The Dead

by Gatward, David

‘Totally,’ said Craig. ‘There’s no way he could make it up. I’ve known him for years; his imagination just isn’t that clever.’

  ‘That’s what I like most about you,’ said Lazarus. ‘The unwavering support. But now what?’

  Clair stood up and walked to the corner of the room where Lazarus had seen the rip. ‘This is where you saw that portal, right?’

  ‘I never called it a portal,’ said Lazarus, desperate to distance himself from anything that sounded like he was taking this seriously. ‘And at no point did I use any kind of language to suggest that any of this is for real. It was a rip or a tear, like in a curtain or something.’

  ‘But this was where it was, right? Where you saw those creatures and the Dead?’

  Lazarus nodded. ‘I don’t know what they were,’ he said. ‘I just told you what I saw, and that’s it. Perhaps Craig is right. Perhaps I’ve watched too many of his awful horror movies.’

  ‘This is better than the movies,’ said Clair, and Lazarus could see the excitement in her face. ‘I mean, this is a real chance to make contact with the other side!’

  ‘You what?’

  Lazarus couldn’t believe what he was hearing – it sounded like Clair wasn’t just interested in finding out what had happened, but communicating with what he’d seen. He’d no idea how she was going to do it and he was absolutely sure he didn’t want to find out.

  ‘Don’t you see, Lazarus?’ said Clair, her hands raised to where Lazarus had seen the rip. ‘This could be the most amazing paranormal event in history! Here! In your house!’

  ‘No, I don’t see,’ said Lazarus. ‘All I want is to know what might have happened, that’s all. I don’t want anything to do with experiencing any of that again. Ever. Got it?’

  The only answer he got was a smile from Clair and a shrug from Craig. He knew they weren’t listening.

  9 Intruder

  ‘I don’t want anything to do with this.’

  Lazarus had watched as Clair had pulled from her bag about a dozen small candles in little clay jars and laid them in a circle on the carpet under where he’d seen the rip, then lit them. Craig had been all too happy to help and the two of them were now sitting inside the circle and talking excitedly.

  ‘Whatever it is you’re doing, I’m not taking part,’ said Lazarus.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Craig. ‘You scared?’

  Lazarus snapped at this. He wasn’t scared of anything. Except perhaps what he’d experienced the night before, real or not.

  ‘I’ve done this before,’ said Clair, getting herself comfortable on the floor, her legs crossed. ‘All I’m going to do is knock on a door. I’m not going to open it.’

  ‘I don’t actually give a damn,’ said Lazarus. ‘You go ahead and make yourselves look like complete idiots. I’m going to sit this one out.’

  ‘You sure?’

  Lazarus nodded and Clair turned back to Craig.

  ‘Right,’ she said, ‘I’m just going to attempt to contact the other side.’

  ‘Oooh, how creepy,’ said Lazarus.

  Trouble was, deep down he knew that the reason he was giving them a hard time was because he was more than a little scared of what Clair and Craig were now doing. It felt very, very wrong. It wasn’t that he believed it would work, that Clair would manage to do anything except make Craig feel happy, but that he couldn’t get away from the nagging feeling that if it did, something bad would happen. And after the night before, the word ‘bad’ had taken on a whole new meaning.

  Clair’s voice interrupted Lazarus’s thoughts, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying; it sounded prayer-like, but her voice was little more than a mumble.

  ‘What’s she saying?’ Lazarus asked, looking over at Craig.

  Craig shrugged. ‘Sounds cool though, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t think this is a good idea,’ said Lazarus. ‘It’s just stupid. We’d be better off just cleaning up and forgetting about it all.’

  ‘Shush!’ hissed Craig. ‘You’ll spoil it!’

  ‘Spoil what?’ sniffed Lazarus. ‘This is total nonsense, you know that, don’t you? Everything I saw was a nightmare. That’s the only explanation. I had a nightmare and went sleep-walking. That’s why I don’t remember causing any of this damage. I don’t know about the blood yet, but I’m sure there’s a rational explanation for it, too. But that’s all any of this was.’

