Tarquin
holds his hands up, a sign of defence. ‘He’s not in a place we’ve ventured to
before. He’s close to the Abyss but he’s holding himself from falling. I’m not
even sure we can get him.’
I put a
hand to my forehead. I wonder how many people would stay their killing hand if
they knew a thing about the afterlife. Those who throw themselves in front of
trains or take the pill they shouldn’t. Would it make them pause and
reconsider? This place is a land of choices, of walking a fine line between
safety and oblivion so much more than the land of the living. And here, this
place feels like a tightrope. I worry that it’s one Yates may have difficulty
balancing on.
‘How
would you suggest going to fetch him?’ Elle asks. She’s calmed herself and her
words emerge steady and forthright, the indication of bottled anger. At
Tarquin, at the world? I couldn’t be sure. It’s times like these that I wish I
could still talk to her with my thoughts. We have to get Yates home and soon.
This is no place for any of us.
‘We can
go and get him,’ I say.
There’s
an instant reaction from the crowd around us. A muttering of dissent that makes
it seem like I’ve insulted their very way of being.
‘You’ll
understand the idea is unpopular,’ Tarquin explains. ‘Fear of the darkness is
what keeps us here. Fear and the spirit of togetherness.’
I resist the urge to roll my
eyes. I can feel them straining. If you ask me it’s mainly the fear that keeps
a community in this town. Only fear of the unknown would keep people sleeping
on floors and denying themselves everything else.
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