You can’t actually be in her head. You can’t actually be INSIDE her head. People don’t have screens behind their eyes or huge holes where their brain should be. You know that. You haven’t been shrunk and stuffed in here, as that’s not possible. So this…HAS…to be a dream. Right? You have a voice, don’t you? You can speak, can’t you? Can you get your breath long enough to speak?
Charlie opened his mouth, and found that speech was almost outside of his capabilities. A strange, strangled squeak came out of his throat, barely audible, and he felt no breath come from his lungs. He tried several more times, shaping his mouth around the sound in an attempt to form words, but got nowhere.
Focus, you fucking arsehole. Focus.
Eventually, he managed to squeak out a word that sounded a bit like ‘Hey’ and, encouraged by that success, he tried to repeat it. He managed it again on the third try, then kept going, the word getting slightly louder each time until something gave way and the bass came into his voice.
‘Hey…’
With that, the ability dropped into place. He knew how to do it, his mind remembering the logistics of speech like a dancer going through a long-abandoned but well-rehearsed routine. He looked out through the screen with sudden purpose, determined to find out if she could hear him.
“Hey…hey…” he gasped, his lips feeling loose and clumsy, new to his face almost. Charlie sat up, hoping to get more volume behind it, more projection. He had to at least be as loud as the TV for her to hear him, if she was even capable of doing so.
“HEY,” he managed, but there was no external response. Charlie’s heart sank, and almost abandoned the whole attempt, resigning himself to the only hope he had; that this truly was a dream, and thus something he could hopefully wait out until his alarm clock broke the spell, returning him to blessed normality. Things might have turned out very differently if he had, but instead Charlie found the strength to kneel upright and produce something approaching a scream.
“HEY!!” he squawked, and fell back onto his behind, exhausted. Staring at the glowing screen before him, dejected, Charlie then saw a hand come up into view, holding the remote control. A finger hit the mute button.
Charlie froze.
The image on the screen swung upwards, showing the white ceiling with faint yellowed patches on it here and there, and hung there for a second or two. It then travelled back to the TV screen, and as the hand holding the remote came up again, Charlie realised what was happening and felt a fresh jolt of panic. Without thinking, he blurted out a noise, desperately needing to cause any kind of sound in an attempt to be heard, a fallen and undiscovered climber hearing the rescue begin to move on.
“BAARGH! BA BA BAAA!” Charlie screeched, falling forwards as he almost dove towards the screen in his clumsy response to the images upon it. The hand hesitated, and then the view was getting up and travelling across the living room and down the hallway. The woman was going to look through the spyhole in her front door, and as she did so, the fish-eye effect of the glass on the huge screen made Charlie’s stomach lurch, but he still saw the fairly dirty looking stairwell outside and realised that they were in some sort of apartment block.
Charlie stared, trying desperately to pull himself together, and assessed the situation. She could hear him then; but she certainly didn’t seem to be aware that he was there. So she could be as unwilling in all of this as he was? Did she know nothing about this?
It’sadreamitdoesn’tmatteranywayit’salladreamsowhocares—
He didn’t believe that though. He couldn’t. There has to be some sort of explanation, and he couldn’t be physically in her head, so this was…an out of body experience? Some sort of psychic link?
Charlie surprised himself with his own thoughts. Where the hell did all that come from, all of those sudden, rational thoughts? True, he’d been confronted with something so impossible that he didn’t really have much choice but to look at the available options, but…was he adjusting again? When this all started, he didn’t even have a body, but that quickly followed. Was his mind following suit? He was still trembling, his shoulders still rising and falling dramatically with each rapid, shallow breath of nothing, but his mind was at work now, the shock suddenly absorbed and moved past far more quickly than it would have been, he was sure, were he in his own body. Whatever was going on, being here was…different. He felt his equilibrium returning, his awareness and presence of mind growing. He was scared, and he was confused, but he was getting enough of a grip to at least function.
