A sound like a swarm of bees crept up on him. Alex turned. A haze filled his vision. It faded as it approached. The mass coalesced, and three men walked out of the swarm. One had the head of a jaguar. The second had the head of a man, and the third’s head was a skull. They came to Alex, moving swiftly over the ashen land.
Run.
He heard the voice and thought for a moment it was his own until he realised it was female. Alex turned, and in a heartbeat, they were upon him. The ground opened, and Alex fell into a void. He hit bottom with a force that shook his spirit. This shouldn’t be happening. Physical experiences in spirit form were impossible. Skull-head landed alongside him, jaws rattling. The deathly grin froze Alex as powerful arms reached for him. Alex jumped away. He saw, in the dim light that filtered down from above, that he had fallen into a cellar. Decaying brickwork filled his vision. Steps led up, covered in ash and broken masonry. Alex saw a door at the top, and he ran for it as fingers clawed for his spirit.
He reached the top of the steps, and the door opened. Jaguar-head snarled at him, its breath heavy with the stench of dead meat. Alex fell back into the arms of Skull Head. The two creatures laughed as he struggled. They threw him to the floor of the cellar. Pain burst through his chest as rubble dug hard into his ribs.
This can’t be happening.
Alex scrambled up, in the opening above him he saw the fractured sky. He rose towards it, his spirit flying. Jaguar-head awaited him. As Alex came out of the cellar it pounced, and Alex fell again, caught in a web of chains that weighed his spirit down. He hit the floor of the basement once more. The chains grew in size, holding him in place. The three creatures appeared in his vision once more. As one they lifted Alex and pinned him to one wall.
The three creatures stepped back and rose above him. As they did so their bodies dispersed into the same swarming mass that Alex had first seen. The swarm rose and vanished from view. It left Alex a prisoner. He tested the chains. In reality they didn’t exist. But this wasn’t reality. They were psychic bindings, forced onto his spirit-self, but as good as the real thing in this world.
Alex lay back, trying to calm his racing mind. He needed to escape but the creatures had him trapped, and the only way out was to break their control over him. The sky began to darken and rain fall. It spattered down onto him, chilling his spirit. Alex began to shiver as night fell and the rainfall continued.
Back at the lab did the technicians even realise he was in trouble? What would his brain activity be? Wild or empty? Alex pulled on the chains. No movement. His arms trapped at his side as the bindings ran from chest to hips.
Alex shouted for help even as he knew there would be no-one to hear him.
He let his head sink forward onto his chest. Think. Why have they done this?
No answer came. Alex raised his head. He couldn’t see the sky any longer. The darkness in the cellar was so complete he may as well have been buried alive. Alex tried once more with the chains and got nowhere.
Shit.
His body would be comatose. Basic functions would take place, but otherwise it would look to the outside world that he was in a coma. Alex knew he had to signal them somehow. Reach out from this plane to theirs.
But how?
The answer came a few minutes later. Imagine being stranded on a rock, trapped by the rising tide. There is no phone signal but you have a phone, and the phone has a flashlight. But in this spirit world what is the equivalent of a flashlight?
I am.
Alex settled, trying to relax despite the bindings that pinned him to the wall. He built the thought of a lighthouse and centred it on himself. The beam, all powerful, would sweep out and illuminate the world. Touching not just this one, but others.
A signal in the dark. A cry for help.
Alex drew a breath. He screamed, throwing all his energy into sound. His throat tore, and his lungs emptied. Alex saw the light pierce the gloom as the message cut through the walls between worlds.
***
Daisy and Hannah were out walking when the phone call came. They did this most evenings, Daisy trying her best to get Hannah into running again. To make up for the lack of speed Daisy made sure they completed a three-mile loop at the kind of pace that an infantry soldier would call a forced march. After the first few weeks, Hannah did get into it and even seemed to enjoy being outside. Some days, if the weather was bad and she didn’t think they’d meet many people, Hannah wore her hair up. Today, with the sun bringing dog walkers and parents with kids on bikes onto the paths, Hannah’s hair and face were down.
Daisy wanted to say something. Her friend’s growing obsession with the way she looked now would damage her. With the sun at the backs and the last half-mile to go Daisy said, “Come on, let’s run the rest of the way.”
“No.” Hannah shook her head.
“Well I am,” Daisy said and started jogging.
That’s when her phone rang. She stopped. Hannah caught her up and laughed. “Saved by the bell,” she said.
Daisy gave her a look that said ‘you will run one day’ and answered the call. She listened without speaking for thirty seconds and said, “Have you called Geordie? I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”
“What’s happened?” Hannah asked.
Daisy hesitated. “A problem,” she said.
“And you can’t tell me,” Hannah said the words as a statement of fact and not a question.
“You’re on sick leave,” Daisy said.
“Yeah, I know.” Hannah turned away. She began walking in the direction of home. Daisy trotted until she was alongside her friend.
“I’m sorry,” Daisy said. “I didn’t mean it to come out that way.”
“It’s okay.” Hannah gave her a glimmer of a smile. “I’ve been thinking about resigning anyway. That way you won’t be able to tell me anything.”
