Lost Souls

by Seth Patrick

  ‘Here,’ said Never, handing Jonah his earpiece. ‘Good luck.’ He followed West and closed the door of the partitioned area behind him.

  Jonah moved to where David Leith’s body lay and looked at it for a moment. He thought of himself at fifteen years old, probably the worst time in his life – the year after his mother died.

  He snapped out of it, hearing a buzzing. The sound was coming from the earpiece in his hand. He looked up at the observation window and could see that Never was speaking. He put the earpiece in place.

  ‘How’s the soundproofing?’ Never asked.

  ‘I couldn’t hear a thing.’

  ‘The mics are picking you up well, so everything’s good. That’s the only seat I could find, take a minute to adjust it.’

  Jonah looked at the ancient swivel chair beside the gurney, then back to the observation room. ‘What about you two?’

  ‘We have boxes.’ Standing up, Never had a look at what he’d been sitting on. ‘I have disposable gloves. Detective West has scrubs. It’ll do. Give the word when you’re ready.’

  Jonah sat in the chair Never had put out for him, pulling it closer to the gurney and adjusting the height. He took David Leith’s hand, getting a feel for how it would be to sit like this for up to an hour, immediately realizing that they just didn’t have the time.

  The seat would suffice. He stood and leaned over the body. As requested, a blanket covered the abdomen and legs. He adjusted it a little, assessing the chance that movement of the chest could make it slip off. He decided it would stay in place, then checked the throat for signs of rigor, just in case.

  He looked up at the mid-shot camera, the one Never would be watching.

  ‘I’m good,’ Jonah said, sitting down again. The red light on the camera went green. Recording had started. ‘Revival of subject Clayton David Fray Junior, known as David Leith. J. P. Miller duty reviver.’

  5

  Jonah took the corpse’s hand in his, fully aware of the time pressure. With such a fresh death, achieving revival could be very quick indeed, but surgical cases sometimes proved more tricky. The reasons were unclear; some laid the blame on the anaesthetic, but no-one really knew.

  He closed his eyes. This was the first stage of revival, the part known as the reversal: finding the subject, somehow, in a way all revivers intuitively understood but which seemed impossible to quantify, a process that had not even begun to be understood in spite of all the research. He reached out, holding the subject, becoming submerged in the death that surrounded him and allowing the cold lifelessness to invade every part of his being. Then he waited for it to dissipate, the subject’s injuries gradually reversing in his mind. The worse the state of the body, the longer the process took.

  He sensed something and grasped, holding on to what he knew was the essence of David Leith. He felt himself pulled hard and he became disoriented, feeling as if it was his own body lying dead on the gurney now, aware of every part of it, right down to the smallest amount of damage; the initial stab wound, the surgical incisions, even the bruising David had suffered on his legs as he’d fallen after the attack.

  Jonah waited, focusing. He pictured the damage retreating, the dead blood purged and invigorated as the body became – in Jonah’s mind – what it once had been. Only when this was done could the essence return.

  He wondered how long it was taking. It was difficult to keep track of time during this stage.

  Almost there. Almost.

  The second stage would come soon. Known as the surge, it was often frightening. Whereas the reversal could be anticipated reasonably well from the state of the subject, the surge was impossible to predict. It could be gentle, at its best; gentle and rapid, almost unnoticed, as it had been in Jonah’s first, the accidental revival of his own mother. Or it could be a nightmare, a sudden overwhelming flood of experience, like drowning in the screams of the dead – image, sound and emotion swamping him, coming in waves, again and again, leaving him beaten and panicking and wanting to stop.

  But if he ever did stop, he would have to start again – or find another reviver able to do it – within two hours, or else the chance would have gone forever. And here, now, that simply wasn’t an option.

  The surge hit him. He braced and tried to ride it, to go with it as the pulses battered his mind. Not an easy one. Not easy at all. But he held his nerve and got the reward.

  Jonah opened his eyes. ‘He’s here,’ he said. A moment later the corpse of David Leith took a long, slow breath, the dead lungs filling with the air that would let it speak. Jonah turned towards the observation window, looking at Never. ‘How long was I?’ How much had he used up of their precious time?

