The Physics Of The Dead - A Supernatural Mystery Novel (15 page)

It's not something crazily big after all. It's the other end of the scale entirely. Every cell of his body, every instinct in his mind now KNOWS this, as certain as anything he has ever known in his life, and he knows this because he is rushing into it, stretching away into it. It’s too big to comprehend, NO, not too big, too NOT-big, too NOT there, it's a nothingness so all-encompassing that if he understood even a fraction of it then his mind would cease to exist.

It's oblivion, and Bowler is on a speeding train heading straight toward it.

It's the worst thing he will ever know.

Bowler's eyes roll over and-with a horror that takes a piece of him that never will return-he unlocks, he lets go.

***

Hart caught up with Bowler in seconds, just as the
Bluey
stopped outside the newsagents next to the cobbler's, fiddling in her purse for something. She hadn't gotten far; the two had sat in shock for only milliseconds, and she hadn't been walking at any particular pace.

This
Bluey
was a woman in her mid-50s, well dressed, probably on her way to work. Sensible skirt with black boots, matching a short black suede jacket. Dark, greying hair, worn short, revealing a pair of stud earrings. High features that, though still elegant and attractive, would have turned many more heads 20 years ago.

But neither man gave Shit One about any of that. All they cared about was the pale blue glow all around her. Seeing it up close was a breathless revelation for Hart. He could barely keep himself under control, for here was
change
, here was only the second new thing to happen to his world since he'd arrived, the first being tuning in permanently with Bowler. It was a hint, a clue, a way of
understanding
.  It was the single most exciting thing he had ever seen. Had he looked down, he would have noticed that his self-control had disappeared so much that his feet had sunk into the concrete.

The blue aura was constant; there was no flicker, no parts where it was stronger than others. It was completely even, and though the colour itself was pale, it had strength, a thickness to it that was unmistakable. It made no sound, and to Hart it looked like it was made of some magic, solid plastic that could move in whatever manner the woman did. Aura wasn't even the right word; that was the first one that came to mind, the first word to describe light around a person. It wasn't a glow; it had an edge. A clear, definable edge, an 
outline
. It was more like a blue
layer
, hovering just above her skin and clothes.

Both Hart and Bowler moved slowly and simultaneously, reaching out their right hands to touch it. They caught each other’s eyes as they did so, and Bowler looked for approval, despite the fact that his hand kept going. Hart nodded, looking into Bowler's wide eyed expression with a matching one of his own. Bowler was clearly shocked and excited, but despite this, Hart could see the younger man was taken aback by seeing Hart looking the same way. Understandable, though Hart. There'd never been a moment when Hart had seen anything like this, had felt like this, so God knew he must look different. He felt like his legs were going to give out under him, his chest rising and falling at breakneck speed as he took rapid imaginary breaths. He was so light headed he thought he might faint-even though he knew it was impossible here-and as he looked back at the
Bluey
, seeing his hand about to touch one, to TOUCH AN ACTUAL
BLUEY
, he thought he may finally
Go
Loose when his fingers reached it.

Their hands met the blue edge and passed straight through, as if they'd misjudged the distance and it had only looked like they were close enough to touch. No resistance, not even a breeze. The blue layer didn't even colour their hands once they went through it; they seemed to be above it, even though Hart could clearly see his hand had gone in. To Bowler, it was exactly the same as when you went to see a movie in 3D, and grabbed for whatever you saw. Your hand was in it, and yet over it at the same time. Touching the blue light was like a bizarre optical illusion.

Hart's disappointment was like a knife in his lungs. He didn't know what he'd expected-and hadn't
really
expected a revelation-but there was always that chance, that possibility that there would have been a shock, a vision, some sort of connection to something bigger. And in the end it was so insubstantial that the disappointment wasn't worth it. Without realising, Hart’s hand dropped and he slumped slightly.

No. That was no way to think. Any second the
Bluey
might walk right out of the Foyer-there was no way she lived within it, she was old and Hart would have seen her before now if she did-and they had to make the most of this. Think objectively. Look for clues. Focus.

Bowler was still passing his hand in and out of the blue layer, watching it. He hadn't been here long enough to realise how incredible being this close to one was, and perhaps it was this that meant he was actually one step ahead of Hart in figuring out possibilities for learning.

We need to follow her to The Wall. See what happens when she passes through. And maybe we can communicate with her!

He assumed Hart already thinking this. Bowler put his hand back in the blue and spoke.

“Lady! Hey, Lady! Can you hear me?”

Hart almost slapped himself on the head. Of course! He did the same, using both hands after seeing Bowler get nothing from his one-handed effort. The
Bluey
finally found what she was rummaging for-a small black mobile phone-and began to dial.

“Miss! Miss! Hello!” Yelled Hart. Nothing. Louder. “MISS!! HELLO!! HELLO, CAN YOU HEAR US!!” Bowler joined in, this time stepping bodily into the blue, half into the
Bluey's
body, ignoring the unpleasantness, and yelling at the top of his lungs into her head.

“
AAAH
! LADY!! HEY, HEY!!
AAAAH
!!” Hart dived in too, and now his and Bowler's foreheads were touching in the middle of the
Bluey's
skull.

