Ghost, Running

by Richard Jenkins

CHAPTER 6

  Once more a ghost. His choice was easily made. The... was moments away, but Ben fled through time and ran through space. The cold, this time, was lost.

  His plan was barely born, his trust in Ceiridwen, the only air it breathed. He would return to The Place and free the others. Together they would find the Heaviest Book.

  With ease, Ben found his way back to the cave - a pocket of space deep beneath the earth so physically far from life, and yet the agonized screams of people seethed through the walls to surround and harry him.

  He took the only route available to him, through a narrow passage cracked into the jagged rock. As he ventured forward, he went deeper into the sound of a hostile crowd. Voice fought voice; shriek pitched against shriek. Plans and pleas to escape, Ben thought, for surely, all must know The Place was a fraud. Finally, the passage twisted to reveal its end. A vast chamber, a hundred metres deep and many more wide, fell to a floor of molten rock. This vast space, however, was shrunk by what it contained, a seemingly endless fog of ghosts. Like a colony of birds squashed onto an island they squawked and snapped at each other with chaotic rage. They saturated the air, their flight, propelled by a manic need for motion so fast, so endless, they often merged to form a faceless blur. Others ghosts, many statue still, filled the cracks and ledges that lined the walls. Disunity ruled. Nearly all the ghosts were adult humans from not so distant times. Many were trapped in a monologue loop, shouting demented, incoherent streams of words. No one listened to anyone else. Others ghosts just sobbed profusely. Ben stood and watched unable to make any sense of what he witnessed. Suddenly, a group of ghosts, ten strong, lunged out of the blur towards him.

  'Is there news?' One of the ten asked Ben, who hesitated, unsure of how much he should reveal.

  'Of what?' he replied.

  'The Place!' the ghost hissed angrily back.

  'Escape!' demanded another.

  Ben hesitated, nervous at how the ghosts would react if he told them the truth.

  'Tell us!' they all demanded as one.

  'I'm just like you,' Ben replied.

  'A prisoner now!' another ghost interrupted.

  'No!! Waiting!!' countered another.

  'A prisoner now!!' cried half the ghosts in the group.

  'No!! Waiting!!' the other half replied.

  'A prisoner now!!'

  'No!! Waiting!!'

  All ten of the ghosts went for each other with flailing hands and feet; however, only managed to propel themselves through and beyond each other.

  With little hope of success, Ben scoured the view for Albert and the others. He knew he could slip back through time to meet them as they entered the cavern, but he wanted to meet them in the present, for surely, by now, they would have realized this was not The Place and would be glad, and willing, to quickly leave.

  About to end his search, he suddenly caught a glimpse of AID - from a recess in the wall, just several metres away, he popped out only to pop back in again. Ben made the jump, to a ledge that lipped the recess. AID was not alone; the small recess, which was three metres deep, also hid Albert, Victoria, The Moof and Wilf. They stood huddled together lodged as far back into the recess as it was possible to go, their backs against the wall as if under siege.

  'I've come back for you!' Ben told them, 'I can get you out of here, but we must go quickly!'

  They looked at him. None showed any great enthusiasm for his presence, which surprised him. Were they not desperate to escape?

  'Go? Where? We're here, aren't we? We're already here,' replied Albert, flatly.

  'Are we?' asked AID, with a hint of cynicism. 'Where we should be? Where we want to be?'

  'This isn't The Place. That man lied!' said Ben. 'It's a trap!

  'Ahh, but the wolf moves in mysterious ways!' said Wilf, his body quivering.

  'You don't actually think this is The Place, do you?' Ben asked.

  'We must wait!' said Albert.

  'For hundreds of years, like others in here?' AID asked him.

  'Yes! Or else what?' Albert replied.

  'Oh. That's that then!' replied AID, as if the issue was finally settled.

  'They test us!' said Wilf. 'We want only the best! The cream, the prime, the silkiest!'

  'I'm in two minds,' said The Moof.

