Mortal Ghost

by Lowe, L. Lee

  ‘Because I saw him. Finn, I saw him in the room with the prototype just before the alarms went off. I was too shocked to react at first. And then everything went crazy. I ran to check the displays, and by the time I looked round, he was gone. Probably. At least I didn’t see him again.’

  ‘Are you sure? Absolutely sure? Maybe you—’

  ‘I did not imagine it. Don’t even suggest it,’ Ayen interrupted. ‘We’ve started something with that boy. You know it as well as I do. And now it’s—he’s—got out of control. And nobody will believe a word of it, will they?’

  Finn closed his eyes for a moment. If Jesse had really been there . . . If he’d been caught in the explosion . . .

  ‘Finn? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes.’ He cleared his throat. He mustn’t show her how seriously he took her account—how much it mattered. ‘Is there any chance Jesse didn’t escape?’

  ‘How the hell should I know?’ It was the first time he’d ever heard even a mild oath pass her lips. ‘I almost wish he hadn’t.’

  ‘Ayen! Get hold of yourself. How can you say such a thing? He’s just a boy, a young homeless kid.’

  ‘He’s no boy. Not any longer.’

  Finn had no answer for her. Then he realised what she was in truth afraid of.

  ‘You reckon he did it, don’t you? Started the fire—or explosion or whatever it was?’

  ‘There’s no other possible explanation.’

  ‘Nonsense. Even if Jesse could’ve managed anything remotely like this sort of incident’—he was glad she couldn’t see his face, he’d nearly said friendly fire, how he hated their bloody doublespeak, if anything had happened to Jesse he’d make sure Ayen saw some real friendly fire—‘there must be any number of parties who would be keen to disrupt the project. And you’re going to face some pretty rigorous investigation about risks, safety measures. I hope there’s nothing you’ve been keeping under wraps.’ Finn smiled, cold as he felt. They always had something they were hiding. ‘What about the prototype?’

  ‘Gone with all the rest. And that’s the one thing I’m almost certain we can’t rebuild, not easily, maybe not at all . . . at least not now. There was an element of luck, of chance about the whole thing.’

  Good.

  ‘Before you start making any wild accusations about a kid, you’d better be prepared to answer a few perfectly reasonable questions, like why? why would Jesse want to destroy the computer?’ Finn knew the answer, or at least part of it, but he certainly wouldn’t help her out. ‘And even more interesting, how? They’re going to be asking, and soon. Crackpot theories about aliens or teenagers with superpowers don’t go over awfully well with government investigation committees. Especially coming from someone who might be delusional.’

  ‘Delusional? Finn, you can’t be serious! I tell you, he was there!’

  ‘Did anyone else see him?’

  ‘No.’

  Even better.

  ‘What about your security cameras?’

  ‘At those temperatures?’

  ‘You can’t mean to tell me you didn’t have the data stored in a backup unit elsewhere?’

  ‘Extra security risk. We did our own backups right here on auxiliary storage devices. We didn’t anticipate the remotest necessity . . .’

  Even better still.

  ‘Not good, Ayen. There are going to be some very uncomfortable questions about your procedures.’

  ‘Damn these bureaucrats. I’m not an office drone, for god’s sake. Finn, you know I’m not imagining this about Jesse. You saw for yourself what he did with the knife.’

  ‘Look, I’m just warning you to be prepared. It’s not me you’re going to have to convince. Something like an electrical fault would be a lot easier to swallow. And you know how they are about funding long shots.’

  She was quiet for a moment. Finn knew that she was very ambitious. He tried to remember which women scientists since Marie Curie had won the Nobel Prize. There had been some, definitely, in medicine.

  ‘Finn, if he’s alive we’ve got to find him. Question him. And stop him somehow. We have no idea what he’s capable of.’

  ‘He hasn’t come back since yesterday evening. We’ve been worried sick about him.’ That, at least, was not far from what he was feeling. ‘There’s no reason for him not to come back unless . . .’ His voice trailed off. ‘Unless he was killed.’ His stomach twisted; he didn’t like using the word. It’s not that he was superstitious, not precisely . . .

  ‘Somebody should go through his stuff. Maybe we can find a clue to his whereabouts.’

