Dead Cell

by Chris Johnson

  THUMP THUMP

  Brianna's heart tripped; her eyes jumped towards the sound. They hadn't hit her.

  That was lucky. Emily's voice sounded like a shout in her mind.

  Brianna focused, pushing her legs against the driver's door to catapult herself past the front passenger's seat, so that her left hand touched the footpath. She wiggled again, flinching as more bullets hit the car; the windshield shattered; she found herself on the ground now. Her shoulder still hurt to move but she could do nothing about that. She shut the passenger door.

  You must not tarry, dear. He's a spirit. He can move wherever he wants. Nothing will stop him coming around the top of us.

  Brianna felt a trapped feeling overcome her, remembering something from her time in Afghanistan. Back then, she dealt with living people; this time it was someone with nothing to lose, not even their life.

  A clattering sound, with a sound like heavy stones on a tin roof, punctuated the air. Brianna dropped, more out of instinct than from Emily's help. She squatted down again, and remembered her pistol. How could she forget it? The shots continued from above as she reached towards her hip holster.

  What exactly are you going to do with a pistol against a spirit? Emily's voice asked her. Although her words sounded blunt, Brianna could sense that Emily saw the humour in the situation. Brianna left the pistol in its holster, leaving her head down as the bullets started coming from a different direction.

  "IT'S UP TO YOU TO DECIDE when to live, and to appreciate the opportunity you have." Craig's voice held his determined tone as he spoke into the comatose man's ear. He paused for a moment, watching as the man's face started to shimmer; a tear formed in the corner of Shane Denton's left eye; its lid flickered a touch, but remained shut. Craig's eyes never left Denton's sleeping face, watching him closely for almost a minute before he exhaled a breath he didn't realise he had been holding.

  SILENCE FELL OVER THE area; it was as shocking as the hail of ectoplasmic bullets had been.

  "Is he moving now?" Brianna whispered, feeling uncertain and shaky; her heart was beating like a trip-hammer.

  I don't know, dear. Emily's voice seemed cautious too. Brianna sensed that her invisible friend and ally was looking about as well, and wondering about their attacker's actions. I can't see him around. He could be -

  A sound shattered the silence close behind them; Emily's voice shrieked in Brianna's mind; Brianna cried out in surprise too. It was Brianna's mobile phone ringing. Brianna let out the breath she had been holding, with a laugh, and then stopped.

  Was the spirit assassin still around? Would he hear her laughing?

  It's Craig calling you, Emily reported, her voice filling Brianna's mind with warmth. Brianna noticed how familiar Emily's tone sounded when she mentioned Craig's name. How did she know Craig?

  Brianna felt dizzy, woozy, wanting to throw up as she collapsed and fell hard to the ground. She tried to get up but exhaustion filled her body, so it could not respond. Blood pooled around her. She couldn't stop it. Her limbs felt weak, heavy and useless.

  "Emily?" she called, barely stopping her head hitting the bitumen. "What's happening? Am I dying?"

  There was no answer, just silence's report. Brianna's body even felt emptier with Emily's silence. She felt alone, darkness filling her eyes. She could just hear the engine of a car as it approached, a fading sound as she passed out.

  CRAIG FELT EXHAUSTED, mentally and emotionally, as he stood from his chair and walked out of Shane Denton's hospital room. He stretched his back, pulling his shoulders back and puffing his chest out, feeling the kinks come out. A nurse walked in, her eyes surveying the scene as she did so, and approached the foot of the coma patient's bed. She offered a small smile to Craig, nodding her head when she saw his clerical collar, and read the chart.

  "I heard you talking to Mr Denton," she told him. "How long have you known him?"

  Craig smiled, doing his best to adopt a priest-like manner. "I witnessed his wedding," Craig responded. One of the psychometric impressions he had received earlier had actually been of Shane's marriage to Rebecca. Although he wasn't there on the day, he had watched it.

  The nurse smiled, eyes shifting towards Denton's face. "Tears," she observed. "He must know you're here."

