by Luke Walker
He laughed at his own joke, pushed Kirsty to one side and opened the door.
‘After you,’ he said.
For a mad few seconds, she pictured herself sprinting past him and crashing through the front door. The idea died. She’d never get past him and even if she did, the front door was locked. And God knows what he’d do to Sam and Charlotte if she tried anything.
‘You’ll be safe,’ she said to Sam and Charlotte. They stared at her with wide eyes and as much as she wanted to give words that would be more comforting, she couldn’t think of any.
‘Come on,’ Phil said.
She walked to him, arms and legs tense. As soon as she was a step past him, he grabbed her arm, slammed the door shut behind himself and marched her to the top of the stairs.
‘I know you’ll be thinking of running or calling for help, but don’t. Remember my knife?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘I’m fast, so even if you do shout anything, I’ll cut you a second later.’
There were no tears. She had that much to be grateful for.
He took her to the back door. The outside light had come on; it showed most of the garden and the fence encircling it.
‘Your car or mine?’ he said.
She didn’t answer.
‘Yours in that case.’
He unlocked the door and opened it. The temperature had dropped considerably since the morning and Kirsty wrapped her arms around her breasts to hug herself.
‘What are you going to do with your car?’ she said.
‘Don’t worry about it. Come on.’
He pushed her outside, pulled the door closed and it was right then that she thought about running straight out of the garden to the path and road beyond. He took her by the shoulder but with a gentleness.
‘Don’t,’ he said softly.
They walked to the gate and out to the little road. The cars were exactly where they’d left them. Seeing her car in this part of town she didn’t know and didn’t belong to was somehow worse than the threat of Phil’s knife, and it was so hard to think of the car outside her house where it belonged.
Desperately, she tried to look around without moving her head. It didn’t make any difference. People were in their homes, not out on the street. Even if they were, they’d think nothing of a man and woman walking so closely together.
Phil led her to her car and told her to unlock it. She reached for the keys and one loud thought clamoured at her.
You get in the car with him and you’re dead. You’ll never get away.
I don’t get in the car and I’m dead, she replied to herself and pulled her keys free.
‘Good girl,’ Phil said against her ear.
She unlocked the door and moved to slide inside.
‘You’re driving. I’m in the back,’ he said.
She unlocked the car and they entered at the same time. The sound of the two closing doors made her want to weep.
‘Start the car,’ Phil said.
‘Where are we going?’
She started the engine and looked at him in the rear-view mirror. He’d tilted his head and stared past her to the little road. The angle of his head was unmistakable.
What’s he listening for?
Another question followed that one immediately and Kirsty bit back a hiss of fear.
Who’s he listening to?
‘To see my sister,’ Phil replied.
‘She’s dead.’
The words were out before she could stop them.
He smiled, exposing perfect teeth.
‘I know.’
Sixty Seven
They raced across the garden, Stu and Karen ahead of Will. He put on a burst of speed and caught hold of Karen.
‘What are you doing?’ he shouted.
‘It’s Mick.’
‘He’s dead.’
Stu stared at both of them and it hit Will how exposed they were, how open the road was. He looked behind. The lights were still on in Geri’s house, the front door still open. Whatever kind of protective bubble covered the house, they were outside of it now and had been since leaving the diary and photo on the kitchen table. Even though he held a knife from the kitchen and Stu had grabbed the bat before sprinting outside, the weapons felt like no real protection.
‘We should go back,’ he said.
‘Not until we speak to Mick,’ Karen said and shook off his hold.
Will gazed at the figure at the corner of the road, somehow dozens of steps from the house despite knocking on the door just seconds before. It looked like Mick, no question, but it couldn’t be him. Mick was gone just like Andy.
He ran a hand through his hair and fought tears of grief and exhaustion.
‘Mick?’ he called. ‘Come here.’
Mick remained still.
‘He’s a ghost, isn’t he?’ Stu murmured.
