Strike Me Dead

by Bob Goodwin

  He had worked through the sensation of taste and as it turned out, Rachel was right, Brad had in fact moved on to premix cans of rum. Rachel seemed much better at recall than the boys, but then she was far less intoxicated. Tien had even obtained a cigarette from a generous observer and given it to a reluctant Ryan in an effort to duplicate the Monday evening as best he could.

  The group had spent the past ten minutes working on the visual senses. Lights, people, cars, trees moving in the breeze and expressions on faces they had seen. Nothing of significance had emerged so far but they continued.

  ‘I didn’t see any old people around,’ said Damien.

  ‘You say old. Give me age number,’ asked Tien

  ‘No one over forty, maybe forty-five.’

  Tien looked to Mary and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘There was a group of four or five girls,’ added Brad. ‘They were near the car park no more than ten metres away. They seemed to be checking us out. I didn’t know them.’

  Rachel raised her hand as if in school. ‘Oh, there was someone.’ She had her eyes closed but pointed towards a grassed area near a small children’s playground. ‘He was sitting on the grass.’

  ‘That’s right, I do remember someone,’ said Brad. ‘He was in dark clothes with long sleeves and long pants.’

  ‘He was there for ages,’ added Rachel. ‘By himself.’

  Mary put her hand over her mouth. Her husband nodded to her and placed a finger over his lips. Tien knew this could be difficult, but it could just be something meaningful in the search for Jessica. Proceeding carefully was important. He had never done anything quite like this before. Working with individuals and couples in his office was one thing but in the field without the usual controls was far more difficult. It was important his demeanour remained unchanged despite his feelings.

  ‘We relax. We focus. Eyes stay closed. Mind and body are one,’ said Tien, his voice sounding soothing and calming. ‘All now think of man on grass. He sit near playground by self. Maybe he move. Maybe he eat, drink, talk. Maybe he stare.’

  ‘He checked his watch. I remember that,’ added Brad. ‘I know because when he did that, it made me do the same. It was eight fifty-nine.’

  Tien continued to work hard but no further information was forthcoming. Ryan and Damien could not even remember seeing the man. Brad remained unclear on the exact nature of the clothes, unsure of the style or fabric, only that they were a dark colour.

  It had been over forty minutes. Without being conscious of it, Rachel was beginning to sway. Mary moved to her side. She waved her hand at her husband and shook her head.

  ‘Thank you, friends,’ Tien announced, taking the message from Mary. ‘Open eyes now. Maybe sit down over here on grass. We rest now.’

  The four friends sat quietly for fifteen minutes, clearly exhausted. Mary arrived with bottles of water and passed them around.

  ‘My good friends,’ announced Tien. ‘I request just one more thing.’ Mary stared at him and shook her head slowly.

  ‘Mrs Chang not agree but I ask please. We try one more. Tonight, at time Jessica walk away. One time, then no more.’

  Chapter 7

  What is a Prawn?

  By 11.30, his work was finished and all the cleaning equipment was back in his van. James was on schedule and still had plenty of time for a full workout after his few minutes with Rae.

  While waiting for her to finish assisting a newbie understand the complexities of the rowing machine, the front- page story in the local paper caught his attention. As he scanned over the story, troubled thoughts filled his mind and his anxiety levels rose by the second.

  The headline took up half of the front page.

  HAVE YOU SEEN JESSICA?

  There was a large coloured picture of the face of a pretty young brunette with a beaming smile and a slight oriental appearance.

  What is it with that surname Chang? James wondered. Why do they only show her head in the picture?

  ‘So what’s going down then?’ said a sprightly Raelene. James was a million miles away and his body jerked with surprise on hearing her voice.

  ‘Oh, shit! Sorry, Rae!’ He put down the newspaper.

  ‘Wow, a bit wired are we?’ She pulled out a chair, sat across the table and smiled warmly.

  ‘It’s this story,’ he snapped, stabbing at the paper with his finger. ‘This Jessica Chang. The missing girl.’

