Dead Cell

by Chris Johnson

  Ten round magazine. It's got a folding butt on it, lets it fire at a target 800 metres away, even more than that. I can shoot the balls off a flea at 900 metres with this baby.

  Kroot's voice broke through her trip down memory lane, a path that took her past a sore part of the past; Cogan blinked, turning to face him.

  "What?"

  "I said I didn't know you were in the Army. How long ago?"

  Cogan shrugged. "A lifetime ago, in the past, where it belongs."

  RAMSEY STEPPED FROM his bedroom, dressed in his immaculate black suit with royal blue shirt from Roger David, and readjusted his purple tie. It was Friday, the day when he attended a venue for high tea with the Lady Mayoress' Club. They often asked him to attend as a speaker, and to deliver his psychic readings for them. Although he never charged for that particular event, he found them useful for networking purposes and obtaining other paid jobs. The Lady Mayoress' Club met monthly and, although he felt a higher priority to the case, he had to attend this just the same; he enjoyed it anyway.

  Walking down the hallway towards the kitchen, he noticed Tyrone's bedroom door was opened. Turning his gaze, he noticed the teenager laying on his bed, reading a textbook. Tyrone, although still away from school on bereavement, had buried himself in school work in the wake of his sister's death. It was only the second day since the funeral, and their last contact with Debra's spirit, but nothing had changed much for the boy who still missed his sister.

  Ramsey checked his watch, still plenty of time, and knocked on Tyrone's door; the boy lifted his eyes and looked at his guardian.

  "Hitting the books a bit hard?" Ramsey asked, casually, indicating the physics book in Tyrone's hand.

  Tyrone's eyes appeared puffy with a tinge of pink in the whites. "I'm fine, Uncle Craig," he answered, just a bit impatiently, before looking back at the text.

  Ramsey took a breath, stepped inside the room, approaching but keeping his distance so he wouldn't crowd the boy. "It's new for me too."

  Tyrone shrugged, pretending to read but obviously not taking anything in. Ramsey took the hint; Tyrone didn't want to talk about it, at least not right now.

  "I'm getting a bite to eat before heading off to my booking," Ramsey started, taking a quarter turn towards the door. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

  Tyrone shrugged. "No, thanks. I'll be out there later." He sounded a little brighter, maybe a little forced, but he was trying to be brave at least.

  "Brilliant!" Ramsey mouthed, preparing for a fist-pump with the teenager but it didn't happen. Pausing for an uneasy beat, Ramsey turned and walked out the door. "I'm boiling some water if you want a drink," he said, walking out the door. "We can talk tonight."

  Tyrone listened to his guardian's footsteps and, when the sound of a kettle being filled with water told him Ramsey was in the kitchen, he let his breath out in a sigh. Looking behind the bedroom door, he saw the apparition watching him. The dark shape moved towards him, stopping three feet away. The teenager looked it in the "eye".

  "I know what you're saying but how do I know it will work?" he asked.

  "Your uncle Craig Ramsey," the voice responded, with a sarcastic tone on 'uncle', "he may mean well but he doesn't have half of what it takes to get this job done, if you want to avenge your sister."

  Tyrone looked at the PC tablet he had hidden inside the physics textbook, indicating its screen. "Maybe, but this?"

  "It's the only way, my friend," the dark shape responded. "What do you say?"

  Tyrone curled his bottom lip, letting it scrape against his chin for a few moments, before answering. "Let me think on it. I don't want to hurt uncle Craig."

  "It won't matter in the end," the voice responded sharply. "You will avenge Debra, I will help you, and you will be able to see her whenever you want."

  DETECTIVE COGAN NEEDED time to think, just for a moment, when she returned from Dr Kroot's.

  Did she know what an SR-98 was? Yes, she did, and she had seen what they could do to someone in the hands of an expert sniper, which is why the Australian Army used them. The corpse she saw on the table in Dr Kroot's examination room served as a visual reminder of that.

