by Seth Patrick
Rierson raised his eyebrows. ‘We haven’t exactly done a mortician’s job,’ he said, his fingers in the flesh of Harker’s neck. ‘Free of larvae, best we can do.’
They both fell silent as Rierson finished up. Johnson stood back, then noticed something on the corpse’s skin. The blackening increased down the lower part of the leg, becoming severe around the foot, but there was a definite mark just above the ankle. He stepped over and looked.
‘What do you think that is?’ he asked, indicating the mark, less than a centimetre across.
‘Tattoo,’ Rierson said without looking up. ‘Noticed it earlier. Hadn’t been mentioned by the daughter, but she may not have been aware of it.’
‘What is it?’ said Johnson. ‘I can’t make it out.’ The black lines of the tattoo were difficult to see against the blackened and sloughing skin.
‘I couldn’t either, but we already had the shoulder tattoo so it was just a quick look.’
Johnson peered at the mark. At last, he could see what it was. A tiny tattoo of a robin.
* * *
By the time Bob Crenner arrived back at the FRS with Annabel Harker, a local victim liaison officer had been arranged and was waiting. Crenner left Annabel in the officer’s care, sitting in the observation room with the curtains drawn. He went into the pathology room to brief those involved.
‘Boss,’ said Ray Johnson, with a nod.
Peter Rierson was at the side, labelling the samples he had taken. Also present were the FRS contingent: Hugo Adler, Never Geary and Pru Dryden. Dryden would be the reviver, something that had disappointed Crenner when he’d first called, but he trusted these people.
‘Here’s what we know,’ Crenner said. ‘Daniel Harker was reported missing sixteen days ago. The last verified contact was ten days earlier. Initially it was thought that money was the most likely motive, but there was always a chance that he had been taken by an Afterlifer or similar group. The detectives involved played this down with the daughter and kept the story quiet. Daniel was found this morning, possibly abandoned. He may have died of thirst.
‘His car was caught on security camera in Greensboro, North Carolina, an unknown male using his card to withdraw money. Same card was used a few days later in Atlanta. His car has not been found yet, but it now seems likely that the withdrawals were intended to mislead us. They wanted us to think they’d gone halfway across the country. Instead, Daniel Harker was only a two-hour drive from his home. It’s possible the kidnapping was over money, but if it was we’re looking at incompetents. If it was idealism, then his death must be a statement. But neither feels right.’ Crenner started to walk around the corpse, taking slow steps as he spoke. ‘If they wanted him revived, maybe to deliver a memorized message, then the length of time before Harker was found makes no sense. Maybe they fucked up. This morning, his daughter found evidence that Daniel had been working on a story involving Afterlifers. He disappeared days after his contact failed to show at an agreed meeting. If this is relevant – if they took him because of something he had been told – then why did they let him die this way? If he’d known something, why did they risk him being revived, and not kill him and decapitate the body? So far, we have nothing from the house where he was found. Remains of several fires in the backyard. Plenty of fingerprints, but nothing matched so far. Description of one man the owner met, with not a single unusual feature. No information on any vehicles. We have ten detectives working on this and getting nowhere, and time running out before the story leaks. We need the revival. If it works, our priority is to get the circumstances of his kidnapping, descriptions of his kidnappers and to fill in the blanks on what Harker had found, if anything. Hugo?’
Hugo Adler raised an eyebrow. ‘Detective. Pru will get him back, if it can be done.’ He looked Pru’s way and got a scared smile in return, then he addressed her. ‘Pru, Detectives Crenner and Johnson will be sitting with me and Never in the tech room. Annabel Harker is anxious to speak with her father. The chances are slim, but you should talk to her now while we bring Harker into the revival room and finish prep.’
Pru Dryden nodded. Bob Crenner watched her leave, then found himself looking at the corpse. Dryden was preparing for the challenge of reviving this body. Crenner was scared for her.
* * *
Pru collapsed eighty-six minutes after starting the revival. From the technician’s room, Never had been watching closely. Daniel Harker’s naked body on the padded table in the revival room, black and green and distorted; Pru’s face, eyes closed most of the time, brow creased, brief flickerings of emotion.
