by Jon Jacks
‘I mean Googling; he looks at me like he’s really studying me all the time, searching for something. Like he’s trying to work something out about me that he hasn’t quite figured out yet.’
‘Sure it’s not just that he fancies you, eh?’
I shake my head.
‘No, no; his stare’s too intense. I catch him watching me every now and again. He turns away quickly, trying to make out he wasn’t watching me.’
‘Sounds like he fancies you to me.’
I give him another playful slap on the arm, making him drop the flamingo he’s making from a sheet of newspaper,
‘So how come you’re taking it all so calmly if he does, eh?’
‘Because we’re soul mates, of course.’ He grins, grabs me, wrestles me gently to the floor. ‘You can’t split soul mates!’
‘Chris, sorry, sorry, stop, stop!’
I try and push him off, trying to reach for the paper he’d dropped.
Something had caught my eye.
‘What?’ Chris backs away. ‘What’s wrong Twice?’
Grabbing the paper, I quickly unfold it, read the headline.
‘It’s the minister,’ I say. ‘He’s been murdered.’
*
‘It was the Nyxt again,’ Jake says assuredly when I mention the murder of the minister. ‘Obviously, the papers have reported it as a burglary gone wrong; but it was the Nyxt all right. He’s absolutely fuming, off course.’
‘Fuming? How can you know he– ahh, of course. On the other side, you mean?’
He nods, frowns slightly; like how else would he mean?
It’s evening, and we’re outside the home. Jake has called to pick me up, saying he’ll give me a lift into work.
He was ‘passing anyway’ he’d said.
Sure. And it’s nothing at all to do with checking up on me to see if I’m still hanging out with Chris or not.
‘Mary said he reckons he must have been a bit off guard; his lights went out at home, and he didn’t think anything of it. Put it down to a blown fuse. They were made up of all sorts of weird objects from his own house. Zapped the life out of him, just as they did with Mary.’
‘The Nyxt fear a war as much as we do.’
Hearing the girl’s voice, I turned expecting to see Mary.
‘Franky!’ both Jake and I say at once in delighted surprise.
‘Why would they kill the minister?’ Franky sternly asks, urgently walking across the grass towards us.
‘Where have you been?’
Jake wraps his arms around her, briefly but joyfully lifting her up off the floor.
Her gaze never leaves me, however.
It’s a hard, probing stare.
Is she jealous?
Does she think something is going on between me and Jake?
‘In a place lit so I couldn’t call up the Nyxt to tell them where I was. Gran thought she was leaving me somewhere safe, but someone locked the door as soon as she’d left.’
‘So how did you escape Franky?’
I say it as brightly as I can, hoping Franky realises I’m glad that she’s back.
Her cold stare seems harder, more hateful than ever.
‘It was left open this morning and–’
In midsentence, she launches herself sideways at me.
She’s a blur.
She moves at a speed I would have thought impossible. It’s a leap that defies gravity.
Suddenly, I’m flying up into the air too.
Not because I’ve jumped. But because Franky has lifted me up off my feet as if I’m weightless, throwing me backwards towards the wall lying well over fifteen feet behind me.
I hit the wall high up, the blow knocking the wind out of me, jarring every bone, setting off ever pain sensor.
As I fall to the ground, Franky flies towards me once more.
Despite her unbelievable speed, however, Jake moves faster.
He seems to appear between us from out of nowhere.
‘Franky!’
As she moves or feints one way, he moves with her, blocking her attempts to reach me.
‘What’s going on Franky? Why’re you attacking Twice?’
‘She’s Half-Life Jake! Gran said no one could be trusted, that I had to go somewhere safe for a while.’
They’re sizing each other up, looking for an advantage.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about Franky,’ I scream out.
‘We’ve never detected anything that could say she is Franky!’
Jake’s so busy talking he’s let down his guard.
Franky feints one way, leans back, slips under his arms.
