The Ghosts of London

by Amy Cross

  "Who's Alexander?" Katie asks suddenly.

  "Someone I know," I reply, turning to her.

  "Someone you were screwing?" she asks. "Someone you were paid to screw?"

  "It's complicated."

  "What's wrong?" she continues. "Are you embarrassed?"

  "I just don't think this is the right time," I tell her. "You're angry."

  She smiles as she turns to look out the window, but it's clear that she's not got a very high opinion of me. I guess it's part of her attempt to distance herself from me and lessen the pain of the situation, but I can't help wishing that she'd let me in and at least talk to me. I can already feel a kind if heavy pain in my stomach, and I think there might be more mud in there. I hope I'm wrong, but there's a part of me that thinks I might not be around for much longer.

  "The river's on fire," Katie says suddenly.

  Looking out through her window, I see what she means. As the car reaches the embankment, it's clear that there's a strange kind of orange glow coming from several parts of the dry riverbed. Robinson doesn't slow down at all, instead taking a right and speeding toward the dam, but the rest of us lean over to stare at the glow, which appears to stretch all the way to the horizon.

  "That's not a fire," Quix says after a moment. "Look closer."

  It takes a few seconds, but I finally realize what she means. Squinting a little, I notice what appear to be thousands of figures down on the riverbed, each of them standing still and giving off a hazy orange glow. It's a shocking sight, even more so when I realize that the figures are all staring straight toward the distant dam, as if they're expecting something to happen.

  "They give me the creeps," Katie says after a moment.

  "They shouldn't be out there," Robinson mutters. "This doesn't fit with my theory."

  "Maybe you need to revise your theory," Quix points out.

  "I want to drop Katie off somewhere safe," I say, turning to them. "I need to come with you because of Alexander, but Katie doesn't need to be with us. Can you find somewhere to let her out?"

  "No way!" Katie says firmly.

  "It's too dangerous," I tell her. "I know you're mad at me, but that doesn't mean you need to make some stupid point!"

  "I'm not mad at you!" she shouts. "I'm dead! How much more fucking dangerous can this get? What's gonna happen? Is someone gonna fucking kill me again?"

  "When you swear like that," I reply, "it makes you sound younger, not older."

  "Go fuck yourself," she continues. "You don't have any right to start telling me what I can and can't do. If you were gonna be all protective, you kinda missed your chance back when I actually needed help!" She stares at me for a moment, clearly keen to hurt me. "Forgive me if I don't take your advice," she adds, "but your way of doing things doesn't seem to have worked out too well, does it?"

  I look at her for a moment, shocked by the venom in her voice, and finally I realize that there's nothing I can say to her.

  "There's no time to drop anyone off," Robinson says as the car races toward the dam. "Besides, I might be able to use an extra pair of hands."

  "See?" Katie says with a smile, clearly enjoying the fact that I've been overruled. "I'm not a little kid anymore, Rachel, so you need to stop treating me like one."

  "You need to stop acting like one," I tell her.

  "We're dead," she points out. "No-one can do anything to us now."

  "Don't tempt fate," Robinson replies as the car screeches to a halt at the entrance to the dam's gantry approach. "By all means come with us, but don't downplay the risks."

  As he gets out of the car, I turn to Katie and see pure hatred in her eyes. She quickly opens the door on her side and climbs out, and when I join her at the entrance to the gantry I'm momentarily stunned by the sight of so many ghosts glowing on the dry riverbed. There must be thousands, lighting up the empty river for as far as the eye can see in both directions, with their hollow eyes staring straight up at the dam. There's something almost religious about them, as if they've come to witness a great spectacle.

  They want something. I can feel them yearning for some kind of release, and they clearly think that somehow the dam is going to deliver. After years, perhaps even centuries rotting under the water, it's almost as if they're ready to take over the entire city, and -

  Suddenly I'm gripped by a sharp pain in my belly. Glancing toward the dam, I see that Katie and the others are already making their way to the control room, so I turn and lean against the railing for a moment before dropping to my knees and throwing up. Once again, however, it's mud that spews from my mouth, and finally I'm left kneeling over with an agonizing pain in my torso.

  "Help," I whisper, even though I know that no-one can hear me. "Please, I need to look after Katie. Just let me do that, just -"

  Before I can finish, I vomit more mud, and this time there's so much that I start to wonder if it's ever going to stop. Once it's over, I try to get to my feet, but I'm starting to feel strangely weak and after a few mis-steps I drop back down onto all fours again, filled with the sensation that more mud is about to come up from my stomach. No matter how hard I try to fight it, the pain is rippling throughout my body and threatening to tear me apart, and finally I slump down onto my side and everything goes black.

  Part Eight

  The Flood

  Chapter One

  Katie

  "They're just staring," I say, standing on the gantry and looking down at the thousands of ghosts as they stand on the dry riverbed. "What are they waiting for?"

  "I wish I knew," Quix replies as she comes over to join me. "Fortunately, it looks like most people can't see them. Because we're dead, our perspective is a little... enhanced. Still, we can't rely on that being the case permanently. The ghosts clearly think something's going to happen, and I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out that they're after a spot of revenge."

