Death & Co.

by D. J. McCune

Where had the sunshine and the people gone? It seemed impossible but Adam knew that every moment of it was real. The sick, weak feeling had gone. A small premonition could be kept at bay but something so big, so close to home – well that was a different matter. It had to make itself known and already Adam felt a kind of relief.

  Of course his relief was short-lived. This was something that was actually going to happen. He still hadn’t dared to intervene in any more deaths, knowing that Darian could be watching for anything unusual, putting his Seer’s ability to use for the Concilium. But this was different! This wouldn’t just be one death – Adam could feel it. This would be lots of people – maybe twenty or thirty souls, not to mention all the injured who would be left behind. There was no way he could sit back and do nothing.

  He crawled upright and used the yew branches to pull himself onto his feet. The leaves were soft in his hand. He took a few deep breaths before he risked walking back to the house. At the kitchen door he met Nathanial coming out, his face worried. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Adam said, grinning like a lunatic to show how fabulous he was feeling. ‘I told you, I just needed to walk around and get some fresh air.’

  Nathanial frowned. ‘You couldn’t have walked very far. You’ve only been gone for a minute.’

  Adam cursed silently. Looking inside the kitchen, everyone was sitting where he had left them. It felt like he had been gone for ages but obviously the vision had only lasted seconds. ‘Well, it’s like you used to say. Fresh air, exercise – the great healer!’ He slid inside and smiled at his family. ‘I’m all right but I’m going to go upstairs if that’s OK.’

  Elise was staring at him through narrowed eyes, looking almost concerned. She pursed her lips but after a second she nodded. Presumably she was afraid his recovery would be short-lived and didn’t want to risk a full-scale chunder attack on the kitchen floor. ‘I will look in on you shortly –’

  ‘No! I’m OK, I just need to go to bed, I’m really tired.’ Adam feigned an enormous yawn. ‘I’ll be fine in the morning. Goodnight, everyone! Sweet dreams!’

  He fled upstairs before he could look any more insane. His mind was racing. OK, so he knew what was going to happen and where – but so far he didn’t know exactly when. He did however have a nagging suspicion growing at the back of his mind …

  In his bedroom Adam ran to the chair in the corner and grabbed his school blazer. An image from his vision was gnawing at him. He could still see the band and the girl with the green hair. There was something familiar about her sign, the name above the phone number. He pulled out Dan’s gig flyer and uncrumpled it, eyes darting over the names and places until they locked onto the last name.

  There was the venue – and the band name. Adam’s chest felt hollow. The Septic Kisses were playing the following afternoon in Trafalgar Square – which gave him less than twenty-four hours to figure out how to save a whole lot of people.

  Adam spent a sleepless night making his plans. An hour after leaving the kitchen he heard his mother’s light footsteps approaching the door and he leaped into bed, turning off the lamp and feigning the sleep of the innocent. After she was gone he paced up and down until something approaching a plan fell into place.

  There were lots of things to think about. Firstly, there was no question of letting the bomb go off; he had to do something to stop it. But with Darian snooping about, there was no way he could let anyone know about his premonitions. He picked up Dan’s flyer and smoothed it out again. It was going to be his alibi.

  Secondly, he needed to look like he was just there for the gig. There would be CCTV everywhere, not to mention people taking videos on their mobile phones. He needed to find something that would help him blend in but hide his features. Piercing his face or dyeing his hair green wasn’t on the cards. With sinking spirits he thought of the perfect items. Dan had been on holiday in America the previous summer and had brought Adam back a baseball cap. It was stuck at the back of a drawer unworn, along with some giant sunglasses Auntie Jo had bought him a few years before. They would have to do.

  His plan was simple. He was going to be like anyone else, heading to a gig on the first day of the holidays. It just so happened that while he was there he was hoping to stop a massacre. He flopped down onto his bed and tried without success to get some sleep.

  A few hours later he was back at the kitchen table, crunching through toast soldiers and a boiled egg. For once he was grateful that Elise was an early riser. His stomach churned as he ate but he had to look normal.

