by Tom Gabbay
"Ula... I mean, it's nice, but... We're just housemates, right? Nothing more. You don't have to look after me."
"Yes, well. There are things that you don't understand. Things that I need to explain to you."
"What things?"
Ula gave her a reproachful look. "You didn’t go for a walk, did you?"
"Yes, like I said -- "
"No, Mia!" She paused. "You didn't. You met that friend of yours at the pub and you've been sitting there, drinking and laughing the entire time you've been gone. That's what you did."
"Ula..."
"Please don’t try to deny it because I'm afraid that will just make me angry again and..." She took a deep breath in an attempt to tamp down her rising emotions. "It's very important that we discuss these issues in a calm, reasonable manner, no matter how upsetting they may be."
"I really don't know what you're talking about," Mia said, feeling increasingly agitated. "But you need to tell me how you know that I met up with Kat."
Ula produced a nervous smile. "At least you admit it now. That's an improvement."
"Have you been following me?"
"No." She shook her head. "At least, not like you mean it."
"Then how? How did you know what I was doing?"
"Because..." Ula tried to speak in a soft, soothing voice, but the words were coming out strained, full of all her suppressed anxiety. "You see... It might sound strange, but... well, we're together now. Wherever you go and whatever you do, you carry me with you. And from this moment on, I will always be with you. Looking out for you."
Mia stared at Ula in disbelief. Kat had been right all along. She was insane. Completely and utterly stark raving mad.
"No," Ula said. "I'm not mad."
"I didn't say -- "
"You didn't have to. You see..." Her smile disappeared and she became deadly serious. "I know everything about you. Even what you're thinking."
"This is crazy..." Mia whispered.
"I know, it must be confusing for you. But I can explain. If we could just sit down together... I'll make us a nice cup of tea and we can have a chat..." She moved to the counter, grabbed the kettle and started to fill it with tap water. "What would you like? I'm having normal, but I can make jasmine for you."
"Listen, Ula, thanks but I..." Mia eased toward the door. "I think I'll just go on up to bed. Maybe we can talk in the morning."
"No, wait!"
But Mia was already out the door. Ula followed into the hallway, calling out from the bottom of the stairs as Mia climbed the steps. "Please, Mia, come back! You mustn't be alone tonight!"
"I really have no idea what you're talking about, Ula, but you're making me extremely uncomfortable!"
"I'm sorry!" Ula limped up the stairway, taking the steps one-by-one as quickly as she could. "I don't mean to upset you but it's very important that I explain the situation to you!"
Mia tried to close the door, but Ula caught up at the last moment and blocked it with her cane. "Let me in," she said as they eyed each other through the gap. "I can explain everything."
"Were you in my room last night?"
"What...?"
"Were you watching me while I slept?"
"That's irrelevant... I'm trying to explain to you -- "
"Why would you do that?"
"I... I'm trying to help you, Mia."
"I don't want your help. Please go away."
Ula sighed in frustration. "If you would just give me a chance..."
Without warning, she surged forward, using all her pent up energy to shove Mia out of the way. Quickly slipping into the room, she turned the key in the door, removed it, and gripped it tightly in her fist.
"What are you doing!" Mia cried out.
"Please stay calm and listen carefully to what I'm going to tell you."
"Open the door!"
"If you'll just listen to me, I will."
"Open it now!"
"Please try to focus, Mia. It's important that you understand the situation."
"Why are you doing this?!"
"I'm trying to keep you safe."
"Safe?"
"Yes."
"Safe from what!"
Ula closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Something is supposed to happen tonight. Something horrible. But if we stay here, together, locked in this room, we can prevent it. We can change the course of events."
"You're not making any sense!" Mia was close to tears now. "None of this makes sense!"
A sudden sad melancholy came over Ula. She tilted her head to the side and took a step forward. "Mia... Poor Mia. You have no idea, do you?"
"You're scaring me, Ula. Please stop it."