Mick was too far away to hear Stu’s low voice. Even so, he nodded. The movement was awkward as if he wasn’t quite sure of it but there was no mistaking it.
‘God,’ Will whispered. ‘What do we do?’
Stu took a few steps towards Mick, then looked back at the house.
‘Wait here,’ he said and sprinted to the house. Karen and Will stood as closely together as they could, Will looking from Mick’s shape to Geri’s front door.
‘It can’t be Mick,’ he whispered.
‘It is.’
Will trembled. Mick was dead. There was no getting away from that. And the shape who’d waved at them, while looking like him, resembled a picture, had to resemble a picture or a suggestion of Mick.
It couldn’t be him.
Running steps made him look back to the house. Stu ran to them, holding the diary and photo. He slid both into his jeans pockets.
‘We’re okay as long as we’ve got these. Let’s go.’
‘What about what you saw at school?’ Will said.
Stu replied as if Will hadn’t spoken.
‘We’re safe. Let’s go.’
He set out ahead of them. Will resisted when Karen took his hand; she pulled and he relented.
The three walked towards Mick, the houses of Oakfield Walk watching them.
Sixty Eight
Coming to me.
Walking to me. They are here. I am here.
Mick. They call. Me Mick.
My name. Remember me. I am Mick.
Coming to me. Lead them.
The water. To the water.
I am here.
Sixty Nine
‘Jesus,’ Will whispered.
Mick, or whatever he was now, stood a few steps from them. On the surface, he appeared normal. It was only when the moonlight caught the angle of his jaw in a particular way or when he didn’t focus on any one aspect of him that the truth was clear.
Mick was dead.
There were no visible wounds, no tears to his clothing. But he was dead. In his face, his eyes, in his mouth, he was dead.
‘Mick? Can you hear me?’ Karen said.
He nodded, the movement still awkward. It was like watching someone too drunk to speak attempt to communicate.
‘Mick? Fat Mick?’ Stu whispered and Mick nodded a third time. ‘Good to have you back.’
Will wept. Karen took his hand and he was unable to speak.
‘Come back to us, man. We’re here. Come back,’ Stu said.
Slowly, oh so slowly, Mick shook his head. He lifted an arm, extended a finger and pointed down the still street.
‘What’s down there?’ Stu whispered.
In reply, Mick began walking. He moved as if his legs didn’t work properly, making lurching steps in the road.
‘Is it safe, Mick?’ Will said and Mick didn’t stop.
It’s safe. This is Mick. It’s safe.
Any lack of logic in the thought wasn’t important. Will had to believe it. They walked together, a step behind Stu.
Mick led them and a minute passed before anyone spoke.
‘Mick?’ Stu whis
pered.
Mick gave no reaction.
‘Can you hear me?’
Mick kept walking with his lurching steps and it hurt Will to see his friend this way. He focused on the road stretching ahead and tried to keep his eyes on it when Stu spoke.
‘Come on, Mick. Talk to me.’
‘Leave him alone,’ Karen said and Stu glanced at her, his mouth a tight line in his face.
‘He’s not here like we are,’ Karen whispered and Stu pointed at Mick.
‘So what is he then?’
‘She’s right. Mick’s a ghost, aren’t you, Mick?’ Will said.
Mick’s head turned even while he kept on with his strange, sad walk. His dead eyes watched them and while there was no anger in his expression, there was also no light.
He faced ahead again.
‘We can still talk to you, right, Mick?’ Stu asked, sounding like a little boy. He looked at Will and Karen as if asking for permission.
‘I think we can,’ Karen said.
Stu appeared to consider his next words. They passed two small side roads and their path veered slightly to the right. Will estimated there was only another few hundred yards before the road curved towards Bradwell Road. If that was Mick’s route, he’d take them to the school in no more than five minutes.
‘I’m sorry you died,’ Stu said abruptly. It sounded like he was coughing up hard words. ‘I miss you, you fat bastard.’
