A Ghost for a Clue

by C L R Draeco

  I rushed down the steps and towards the chamber, as though all that was dear to me had been threatened, before it registered in my confounded mind these were nothing but muddled memories. Corrupted data—damaged and desperately repaired. I slowed down, realizing there was no way of—or point in—grabbing both the child and woman out of there.

  Coming to a stop by the chamber, I looked back, and my heart sank. My impulsive dash had cost me my connection to Franco.

  Eldritch addressed himself to the chamber. “I have some sad news to share, Thomas. Your wife and son, they’re both gone now. They’ve both passed away.”

  The images of the woman and child disappeared, leaving behind the hyperwill in the ill-fitting suit, frowning. “No.” His lips continued to move, but no sound came.

  “He’s insisting that he sees them living amongst us,” Eldritch said.

  “You’re mistaken,” Triana said, looking at the chamber. “Those are my children whom you see.”

  The image grimaced as though in pain.

  Suddenly, I sensed a presence behind me, and then a familiar, overwhelming fragrance that could only be . . .

  I turned and was stunned to find Starr standing there, tears glimmering in her eyes.

  “It’s time for you to go into the light,” Starr cried towards the glass chamber. “It’s time for you to join your Maker.”

  The Verdabulary issued a pleasant greeting. “Good evening. Where is Torula?”

  “Leave Torula alone,” Eldritch said sternly. “You’re hurting her.”

  The hyperwill let out an agonizing moan, followed by the deep voice of the Corpse Plant. “Your stress is affecting me.”

  The image in the chamber crumpled and distorted, transforming into a fourteen-year-old version of me, smiling. I stepped back and gaped at the sight of myself through Triana’s eyes from those many years ago—that last day, when I had to leave after my parents’ death. “See you around, Spore.” Then a wound opened up between his eyes—my eyes—and blood slowly oozed down.

  “He’s saying goodbye,” Triana said urgently.

  “No!” I said. “We have to stop him.” He could be a bridge to Franco. What if this was our only means to reach him? What if . . . What if . . . “We still don’t have our answers.” I looked desperately at Triana. “We need to show something to Tromino.”

  “Please, Eldritch,” Starr said, her hands clasped. “Guide him into the light. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “No, Bram’s right,” Triana said, rising from her seat. “He’s proof the world needs—that the afterlife is real.”

  “You’re breaching a holy boundary,” Starr cried. “All of you. This isn’t part of God’s design.”

  The psychic frowned, one hand on the iCube, the other gripping the chair’s armrest, as he glanced from Triana to Starr to the image in the chamber.

  “Set him free,” Starr called out.

  “No, we need him.” Triana reached out and touched Eldritch’s hand. “Please . . .” she said looking intently into his eyes.

  The hyperwill’s image exploded into a thousand shards of meaningless data. “I’m thirsty,” groaned the Verdabulary. Where the young man had been standing, the likeness of Truth appeared, blood dripping from his nose. Then it twisted and morphed into Torula, pale and weak, with blood oozing out of her nose too.

  The next instant, a blinding white light burst inside the chamber. I shielded my eyes and turned away, but the light remained; it shone inside my mind. Then just as quickly, it imploded into darkness.

  From out of the sudden, somber gloom, a familiar voice spoke crisp and clear. “Now, it’s my turn.”

  Starr glanced our way. “Who said that?”

  “You’ve been ignoring me,” said a vivid image of Franco that suddenly appeared right next to Starr, looking at her. “I told you it’s the wrong bishop.”

  She shrieked and staggered away. The next instant, he was gone.

  56

  Our Own Version Of Salvation

  Get the data and run.

  Those words flared in my mind as soon as I noticed the Green Manor’s security guards in their black and dark green uniforms. They were standing in the shadows some distance behind Starr.

  What did Franco mean by “It’s the wrong bishop?” Was it him who gave Starr the idea to tell her uncle? Would she tell us now if I asked?

