The Physics Of The Dead - A Supernatural Mystery Novel (34 page)

Bowler did.
You want to be fully aware of just how much you enjoy killing me. But how the hell do you do it? Did you develop that as well? How? Keep him TALKING.
The natural next question came easily, because he so desperately wanted to know.

“So Hart was wrong? If you've been here six hundred years, I mean, people's time here doesn't run out? Mark and George were killed...and you killed them...”

The Beast suddenly roared with laughter, clapping his hands rapidly, like a delighted child. But he never took his gaze off Bowler, who could feel it upon him like a steel trap.

“Ah, yes, yes, Hart's 'theory' yes? I did like that. I listened, you know. Sometimes...when I try very, very hard, and I am not...other. When I am as I am now...I can listen. Listen from far away. I can listen to anyone here, you know. I can listen like I talk. I have learned so many things. Like your friend learned to be stronger. That was the first thing I learned. And I learned to be stronger still. Then bigger. Then many more things.”

“But we hid from you that time-”

“When you escaped from me once? I remember this. I was...other, then. I could not...listen, properly. To find you. Alas, even when I am as I am now, I cannot always listen. And even then, I become...other, and get...distracted, you see. So I very, very, very, very rarely hunt that way. But I
am
getting better with this. Over time. Getting quicker. And I have so much time. Soon I will be able to hunt this way whenever I like.” That low, low chuckle again, dark and sinister.

Bowler pushed the idea from his mind, and tried to focus on his only course of action; to keep asking the questions that came naturally, and wait for another lockdown.  He opened his mouth without knowing what he was going to say, but then The Beast continued talking.

“But as for Hart's 'theory'? This place ending, people dying...You actually believed that, did you not? Yes, you did.”

Bowler just stared at him, stunned. Was this just crazy talk?

“He did a good job, I thought so. When I practised, practised my listening, a long way away, and listened to you many times. Many times. I thought Hart did a perfect balancing act. Keeping you off the...
scent
...of the truth...but making sure his companion was still there, still with him, but not a threat. Very clever. Clever Hart.”

“But...the truth is...you killed them. Why would he want to-”

“I have learned many, many things in my time here. But I have not found a way to kill what you call Guests. No. I have never learned this. Why would I kill my own toys? How can you kill what is already dead? There is no way to kill a Guest. You
cannot
kill a ghost.”

“But Mark and George-”

“They were never killed. They got what they wanted.”

***

What he'd seen, and what he hadn't told Bowler...

It lasts about ten seconds, and it means everything.

It is a
news
feature about a government initiative for poorer families, or something like that; Hart hasn't seen the start of it, so he can't get the whole story. It doesn't matter. He does know that it's being trialled in Leeds. Far away from Coventry. That in itself will be fascinating to Hart later, more potential layers to how it all works. But right now what
does
matter is the woman on the screen. The woman being interviewed in her living room as part of one of those 'voices of the public' montages. The woman sat in her living room with her son. The woman's son. The woman's SON. The ten year old boy sat surrounded in a blue glow.

A
Bluey
, yes, but a different
Bluey
than ever before. A
Bluey
Hart recognises. A
Bluey
that is clearly George as a ten year old boy.

Not only can Hart see it is, but he can
feel
it is. The ten year old boy sat awkwardly by his mother in a
hoodie
and jeans, clearly not wanting to be filmed, red with embarrassment, looking anywhere but at the camera.
That boy is George.
It radiates from the screen at Hart, and he doesn't know how, but he can
feel
it in every
fiber
of his being, which would be more than enough even if the kid wasn't the spitting image of George. Plus his mannerisms, the way he sits, the way he occasionally fiddles with his right ear…it is GEORGE.

He wasn't killed, thinks Hart. He wasn't
killed!
He got out, he got another go around! He got out. He got out!! Simon was right! I was right! And he not only got out...he got to LIVE!! And he falls backwards, onto the floor, his legs giving out. .

His mind whirls. George heard the theory, tried it first. Mark saw it...Mark must have been there...but only saw what was left behind. Saw the...corpse? Shell? Skin? Who knew what it was, who knew what the Guests were actually comprised of. After all, they could touch other, couldn't they? So no matter what, be it on a different plane to the living, they had a physical presence, and George had left his behind when he moved on. Fine. But how would you react to that? Being Mark, trying your theory for escape, and seeing what looked for all the world like a dead body as a result? Seeing that crumbling, powdery corpse, but with no proof that anything had happened other than George being wiped out? No...it wouldn't be enough. Not after feeling the oblivion of the train...you wouldn't risk that after seeing a corpse, for goodness sake. No, Mark wouldn't dare, and neither would Hart. But after a while...five years, in fact...after more years of it, of going that much more Loose, and then finding a chance, a potential door...you wouldn't risk waiting for another one. Mark took it, out of desperation and fear.