  Times had not changed much through history. In the old days of the Five Hundred War, the English longbow archers suffered torture at the hands of the French because of how deadly their long range weapons could be on the battlefield, decimating troops before they could even get close. They outranked the French crossbows, firing up to ten arrows in the time it took to load one crossbow bolt, which also had less power and range. Modern snipers were the equivalent, being able to pick off enemies quickly from an even further distance, and they suffered just as badly when caught by the enemy. A memory flooded through her head; flashes of pain, foreign voices, another voice, this one with a face, much friendlier, running through the desert, and hiding; she brushed it away, feeling the hot sting in her eye. It is best kept in the past.

  SR-98's, while available on the internet to those who know how to find them, were not that commonly used. The shooter possessed a military background, and Cogan knew of an Army base just outside Statton.

  Cogan wiped her eyes, took a settling breath, and picked up her 'phone.

  HIS HANDS MOVED METHODICALLY in the darkened room, knowing their way around the weapon he held. His dexterous fingers manipulated each piece, undoing it, oiling, cleaning and reassembling. The television set provided the only illumination in the blackened room. The sound was turned right down; he didn't need to hear it; the picture provided all the words he needed to know.

  Sally Green's image appeared on the screen, presenting a news story that looked like it was at a motorway. Definitely some carnage there.

  He paused, the reassembled rifle felt just right in his hands, and he lifted the weapon to aim it at the television. He lowered the weapon again to watch the journalist, watched her lips as she spoke and then aimed again. There was a time, quarter of a century ago, he would have liked kissing those lips. Times change as one grows older and the "older woman crush" ages as well, but Sally still looked good.

  His thoughts quickly moved to the news story itself. More crashes and deaths on the roads? Whenever there's a traffic jam, you could be assured that at least one dumb-arse prick has caused it. When there's an accident, it still only took one of them. Temporary Australians, he called them. The problem with Temporary Australians is they tend to take the innocent with them as well.

  He pulled the trigger; no bang, just a dry click like a fool's death rattle.

  That had to stop.

  That's why he had to kill some more fools today.

  Chapter 12

  The women surrounded Ramsey as he delivered his reading to Mrs Taylor, the deputy mayor's wife, who hung on his every word; they did too, listening for anything they might recognise or pick up to gossip about in their circles later. Ramsey, however, was always careful whilst reading aloud for them because he knew why they liked his readings. No matter what he saw, he delivered it as positively as he could so his client felt empowered. He understood the drama and the intrigue, how to deliver the story to them, and he also knew that the future can be changed through human will.

  He held Mrs Taylor's right hand in his, his face-up palm holding her face-down palm, while his other hand hovered above hers. Ramsey didn't need to use the other hand, his psychometric ability relied on touch, but it created good theatre just the same. They all loved it.

  "I see a beautiful garden," he intoned, gazing off into nothingness as he described his visions. "It looks resplendent and vibrant. Your husband is not the green finger, you are."

  Mrs Taylor swallowed, her pupils large as she nodded.

  Ramsey continued, "I don't know all the flowers, but some names are coming to me as I can see carnations, some pink pansies - they are your favourite - and I also see, what are they? Ah! Def - Delph -"

  "Delphiniums," Mrs Taylor offered.

  "Yes!" Ramsey exclaimed, "but that is not all. There's a pathway th
rough them, not stone but a lawn path, that leads towards a larger topiary like I have never seen before."

  He looked at Mrs Taylor, noticing how her eyes drunk him in and changed his tone slightly, stepping back from the anticipation. "It's arranged in a fan-shape, I can see how round it, oh! Wait, there's a head on it. Is it? Yes, it's in the shape of a peacock, and I can see a plaque there."

  "Yes, and?" Mrs Taylor asked, swallowing again and thrusting her upper body forward a little. Ramsey could feel it and he could also hear the hushed whispers of two of the other women who listened in. Emily's voice in his ear also confirmed it.

  "Stop encouraging her," she hissed in his ear. "She's going to pop out of her dress soon."

  Ramsey suppressed a grin and looked back at Mrs Taylor. "Amanda," he started. "I see the flower arrangement you sponsored winning at the Statton Botanical Gardens Flower Show."