  Craig went to reply but a crash sounded through the house. He was on his feet in an instant.

  ‘What the hell was that?’

  ‘Came from the front of the house,’ said Lazarus, alert.

  ‘You mean your dad’s study?’ said Craig.

  ‘Probably a cat outside or something,’ said Clair, remaining on the floor in the circle of candles. ‘I’m going to have to start all over again now.’

  ‘That’s no cat,’ said Lazarus. ‘For a start, we don't own one, unless Dad bought a lion and didn't tell me about it. And anyway, that came from inside the house, not outside.’

  Clair had started chanting again.

  ‘She seems normal,’ Lazarus nodded to Craig, ‘but she’s a nut.’

  ‘Takes all sorts,’ said Craig. ’You think that sound’s some idiot trying to break in?’

  ‘Reckon so. And that’s the last thing I need with all this crap to deal with as well.’

  Lazarus was angry now. Trying to deal with what had happened in the living room was one thing, but if some jerk was breaking in, he wouldn’t be held responsible for his actions if he got a hold of them. Pact or no pact with his dad.

  ‘Just a thought,’ said Craig, hesitating. ‘If it is someone breaking in, do you really think it’s a good idea to go out there and tackle them?’

  Lazarus picked something up from the floor. It was the poker from the fireplace. He pushed to the back of his mind the memory of the last time he’d held it and why and said, ‘I’m going to make them regret waking up with the idea of even coming here in the first place.’

  Lazarus yanked open the door and ran into the hallway, the poker already raised for an attack. After everything that had happened, the confusion, the fear, the panic, he was just in the mood for a good fight. Craig was fast on his heels, a piece of the broken bookshelf in his own hands.

  Lazarus had no plan of attack. Instead, he just crashed through his dad’s study door, Craig right behind him. As the door flew open, they both stood there, primitive weapons raised.

  For a moment, the room looked empty. Then Lazarus saw the open window and movement behind his dad’s desk. The drawers of the desk were open, letters and papers and whatever else they’d contained scattered all over the floor. And someone was standing over a smashed desk lamp.

  Lazarus recognised the stranger he’d seen staring at the house when Clair had shown up. He’d known something wasn’t right then and now here they were. They must’ve been scoping the place out for a bit of breaking and entering.

  Lazarus gripped the poker so hard his knuckles turned white. He saw Craig do the same with the piece of wood and was immediately impressed with his friend. They’d never been in a fight together before, but it was pretty reassuring to know Craig was someone he could depend on, no questions asked.

  No one moved. No one spoke.

  Lazarus ground the silence between his teeth.

  ‘I saw you watching the house earlier,’ he said, his voice filled with menace. ‘Who the hell are you?’

  The person didn’t speak. Lazarus still wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman. He or she was tall, thin and the grubby-looking coat and long dark hair disguised any possible means of identification.

  ‘Whatever it is you’re looking for, you can’t have it,’ Lazarus went on. ‘You hear me?’

  The intruder had something in one hand. It was a book.

  ‘Put that down,’ Lazarus roared. ‘Put it down and back off, alright? I mean it.’

  The person in the coat didn’t move. To Lazarus it didn’t seem as though he or she was in an
y way scared. It felt almost as though this person would have no problem dealing with whatever he and Craig could do, and walk away utterly unscathed.

  ‘I said put the book down and back off,’ repeated Lazarus.

  The person slipped the book into a coat pocket.

  ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ said Lazarus, his blood close to boiling. ‘You really shouldn’t have.’

  But as he moved forward, the person spun with such speed towards the open window that neither Lazarus nor Craig had time to react. And then they were gone, having dived head-first through the gap.

  Lazarus dashed to the window, then turned out of the room, flew to the front door and ran out into the front garden. But the stranger was gone.

  Craig came out after him. ‘That was totally impossible!’ he exclaimed. ‘To just jump the window like that. Unbelievable.’

  Lazarus didn’t have an answer. It was just another weird thing to add to an already super weird twenty-four hours.