  ‘Seven minutes,’ said Never, with a tentative smile.

  Jonah nodded. Much faster than he’d thought, and a good start. He turned back to his subject.

  ‘My name is Jonah Miller. Can you tell me who you are?’

  ‘David,’ said the corpse, in a whisper so quiet that Jonah wondered if it was enough for Never’s hasty set-up to record. He looked at Never again and got a nod. All fine. Jonah could hear everything clearly, of course – for the reviver, the dead voices were always loud, as if spoken directly into the ear, but Jonah’s experience allowed him to know the true volume.

  ‘Do you know what’s happened to you, David?’

  A pause. ‘I was attacked.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jonah. ‘Think, David. Think about what happened to you.’ He wanted to give the boy a few moments to remember, to try and work it out. The shock of their own death was typically reduced if the subject could come to realize it for themselves, rather than having to be told.

  The sound of a cell phone ringing made him look to the observation room, exasperation on his face. Detective West raised his hand, answering the call; it had happened before, that a detective without the experience in revival cases had simply neglected to switch their phone off, and Jonah shot a look to Never, expecting him to intervene.

  But Never was watching West with wary eyes. Jonah suddenly realized what it meant. There was only one call West would have taken.

  Detective West’s face was solemn as he lowered his hand. ‘That was Sheriff Garter at the hospital entrance. His missing deputy just showed up with a lawyer and two other men.’ He shook his head. ‘They have their warrant. Nothing Garter can do about it.’

  Jonah felt suddenly cold. West looked at Never, and Never looked at Jonah. What the hell could they do? He could feel that David was about to speak again. The body had taken another breath, long and slow, while the call had come through.

  ‘Am I . . . ?’ David said. ‘Oh God. No.’

  Jonah’s mind was racing. They only had seconds before the law would come down against him, and against David. He made a decision.

  ‘Bring his mother in right now,’ he said, looking at Never. ‘And buy me some time.’

  6

  ‘I died,’ said the body of David Leith.

  ‘Yes,’ said Jonah. He could feel the emotions David was experiencing. It often took a minute or two of careful handling at this point in a revival, to reassure and console the subject, prevent them from becoming caught up in their own fate and unwilling to talk about what had led to their death. David, though, was accepting. There was anger, yes; regret, too. But it was more annoyance than rage, and it would allow things to proceed more quickly.

  Detective West was at the door, bringing in David’s mother. ‘Stay outside,’ he told Flores. ‘Go and intercept them. Stall, if you can, but don’t overstep the mark. One of us may as well keep their job.’

  ‘I see them,’ said Flores. She started walking up the corridor. West looked after her briefly before coming back inside and closing the door.

  ‘Shit,’ said West. ‘They’re coming, all right.’

  ‘Can we barricade it?’ asked Never, sounding desperate.

  West took a key from his pocket, a key with a huge fob attached. ‘They gave me this to let us in here. With luck it’s t
heir only one.’ He put it in the lock. ‘If anyone has cold feet, this is your last chance.’

  ‘Do it,’ said Never, and West turned the key.

  Katherine Leith walked over to her son’s body. She stood by David’s feet, staring at his corpse with despair. She looked at Jonah, and Jonah nodded.

  ‘We do this now,’ he told her. ‘We don’t have long.’ He sensed David’s confusion at what he was saying. ‘David, your mother’s here.’

  There were knocks at the door. A voice called for it to be opened. Garter’s deputy, Jonah presumed.

  ‘Mom’s here?’ said David. ‘Is . . . is my father here too?’

  Jonah looked at West, suddenly wondering if Clayton Fray had been in the area, close enough to come himself, but West shook his head. ‘No,’ said Jonah.

  ‘Good,’ said David. He started another long, slow breath.

  The knocking at the door became more forceful. ‘Say goodbye to your careers, gentlemen,’ a second voice said. ‘Officer, get this door open.’

  ‘Unlock the door, Detective,’ called the deputy.

  David was ready again. ‘I want to tell you what I saw, isn’t that why I’m here now?’

  ‘If there’s time, David,’ said Jonah. ‘I’ll be honest, we’re under a little pressure. We only have a few moments, and I think you and your mom should use it.’ Jonah looked at Katherine and nodded.