You have her attention. Don’t lose it.
He opened his mouth again, got nowhere, reset himself, then tried again.
“Lady?”
The view jerked round, then moved sharply away; she’d spun around, fallen backwards against the door. The view then swung sharply left and right to either side of the hallway, looking to the bathroom doorway and then to the doorway of another, unspecified room. Charlie assumed it was a bedroom. He tried again.
“Can… Can you hear me?”
The view jerked violently. She’d just jumped out of her skin, her fresh adrenaline putting all of her physical flight reflexes on full alert. It was a dumb question to ask—she obviously could—but even with his growing sense of control, Charlie’s mind was still racing, his incredulity at the situation now combining with the excitement of finding that he could communicate with his unsuspecting host.
It was clear that she was terrified, and Charlie realised that he couldn’t blame her. She was hearing a voice within the safety of her home when she thought she was alone, and Charlie could only guess what it sounded like to this woman. Did his voice sound as if he were right behind her, or as his voice actually was; from the inside of her head? Charlie couldn’t decide which would be worse.
Get a grip, man. She’s going to shit herself when you start talking to her. Just…try and think, okay? Think straight. You have to get out of this. You need her to talk to you; you need her to get this sorted out. Get a grip, get control, and think smart.
“Please, it’s—” He didn’t get any further as the jump game again, this time with a little scream, one clipped short as if she was trying not to draw attention to herself. Charlie jumped with her this time, but pressed on. “Please, please don’t be scared. I’m shitting myself here too. Please. Please calm down—” The second half of this sentence was lost, however under a fresh scream from the woman; this time a hysterical, lengthy one that travelled with her as she ran the length of the hallway into the living room, slamming the door behind her. Charlie heard her crying and panting, watched her thin hands grab one end of the small sofa and begin to drag it in front of the door. The scream trailed off as she did so, and once the job was done, the view backed away from the door, bobbing slightly in time with the woman’s whimpering tears and gasping breath.
Charlie hesitated to speak again; he knew he simply had to, but what could he actually say without sending her off into fresh hysterics? The answer was immediate; nothing. There was no way to do it easily. She would have to realise that she was physically alone, and safe and the only way to do it was to keep talking to her until she accepted that there was no threat.
Easier said than done.
“I need your help,” he tried, wincing as the view leapt almost a foot upwards and then spun on the spot, accompanied by fresh wails. “Please, lady, you’re safe—” The wails increased in volume, to the point where he had to raise his voice to be heard. In doing so, Charlie realised that he now had his voice under complete control. And wasn’t the blackness around him a fraction less dark now, too? “Look, just calm down, all right? If you just listen for two seconds, you’ll find that—”
“Fuck ooofffff!!” she screamed, the sound of her deafening to Charlie’s ears. He clapped his hands to the side of his head, wincing and crouching at the force of it. It was like being in the centre of a sonic hurricane. “Get out of my flat! Get out of my flaaaaaaat!!!”
“Please!! Please don’t do that!” Charlie sho
uted, trying to be heard over the woman’s yelling. “Look, just shut up for a second, I don’t want to be here, I just want to—”
“Get out! Where are you? Get out!! Get oooouuuuuttt!!”she yelled, ignoring him, and as the view dropped to the floor and shot backwards—the living room walls now framing either side of the screen—Charlie realised that she’d dropped onto her ass and scooted backwards into the corner, into the space where the sofa had previously been. Frustrated, in pain, terrified, and pushed to his limit (it had been one hell of an intense five minutes, after all) Charlie let fly with a scream of his own, hands balled into fists over his throbbing ears.
“JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR A SECOND!!” Charlie screamed, and whether it was from using some volume of his own, or because her own screams were ready to descend into hysterical, terrified and silent tears, the only sound after that was that of the woman’s whimpers. The view still darted around the room though, trying to find the source of a sound that was well beyond her sight.
