Box Set - Chapter Fourteen

We re-enter the hayfield without a sound or even disturbing the ravens on perched on the bales. Elle and Yates march ahead, the mission in mind. What the mission is, I’m still not sure, but at least I have people now. The feeling of loss that followed me after death is gone. I realise it was grief from the other side of the coin. I was grieving for my own life lost. But now I have a new one.

I keep step with Graham, who massages his temple. When he notices me, his hand drops.

‘I never really did apologise, did I?’ he says.

‘For what?’

‘For that day by the smoking hut, the way I treated you with Penny. I was just jealous I guess.

I wonder if he’s talking about being in love with me. I shake the thought from my head. Can people never just be friends without that lingering question?

‘I acted like a child and I shouldn’t have,’ he admits.

‘What’s brought this on?’ I ask. The Graham I knew was never a redeemer, he was talk first and ask questions later. It was his fatal flaw. But maybe he’s changed.

‘You think a lot when someone dies,’ he says. ‘You realise how big a part they were in your life. And we never got it back the way it was, before that day when I was a dick in the woods. So I need to apologise. I want things back.’

‘I like how you don’t let little things like me being dead hinder stuff,’ I say, smiling.

He shrugs. ‘We’re scientists,’ he says. ‘Some people say dead, we say that matter shifts and exists in other states, what’s the difference?’

‘What about Yates’s great beyond?’

‘I think we all know Yates is a little cracked,’ he scoffs.

There’s the old Graham. ‘He’s not cracked, he just needs a bit of help.’

They’ve reached the door ahead of us. They open it so Graham can get in.

‘What about you and Elle?’ Graham raises his eyebrows.

I shake my head. ‘Elle’s a friend,’ I say. ‘You know what I love about having a girlfriend, girls can be friends now. I’m not tied down by my own silly need to find a female so not every girl becomes a target of affection. Elle’s awesome, but she’s an awesome friend.’

‘You talking about me, sweetie?’ Elle calls, throwing her head back, fluttering her eyelashes.

‘You wish,’ I say.

She aims a punch for my arm but I dodge neatly to the side. I think everyone needs an Elle.

Yates has already sped ahead into the living room. Almost immediately, he comes speeding back out. ‘Nononono,’ he says too quickly.

‘What’s wrong?’ I ask. He frets and pulls on his hair.

‘It’s gone,’ he says. ‘It’s all gone, someone’s taken it.’

‘What’s gone?’ Graham asks. The curious way he was looking at him back in London is gone. Now he’s retreated to the cold safety of incredulity.

‘My research,’ Yates snaps. ‘I knew we shouldn’t have left, I knew it. This is karma for what I did to him.’

‘Do you really believe in karma?’ I ask. ‘This isn’t anything like that, Yates. Let’s look inside.’

When we enter the living room, I can see Yates is right. All the papers are gone. All his notes tacked to the walls, the books for reference, everything.

‘Who did this?’ Yates talks more to himself than anyone. Pacing around like he’s at a crime scene. I suppose he is. Dead we may be but we can be stolen from.

‘You don’t think…’ starts Elle walking towards him. ‘Hold on, I want to try it.’

She closes her eyes and spreads her hands out like she’s preparing to dive from the high board.

She comes back out and sways a little. ‘I’ll give you three guesses,’ she says. ‘No that’s too easy. One and a half.’

‘Teague?’ I say.

‘What’s going on?’ Graham asks. ‘I’m missing something aren’t I.’

‘It’s a dead thing,’ I reply. ‘You’re not tuned to the network.’

‘What is it?’ Yates looks as confused as Graham. ‘You’ve found something.’

‘You remember what I showed you? When you close your eyes and you see people. Do it in here.’

Yates closes his eyes, concentrates for a second and then takes a step back like something scary appeared in front of him.

‘What is that? The blue light, it’s like the room’s on fire.’

Graham closes his arms around himself. ‘I swear, if someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on?’

‘Teague leaves a trail behind him,’ I say. ‘You saw that light, it’s part of it. It’s like he’s a vibration but he’s resonating at a different speed to everything else, both living and dead.’

‘Music leaves it too,’ Elle says. ‘It’s like the 60s at every concert.’

‘When we close our eyes, we can see how we feel,’ I continue. ‘The dead, I mean. Living people are different, I think bodies must block it. But every feeling is reflected in whatever we’re made of, like we’re living minds and we’re all connected.’

‘That would make sense,’ Graham considers. ‘A lot of unexplained phenomena, like supposed telepathy, or déjà vu, connecting yourself with things you may or may not have done in your past. Maybe it’s a link with that network.’

‘Off the point science boys,’ Elle says. ‘Reel it back in.’

‘Teague leaves a trail like I say. In a way that we can only see when we enter that world. And now he’s following us and he’s got what he wants. He’s got something that Thacker knew about.’

‘But I’d have found it,’ Yates says. ‘I scoured that book, everything made sense. He’s amazing, Easton,’ he says. ‘He was into science decades ahead of his time. But there was nothing I couldn’t explain by looking at other books. Unless…’

‘No,’ Graham says. ‘Don’t say it.’

