Box Set - Chapter Twenty Three

‘A terrorist?’ Elle says with her hands on her hips. ‘That little old lady that you kidnapped? Seriously?’

‘I’m deadly serious, Elle,’Windermere replies with a blank expression. ‘If we hadn’t taken her when we did then countless more people would have died.’

‘And we’re supposed to trust you?’ I step forward. I’m sick of people lying to us, taking us for a ride, doing whatever they can to use us for their own ends.

‘If you come upstairs with us, you will. You can’t blame me for my actions, Easton, I’m only doing my job.’

‘You’re a ghost!’ Yates exclaims from behind us. ‘You’re not supposed to have a job.’

I swell with pride for my friend in that moment for embracing his freedom.

‘Some of us like structure to our lives,’ she says. ‘We stay as we were in life.’

‘Why don’t you just let us go?’I ask. ‘We don’t know anything about ghost physics, Teague, Robin or anyone else.’

‘We will let you go,’ Windermere assures. ‘Once you come upstairs with me to see what we’ve been doing here.’

‘You swear you’ll let us go?’Elle says.

‘I swear.’

‘Why the sudden change of heart? A minute ago it was all medieval cells and barred doors.’

‘There are as many opinions in the dead as there are in the living. Those who are more…medieval, tend to be more forceful. I assure you, I was one of the main players in being gentler in our approach.’

I really don’t know whether we can trust this woman. I look at Elle and then Yates. Elle shrugs and seems happy to go along with things. Yates gives a small nod.

‘What do you want to show us?’

‘Our prisoner,’ Windermere says.‘And what he and people like Robin have been doing to the world.’

‘Lead the way then, Windermere.’

The woman spins on her ankle and beckons us to follow her. I notice the man at her side lets us past him before following us himself. With one of them either side of us I can’t help but feel that we are still prisoners in this game.

‘What kind of terrorist was Robin?’ Elle stands closest to Windermere and is clearly intent on more information.

‘She wrote a paper in the eighties,’ Windermere says. ‘About what happens to us after we die. A lot of people took it to be science fiction, they discredited her ideas. Needless to say, she didn’t take kindly to their views.’

I thought of Robin, the kindly, slightly crazed quirky woman from the cell and still it didn’t make much sense.

‘Are you sure you’ve got the right woman?’

Windermere stops and turns. Her eyes seem to gleam with her anger in the darkness.

‘Do not be swayed by her tricks,’ she says. ‘Robin Thacker is one of the most dangerous people who have ever lived.’

I hear her say the words but I don’t quite believe her.

‘You know, there’s an author called Robin Thacker.’

‘It’s not a coincidence. He is her. Or so she would have us believe, and her evidence is irrefutable.’

She starts down the corridor as if it wasn’t a huge revelation.

I look at Elle and then Yates, whose eyes have grown wide.

‘She wasn’t Thacker,’ Yates says. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. Robin Thacker was a man. A man in Victorian London. You said she was from the eighties.’

‘I’m sure you know better than most that Thacker was the first and best of us to dance with death,’ Windermere says. ‘Do you really think it impossible.’

‘What that he reincarnated himself?’ I say. I look at Elle but she shrugs. A year ago the idea would seem like faith to me. Now, after everything I’ve seen, I don’t struggle to believe it. I’ve seen Teague and my own best friend cross between life and death like they’d just flicked a switch. I’d seen Yates change his form from a middle-aged man to a teenager to a boy under ten. Is it that unbelievable.

‘You’re going to have to show me this proof,’ I say.

‘Ever the scientist,’ Windermere says as we start up the staircase.

‘It unsettles me how well you know us,’ Elle says. ‘How long have you been watching us? How have you been watching us full stop?’

‘Everything will become clear.’

‘You know this mystery crap’s starting to get really old,’ she says. ‘Don’t you lot have some pamphlets or something, I really have to get to my parents. If you’ve been watching us then you know what happened in New York.’