And now Hart would take his chance, now he KNOWS-finally-that it works, that he has nothing to fear. This means not only can he get out, but he finally knows he
can
take it safely. Because Hart's fear has held him prisoner for 70 years, and for all of his qualities, Hart is a coward. Especially after touching oblivion, and knowing-from the Flyers-that there must be some alternatives. Bowler has come to realise this about Hart, and this is why things have changed. That and Bowler's own mind. But Bowler cannot know this truth, must be led down a path of thought that will ensure he never reaches the theory that Simon did. Bowler must be told lies. Bowler must be kept away from stumbling upon this idea at all costs. For when Hart gets his chance, when he finds it, there may only be
one
chance, and Bowler must not know. There must be no chance of Bowler taking it. Bowler must not be there when it is time to take the exit. When the time is right, Hart must leave Bowler alone. If anyone is to get out, it is to be Hart.

***

“You have never met Simon, have you?” asked The Beast. It sounded strangely like a genuine question. Bowler didn't have a clue what he was on about. Was this the beginning of some sort of sick game? Was Simon some sort of term for...something else?
Sweet Jesus, I hope not,
thought Bowler.
That would really be the icing on the fucking cake.

“I...can't say I have...”

“Yes, yes, I know you have not. Sometimes I...do not remember things, but they always come in the end. He got here a year before Hart did, you know. They were easily the two arrivals that came closest together. Easily. I think in Hart's time, there has only been four, you know, including yourself. Your friends, George, Mark, and Sarah. Did it ever strike you as
odd
, so
odd
, that these ones are the only ones to spend time together, to go to each other, even if it hurts you a bit after a while? That unlike the others, you get together, despite the fact you get that
discomfort...
what do they know that you don't?”

Think, Bowler, talk!

“Is that why the others-the other Guests-is that why they go off alone? The discomfort?” asked Bowler, in the voice of a scared child.

“No, no, no
no
no
no
no
.
Of course not. You all need it, the talk, the endless...” The Beast waved one hand in the air, both searching for the word and dismissing the concept. “The endless
talk
, don't you? No. No. No. They simply made their choice, and off they went. They decide the risk is too great. They take their chances. They think they won't go Loose. But of course, beautifully, they always do.”

“But...but
why
? The risk of what? What do they risk by being together? Surely a bigger risk is going off alone, going Loose?” Bowler was torn inside; he wanted this question to shut The Beast down again, give him a window, but crazily, he needed to know,
had
to know.

There was a pause from The Beast-was he locking down?-but then a chuckle came from the huge silhouette.

“Because then someone else might
take
it. The partner, the friend, might take it. The opportunities are rare, so very rare...and when it comes to a choice between an eternity here and...
aheh
...the
politeness
of friendship, one may easily trick another, turn on another. Would
you
risk it, Bowler, if you knew? Faced with forever, and finding yourself standing with your friend before an exit that only one of you can take…would you expect them to say 'After You'?”

Bowler had no answer.

“And they've all been here so very long, the others...” said The Beast, “A very long time. It cycles, Bowler. They come, they get together, and one by one they work it out-they work out how to leave, though some take longer than others...and then they go off, desperate, to search alone...and then when more come, new arrivals, they arrive in a world where no-one speaks.” That chuckle again, that rumbling, terrible chuckle.

“And they either go Loose themselves, or-rarely-they manage to wait for other new arrivals, and form friends, and then they work it out and one by one...you understand, yes? Yes. It's a wonderful, unending circle.” The Beast straightened upright in the dark, and Bowler could see the outline of one enormous arm scratching the
neanderthal
head.

“Yes...and sometimes, sometimes I help out, Bowler. I prefer them Loose, you see. I just find them so much fun to
break
. The Loose ones. Ah, I love your phrases...Loose...no matter how many times I break someone, I cannot make them Loose. They always cling on. No, they have to go that way themselves. But even if I could, I would prefer to
help
them on their way. More fun. Like Simon. I made sure he heard me, that day. He thought he'd
over
heard me, but it was meant for him to hear. I made
sure
he found out how to do it. I could have waited, but he and Hart were together. I did not like that. I told him so he would go off. So he would leave Hart because of the risk, and then they would both sweetly, so
sweetly
, lose themselves. I sit, far away, and listen to them,
feel
them turning. And it's so...ah, so
good
...to know I was the voice in their ear that made them turn. They think it was good news, when they find out, or work it out.” There was a hissing, inward, rattling breath, like an old smoker's, as The Beast savoured the idea.

“But...then you came along. And Hart did something new, and you pair have intrigued me so ever since...” And then The Beast started to advance suddenly, and Bowler blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“But how are you not like the others? They've been here so long, longer than Hart, why aren't more of them more like you, rather than just crazy? Half the time you're a monster, but now you're thinking, talking, learning, and they're just Loose all the time!”

The Beast answered this with pride in his voice.

“Because, Bowler, they cannot stand the place. They cannot stand not sleeping. The frustration, the loneliness, the inability to shut off and take solace in company...it turns them, and they cannot develop
anything
. But me...”-a low, pleased, rotten growl in the throat-”I
love
it here. I am freer than I have ever been, Bowler.”