  His father walked in, freshly shaved and looking less tired than usual. He kissed Elise on the cheek and accepted a cup of coffee. ‘Morning! Any plans for today, Adam?’

  ‘Yeah, just going to meet one of my friends at a gig.’ Adam tried hard to look like someone planning a pleasant day out, not a lunatic going to confront a suicide bomber. It was harder than he thought.

  Elise frowned. ‘You should be helping your father.’

  I will be, Adam thought. ‘Yeah, I think I’ve thrown up enough times for one week, thanks.’

  Nathanial gave him a wry smile. ‘Yes, we’ll give that stomach of yours a rest. All better this morning, I take it?’ At Adam’s nod he looked pleased. ‘Good. Well, go and enjoy your day. You’re only young once and it doesn’t last long.’

  Adam gulped and tried to smile. If he messed things up this afternoon his youth would be even shorter-lived than Nathanial imagined.

  An hour later Adam was on a bus. He had trawled through his wardrobe in search of his most bland and unremarkable clothing – jeans and a plain black hoodie. The baseball cap and sunglasses were tucked away in his backpack.

  He was going to be early but that was OK. It would give him time to scope the place out – and figure out where the bomber would be. In an odd way Adam felt almost happy. The awful sick feeling was gone and now that he was on the move he at least felt like he was doing something.

  He left the bus and jumped on the Underground. Speeding and rattling beneath the city, he imagined the bomber’s preparations that morning. Had he sat down for a last breakfast? Was he on a bus or train at this very moment, looking for all the world like any other backpacker?

  The Fates seemed so cruel sometimes. What sort of creatures could allow a woman and her baby to be killed by a madman? How could anyone think it was better to stand aside and let the Fates have their way? Maybe it was better to stand up to them, even if it meant risking execution. After all, they could always kill you on a whim. A short-circuit, a stumble on the stairs, a piano falling from the sky …

  A woman’s voice interrupted his thoughts, announcing the next station and warning him to mind the gap. As the train pulled away, he hesitated, closing his eyes and letting the warm, fumey air wash over him. Once he was above ground … it was game on. He rode the up escalator and bought some drinks and snacks before heading out into the sunlight.

  It was only a short walk to his destination but he didn’t want to get there too soon, conscious of the CCTV cameras. If he failed in his mission every scrap of footage would be pored over by the police. He couldn’t risk any knocks on their family door so for a while he just wandered, past churches, museums, shops and theatres, weaving through tourists and traffic until he could circle back towards his target.

  The square unfolded below him. Adam stood at the north end, in the shadow of the huge gallery rising behind him. Ahead, the two fountains flanked the great column directly south of his position. He hadn’t been here since he was a little kid, trotting obediently behind his primary school teacher.

  It was still early but already the square was filling up with tourists. People were perching on the edges of the fountains, pointing out the statues and making peace signs for cameras. Stalls were selling souvenirs and candied nuts and everyone looked happy. Directly ahead, between the two fountains and the column, men were working to build the temporary stage. The familiar sight made Adam shiver.

  Knowing he had a wait in sto
re, he found a vantage point and sat back, trying to figure out his next move. He had only the loosest idea of a plan. The bomber was facing south in Adam’s vision, coming from Adam’s own vicinity, moving towards the crowd around the stage. Somehow Adam had to stop him getting close to that packed mass of bodies. He had an idea that if he could meet the bomber before he reached the fountains they might give some kind of shelter to his intended victims.

  The details of how he was going to stop the man were still hazy. It would be so much easier if he could just sneak up in the Hinterland, then pounce on the bomber in the physical world. The only downside of this brilliant plan was that he would probably scare the bomber into detonating himself.

  Adam ate his crisps and drank a can of fizzy stuff just to pass the time. The sun was rising ever higher, working its way round behind the column. The light was somehow … familiar. As if to prove his point the men building the stage climbed down, one of them speaking into a walkie-talkie. It was almost show time.