Charlie seized his moment. At the very least he could be heard, and that hopefully meant he could start talking her down. She was more terrified than him—of course she was, at least he’d had time to get used to the situation and she’d just discovered an apparently invisible intruder in her home—but he had to get through to her whilst she was at least quiet enough to hear him. Hysterical or not, she had ears, even if he appeared to be currently stood somewhere in between them.
“Look, I’m sorry for shouting like that, I just need you to listen for a second, okay? Just listen,” Charlie said, as soothingly as his own panicking form would allow. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Okay? It’s fine, you’re, uh…you’re not in any danger, all right?”
“Where…where are you? Where are you?” the woman’s voice sobbed breathlessly, small and scared. Her thinking was clear from the confusion in her voice; she was finally realising that she should be able to see the person talking to her, that there was nowhere in the room that they could be hiding. Charlie thought quickly, and decided that it was best to leave that one for a minute. He’d only just gotten her onside, and didn’t want to push her over the edge.
“I’ll tell you in a second. I’m, uh…I’m not actually in the room, you see. You’re alone in the flat, and you’re safe. You’re fine. Okay?” She didn’t reply at first, and the sobs continued helplessly, but Charlie thought that they might have been slightly lessened…if only by confusion.
“Wha…what?” she stammered, the view swinging wildly around the room now. “Your voice…what the fuck…what the fuck is going onnnnnn….” And then she was off again, the hysterical screaming coming back at fever pitch. Charlie stood in front of the strange, glowing screen, his hands at his ears again whilst she bawled, blinking rapidly as his mind worked. After a moment or two, his shoulders slumped and he sat down. There was nothing he could do but wait, and let her adjust. His own breathing was beginning to slow further, and he was finding acceptance of his situation to be an easier task; whilst it was no less mind boggling, his panic was dropping fast, unusually so. It’s just being in here that’s doing it, he thought. It has to be.
Either way, he let her have a minute or two to calm down; eventually, he stood and began to pace back and forth in the darkness, illuminated only by the unusual light of the screen, whilst he decided what to say next. His frantic mind kept trying to wander, to seize and wrestle all the aspects of the situation into submission, and failed every time.
You don’t like the dark. You don’t like the dark! Don’t think about it, don’t think about it…think about…wait…there’s no breeze in here, no echo. Is this a room, then?
He looked out into the darkness, looking for walls, and saw none; there was only seemingly endless blackness. Charlie thought it would be best not to go exploring just yet. He tried to control his breathing, and quickly ran through a mental list, double checking his actions and decisions of the previous few days:
Went to work. Did the late shift. Argued about sci-fi films with Clint. Helped Steve throw the drunk arsehole out that had started slapping his girlfriend. Went home, stayed up and watched a film because I had the Wednesday off. Met Chris in town—
And so it went on, By the time he’d finished a few minutes later—whilst he was no clearer about what had led him to be inside this woman’s head—he told himself he really did feel more capable of beginning to deal with things, and less frightened; in the absolute worst case, even though he didn’t believe this the actual case, this situation was real, and had to be resolved. If he’d gotten in, then he could get out. And if at the least, and more likely, this was a dream, then he would wake up and all would be well.
Yeah. And if I had wheels, I’d be a wagon.
Charlie took a deep breath, and decided to speak again.
“Are you ok?” The view jumped again, along with a fresh scream.
For fuck’s sake, Charlie thought.
“Look, we’re not going to get anywhere if you keep doing that,” Charlie said, not being able to keep the frustration out of his voice. “I’m sure you’re a smart girl, so just knock the screaming and shit on the head and we can work together to sort this all out, right? For crying out loud, if I’m not there, I can’t exactly do anything to you, can I? I know you’re scared, and I know this must have been a hell of a shock, but I’m not exactly a million dollars myself right this minute. So, please…come on. Just…have a minute, sort yourself out, and then we’ll…then we’ll carry on,” he finished, shrugging his shoulders in annoyed impotence. He knew he was perhaps being a little harsh, but he couldn’t help thinking he had a bit of a flake on his hands here. Being scared was one thing, but the complete collapse was another.