‘We know,’Windermere says. ‘And you don’t need to worry, Elle, your parents are safe.’

‘What have you done to them?’ Elle says, worry creeping into her voice.

‘You don’t need to worry, Elle.’Windermere’s voice is the epitome of calm.

Elle steps forward past me and grabs Windermere by the shoulder. ‘You listen here you overdressed cow, if anything happens to my parents you’ll have me to answer to.’

Windermere turns and regards Elle’s hand without giving away the slightest emotion; not even a twitch of the mouth, a clench of the jaw, nothing to show what she was thinking.

‘We have a few of our people watching them,’ Windermere says. ‘They will not make contact. You’ll be pleased to know that they haven’t yet seen the image of you on television or the internet.’

‘Mum and Dad hate the internet,’Elle says looking at me, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

‘Now, if we’re all happy,’Windermere says, an ounce of annoyance surfacing for the first time.

We continue up the stairs. They were keeping us so far down in the old building. I count ten floors and then lose my place when there’s a sound down towards the end of a dark corridor. My thoughts fall on my own parents. Elle’s parents may have been internet-phobic, but mine weren’t. I’m sure they’ll have seen something by now. I have to get to them, as soon as Windermere lets us go I’ll go home to make sure they’re alright. I’ve dropped in from time to time, simply sat with them and been their son in hiding. They’ve got on with their lives. You have to, I never sat and wished for them to miss me. I want them to be happy. Sometimes I see a look on their faces. Sometimes they look right at me and they don’t even know. Those moments when you just stare into space and catch yourself doing it. They always find me, without fail, like magnets to my being. Maybe on some level they know I’m there. A piece of them in the room with them.

I look away and I realise that tears have welled in my eyes too quickly for me to stop them. I wipe them away, disguising it by scratching my nose. I sniff and look at the door at the top of the staircase as we go through.

Facing us is an enormous window open to the stormy seas. The grey ocean spreads far and wide to the steady horizon and I’m taken aback a little. The reflection of the sky in the water, the waves mirroring every cloud and I take a second to appreciate it.

‘I diagnosed myself you know,’Elle says next to me.

I look to my side and follow Elle’s gaze to Windermere’s heels. The corridor stretches in front of us. To our left is an open vista separated by pillars looking out at the stormy sea. I can hear the waves crashing into the rocks below us. I shudder at the thought of falling. I can’t travel, I’d be stuck to fall on the sharp rocks, beaten by the memory of pain, only to fall and sink into the ocean, forever tortured by the crushing pressure of the water. I try to stare even harder at Windermere’s heels.

‘How did you do that?’ I reply.

‘Internet.’ She smiles. ‘The hypochondriac’s friend. I always knew there was something wrong. I had this lump under my armpit. Because they never tell you to check for that do they? They tell you to check yourself out, but never the other symptoms. So I looked online.’

‘What did your parents say?’

‘Denied it,’ Elle says. ‘I can’t blame them, what parent wants to believe their child has the c-word?’

‘I know why you’re so worried,’I say to her. ‘And I promise, as soon as we’re allowed to go, we’ll go and visit your parents, make sure they’re alright. I’m worried about mine too. They’re more internet obsessed than internet phobes.’

‘Internet obsessed parents,’Elle sounds impressed. ‘How did you manage that one?’

‘It’s more of a curse than a present,’ I say. ‘You can’t do anything without them knowing.’

‘Try to sneak out and party?’Elle says. ‘I bet you never stopped.’ She nudges me and winks.

‘Oh yeah,’ I say, layering the sarcasm on my voice. ‘Drink, drugs, sex, the works, that was me.’

We laugh and draw a glance from Windermere over her shoulder. We fall silent again.

We end the corridor with the scary drop and Windermere opens a set of double doors set into an impressive arched alcove on the left. There’s an enormous sense of grandeur about the place and that’s what makes it creepy. The empty spaces and the endless corridors that seem to lead nowhere. With only the sound of the sea breaking the silence, it feels very lonely here.