  Adam’s heart was beating faster. He stood up, already regretting the fizzy drink. A sudden wave of panic threatened to engulf him. He could still just go. Just turn and walk away; let the Fates or the bomber have their way. His father and brothers would quickly appear. A couple of the northern Lumen could deal with sudden deaths. Maybe there would even be some French or Irish fast-response Lumen if the body count was high enough. Darian might be with them, snooping around and checking up on Nathanial. Adam would have broken no laws and it would be obvious that no one had been interfering with the Fates’ plans.

  But those scenes, fresh and terrible in his mind … Adam sighed. It was never going to happen. You couldn’t see that smoke or hear those screams and walk away. How could you live with those images in your mind, knowing that you could have stopped them? All right, he was scared of messing things up – but in reality no matter what he did he couldn’t make things any worse! He rifled through his bag and put on his baseball cap and sunglasses.

  Superhero disguise complete, he walked down into the square on numb legs. The people around him drifted past, ghostly and unreal. The world itself seemed to be changing, sounds and people and colours revolving, like a haunted carnival. Somehow the more hyper-alert his senses became, the more the physical world began to resemble the Hinterland.

  There were whoops and catcalls ahead of him. To Adam’s horror the band were walking towards the stage, pushing through their fans, carrying guitar cases. The spiky-haired guy with the piercings was waving and grinning. Adam hurried to the back of the crowd. There was no sign yet of the woman with her baby but he couldn’t have more than a few minutes to find the bomber.

  What was he going to do? He couldn’t just run up to people and tell them there was a bomb. They would either laugh at him, think he was a nutter or jump on him until the police arrived, assuming he was the suspect. All he could do was persuade the bomber to stop.

  Adam turned back to the north end of the square, towards the National Gallery, scouring the crowd, trying to recall his brief glimpse of the bomber. A pale face, intense eyes, a huge rucksack on his back … In other words the bomber looked just like hundreds of other people in the square!

  Think, he commanded himself. Most of the backpackers were in pairs or groups, not walking alone. The few who were on their own were taking their time, strolling around soaking up the atmosphere and snapping photos. They weren’t walking across the square, pale and purposeful, mouths moving silently in pep talk or prayer.

  There was a roar of approval from the stage behind him and Adam’s heart jumped up into his throat. He turned and saw the band on the stage. At the same moment he spotted two people coming from separate directions – the green-haired woman pushing through the crowd with her sign and the woman with the red scarf. The woman was lifting her baby out of a buggy, wrestling with the straps. A man was helping her. Adam hadn’t noticed him before. A family on a day out, about to be wiped out of existence.

  But as he watched them the strangest feeling passed over him. Tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose and a shiver rippled down to the base of his spine. He turned slowly on the spot, knowing before he even looked around that the bomber was approaching. It was impossible to explain his certainty; something more ancient than reason was at work.

  And as he finally turned his back on the crowd the man came into view. He was standing at the far end of the square, looking straight towards Adam. He seemed supernaturally still, totally focused on his target – the crowd who were yelling for the band to start playing. Adam didn’t dare to turn around. He knew the baby would be free of its buggy by now.

  He started to walk, one foot in front of the other, mechanical. As he came closer the bomber began to walk too. It was almost comical. Adam looked around, feeling a sudden hysterical urge to laugh. It was like high noon in a western film, the sheriff confronting the villain, ready to see who was fastest on the draw.

  The distance between them was closing too fast. Adam could see the bomber more clearly now. He was younger than he had expected, with wispy brown hair and a sparse goatee. He was smaller than Adam and thin, almost stumbling beneath the weight of his rucksack. Thinking about what was inside that bag almost brought Adam to a standstill but he forced himself to keep walking.

  The bomber was jumpy. He ignored Adam at first, focused on the mob behind him, but as he got closer his eyes darted from side to side. They were going to meet just north of the fountains, in a zone that was relatively empty of tourists. Adam stared desperately around, searching for ideas. If he scared the bomber the young man would hit the button before Adam even opened his mouth.

  They were five metres apart … four metres apart … The bomber was looking edgy … and finally Adam had a flash of inspiration. He cleared his throat and tried to channel Elise and every other French relative he had. ‘Excusez-moi? Monsieur? Could you possibly take un photo?’

