The Dead Have No Shadows (16 page)

“You’ve said that before,” said Mickey.  “Just how much help are you really allowed to give me ... us?”

Pester wiped his greasy fingers on the ground.

“I’m only supposed to guide you along your way,” he said.  “I can advise and encourage but I can’t give you any material help in any way.”

“Like making spoons for us?” said Elena.

Pester shrugged and nodded but didn’t speak.

“Then why help us now?” probed Mickey.

This time Pester just shrugged.  Something didn’t feel right about this particular task.  He wasn’t sure what it was but it was gnawing away at the back of his mind.  Pester didn’t want to voice his concerns though.  The road ahead would be challenging enough for Mickey and Elena without him scaring them for possibly no reason. 

Pester poked the fire and added more wood.  He was concerned that the flames would act as a signal to where they were camped – but he suspected that they would be discovered anyway.  Without any weapons, the fire would be their only means of defence.

 “It’s getting late,” he said.  “You both need to rest.  Especially you,
Laddie
.  That wound’s going to weaken you.  Sleep now, both of you.  I’ll keep watch tonight.”

Mickey was surprised by this offer.  Pester hadn’t offered to stand guard on his first night here; even with the wild animals lurking about.  So as not to concern Elena, he decided not to pursue the issue.

Elena hadn’t brought any kind of bedding so Mickey gave her his jacket as a pillow.  He then wedged himself into a hollow between a couple of rocks.  Pester climbed to a higher point on the platform and sat facing the direction they had come from.  He held his head cocked to one side as if listening for the approach of someone or something.

Elena lay watching Mickey as he settled himself down for the night.  She still couldn’t believe her good fortune that someone had come along to help her fulfil her destiny.  Though she wasn’t really interested, it was a bonus that he was such a good looking boy.  A smile played on Elena’s lips as she imagined how things might have been if she had met Mickey Raymond in the living world.  The smile was still there when sleep folded her into its arms.

Mickey’s leg kept him awake for most of the night.  He was aware of Pester moving about from time to time and could hear Elena’s breathing become slower and shallower as sleep claimed her.  Sleep must also have stolen up un-noticed too because the next time Mickey opened his eyes the dawn had arrived.  And so had someone else.

A man with dirty blonde hair and wearing sunglasses, despite the early hour, was standing by the embers of the camp fire.  Mickey recognised the newcomer immediately.  He was about to get to his feet when he felt a blade pressed against his throat.  Mickey turned his head slightly to get a look at the carrier of the weapon and instantly wished that he hadn’t.  His assailant looked vaguely human but the skin on both face and hands was thin, drawn and colourless, with a translucency about it.  The creature wore an expression of unmitigated misery and despair.

Mr Jolly walked over and squatted in front of Mickey.  He spoke to the knife bearer in some foul guttural voice.  The blade was removed from Mickey’s throat but remained close enough for the wielder to strike if Mickey made an unwanted move.

“Hello Mickey,” Mr Jolly said pleasantly in a plumy public school voice.  “You have been a very naughty boy and have caused me a great many problems.”

Mickey noticed some injuries to Mr. Jolly’s face that looked to be fresh.  He looked around for Pester.  His guide was pinned face down on the ground by two more of the pale skinned creatures.  Another two of Mr. Jolly’s minions were holding Elena.  She was struggling to get free but, despite their frail appearance, her guards were too strong for her.  One had a hand over Elena’s mouth to prevent her from screaming.  Mickey felt outrage and disgust at the thought of something so foul touching Elena at all, let alone having a hand over her mouth.  Mr. Jolly watched Mickey with a look of unmitigated pleasure on his face.

“Pretty is she not?” he said, glancing over at Elena.  “But you should have left her back in
Koprno
.  She would have been safe there.  Now though, because you have taken a shine to her, she is going to have to come with me.  Sadly, she will have to face a fate far worse than sitting in the sun waiting for a band that will never play.”

Mr. Jolly landed a slap across Mickey’s face.  It wasn’t a playful slap but one with venom that made Mickey’s cheek sting.

“Now, if you are a very good boy and make the right choices you might get to see your little girlfriend again before the end.”

Mr. Jolly grabbed Mickey’s face and squeezed.  The pleasant look on the fake hippy’s face belied the violence behind his grip on Mickey.

“I actually do not care either way.  If you decide to mess with me I would be just as happy to cut her time short and make a shrine of her bones in the dirtiest little hole I can find. 

“There is not going to be a door for you.  One way or another, you are going to decide to come below with me.  Whether your little girlfriend comes with you or goes onto her destiny in the sand is entirely up to you.  When the time is right I will be back to hear your decision and collect you.”

Mr. Jolly growled something and the knife was back at Mickey’s throat.  The John Lennon look-a-like climbed to his feet and walked over to where Pester lay.  He drove a kick into
Pester’s
ribs.

“Up you get, lazy bones,” he said.

Pester’s
two guards stood to one side allowing Mickey’s guide to stand up.  He took in the situation and froze.

“Very wise my friend,” Mr. Jolly said.  “Alas you fell asleep on the job; and now your young friend here is going to have to pay.”

