A Few Words for the Dead (21 page)

‘I said get up!’ he shouted, stooping down and tugging at my coat to flip me over. I moved a little more easily than he would have expected, spinning around, the branch in my fist. I beat at his hand, sending the gun flying into the dirt. He was quick to respond, grabbing the branch and kicking out at me. I’d expected that and pushed the branch away, kicking at the leg he was using to balance himself. He fell backwards and I got up, looking around for the gun.

I saw it, perfect black in a small mound of snow and made for it even as he got up and threw himself at me. We both toppled to the ground, the gun still out of reach.

Again I tried to use our momentum to my advantage, continuing the roll in the earth rather than fighting against it so I ended up on top. I head-butted him in the face and brought my knee up between his legs. I felt sure poor Lucas would forgive me, after all, he’d intended visiting worse on himself.

I got to my feet, just managing to evade his grasp, and grabbed the gun, turning to point it at him.

‘And what are you going to do with that?’ he asked, chuckling. I’d broken his nose I think, blood dripping off his face to patter on the ground beneath him. ‘You’ve made it quite clear you have no intention of killing Mr Robie. Only one of us is willing to murder to get what they want, I think.’

After the fact, when that day in Berlin was long behind me, I thought of lots of things I could, and should, have done. Isn’t that always the way? Going over and over missions, especially the ones that didn’t go our way, and seeing the alternatives that didn’t occur to us at the time. If we didn’t do it then our superiors certainly would, because it’s easy to plot a perfect mission from behind your desk, when the adrenalin’s not making your brain scream and you’re not shaking with fear and anger. When you know all the facts, can look at everything in a cold and analytical manner, the best route is simple. When you’re in the thick of it, it’s often a case of doing the first thing to pop into your head.

I punched him as hard as I could, knocking him out, slung him over my shoulder and carried on the way I had been running. I figured that if the host was unconscious then the problem was – at least for the moment – solved.

But of course, the forest was filled with potential hosts. It could have chosen that moment to leap back into me, surely the simplest response. Perhaps, like me, it was wired and high on the chase. Perhaps it just decided the alternative was more fun.

‘Hey!’ shouted Jan as I approached the homeless camp. ‘You found him, then?’

Kurt stared at him, clearly having his suspicions proved with regards to how Jan had really earned his money from me.

‘I did,’ I replied, stumbling into the camp and dropping Lucas to the ground, ‘and I’m still trying to help him. I need something to tie him up.’

‘Why bother?’ said one of the other homeless, a young woman, head shaved but for a thin strip of bleached stubble that ran down the centre. ‘I’ll only untie him.’

‘Or I will,’ laughed Karin.

‘Or me,’ said another, a cheap tattoo of a rose blooming across his cheek.

‘Maybe I’ll do it,’ admitted Kurt.

‘And if they don’t,’ added Jan, ‘then I certainly will.

It was leaping from one of them to the next, hopping between host bodies at the speed of thought. I had surrounded myself with potential enemies.

I held up the gun.

‘Again?’ Karin laughed, though the rest looked frightened. ‘Even if I thought you would be willing to shoot an innocent you’ll have to ask them nicely to line up. You only have three bullets left.’

‘And I can move like lightning!’ said Jan, hopping into the air like a ballerina, much to the surprise of the others.

‘And you’ll always be too slow,’ said Rose Tattoo, snatching at the gun with his left hand and punching me with his right. I fought him off but only because the controlling power had already moved on to the skinhead, who was now behind me, choking me with her arm. I dropped forward and threw her over my shoulder, straightening up just in time to receive a kick to the cheek from Karin. This time I did lose the gun, my head sparking with white light as her boot connected with my face.

‘And I’ll always win,’ said Lucas, awake now and picking up the gun. He dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out more cartridges, reloading the pistol.

‘Because…’ shouted Jan.

‘I…’ added Karin.

‘Am…’ said the skinhead.

‘Better…’ said Kurt.

‘Than…’ offered Rose Tattoo.

‘You,’ finished Lucas, turning the gun on each of them in turn.

He shot Jan, then Rose Tattoo. The skinhead tried to run but she got hers in the back, crashing face down into the fire. Karin wailed, stumbling back over her small pile of belongings before a bullet took out one of her few remaining teeth en route to more vital areas. Kurt just stared, old and weary enough to see there was no point in running. He sat back on his bench and awaited the inevitable. But it didn’t come, because then Lucas turned the gun on me and pressed the trigger.