  'Trust me. This isn't The Place! There is no Place!' said Ben.

  'It is, it isn't! It is, it isn't! Toss a coin, take your pick!' said Albert.

  'It isn't!' demanded Ben.

  'And you I trust? I can't trust myself. So why even think? Why struggle to decide? Why not accept everything and anything!'

  'Three minds now,' said The Moof. 'No, four! Pop me! Pop me now. Or I'll burst!'

  'Fear plus time, oh how it can ruin an organic mind. Luckily, I have no such mind. I'm all computer.' said AID to Ben, with a smug satisfaction.

  A female ghost shot out from the faceless fog of ghost and came towards them like a kamikaze plane fixed on a warship, her scream, like the screech of the plane's engines on maximum thrust. All but Albert ducked. He stood and watched. She passed through him then went into the wall behind. Trapped in the rock, now only her scream could escape.

  'Another scream,' said Albert, more to himself than anyone else. 'These walls could break under the weight. And then, what would be revealed?'

  'How long have you been here?' asked Ben, concerned for Albert's sanity.

  'No time to lose my mind!' Albert snapped back at him. 'There is nothing else!'

  'We can fight them!' proclaimed Ben.

  'Fight them?' Albert laughed, contemptuously. 'How?'

  'We need to find a book, the heaviest book that ever was.'

  'Oh, tell me another dream. One more real. Give me a little chance to believe you! We find a book, and then what?'

  'It will lead us to a shield, one of great power, and to other forces, who won't be afraid and will fight!'

  Ben refrained from expressing his belief that the shield was his Dad. He knew they believed such non-cowards were gone forever. Why give Albert, and the others, any more reason to doubt him.

  'And where is this treasure?' Albert asked.

  'I don't know, but if we try, we have hope!'

  'As you are merely a boy, I will not laugh in your face.'

  'No? Then let me laugh in yours! At this madness!'

  'Give me one word of hope.'

  'Others will rise. But we must start it.'

  'Others, always others. Always the horizon that cannot be reached.'

  'It's true!'

  'You can say nothing to me, nothing to stir or inspire me. But that is not your fault for here I am truly dead. Let me go to the faceless mass. To be, not me. To accept, this is all.'

  Albert stepped forward, to the very edge of the ledge, then stopped and turned to look behind.

  'Why fear now?' he asked.

  'You can't! We must fight!' Ben cried.

  But Albert ignored him. He jumped into the fog of ghosts and vanished amongst them.

  'I should be first! I'm the lead coward!' screamed Wilf, as he leapt towards, and then beyond, the ledge. The Moof followed close behind.

  Ben, stunned, turned to AID and Victoria.

  'Just us then,' he said, without conviction.

  'Oh, no. Me, follow a boy? When a man has already spoken,' said AID.

  'Victoria!' Ben pleaded to her while trying to look her directly in the eye; however, her stare was fixed beyond him, and her mouth began to move, to form a stream of silent words.

  'You will trust me, I promise. I will reach you!' he told her.

  'Good luck with that, my computer said, somewhat, it has to be said, sarcastically,' said AID as he stepped towards the ledge.

  'Wait!' Ben called to him. 'Go if you must but first, tell me, please, where and when did Albert die?'

  'Hamburg. October 2nd 1933, on the morning of his birthday. Now, that really was a surprise!'

  'Where exactly?'

  'In reach of Catherine's spire, a
s Michel struck eleven.'

  'What does that mean?'

  'I don't know. But I quote him perfectly.'

  Ben wanted to know more but, seeing AID was about to jump, quickly asked.

  'And Victoria? Who is she? Where? When?'

  He looked at her, in the hope his question would inspire some response, but it did nothing, she remained unreachable.

  'Victoria Yates, born in Ford Heath, died there too in, 1692.'

  'The village by mine?'

  'Correct.'

  'Thank you. Now you, too, can go!' Ben said with a contemptuous bite.

  'Yes, I must.'

  And he did, as did Victoria. They jumped in with the masses.