  ‘Yes, it’s awful. I do hope she’s okay. Do you know her?’

  ‘Something weird is going on.’ He tapped more at Jessica’s picture. ‘And now it’s just got worse.’

  ‘Like what? Like how?’ Rae took James’s hand in hers. She rubbed gently over his knuckles with her thumb.

  ‘Her name. Chang. A Chinese name. I was at the Thai restaurant; there was a Chinese waitress with the same name.’

  ‘It is a very common name. A bit like Smith or Jones.’

  ‘That’s not it! Fuck!’ he blurted loudly then checked himself. ‘Sorry.’ He leaned a little forward. ‘She said the prawns’ heads were chopped off. And now there’s the head of Jessica Chang on the front page of the paper. Do they think her head has been chopped off too? My surname is Champion. It’s this C H connection thing everywhere I turn. They are onto me. I think they mean me harm if I don’t assist them or give them what they want.’

  There was a moment of silence. James’s eyes connected with Rae’s, pleading for her understanding.

  ‘This is really worrying you, isn’t it?’

  ‘The prawns were not real prawns. At least some of them weren’t. I’m sure of it. I said they were alive, well, they were not alive in the strict sense of the word; but they were switched on, they were active.’

  ‘Okay, well what is a prawn when it is not a real prawn?’

  James glanced around the gym. No one seemed interested in their conversation. Nevertheless, he leaned a little more across the table. ‘You know the movie The Matrix?’

  ‘One of my favourites,’ smiled Rae.

  ‘Remember the scene where they drop that prawn-scorpion thing into his belly button and it burrows into his body?’

  ‘To track his movements,’ she nodded.

  ‘Right! That’s it. Not exactly the same but pretty close. They wanted me to eat one.’

  ‘So someone is trying to follow you? Why?’

  ‘Because of what I know. I can’t tell you any more than that. I don’t even know what it is that I know that they want. I just know they want it. They could already be tracking and watching, but I don’t think so. I think I’m one step ahead of them, at least for the moment.’

  ‘James, have you told your Mum about this?’

  ‘I already have a strike. She would just give me another one. She doesn’t understand. I can’t tell her this shit. I want to but I just can’t. Oh, she tries alright. Tries to push my buttons, but all she wants to do is strike me out and send me to Jefferies. And he’ll just give me more drugs and send me to the madhouse.’

  ‘There is something I should say here. And you may not agree with me.’

  ‘Go on, what is it?’ He said sharply.

  ‘You only swear when you are unwell. We have discussed this before, and I know that you know it’s true.’

  ‘In the past, maybe. This is way different. Things have fucking changed, Rae.’

  ‘Okay, so what happens now?’

  James paused. He looked straight at the gym manager.

  ‘I have a plan,’ he replied cautiously.

  ‘You don’t need to share it with me. I appreciate some things are best left private.’

  Raelene knew James very well and this was the perfect response. Her brother, Timmy, had suffered from paranoid schizophrenia. He committed suicide after a severe psychotic relapse two years ago. The two were quite similar in their delusional content but had very different lifestyles. Tim was overweight and often lethargic, while James was fit and energetic. Since she had l
ost Timmy, Raelene had formed a special bond with James, not that he was a replacement brother but he was someone she cared for deeply, and someone she felt she could help through the tough times.

  ‘I was planning to return to the Blue Orchid Thai restaurant and have a talk to them this arvo,’ said James. ‘Now, it’s even more urgent. I will defend myself if it becomes necessary. They certainly have some explaining to do.’

  ‘I don’t think they will be particularly receptive.’

  ‘I am prepared to go to the police if I have to, but I hope to gain their co-operation first. I can be quite persuasive if I need to be. I’ll do a workout first. It always helps me think ... and plan.’ James released Rae’s hand and stood.

  ‘Would you like me to tag along?’

  ‘I don’t want you to get involved. It may be dangerous but thanks.’ He moved towards the exercise machines.

  ‘You call me!’