  "Really?" Craig excused himself, letting the nurse go about her work. "His family will be glad to hear that."

  He felt an excitement welling inside him as he hurried down the hall, avoiding two orderlies who were pushing an empty wheeled-stretcher from a lift. Craig side-stepped them to get in the lift and rode it down to the ground floor.

  Hurrying down the hall, without drawing undue attention, he stepped into the lift and rode it to the ground level. Once outside, he took out his phone again to dial Brianna's number. She had not answered last time and he hoped everything was all right. Craig wondered if he might have been getting too attached to Brianna as he waited for her to answer her phone, or was he justified in feeling concern. The phone went to message-bank again. This time he didn't leave a message. Brianna is probably busy, Craig decided, and hung up. After all, she is working on catching a sniper.

  His Jaguar seemed to shine in the morning sun as he approached it. Unlocking it, he sat down in it and started the engine before fastening his seatbelt. It was time to go home. Perhaps he would catch up with Tyrone and have that "father-son chat" to catch up.

  Tyrone wasn't home when he arrived. He picked up the phone, telling its voice-activated assistant to call Tyrone. Craig waited until Tyrone's voice message greeting played. Feeling a slight niggle of worry, he left a message for his adopted son. "Hey Ty, how are you feeling today? Do you want to talk?"

  This was the first time in months that Craig could remember feeling at a loss in finding something to do. He felt happy with his accomplishment that morning and there was no one to share it with; not even Emily was around, since he had sent her on her -

  "I'm back," Emily reported, walking through the wall from outside as if never existed. "You will be happy to know that your girlfriend is nice and safe."

  Craig noticed Emily's worn inner expression although she sounded bright. "I was just wondering where you were," he answered. "You would not belie-"

  "Oh!" Emily exclaimed, her hands thrust on her hips. "You sound so happy. Didn't you just hear what I told you? Your girlfriend, Brianna, was nearly killed this morning. I assume you cared as you tried to ring her twice."

  Craig's jaw slackened and his eye opened wide. "Died?" He remembered that he had tried calling her and she hadn't answered. "I take it that she's alive?"

  "Of course, she's alive," Emily retorted. "You did send me out to keep an eye on her like some jealous boyfriend, didn't you? Although she -"

  Craig held a hand up, raising his voice to interrupt. "Where is she now?"

  For the second time that morning, Craig headed back to the hospital and hurried towards the A and E entrance. He slowed himself down as he approached the desk, breathing hard from worry, and asked where he could find Detective Cogan. After a brief conversation, he convinced the receptionist that he was Cogan's relative. It is amazing how saying you are someone's partner can mean so many things. Although Craig was Brianna's partner with their case, the receptionist assumed he was Brianna's partner in other ways. He didn't object. They may not have let him in otherwise.

  Following the receptionist's directions, he soon found himself walking past some beds, each separated by a dark green curtain wall, until he came to the detective's cubicle.

  Craig gasped at the sight. Emily had already filled him in on the way to the hospital about what happened earlier. But seeing Brianna's bandaged shoulder, her arm in a sling, and her bandaged leg, was worse than hearing it. Brianna's head was resting upon a pillow and her eyes closed as though asleep. Being careful to make no sound, Craig moved into the room, and sat in the chair by her bedside; the chair made a tiny squeak as it took his weight. He stopped still as a mountain, not daring to breathe as he didn't want to wake her.
She didn't respond to the noise, so he let himself exhale gently.

  "Oh, the poor dear," Emily said, bustling around to check on her bandages. "She's a tough lass still, this one."

  "Emily?" Brianna's lips whispered. "Where did you go?"

  Emily looked as shocked as Craig did at Brianna's perception of her. She stopped still, wondering if it could be true, and whispered a reply. "I'm right here, Brianna."

  Brianna's eyes opened, still feeling heavy from fatigue and the sedative. She winced as she tried to move. Her eyes opened wide when she saw Craig sitting beside her. Her voice sounded croaky. "What are you doing here?"

  Craig smiled, a concerned look still on his face. "I heard the spirit assassin came for you."

