The Reviver (9 page)

Bob Crenner spoke: ‘Ask her how long he’d been gone.’ Jonah relayed the question.

‘A few minutes. He shone the flashlight at me. He asked me if I could hear him. He sounded worried, I don’t think he’d realized I was really hurt. He was swearing lots. I wasn’t breathing much then. He was scared. He went to leave but he’d forgotten the jewellery box so he came back. He looked at me again. He went to the front door, I think. I heard banging and a smash and then the door opened.’

She stopped. Ten seconds passed.

‘Nikki?’ Nothing. Jonah waited.

‘Is she gone?’ asked Crenner, urgency in his voice. ‘We need some description of the man. Is she gone?’ Jonah shook his head for the camera. She was still there, still strong. She was resting. Jonah knew when to press and when to let a subject recover. He gave her a little longer before continuing.

‘What happened then, Nikki?’

‘I heard a voice. It was my dad.’

Crenner made another suggestion: ‘Ask her where the voice came from.’ Jonah understood the implication, and asked Nikki.

‘From upstairs above me. I heard their bedroom door, and then I heard the man run outside, slamming the front door behind him. Dad’s footsteps came down the stairs, quick, and I was afraid the man would come back and get him too. He was calling, “Is someone there?” and he was angry and scared. He stopped and called out again. I think he wanted to scare whoever it was away, but the man had gone. Dad turned on the lights. My mom asked him what it was. He didn’t answer, he was looking at me. He came in, holding Granny Mo’s old walking stick in front of him. He saw me, and I wanted to tell him the man had gone, that I was OK, though I didn’t really think I
was
OK. He was crying. He shouted to Mom. He told me to hang on, but it went dark again. I think I died then.’

Jonah looked to a camera and gave a firm nod. She was telling the truth, no question, and it was all on camera. Relief flooded him.

‘Well done,’ said Never over his earpiece.

‘Yes, well done,’ said Crenner. ‘Now let’s get anything else we can. Details of the man. Anything she can recall.’

Now that there was enough to shift focus away from the father, Jonah wondered how long Crenner would make him continue questioning. Nikki was still strongly present, but time was against them. He was desperate to allow the girl to speak to her parents, and for them to speak to her.

‘Nikki, I’ve got some more questions, and then you can talk to your parents, OK?’ He hoped the explicit reference would focus Crenner’s mind on the prospect. Too much questioning, and the detective would be denying this child her last chance to tell her parents she loved them.

‘OK.’

Crenner guided the questions. ‘Start with clothing. Then voice. Then anything else she remembers,’ he said.

‘Can you tell me what the man was wearing, Nikki?’ asked Jonah.

‘I think he had jeans on. A brown jacket. But it was really dark and he had the flashlight. I only saw his legs and feet. I think he had black gloves on. A scarf around his face.’

‘Can you describe the scarf or anything about his face?’

‘Don’t know. I didn’t see. He may have had a cap but it was so
dark.
Where’s my mom?’ Nikki Wood was getting impatient, and scared. Scared that Jonah had lied to her about talking to her mother.

‘She’s coming now, Nikki. Your dad too.’ He looked to a camera and nodded, knowing his action would be understood. He heard Crenner on his radio, contacting Johnson.

‘OK, OK. Send them in. But Jonah, we need something. Anything you can get. Voice, maybe?’

‘Nikki,’ said Jonah, ‘some final questions while they’re on their way. Can you tell me about the man’s voice? An accent? Anything?’

‘His voice was deep but not very good.’

Jonah thought for a second before grasping what she meant. ‘You mean he sounded like he was disguising his voice?’

‘Yes. When he first said something he just sounded normal, but then he went all deep.’

‘When he first spoke, did you recognize the voice? Was it familiar?’

‘No.’ Running out of time.

Crenner spoke up: ‘The parents are coming. Ask her if she can remember anything else unusual. Anything at all. Then it’s up to you. If you think she has more, we need it. Get it if you can.’

‘Last thing, Nikki. Was there anything else, anything you can think of that might help us catch him?’

Nikki was silent for almost twenty seconds. Jonah tensed. He heard the front door open, Nikki’s parents and Nala George entering the house, talking with low voices.