"It's so difficult... So hard to say it..."
"Just go away... please!"
But Ula wasn't listening. She was deep in thought, trying to formulate a way to tell Mia that she was already dead. That she had been brutally murdered four months earlier and if she was allowed to go out onto the street, someone would be waiting for her and it would happen all over again.
"Do you know those strange feelings that you’ve been having?" she finally said. "That sense that somebody is watching you? It's always the same, isn't it? When you look around, no one is there."
"Is it some kind of mind trick, like when you knew what number I was thinking of?"
"No, it's not a trick. Not really."
"Then how?"
"Do you remember the dream you had last night? What is that song your mother sings to you? The one about the roses and the angels."
"How are you doing this?!!"
"You see, it's me that you've been sensing. I'm the one who's been watching you, but not from the outside. I’m inside you, Mia. Inside your thoughts... Your memory, to be precise. That’s where I am right now. In your memory. That's where we both are."
Mia took a step back and puts her hands up, as if to ward off what was to come. Ula took an equal step forward.
"I think that deep down, you know the truth."
"No..."
"But it doesn't have to happen the way it did before!" Ula was feverish now, overflowing with passion. "Don’t you see? You’re living through me! I'm hosting your memory and I’ve learned how to change the way things happen!"
"No, Ula, please stop!"
"It's all right!" she said. "This time can be different! This time you don't have to die!"
A sudden FLASH of light and a CLAP of thunder distracted Ula long enough for Mia to grab the lamp off the bedside table. She yanked it out of the wall and swung it around in one movement, striking Ula's temple with the metal base. As she fell to the floor, unconscious, the room key fell out of her hand.
Mia didn't hesitate, or stop to see what damage she'd done. She unlocked the door, flew down the stairs and out the door. Onto the street.
33.
"Shit!"
As she reached for her phone Mia realised that it was in her jacket, which was hanging on the hall rack. Her wallet and her keys were in the same pocket.
Standing in front of the house -- breathless, trying not to panic -- the rain came. A few drops at first, then a sudden downpour, bombarding the pavement with a barrage of tiny explosions and drenching Mia in a virtual torrent of water. Get to The Castle, she thought. Someone there will lend her a phone so she can call Kat.
The park was dark and ominous, but it was the quickest route. Following the tree-lined walkway, lit by a few dim street lamps, Mia walked briskly at first, mind racing, then broke into a nervous run, splashing through muddy puddles that were forming in every dip along the path.
Ula had scared the shit out of her. She'd clearly gone off the deep end, but it was even weirder than that. Okay, she could've easily followed her to the pub and seen her drinking with Kat, but how about the other stuff? Ula seemed to know everything that she'd been thinking and feeling. She'd even invaded her dreams! Maybe it was just clever guesswork or some kind of crazy mind manipulation, like magicians do. But then again...
; There was something deep down, in the far reaches of Mia's psyche, that frightened her to the core of her being. What if it wasn't a trick, she thought. What if, in some inexplicable way, Ula was telling the truth and this was all some nightmarish dream that she couldn't wake up from? Things hadn't felt right for some time. Not since arriving at the house on Highbury Crescent, two weeks earlier. And there were the blank spots -- moments, hours, and even days that simply didn't exist, at least not that she could recall, no matter how hard she tried. Even now, running through the darkened park in the rain, there was that persistent feeling of deja vu. Ula's words echoed in her mind.
"This time you don't have to die."
The storm ended as abruptly as it began, leaving behind a heavy mist that hung in the air like a silky veil, softening the line between earth and sky and melting the distant city lights into halos of formless colour. Veering off to take a shortcut through the playground, Mia slipped on a patch of wet leaves and hit the ground hard, knocking the air out of her lungs. As she lay there on her back, struggling to draw a breath, something caught her eye. A sudden movement. A sound.