  “You’re in contempt of court,” Starr said, still breathing heavily from the shock of Thomas dissipating and Franco appearing and disappearing.

  I heard Triana’s voice from behind me along the stone path. “A Petition for Injunction with Prayer for a Temporary Restraining Order. Who else but you would come swooping down to grant the church’s prayer?”

  I mustered my most unruffled grin as I struggled to find some way of getting my hands on the Verdabulary information.

  Eldritch took a slow pace descending the platform, his eyes to the ground, brow furrowed.

  Damn. I wished he’d stayed up there. I needed his high-level security codes to be able to copy any data.

  Starr lowered her arms to her sides, as though bracing for a showdown. “I believe in the Lord’s promise of eternal life. That’s why I’m here to make sure that every soul remains free to receive it.”

  “Do you mean that?” Triana asked. “Every soul?”

  Starr’s meticulously shaped brows crinkled. “What are you implying?”

  “Cite me one passage from the Bible that says even a nonbeliever can have an immortal soul,” Triana said.

  “A nonbeliever?” Starr blinked several times. “Well, I certainly don’t have every word of the Bible memorized.”

  “Really?” I asked, honestly surprised. “Nothing off the top of your head?”

  “Well, there is a passage from John. That whoever does the will of God lives forever.”

  “And God’s will is for us to believe, isn’t it?” Triana glanced at me. “So what about us? Shouldn’t we start looking for our own version of salvation? If we’re not meant to go down this path, God can just step right in and stop us.”

  Starr gestured at herself and the manor guards behind her. “Well, this is God, stepping in.”

  “Why?” Triana asked.

  Starr looked up at the starry sky through the glass ceiling, as though listening for whispered guidance from the divine. “And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment.” She focused on Triana. “For the wages of sin is death, yet salvation in Christ gives us eternal life.” She laid both hands on her chest. “I believe that, in my heart of hearts. What you’re trying to do is only for God to give.”

  I scratched my jaw, like I was getting a rash from all the scripture flying around like pollen. “Could you quote us something written within this millennium, not two thousand years before my grandparents were born?”

  Starr charged towards me, a crimson fingertip pointed at my chest. “Every culture has a complex belief in the afterlife. Every religion, a version of an eternal spirit. Belief in the hereafter is part of being human. It’s burned into our DNA as a species. Atheists are the aberration.”

  “Does that mean we’re the next step in our evolution?” I considered it a compliment. “You’re calling me a mutant.”

  “I’m calling the police,” Starr said. “You’ve violated the restraining order.”

  “Let them go,” Eldritch said.

  “Them? You’re among the guilty.”

  “Dr. Benedict,” Eldritch said, “what has just happened has made it clear that the Verdabulary is attracting other souls who wish to communicate. And this last spirit’s message to you was to stop ignoring them. Don’t take away this new link between our world and theirs.”

  “Were you ignoring him?” I asked. “Has this last hyperwill shown itself to you before?”

  Starr raised a brow. “Why are you so curious? So you could capture this new spirit to take the place of the one who’s crossed over?”

  I swallowed. If I confessed that I kne
w the “new spirit,” it would be the same as saying yes.

  “I urge you to reconsider from the perspective of science,” Eldritch said. “All these years, I’ve been guiding spirits into the light. Whether they were believers or nonbelievers, I never asked. Because I believed there was something waiting beyond the barrier. But I never really had a basis for that belief. Especially now that you’ve reminded me that that gift isn’t meant for everyone. At least, according to the Bible.”

  Starr nodded. “It’s also in the Book of John. ‘Whoever does not believe stands condemned already.’”

  Eldritch lowered his gaze. “I never knew where I’d been sending them, but it seems to be a place many souls choose to avoid.”

  “You’ve been doing the right thing, Eldritch.” Starr’s eyes softened. “Don’t misunderstand what’s going on. Christ wasn’t avoiding reuniting with His Father when He stayed on to finish His business with His disciples. He remained on Earth, but after forty days, He ascended.”