  James had his back to her but raised his hand in acknowledgement. He stepped up onto the treadmill and began his warm-up.

  Rae still sat at the table. She watched him from behind as he accelerated to jogging speed.

  ‘Easy with that knee now!’

  He raised his hand in affirmation.

  You’re on a slippery slope here, James, she thought. I don’t know if I can save you this time.

  Chapter 8

  Caloundra

  Normally, on a mid-afternoon weekday, the main business area of Caloundra would be busy enough, but just days before Christmas, it was running at a hectic pace. Being adjacent to the beach, girls in bikinis and guys in board shorts were commonplace amongst the other shoppers and tourists. Clothing outlets, discount stores and souvenir shops were reaping the benefits of the holiday season. The beachside takeaways and coffee shops, especially those with a splendid view across the Bribie Passage to the majestic Glasshouse Mountains, were proving very popular.

  In his white van, James inched along the five hundred metre stretch of Bulcock Street, searching for a parking space. After two unsuccessful circuits, he bit the bullet and headed for the nearby multi-storey car park. All the undercover spots were gone so a sunny park on the roof would have to do. There was one spot remaining. As he reversed his van, he noticed the letters on the number plate of the Subaru WRX next to him — CHH.

  For a full ten minutes, he remained in his parked car doing some deep breathing exercises and attempted to relax. Over the years, he had attended several sessions with various groups and psychologists and was experienced in a number of relaxation strategies. The deep breathing exercises, however, was failing him. Thoughts kept intruding. CHopped off; heads CHopped off; CHang; CHH; CHinese.

  He tried creative visualisation. I feel the warm sand between my toes. I hear the gentle lapping of the waves. I see the CHopped heads bouncing down the stairs!

  He opened his eyes and grunted through gritted teeth. This prompted him to try muscle tensing and relaxing. James allowed his mouth to fall open. He breathed out and leaned back against the car seat. He clenched his fists tightly until his knuckles were white and held it for fifteen seconds. Opening his hands, he let his fingers roll back and relax. Now notice the difference between the two sensations, he told himself. There was a moment of stillness before he opened his eyes wide.

  ‘Well fuck that!’ He lifted his hands up, clenched his fists again and looked at them. ‘Now that’s more fucking like it!’

  James flicked open the glove box and took out a huge hunting knife. He turned off the motor and got out.

  The knife drew a thick line down one side of the WRX, the red paint curling away beneath the blade. Partially satisfied, he slipped the knife back into its scabbard, which he clipped onto the belt of his dark jeans before untucking his T-shirt to conceal the weapon.

  The walk from the car park to the Blue Orchid was barely four minutes; and James strode on boldly, sidestepping the elderly, skipping past children in strollers and strutting across the pedestrian crossing forcing cars to stop abruptly. He was soon looking up the staircase to the first floor restaurant. It was here that he took a moment to collect his thoughts. He knew they were not yet open for business, but they would be preparing for the evening and it seemed more logical to confront them now rather than when the place was full of customers.

  Here’s hoping the Chang girl is there, if not, at least Michael, the owner. He felt the knife through his shirt then took the steps three at a time.

  Chapter 9 — January 1968

  Where’s Harold?

  Morgan and Margaret Finn, together with Father Bates, arrived at the Finn property in the late afternoon. Their departure from Gympie had been carefully planned, with Father Bates heading off by himself and Margaret following an hour later, picking him up at the roadhouse, fifteen kilometres south. All this to avoid any suspicion and idle gossip from the locals. Not that many didn’t already suspect something but at least this way it wasn’t obvious.

  The Finn home was in a relatively isolated, rural location in Kings Wood, just a few kilometres from Kenilworth on the Sunshine Coast. It was once a working property supporting a few cattle but now the hillside acreage was largely overgrown and the cattle long since gone. The immediate area around the gravel driveway and the house were in good order. The dwelling was a small low-set timber construction. There was a garage at the end of the driveway on a lower level than the house. A stone retaining wall rose up along the last fifty metres of the driveway, and along the high side was an attractive row of lilly pilly bushes. A neat set of stone steps connected the area to the house, which aside from needing a repaint, was a pleasant-looking home. This is where the trio planned to spend the next eight days.