She grabs me by the arms, half spinning around to whirl me up into the air yet again, throwing me with all her remarkable strength towards a row of arrow-tipped railings.
She’s planned the throw so that I land on the points.
But, as if he’s got some kind of superpower, Jake runs, leaps into the air and grasps me around the waist.
We sail over the railings, Jake twisting in mid-flight so that he lands on his feet, still holding me in his arms.
Wahhammmm!
Franky has barged directly into us.
I’m sent flying out of Jake’s arms.
Caught off balance, Jake is sent reeling backwards.
Franky follows after me, running, jumping, grabbing me, this time forcing me to the ground.
She spins me round, brutally taking me by the upper arms, painfully wrenching them up behind me like a disturbed boy twists back the wings of a butterfly.
She twists her arms around mine – and I abruptly realise what she’s going to do.
She’s going to use my own arms to rip my chest apart.
*
Chapter 16
Franky’s grip loosens, like she’s suddenly come to her senses and decided not to kill me after all.
Then her forehead crashes against the back of my skull.
Then were both falling, exhausted and limp, to the ground.
*
‘You okay Twice?’ Jake asks breathlessly, offering his hand to help me up.
Yeah, yeah,’ I answer, grabbing his hand, realising Franky is laid half on top of me, half to my side.
As I get to my feet, Franky completely slips to the floor, lifeless.
‘Franky; is she…’
‘Dead? Afraid so. But if I hadn’t killed her, Twice, she would have killed you.’
As he speaks, he drags Franky’s body into a clump of bushes, glancing about him nervously to make sure no one’s watching.
The back of Franky’s head is caved in, like it’s been hit with a stone or a hammer.
Having seen the way Franky and Jake were leaping around just a moment ago, however, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jake had done it with little more than a sharply jabbed fist.
Jake makes a quick, quiet call on his mobile.
He slips the phone back into his pocket, draws close to me and begins to guide me to his car.
‘Someone will take care of her,’ he says.
I’m shaken. I let myself fall against Jake.
He doesn’t seem to mind. He curls an arm about my waist.
‘Poor Franky.’ Jake shakes his head sadly.
‘Why, Jake? Why was she trying to kill me?’
‘Somehow, she’d got it into her head that you were Half-Life.’
‘I heard her say that; but I don’t see why that would mean she’d have to kill me. I don’t even know what Half-Life is.’
‘As the name implies, it’s someone who’s neither dead nor alive in the normal sense. They can freely move between both worlds, even leave their body here while letting their spirit roam. Both the living and the dead fear someone so powerful
.’
‘Why would Franky think I could do that? I didn’t even know anything about the dead until just a few days ago!’
As he opens the door to the car for me, I turn to him, realising how hard it must have been for him to kill an old friend – perhaps even a girlfriend – for the sake of someone he’d only recently met.
‘Thanks for trusting me, Jake.’
‘No thanks needed.’
He smiles, but grimly. He pulls away from me, runs round the front of the car.
‘I didn’t have any choice, see? Because if Franky was right, killing you should be the very last thing she should be trying to do.’
‘What?’ I snap. ‘You mean you didn’t save me because you think she’s wrong? You really think I might be this weird, dangerous Half-Life thing?’
He shrugs as we both settle into our seats.
‘I don’t think so. I hope not. But if Franky had been right, and she had managed to kill you – well, then you’d know for sure if you’re Half-Life or not.’
‘How would I know that if I’m dead? Even if I’m looking down from the other world, fat lot of good it does me knowing, hey, wow, I was this incredible being with these incredible powers – and hey, come to that, what about you and Franky and all those superpowers? Are you two Half-Life?’
He shakes his head.
We’re now out in the road. He’s driving slowly, like there’s a lot on his mind.
