Above the Vaulted Sky - Page 139

Chapter Twenty-One

                We’re back in Yates’s hayfield in less than a second. Elle spins on the spot, raking her fingers through her pink locks.

                ‘How did that happen, Easton?’ she asks, her voice sounding strangled.

                ‘I-I don’t know,’ I stammer. ‘It must have been the light in there, the halogen bulbs, I guess they reacted with us?’

                ‘But why’s it never happened before?’

                ‘How many ghosts go to police stations?’ I reply. ‘We’re a little unusual, Elle you have to admit.’

                Her eyes shine and I know she’s inches from the memory of tears.

                Graham and Yates pass through the door. ‘You two were on TV!’ Graham erupts before taking stock of the situation. ‘Conspiracy theorists will be going nuts! I have to get online.’

                ‘Because that’s all you care about?’ Elle says.

                Graham runs several accounts online. I wonder how many people on forums and just randomers from social media have been ghosts. Those anonymous posters with no picture but a constant presence.

                ‘What’s up with her?’ Graham says, jerking his thumb in Elle’s direction.

                I open my mouth but she interjects before I can utter a sound.

                ‘Because I’m dead, idiot,’ she says. ‘I died. Died. I lived a life and it was stolen from me by a couple of bastard cells and people were upset about it. Do you know what that feels like? Do you know how many times I went to visit my parents after I died? How many times I sat with them?’

                ‘Elle,’ I say, putting a hand on her forearm, the one  she viciously waves at Graham who looks like a kid caught in the act.

                ‘No, Easton,’ she says. ‘People die and break hearts. You chose to cross over like it was a game and broke your parent’s hearts. They don’t even know you are dead, could you take your tongue out of Yates’s mouth for two seconds and consider what that kind of worry even feels like?’

                ‘Oh so you’re against our relationship?’ Graham says, putting his arm around Yates’s shoulders. Yates, thankfully, shrugs it off and takes a step back.

                ‘Don’t you dare deflect,’ she says. ‘I am so happy for Yates. You can do whatever you like as far as I’m concerned. My problem lies with your attitude to life. Life is precious and you’ve pissed yours up the wall because you feel like it.’ She pauses, taking a deep, shaky breath. ‘Somewhere out there, my parents will see an image of the daughter they once had on television, and it will break their hearts all over again.’

                She turns around and storms towards the house, I presume so Graham won’t see her cry.

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                   I want to hit him. Graham does this, explodes, causes hurt to everyone around him and then acts like it was no big deal.

                  'Don't do that,' I say. 'You can't treat people like that.'

                  Graham sighs. 'I don't know what you want me to say.'

                  'Why did you blow up like that,' I say.

                  'Because you pushed me,' Graham says. 'Digging at my mum and dad.'

                  'And you weren't,' I reply. 'That's not it.'

                  Graham goes silent. He looks at his shoes.

                  'You like him, don't you,' I say. 'I've seen you looking at him, all the way through London.'

                  'That wasn't it,' Graham says, too quickly. 'He reminds me of someone.'

                  'You can lie to yourself if you want. You can lie to Yates, you can lie to me and Elle. Do what you like. Just don't treat a human being like that.'

                  Graham nods slowly. 'I know I shouldn't have.'

                  Come on, I nod.

                  We go back into the room. Graham follows sheepishly, kicking his heels.

                  'I'm going, Elle, you can't stop me,' Yates says, as soon as we reenter.

                  'Easton,' she says. 'Please help me.'

                  'Let go of me, Elle.'

                  I cross the room and grip his arm. 'Yates, I won't let you do that. You'll die.'

                  Yates nods and looks down. Sometimes you know when your words have fallen on deaf ears.

                  'Yates,' Graham says. In his apology voice. I know the apology voice so well. It's the cloying voice that melts the heart of any grandma. I can imagine he never got in trouble as a child.

                  'What do you want?' Yates replies.

                  'To apologise,' he says.

                  'For how long? How long until the freak irritates you?'