Rolling onto her stomach and pushing herself off the ground, she knelt on the wet grass and surveyed the surrounding darkness. A small animal perhaps? Or a tree branch swaying in the wind? Why had she come through the park? How could she have been so stupid!
Suddenly, she was walking. Wide awake, alert, constantly checking over her shoulder, aware of every movement and every vibration in the air. A dog barked, a distant siren wailed, and she noticed the sound of heavy breathing. It was near. Was it her own?
Another movement, a fleeting glimpse of a figure in a hooded jacket, and he was suddenly upon her. The echo of a scream, the flash of a long blade, and then the blood. So much blood.
The end came quickly for Mia. There was no pain this time, and no tears, as there had been the first time. She lay on the ground, perfectly still and quiet, peacefully thinking her final thoughts as the world got darker and darker, and finally disappeared, leaving only the void. The last byte in Mia's memory file contained the comforting sound of her mother's voice.
"Roses love sunshine, violets love dew
Angels in heaven know I love you.
Know I love you, dear, know I love you
Angels in heaven, know I love you..."
34.
Experiencing Mia's murder delivered a crushing blow to Ula's spirit. Upon emerging from the memory she frantically paced the house, wandering from room to room, unable to organise her movements, let alone her thoughts. The images that filled her head were vague and elusive, as the memories always were, but they were vivid enough to upset the delicate balance that had long existed in her psyche, a symmetry that, up until now, had allowed her to function as a rational human being.
Most elusive was the face. Like a distant star that disappears when you attempt to look directly into its light, the killer's features vanished into darkness when Ula tried to summon the image. Perhaps Mia never knew the identity of her attacker. Or perhaps her mind's final act was to block the traumatic details from being copied to her memory. In the end, it didn't matter. Whatever the reason, the killer was no less anonymous now than he had been before all her efforts. But that wasn't the source of Ula's distress. Her anguish came from the knowledge that she had failed to protect Mia from having to experience her death a second time. In fact, it was worse than that. Not only had she been unable to change the outcome, her own actions had effectively pushed Mia into the arms of her assassin.
With these disturbing thoughts bouncing around in her head, Ula felt the need to escape the confines of four walls and soon found herself walking in the park, heading toward the site where Mia had taken her last breath.
The western sky was flush with pink and gold, the air brisk with a winter freeze as she approached the spot, which showed no sign of what had occurred four months earlier. The flowers, sympathy cards, and silver balloons that had covered the area in the days following the event had quickly dwindled down to a few bouquets from distant friends and family, then finally disappeared altogether, leaving nothing but the long shadows, cast by now barren trees.
Something about being there, standing over the earth that had absorbed Mia's life blood, inspired a sense of calm in Ula. There was a connection between them, a link so strong that even death couldn't weaken it. She stared into the hard ground and thought about the first time she'd stood there, on that terrible September morning. It was just before dawn, as the day's first light was breaking, that the doorbell rang.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," the woman had said, flashing a police badge. "I'm Detective Inspector Sarah Boyd. May I ask who I'm speaking with?"
"My name?"
"Yes, your name."
"Ula... Ula Mishkin."
"I apologise again for disturbing you, Ms. Mishkin, but we've had a major incident in the area and we're making enquiries throughout the neighbourhood. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions."
"What kind of incident?" Ula asked sleepily.
"We're attempting to identify the victim of a serious crime. I see that this property is a single family dwelling. May I ask how many individuals occupy the premises?"
Ula noticed the flashing blue lights of several police cars on the opposite side of the park. "Just me," she said. "And my housemate. But she's not here right now."
"Do you know her current whereabouts?"
"No, I... I was asleep and... Her room is empty but I don't know where she is."
"I see. Well, there's probably no reason for concern, but can you describe your housemate for me?"
"Yes, she's... she's American," Ula said haltingly. "From the south. Her name is Mia. Mia Fraser. Has something happened to her?"
"Do you know Ms. Fraser's age?" Boyd asked.
"Nineteen, I think. She's a student. She rents a room from me."