  "Revenge?" I ask, turning to her. "For what?"

  "For their deaths," she continues. "All these ghosts are souls whose bodies were dumped in the river. Thousands of people must have been disposed of that way over the years. After all, tie a weight around a corpse's neck and drop it off a bridge, and you'd have to be very unlucky to see it again. There are plenty of creatures down there that'd enjoy the feast. The Thames has always been a place where secrets can be drowned. It's one of the things that has made London so unique."

  "So they're angry that their deaths were ignored?" I reply.

  "It's the theory we're working on at the moment," she says darkly. "There have always been ghosts in London, but over the past six months or so, they've become more noticeable and more agitated. We've been tracking the up-tick for a while, and now it looks like they were anticipating the problems with the dam. Hell, they might even have caused the problems. That's what Robinson thinks, but..."

  I wait for her to answer, but she seems to be lost in thought for a moment.

  "But what?" I ask eventually. "You don't agree with him?"

  "Look at them," she continues. "With the best will in the world, some of these ghosts are more than a thousand years old. Are we supposed to believe that they finally got themselves organized? It's absurd..." She pauses. "Someone's pulling some strings behind the scenes, lining everything up, even the dam..." She turns to look back across the gantry. "Whoever's behind all of this, they orchestrated everything from the beginning, even the construction of the dam. None of this was a coincidence, and now the pieces are starting to come together. I don't like it when I don't know the whole picture."

  "What's Robinson doing?" I ask, watching as he sits on the steps that lead up to the control room.

  "Meditating," Quix replies.

  "Meditating?"

  "It helps him think," she continues, "and believe me, right now we need Robinson to be at his best. He's going to work this out, but it'll take time, and that's the one thing I'm not sure we have on our side." A little further along the dam, there's a loud banging sound, as if some deep part of the structure i
s struggling to function properly; the banging is followed by a faint vibration that runs all the way along the gantry, and it's clear that some part of the structure is suffering another breakdown.

  "Who would do all of this?" I ask. "Who could do all of this?"

  "That's what I'd like to know," she mutters.

  "But how can you stop them if you don't know who they are?"

  "The engineers are trying everything they can think of to get it working again," she adds, "but it's hopeless. They can't fix a problem that was created by ghosts, not when they can't even see the ghosts." The sound continues for a few more seconds, causing the entire gantry to vibrate, before finally the machinery is switched off again. "Pathetic, really," Quix says, turning to me. "The best laid plans of men, huh?"

  "So what are we supposed to do?" I ask. "Just stand around and wait for something to happen?"

  "Robinson'll come up with a plan soon," she replies, "and if he doesn't, I've got a few ideas. I trust Robinson, but if he can't figure this out, there's a back-up solution that I think we might have to consider."

  "What is it?" I ask.

  "Let's just hope things don't get that bad," she says firmly. "Robinson and I have been in tighter spots than this in the past, and things usually work out okay in the end. Not always, but at least nine times out of ten. Robinson's plans tend to be smarter and more elaborate, whereas mine..." She pauses for a moment. "Well, I tend to prefer blowing things up."

  "You want to blow up the dam?"

  She pauses. "At least the dam."

  "But -"

  "There's nothing you can do right now," she adds. "Maybe you should go and find your sister."

  I shake my head.

  "Don't miss the chance to -"

  "I don't want to talk to her," I reply before she can finish whatever sanctimonious garbage she was about to come out with. "She's my sister, and she promised to help me, but she just abandoned me! I don't blame her, but I can't forgive her, either!"

  "You sound as if you blame her," she points out.

  "It's her fault that I'm dead!"

  "It's really not," she replies.

  "I trust her," I continue. "She ran away from home and left me behind to stay with our parents, and then when I finally managed to get away, she was supposed to at least be around to help me. Instead, she didn't bother to give me her new address, she didn't answer my emails, and..." I pause for a moment as the weight of the situation finally hits me. "I'm dead," I add. "I mean, I'm actually, properly dead. What's going to happen to me? Will I just fade away eventually, or am I going to lose my mind? What about all the things I was going to do with my life? They've all been taken away!"

  "I know the feeling," she says sadly.

  "How did you die?" I ask.

  "It doesn't matter."

  "Did someone kill you? How long ago was it?"

  "Did anyone ever tell you that you're kinda nosy?" she asks.

  "Sorry."

  "I'll tell you another time," she replies, with a hint of relief in her voice. "Trust me, though... You need to go and talk to your sister. I think she went into one of the offices. Take the advice of someone who's been in your situation, and don't let temporary pain or anger cloud your judgment. You can't assume that you'll always have a chance to put things right."

  "I'm more useful out here," I say firmly. "You might need me."

  "Unless you know how to make a few thousand ghosts disappear, I'm not sure what you can do," she replies, turning to look back down at the ghosts as they continue to stare at the dam. "Can't you feel it in the air, Katie? They're waiting for something, and they think it's coming real soon. The worst part is, they might be right." She pauses. "If Robinson doesn't come up with a plan soon, I guess it's my turn. Shame, though. I'll miss London when it's nothing more than a pile of rubble."