  ‘Ayen, he has no stuff, except the few bits of clothing we’ve bought him. He was homeless, don’t you remember? I’ll have someone from my department go over his room, but I fear it won’t help you.’

  ‘Have you uncovered anything at all about his background?’

  ‘Ayen, forget about Jesse. You’ve got bigger problems to worry about right now. Anyway, what can he do without your prototype? The computer was the key, wasn’t it?’

  ‘He got through the highest security we’ve been able to devise, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Before the prototype was destroyed. Maybe. You seem to think so. But don’t ever assume anything, that’s what this business has taught me. You only saw him for couple of seconds, at most. If you saw him. Maybe the computer was behind it, projecting an illusion at you—some kind of holographic image. It seemed to have some very interesting capabilities of its own.’

  ‘Yes . . . I suppose.’ Her voice was doubtful, but some of the tension had left it. She wanted to believe that she hadn’t unleashed a monster on the world, or at least on the remnants of her career. Finn just wanted to believe that Jesse was still alive. The rest could wait—together with Jesse he’d find a way to deal with it.

  ‘Look, Ayen, if he shows up here—and where else does he have to go?—I’ll make sure he stays put. But I expect you’ll find that, even if he’s alive, without the computer he’s nothing more than a bright kid, a bit more sensitive than most.’

  ‘A bit, you call it?’

  ‘That doesn’t make him Superman. Don’t forget that he’s been staying with us for a while now. My wife’s a psychiatrist. We would have noticed if something were amiss. He’s no mass murderer, that I can promise you, no psychotic. A perfectly normal teenager with a few paranormal gifts. And aren’t they supposed to fade after puberty?’

  ‘There’s no real evidence for that.’ But Ayen’s voice had lightened.