  ‘Come on,’ he said grimly, ‘let’s go see if anything else other than that book is missing.’

  It didn’t take Lazarus long to realise that, thankfully, the only thing missing was the book – and that it was nothing more than his dad’s most recent diary.

  ‘But why nick that?’ said Lazarus, slumping down in his dad’s office chair. ‘What’s the point?’

  Craig shrugged. ‘Maybe he just grabbed the first thing to hand when we disturbed him. You know, didn’t want to leave empty-handed.’

  ‘I guess.’ Lazarus considered it. ‘Still doesn’t make sense though, does it?’ He motioned at the desk with his hand. ‘It even looks like he was actually here to find that diary – nothing of value’s been taken, and the only stuff that’s been disturbed is Dad’s papers and stuff.’

  ‘You figure he knows your dad?’

  ‘How should I know? But if he was after the diary, then he must’ve been trying to find out something about Dad. But what? What would a diary tell him?’

  ‘Where your dad is,’ suggested Craig.

  Lazarus looked at Craig. ‘And why would anyone other than me need to know where Dad is?’

  Craig said nothing.

  ‘Best of luck to whoever that was,’ said Lazarus. ‘Perhaps they’ll have better luck contacting him than me.’

  He thought back to finding his dad’s mobile in the desk a few hours ago. That sense of being so very alone swept over him again.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, pulling himself out of his dad’s chair. ‘Lets finish off with Clair and then decide what to do about this, OK? It’s not like we can call the police over a stolen diary, is it?’

  Craig nodded. ‘Not really, no.’

  They left the study and walked back to the living room, Lazarus first. But when they entered, Clair wasn’t sitting in the circle of candles; she was standing in the far corner of the room, her hand tracing an impossible, inky black circular line in the air that was seeping darkness into the lounge.

  A line Lazarus knew was the exact place he’d seen the rip appear in the air the night before.

  10 Deathly Pale

  Lazarus didn’t wait for Craig. He dashed across the room to Clair.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he screamed, his eyes on the black line in the air. It seemed to float there like a thin trail of smoke, except that in places the two sides of the line were starting to peel apart like a zipper.

  Clair didn’t respond. Her finger just kept on tracing in the air. Lazarus could see that soon the two ends of the line would meet. And he really didn’t want to even guess at what could happen if they did. He’d seen this before, but Red had been here then, protected him from the Dead. But this time, they were alone.

  He turned back to Craig.

  ‘Do you know what she’s done? Or how she’s doing this? Why can’t she hear me? What do we do?’

  Craig’s face was blank. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I mean, I’ve seen Clair do stuff like this before, you know all the candles and chanting, but nothing like that!’

  ‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better? I though you knew all about this stuff?’

  ‘Clair knows what she’s doing,’ said Craig, his voice shaking a little. ‘At least I’m sure she does. She’s not in to this because it’s freaky or scary. She’s just interested in the afterlife and ghosts.’

  ‘That doesn’t explain what she’s doing now, does it?’ snapped Lazarus, pointing at Clair.

  Craig looked at him, shook his head and said, ‘No, I guess not.’

  Lazarus knew he had to do something. Looking back at Clair, at the line in the air, he could picture the rip, or portal, or whatever it was that had appeared in the room the night before.

  ‘You need to stop!’ he pleaded. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing, what you’re playing with! I’ve seen what’s on the other side of this. Trust me, you really don’t want to see it too.’

  Clair did nothing but smile and continue with the line. Lazarus knew she hadn’t a clue what she was doing; her eyes were somewhere else, like she was staring through a haze of drugs. He was beginning to panic now. The edges of the line were peeling further and further apart, Clair’s finger working like a knife cutting a hole in a large sheet of paper. And the piece of air inside the line was beginning to flap; Lazarus could feel a dry heat wafting over him.

  Lazarus grabbed hold of Clair’s top and pulled. She didn’t move. Not an inch. It was like she was stone. He pulled again, then tried pushing, but it was no good. Whatever it was that Clair had started, she couldn’t control. Someone – something – else was running this show now. Lazarus didn’t dare imagine what.