"I understand. And are you aware of any distinguishing characteristics on your housemate?"
"Distinguishing characteristics?"
"Such as a scar or a tattoo?"
"She has a tattoo. On her ankle. A small red rose." Ula could see the detective's demeanour change as soon as she said it.
"I see." She paused. "Ms. Mishkin, I'm sorry to inform you that there's a very good chance that your housemate has been the victim of a very serious attack. I'm going to ask you to get dressed and accompany me to the scene of the crime."
"The scene of the crime?"
"Yes. I'd like you to verify the victim's identity."
The detective didn't offer any more information and Ula didn't ask questions as they crossed the park to the site, which had been cordoned off with police crime tape. When she was ready, Detective Boyd nodded and a man in a white jumpsuit and purple gloves stepped forward to pull the heavy plastic sheet back, only far enough to reveal Mia's face. She looked at peace, Ula thought, as if in the midst of some pleasant dream.
"Ms. Mishkin," Boyd said after a moment.
"Yes?"
"Are you able to identify the victim as your housemate, Mia Fraser?"
Ula remembered her legs going weak and her mouth feeling numb as she whispered, "Yes... Yes, that's Mia."
Walking back across the park in the last light of the day, Ula felt more clear-headed, able to think again. Her failure to alter the past had been traumatic and depressing and painful, but it wasn't absolute. If she'd learned anything from her explorations into Mia's mind, it was that memory provided a flexible interpretation of the past. But it was now equally clear that manipulating those memories into a desired outcome would not be a simple task. In the way the subconscious makes its own rules and creates its own narrative in a dream, it was Ula's subconscious that was diverting Mia's memory. She was able to change events, but not necessarily in the way her conscious mind intended. At least, not yet.
Unlocking the front door, she entered the hallway and climbed the staircase to the first floor landing. Perhaps she'd failed this time, she thought, but there was no li
mit to the number of visits she could make to the memory. Now that the cache that contained that night had been located, she could target it as many times as required, reshaping events over and over until she reached a satisfactory outcome.
But she was spent. With a few hours sleep she could return to the E.I.R. and start over, fresh. Feeling a renewed sense of optimism, Ula quickly undressed, slipped into bed, and lay on her back waiting for sleep to come. However long it took, she would never allow Mia's memory to die.
35.
Boyd leaned back in her chair and re-read Nichols' text for the umpteenth time. "thanks again for the coffee and let me know if I can do anything." It didn't really require a response, but it seemed rude to ignore it. A simple "thanks, I'll do that" would suffice, but a perfunctory reply like that would surely put an end to the communication, and Boyd wasn't quite sure she was ready to do that. She needed something that wouldn't shut him down entirely, but wouldn't seem overly eager, either.
Shaking her head at her own indecisiveness, Boyd set the phone aside and went back to the Fraser file, which she was reviewing from front to back, hoping to pick up something she'd previously missed. It was, no doubt, a pointless exercise -- she'd been through it all at least a half dozen times before -- but the Peter Greene fiasco had renewed her determination to find some angle that she could pursue.
"Cuppa?"
Leonard appeared at the door in his pyjamas and dressing gown, two mugs of tea in hand.
"I thought you were in bed hours ago," Boyd said, checking her watch to see that it was half past midnight.
"Couldn't sleep..." Leonard handed her one of the mugs and eased into the old armchair Boyd had placed beside the desk to accommodate her father's visits. "And it looks like the same goes for you."
"Just going over an old case," Boyd replied, gesturing toward the file. "What's your excuse?"
"Age, love. Old age." He smiled and took a sip of tea. "Old bladder, to be specific."
"Well, cheers." Boyd saluted her father with the tea. "Nice to have the company."
Leonard nodded, then sat back and shook his head. "Funny about that Paris business," he mused. "I reckon if you hadn't got home when you did, I'd be wandering around the Champs Elysées right now, wondering where your mum had got to."