  Chapter Two

  Rachel

  "I don't need you right now," Alexander says as he stands by the terminal, examining a set of print-outs. "Go back to my penthouse and wait for me."

  I don't reply immediately. After all, I didn't come here to offer my services; I came to settle a few old scores. Alexander is clearly focusing on the dam, desperately trying to save the millions, maybe even billions, of pounds he's invested in the project, and he doesn't have time for me. As he grabs a tablet device and starts flipping through page after page of schematic drawings, he seems to be barely even aware that I'm in the room.

  "Rachel," he says suddenly, glancing at me. "Not now. Please. Go to my penthouse and wait for me. I can't handle any distractions. I've got men working twenty-four-seven to find the cause of the problem." He checks some more drawings. "It's immensely irritating to have you still standing there," he continues eventually. "I don't need a massage right now, so there's no point in you being here."

  "Why did you build this place?" I ask, stepping closer.

  "This isn't the time for stupid questions," he mutters.

  I make my way over to the door at the far end of the office. Looking out at the balcony, I spot more ghosts down below, looking up at the dam as if they expect something to happen at any moment. It's a stunning, awe-inspiring scene that fills me with dread.

  "I never understood why this thing was built," I say after a moment, still staring out at the dry riverbed. "It doesn't make sense. There's no need for a dam like this on the Thames, not at this spot, and I doubt there's much money in it. I know you talked about glory and political influence, but still, even if the dam actually worked, you wouldn't gain much from it. There are easier ways to buy your way into power."

  "You don't understand," he says darkly.

  I turn to him and see that he's still checking the schematics. As he does so, the small crucifix around his neck glints as it reflects light from a nearby monitor.

  "You're not a man who invests huge sums of money without good reason," I continue. "All your previous projects have been about financial gain, pure and simple, but the dam stands out like a sore thumb. This whole thing makes absolutely no sense unless -"

  "Can't you just shut the fuck up?" he shouts, his anger erupting with such fury that he throws the tablet at me, causing its screen to shatter as it slams into the wall. "Did you really come down here just to ask a series of inane questions?" he continues. "I didn't hire you for your mind, Rachel, I hired you for your hands and your body, so why don't you just go back to the penthouse and wait for me? I might actually need you when I get home!"

  "You didn't kill me," I reply.

  He stares at me.

  "That first time," I continue, "when you thought you killed me... I was already dead. I'm surprised you didn't realize, but then again I guess you've never been very observant, have you? Hell, I bet you haven't even looked outside."

  "Why would I look outside?" he asks, with barely-concealed contempt in his voice.

  "There's only one way to find out," I reply, turning and opening the door before stepping out onto the balcony. About fifty meters below, the ghosts are staring up at us from the empty riverbed. I admire their patience, but as Alexander joins me on the balcony, I can't help but feel that something terrible is about to happen.

  "What am I supposed to be looking at?" Alexander asks.

  "You don't see them?"

  "All I see is a dry riverbed," he continues. "Is that why you wanted me to come out here? To lay a guilt trip on me?"

  "I guess you have to be dead to see them," I mutter.

  "I've had enough of this," he replies. "Perhaps our arrangement should be terminated, Rachel. After all, if you can't follow even the simplest of instructions, I fail to see that you're much use to me." From inside the office, there's the sound of a radio crackling to life, and Alexander turns to go and answer.

  "Wait," I say, grabbing his arm.

  "I don't have time for this," he says firmly. "Let go of me immediately!"

  "Don't you want to see them?" I ask. "They're all down there, watching and waiting... If you built this thing, you must be like a god to
them." Again, the crucifix around his neck catches the light, and I start to realize that maybe I've misunderstood Alexander's intentions all along. "Is that what you want?" I continue. "To be a god?"

  "I've met some idiots over the years," he replies, as the radio continues to crackle in the office, "but you're by far the most stupid. You really don't understand a thing about me or about this project, do you? As far as you're concerned, hell, as far as everyone in this city is concerned, the dam is just a project to manage the water levels of the Thames. None of you can see past the everyday banalities of this thing and understand its true glory."

  "Why did you build it?" I ask, determined to get to the truth.

  "Because I was told to build it," he replies, "and because I have faith in that message."

  "Told by who?"

  "A messenger was sent to me," he continues, "to tell me that I'd been chosen to bring this great construction to life. God wanted this dam to be built, and I knew immediately that my place was not to question his desire, but merely to use my resources to ensure that the project was completed."

  "Are you serious?" I ask. "You think that God sent a messenger down to Earth to tell you to build a great big dam in the middle of London? You really believe that, and yet you never even thought to ask why God would want that?"

  "I have faith," he says firmly. "If I can act as an instrument of God, I'm among the luckiest of men. God chose me for this task because he knew that I was the most worthy."

  "Sure," I reply. "God chose you, Alexander Medion... A man who made his fortune by crushing other companies and profiting from the misery of people all over the world. A man who visits brothels and takes a woman back to his place, kills her during rough sex, and then keeps on killing her over and over again when he discovers that she comes back to life every time. That's the kind of man that God, if he even existed, would use?"