  There was the rattle of a key. Jonah and Katherine both turned their heads.

  ‘Take your key out of the lock, sir,’ ordered the deputy. They must have obtained a spare, Jonah thought; West was holding tight to the end of his, keeping it in to obstruct the lock.

  Jonah and Never shared a look, Never’s expression a mix of frustration and anger. Jonah looked back to Katherine and signalled for her to begin.

  ‘I love you, David,’ she said. Jonah repeated it for David; just as he could hear the words of the dead no matter how quietly they were spoken, the dead could hear what he said even when it was barely audible. He could repeat the words even while Katherine spoke, not an easy skill but one he’d had plenty of practice at. It helped create the illusion that the relative was speaking directly to the subject, and Jonah knew that the illusion was important.

  Katherine continued. ‘And I’m sorry, sorry that I stayed with your dad as long as I did, that I let him bully us for so damn long. You’ve always been such a good son, such a sweet boy, and you deserved better.’ Her head dropped, tears falling from reddened eyes.

  ‘Don’t say that, Mom,’ said David. ‘You know him. He’s an arrogant son of a bitch and you’re worth a million of him. You deserve better too. Always. You fought for me because you love me. Dad fought for me because he wanted to hurt you. And I know you won’t take him back, whatever he says, but you have to promise me you won’t settle for a guy like him again. I want you to be happy, Mom. Not just for you, for me, too. If you’re happy, we win. I love you, Mom.’

  A sudden thump drew Jonah’s attention. The door was shaking with repeated blows. The deputy must have fetched a door ram from his vehicle, and it didn’t look like it would stand up to much more.

  Jonah looked at Katherine, and she nodded. She knew it was time. ‘I love you, David,’ she whispered. ‘I love you. Now, you have to sleep.’

  Another loud thump came from the door, and it started to splinter.

  Jonah inclined his head to the far corner of the room. Better for Katherine to stay out of the way. She understood and stepped over to the side.

  ‘David, I’m going to let you go now,’ said Jonah.

  ‘Don’t I get to tell you what happened?’

  The door crashed open.

  Jonah looked up as the deputy entered, followed by a shorter man with a thin face that still managed to pack in plenty of hatred. The lawyer, Jonah presumed, and almost certainly a devout Afterlifer. Two larger men came next, casually dressed: the lawyer had brought his own backup. Sheriff Garter and Detective Flores followed behind.

  ‘Let’s keep this calm, Harry,’ Garter said.

  ‘Just doing my duty, Sheriff,’ said the deputy. ‘Someone around here needs to.’

  Jonah looked back to David. ‘I’m sorry. We’re being made to stop.’ David started to take another breath.

  Shouts came from both the deputy and the lawyer, with responses from Flores and Never. The exchanges rapidly grew more heated until one of the lawyer’s goons grabbed Never’s shoulder, throwing him hard into the door of the observation room. His hands went up to his face and came away bloody. As Never moved angrily towards the goon once more, West and Flores stepped in to calm things.

  ‘Settle down!’ shouted Garter. His voice cut through the uproar, leaving sudden silence in its wake. ‘Harry, I said keep this calm.’

  The deputy nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’ He held up a sheet of paper. ‘We have the authority to halt this revival, and I insist that—’

  ‘Was it my father?’ said David Leith. His voice was far louder this time; the anger in it was unmistakeable. The deputy trailed off, staring at the moving corpse.

  Maybe he hadn’t been present at a revival before, Jonah thought. Natural, if he had Afterlifer sympathies, but the first experience of a corpse speaking was always going to unnerve.

  ‘Did he want to stop this?’ said David. ‘Because I want to have my say, Jonah. Doesn’t that count?’

  Jonah looked the deputy in the eye. ‘Well, officer? Doesn’t that count for anything? I stop now, and it’s too late. David can’t ever have his say. We have his mother’s permission, and the boy himself is pleading with you.’

  The deputy looked back. Ten long seconds.

  ‘Please,’ said David.

  The deputy looked at the floor, stunned, torn. At last he looked back at Jonah. ‘You have two minutes,’ he said, his voice small.