  On the floor were the remains of the shelves from the bookcase. Lazarus ran over, picked one up, then turned back to Clair. When he raised the plank of wood, he paused for a second. Was he really going to hit her? Was that really the only way to stop what she’d started?

  The questions died as a familiar stench leaked into the room. Lazarus felt his head swim, had to stop himself falling to the floor. Bile was in his throat and he had to focus hard to not throw up. Something was coming… he just knew it. Something from the other side of what Clair had just opened.

  Then Lazarus saw something push through the nearly complete hole in the air. And he knew he’d seen something like it before.

  It was one of the Dead.

  A thin arm with greasy skin flopped over the edge of the hole and grabbed on to Clair. Lazarus saw its fingers dig into her skin. The rest of the Dead’s body was following. A head was coming through now. It reminded him of the photos they’d all seen at school during sex education: pictures of a woman giving birth.

  It’s now or never, thought Lazarus. Even if this doesn’t work, there’s nothing else I can do.

  He raised the plank.

  ‘NO!’

  Lazarus turned to see Craig running towards him.

  ‘You can’t hit her with that!’ he yelled. ‘You can’t! It’ll kill her!’

  But Lazarus had made up his mind. With every ounce of his strength, he brought the plank of wood down. It slammed into the arm slipping out through the hole. The force Lazarus had used sent him off balance and he toppled forward. A squeal from the other side of the hole shot out into the room. Craig dropped to the floor, his hands holding his ears. Clair screamed. Lazarus saw that the hand was still holding on; it didn’t want to let go of Clair, not one bit. Without a second thought, he brought the plank up high, then smashed it down again. The arm crunched under the impact. Lazarus saw it buckle. The squeal grew louder, then another sound joined it: a flapping, wet sound. A tentacle flashed out from the other side of the hole, wrapped itself round the arm, and pulled.

  The arm tore off. A splash of black and red burst in the portal like a balloon filled with paint. Then the portal collapsed on itself. Clair dropped like liquid. Lazarus caught her before she ate it on the floor, but only just. They both landed on top of the candles, snuffing them out and kicking hot wax everywhere.


  For a while the only thing Lazarus could hear was the sound of his own breathing as his nausea faded. Then Clair’s voice slipped into the air.

  ‘What…happened?’

  Lazarus pushed himself up on to his knees. He was angry. Clair had messed with stuff she hadn’t a clue about, that was more than obvious. But at least she’d clarified the fact that he was actually sane and hadn’t made any of the previous night up.

  Lazarus wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

  ‘You had no idea what you were doing, did you?’ he screamed.

  ‘It’s not that,’ said Clair faintly and Lazarus could see sweat beading all over her face, like she’d just jumped off a treadmill. ‘Something else happened. I don’t know what it was.’

  ‘I’m not interested,’ Lazarus snapped back. ‘But at least I know I’m not nuts!’

  ‘What the hell was that?’

  It was Craig, his face pale and sweating.

  ‘That was a little taste of last night’s main event,’ Lazarus said, seeing the fear in his friend’s eyes. ‘Clair here opened up a hole to wherever it was that Red and everything else I saw came from.’

  ‘But that’s impossible!’ Craig exclaimed then turned on Clair. ‘What did you do? I thought you knew what you were doing!’

  ‘Apparently not,’ Lazarus replied. He looked back at Clair. ‘You OK?’

  Clair pulled herself up from the floor and dusted herself down, but the movement caused her to lose balance and she quickly reached for the wall. ‘I think so,’ she said. Lazarus could see she looked anything but. She was deathly pale, like all the blood had drained from her, and she was shaking. ‘But I feel sick and my head’s banging like crazy. What happened?’

  Her description of how she was feeling reminded Lazarus of exactly how he’d felt, not just when Red had turned up, but the moment he’d seen that arm push through the tear and grab Clair. He wondered if Clair had felt something because she’d been the cause of the hole being opened, willing or not. Or was it because she’d been touched by one of the Dead?

  ‘I need to go home,’ said Clair.