  The bomber stopped. This close Adam could see how young he really was – only a few years older than Adam himself. His eyes were hollow but he paused and stared at Adam as if he was an alien. ‘What?’

  Adam’s throat was dry. He forced himself to smile and kept his best accent going. ‘Please? You can take un photograph for me, oui?’

  The bomber glared at him and started to walk past. ‘Piss off.’

  Without thinking about it Adam seized his arm. ‘I know who you are.’

  There was a frozen second as the bomber deciphered his words and a look of utter panic flashed across his thin face. Adam realised that grabbing him was pretty much the worst thing he could have done – only the bomber’s terror was keeping him paralysed. He dropped the young man’s arm and stepped away, holding his hands up peaceably. ‘Sorry, mate! I’m not going to do anything. It’s just … I know what you’re going to do and … I’ve been sent to tell you … don’t do this!’

  The bomber’s mouth was moving but no words were coming out. Maybe he was wondering if one of his co-conspirators had betrayed him.

  Adam adopted Auntie Jo’s thrilling horoscope voice. ‘I was given a vision! I saw what you planned to do – but it’s not too late!’

  The bomber was staring at him wide-eyed. Finally he blurted out, ‘A vision? How … how did you know? Are you … an angel?’

  Adam almost snorted but managed not to. ‘Yes … well, kind of. I’m a messenger. A messenger who can see the future! And this isn’t the right thing to do!’

  The young man paused, confused. His right arm was tense, hand hidden in his pocket out of sight. ‘God wants me to do it.’

  Adam shook his head, trying not to look at the hand in the pocket. If he thought about it for even a second he would turn and run for his life. ‘NO! God doesn’t want you to do this!’

  The bomber stared at him and a look of utter exhaustion passed across his face. His body sagged a little. ‘God wants me to do it. They told me. You can read about it in the book.’ He was rambling, eyes a little unfocused.

  Adam was beginning to feel desperate. Wh
o was this guy? Who had told him this stuff? ‘Seriously, God doesn’t want you to do anything. God wants you to … go home! Go home and get some sleep!’

  For just a second the bomber looked at him almost hopefully and Adam’s heart soared. Then a flicker of doubt narrowed the young man’s eyes and twisted his mouth into a sneer. ‘I know what you are! You’re a … a devil! A tempter!’ He looked like he was going to cry.

  ‘No! I’m not!’ Adam looked around in despair. A tour group was walking towards them, coming from the National Gallery. They weren’t too close yet but they would be soon. He saw a woman in heels, holding her daughter’s hand, and an elderly man snapping photos. He pulled off his sunglasses. ‘Please,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t do this.’

  The bomber looked at him with a kind of weary triumph and pulled his hand out of his pocket. ‘This is God’s will.’

  And in the last possible second, as the young man pressed a key on his mobile phone, Adam clutched his keystone and stepped forward – just as the bomb roared and detonated.

  Chapter 21

  Adam flew backwards off his feet, feeling the breath punched out of his body, even here in the Hinterland. A hot wind blasted across his face like sandpaper and he kept his eyes closed tight until he felt it subside.

  There was a moment of stunned silence, before the first screams came. He lay for a second, not wanting to open his eyes. I don’t want this life any more. Please. Let me be someone else. Then, as the screams were picked up by others, he felt a great wave of shame. When he stood up there would probably be souls all around him – souls who would give anything to be back in their bodies. He didn’t deserve any pity right now.

  He opened his eyes and risked a glance. He looked left – and recoiled. He was staring at a woman’s leg, a slim calf still wearing a strappy, high-heeled shoe. The woman herself was some distance away, lying on the ground stunned; but her arms were moving. Slowly Adam crawled up onto his feet. In the physical world there were bodies on the ground, some bleeding – but all of them still held their soul safely inside. He hadn’t saved these people from injury but he had – for now – kept them from death. Already he could hear a siren wailing dimly in the distance. In a few minutes there would be people here to help those injured.