went public now, it’d be ridiculed. Sources would clam up.’
‘What have you told them, then?’
‘We kept to Andreas’s own cover story. Turns out he’d said that he was having a private function for a select group of friends and investors. I said I’d been invited as a mark of respect to my father. I was allowed to bring two friends. You and Never.’
Jonah couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘What, is the fire supposed to have been accidental? Didn’t they speak to Pru?’
‘They don’t know Pru was there,’ she said. ‘As for the fire, some documents were sent to the New York Times a few days ago, claiming responsibility and laying out the rea
sons. They seem genuine. It may indicate that others were involved, although maybe only as far as holding on to a letter, mailing it if they didn’t hear from them by a specific date.’
‘What did it say?’
‘It didn’t give their sources, but it set out what they thought Andreas was doing. Bringing evil into the world. It said they were preparing for war in case they failed to stop it. If you want a taste of how the truth would be received, you only have to look at the response their polemic got.’
‘Not pretty?’
‘You could say that,’ said Never. ‘Everybody thinks they were a bug-shit crazy outfit of paranoid nut-jobs who murdered one of America’s all-time greatest geniuses.’
‘So when the police come, I tell them I was at a party?’
‘More or less,’ Annabel said. ‘Anything awkward, say you don’t remember.’
‘Do they know about Tess?’
‘They know a woman escaped the fire, not who she was. Your shooting was put down as just another part of the attack. For Christ’s sake, plead ignorance about Kendrick’s ID.’
‘And what about what Kendrick was doing, Annabel? Murder for interrogation? The documents Sam gave us? Have you kept quiet about that?’
‘It’ll have to be up to you, Jonah. I don’t think people will have trouble believing it, but if we want to bring it into the open, we have to do it right. I need those documents, if you still have them.’
Jonah nodded. But there was one condition. ‘Only if people can’t see how it’s done. Any documents that describe that, I’m still going to burn them.’
‘Deal. As for Unity, it’ll take time. There are people who knew what they were doing, and with Michael Andreas and the others dead, I hope they’ll be more willing to talk on record. But the hard part is how to do it so it’s not just written off as lunacy. Face it, Jonah, even the best damn piece I could write might just be ignored. Let’s just say I don’t think it would bag me the cover of Time. And there’s something else you have to face: if the world ever does believe us, revival will be in the firing line. The Afterlifers will have a much stronger position.’
‘Revival isn’t the problem.’