  “But the Bible is for believers,” I said. “Science isn’t bound to accept the idea that there are souls lingering out there dealing with unfinished business. Give us the data that’s been gathered tonight so we can uncover the facts.”

  “And you think science will pay any attention to you?” Starr crossed her arms. “None of you have the credentials to make this study any more credible than it’s ever been.” She flicked her gaze around the three of us, from Triana to Eldritch to me. “She deals with crazy people, he talks with the dead, and you’re a wannabe-astronaut who wants to talk to aliens.”

  Triana huffed in frustration. “I can’t believe my daughter considers you her best friend. You have nothing in common.”

  Starr’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Be grateful that something good came out of this evening. The hyperwill we called Thomas has been set free. Because of that—and because I am Torula’s best friend—I’m allowing you to leave. But have no doubt, all the data gathered during tonight’s illegal activity will be deleted.”

  57

  He Was My Friend

  Eldritch, Triana, and I were escorted by manor guards to our cars, and from there to the gates. Triana and I remained silent until we were out on the road; that’s when I said, “At least, we still have a chance,” at the exact same moment that Triana declared, “Well, that was a complete disaster.”

  “What did you say?” we both asked each other.

  I smiled. “You first.”

  She looked at me, brows raised. “We’ve lost Thomas and will probably never get access to the Verdabulary again, and you’re still hopeful?”

  “I know the guy who appeared afterwards. I mean, I knew him. Know him. He was my friend. Or . . . is.” I scratched my head.

  “How do you know him? Or did.”

  “He was a colleague at Langley and a good friend. He died in a car crash just a few days before I came here. And I think it’s a good thing that Thomas opted to . . . do what he did because I think that’s what allowed my friend to get through. He was waiting for his turn.” I twirled my finger in the air. “And he’s the better ghost to brainstorm with Torula on the other side.”

  Jesus. I can’t believe that last sentence really came out of my mouth.

  Triana closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as if to savor the aroma of what I’d just said. With eyes still shut, she asked, “Please tell me you know how we can find him again.”

  I couldn’t. So all I managed to do was swallow.

  She must have heard me gulp because she asked, “At least, tell me you have a plan.”

  I didn’t. So all I managed to say was, “I’ll work on it.”

  Just as we arrived at the hospital, Triana received a call telling us to head straight for the ICU. But rather than take us to Torula’s unit, an intern led us to a small meeting room next to the ICU section.

  It had a table just right for six and a monitor on the wall. No windows and no attempt at décor of any kind. Even the plastic-and-metal chairs weren’t all that comfortable because, I guessed, no one was expected to sit here for very long. This was probably where doctors met with family members to give them heart-wrenching news. Or where they were left alone to discuss if it was time to pull the plug.

  I felt nauseous as I sat down to wait next to Triana.

  Tromino walked in with an invisible dark cloud that defied the stark bright light of the room.

  “How is she?” Triana asked.

  “She’s been moved to ICU. What else could that tell you?” Though his mother had asked the question, Tromino’s eyes—brimming with hostility—were trained on me. “You. Are poison. You’ve pinned my sister’s hopes on a lie.”

  “Stand down, Tromino Jackson,” Triana said. “Is she conscious? What happened?”

  He huffed a hot breath and took a seat at the end of the table, next to his mother, away from me. “Her latest MRA showed a sudden progression of another steno-occlusive lesion. Her risk of fatal stroke has gone up tenfold. That surgery is her only chance, and yet she’s canceled it—because you gave her faith . . . in a hard drive?” He looked at me as though he couldn’t believe I had any semblance of a brain.

  “It’s real, Trom,” Triana said. “The willdisc is real. I’ve seen what it can do.”

  “Oh, yes, absolutely,” he said with a sneer. “She’s told me all about what it can do, and that Bram had to kill a dog to prove it.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “This is barbaric.”

  “It’s all part of medicine. Part of the oath to defy death,” Triana said. “We saw off limbs, drill through skulls, and cut babies out of their mothers to save lives.”

