by G. Brailey
When Zack reached the narrow, steep stone steps that led up the hillside he started to climb them, the weight of his sodden clothes making his legs heavy. He scrambled up, crawled up really, until he was standing cautiously on the hillside wiping his muddy hands on his clothes, brushing rain from his eyes. There were signs forbidding people to use the bridge and Zack could quite understand why.
“Are you sure this thing’s safe!” said Zack, lobbing his voice into the gale that was threatening at any minute to scoop the two of them up and fling them down into the river and be done with it. Russell just stared as though he hadn’t heard the question, so Zack stepped gingerly onto the bridge feeling its sway beneath his feet, clutching at the broken rail that straight away gave at his touch. A few feet away from Russell, Zack stopped.
“Why the endurance test? And why here of all places?” said Zack, rain cascading down his face and hardly able to concentrate in these conditions.
“A precaution, that’s all…”
“Look, I’m sure you believe absolutely in all this, whatever it is, but I’m… well, how can I put it?”
“A nonbeliever?” ventured Russell.
“A nonbeliever, yes, that’s about it.”
“It doesn’t matter because the outcome will be the same. But you had a question you said, let’s start with that.”
“Strangers keep dying right in front of me, they call out my name and ask me to help them, three times now, three strangers.”
“And your question is?”
“Why it’s happening of course and how the hell do I get it to stop,” said Zack, surprised to be asked.
“You can’t.”
“What?”
“You can’t get it to stop, not in this lifetime.”
Zack wanted to hit him. “Are you crazy? Of course I can get it to stop.”
“Then go right ahead, you asked for my help but it seems you don’t need it.”
As Russell turned to walk away, Zack lunged forward and pulled him back. “I do, I do need it, I’m sorry…”
Russell gazed at Zack, hopelessly. He knew this man was desperate for a clean logical explanation but it didn’t work like that, and Russell also knew that as much as he tried to get Zack Fortune to accept this, he would not be able to accept it because he was not the accepting type.
“You’ve tried to regress to another life am I correct?”
“Well, maybe, yes…” said Zack, hugely embarrassed to have to admit to this.
“We forget our previous lives and deaths and that’s how it should be, sneaking glimpses as you have done is dangerous.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” said Zack, realising how pathetic this sounded, like a child blaming someone else.
“It doesn’t matter, what matters is that you have brought back information you should not have.”
“What information?”
“Only you know that.”
“So how do I get rid of it?” said Zack, more bewildered than ever.
“You can’t, you can’t unlearn things, no one can. You’ve invited chaos into your life and now you have to live with it.”
“Live with what?” said Zack, desperate to understand.
“People who have made this mistake are damned, and your life is about to reflect that if it hasn’t already. But there is some good news…”
“Surprise me.”
“You are the sinner that God loves, the recurring task he has set you in the afterlife has put you on a very high plane, but that is the only grain of comfort I can offer you I’m afraid.”
“What the hell does all this mean?”
“You are trying to cheat fate, but you can’t cheat this, this is your destiny.”
“What is?” screamed Zack. “And what’s all this water business and why were you so frightened of me? Tell me, stop replying in bloody riddles.”
“I can’t tell you anymore, it’s not my place.”
“So whose place is it!” said Zack, stepping up right in front of him.
“Please, don’t threaten me like this…”
“Threaten you? Threaten you? I’ll do more than threaten you,” said Zack grabbing hold of him and starting to shake him.
As Russell tried to fight Zack off, they staggered across the bridge from side to side like dancing bears.
“Tell me everything! I won’t let go of you until you do! TELL ME!”
Managing to break free from Zack and pushing him over, Russell skidded off along the bridge and had gone a fair distance, when his foot got caught in one of the broken branches that lay across the bridge like booby traps. Unable to regain his balance, he pitched forward against the hand rail that snapped like a match with his weight and toppled from the bridge, arms flailing, plunging down headlong into the river with an indignant yell.
Straight away Zack jumped in after him allowing the freezing water to shock him first in a full body assault and deprive him of breath, then to propel him through the rapids in crazy pursuit. Two hundred yards from the bridge and Zack had almost reached him, close enough to see the desperation in his eyes, certainly.
“Grab my hand, grab it…” said Zack, but as he forced his body forward to reach him and scrabbled to grab his hand, the fierce waters excited at their catch and determined to deny Russell’s rescue, swirled him off triumphantly and took him for their own.
At the very same moment Zack was dragged down into a dark vortex, exhaustion and cold had kidnapped every limb, and it crossed his mind that maybe he should just give in to it, no decisions… no fear… no fight. But just as he prepared himself for death, and he knew at that moment he could make that choice, a primal desire for survival took over and with a reserve of strength he did not even recognize, he forced his head and body up over the water line, frantic to breathe again, frantic to live. But he was still being hurled relentlessly downstream by a river eager to trump its first deadly catch with a second. Sharp boulders jutting out caught him, one nearly knocking him out.