He had been worried since the beginning. Pru had looked far too wary for his liking, the combination of pressure of the high-profile case and the innate difficulty of the revival facing her. He had used one camera to get a tight shot of Pru and could see the effort build, her discomfort growing. He was the first in the room when it went wrong, moving for the door a moment before anyone else had even seen it happening, Daniel Harker’s hand slipping out of Pru’s. She slouched over in her chair, falling to the floor just before Never reached her, blood from a cut lip leaving a smear on the white tiling when he turned her over.
Hugo was close on his heels. They helped her through to one of the overnight beds in the bunk room down the hall.
Crenner came with them. ‘She OK?’ he asked.
‘She’ll be fine,’ said Hugo. ‘Call upstairs, Never. See who can sit with her.’
Pru sat up as Never picked up the phone. ‘Shit. Sorry. The pull was tough, couldn’t handle it.’
‘You did well to get that close,’ said Hugo.
‘Stacy’s coming down,’ said Never.
Crenner looked worried. ‘What about Harker? Can she try again?’
Hugo looked at Pru. She shook her head, and he nodded. ‘You stay here until Stacy says you’re fine, Pru. Then get yourself home and rest.’
When Stacy arrived, Never, Hugo and Crenner headed down the corridor, back into the technician’s room.
‘We knew it would be difficult,’ said Hugo.
Crenner swore. ‘We need the revival. You told me that you—’
‘I know what I said.’ Hugo turned away from Crenner’s gaze. He looked down at the floor. ‘Give us a moment, Detective.’
Crenner nodded, then stepped out into the corridor.
Hugo turned to Never. ‘I didn’t think it would come down to this,’ he said. ‘I thought Pru would do it, or get nowhere. But she got close. That means it can be done, and we’re running out of time.’
‘What did you tell Crenner?’ asked Never, his eyes narrowing.
Hugo sighed. ‘When he called, he asked about Jonah first. I told him Jonah was our backup, that with Stacy and Jason both on tails until tomorrow, it left us with Pru and Jonah as the only ones capable of Harker’s revival. I told him I didn’t want Jonah doing it, unless…’
‘Unless we had no option,’ Never said.
Hugo nodded. ‘The clock’s ticking. We have to start the second attempt within ninety minutes. Jonah was due back at work tomorrow. He was given the all-clear.’
‘I doubt this was the kind of case they had in mind for his return, Hugo.’
‘But what do you think?’
‘I think…’ said Never, then he gave it some serious thought. ‘I think if Sam was here, he wouldn’t ask Jonah to do it.’ Hugo said nothing, but in his eyes Never could see he thought so too. ‘I also think, if we don’t tell Jonah about it, he’ll not forgive us.’
* * *
When Jonah’s phone rang he was in the kitchen, wearing his overnight boxers and tee shirt, making a cup of coffee while he ate a slice of toast. He let the answering machine take the call, but picked up when he heard Never’s voice.
‘Hey, Never.’ He could hear voices in the background. ‘Are you at work?’
‘Yes, I’m at work,’ said Never, with a reluctance that Jonah noticed at once.
‘What is it?’
‘You’ve heard of Daniel Harker?�
�
‘Of course.’
‘He went missing a few weeks ago.’
‘I hadn’t heard.’
‘It was kept quiet.’
Although Never seemed unwilling to get to the point, Jonah knew the punchline. He knew the question Never had called to ask. The minimum time Stephanie Graves had insisted on before he could work again had passed, but he knew they’d only be coming to him if they had no other option. And that meant a hard case.
Jonah took a deep breath. ‘How long’s he been dead?’
‘Quite a while. He’s in a bad way. Even Pru didn’t get there. But she wasn’t far off.’
‘She OK?’
‘Shaken up. Worst I’ve seen her.’
Jonah was silent. He didn’t relish facing what she’d faced. ‘Why do we need a revival, Never? What does this look like?’
‘Looks like murder.’
Jonah thought for a moment. ‘Let’s see what he has to say.’
He hung up the phone and started to dress.