“Don’t do that.” Daisy took hold of Hannah’s arm and stopped her. “Come back next week. You don’t have to do fieldwork, but there are research positions available.”
“I think I need a complete break,” Hannah said. “I’m going to move away and start again somewhere new.”
Daisy saw tears in Hannah’s eyes. She stepped in close and hugged her friend. “Don’t go yet. I’m not going to try and persuade you to stay with the Department, but see if you can get work around here. At least then your friends will be close by.”
“Okay.” Hannah took a breath to control her emotions. “You best be going.”
“I’ll race you back,” Daisy said.
Hannah grinned. “On three?”
“Yes.” Daisy set herself ready.
“Three!” Hannah shouted, and ran.
***
Forty minutes later, Daisy looked down on the comatose figure of Alex. Next to her, Geordie seemed to simmer like a volcano about to erupt. She could see the slow rise and fall of Alex’s chest as he breathed, but other than that he appeared to be in a deep sleep.
“He’s been like this for almost two hours now,” the chief scientist, Dr Lu, said. “We’d expect what we refer to as slow wave sleep as his brain activity reduces. That happened but then continued to decline. We’re concerned about that, and the fact there has been no movement towards REM patterns. It’s as if Alex isn’t in there.”
“He isn’t,” Geordie said.
“Well, he has to be.” Lu tapped his chin.
“Well, he isn’t.” Geordie walked around. With something approaching gentleness he touched Alex’s shoulder. “Alex, me old mate, if you can hear me can you do something with your brainwaves. A little blip so the eggheads can see you’re alive.”
Nothing happened. The researchers examined the EEG results with hopeless eyes.
“We’re in trouble,” Daisy said.
“Not as much trouble as Alex.” Geordie pointed at Lu. “He gets twenty-four-hour surveillance. If you need to feed him, then get it sorted now. I guess you stick something down his throat.”
“I’ll call a medica
l team in. But Alex could wake up at any moment.”
“If he does then we all cheer,” Geordie said. “If he doesn’t then we’ve made the right decision early enough to keep him sustained.”
“Yes.” Lu nodded. “You’re right.”
“Good. Now Daisy and I are gonna go and figure out how to get the kid back.”
“We need another psychic,” Lu said. “Alex could well be lost and need some guidance home.”
“Bad idea,” Geordie said. “Send another psychic, and you lose two for the price of one.”
Lu seemed ready to argue until he saw Geordie’s face. “Okay,” the researcher said, fast enough that he stayed on Geordie’s good side.
Geordie touched Daisy’s arm. “Let’s go,” he said.
She came with him, looking back at Alex’s still body. In the corridor, Daisy said, “What do you think happened?”
“No idea.” Geordie leaned against a wall with his arms folded. “Do I look like an expert on dream walkers and the like?”
“Jesus, Geordie, I was only asking.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I know. Sorry, but this has pissed me off. If Holdstock had listened to us we’d have taken Alex’s warning seriously instead of sending him into harm’s way.”
“Do you think he had the same vision and...” Daisy trailed off, unable to find the right words.
“Got hurt?” Geordie shrugged. “Can spirits get hurt? I mean, I guess they can die but if they die doesn’t the body go with them?”
“If that’s the case then Alex is still alive,” Daisy said. “Maybe sending another psychic is a good idea.”
“You’d need more than one.” Geordie pushed away from the wall. “You’d need a whole team of them, and then there’s no guarantee of success.”
“So we abandon him?” Daisy’s heart went cold.
“No. We ask around. I wouldn’t put it passed Lu to put his idea to Holdstock and for that idiot to agree. We need to be ready with another, better plan.”
Daisy followed Geordie as he strode down the corridor. She had to trot to keep up with his long strides. He led her back outside to where they’d parked their cars. The sky had grown dark and the air chill during their time in the Hall. Daisy shivered as she retrieved a fleece jacket from the back of her Golf.
“The best psychic we know is Emily,” Geordie said. In the spill of light from the Hall’s spotlights, he looked like a rugged giant. Daisy tried to concentrate on his words and not on the idea that he would be heading to an empty house five miles away.
“We can’t ask her to look for Alex,” she said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“But she might have an idea about what happened to him. Do you have contact details that we can use without asking for them through official channels?”
“I think Hannah might.”
“Ask her.” Geordie started towards his car before stopping and asking. “How is Hannah?”
“She’s thinking of resigning.”
“Get her back. Once she’s in, and the blood starts pumping, she’ll wonder why it took her so long to return.”
“I think it’s more than that,” Daisy said. Geordie came back. That made her smile.
“In what way?” he asked.
“I think she’s broken and needs a fresh start. She was talking about moving away, but I think I convinced her to stick around where her friends are.”
“Yeah, better to be miserable with friends than miserable alone.”
“Wow,” Daisy said. “You’re cheerful.”
Geordie shrugged. “You got lucky when we moved out of the hall. You ended up in a house share. Me, I go back to a rented house and nothing else.”
Daisy saw a chance. “So why not go out one night? We could meet for a drink or a meal.”