  They exchanged another sentence or two before Ayen rang off. Finn dropped the phone with an unsteady hand. He’d put her off for now, but Ayen was too smart—and too thorough—to forget about Jesse entirely. Finn hoped he’d given her enough to worry about. If he’d only known what he was getting into when he’d first mentioned Jesse to her . . . He leaned his head on his hands and shut his eyes, trying to think. But all he could see was a scene from one of those disaster movies he’d watched on a recent flight, where a tidal wave of flame raced along a tunnel, consuming everything in its path. He shivered. It was cold in his office. He needed a cup of hot coffee, with plenty of sugar. He didn’t dare take a drink, much as he’d like one.

  ~~~

  ‘Tell me,’ Sarah said.

  Finn looked up from his coffee.

  ‘Tell me,’ she repeated, her voice rising sharply.

  Finn spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. He couldn’t do it. He glanced at Meg for help.

  ‘What’s happened, Finn?’ she asked calmly enough. ‘A fire, you said.’

  The kitchen door swung open and Jesse walked in.

  Finn half rose from his chair. ‘Where the fuck have you been?’ he bellowed.

  Jesse took a step backwards. Finn’s face was rigid with anger—the kind of anger painted in lurid colours on a grotesque stage mask. And then Jesse saw it: something else flickered behind the eyeholes. Oh god, not that—not Finn.

  Nubi barked.

  They all jumped at the unexpected sound and tur
ned towards the doorway. Nubi rushed at Jesse, prancing and springing up and making little yipping cries of joy. Jesse couldn’t help smiling, albeit unsteadily. Nubi was practically wriggling out of his coat from excitement. There was no welcome like a dog’s.

  ‘Down, Nubi,’ Jesse said, but fondled the dog’s head and scratched him behind the ears. It was easier than looking at Finn, and far easier than at Sarah.

  ‘Where have you been all night?’ Finn asked again, but in a quieter tone of voice.

  ‘I’m sorry, I should have rung,’ Jesse said.

  ‘Damn right.’

  Jesse raised his head and met Finn’s eyes, now clear, a touch astringent, but simple and uncomplicated. Glad.

  ‘I had some things to take care of,’ Jesse said.

  ‘In the middle of the night?’ Finn asked.

  Meg intervened. ‘Go and wash up, Jesse. You look tired, and I daresay you’re hungry. There’ll be plenty of time to talk after you’ve got some coffee and toast inside you.’

  Jesse nodded gratefully. At last his eyes slid towards Sarah, who was gripping the back of a kitchen chair, head lowered, face hidden by her morning hair. For a moment it seemed as if he’d speak, then his shoulders drooped and he left the kitchen.

  ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Finn said. ‘Go after him. You don’t need your father to tell you that, do you?’

  Jesse was leaning his head against the cool glass of the mirror when Sarah knocked on the open door to his bathroom. He looked up, then without a word gathered her into his arms.

  ‘Sorry,’ they both said at the same time, almost as if they’d bumped heads. They laughed softly, relieved to have the moment over, then clung together, breathing in each other’s scent, tasting it through their pores: the lavender that Jesse had come to love, a certain sleepy musk, even the smell of coffee on her breath; the sharp male tang of soap and sweat and something else that Sarah would never be able to define but was unmistakably Jesse, something woodsy and smoky and honest.

  ‘I never want to own you in any way,’ Jesse said.

  ‘I know,’ said Sarah. ‘I don’t know what got into me. I said such awful things. Such stupid things.’

  ‘As long as you’re honest with me, you can say whatever you want. Whatever needs to be said.’

  What’s he doing with me? Sarah thought, pushing her hair off her face. I’ll never be able to live up to his expectations. To keep up with him. Just wait till he realises I’m like ten thousand other girls. Till he gets bored.

  As if reading her thoughts, Jesse put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her forward till her head rested against his collarbone. He ran his hands through her hair, again and again, only stopping when she drew back to speak.

  ‘Jesse, I’m nothing like you. I’m not especially clever or brave or good or anything. Don’t look for any miracles from me.’

  ‘Miracles?’ His mouth twisted. ‘I don’t want any miracles. Just—’ He faltered. ‘Just ordinary,’ he finished lamely, his eyes downcast. Why did it have to be so hard? Why did most people get to marry and have kids, a job, maybe a bit of money in the bank; and others were born disabled or ill or just plain unlucky—the big C before they were ten, parents who abused or abandoned them, an accident. Miracles? He’d give anything for normal, just fucking normal. But you didn’t get to choose, did you? Or

  did you? You might be born with perfect pitch, but that didn’t mean you had to become a cellist. Or even sing in the school choir. No one forced you to use your gifts.

  Jesse looked down at his hands, resting on Sarah’s shoulders. He couldn’t change the past, no one could, but maybe it wasn’t too late for a little sanity in his life. No more fires. No more deaths. And definitely no more Ayens. A future . . . He lifted his head and grinned his lopsided grin.

  ‘You’re a very special sort of ordinary,’ he said.

  She snorted. ‘I’m not, though. You just don’t know me well enough.’

  ‘Then don’t tell me. I think I prefer my illusions.’

  She kissed the tuck at the corner of his mouth, the one that always reminded her of brownies, then held his eyes without blinking. ‘I never thought it would be like this.’ He wasn’t one of the lads at school. If anyone could bear the truth, it was Jesse. ‘Loving someone. You.’ There. It was said.

  The room was silent as they both struggled to find a way forward to the place where they might dance.

  ‘Yes,’ he finally said.

  Sarah remembered her mum’s words: give him time. With a small sigh she propelled Jesse gently towards the basin.

  ‘Go on, brush your teeth,’ she said. ‘I’m so famished I could even eat a few rashers of bacon.’

  ~~~

  Finn knocked at the door just as Jesse was thrusting his arms into a fresh T-shirt.

  ‘Come in,’ Jesse called.

  Finn came into the room, pulled out the desk chair, and straddled the seat so that his arms rested on the back. Jesse sat on the bed. There was no avoiding this confrontation. All right then.

  ‘Are you worried about the new school?’ Finn asked.

  ‘Get to the point,’ Jesse said. Then he looked down, ashamed of the sharpness in his voice. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, don’t treat me like a teacher or social worker. Some rudeness is healthy, you know. Better than cold showers, even. Clears out the, uh, sinuses.’

  They grinned at each other, and Jesse yawned, hugely.

  ‘Where were you last night?’ Finn asked.

  ‘I guess you already know.’

  ‘I was afraid of that.’

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘Was I what?’ Finn asked.

  Jesse looked at him, then away. ‘Afraid? Afraid of me?’ The back of his throat suddenly felt scratchy, like a cold coming on.