* * *
Jonah arrived thirty minutes later. The prospect of reviving a severely decayed subject would normally leave him sick with fear, but the moment Never had called to say he was needed, things had crystallized in his mind. Whatever his doubts about his future, here was something he couldn’t say no to. Harker had been crucial in revival becoming acceptable. Every reviver owed the man a debt.
He took the stairs down the two flights to the revival floor, heading straight to the technician’s room to see Never. The door to the observation room lay open at the end of the hall. Inside, he could see Hugo Adler in discussion with several others. A few feet from them sat a young woman. She looked exhausted.
He walked into the tech room.
‘Hi, mate,’ said Never. ‘Am I in your bad books?’
Jonah smiled at him. ‘No. None of us has a choice here. How’s Pru?’
‘She’s getting her head down in the bunk room.’
Jonah nodded. ‘I’ll take my meds and get briefed. We can start in ten. Everything’s still set, right?’
‘We dropped the room temperature after Pru’s try. I’ll warm it a little. Apart from that, all set.’
Jonah nodded to the feed from the observation room. ‘Who’ll be watching?’
As he named them, Never pointed them out on the screen: ‘Bob Crenner and Ray Johnson. Can’t seem to get rid of ’em. They’ll be sitting in with me during the revival. That’s Peter Rierson, the pathologist. And that is Daniel Harker’s daughter.’
Jonah shook his head. ‘Hell of a sight for her to deal with. Is she here to…?’
‘Yes.’
Jonah looked at her. Even if he’d been in doubt before, he wasn’t now. She looked shattered, and wanted to speak to her father one last time. Perhaps when his work was faceless, anonymous, then Jonah could pretend to himself that he had a real choice, that his fear of the process was enough to drive him from it. But when it was tied to real people, he couldn’t conceive of walking away. Tess had been right to say he was idealistic. For all the good it did him.
* * *
Jonah knocked on the door to the bunk room, and Stacy opened it.
‘She awake?’ he asked. Stacy nodded. Jonah followed her inside, shocked to see how grey Pru Dryden’s face looked. It had really hit hard. Pru was small, but Jonah knew she could take care of herself. She’d had a daughter with a long-term boyfriend who had started to knock Pru around. She’d given as good as she got, ousting the boyfriend, which left her on her own with a two-year-old to raise and a full-time job. Right now, though, she looked impossibly fragile.
‘Any tips?’ he asked.
‘Thought you were off work,’ Pru said.
‘I am.’
‘This is a bad choice of vacation.’ The smile she’d been attempting faded. ‘The pull was strong and fast. Caught me by surprise. If that helps.’
He nodded. She’d nearly made it, but the ride got too rough. ‘Thanks.’
Jonah grabbed a drink from the water cooler in the corner. He’d already been up to his desk to grab his medication. It was bespoke, formulated individually for each reviver; replacement supplies at his new dosage would arrive within a few more days, but as Graves had increased his BPV by 50 per cent, all he had to do was take an extra half pill.
Stacy and Pru wished him luck. He tried to ignore the worry he could see in their eyes.
* * *
Jonah walked to the observation room, with one last task before the revival could begin. He crossed to Annabel Harker and crouched down.
‘Miss Harker…’
‘Annabel, please.’
‘My name is Jonah Miller. I’m going to be making the second attempt at reviving your father. I take it the other reviver discussed the attendance situation with you?’
‘She did. Is she all right?’
‘She will be. Can I confirm that you want to talk with your father?’
‘I do.’
‘You have to realize that the chances are slim. Even if I get him back, it’s not guaranteed that you’ll have any time with him. If I give the go-ahead, you’ll be escorted to the revival room. You can tell me what to say. It’ll be a non-vocal revival; during questioning you’ll see your father’s replies on that screen, as I type them. If you get to talk to him, though, I’ll simply repeat what he says. Do you understand?’
‘I do.’
Jonah nodded and started to get up. Annabel put her hand out, on his wrist. He flinched, just a little, but there was no chill. ‘Jonah,’ said Annabel. ‘Please. Try.’
‘I will. If it looks like there won’t be time, I’ll give him a message from you. If you want.’