Geordie’s shadowed eyes seemed to zero in on Daisy and pin her to the spot. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Um,” Daisy made a sound in her throat that Geordie interpreted as a ‘yes’.
Geordie rubbed at the scars on his cheek. “Just friends?”
“Of course,” Daisy said, with her fingers crossed.
“Okay.” Geordie grinned. “There’s a first time for everything, and that’s the first time a girl has asked me out.”
“That’s because you haven’t met the right kind of girl.” Daisy punched his arm.
“Jesus,” Geordie rubbed at the spot she’d hit. “You’re not Joanne Kramer in disguise, are you?”
Chapter Six
Pete Walsh could hear the phone ringing from the back yard where he stood, watering the lawn. Jane and Emily were out, scouting shopping malls in the area now that they’d made the decision to settle in the US and not the UK. He waited for the answerphone to kick in, and when it did Pete concentrated on the last few square yards of yellowing turf.
With his divorce finally coming through, Pete and Jane decided that Chicago would hold too many memories for both of them. From Pete’s perspective, it would be his career in the police, marriage and his success as a novelist. For Jane, it would be the night she almost lost Emily to a bunch of resurrected proto-hominids, and did lose her friend Julie Zabel to the same creatures as Julie saved Emily’s life.
No, Chicago wouldn’t be the place to spend their first years together as a couple. They made the decision on where to go by asking Emily to stick a pin in a map. So here they were, Charlotte, North Carolina. If Pete wasn’t a man of his word, he’d have moved the pin somewhere further north. But with Emily starting middle school he needed her settled. When she finished Eighth Grade, he might suggest another move. It all depended on how well she made friends and on how much her psychic talent showed itself.
He finished watering and rolled up the hose before wandering in to see who had called. The one thing he missed was a dog. He had Emily on his side if he suggested getting one, but knew that Jane wasn’t so certain. Pete grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat in the living room. The place already felt like home and they’d only been here a couple of months. Pete smiled at the reaction of their new neighbours. The automatic assumption had been Pete moving into the area with his daughter and granddaughter. The muted shock at a ‘welcome to the neighbourhood’ barbeque when he and Jane explained that they were indeed a couple and planning on marrying lasted about twenty minutes. All the men gave Pete a look of approval, and all the women seemed to withdraw for a while until they realised that Pete and Jane were in love.
Pete lifted a hands-free phone from the table next to his armchair and dialled up the recording. With a sinking heart, he heard a female voice say, in an English accent.
‘Hi, it’s Hannah. I hope you don’t mind me calling, but I need to speak to Emily. It’s a question, and I fully understand if you want to keep her away from me but I, I mean we, really need her help.’
Pete put the phone down and stared off into the middle distance.
Not again.
***
Jane and Emily returned home forty minutes later, laden down with enough bags of clothes to make Pete wince at the thought of the pain his credit card would suffer. But the smiles on their faces and the laughter they brought into the house soon banished that idea. Emily talked twenty to the dozen, pulling skirts and tops from bags, scattering the new purchases around in a way that made Pete glad they didn’t have a dog yet.
He held up his hand. “Okay, okay. I’m no good at looking at clothes and saying if they’re nice until they are on you. So why don’t you take these up to your room and put some on so we can have a fashion show.”
Emily whooped at the suggestion, grabbed a bundle of items and allowed her mom to shove the rest on top, before running upstairs.
“Wow.” Jane sat down in relief. “I think I need a vacation after that.”
Pete smiled, leaned down to kiss her and said, “Does my card?”
“Mmm,” Jane sounded embarrassed. “I’ve no idea what the final bill will be.”
“Don’t worry,” Pete said. “I’ll have to write
another best seller.”
Jane nodded. “Why don’t you do one based on our experiences with Emily? Write what you know, isn’t that what they always say?”
“Yeah.” Pete realised his voice sounded flat because Jane’s smile vanished.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Pete could hear Emily thumping down the stairs, and he turned to watch her do a model-like walk into the room. She wore a dark blue pleated skirt that reached to mid-thigh and a plain white t-shirt. Pete realised with a start how much Emily had grown in the last few months. She almost looked like a young lady even though she was only twelve. He smiled and clapped as she did a twirl. “Very nice. What’s next?”
“It’ll be a surprise,” Emily said, as she dashed from the room.
“Pete?” Jane said quietly. “What’s wrong?”
Pete sighed. He’d hoped Emily’s arrival might have interrupted their conversation enough that he could move it onto brighter topics. No such luck. Jane rose and came to stand in front of him. “Mr Walsh?”
“We had a phone call when you were out. I was in the garden, so it went to voicemail.” Pete retrieved the phone and scrolled through the menu to the answer phone symbol. He pressed play and passed it to Jane without a word.
She took it with a frown and Pete watched her eyes close as Jane listened to the message. She whispered, “No.”
Pete took the phone back and put it down. Jane stepped into his arms. He held her close, breathing in her scent. The top of Jane’s head came level with his chin; her light-red hair tickled as he kissed it. Pete still wondered how someone young enough to be his daughter could steal his heart.
“We can’t,” Jane said, her voice muffled by his shoulder.
The Tomb (Scarrett & Kramer Book 3) Page 8