‘He had a cough,’ Nikki said. ‘He kept coughing.’ She fell silent again. Jonah gave her a moment. He heard Crenner swear, frustrated, and Jonah was frustrated too. But instinct told him there was nothing more she could offer, and he trusted his instinct. That was all they were going to get.

Jonah looked into the camera.

‘That’s all she knows,’ he said, downcast. ‘She’s still here, but we don’t have long.’

Crenner paused, then asked the Woods the formality: ‘Are you ready to speak to your daughter?’

Jonah could hear Nikki’s father: ‘Oh please, God, yes.’

Jonah smiled at Nikki. ‘Your mom and dad are here now. Do you want to talk to them?’ He too was required to confirm.

‘Yes,’ said Nikki Wood. ‘Thank you.’

*   *   *

Once the parents had left, Jonah released the girl. She was content now, and ready: the way Jonah liked them to be at release. Tension slipped off his shoulders as she went. He stood, suddenly shaky and weak – his recent lack of sleep, he thought. He crouched down, focusing on his breathing, but the weakness was joined by nausea. He could feel a headache start up, and hoped it wouldn’t turn into a migraine. He stood again and stumbled out to the hall. The parents were by the open front door, speaking to Crenner. Johnson was standing in the dining room behind Never and saw Jonah’s pale face. He came out into the hall.

‘You look terrible.’

‘I need a toilet. Or a bucket.’

‘Come on.’ Johnson bundled Jonah outside.

The crowd had thinned a little but movement from the house sparked interest. Johnson guided Jonah two doors down, where an elderly couple stood in the doorway.

‘Need your bathroom,’ he said to them as he approached. Seeing Jonah, they said nothing and stood back.

The toilet bowl triggered Jonah’s stomach, and he vomited powerfully, bile and coffee. Johnson stepped outside and closed the door.

Jonah dry-wretched for several more minutes. He took off the single glove he still had on his left hand, shoving it into his pocket, and turned on the cold water faucet, splashing his face.

He looked in the mirror and, for an instant, felt surprise at seeing his own image. Confused, he dismissed the feeling and opened the door, out of breath but with a little colour back in his cheeks.

‘I need air,’ he said to Johnson, and they went back outside, thanking the owners as they went. Outside by the gate Nala George stood, worry on her face. As he reached her, the strength in his legs failed again and he crouched, breathing with great care.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘Sometimes it hits you at the end.’
But not this hard,
he thought.

‘Forget it. Really,’ said Johnson. ‘That was amazing.’

‘Me throwing up?’

Ray Johnson laughed. ‘What you did. You got her back, and the father’s clear. Guess I owe everyone an apology.’

‘Damn right,’ said Nala George, still a trace of anger in her eyes. She looked at Jonah and the anger vanished. ‘Thank you.’

Jonah looked up. ‘Yeah. We got nothing else, though. A man, taller than Nikki, who coughs and can’t do a convincing deep voice. Case closed.’ He tried to stand, using the brick gatepost at the edge of the garden for support. ‘It could’ve gone better.’

‘You still did well,’ Johnson said.

‘Not well enough. She seemed like a good kid.’ Something felt suddenly strange in his head, something he couldn’t pinpoint. He rubbed his face, then moaned a little and slid down until he was sitting on the ground again.

‘You want me to get Never?’ said Johnson.

‘Give me a minute, I’ll be OK. And shouldn’t you be…’

He stopped, as an image of long grass in sand filled his mind. A strong smell of the sea. He recognized it from the surge he’d had bringing Nikki back. The image came again, swamping him: the sea, distant over flat wet sand, the tide out. A voice shouted a name.

Nikki.

He turned and saw an old woman making her slow way to where he sat in the sand.

Granny Mo,
thought Jonah automatically, a deep recognition that puzzled him.

He groaned.

It had been a while since he’d experienced the remnant effect, and this sure as hell felt like it. Dead memories that were unbidden, and unfamiliar. Remnants of the images and sensations he’d been bombarded with during the surge.

My meds need changing,
he thought. He heard Nala George again: ‘You OK?’

Jonah looked up at her and hid his confusion. ‘I’m just tired.’ He was suddenly keen to find Never. It was far too soon for remnants to hit. The earliest he’d ever known it to happen was after a day, a distressing but ultimately harmless picture show.

And there was something else, something elusive. He felt distant, somehow. Vague.

It struck again. The same location, the grandmother close now.