  "Oh! You are such a lucky charm!" she answered, and Ramsey found himself stepping back as she stepped forward.

  "Give my regards to the Deputy Mayor," he smiled, keeping his distance.

  "Do me! Do me!" a couple of other women responded, thrusting their hands out for him, and he had to hold back from laughing.

  "Do me! Do me!" Emily imitated sarcastically. "They sound like a bunch of hussies!"

  Ramsey couldn't help smiling at Emily's joke, and laughed, picking the next volunteer. He held her hand in his and was about to speak when a vision, dark and suffocating, enveloped him.

  He breathed, relaxing, asking permission from the vision to see everything so he could understand better. A moment later, he found himself sitting in the driver's seat of a car he didn't recognise. His right hand was on the wheel, the other was in Mrs Taylor's lap. No, it wasn't just her lap, it was on her bare thigh, moving underneath her red skirt. He looked towards her face, seeing it contorted in an ecstatic expression, pleasurable moans escaping her mouth. Ramsey tried to stop but he couldn't; he was in a vision, not a dream. He happened to look towards the window, noticing it was dark outside, just the street and shop lights outside. It looked like he was on one of the main streets of Statton, in the city's centre. His gaze caught his reflection in the darkened window, only it wasn't his face that looked back; it wasn't the deputy Mayor's either.

  A ringing sound snapped his attention towards the iPhone docked on the console's charger. He reached for it, looking at its screen, reading the caller's name, Jenny, seeing the photo displayed; it wasn't Mrs Taylor's face.

  His hand lifted the phone to his ear. "Hi, babe!" It wasn't his voice answering, but it sounded familiar.

  "Honey," a voice responded from the phone's speaker. "Where are you?"

  He paused. Ramsey's thoughts were not the same as the thoughts coming from "him" in the vision. "I've been working back, babe. Time got away from me."

  "Is that bitch working you hard?" The voice sounded angry, yet sympathetic with him.

  He looked at Mrs Taylor, felt her hand in his lap, fingers manipulating him down there. "Yeah, she has been. I'm the other side of town at the moment. I'll be home in about -"

  BAM! He saw it a moment before it hit, glass smashing, searing pain that lasted barely a moment. The pole that speared through the windscreen crushed his head through the driver's seat. The car tipped, the world whirled about.

  Ramsey woke from the vision, his volunteer searching his eyes in wonder. "What do you see?" she asked.

  Ramsey looked at her, his physical vision coming back to replace the psychic vision. His eyes still adjusting, he caught eye contact and recognised her. "Your name's Jenny?"

  The beautiful brunette looked back at him, starting to shake a little with worry, and nodded quickly. She knew that it wasn't the best.

  He squeezed her hand, reassuringly, learning at the same time that she had two young children and a husband. "Your husband's name is Jamie?"

  Her voice cracked. "Yes! How did you -?"

  "You should know by now," he answered, forcing a humorous smile as he tried to settle his heartbeat. What a vision!

  "Jamie has been working back late a lot lately, hasn't he?" - she nodded - "And you want him to stop it?"

  She looked towards Mrs Taylor and Ramsey noticed her expression; she knew Mrs Taylor's reputation as an immoral man-eater and how she preyed on married men. "Yes, I don't want him to miss out on the children, watching them grow. They love their Dad a lot."

  Ramsey excused himself from the group, ushering Jenny away to the side with him. He pulled out a chair from a nearby table, asking her to sit next to him, and took her hand again; this time it was for reassurance. He looked her in the eye.

  "Jenny," he spoke clearly, "I believe you know what I know, right?"

  She paused and he squeezed her hand gently; Jenny nodded, a tear formed in her eyes. "It's been going on for some time. I know what's been going on and I have confronted that bitch." Looking at him, Jenny's eyes glistened; he handed her a handkerchief and she laughed. "I didn't know that men still carried these."

  Ramsey shrugged, his head moving side-to-side. "I wasn't sure why I brought it with me until now either." She laughed at that and he continued. "Jenny, what I have to say is not all good, but sometimes you have to go through hard times to grow stronger, and I know you will. Can you do me a favour?"