  “Your solution isn’t medicine. It’s murder.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “It isn’t murder when a doctor stops a patient’s heart and cuts it out so he can replace it. We need to do this so we can save her.”

  “How? By pressing Ctrl+S?” Tromino glowered at me. “Torula’s made of a genetic code, not a binary one.”

  “Hyperwills are alive,” I said and sensed a heavy load suddenly lifting just by saying the words. “The hyperwill we saw, it—he had emotions. Sentience. He had a vision of a future and chose to give it up when denied what he wanted most. He may have been just a fragment of a lifetime, but whatever he was made of? It was enough to make him feel.”

  “I think, therefore I am,” Triana said then laid a hand over her heart. “I feel, therefore I live.”

  Tromino got up and paced then faced us again with eyes filled with sorrow. “What kind of future will my sister live stuck inside a disc?”

  “I can bring her back.” My heart thudded with dread over my own claim. “Not as a disc full of data, but as the living, breathing woman we all know.” Triana’s gaze bore through the side of my skull as she watched me conjure up an empty promise—a promise Torula blindly believed I could fulfill.

  “How can you be so sure when no one’s ever done it before?” Tromino asked.

  “Do you think it bothered Neil Armstrong when he was told to take a walk on the moon?” It was a left-field rebuttal, but it made sense to me. Torula was, in a way, going to take a giant leap for mankind.

  Tromino gaped at me. “You think you can bluff your way through this?”

  “Oh, give him a break, Trom.” Triana waved a dismissive hand. “We all know it’s never been done before. Every breakthrough medical procedure had, at the outset, never been done before. So stop being a bully and let Bram resurrect her.”

  “Resuscitate her,” I corrected, and rose to my feet. “After she transitions her data into the willdisc, we buy Dr. Najafi the time to do what needs to be done surgically. Then, we allow her body to heal before she transitions back and we revive her—making it all part of a life-saving medical procedure.”

  “Of course.” Tromino looked at me with a withering frown. “The surgeon couldn’t possibly kill her because you’ve already done the job.”

  I heaved a breath and forced myself to calm down. “I have a design—a robot calle
d Petey. A physical therapist for astronauts in suspended animation. It’s even caught the attention of Dr. Rubin Grant of the Johnson Space Center.”

  “And how does that help us?”

  “Petey could help Torula recuperate from post-mortem surgery.”

  “Post-mortem sur—” Tromino’s face contorted. “You mean ‘autopsy,’ you idiot. And your influence has caused my sister to lose her mind.”

  “She’s not losing her mind . . . she’s losing her life, and she’s doing all she can to fight it.”

  “Tromino,” Triana said in calming tone. “Your sister is willing to risk her body so we can save her soul. That way, even if the operation doesn’t succeed, we wouldn’t lose her. We’ll have time to find another way to make it work.”

  “That’s the whole idea,” I said. “To buy time to figure it all out. Damn it, Tromino, don’t cut her open just so she could die fighting.”

  “So why don’t you just let her do that?” Tromino asked. “Let the operation proceed. And if there’s a problem, you can step in.”

  “But you told me yourself,” I said. “A peaceful death is out of the question.”

  “I told you?” Tromino scowled. “What kind of twisted—”

  “The HPA axis. You said it needs to be under duress to trigger a strong enough sine wave pulse. A set of three, remember?”

  Tromino’s expression shifted from disbelief to sheer hatred. “You manipulative son of a—” He lunged. I stood my ground, but Triana rose and shoved her hand against her son’s chest.

  “Stop blaming Bram for all that’s happening. It’s not his fault your sister got into this. It’s mine. I pushed her into it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tromino asked, glaring at his mother.

  “I’m the one who wanted her to study death. I’m the one who told her to go and chase the ghost. How could I have known that the price for understanding death might be her own?”

  He shook his head weakly and moved away. “We’re doctors, Mom. Our job is to fight for life, not study what comes after it.”