by Amy Cross
“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Hannah asked, keeping her eyes fixed on the dead man as he edged closer. “He's stunning.”
Wendy stared in horror, still not quite able to believe that the sight was real.
“Remember what I told you,” Hannah added, reaching out and putting a hand on Wendy's chest, as if she was feeling for her pulse. “Be brave!”
“I'm trying,” Wendy whispered, as the dead man got to within a few feet of them.
“He's magnificent,” Hannah continued, nudging Wendy out of the way for a moment so that the pilot could shuffle past without interruption. “Sometimes I think I'm the luckiest creature in all of existence. The things I get to see...”
Slowly, the pilot stopped, and after a moment his lower jaw moved down a little as he let out a sigh. With a faint creaking sound, he turned his head until his hollow eyes were staring straight down at Wendy.
“Brave heart,” Hannah whispered. “He won't hurt you. He's more afraid of you than you are of him.”
“Like a spider?” Wendy asked.
“Nothing like a spider,” Hannah replied. “Spiders aren't scared of you, don't be silly, spiders are biding their time and spying on humanity until they can take over, but this gentleman...” She paused, before reaching out and putting a hand on the dead pilot's shoulder. “Hello, Squadron Leader Richard Cathcart,” she said with a smile. “Or would you prefer it if I called you Dickie? That's what they called you back in the mess hall, isn't it? Dickie Cathcart? I've done my research, I always like to know who I'm dealing with in this kind situation.”
The dead man turned to her, but he made no attempt to speak.
“You're a long way from home, Dickie,” Hannah continued. “Sorry about that. Your plane got tangled with a demon in the sky above London and that's why you crashed, and I think the demon's presence in the burning wreckage interrupted your journey to the other side. Still, that's what I'm here to fix. There's no going back to how things used to be, but that's okay, there's still somewhere for you to go if you keep moving forward. I've got a very strong feeling that, all things considered, you've been a good man. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that you were a hero.”
“Can he hear you?” Wendy asked, staring at the skull and mesmerized by the detail of its cracks and dents, and by the hair-width fractures running over the crown. She was scared, too, but the sight was too fascinating and she knew she couldn't possibly run.
“Of course he can hear me,” Hannah replied. “He could talk if he wanted, but I think he's tired. Very, very tired, and probably scared too.” Reaching into her pocket, she took out a hunting knife and used it to cut the cords connecting the dead man's shoulders to his parachute. “There. You won't need that where you're going. For you, Squadron Leader Cathcart, the war is over, but you saved a lot of people out there, and...” Pausing, she leaned closer to him, until her lips were almost touching the side of his skull. “I really shouldn't tell you this,” she whispered, “but your side's going to win. 1945. Sorted. You don't have to worry about the people you're leaving behind.”
“What did you say?” Wendy asked.
“Nothing,” Hannah replied hurriedly, stepping back and then standing straight, before offering a salute to the dead man. After a moment, she nudged Wendy. “Show some respect, kid.”
Cautiously, Wendy copied Hannah and gave a salute. She still didn't quite understand what was happening, but saluting a walking skeleton felt no more crazy than anything else at that moment.
The dead man stared at them both for a moment, before raising his right arm and saluting with a skeletal hand.
“Good luck, soldier,” Hannah continued. “Just one more step, and you're there.”
“Where?” Wendy whispered.
“Where do you think good people go when they die? Didn't you ever pay attention in school?”
“But -”
Before she could finish, Wendy saw that the dead man was taking another step forward, then another...
And then suddenly, he was gone. There was no flash of light, no fading away, no sudden burst of shadows. Instead, the ghostly figure just seemed to stop existing right in front of Wendy's eyes, and after a moment she actually reached out and waved her hands through the air to check that he was truly gone. Just as she was about to turn to Hannah and accuse her of playing a trick, she saw that the parachute was still in place, tattered and torn on the ground.
“Strictly speaking,” Hannah muttered, giving the parachute a gentle kick, “I should roll this up and get rid of it. People might get confused if they find it here in the morning, but...” She smiled. “Well, I like confusing people sometimes. Sod it, let them wonder, eh? They'll never guess, but if -”
She stopped suddenly, turning to look at the darkness all around and, after a moment, sniffing the air.
“Do you smell that?” she asked, turning to Wendy.
“Smell what?” Wendy replied, still too shell-shocked by the whole experience to really understand what was happening.
“It's like...” Hannah paused, before sighing. “He's not going to go peacefully, is he?”
“What do you mean?”
“Hang on, kid,” she continued. “I think our Squadron Leader might be trying to claw his way back from the grave. No wonder he slipped away from me before, he's not ready to go. Still, I didn't think he'd put up quite so much of a -”
Suddenly a burst of light flashed between them, as if the air itself was being ripped apart. Before she could react, Wendy felt a hand on her leg, and she looked down to see she was being held by a skeletal arm reaching out from a crack in the air. Panicking, she turned to run, but the arm pulled her back and she fell hard against the cobbles. When she turned to look, her eyes widened with horror as she saw the dead pilot trying to crawl out from the crack of light, his skeletal face screaming as the air all around sparked and roared. Crying out for help, Wendy tried to kick him away, only for him to grab her other leg and start pulling her closer, as if he was trying to climb up over her body and drag her through in the process.