‘Me, too,’ Karen said and freed her hand from Will’s to rub her eyes.
‘Yeah,’ Will said. Guilt stabbed him. He’d let Mick’s hand go by the river. What had happened was down to him.
Mick looked at them again and Will wondered if he’d imagined the slight grin on his dead friend’s face.
‘We’ll get out of here. We’ll get out and whatever killed you, we’re going to fuck it right up, all right?’ Stu said.
Will found his voice. ‘Wait a second. Mick, you’re back with us, yeah? You’re here.’ He was babbling and couldn’t stop it, couldn’t look away from Mick even though he knew Stu and Karen were staring at him. ‘Geri’s come back, right?’ He finally took his gaze off Mick and glanced at Karen. ‘Maybe Mick and Andy can come back.’ His voice fell apart and he coughed back a sob.
‘I don’t think it works like that. I don’t think they get any say when they come back. Maybe things, maybe they just have to be in the right place,’ Karen whispered.
‘Jesus. Mick.’ Will couldn’t say anything else. He let Karen take his hand and he could no longer look Mick in the eye.
They walked on, Stu talking in a low voice, telling Mick he missed him and he was sorry and they’d make sure Jodie knew Mick was a good bloke who’d helped them like this and Will let Stu’s words fall over him. He didn’t want to think about Mick being dead or this horrible road or whatever might be watching them, eager to get to Karen, to hurt her while he could do nothing to stop it. Best to not think of any of that, better to keep walking, one foot in front of the other in the constant night of this hideous place.
They reached Bradwell Road as Will had imagined. Mick stopped in front of Stu who came close to walking into Mick’s back.
‘Mick?’ Stu said.
Mick lifted his arm again and pointed. Bradwell Road curved at the corner and moved into Cromwell Road. With no surprise, Will saw Mick pointing at the school. He stared at it, seeing it as Stu had described it earlier. Too big, too quiet, and too fucking dark. Anything could be in there. Things in the shadows. Geri with a gun. And whoever had knocked Stu out of the way of her bullet.
‘Mick. Was it you? Did you knock Stu over in there?’ he said.
Mick shook his head in a slow movement.
‘Do you know who it was?’
Mick spoke.
The word didn’t come from his mouth and he didn’t move. Will heard him though and, judging by Karen’s hurt gasp and Stu stepping backwards as if Mick had swung a punch at him, they’d heard him as well.
School.
He resumed his awkward steps, crossing to the pavement, then heading to the main entrance.
‘Do we follow him?’ Will said.
‘What else can we do?’ Stu said.
‘But Geri, the gun.’
‘What else can we do?’ Stu said again and ran after Mick.
Karen pulled Will; he resisted and pulled her right against him.
‘Stay close to me,’ he said and wished as fiercely as he could that she wouldn’t argue.
They ran after Mick and Stu, followed them on the pavement into the car park and Will had time to wonder at his old school as it hadn’t looked in years. None of the newer buildings, none of the remodelled swimming pool and none of the new sixth form block on the grass at the side of the building remained. The whole school looked exactly as it had on the day he’d left it.
What? What the hell does that mean?
He didn’t have time to answer himself.
Daylight exploded into life all around them.
Seventy
At first, it was a simple white, dazzling in their eyes. Then it eased to simple daylight, leaving a painful afterglow. Karen blinked until her vision steadied, felt Will’s hand still on hers and her mouth dropped open.
They were on the pavement, still close to each other. The school hadn’t changed. What had changed was the time.
Some indefinable thing in the air and in the ground of the car park had altered; they’d moved with it. Maybe it was the smell of the air, fresher and lighter than usual; maybe it was the light and maybe it was neither. Maybe it was just how things were here. Here in their past.
The word was alien. She spoke to make it feel human and almost succeeded.
‘This is the past, isn’t it?’ she whispered. All at once, her stomach was a hot, loose muscle. She breathed deeply a few times until the sensation passed.
