A Well-Timed Death (Booker Shield Book 1)

by Karl Bourdiec

  ‘He’s just screening my calls, I will not leave a voicemail. My phone charges for that.’ Booker stood straight, put his hands in his pockets and left Rob to enter the morgue. Rob waited for a second for Booker to be out of sight. Pulling his hand into his sleeve he made circular movements were Booker had laid his elbow, buffing out the little mark he’d left. It lifted easily without too much rubbing of his work shirt.

  The swoosh came again.

  12

  There was screaming, a woman’s scream, lots of screaming, maybe two women, it sounded like two women screaming.

  Booker wasn’t acclimatized to hearing two women scream so couldn’t really say with one hundred percent knowledge that it was, in fact, two women screaming. But at a guess, he’d say that was what it was.

  One of them was probably Hollie, it sounded like it was Hollie. When multiple people scream, it was very difficult to work out who was screaming, and last time Booker ran towards a screaming woman she was holding her chest and bleeding out of it.

  This was just before Booker vomited while some kid did an impromptu photo shoot with him.

  ‘That’s Hollie.’ Rob said to Booker, least Booker was right about it being Hollie. There was some hesitation before they sped up, mostly from Booker.

  Booker didn’t know much about the Doppler effect, but he did know when a woman was screaming and running towards him.

  It was Hollie, she had stopped screaming so much, but her eyes were red and puffy, and her skin was as pale as a sheet.

  ‘Booker, Thank God.’ She said with a gentle run up to him. Her hair was a mess, small bits of it were standing up.

  ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ Booker said.

  ‘That’s not funny. Follow me.’ There were no cat and mouse games like normal she just led the two of them through the corridors of the morgue.

  Hollie limped on her left leg, she’d obviously hurt herself when running, there was a rip in her tights on the same leg.

  A trickle of blood came from the cut but had been mostly mopped up by the tights, which now stuck to her calf because of the graze, she could feel it pulling at her skin as she walked, almost dragging her left leg as if she was a zombie, today had already been filled with one zombie. One zombie was enough for today, Booker didn’t want an epidemic on his hands.

  ‘Done something to your leg Hol?’ Booker asked Hollie hated having her name shortened, it annoyed her, a good thing for Booker, being when Hollie was annoyed she was more honest than the rest of the time.

  ‘I hit it on a draw running out of Martins room.’ Explained Hollie.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Rob asked being he was the one with the emotional spectrum to ask things.

  ‘To be honest Rob, I’ve been better.’ She looked at him, Hollie tried to pull a smile from the pit of her gut but even that well was dry. Instead, she put on a face of muscle spasms, the smile somebody pulls when you step on their toe and they don’t believe your apology. A face Booker had seen way too many times, he just presumed that was Hollie’s actual smile.

  ‘She likes you.’ Booker nudged Rob. Who lost his footing a little, once he’d straightened up Rob rubbed his arm where he’d been elbowed.

  ‘I don’t think she does. I’m not saying she dislikes me, I just don’t think she even cares who I am.’ Rob pulled a face, not one of confusion like you’d expect but one which sort of said “if that’s the face you think people make when they like you, what kind of person are you?” which is a very difficult thing to portray in a face, Booker missed it.

  At the stretch of corridor, the trio came to the shined chrome door. Hollie went for the handle but was stopped, not by some internal force, but by Booker grabbing her by the wrist. Although if Booker had failed to stop her the internal force probably would have done its job sooner or later.

  ‘We’ll go in.’ Said Booker, turning Hollie to face him.

  ‘Booker I don’t think you understand what I saw.’ Hollies eyes had grown to almost fill her head, they were glistening the light which strobed above them.

  ‘I’ve already seen some weird shit today.’ Booker replied in the most macho way he could.

  ‘So have I.’ Rob chimed in.

  ‘So has he.’ Booker let Hollie's hand drop to her side.

  ‘Where is Martin?’ Booker asked as his hand touched the handle.

  ‘He ran out screaming like a little girl when the draw started knocking and screaming.’

  ‘Which draw?’ Bookers mind was moving fast now.

  ‘The one with the fridge magnet on.’