Tears fell from Annabel Harker’s eyes. ‘Tell him I’m sorry.’
* * *
‘It’s freezing,’ complained Ray Johnson, folding his arms.
‘The temperature’s kept right down while we’re not active,’ said Never. ‘We raise it a little for revival, but that’ll take a few minutes.’
‘I guess it keeps the meat fresher.’
Jonah glanced up at the lights on the wall opposite indicating the active audio feeds. There was a red light for the observation room, and he relaxed. ‘Just so you know,’ he said. ‘That red light means the subject’s daughter didn’t hear your comment.’
Johnson raised his hands. ‘Sorry.’
‘If we can get started?’ said Jonah. The others turned to him. ‘OK, I’ve read the preliminary report. We just need the formal nod to get under way and I can get briefed. No objections to starting? Dr Rierson?’
‘No.’
‘Detective Crenner?’
‘Let’s get on with it. Good luck.’
‘I’ll do my best. With a second attempt at revival it’s hard to know the chances, but Pru got close. If it does happen, someone this far gone can be hard to judge. They can go in a flash. Now, take your seats and get comfortable. This may take some time.’
* * *
Alone, Jonah sat in the chair and adjusted it until it felt right. The curtain on the observation room window had been drawn back, but the audio feed was still off. He limbered up his left hand, his fingers stiff in the cold air, and set them on the keypad. His shorthand was solid. All the revivers who handled non-vocal cases had regular training to keep up their skills – repeating aloud everything that was said was a clumsy way to go about an interview. He typed a few phrases to make sure the pad was in working order, the words being displayed in full on a screen above. An earpiece rested by the keypad, and he put it in place.
‘Testing, testing,’ said Never’s voice.
Jonah raised his thumb. ‘All fine. I’m ready.’
He suddenly didn’t feel ready. He looked again at Harker, the enormity of the task ahead of him impossible to ignore. It was written in the state of the corpse: in the distortion and swelling; in the black veins and the shedding skin. Could he ever feel ready for something like this?
He reached out. Daniel Harker’s hand felt de
eply cold in his own, the flesh rubbery. Unlike the rest of the body, the hand had been cleaned for optimal contact. Jonah ran his eyes down the length of the rotting corpse before him. He looked up, and checked that the Obs feed light was still red. Only Never could hear him. ‘I met him once,’ he said.
‘Yes?’ said Never.
‘He interviewed me a few months after I joined Baseline. Asked me about the crash, when my mom died. I hadn’t spoken to anyone else about it in so much detail. It was cathartic. The next day I called him and asked him not to use it. He agreed without a grumble. Seemed like a decent guy.’ He took a deep breath. The cold air kept the smell of decay to a minimum. ‘Start recording.’
The bank of lights on the far wall turned to green one at a time.
‘Revival of subject Daniel Harker, nonvocal,’ he said. ‘J. P. Miller, duty reviver.’
17
Daniel Harker’s hand rested in Jonah’s, the skin of the dead fingers shedding, just as it was all over the blackened and bloating torso. The abdomen greenish, thickly veined. The face puffy and distorted, the eyes swollen.
Jonah closed his own eyes and allowed his mind to flow over the corpse, touching the sheets of loose skin, tasting the rank salt of the wounds around Daniel’s wrist and the pitted gouges in his neck where the maggots had fed, feeling the gelatinous rubber of his abdominal flesh.
Minutes passed this way, until he felt it was time to sink deeper, losing himself to the darkness within Harker’s corpse. He felt his own flesh degrade as he went. Slowly, his intestines began to dissolve in a rich bacterial sea. His eyeballs started to contract as they lost moisture. He sensed his hair begin to lose grip and shed. Rigor mortis built in his limbs, peaked and faded as the muscle proteins broke down.
In the dark, in the silence, time passed. Jonah felt more dead than he could ever be. His mouth – God, so dry, so dry – began to moisten once more with the products of decomposition.
And then his flesh twitched, stirred around his neck as maggots hatched and began to embed themselves, burrowing deep and feeding, forming a writhing mass, growing, drowning him –