  A little relief flooded through her; he continued. "Please understand that I don't like giving bad news, and that's because I am careful to not give you a self-fulfilling prophecy. What I know is that you will experience loss, but I want you to remain strong." Ramsey paused, picking up more vibrations from her as he spoke. "Your children will grow up to be strong and good, and you will get to watch them all get through college, marry and have children. And you will never be alone."

  She bit her lip, thinking. "He's going to leave me, isn't he?"

  Ramsey held both of her hands between his, looking her in the eye. He didn't like predicting death and he didn't like delivering bad news either, particularly when at a party, which should be a happy occasion. Ramsey debated in his mind. Should he tell her Jamie was going to die? No, he couldn't do that. Should he tell her to not call her husband tonight, in the hope of preserving her life? Ramsey generally believed the future is not set; there were times when he had been able to change the future by changing just one little thing. This time, however, he knew there was no way around it. He had also seen an alternative future; in that one, Jenny called him sooner and Jamie started to drive home, still answering the phone when his lover rang him, and dying in another accident. A third future also presented itself to him and, in that one, both Jenny and Jamie died. Either way, Jamie was going to die.

  "Yes, and not in the way you expect, but it will be soon." Ramsey patted her hand, letting her know the reading was over. "Just stay strong, okay?"

  Jenny managed a smile. She didn't know everything that Ramsey meant but she understood there would be some hard times soon, and that she had to stay strong for the kids.

  THE REST OF THE LADY Mayoress' Club event went smoothly, much to Ramsey's relief as he wanted to keep his contributions a positive experience for everyone. It must have worked; the other attendants still lined up for readings with him, and only a few of them wanted their reading to be private, asking him for a card to book him later. As he read each lady, he noticed a few gave him visions similar to Jenny's, visions of a horrible death by road accident. Although Ramsey still felt the aftershock of Jenny's reading, this prepared him so he could give a better response by warning them to "don't answer Gary's call while you are driving, it's not that important" or something similar.

  Emily, who had been watching throughout the party and saw the incident with Jenny, asked Ramsey about it on the drive home.

  "This spirit is going to keep on killing people, Emily," he responded. "I saw it and I know one of the people he will attack tonight."

  Emily looked shocked. "Do you mean he's going to kill one of those ladies? Is it that horrible tarty Mrs Taylor?"

  Ramsey turned a corner, probabl
y a little sharply but Emily didn't notice, being a phantom. He laughed. "Not exactly. She is there when it happens though."

  "Ooh," she responded in disgust. "I hope that changes! Who is with her? Not that slutty Sarah?"

  Ramsey looked at Emily in disbelief. "Emily! I've never known you to be so judgemental before."

  Emily snorted, a hint of a smile appearing on her face with a twinkle in her eyes. "Women never change in history, Craig, dear," she answered. "There are always those who want to sample everything they can, even if it's not theirs." Her eyes lowered a little and Ramsey wondered if she meant something from her past.

  "Anyway, I picked it up from Jenny's reading that something will happen -"

  "Oh no!" Emily cried. "I like Jenny, the poor thing! You have to help her."

  Ramsey smiled. "She will be fine," he responded. "The thing is, I think I know what attracts this spirit to kill his victims."

  Ramsey started explaining what he noticed from the visions. Every single victim was in a car and using their mobile phone while driving. The spirit never attacked the passengers using phones, only the drivers who let the phone distract them.

  Emily clapped her hands with the revelation. "Wonderful! How come no one has noticed it before and said something?"

  Ramsey laughed aloud. "They have! For the past five years, at least, the message has been in the media. The police even lay charges and heavy fines on those caught talking on their mobile phones while driving."

  Emily's eyebrow raised in disbelief. "And no one listens?"

  Ramsey paused, pressing the accelerator when the light changed to green. "Yeah, some do. A few may stop using their phones altogether, a lot of hands-free devices are marketed - just like the blue-tooth I have for my phone - but there are still the temporary Australians who continue to try to use them. They know they're doing wrong and so they try to hide it by using the phone in their laps, for example. Either way, it still distracts them from the road."