‘The great beyond, it has to be!’

‘He said it.’ Graham sighs. ‘Isn’t it proof that you’re all still here talking to me? There is nothing further.’

‘Then why isn’t the world flooded with spirits?’ Yates retorts, taking a step towards Graham. ‘Think about it, everyone who ever lived stays as a ghost, we wouldn’t be able to move for dead people. They must go somewhere else?’

Graham thinks for a second. It’s the scientist versus the believer. The argument that never dies. Me and Elle stand in the middle, watching the two spar like we’re watching tennis. ‘Space!’ says Graham.

‘Oh god,’ Elle says. ‘I was getting into it then, but he has to ruin it with aliens. You’re why films get crap sometimes,’ she points an accusing finger at him.

‘Not aliens,’ Graham whines, frustrated that she didn’t catch on. ‘But out there, exploring the universe? How do you know your travels are restricted to this planet? How many people might have looked up and drifted off, went away to find a better world? That’s your great beyond. All the people who ever died are spread around empty space, orbiting supernovas.’

Part of me wants to believe it. The scientist in me screams to side with my old friend.

But what if there’s another explanation?

There are at least two people who prescribe to the ‘great beyond’ theory. One man wrote about it in a 200 year old book and now we’re seeing proof of his musings. Another man believed him and defied the laws of the universe and crossed a boundary at great personal risk to himself. Who’s to say there isn’t another step to the afterlife?

‘What if they’re both true?’ I interrupt as I arrive at the conclusion.

‘What if there is another place that exists where the dead can go?’ I hold my hand up to silence Graham as he opens his mouth. ‘But what if there’s an explanation to it. Just because it’s given a mythical name doesn’t mean it has to exist through magic and belief. People believe in the story, enough to injure themselves and put many more in danger. Whatever the reason for Teague following Thacker, we have to find one or both of them and get to the bottom of it.’

‘OK,’ Graham says. ‘Peachy, now how do we do that exactly?’

I can see he doesn’t buy into my story. A scientist to the end. I’d respect that, but his lack of conviction to follow his obvious talent is what annoys me. Even if his talent was small, he should pursue it to make it greater. I tried to follow my dreams. I had my university application all filled out, ready to study physics at – hopefully –one of the big ones, and I died. Graham sat at home playing video games with his application looking sad and empty. But now he’s interested when there’s a believer to argue with. Right now, I respect Yates a whole lot more.

‘We need help,’ I say. ‘We’ve missed him, but I think we can find him if we look hard enough.’

‘Why are we always finding something to find something else?’ asks Elle.

‘Because the dead don’t have a phonebook,’ replies Yates.

‘He is getting better,’ says Elle, clapping him on the back. He stumbles forward but the corners of his mouth turn up and released from their permanent grimace for a few seconds.

‘So who are we finding?’

‘When I first arrived here, I was greeted by someone,’ I reply. ‘He’s been dead for 400 years. I think that’s a pretty impressive CV when we’re looking for answers about being dead.’

‘Or we could look at it from another angle?’ suggests Elle. ‘The room lights up like fireworks whenever we close our eyes. There must be some sort of clue here?’

I nod. ‘Good idea, everyone close your eyes.’

‘Except Graham, you just stand there and look pretty.’ Elle grins.

Graham shakes his head but smiles at the same time.

I close my eyes. It looks like the room is on fire. Blue echoes trail from every angle, stopping in places, but look like they’re moving even now. I wonder are they fading.

I move around, noticing the different lights given off by Elle and Yates. Elle looks bright but there are ripples in her mood. Is that fear? Yates on the other hand is a marble of darks and lights. He’s in a state of flux, neither up nor down but somewhere in between, his mood constantly changing. Graham, like most people still with bodies, is a mystery.

I study the walls, searching for a hand print like Rome, but there’s nothing. The echoes are so bright, they’re almost loud, I can almost hear Teague moving around the room, rustling papers, stealing secrets.

‘Here, what’s this,’ cries Yates from the fireplace.

‘You have no idea how weird it is watching you all with your eyes closed moving around like you can see,’ says Graham.

‘What have you found?’ I ask Yates, studying the fireplace myself. There are a lot of echoes around it, though I don’t remember seeing anything around it when we were here before.

‘Do you think this is this something?’ he asks, pointing at the floor.

I look down and there’s definite evidence of a scorch mark, just the same as Graham’s basement only invisible to the naked eye.

‘This must be where he appeared,’ I reply.

I kneel down and touch it. It emits a strange warmth that spreads up my arm like a light touch.

‘I still think Benjamin might know something,’ I say. ‘He says he visits Central Park every Friday.’

The warmth turns to a heat. The light doesn’t change but I find I can’t move my hand from the spot or open my eyes.

‘I can’t move,’ I say, with panic in my voice.

Elle and Yates grab my shoulders and try to pull me away but I’m rooted to the spot. The heat is rising until it concentrates itself around my wrist. It feels like someone’s holding me there.