  Many dark clouds had gathered for their arrival, and it was clear a storm would soon be upon them. The priest issued instructions for who was to carry what then hurried off into the house. He dropped a small, brown leather suitcase on the floor and immediately went to the black and white television. Reception was poor. The picture rolled and crackled then dropped out altogether. The priest slapped the side of the box but just managed to get the rolling and crackling back. He marched outside and looked up on the roof. A branch lay over the television aerial. Margaret wandered out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘What’s wrong, Harold?’

  ‘The television signal is out. I wanted to catch the news and see if there is any news on Harold Holt yet.’

  ‘Hmmm... It looks like more than one Harold is having problems at the moment,’ quipped Margaret.

  ‘That’s not particularly amusing,’ snapped the priest. ‘The man is obviously dead. Send the boy out here, will you.’

  The first fine drops of rain were falling as Father Bates directed Morgan up the wooden ladder armed with tape and wire.

  ‘Throw that branch off then bend it back up carefully. Secure it with the tape or wire if you need to.’ There was a long rumble of thunder. Morgan paused and looked down.

  ‘Go on, boy. Thunder never hurt anyone.’ He pushed on to the top of the metal roof. It was a quick job. The aerial was not broken and was easily bent back into shape. Morgan threw the offending branch and his accessories off the roof, well clear of Father Bates, who seemed to give him a scowl regardless.

  ‘You wait there now while I go and check the signal.’ The priest disappeared into the house. The rain was a little heavier and the breeze had cooled and gathered intensity. Morgan waited. He desperately wanted to come down, but he didn’t wish to aggravate the priest before the holiday had even started.

  Father Bates succeeded in getting a reasonable signal just as the news started. There were a few crackles and glitches due to the approaching storm but it was good enough to watch. He backed away from the TV and sat on the edge of the lounge. The search for the missing Prime Minister had been called off after over two weeks of searching. The priest sighed and eased back in the chair.

  ‘Morgan is still on the roof. Perhaps he can come down now?’ asked M
argaret softly.

  ‘Yes, yes.’ He waved his hand in her direction. A louder clap of thunder rumbled through the house.

  She hurried outside. The rain was now quite heavy and the tall trees were bending and swaying.

  ‘Come on down now. Quickly.’ She moved to support the ladder. Morgan managed a controlled slide down the roof on his backside, then turned and dropped his feet over the guttering onto the first rung of the ladder. A blinding explosion of light and simultaneous deafening snap shot him backwards with the ladder. Margaret dropped to the ground stunned for a few seconds before bouncing to her feet.

  ‘Morgan!’ For a moment, he seemed to have disappeared. The ladder lay across the ground at a right angle to the house. She heard a shout.

  ‘Help me!’ came the call. Margaret ran to the end of the ladder near the third lilly pilly bush. Held inside it was her son.

  ‘Oh, my God! Are you alright? Let me get you out of there.’ She helped the boy up and dusted off a few leaves. ‘Let me look at you.’ He was trembling and stunned but only had a few minor scratches. ‘Quick, back inside.’

  Just before they entered the house, Morgan looked up at the roof. A smouldering branch from a paperbark tree lay over the aerial. This time it really was broken.

  Chapter 10

  Twitch Twitch

  James bounded around the top of the staircase, ignoring the large sign that said: ‘Sorry, the Blue Orchid Restaurant is CLOSED. We reopen for dinner at 5.30pm. Thank You’.

  He stood at the reception counter with his back to the sitting area of the restaurant. There were clattering sounds and pleasant smells emanating from the kitchen. This is a nice place, he thought as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. A flood of pleasant memories filled his mind. He took in another deep smell. Lemongrass, ginger ... lovely! If only they knew they were being manipulated. He rapped his knuckles loudly on the counter. Michael, the owner, appeared within seconds.