  ‘You’re fucking kidding me.’ Booker knew what was screaming.

  The door swung open, the morgue seemed cold and dead, just how it should be.

  ‘What now?’ Rob asked.

  ‘Once more into the breach.’ Booker answered.

  ‘Well the first time for you, once more for me’

  There was a mist in the room, a kind of fog. Not a real fog more a feeling that the air was electric and thick like a sponge, it felt like a very spicy soup to Booker's skin.

  As Rob stepped in, all his hairs on his body stood up, as if they were trying to escape their fate, a fate they obviously knew more about than Rob did.

  A small magnet sat on a draw, a draw which was dead silent and closed. There was a clatter of metal, Booker turned to see Rob had closed the draw Hollie had hurt her leg on.

  ‘Just in case.’ He answered the question which was never spoken. Booker turned back to the draw, he seemed to be moving slowly, as if walking through a tar pit. He plodded to the draw and put his hand on the handle. The other hand pulled away the small piece of paper Mary had stuck to it.

  ‘This isn’t one of your jokes again is it.’ Rob asked catching up.

  ‘Fuck me, I wish.’ Booker said letting go of the A4 paper he held in his left hand, caught by the air conditioning it spun and turned as if dragged by the wind.

  The grind of the draw made a thunderous noise.

  ‘I’m wet.’ A young woman screamed, she flared her arms uncontrollably and tried to right herself.

  The sheet which Booker had dropped finally spun to a landing on the floor, it was held by a small amount of water it soaked up smudging the ink which was printed onto it before the water reached too far a faint name could be read. “Sara Brixton. F.”

  The girl was Sara Brixton. She knew she was twenty-six and she knew she was married. She remembered darkness and water, getting wet. She also could recall her eleventh birthday party and her fear of clowns; these two things were connected. This was not the same death as Adam was suffering from.

  ‘So, you remember everything?’ Asked Booker.

  ‘This is all they had, most of the clothes go back to the families.’ Rob said with arms filled with a white sports top, some jeans and a pair of cheap black trainers.

  ‘What happened to my clothes?’ Asked Sara with scepticism in her voice.

  ‘They were covered in blood.’ Booker replied without a second thought. Sara’s eyes grew in her head, her eyebrows almost flew off they raised so high.

  ‘Oh, not like that, you were dead.’ Rob dropped the piles on the draw Sara was using as a seat.

  ‘I was what?’ Sara asked.

  ‘Dead, haven’t you looked down? There’s a huge hole in your chest.’ Booker pointed with a pencil he’d been using to jot notes down with, he tried not to look at Sara, because looking at Sara meant looking at Sara’s chest. Although this is something he wouldn’t mind doing normally, this scenario meant probable vomit.

  ‘I’m confused.’ Sara said, pulling her shirt over her head and down, she poked at the hollow centre where her chest hole was.

  ‘You’re confused, try us. Last time we saw you, you were dead.’ Booker scribbled more but was now at least able to look at Sara.

  ‘We’ve met before?’ Sara skipped around pulling her pants on.

  ‘Yes, this morning.’ Rob replied undoing the laces for Sara.

  ‘You were dead.’ Booker add
ed, hammering home the fact. Sara slipped her shoes on, she’d tried to wiggle her toes to get some warmth in them, she couldn’t even feel them never mind feel heat going to them.

  ‘When you woke up, you said something. You screamed something.’ Booker said finally looking at Sara.

  ‘Oh, what was that?’ Sara jumped back onto the draw, it wasn’t cold to touch like her brain told her it should be, it was just there solid without heat or chill, just existence.

  ‘I’m wet, could you explain what you meant by that, Hollie says you’d been screaming it for some time, well before we got here.’ Booker pulled a dreg from his flask, it made it easier to pretend that hole in Sara’s chest wasn’t looking at him.

  ‘I felt wet, like a cold wet sensation, that’s all.’ Sara explained kicking her feet below her. She wished she had some socks, she felt socks would help put feeling back into her feet. This was simply a thought, and not true.