One second I’m looking at the fireplace. Elle, Yates and Graham are shouting something behind me. They sound scared but I can’t make out their words.

Another second passes and their voices are fading, fading, fading into nothing and I know I’m in the Edge, but whose, I don’t know. It’s definitely not mine. The blue fire surrounds me. Whoever owns this place is made of the echoes and I realise it’s Teague.

I can’t see a memory because what echo has a memory?

I’m pulled forward with a jerk and the Edge screams past me. Do I catch glimpses of a lost life? Or is it just a trick of the flames.

The world snaps back to reality and I can open my eyes. I see the hand gripping my wrist and the moleskin sleeve that owns it.

We’re on a hill, with a tree at the top and the sun is just rising over a faraway peak. I don’t know where we are but the valley before me stops the breath in my chest.

Far below a river runs freely alongside grassy banks. The morning sun makes a mirror of it, showing the white and pink in the sky, I imagine the sky is smiling. I’d feel serene, at peace, but the strong hand around my wrist saps that from me.

‘Who are you?’ I ask.

‘Teague,’ he replies. ‘I told you that.’

‘But why did you bring me here?’

‘Because you and I are connected. Twice now, you’ve found me.’

‘What about the time you found me?’ I ask. ‘Forgetting that one?’ I look down at my wrist, still in his painful grasp. ‘Let go of my arm,’ I say. ‘You shouldn’t even be able to do that.’

‘I’m not like normal men,’ he says. ‘This way.’

He starts up the hillside towards the tree. There’s a heavy looking rucksack slung across his shoulders and I can only imagine that The Alchemist sits inside.

‘Why did you take all my friend’s papers?’

‘He was meddling in things he didn’t understand.’

‘They weren’t yours to take.’

‘And the book wasn’t yours,’ he snaps.

‘You’ve changed your tune,’ I say. I grow in confidence. He can’t hurt me, I’m dead. ‘One minute you’re pleading with us to save your life, and now you’ve taken me prisoner.’

‘Young people are very easy to manipulate,’ he says without looking back. ‘The right intonation on my voice, delivered at the right time. I can get anything I want.’

So he’s my supervillain. I think. The Skull to my Iron Captain, the Dr Magorian to my Bullett. Teague is manipulative and powerful and I need to stop him. Quite how I’m to do that, I’m not sure yet. I realise I can escape. I can simply close my eyes and be back with my friends in a blink of them.

‘I don’t think so,’ says Teague, still marching forward. I’m quick to lose my breath, but he seems possessed by something that stalls his human qualities. ‘Don’t you think I thought of that.’

‘How are you doing that?’ I ask.

He snorts. ‘You really think you’ll catch me monologueing like that? No, you’re here to remove this connection we share, then you’re on your way and I’ll be on mine.’

‘Connection?’ I ask. ‘Is that how you found me.’

He wheels around and leans close to me. I lean backwards, intimidated by his sudden movement.

‘You ask too many questions,’ he say through gritted teeth. ‘Don’t you think I have better things to do than drag you around?’

‘Well I don’t know,’ I consider. ‘You won’t tell me.’

I see his hand twitch. Is he going to hit me? Can ghosts even hit other ghosts? I suppose if we can drink a cup of tea we can do most things. But then is Teague a ghost at all?

‘Tell me one thing,’ I say, meeting him squarely in his swampy green eyes. ‘Why didn’t you steal The Alchemist before? If it’s so crucial?’

‘Because it’s not exactly at the top of every thief’s hit list,’ he explains with an annoyed quality to his voice. ‘I left it in the museum to keep it safe. I didn’t expect some do-gooder kid to come and steal it to save his weirdo friend.’

‘How do you know what I’ve been doing?’ I ask. ‘How long have you been following me?’

‘Oh for god’s sake,’ says Teague. He steps back, still holding my wrist in his tight grip. It’s windy up here. Windy enough that I feel like a particularly strong gust might pick me up and wheel me away towards the far distant peaks. I wonder can I feel the cold of the snow on my fingers?

‘I don’t need to steal the book to study it,’ he says. ‘You do realise that don’t you? That it would have been a lot easier, and a lot kinder to a hallowed text to bring your friend to it, than endanger it and remove it from the case?’

‘People like you keep nice cars in garages,’ I say, thinking of my poor, mangled Triumph Spitfire. ‘And you keep books on shelves and never read them.’

Teague doesn’t seem to care. He turns around and marches up the hill again. We reach the peak and enter the shade of the tree.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out his device. The remote control that I saw him use to travel through a bus.

‘How did you do it?’ I ask. ‘How do you travel like a ghost?’

He laughs with a bitter tone. ‘Ghosts,’ he laughs. ‘Like a child’s story around a bonfire.’

‘Well what are we then?’

‘That’s a mystery that is mine to find out,’ says Teague. ‘Once I’ve got rid of you.’

He flicks a switch on the remote. I jerk to the right, away from him. I feel myself lift off the ground. I cry out, completely unable to control my own movements. I stop in the air, the deadened face of the starbright man beneath me.