‘That’s just using the Wyrd; if we think you’re right for it, we’ll teach you that later. But getting back to you being dead – think about it. What’s being dead but having to split your body from your spirit, which moves into another realm. But if you’re Half-Life, you can freely roam from one world to the next; there aren’t any barriers. You realise you’re not dead after all – so you realise your Half-Life.’
‘Sure, but even Franky’s gran could come back; so what’s so special about that?’
‘To a cold, clammy decaying body. And with a ridiculous amount of effort. A Half-Life somehow keeps his – or her – body alive, perhaps by using something similar to what the ancient shamans used to call the shadow soul.’
‘Shadow soul? You mean, there’s more than one soul?’
‘Your soul is effectively a vibration in the Life-Force, giving your body substance and shape – think of a whirlpool in water, right? If you can control the energy, you can create a temporary soul, a shadow soul, to briefly replace your real soul. The ancient shamans could only send their souls to explore the spirit world by creating a shadow soul that would keep them alive – but that would be for a couple of days at most.’
Souls. Shadow souls. Life-Force.
It’s all a bit confusing.
And yet I’m supposed to be – could be – this all-powerful Half-Life?
This whole thing just gets weirder by the minute.
*
Normally, you start visiting your gran more regularly the day you realise she won’t be here for ever.
Me, I’m visiting because I now realise she will.
She’ll be around long after she’s dead.
And, who knows, she might decide to cause me a bit of trouble.
Like Franky’s gran, only deliberately so.
It would be far better, wouldn’t it, if I had somebody up there looking out for me?
So, heart in my mouth, I call in on gran’s ‘home’.
There’s a few things I’d like to ask her anyhow; like is there anything she can recall about my life that means I’m going to have the same capabilities as Franky and Jake?
Or am I destined to be someone who lies lower down the scale, simply because I didn’t have any comparable life/death experience earlier in my life?
‘Oh you know gran,’ I say as nonchalantly as I can, ‘there must have been lots of times in my life when you thought, Oh, isn’t Twice something special? You know, like, did I, you know, just sort of die for a few minutes? And when I came back, everyone was really happy!’
Gran grumbles, chews her teeth, like some old, gnarled cowboy chewing tobacco.
‘Ah, so it’s finally dawning on you, is it girl, that there’s something odd about you?’
‘I’ve always known there was something odd about me gran; but what I’m asking is, did I seem to die for a short while, or something like that?’
‘And that’s the sort of question all granddaughters ask their grans is it?’
I shrug.
She chews her gums or her teeth or whatever she’s still got inside there.
‘Me,’ she says, ‘I was put in this place for asking questions like that!’
She indicates the home with a wearily waved hand.
‘Wow gran; so you used to wonder if you’d also died earlier?’
She glares at me scornfully.
‘Not me, silly girl! I was put in here by my own son, just to shut me up!’
‘But what questions gran? What questions were you asking?’
‘I was asking how come you’re still around when you died in that there car accident!’
‘Oh gran, not this again! I didn’t die gran; it was mum and dad who died. They were in the front, and I was safely in the back, where they’d put me to be safe. That’s why I’ve spent all my life being passed from home to home, more or less like you have.’
I reach out for her wizened old hands, intending to tenderly cup them in mine, to show that I understand what she must have gone through all these years.
She pulls her hands back, leaving mine grasping nothing but air.
She had been deeply shaken by the accident, of course. She’s never been right since, refusing to accept what had happened that day.
Even the police doctors had confirmed that she should be institutionalised, for her own safety.
‘And what sort of accident was that, eh?’ she demands harshly. ‘When the traffic was at a crawl? When there’s no real damage to either car? Just a few scrapes on the bumpers. But your mum and dad; they’re all cut up, like it’s been some horrifying crash!’
She realises some of the people around us are staring.
She leans forward conspiratorially.
‘A police sergeant, he came round here, asking me if there was any way to explain their injuries. But they shut him up, see? Shut me up too, their doctors saying I was definitely crazy. But the detective, he’d said there was something even weirder he couldn’t understand.’