‘
How’s your leg, Gran?
’

‘
Still there, sweetie,
’ she said. He was struck by the odd familiarity of the sentence. Struck by the way the old woman’s voice had filled him with warmth, and by a curious detachment he felt when his eyes opened again.

He felt the headache worsen.
It’s just imagery,
he told himself.
Just memory.

He stood, leaning heavily on the gatepost, angry at the unwelcome complication – knowing the anger would be shared by Sam Deering, and aimed at him and at Never.
Yeah, right, take it easy, have a break.

Outside their house, Julie and Graham Wood had emerged and the crowd had gathered again. Jonah’s need to see Never overwhelmed his dislike of having to pass through the throng. His friend would still be inside, disassembling equipment. He lurched off through a gap in the metal barriers.

‘Hey, steady … You should rest longer,’ said Johnson, keeping pace. Nala George was a few steps behind.

‘I need to talk to Never,’ Jonah gasped, ducking under the tape. Julie and Graham Wood were on the street, talking to Crenner. They looked better than they had before, the therapeutic value of the revival clear.

Seeing them provoked panic deep inside Jonah, a panic he couldn’t understand. He intended to walk past, but Julie Wood intercepted him.

‘I wanted to thank you in person,’ she said softly.

Jonah nodded. ‘Thanks, I have to…’

He stepped around her, and there in front of him was her husband, offering his hand.

‘I can’t shake, I’m sorry,’ said Jonah, holding his own hands up.

‘I just want you to know,’ said Graham Wood, a hitch in his voice. ‘I want you to know how grateful we are.’

But Jonah found himself unable to concentrate, desperate to move on, feeling that – somehow – time was short. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I have to go inside.’

He took one step, then became aware of something, a noise: he strained to listen. It was important, he thought, but he had no idea why. Julie and Graham stared.

‘Where’s Never?’ Jonah said, his voice fading, eyes looking around but not seeing. He stumbled, stayed crouched for a moment, and stood up again.

Johnson and Nala exchanged a glance.

‘I’ll get Never,’ said Johnson, and hurried off.

‘What’s wrong with him? Can we help?’ asked Julie Wood.

‘I don’t know,’ said Nala.

Jonah was staring around at the people by the barriers. He stepped towards them. Their low chatter subsided as they saw this oddity watching them. Nala George stepped over and touched his arm, that hint of chill making itself known again.

‘Jonah, please come inside the tent. You need to sit down. You need to rest.’ He shrugged her off. The crowd was silent now, and Jonah could feel the weight of their eyes on him.

He was as baffled as they were. He felt compelled to follow the source of a sound he couldn’t hear, and now there was no sound at all save for a distant hum of traffic. The feeling of detachment had grown – a feeling that he was watching himself.

Then he heard it. A clearing of the throat. A
cough,
or what Nikki Wood had meant by it. Familiar now, and close by. He moved to his left and waited. It came again. Closer. The faces before him were deeply uneasy.

He felt another hand on his shoulder. It was Never, fear in his eyes.

‘Jonah, come inside,’ he said. ‘Please, come inside.’

Jonah shook his head. His sense of detachment retreated for a moment, and he leaned towards Never and whispered. ‘Something … There’s something in my head, Never…’

The sound came again. Jonah snapped his head around, horribly dizzy for a moment, but then he could see the man, further back, obscured by a group of women with toddlers. Jonah put his hands on the steel barrier; ignoring Never’s protests he vaulted it, landing hard on the other side.

The women stared fearfully at him as he moved through them.

He stepped towards the lone man, who watched him warily. Jonah’s eyes dropped to the ground. The man was wearing shabby trainers, ancient and tattered. Jonah looked down at them. He had no idea why he was looking. The first two letters of the Reebok logo had come off the side of his left shoe. He remembered Nikki’s words in the revival:
I only saw his legs and feet.

She hadn’t described the shoes, but somehow he recognized them.

You, he thought.
You.

Already Never was at his side, and Jonah turned to him. ‘The shoes, Never,’ he said. ‘It’s him. The same
shoes.
’

Jonah turned back and looked at the man, at his eyes. There was fear there, and shock; but there was defiance too, and the instant Jonah saw that defiance he felt anger boil inside himself, an overwhelming rage he had no source for. It terrified him.