  Finn didn’t answer at first. Then he sighed and began to stroke his beard. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘A bit.’

  Jesse closed his eyes.

  Finn came over and sat down on the bed, put his arm around Jesse’s shoulders. After a while some of the stiffness eked out of Jesse’s body, and he leaned into Finn’s bulk with the same feeling of warm dreamy lethargy that came after a long hard swim, after making love.

  ‘Will you tell them?’ Jesse asked.

  ‘Do you actually believe I’d hand you over to some narrow-minded fools who’d just as soon dissect you as not? Do you think so little of me? Do you trust me so little?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Damn it, Jesse, there are no buts. Not now, not with you.’

  ‘Because of Sarah?’

  ‘Sarah’s part of it, yes. But there’s you. Can’t you get it through that weird wired skull of yours that we care about you, all of us.’ He took Jesse by the shoulders and forced him to meet his eyes. ‘We love you.’

  Maybe ordinary was a kind of miracle too.

  ~~~

  ‘How the hell did you do it?’ Finn asked.

  Jesse took his time before answering. ‘I made sure all of them could get out of the building. No one was injured.’

  ‘Ayen said. Thank god for that.’

  ‘She saw me, I reckon.’

  ‘Yeah, but she was the only one. There’s a good chance that nobody else will ask about you. I’ve planted a couple of seeds in Ayen’s mind. She’s a very smart, very slick woman. I doubt that she’s going to do anything to jeopardise her standing with the right agencies. Nor her professional reputation. Scientists are a pretty conservative lot, for the most part.’

  ‘A cover-up, you mean?’

  ‘Think of it rather as a retouching job. Or sleight-of-hand, like producing a rabbit from a hat.’

  Jesse picked up Peter’s top, frowning slightly. He turned it over and over in his hand.

  ‘What is it?’ Finn asked.

  The little toy felt warm, as if it had been lying in a patch of sunlight. It was vibrating faintly—a low hum, like the sound a small electronic device might make, or the quivering of a frightened animal
—those baby rabbits he’d once found in the orchard, some dead already, others trembling in his hand, his father had run over them in the high grass with the mower, they’d tried to see if any others were left inside the hole. Not much difference between alive and dead, a moment’s inattention, mere particles atoms molecules whirring and spinning through an illusion of substance. If you just reached in and—

  ‘Jesse?’

  —so much empty space, seconds and seconds of space to cross—

  ‘Jesse!’

  Jesse jerked back from the rabbit hole. He stared at Finn, but his eyes were still focused on the supersymmetry of that beautiful infinite tunnel.

  ‘Your eyes—’ Finn said. The brilliant blue of a cyanotype print overlaid with silver—thick, distant silver.

  ‘Sorry. What did you ask?’

  Jesse tilted his head, and the reflection—if that’s what it had been—was gone.

  ‘I asked how you destroyed an entire top-secret underground complex with nothing more than a couple of coins and some cigarettes in your pocket?’

  ‘I—’ Jesse began. He stopped and looked sheepish. ‘I have no idea. Not really.’

  ‘Did you walk there?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Could you be a touch more specific?’ Finn asked drily.

  ‘It wasn’t too hard to get a lift most of the way.’

  ‘The site isn’t on any map. You must have an exceptional sense of direction.’

  A hint of a smile. ‘Sort of.’

  ‘I see. Another sort of.’ Finn glanced sidelong at the photograph he’d recently hung above Jesse’s desk, a platinum print of a bat suspended from a tree branch in summer. There was an ethereal quality to the moonlight, as though the scene had been frosted with ice.

  Jesse noticed the direction of Finn’s gaze. ‘I don’t suppose a bat has any idea how it navigates either, but it does.’

  ‘Perhaps in time you’ll come to understand it better,’ Finn said.

  ‘Yeah.’ This time Jesse gave a short, harsh laugh. ‘Maybe.’

  The room was quiet till Finn shook his head. ‘And maybe it doesn’t matter all that much.’

  ‘Like those who are blind preferring their blindness?’ Jesse asked with heavy sarcasm.

  ‘You’re not suggesting that if bats understood how their radar worked, it would help them to fly better? To live better?’