  Brianna blinked her eyes, trying to recall what happened, and lay back on her pillow. Her tired eyes turned towards Craig. "Yeah. I shouldn't have used my phone while driving."

  "That's what I told her," Emily told Craig. "Shouldn't she know better?"

  Brianna reacted, turning in Emily's direction. Seeing nothing, she turned back to Craig; her brow and forehead held a slight furrow. "Who told you?"

  Craig was still speechless after Brianna's reaction to Emily's voice, and he didn't know what to say. He paused for half a beat. "I talk to spirits, remember?" He tried to force a grin but Brianna saw through it. "Would you like some water?"

  "Who is Emily?" she asked, her voice still carrying a croak, as she looked him straight in the eye. Her eyes pierced his, reading his expressions, and Craig felt certain that Brianna had cottoned on. "Is she one of the spirits you talk to?"

  Craig felt confused. Few people could see or hear Emily unless she wanted them to. Brianna hadn't shown the natural signs of sensing Emily before, not in the way that Tyrone, or Debra, could.

  "I must have been dreaming," Brianna decided.

  Craig shook his head. "Emily is a spirit I talk to," he admitted. "She used to live in -"

  "I used to live in Scotland, many years ago," Emily explained, sitting on the side of Brianna's bed opposite to Craig. She continued speaking as Brianna turned to face her voice. "You could say I have known Craig a long time ... a very long time."

  Brianna tried to move quickly, unsure what to think. It had been shocking enough to find Emily, a spirit, was controlling her body in the car earlier; But, she didn't have time to feel and express that surprise before, given ectoplasmic bullets were flying about the place. She even tried explaining to herself that it had been the adrenalin-charged moment playing tricks with her mind. When she woke just now, she thought it might have been the after-effects of shock, maybe even the sedative doing something to her. But now, Craig was in on this as well, knowing about Emily who was talking to her now still.

  "Is this the drugs doing something to me?" she asked, shaking her head. "Craig, I feel like I'm hearing this Scottish woman's voice talking to me. She almost sounds like Karen Gillan from the Doctor Who show."

  Craig smiled. "No, it's real," he told her. "Can't you see her?"

  Brianna shook her head. "No, but I can hear her."

  "You could find that changes, given time," Craig told her. "I found the same thing when I was a kid. Do you remember me telling you about that?" Brianna nodded. Craig added, "Emily was the first I could see. I couldn't hear her at first but, after thinking for a few days I was going crazy, I could hear her as well."

  "Now we know for certain he's crazy," Emily quickly chimed in, and Brianna laughed.

  Chapter 21

  A rich shuddering orgasm exploded through Joseph's mind as he bit into the burger. Egg, barbeque sauce, fried beef patty and bacon swam through his mouth, filling him with comforting satisfaction as he mauled it about with his tongue. His teeth chomped through the food, and he swallowed it, allowing the flavours to wash through his mouth and disappear as it went down his starving gullet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, licking the taste's residue from his otherwise dry lips. He felt he needed that meal after the morning's efforts.

  The television brought light and life to the darkened room in his forest cabin, driving back the shadows and voices in his mind. The old voices, those of the enemy were there, but he could not hear the other one. Where had his partner's voice gone, the one who worked with him as a reliable teammate?

  Joseph recalled hearing the voice earlier, declaring he would kill the bitch, the rotten pig bitch. The Other Guy thought that the detective, although a pain in the bum, was all right; someone he could count on to look after the civilians, help protect them from themselves. So Joseph felt surprised when The Other Guy declared war on her. He remembered the voice of frustration as she survived The Other Guy's bullets, and waiting to hear how it went. The Other Guy had managed to wing the policewoman, right in the shoulder ("Hey, sometimes we miss," he remembered telling him at the time), and two more in the leg and arm. Then it all went silent.