“Help!” Wendy screamed, as the dead pilot pulled her closer. Twisting away, she looked back toward Hannah. “What are you doing? Help me!”
Sitting nearby, cross-legged on the pavement, Hannah was flicking through a small, tattered book, seemingly oblivious to everything else that was happening. Not helping, not doing anything. Just looking at the book.
“Help!” Wendy shouted, reaching toward her but not quite managing to grab her leg. All around her, the air was hissing as energy spat and crackled through the crack.
“Wait,” Hannah replied, turning to another page in the book. She sounded irritated rather than worried.
Feeling sharp, bony fingers digging through her dress and scratching into her flesh, Wendy looked back in horror and saw that the dead pilot was almost completely through the crack of light now. His skull was just a few inches from her face, staring at her with hollow eyes, but he was still pulling on her legs, as if he wanted to push her through.
“Help me!” Wendy screamed again.
“I am,” Hannah said calmly.
Still frantically trying to get free, Wendy turned to her. “You're reading a book!” she shouted, as the dead pilot let out a groan of pain.
“I made some notes earlier,” Hannah replied, turning to another page. “I just need to find them...” Her voice trailed off and she seemed lost in thought for a moment, before turning back to the previous page and muttering something under her breath. “My handwriting,” she added finally, “is goddamn atrocious.”
Turning back to the pilot, Wendy found his skeletal face almost pressed against her own. He tilted his head slightly, as if somehow, despite the lack of eyes, he could see her.
“Millicent!” Hannah shouted suddenly, tossing her book aside and dropping to her hands and knees. Crawling toward them, she grabbed the pilot's skull and forced him to turn and look at her. “Millicent,” she said again. “The name was on the tip of my ton
gue, but I couldn't quite remember. It's Millicent, isn't it? That's why you're not ready to pass on to the next life yet, you still love Millicent and -”
Before she could finish, the pilot let out a snarl, as if the name angered him.
“She's going to be okay,” Hannah continued. “She'll grieve, but she'll be okay. Don't be one of those sad souls who hand around mourning their old lives. Millicent is going to live a long and happy life, she'll have children with another man, and you'll see her again one day in the next world, where normal earthly concerns don't matter anymore.”
“Help me,” Wendy stammered, her voice trembling with shock. The pilot's sharp, skeletal fingers were still digging into her body but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't manage to slip free.
“Go in peace,” Hannah said, leaning closer to the dead pilot's face. “It's okay, I understand that you're scared, but you're done here in this world. You have to move on and explore the next life now. Millicent's going to be okay, so there's really no reason to dawdle. Just go in peace and you'll see that it's all been worthwhile. What's the alternative? You're in no state to go and see her, you'd only terrify her.”
Opening his mouth, the pilot let out a loud, angry hiss.
“Go in peace,” Hannah continued, gently starting to push him back toward the crack of light, while reaching down with her other hand and trying to force his fingers off Wendy's arms. “Seriously, you need to go in peace now. You're becoming quite irritating.”
The pilot's hand began to slip away from Wendy for a moment, before he reached up and grabbed her by the shoulder. She screamed as he began to pull himself all the way out of the crack, but Hannah sat back, raised her right foot and slammed it against the skull, kicking him away.
“Go in peace!” Hannah shouted, kicking him again and again. “Come on, what part of go in peace don't you understand?” She kicked his face again, before changing her angle of attack and this time kicking him in the chest with enough force to send him back a couple of feet, cracking some of his bones in the process. After pulling Wendy out of the way, she made her way closer to the pilot and took him by the shoulders, before leaning in and staring straight into his empty sockets. “When I tell you to go in peace,” she said firmly, her voice barely audible over the growing roar of the crack, “it's not a suggestion, it's an order. You're dead, which means that right now I'm in charge of you, so be told and go in goddamn peace!”
With that, she kicked him one final time, hard in the chest, sending him slipping back into the crack of light until finally he disappeared from view. A moment later, the crack rippled and hissed before starting to close, and it was gone entirely by the time Hannah sighed, turned, and walked back over to pick up her notebook. Dusting the cover down, she slipped it into her pocket before glancing down at Wendy, who was shivering on the pavement and staring with wide-eyed shock at the spot where the crack had been just a moment before. The air around them was silent now, save for the sound of Wendy's chattering teeth.
“What's up?” Hannah asked, before leaning down and snapping her fingers in front of Wendy's face. “Hey, kid, you look like you've seen a ghost. What's wrong?” She paused, before sighing. “Oh. Right. Yeah, you did see a ghost.”
Chapter Nineteen
Today
“Why didn't you answer your phone?” Doctor Carrington asked as they sat in the hospital's interview room.
Staring at her hands, Alice was aware of the question but still couldn't bring herself to answer. In her mind, she was reliving the dead girl's stare over and over, focusing on the way her skull had been so badly broken that one of her eyes had been been forced up to one side of her forehead. There had been something in the girl's expression, too, that hinted at a kind of resentment, as if she was angry about being dead.