“
MIIIIIISSSSS
!!!
YAAAAAA
!!
YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAAAAAA
!!!!!”

A horrible feeling of desperation overtook them as the shouting continued, both of them hoping they were shouting to be heard by anyone that might finally save them.

They stood there for the duration of the woman's conversation (all ten minutes of it, while she discussed what exactly to get Lisa for her birthday, as she didn't want to spoil her even though Lisa was Sarah's first, and not wanting to outshine whatever Sarah got her, as they're not as flush since Steven lost his job) all the while unaware of the two screaming men inside her head. Men losing that little bit more of whatever hope they had left, and doing so with their eyes shut lest the other's gaze confirm that they both knew it.

Hart gave up first, stepping back and turning away so Bowler could not see the tears, nor the way he was screwing up his face painfully in an attempt to stop them. He bit his teeth together with vicious force.

Bowler stopped when Hart stopped, stepping back quietly, head down. He knew something had happened quickly there, and something had gotten out of hand. He was embarrassed and didn't really understand why. He knew Hart was too; that's why Hart was stood with his back to him, now with his hands on his hips, breathing heavily. Bowler was struck by the last time he'd felt that desperation.
Suzie, please, let's talk properly, I'll talk properly, I won't shout again, PLEASE.
He pushed it away as best he could; he was confused enough as it was.

Bowler decided to let Hart decide what to do next, unless the
Bluey
moved. This was still too precious to let go, and he knew Hart knew it too. This became more evident a split second later, when, as they heard the
Bluey
close her phone with a snap, Hart whipped round, red-eyed, and pointed.

“We'll follow,” he said, quietly. “Eventually, she'll reach The Wall.” Bowler nodded, silently. Hart continued speaking, unconsciously adjusting his suit, composing himself as his mind searched for more ideas, more possibilities. Bowler realised what seemed to be at stake now. He almost wished the
Bluey
had never turned up. If she left The Foyer and they gleaned nothing from their experience with her...

They started to follow the
Bluey
as she walked through the small archway by the cobbler's place, into the tiny plaza beyond, that led onto the Bull Yard, and an idea seized Hart.

We'll try and be INSIDE the blue when she passes through the wall! Perhaps-

And a terrible fear gripped him as he thought it. He'd been on The Train, just like Bowler. He'd felt what lay beyond The Wall. What if he was right, and by being in the blue they could get through...and that was all that was there? That leaving the Foyer through The Wall meant that was what you got? That by breaking through The Wall and not by going some other way that you found yourself in oblivion, sucked away into that ultimate nothing? No matter how bad things ever were in here, that was just...but then again, perhaps, if you went through with a
Bluey
,
in
the blue, you went somewhere else-

That was when Hart noticed Bowler had stopped dead behind the newsagents, slightly crouched, looking straight ahead. Even with his mind swirling with ideas and possibilities, he thought this annoyingly odd. What on earth was Bowler doing? Here they were, with the biggest potential breakthrough of Hart's entire afterlife, and not only was Bowler not following, he was actually just stood still like a dimwit! He opened his mouth to vent his frustration-for here was the perfect opportunity to release some of the tension he felt-when he saw a woman, a middle aged early commuter in a thick black fleece, Pass Through Bowler without Bowler even trying to get out of the way.
What on earth?

As he looked at Bowler incredulously, he noticed the look in Bowler's eyes for the first time, and saw the terrified expression on his face. Bowler was scared; he was scared of the
Bluey
? Hart then properly noticed Bowler's body language. Not just stood still; frozen.

Bowler was trying not to move. Trying not to be seen.

What the blazes was going on? He took a step forward, and froze himself as Bowler's eyes widened almost comically and darted towards him, accompanied by an almost imperceptible shake of the head. At that moment-even before Bowler's darting, gesturing eyes told him to look behind him-the penny finally dropped, horribly, and Hart felt his scalp and testicles tighten with fear as he realised what was going on. Of course. They were in deep, deep,
deep
trouble. Never the less, Hart turned his head extremely slowly over his right shoulder. That would be where the danger was. To his right, and slightly behind. On the other side of the square; he would have been too busy watching the
Bluey
to see.

He looked across to the corner of the deserted plaza and found-terribly-that he was right. There, so big and dark as to look almost superimposed against the glass front of the cafe,
impossibly
huge, completely at odds with the mundane surroundings, stood the Beast.

It saw them.

***

Bowler awakes to an indescribable pain. So intense that all thought is blocked out. He cannot form coherent thoughts. All he is aware of is a few, basic things.

The pain.

He cannot feel his body.

He cannot see.

He cannot think properly.

And some part of his brain registers through the agony that he must be back in the cloud, but different, some sort of pain cloud. There was pain on the train. The train. He was on the train. That hurt more than this. This is very bad, but the train was worse.

He still cannot see. When he hears the voice, he understands what it says, but does not consider or assess the words, because he simply can’t. The words simply are what they are.

“Hello Bowler. Sorry it took me so long to get here. I don't know what I was thinking.”