I lost consciousness again for a while, coming around to a blurred vision of the trees above me. All black. Jagged lines and shadow. A searing glimpse of white poking through, tiny pinpricks of light.

My belly felt cold and, when I tried to sit up, I found it impossible.

Slowly, I touched my stomach and felt the wet blood from the stomach wound. Touching it was remote and confusing, as if it couldn’t possibly be me that was lying on his back in the snow, dying by degrees. It was, of course. A part of me knew that, but the rest of me couldn’t countenance it. It couldn’t accept that all this would finish with Lucas running away and me a freezing corpse beneath East Berlin trees.

Had Lucas run? I tried to look but I could barely move. The most I could manage was to turn my head a few degrees to either side. One way, there lay Jan, his young face a dumb model of vacancy, spittle on his lips and nothing behind the eyes. Looking the other way, I saw Kurt, sitting on his bench drinking from a bottle of vodka. I wished he’d share.

‘He’s gone,’ Kurt said, answering my question. ‘Took off into the trees. Laughing. Bastard.’ He took another drink. ‘I don’t think much of that friend of yours. Knew he was trouble.’

‘Not my friend,’ I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. ‘Just someone wearing his body.’

Kurt stared at me for a moment then shook his head. ‘And I thought I’d seen some crazy shit.’ He looked at his bottle. ‘See all manner of things when the drink’s on me.’

‘I don’t suppose…’ I stared at the bottle. He looked at it, judging how much he had left. He sighed, not really wanting to part with it but not willing to refuse the last wish of a dying man either. He nodded, moved over to me, lifted my head slightly and poured some into my mouth. ‘Cheap shit,’ he said. ‘That’s the best in this weather.’

The alcohol tore through me and I coughed, dimly aware of a pounding response in my stomach. Kurt stared at the wound and I realised it had probably spurted as I’d coughed.

‘Maybe that’s not a good idea,’ he said, with an element of relief. He returned to his bench, wiped the neck of the bottle with his filthy hand – the absurdity of which was not beyond me, even then – and took another good mouthful himself. He didn’t cough – Kurt was immune to the fiery ravages of cheap vodka.

‘I won’t lie to you,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think you’re going to be leaving this place.’

‘No,’ I agreed, ‘I think you’re probably right.’

‘Sorry about that, but you’ll not die alone. It’s a crowd of you that are taking the trip today.’ He looked around at the dead bodies of his friends. ‘I didn’t like them much but they were better than nothing. Sleeping out here on your own is no good, no good at all.’ He took another drink.

I may have passed out again then. My memory is vague, I wasn’t at my best. The next thing I knew was that Kurt was smiling at me. Except, of course, it wasn’t Kurt.

‘Just thought I’d see how you’re doing,’ he said. ‘Still with us, then?’

‘Shouldn’t you be keeping your eye on Lucas?’ I asked.

‘Where’s he going to go that I won’t find him? I have plans for Mr Robie but they can wait a few minutes.’

‘Just long enough for you to watch me die. How nice.’

‘I enjoy it,’ he admitted, scratching at his beard. ‘This one is full of life. He has whole nations thriving on him.’ He tried the vodka and smiled. ‘I see why he drinks. You nearly dead?’

I couldn’t really see the point in replying, but then half an idea occurred to me.

I said before how the really good ideas often never occur to you in time to be of much use. I’ve had my moments, I certainly wouldn’t still be here otherwise, and some of my ideas can be very good indeed. This wasn’t one of them. It was, however, better than nothing, though I’ve come to wonder about that since. I think, on balance, what I did was for the best, however much I’ve since regretted it.

‘Of course,’ I said, ‘you could probably stop me dying.’

‘Really? How do you figure that?’

‘Just a guess. You obviously have a degree of control over your hosts. Grauber should never have been able to stay alive as long as he did, his body a ball of flame. And how about Anosov? How many bullets did it take to finally drop him? Too many. I think it more likely that he went down only because you were happy to allow it.’

He nodded. ‘Meat is easy,’ he admitted. ‘I have my limits: I can’t raise the dead, but I can fix a fair bit. Yes, you’re probably right. I probably could heal you. Here’s the more important question though: why would I want to?’