  Sally Green was looking into the camera, describing the carnage on the expressway. That was his carnage. It hadn't been as easy as it had before. Saturday had been hard enough in the afternoon, and he wondered if it might have been The Other Guy's handiwork. Somehow, he had allowed the press and the public to believe he was some kind of ghost; it was probably due to how no one had managed to catch him. So, someone had created a fake video, placed it on YouTube, showing it from different angles. It looked like a ghost had been killing people, killing them because they were using their phones while driving. But, there wasn't just one video. There were at least five different videos out there, all showing the same event. Something about the spirit seemed familiar, reminded him of someone he'd lost. It had to be coincidence, right?

  Whatever. The views on it had gone into six digits, way past five hundred million, and they were growing. The comments below indicated that some people felt sceptical of it, seeing it as another piece of the propaganda to get young people off their phones while driving. Of course, he knew that people would see it that way. The authorities had been posting these warnings for so long, nearly twenty years, but no one listened. Even the authorities, the police, did the same.

  That's why he loved The Other Guy. He knew what it took to stop people from doing it. Tough love. That's what it needed. Despite the sceptics, there were still those who listened and heeded The Other Guy's warning. Joseph had noticed the drop in people using their phones while driving. Yes, there were still those doing it, but it had taken him longer to pick those targets.... And it made the game that much more fun.

  He watched the news story with more interest. The female detective, Cogan they called her, had survived the shots. What happened? Had his good buddy dropped the ball or had someone managed to get him? Was he hurt?

  Well, whatever was happening, Joseph knew what had to be done. There were still plenty of them out there, defying the laws set up to protect them from themselves, playing with other people's lives.

  Joseph had to save the Innocents. The Other Guy may have missed this time, but that's life. If you fall off the horse, you have to get back on.

  He finished the burger, swallowing the rest of it and screwing up the wrapper. It landed in the bin at the other side of the room without hitting the sides.

  Damn, right.

  "You have to get back on that horse," he growled before chugging back on the soft drink.

  Joseph stopped drinking, and stared off into space, a wistful crossing his face. What was that? He turned around, away from the television screen, letting his finger dance in the air. Something wanted to come out. It could be the idea he needed. Ah! Of course!

  His friend had the right idea, whether it was by planning or accident. Tell the world! That's what he had to do, and that's what he would do.

  Joseph looked in the corner where several electronic devices sat. He was close to finishing them. He just needed to test them. If they proved successful, Plan B would be ready to rumble.

  THE BLACK CAT'S EYES glowed a spooky white, reflecting Joseph's car's headlights as he drove down the street towards his sister-
in-law's house. It seemed hypnotised by the dazzling light until the moment when his car entered a slight dip, breaking the spell. He smiled as the eyes disappeared and he watched the feline's outline as it darted off into the darkness, probably behind one of the flowerbeds. Joseph didn't want to kill the cat anyway.

  He had been working late into the night on his project and needed the sleep. Rachael had offered him the spare bedroom to use, figuring that she knew he wasn't feeding himself properly. Since her husband was in hospital, Rachael may have felt she needed someone else to look after in that time - as if her children weren't enough. Joseph didn't mind. It made him feel useful too, being a second father to the kids and they still needed that feeling of security another male family member could give. Rachael also understood his need to be a lone wolf, letting him come and go as he wished.

  He turned the car into their street and felt his senses prickle. What was that?

  Joseph took his foot off the accelerator, letting the car slow a little, as he watched. Did he just see two faces then? He looked at the car ahead of him, flooded by his headlights.

  Hackles rose on the back of his neck and across his arms. Slowing down from fifty to thirty, he watched the other car's front seat as he passed, trying to focus his eyes. They were waiting opposite from Rachael's house and he could have sworn he saw them duck down when his car approached. He could see nothing now but he was taking no chances.

  Joseph decided to drive past Rachael's place. It was too much of a coincidence if the Other Guy's voice in his mind had stopped. He didn't know if the cops had caught the Other Guy, and if he was seeing people staking out the house, then he needed to watch his back. His family didn't even know of his plans and he didn't want them involved. One of them looked like he had caramel skin too, like the Muslims in Afghanistan. What if they were after him now too? They could still have had a price on his head.