  ‘Just because we have a friend, a friend with a very similar affliction to yourself, and we were wondering about the wet thing, he woke up in a river is all, do you remember any rivers. Before the supermarket that is?’

  ‘No, I just felt it.’ Sara looked confused, so did Booker, Rob had found a collection of magnets in a draw and was using them to spell out rude words.

  ‘Rob, Rob, call Rich.’ Booker demanded, Rob scurried from behind the table to meet Booker.

  ‘Rich is our policeman friend.’ Said Booker to Sara, Sara gave a half grin which went away in seconds.

  ‘Call Rich tell him we’re bringing Sara to the station to meet Adam.’ Booker handed off his phone without looking at Rob, he just watched Sara, keeping complete eye contact at all times.

  ‘Adam is our friend I was talking about, the one with the same infliction as you.’ Booker continued, Rob left with a phone to his ear, the sharp ring audible to the rest of the room.

  ‘You don’t have to talk to me like a child Mr.’ There was a pause, other than Booker’s first name, Sara knew little else about him.

  ‘Shield.’ He answered willingly.

  ‘Like the comedian?’

  ‘My uncle I’m afraid.’ Booker wasn’t a fan of his uncle. Rob walked back in and was met with silent eyes.

  ‘I miss anything?’ He asked being afraid he’d missed some huge revelation, this was a huge fear of Rob’s. He always missed things, parties and dinners and stuff, stuff people did.

  ‘Nope, nothing.’ Booker replied.

  ‘Good. Rich says Adam’s sleeping but if we head over and call him in the car he’ll try and wake him up.’ Rob seemed to stutter these words out, they weren’t his and repeating them was slightly odd as it didn’t have the same sound Booker had already gotten used to.

  ‘Adam is our friend, he’s going through the same thing you are.’ Rob said to Sara.

  ‘I’ve heard.’ Sara gave a little grin which said thank you out loud but in her head, it said you’re useless.

  ‘Okay, let’s go meet your friend Adam.’ Sara jumped up from the draw, she was superiorly agile for a dead woman.

  Sara had taken a little coaxing to leave the comfort of the morgue, lots of horror images circled her head. What if she burnt up in the sun like a vampire or couldn’t leave the building like a ghost. She didn’t make these fears heard but they did play havoc at the back of her mind.

  ‘Can we take it slow.’ Sara said, she’d said that before, when she first met her now husband. She did a little chuckle to herself thinking about that fact then it dawned on her.

  ‘Where is Alan?’ Requested Sara.

  ‘Alan?’ Booker asked walking by her side.

  ‘My husband. Mr Brixton.’ The words rolled off her tongue, she was beyond used to describing him in such a way.

  ‘We’ve tried calling him, he’s not at his office’ Rob answered, he thought it was better he did as he had the softer tone of the two.

  ‘Tried his mobile?’ Alan called it a cell because his American partners did, but Sara would always call it a mobile.

  ‘A bunch.’ Booker replied, cutting back into the conversation again.

  ‘That’s not like him.’ Sara walked on, talking about something other than her death made it easier to move on with her life. Shit, she’d thought about it again.

  ‘Does he know?’ death had crept back into her mind.

  ‘We don’t think so, the police, well the police are kind of slow at this kind of thing, they are too preoccupied with baked goods.’ Booker gave her the honest truth, which is what she needed right now in his mind.

  ‘Oh.’ She said softly. Booker turned back to Rob, handing his phone back to him it was already to redial for Rich at the station.

  ‘Would you.’ Booker tried to smile again, this time it looked like a collection of tax bills in his mouth.

  ‘Sure.’ Rob dialled.

  The phone rang and rang, then somebody picked it up. It wasn’t Rich, this was the problem with using the shared telephone.

  Many a time the cat had been let out of the bag, the particular cat in mention was personal phone calls. Something this phone was never meant to be used for, a small sign made of card and written with thick markers told people that.

  ‘RICH.’ The phone screamed into Rob’s ear, Rob gave a gentle smile to Sara, she looked so small, how could something so small cause this much fear in the pit of his stomach.

  Rob’s stomach was trying to escape, he could feel it, moving around pulling at his belt. Ironically the feeling made him sick. The irony being if he’d just let his gut go there’d be no such thing as sick for him.