‘What couldn’t he understand gran?’
‘Why, the real reason they died of course – by drowning!’
*
Chapter 17
Yep, gran’s mind has completely gone, I’m afraid.
I’m too young to remember what happened in the accident, of course; but all this about traffic being at a crawl?
About mum and dad drowning?
In the centre of town?
Is it just her way of trying to come to terms with something she doesn’t want to accept?
Making things up, so it doesn’t come across as dad’s fault that he was driving too fast or too carelessly?
You know, perhaps Franky’s gran was going through something similar when she told Franky I was this weird Half-Life thing.
Sure, Mary remembers telling Franky’s gran something odd about her own death – but yeah, she can’t remember what that odd thing was! – but she’s hardly going to tell Franky’s gran I’m a Half-Life, is she?
I mean, Mary didn’t even know I existed then!
And if Mary thought I was a Half-Life anyway, why isn’t she trying to kill me like Franky did, or at least warn Jake?
‘Is there something you should be telling me, Twice?’
Jake’s leaning over my reception desk. He’s glaring at me.
‘Erm, well, er, I know I took a longer break than I intended, but I had to visit my gra
n, see, and–’
‘About your boyfriend; this Chris.’
‘He’s no longer holding any more meetings, if that’s what you mean Jake,’ I lie.
‘The Nyxt say otherwise.’
‘That’s what he told me. So if he is, he must be lying.’
(Okay okay; so I feel the lowest of the low for lying like this! But Chris made me promise not to tell!)
Jake’s eyes are locked on mine.
They’re quite amazing eyes; blue, with a burst of white emanating from the darkened pupil, like permanently frozen snowflakes.
At the moment, though, they’re also hard, cold, and sharp. Like he’s trying to see deep inside me, to see if I’m telling the truth or not.
‘You know, Twice, when you came to see me, I put you through for this job through gut instinct rather than anything specific I could read in you. Don’t let me down.’
Okay, this has been nagging me for a long time now, but especially since my gran came out with all those weird ramblings.
I’ve just got to come out and ask him, right?
‘Why Jake? Why did you have this gut instinct that I’d be okay for the job?’
‘The Life-Force – the way it moves around you.’
‘You can see it? You can see this Life-Force you keep on bringing up?’
He nods.
‘I can’t see it all; it’s a massive web of energy, linking everything. But I can see the way it hangs around certain people, a bit like an aura.’
‘Can everyone see it? Everyone here, anyway?’
As soon as I say it, I wish I hadn’t.
I’ve never seen it, have I?
So if everyone here is supposed to be able to see it, perhaps I shouldn’t be here after all.
I almost sigh with relief when Jake shakes his head.
‘It’s not easy to see; I’ve been told you’ve got to see with your soul, not your eyes. Truth is though, I just see it, so I don’t know if that’s what I’m doing or not.’
‘Is that how you can see differences between the Nyxt? The way the Life-Force hangs around them.’
He gives another nod of his head.
‘And so this Half-Life –you’d be able to tell, right, if I really had all this power?’
He grins.
‘Ah, so that’s what all these questions have been leading up to, is it? Thing is, are you saying you want to be Half-Life?’
I shake my head vigorously.
‘Of course not! Who’d want to be so terrifying everyone – including the dead – want to kill you?’
‘Or, rather, not kill you, remember?’
‘Oh yeah, yeah; course.’
I want to ask how a Half-Life can be defeated if you can’t kill them. If you don’t even want to kill them.
But what I really set out to find the answer to, of course, is why Jake thinks I’m right for this job.
‘To answer your question, though,’ Jake continues, ‘no one really knows what we should be looking for to detect a Half-Life. No one who’s ever detected one ever lived to tell us what we should be looking for. If it would reassure you, though, going by what I can see of your Life-Force, I’d say you’re not even close to Franky’s level – so I can’t see why she thought you could be a danger.’