  ‘No!’ yelled the lawyer. He tore the sheet of paper from the deputy’s hand and held it high. ‘We don’t just have the authority to stop this. We are compelled to. By the laws of what is right, by our duty to this boy’s very soul. I command you to stop this.’ He looked at the deputy. ‘Immediately.’

  The deputy wouldn’t meet his eye. ‘He has two minutes.’

  The lawyer gave a nod to his men, but Garter stepped forward. ‘I wouldn’t do that, friends. There are three officers present who would happily see your asses in jail.’

  The men looked at their boss. The lawyer’s face was reddening with anger but he waved them back. ‘Very well,’ he said, bitter. ‘Two minutes. Not a second more.’

  ‘David,’ said Jonah. ‘They’re giving us a little time. Not long. Tell me what you can about the person who attacked you.’

  ‘It was a young kid, eleven maybe. He pulled a knife, but all I had was sixteen dollars. He looked even more terrified than me. I gave it up. He wanted more, said he’d seen a phone. I was angry. I’d been thinking about my dad earlier, how much he’d done to hurt us all this time, how little he cared about me. How much he’d hurt my mom. She’d struggled for money all these years, but she’d got me that phone. For a moment I thought, fuck him, he can’t just take it, like my dad tries to take everything from us. But I knew that kind of anger was dangerous, it wasn’t worth the risk. So I reached to my back pocket and brought it round, ready to throw it at this stupid kid, but I moved too quickly. I saw panic in his eyes. He thought I’d gone for a weapon, and he’d reacted fast. I knew the knife had gone in deep. Then he saw the phone in my hand, and we both understood. He looked at me like he was lost. He ran. Just a scared kid.’ David stopped.

  From the moment he had started everyone else had been completely silent. The lawyer broke the spell. ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘You’ve had your time and more. Now stop this. Right this moment. Stop this.’ Impatient, he shook his head. ‘Very well.’

  The lawyer reached into a pocket and produced a pair of latex gloves. He put them on, Jonah watching with growing wariness. The man moved towards him and took hold of Jonah’s right wrist. Despite the gloves, chill flooded them
both; then he took hold of David’s wrist, the distaste of touching a corpse clear on the man’s face. He pulled, hard, trying to break the physical contact between reviver and subject. Trying to end the revival. Jonah held fast and the man pulled again.

  Jonah stood, keeping a tight hold of David’s hand, absolute rage in his eyes. ‘Take your hands off me!’ Jonah yelled, aware that he was using every ounce of strength he had to maintain contact with his subject. But the anger in Jonah’s voice had been enough to make the lawyer let go and step back, looking genuinely frightened.

  The man gathered himself and looked at the deputy. ‘He’s had his time, officer,’ he muttered. ‘Do your duty.’

  The deputy stepped forwards, looking almost ashamed. ‘He’s right, sir,’ he said to Jonah. ‘I have to ask you to stop.’

  Jonah took a breath. He nodded, sitting back down. ‘David,’ he said, his voice shaky. ‘It’s time to go now. Are you ready?’

  ‘Jonah, tell my mom again. I love her. I’m sorry. It was my fault, you see? Moving like I did. It was an accident, really. The kid was terrified, but I caused it.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, David.’ He glanced at the lawyer’s glaring face, then back to David’s. ‘It’s time.’

  There was a pause as David drew breath again. The lawyer was restless, but the rage in Jonah’s eyes must still have been plain to see. The man stayed where he was.

  ‘OK,’ said David. ‘Jonah, tell my mom again. Tell her I love her. Tell her to be happy.’

  Jonah smiled, and could see Katherine Leith smile too, her tears falling. He nodded. ‘She heard you, David. She loves you. Good luck.’ Jonah let go of David Leith’s hand and watched as the breath left the body, the chest sinking back down and becoming still. The corpse was just a corpse once more. He heard a sudden sob from Katherine, then he stood and turned to face the others in the room. The deputy was watching David’s body but the lawyer met Jonah’s eye with contempt. Jonah started to walk to the door. He needed air.

  ‘I hope you’re proud,’ said the lawyer.