  ‘Rich, we’re on our way.’ Rob spoke down the phone.

  ‘No, we’re on our way.’ He blasted again, punctuated with another grin to Sara, she grinned back, although it may have been a laugh. Rob wasn’t sure, he hoped it was a laugh, although some people laughed from pity. He returned to looking at his feet while pulling his keys from his jean pocket. He wasn’t great with women, if they giggled he fell into a world of worry, were they laughing because he was funny or was it out of some sort of guilt, maybe he wasn’t truly funny and these women just felt bad for him. Was it bad if he was funny or was it worse he didn’t care either way because he liked it when women laughed with him, and as long as he laughed they were laughing with him? Rob always made sure he laughed.

  There was a soft beep and the lights of his blue car flashed.

  ‘Yeah, wake Adam.’ Rob yelled, it was loud in the police station and Rich struggled to hear well.

  There was silence on the other side of the phone. Sara had gotten about three steps away from the car, she seemed to stop in her tracks, she shook as if the ground below was shaking. She shook, Booker grabbed her by the shoulder which seemed to stop it for a second or two until it overpowered him.

  Booker looked into her eyes as well as he could, but they were as white as candle wax, her pupils just visible peeking from under her long black eyelashes. Then her body went limp, Rob ended the call and ran over to her. Sarajevo had flopped to the floor like a wet fish.

  She was cold, Sara was cold before, but this was a different type of cold. A physical cold as if she was empty. The little first aid Rob knew kicked in and he tested for a pulse. There was none.

  ‘She’s dead.’ He spoke in whispers.

  ‘She was dead before.’ Booker replied with anger, everybody deals with grief differently.

  ‘Well, she’s double dead now.’ Barked Rob back.

  ‘Get her in the car.’ Ordered Booker, he didn’t know what else to do but order.

  ‘It’s a three-door.’ Rob exclaimed.

  ‘Then don’t bash her head.’

  13

  The car ride was pretty silent, Booker just played on his phone making whooping noises.

  Rob just drove, avoiding using the mirrors because of the dead girl in the back of his car.

  The car didn’t smell as you would expect it too, maybe the smell of rum had overtaken the smell of death in the car, or maybe Sara wasn’t the type of cor
pse to rot. She didn’t look the type of women to, she was too pretty, the prettiest corpse Rob had ever seen. Rob didn’t really want to think about it right now.

  Getting Sara out of the car was a much bigger struggle than getting her in. Rob hoped she wouldn’t wake up with a saw head from hitting it on the roof or ringing in her ears from when he knocked the seat into the car horn and it blared out a solid note. They pulled in and up to Rich in the frontcourt, they called a car park to help. The gravel below his feet was loose at places so Rich walked with a sideways slant, so he didn’t trip or fall.

  ‘Thanks.’ Rob said helping Rich place Sara softly into a seat.

  ‘She unconscious?’ Rich asked softly in case she was sleeping.

  ‘Nope, she’s dead. No pulse see.’ Rob picked up Sara’s hand by the wrist, held it for a second to check for a beat. There was none, so he dropped it again, Sara’s hand fell, swinging at her shoulder. Booker still fiddled with his phone.

  Sara sat at a large, shined desk, it was bolted to the floor with huge screws. Each side of the desk was two chairs, making four in total if you couldn’t guess. They were also bolted to the chair, with small but just as long screws, these locked down chairs were useful when it came to the more unruly and more temperamental guests of her Majesty's pleasure. Sara, in her current stage, was neither.

  Rich walked Adam in, Adam was looking at a large map of North Bank. The type of map you find in cars, nobody recalls buying them and placing them in their car, they are always just there. This map had been commissioned and published by a fast food chain and therefore had little forks printed all over it, showing where the fast food chain in question could be found.

  Rich pulled the map away from Adam, who didn’t seem to mind and just generally did what he was told.

  ‘Sit down.’ Rich told Adam as if to prove a point. Adam sat next to Sara, he looked at her for half a second and then looked up at Rich like a duckling looking at its mother.