Don’t be a dick, Charlie, he reprimanded himself. You don’t know what she’s been through before now. You might be squatting in her head, but you don’t know anything about her.
It was a fair point. She seemed to respond better to his last outburst though, the sobbing drying up into skipping little breaths. She wasn’t responding to his annoyance, Charlie thought, but it might have been the honest approach that got through. Sometimes people just appreciated it.
“Your voice…” she said, and her own was steadier, but uncertain. “Where—“She hesitated, seeming to try and find a different question to ask, something else to say that would stop her from repeating herself. She then gave up. “Where are you? Where…where are you?”
She’s not going to drop that one. Would you?
Again, a fair point, and Charlie decided that the honest approach had seemed to work before.
“Look…okay, I’ll tell you,” he said, trying to find words to describe the impossible, “and I don’t understand it in the slightest myself, but it’s…it’s pretty heavy shit, okay? I mean, well, I don’t mean heavy as in serious, I’ve no idea what it is, but I mean heavy as in…hard to get your head around. It’s…weird. And we can’t be having any of the freaking out stuff you were doing earlier, okay? I need you to work with me. Okay?”
Silence.
“Okay?”
Another pause, and then the view nodded quickly; a rapid and short up and down motion that would have been barely noticeable to an outside observer, but made it seem to Charlie as if the flat was caught in an earthquake.
“Okay,” she replied, quietly, her voice breathy and small.
“Right…” said Charlie, speaking slowly and trying to prepare each word carefully. “I don’t know how this has happened, or why, but the last thing I remember is being on a night out with my mates, we were out in…wait-hang on, where is this? Where do you live?”
“Huh?”
“Which city? Which city are you in right now?”
“Coventry.”
“Jesus! That’s where I live!”
“…okay.”
In the brief pause that followed whilst she waited for him to continue, his mind grabbed the thought and filed it away for later. It might be relevant. Maybe they’d been somewhere in the city, b
een through something, something that caused a connection…
It’s a dream, remember? This is down to cheese and too many pints, or a bad kebab.
He dragged his wandering thoughts back on track, and continued.
“Anyway, anyway, we were out in Cov, and then we went back to someone’s house, and then, I don’t know, I must have fallen asleep or drank too much or whatever, but somehow…somehow…”
He stumbled, tripping at the vital hurdle.
“What?” she asked, the view still scanning around the room, as if hoping to find the answers there.
“Ah…ah fuck it, look, I, I, I woke up or whatever and here I am, in your fucking head. I don’t know how I got here, and hell, I might be gone in the next five minutes for all I know, but I’m here, I’m in your head, here I am.”
Silence again. Then:
“You’re…you’re what?”
“I’m in your head. I’m stood here, in front of this, this…” He waved his hands in front of the immense, ethereal screen before him, taking it in as yet another rapid flicker shivered across it. These had been happening constantly; later he would realise that this effect was due to her blinking. “This screen thing, okay, and everywhere else in here it’s just black, and I’m stood here, completely…” he trailed off, looking down at his genitals and deciding that it would probably be best not to mention the nakedness to a scared woman in a flat on her own, “…completely without any idea as to what’s going on.”
Silence again. Then:
“A screen…there’s a screen in my head? What…what screen, what the hell are you talking about?”
Charlie rubbed at his face, angry now, both with himself and her. Of course she didn’t get it, it was un-gettable, but she wasn’t even coming close to understanding and he was doing a lousy job of explaining it. He needed to get the important facts across if they were ever going to move on, and spare her the details. He needed a different approach.
“Look, don’t worry about that, forget it, forget it. Listen. Right, ok, I’ll start again. My name is Charlie. Charlie Wilkes. What’s yours?”
The Stone Man - A Science Fiction Thriller Page 44