Then, from somewhere, Zack found the determination to fight the rapids that were conspiring to break his will and with sheer bloody mindedness he battled his way through the brutal currents towards the river bank making several attempts to grab at overhanging branches, close to despair, as each branch gave at his needy grasp. Then at last, when Zack thought he would have to travel the length of this river in his attempt to negotiate solid ground, one branch was strong enough not to break, but to remain a robust lifeline as he grabbed it, allowing him to tug himself along it towards the bank. With an emergency supply of will, dredged up from who knows where, he launched his body like an ungainly flopping seal at the river path, where water spewed still, lapping back and forth, but shallow and without threat, the threat to Zack had gone.
Veronica heard the door quietly open and managed to sneak a look at Zack, wet through and covered in mud as he crept into the shower room and pushed its door to behind him. Veronica found herself wondering if Zack would tell her what he had been doing. She decided not to ask, but wait until he volunteered the information and if he didn’t then she’d accept that whatever Russell had had to say was unhelpful, and not worth repeating, because she knew that Zack had gone to find him, she just knew it. Veronica fell asleep again, but woke as Zack slipped into bed beside her and snuggled up against her back. She was waiting for him to touch her, but he didn’t, almost as soon as his head hit the pillow he was asleep.
The following morning they missed breakfast which pleased Mrs Fairweather no end. She gave them a smirk as they came downstairs not much before 11, then just as they were leaving the building she shouted after them.
“You do know rooms have to be vacated by 10.15.”
Zack stopped and turned back, indicating for Veronica to continue and to wait for him outside.
“We paid for two nights,” Zack said, “so vacating will happen tomorrow, not today.”
“You said you wanted to stay for one night, but agreed to pay for two,” said Mrs Fairweather, pedantic to
the last.
“Yes,” said Zack, really not in the mood for this today, “because you said we had to stay for two, so return us the extortionate fee you charged us for this bargain basement accommodation and you won’t see us for dust, in fact, you don’t know how happy that would actually make us.” Zack spoke with such sarcasm and glared at the woman with such contempt, she did not dare make a reply.
Getting nasty now, she thought, I knew it.
Zack made the barest nod then continued outside where Veronica stood waiting a little anxiously.
“Miserable old bat,” he said, as they walked away.
They found a nondescript coffee bar on the high street and during breakfast Zack organized help for his car. He told Veronica no need for her to come with him, more fun for her to mooch around town. A little later Zack was picked up by a young mechanic in a recovery truck and they made the short journey without saying much at all.
“Oh dear,” said the mechanic when he saw the damage. Yes, thought Zack, oh dear indeed. The mechanic jumped from the cabin and opening up the Mercedes perched himself on the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine fired immediately, keen, ready for the off.
“Well that’s one thing we don’t have to worry about.”
But of course Zack did worry about it. “There was nothing there at all last night.”
“The rain I expect, the battery died.”
“And came back to life again?”
“Clever sods these Germans, eh?” said the mechanic with a grin.
“Too clever by half,” said Zack, quietly.
“So what happened exactly?”
“The engine died the car stopped and the scaffolding pole fell. That’s about it.”
“Was someone with you?”
“Yes, yes they were.”
“Bloody lucky then, freak accident eh… the pole must have worked its way loose in the storm.”
“I suppose.”
“You could get thousands for this,” he said, nodding at the bridge, “sue the bastards, I would.”
The mechanic seemed to think they could get a windscreen driven over from Derby later that day, at least that was what he told Zack he was trying to arrange.
“Follow me back, yeah?” he said a little later, once the car had been cleaned up and the pole dispensed with at the side of the road, out of harm’s way, so Zack did follow him back to a small garage just outside town.
On the way back to the hotel the night before, Zack had phoned the police from a call box telling them about a body in the river, but of course left no details. Russell’s intransigence and his refusal to enlighten him after dragging him to such a remote place on such a terrible night had infuriated Zack. Russell knew the score, and had he wanted to he could have shared that information, but Russell chose not to do that. Instead, he talked in riddles and spouted grandiose garbage, and Zack had lost it, big time.
For some reason Russell was more frightened of Zack than he was of that death trap of a bridge or the river beneath it and his insistence on standing over water had done for him in the end, which was ironic to say the least. This should have been enough for Zack to dismiss Russell and his crackpot theories out of hand, and he wanted to, he really did, but he couldn’t, because Russell got one important thing right, he knew about the regression although Zack had told him nothing about it.
Zack ran through the vision one more time and could find no startling revelation in fact nothing of any significance at all. He saw a dying man reach towards him and ask him for help. The amount of blood that came from inside this poor creature suggested that he was in his last moments, just as the suicide had been and just as the old boy had been and just as the child had been. Yes, Zack could see a connection but a connection to what?
And it was then that Zack decided to stop beating himself up about all this and to try and forget it. Here in this picturesque mill town the sun was up, the storm had blown itself out and tonight he would go to bed with Veronica French. Life had, for the most part been good to Zack Fortune and as Jason Heart had reminded him it was short, and he was damn well going to enjoy it.
