Chapter Sixteen
‘You’re really making a mistake
you know,’ Teague warns as we enter the hayfield again.
‘And what mistake would that
be?’ I snap.
The moleskin man’s become more
of an irritation than a danger. He obviously has talent; he managed to change
the state and consistency of every single one of his atoms. He figured out how
to jump between life and death, but at what cost? His value for life was
clearly non-existent, at least until he becomes concerned with his own.
‘Thacker, boy, Thacker!’ he
says. ‘It was all there in The Alchemist!’
‘So I’ve heard,’ I say. People
were drawing perilously close to ruining my favourite novel for me. I wish I
could just curl up in a chair and read it, enjoy the story of Cecily as she
falls in love with a dead boy, how they run through the London underworld and
fend off the pursuers who want to find the fortune of a long dead man. Now,
Thacker’s book has become tarnished by being true. People truly want the
secrets of a dead man. I can see the appeal, from a living perspective I would
have been fascinated on a Yates-ean level. Now, tied together with a madman who
wants me dead again to save his own skin, I’d be happy if I never ever heard
the name Robin Thacker.
‘Such an underappreciated
talent,’ Teague muses as we part the grass with our footsteps. ‘All the novels
studied for their content and this one was missed. Do you know they thought him
mad?'
‘I can’t say I’m surprised.’ I
layer sarcasm on my words, like too much butter on a piece of toast. I must
thank Elle for her infectious mannerisms.
‘It taps in on that most human
characteristic,’ he says. ‘That pathetic lust for the lost. I’ve heard so many
accounts, voices heard in abandoned houses, lonely old folks who hear a voice
talking to them. We simply refuse to believe that we cease to be.’ He snorts.
‘I know even the most devout atheist cries for the divine when their last
moments approach.’
‘Please spare me the lecture,’ I
say as I nudge open the front door of the cottage. It’s been left open, this
already sets a pool of worry flowing into my chest. ‘And we want to find the
lost because we love them. Do you know what that feels like….drop that!’ I snap
and bat the remote control from his grasp. It flips over twice in the air
before shattering on the ground. I’m guessing about a hundred separate little
components fly across the flagstone floor.
‘You little idiot!’ he snarls.
‘Oh I’m sorry, just living over
here,’ I say to him. ‘Don’t try that again.’
No comments:
Post a Comment