The doors open into a small anteroom. Windermere turns to us.

‘This is where we’re keeping him,’ she says, neglecting to utter Teague’s name. ‘If you hadn’t let the woman go we’d have had a much easier path ahead of us.’

‘What exactly do you want to do?’I ask. ‘You have to tell us before we can go in.’

Windermere looks down at her feet. She guards her secrets like a poker hand.

‘Teague’s life’s work was based around Thacker,’ Windermere began. ‘We have a lot of evidence to suggest that Teague tracked Thacker down at some point over the past year. We thought that if we had them both in custody we could stop them from doing any more harm.’

‘What harm has Thacker done exactly?’ Yates asks. ‘And why is he a living woman?’

‘Our research suggests that Thacker discovered a way to return to the dead, however doing so caused a lot of problems in his genetic make-up. Certain aspects of his appearance were turned off, some swapped. At some point in his transition back to the living plain, he randomly took on a vast amount of female attributes. What you’re seeing is an amalgamation of male and female. It’s nature controlled by mankind.’

‘How fascinating,’ Yates says, putting his fingers to his chin. Windermere sneers at his words. She makes it clear that she doesn't agree.

I find myself in agreement with Yates. It seems like Windermere and her council friends are basing their dislike of Thacker based on a jumped up charge of terrorism, when all they seem to care about is the random choice of nature and genetics to make him male and female all at once. I don't care, Yates or Elle don't seem to either. Most importantly, and the only person who should be asked on the subject, Thacker doesn't seem to care in the slightest.

‘How exactly did Thacker earn the name ‘terrorist’?’ I ask.

‘Thacker presents a threat to the natural order of things.’ Windermere’s gaze turns stern. ‘If she is allowed to continue, we will have a world where death means nothing, when you can cross back and forth at your pleasure and have no consequences to show for it.’

‘I still don’t see how that makes her a terrorist?’ Elle presses.

‘Thacker has killed again and again over the course of his life, and now into a second one. Experiments crossing participants over to the dead and back again, some of them staying there. It was the writing of the paper under a pseudonym where we managed to track her down.’

‘You say participants?’ I watch Windermere for signs of deception. ‘Were they willing or unwilling?’

Windermere shifts on her feet slightly. ‘That’s really neither here nor there, the point is that Ms Thacker subverted nature and the barriers between life and death. The same can be said for Teague…’

‘I think it’s very much now and here actually,’ Elle says. ‘I may not agree with people playing around with life and death, but I disagree with calling someone a terrorist because they used a bunch of willing volunteers. Answer Easton’s question.’

‘They were volunteers, but the point remains…’

‘I’m liking this woman less and less Easton,’ Elle says, disregarding Windermere’s presence.

I nod and look back at the council member. ‘Look, Windermere,’ I say. ‘We’ll help because Teague has proven himself to be dangerous and if we can help, we’ll help, but I don’t think any of us agree that Thacker is a terrorist. I don’t think there’s a rulebook for the living or the dead…’

‘Well maybe there should be,’Windermere snaps.

‘We never change do we,’ Elle mutters.

I look at my friends. We know we’re in a situation where we can’t escape without helping. I can see that none of us are on board with some of the things Windermere says. We all love our freedom. Surely people like Thacker are entitled to the same amount of freedom. I’m on Elle’s side that people shouldn’t throw away their lives so easily, but if people are given a choice, then there can’t be complaints as long as everyone remains unhurt.

‘Show us Teague,’ I state. ‘And tell us what you want to do.’

Windermere shows her distaste for our point of view clearly on her face. ‘I’d be careful swaying towards Thacker’s camp.’ Her voice is full of warning. ‘Your crimes against the council are so far a secret, but it won’t always be that way.’

She turns and opens the door at the back of the room and passes through into the space beyond without another word.