Veronica enjoyed exploring small provincial towns with individual shops selling individual things, the antithesis of the American shopping mall that was threatening to take over the British way of life, selling chain store everything. She wandered up and down the streets of Renfield, in and out of gift shops, galleries, boutiques, chandlers and bakers. Finally she came across an old fashioned sweet shop and dropped in to browse.
“What was he doing up there at that time?” said the shop girl, wide eyed, to the larger of two woman up by till.
“It’s obvious isn’t it?”
“I don’t buy that,” said the other one, “he’s rock solid is Russell, at least he was… and not with Elsie the way she is. She’ll not be long on this earth now will Elsie, not with Russell gone.”
Veronica came to stillness, glanced over at the women then tentatively moved towards them. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing… it’s not… Russell Garrity you’re talking about, is it?”
“Yes, love, he died last night, poor thing.”
“How?”
“He drowned at Grey Pike Fell although what he was doing up there no one knows. The whole thing is very peculiar if you ask me. I was just saying… I hope Elsie’s all right. She’s not that good on her feet these days is Elsie.”
CHAPTER 14
Jason Heart had been in Chancery Street since 11.30 am. It was now 2.15 and he was fed up. He had remained on the opposite side of the street to Emerson Buildings, mesmerized by the doors as they went round and round drawing people in and turfing people out. Old Patrick hadn’t noticed him, because he’d made sure he didn’t, but from Jason’s vantage point, he could see him near the window, chatting to a couple of old guys and Miss Betty was up behind her desk as usual.
Jason decided that she looked like a Miss Betty but the old black guy didn’t look like a Patrick. Patricks were usually Irish, but as far as Jason knew there were no jungles in Ireland and Patrick looked like he had just walked out of one. Jason didn’t like black people. In fact Jason didn’t really like any foreigners much, however, Jason saved most of his vitriol for the English, because after all, it was the English who had ruined his life.
Jason had been planning to join Zack Fortune for lunch, but no show so far. Jason wondered if he could blag his way in and get up to the 9th floor to see him. Maybe, thought Jason, maybe he could. Jason got past Patrick easily enough as he was distracted by a motor bike delivery boy who had presented him with two huge parcels. He also managed to get past Betty, at least he thought he had, but she caught a glimpse of him, just as the lift doors shut. Jason saw her picking up a phone.
The receptionist, Karen, at Nyman Holder and Drew, two years older than Jason, did not know what to make of him at all. He obviously knew Zack worked at the company but what he wanted him for Karen could not imagine. She told Jason that Zack was away, but she could tell he didn’t believe her. Karen was relieved to see Sam Stein get out of the lift, and as he was about to disappear down towards the water cooler, she called him over.
“Sam? This gentleman is here for Zack Fortune, perhaps you could help him?” said Karen, keen to dump the responsibility onto someone else.
Sam turned back and took Jason in, peering out from under his hood with jaded eyes. He noticed the holes in his jeans and his beaten up trainers and his dirty fingernails but Sam did not miss a beat.
“Of course,” said Sam, “if you would like to come with me.”
Jason followed Sam to his office and they went inside, Sam closing the door quickly behind them.
“So you’ve come to see Zack Fortune?”
“Yes, I’m his client.”
“His client?” said Sam after a hesitation, “what kind of client?”
“Possession with intent to supply,” said Jason, “that kind of client.”
Sam looked thrown. “But Zack doesn’t do
criminal defence anymore.”
“He does for me.”
“So he said he’d take the case?”
“Yes, because he hates it here.”
“Does he?” said Sam, surprised that a street kid should know more about his best friend than he did.
“He told me he’d sold out.”
Sam could see Zack making these claims but it bugged Sam to have them reported back to him by this boy all the same.
“I told him that life was short and he should enjoy it while he could,” said Jason, hoping this would impress Sam.
“Did you indeed?”
“And he agreed with me.”
“Yes,” said Sam, with a little smile, “I bet he did.”
“I dropped the bundle off with Miss Betty. I just wondered if she’d passed it over, that’s all.”
“Well I can’t answer that I’m afraid. Zack is away at the moment but he’ll be back next week so you can ask him yourself.”
Jason knew Sam wanted him to leave so he crossed to a chair, sank into it and folded his arms. Jason was going nowhere.
Betty had got no reply on Geoff’s phone from reception and so decided that drastic measures were called for and followed Jason up in the lift.
“Is Geoff around, Karen?” asked Betty.
“Yes, somewhere, try Phil’s room down on the left.”
Betty followed Karen’s instructions and at the end of the passageway stopped at an open door. Geoff and Phil, distinguished and soon to retire, looked at Betty a little taken aback, this was not her usual stamping ground after all.
“Geoff, I’m so sorry, but I do need to have a word,” said Betty.
“Come on in, Betty,” said Geoff, grandly, “come on in.”
Geoff indicated a chair as Phil went off and left them to it, not wanting to waste his time with Betty or the inconsequential world that she inhabited.
“This is very awkward, Geoff, but I really feel you should know.”
Geoff was curious now as he leant up against Phil’s desk arms folded. “Then fire away, Betty,” he said with a patronizing grin, “fire away.”