‘Yeah. This is school how it was.’ Will whispered.
He stared at Mick who hadn’t reacted at all to the change.
‘When is this?’ Stu shouted. He ran to Mick, close to grabbing him. He halted at the last moment and instead leaned into Mick’s face.
‘When is this, Mick?’ he whispered.
The voice came out of Mick again. Not speech. Not a thought. It was in their heads like background noise.
Last. Day.
Stu stepped back from Mick, eyes too wide.
‘What last day?’ Karen demanded. ‘Our last day? Do we die here?’ She froze, realisation flowing into her.
‘What?’ Will yelled.
‘It’s our last day. Of school. We’re back here.’
Mick began walking again, moving into the car park, not looking back.
‘Wait.’ Karen ran after him, Will and Stu behind her. Mick took them over the car park, passed the main entrance and onto the path Stu had followed. Stu spoke.
‘Mick, wait. I came this way. Geri, she was here. With a gun. She shot at me. We can’t go any further.’
Mick carried on walking and Stu shouted after him, telling him to stop and his words faded when the sound of voices, many different voices, came.
‘What the hell is this?’ Will whispered.
The three of them stood in a tight group, Mick still walking away and the first of the students appearing.
They bloomed into existence as if born of light, kids all around, some running, some talking to their friends, others moving alone. Four stood not far from Stu’s side; another five walked past the three. Karen tried to look everywhere at once, unable to speak. More students came into view, all kids between twelve and eighteen, some with their bags, some eating chips, a few of the older ones hiding cigarettes in their hands, and there were some of the teachers crossing the car park; men and women she hadn’t seen in years and not one of them a day older than they had been on this day, the last day of school.
‘Mr Barnes,’ she whispered.
The science teacher reached the pavement and headed to the school entrance, long shadow walking with him. And coming behin
d him, Miss Jenkins and Mrs Nasreen.
‘We’re seeing this, aren’t we?’ Stu said.
‘Yeah. We’re here,’ Will whispered.
Here. In the past. Watching a long dead day unfold and play around them. Karen wanted to laugh at the idea and couldn’t. This was as real as Will’s hand in hers.
Mick was almost level with the cafeteria entrance, moving with his ungainly steps. Stu pointed at him.
‘That’s where I was when Geri shot at me.’
The words were like a spell. A change shifted over them and over the ground. It was like a silent tremor. She studied the building, the paving and children. All appeared normal. Fear crept up her spine. It was much too easy to picture the children with gunshot wounds, blood staining the white paving slabs, sunlight shining on screaming mouths.
‘Christ,’ she said and shook the images away.
‘She can’t do it,’ Will said desperately. He pointed at the children. ‘This is how it was, right? So how the hell can she change that? She can’t go back in time; she can’t kill people. We were there.’ His voice rose with outrage. ‘We were fucking there and this was our fucking time and she can’t change that.’
He shook, looking as if he might vomit.
‘She can’t do it,’ he whispered.
The tremor shook again in the ground and air. Stu and Will felt it just as she did.
‘Quick,’ Karen said and the word was too slow, too heavy.
She took hold of Stu, kept her grip on Will and they ran after Mick, passing children who didn’t react to them, passing benches and the silent tremor rocked through her again.
No, Geri. Please, no.
A second of rational thought tried to speak to her, to ask where the hell Geri would get a gun just as it repeated Will’s point. This was the past, this was their time and Geri couldn’t change that.
A single gunshot cracked through the air. Screams followed it immediately.
A second shot roared.
Will tried to pull Karen down into the bushes growing alongside the school; she yanked her hand from his and sprinted towards Mick. He faced the library, head tilted up to a second floor window. All around her, students ran, maddened by terror, in every direction. More gunfire cracked, and Will screamed at her, screamed her name as her feet bashed against the concrete. She sprinted towards Mick, her head tilting like his and there was Geri at the window, gun jutting from it, firing shot after shot at the running children.