“Alice,” Doctor Carrington continued, “are you listening to me?”
She turned to him, but she found that when she wasn't thinking about the girl, she had no thoughts at all. It was as if her mind had been completely taken over.
“This is a set-back,” he added, making a note on the form he'd begun filling out a few minutes ago. “I'm sorry, but there are no two ways about it, this is the worst-case scenario in terms of your recovery. Alice, can you think of anything in particular that might have precipitated this public breakdown? I thought last time we spoke that you seemed fairly happy, fairly confident, but obviously I was wrong. Did something happen to knock you back?”
She swallowed hard. “The mall.”
“The mall?”
“I...” She paused. “Did you speak to them?”
He nodded, and it was clear from the look in his eyes that he knew all about the incident with the graffiti.
“So I'm fired, right?” she asked.
He paused, before nodding again. “It was decided that you shouldn't continue in that role. Obviously the pressure of going back out into the real world -”
“I didn't see the person who was with me,” she replied, interrupting him.
“The person in the video?”
“I don't know who she is,” she continued, with tears in her eyes, “I've never met anyone named Hannah, I...” She paused, thinking back to the extra bus tickets and the piece of wire that had been placed in the box in her room, and then the note that had been slid under her door. “Is it possible,” she said finally, taking a deep breath, “that I could have a friend, someone I spent time with, but somehow I've completely blanked her out of all my memories?”
“Have there been other instances where this has happened?”
“Just little things. Hints that someone was there, even though I don't remember anyone.” She paused. “It's like I'm alone and not alone at the same time. I know what the video shows, but there was no-one there with me!”
“The footage from Barton's Cross mall suggests otherwise, Alice.”
“But if there was someone and I can't remember her, then...” She paused for a moment, as she realized that there was no other possible explanation. “I'm crazy,” she whispered finally. “It's not going away, it's not ever going to end. Whatever's wrong with me, it's permanent. You might as well put me back in a padded cell and throw the key away, because there's nothing you can do. I'm not well.”
“Alice -”
“I can't go back out there,” she continued, leaning toward him as she started speaking much faster, almost stumbling over her words. “I might be dangerous! This could get worse, I could -”
“Alice, listen to me -”
“I don't want to hurt anyone,” she stammered. “Not again.”
“Again?” He stared at her for a moment.
“What if I did kill that police officer?” she asked. “What if the lack of memory and the confusion is just my mind's way of keeping the truth from me? I read about that kind of thing, it happens sometimes.”
“You don't really believe that.”
“I don't know what to believe anymore, but I can't trust my myself. I'm seeing people who aren't there, and not seeing people who apparently are there, and I'm forgetting people I've talked to...”
Her voice trailed off as she stared into space, as if she couldn't quite believe everything that had happened to her.
“How do I even know that you're here?” she asked. “I could be talking to myself!”
“Alice,” he replied calmly, “I think we need to revisit a decision we made a long time ago. I think we need to reconsider the use of hypnosis to see if we can recover memories from the night when all of this started.”
She shook her head.
“Alice -”
“No,” she said firmly, her voice trembling with fear. “I already told you -”
“And I listened,” he pointed out, “but I think the problems you're having now are rooted in the events of that night, and in your inability to recall exactly how you ended up with your mouth and eyes wired shut, and all the other things that happened to you. In the absence of those memories, your mind is going into overdrive a
nd starting to fill in the gaps with wild speculation.” He paused. “I have experience in this field, I could conduct the therapy session myself, so you don't need to worry about having some stranger come in. I know continuity of care is important to you, but I hope you can trust me enough to let me try this.” He waited for her to reply. “It's the only option left that might help you.”
“You need to find Hannah,” she told him.
“All in due course.”
“If she's real,” Alice continued, “then you need to find her and bring her here and get her to explain what's happening.”
“What if she's just some ordinary girl you've befriended,” he replied, “and she has no idea that you've been blanking our your memories of her?”
“She's not an ordinary girl,” Alice continued, “she's...” Pausing, she felt as if some hidden realization was tugging at the edge of her thoughts, although she couldn't quite bring it into the light, not yet. “I think she knows,” she added finally. “I don't know why I think that, it's just deep down, an instinctive feeling. If you find Hannah, she can explain everything.”
He paused for a moment, staring at her. “Alice,” he said finally, with a sigh, “I agree with you that getting in touch with this Hannah woman would be extremely useful. However, it's clear that you have no contact details for her, so all I can do is leave a note on the door to your apartment asking her to contact me. I'm sure she'll get in touch eventually, but in the meantime I want you to think about the hypnosis angle.” He waited for her to reply. “You're scared, aren't you?”
“Of course I'm scared,” she replied. “I'm terrified.”
“You're scared of what you'll remember from that night,” he continued. “The night you were attacked, the night the police officer died. That's natural, healthy even, but you can't let fear hold you back.” He paused, waiting for a response. “It's held you back for ten years, Alice. You know I've always felt that you're subconsciously responsible for the barrier that's blocking out your memories. It's time to let go of that fear and let me help you remember.”