‘Because only an idiot doesn’t have a back-up plan,’ I said. ‘You’re pinning all your hopes on Lucas, but what if he never agrees to let you have his body?’

‘He will.’

‘But what if he won’t? Why take the risk?’

‘Be clear. What are you proposing? You don’t have long enough to be longwinded.’

‘Heal me,’ I said. ‘Make me live, and I’ll promise you my body.’

‘Just like that? What would be in it for you?’

‘Well, obviously, you couldn’t have it straight away; we’d have to come to an agreement as to when you could take it. Let’s say the next time I’m mortally wounded.’

‘Make a habit of that, do you?’

‘I do enjoy a risky lifestyle. I’m not fixing a time on it – you’ll have to take the gamble. But the next time I’m in this position, with no more chance of survival… well, I’m going to die anyway, so why not? You can jump in, make me better and keep the body for your trouble. What have I got to lose?’

‘Not much,’ he admitted. ‘It’s not a great deal for me.’

‘No, I don’t suppose it is. But it’s a gamble, isn’t it? I could be on the brink of death this time tomorrow or years from now, who’s to say? Why not? It’s not like you’re losing on the deal, either. You have a guaranteed body at some point in the future: mine. Considering Lucas has flat-out refused you, it’s the best offer you’ve had so far. And if you do possess Lucas then…’ It was getting difficult to speak now, the cold seeping into me and making my teeth chatter. ‘Well, if you do, you do. You still win.’ I decided there was no harm in pandering to his ego. ‘Of course, if you’re worried that I’m a threat?’

‘A threat?’ he laughed.

‘Well, that’s the only reason I can think of for why you’d refuse. You must think that if you let me live I’ll be able to stop you. Perhaps I will. Yes… I suppose that’s what it is. You want me out of your way.’

‘Out of my way?’ He was suddenly furious. ‘You? You’re nothing to me! Any of you! How can you even dream of being better than me?’

Well, I might have said, you do seem to be going to a lot of effort to become like us. But that would hardly have helped my cause. I remained silent.

‘Fine,’ he said, crouching down next to me, ‘I’ll take your deal. But a deal is a deal, understand that, yes? This is not something you go back on. I will have you one day. I will wear your body as my own. That is the agreement.’

‘Yes.’ I could no longer say any more than that, I was fading now. If he wasn’t quick about it then the whole conversation was going to be redundant.

‘And if you think you’ve got what it takes,’ he said, and, in the disorientation, focusing on his words made the world spin, ‘come and find me later. We’ll be at home.’

I closed my eyes and I felt the cold become total. First the darkness, then nothing. In that moment I believed he had left it too late. I honestly thought that my fading consciousness was death. But then life returned, and by God it hurt. I couldn’t imagine what the sensation would have been like had I been in my body when he’d worked his magic – this was the aftershock, the tail-end of creation, and it was more than I thought I could bear. Nerves firing in confusion, rebelling at the new flesh.

I screamed and screamed until my throat was so hoarse all I could do was push out pained air.

I felt someone grabbing me and I realised it was Kurt when he spoke.

‘Just go!’ he was shouting, assuming I was in the middle of a death agony. ‘Christ Jesus, let him just go!’

I managed to open my eyes a fraction, just in time to see him pick up a rock. Dear God, he meant to try and put me out of my misery. With considerable effort, I forced out words: ‘No! Wait…’ Extending my hand towards him, not able to fight him off but hopefully enough to give him pause.

Suddenly the pain became nausea and I found I was able to move, rolling in the dirt and vomiting. Time and again my guts rebelled, contorting and spewing bile into the leaves beside me. Then, finally, it passed and I was left, utterly exhausted, drained but alive.

I lay there for a few minutes more then found the strength to sit up, if only to make sure Kurt didn’t try and brain me with a rock again.

He was sat on his bench, crossing himself.

‘Drink?’ I said, wiping my mouth.

He tipped the empty bottle up. ‘You kidding? You made me drink it all.’

I made him. Yes. Just by having the audacity to survive.

‘Wait a minute,’ he said, getting up and moving over to where Karin lay dead amongst her belongings. ‘Maybe she had…’ He moved her out of the way and began ferreting through her possessions, rising triumphant with a small bottle of whisky. I suppose, for Kurt, principles were all well and good until you got really thirsty. He took a long drink and then offered the bottle to me, at which point I proved myself as bad as him by taking it.