Mr. Jolly walked all the way round Pester, savouring the moment.

“She was one of yours was not she?”  Mr. Jolly indicated Elena.  “So, not only have you failed to help her reach the end, you are going to have to watch while her boyfriend condemns himself to a long walk in the dark.”

“Don’t be so sure Jolly,” spat Pester.  “Our young friend isn’t what he seems.”

“Do you really think so?”  Mr. Jolly eyed Mickey and then Pester with suspicion.  He knew Pester well.  They were old sparring partners in the realm between life and what lay beyond.  They normally held a mutual, detached respect and didn’t involve themselves with one another’s work. 

One of
Pester’s
characteristics was that he wasn’t one for lying or exaggeration.  He was the reticent sort.  If he didn’t want to tell you something he would remain silent.  Mr. Jolly though, revelled in the art of deceit and deception.  He would quite happily send someone down blind alleys just for sport.  And then there was the fact that Mr. Jolly’s masters had not been pleased that he hadn’t been able to secure Mickey at the point of death.  It was also odd that he and Pester had been sent to the other side to collect Mickey.  It was customary to wait for the deceased to bridge over and then pick them up.  Did Pester know something?  He wouldn’t admit it even if he did.  No matter, Mr Jolly had got the girl and that gave him a lot of leverage.  He would have a little sport with Mickey Raymond before the end.

“You think that he is special do you?” Mr. Jolly asked Pester.  “We cannot have that.  I like a bit of a challenge, but I always like to have the upper hand.  And I never like to lose”

Mr. Jolly walked over to where Mickey was sitting and stamped on the injured thigh.

“A little something for you to think about,” he said with a snarl.

Mickey howled and writhed in agony and Elena squirmed and squealed.  Mr. Jolly snapped off another instruction to Mickey’s guard then turned back to Pester.

“Do not think about doing anything silly, old sport,” he said.  “It would be such a waste.  You did your best but I am going to win this time.  There will be others, thousands of them.  Live to fight another day, eh what?”

He barked an order at the two creatures holding Elena and then climbed down from the small plateau.  Elena was thrown down to the ground and the two creatures jumped down after her.

“You fell asleep?” Mickey snarled at Pester.  “You said you’d stand guard.  You haven’t done that before.  You must have known something was wrong yet you fell asleep.”

“Aye, I did,” Pester replied bitterly.  He was angry but it wasn’t aimed at Mickey.  “It was starting to get light and I thought we’d be ok by then.  So I took a wee nap.  They must’ve been watching and waiting.”

“So what do we do now?” Mickey asked.

Pester edged closer to Mickey and the creature Mr. Jolly had left behind responded by placing the blade across Mickey’s throat.

Pester sighed.  “We have to distract him.  He indicated Mickey’s captor, “He’s had his instructions and will sit there now till the end of time.  He’ll not get bored and he’ll not get tired.”

“Have you got any ideas?”

“Keep talking,” Pester answered in his usual cryptic fashion.  “One of us needs to keep him occupied while the other one gets that blade off him.”

“Won’t Mr. Jolly be long gone by the time we manage that?” said Mickey.  He wanted to massage the throb in his thigh but was careful not to move too much in case the thing holding the knife at his throat got jumpy.

“Don’t worry about Mr. Jolly, he won’t have gone far,” said Pester.  “You heard what he said.  He’s going to be waiting for you along the way."

Though Mickey had never been religious the prospect of a fire and brimstone end to his existence was one he didn’t care to think about.  He tried to change the subject.

“What are these things?”  He gave a sideways glanced at thing holding the knife to his throat.

“
Wights
,” Pester replied.  “Corpses with scraps of their rotting soul remaining.”

The creature that had once been a person was slowly looking from Mickey to Pester as the conversation bounced between the traveller and his guide.

“Does it understand what we’re saying?” asked Mickey.

“No.  Any human language they had is gone,” Pester replied.

Mickey turned his head to the creature again.

“You’re an ugly fucker aren’t you,” he said.

The Wight stared at Mickey without seeming to see him and uttered some incomprehensible sound.  Pester took a few more steps, un-noticed by the creature.

“Your friend, Mr. Jolly said something about doors,” Mickey said to Pester.  “What did he mean?”

While Mickey watched his captor for signs of a reaction Pester closed the gap even further.

“It’s you final choice,” Pester replied.

The Wight slowly swivelled its head round in the direction of
Pester’s
voice.  Pester froze, waiting to see if the creature realised that he was much closer.  The Wight just looked miserable.

“At the start of your journey there were a handful of doors waiting for you at the end of your journey.  Behind each door was a future for your soul.  Some would be good, others would be less so.

“As you go along the doors start to disappear.  Which ones go depends on your reasons for doing the things you did in your life and the decisions you make now.”

“And what if there isn’t a door waiting for me?” said Mickey.

“There will be,” Pester replied.  “There is always one – and only one.  Your final decision is really whether to go through it or not.”

The exchange of words had kept Mickey’s foul guard mildly occupied which had allowed Mickey the chance to feel around with his left hand for something he could use as a weapon.  His hand closed around a rock about the size of a house brick.  He teased it loose of the earth and checked that he could lift it.