                  'I didn't mean it,' Graham says. 'I nearly just died.' He laughs, trying to make light of it. Graham's apology tactic number two.

                  'Maybe we'd all be better off.'

                  Elle squeezes his arm. Yates drops his head and stays quiet.

                  'I deserved that,' Graham says.

                  'Yeah, you did,' says Elle. 'Dick.'

                  Yates snorts. Tears roll down his face but he's ceased to cry.

                  'I really am sorry,' Graham says.

                  I wonder if he does like him. Did he ever love me like he said he did? I've never really imagined Graham liking anyone. He always seemed to exist simply to take the piss and annoy people. I know his parents have always made him insecure. Everyone knew how rich he was at school. You couldn't go a day without someone stealing his money for lunch or later on just pushing him around through the corridors. That's why we met originally, we were two outcasts.

Box Set - Chapter Fifteen

‘Did you know that there are points around the globe, veritably alive with electromagnetism?’ Teague says, twisting dials on his remote. ‘I discovered a long time ago that…ghosts as you call them flock to them like they truly possess magnetic properties and you’re all made of iron.’

‘I thought you weren’t monologueing,’ I reply. It doesn’t hurt being hung in the air, it’s just quite a peculiar feeling. The thing I don’t like is not being able to move. I feel trapped. My chance is to annoy him, so that he hopefully makes a mistake and lets me go. I close my eyes, trying to travel, anywhere but here.

‘I told you, you can’t do that,’he boasts. ‘You figured out that you’re now constructed mostly from protons,’he explains. ‘And that you can make yourself visible by changing the charge of the air. I’ve changed the charge again.’ He waves the remote. ‘Though my power sources is a little bit stronger than the mains. You can’t travel, you can’t even move.’

I close my eyes, apparently in defeat. I try to reach out. My fingers prickle. I try very hard not to smile. That power remains mine. I reach out to him and find he’s solid again. I can’t read his feelings. I can imagine he’d shine triumphant. Does this mean he doesn’t know about the Edge?

I open my eyes again, I don’t want to make it obvious. If I have something he doesn’t know about I have to use it to my advantage.

‘How are we connected? The hand I touched in Rome?’

‘Spot on,’ compliments Teague like a teacher. His eyes are very bloodshot, and the beard on his chin has grown scraggly, tiny brown hairs are beginning to skew off, randomly. Not that he seems to care. His clothes look unwashed. He must be hot in that coat, despite the wind up here. He looks like a desperate man with the gift of control.

‘Why does it matter?’ I ask. ‘It’s hurting you isn’t it.’

Teague’s eyes narrow. I’ve hit the nail on the head.

‘It’s none of your business what the connection does,’ he snaps. ‘What matters is you saw something shiny and you touched it, like a magpie, like a…child.’ He finishes like the idea repulses him. ‘It won’t take long to reverse, I just want to get you out of my hair.’

He turns a dial. I feel a prickle, but not like the Edge. It’s like a thousand needles digging into my skin.

I wince as the feeling spreads from the tips of my fingers and toes, up my arms and legs and into my chest.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask.

‘Dispersing,’ he replies. ‘You’ll still exist, but in another form.’

Dispersing. That sounds awful. I can only imagine what he’s doing and I know I have to stop him. There is no way to get rid of the connection so he’s going to get rid of me instead. I can imagine that in his twisted head it’s not even murder. I’m already dead.

He twists a dial and the invisible needles dig in deeper.

My eyes are already closed. I do what’s instinctive to me. I try to escape. This time the prickle of the Edge comes even easier, as though it’s telling me that’s where I need to go. I don’t have much else to choose from.

I reach out and try to step forward. This time I feel my leg move, but I know I’m not really moving at all.

‘Wait, what are you doing?’Teague sounds even more desperate. It works. The Edge disrupts his experiment.

I step forward and take my body with me. I fall into the Edge and for the first time, see it as somewhere safe.

I fall, but this time I feel controlled. The memories flick past but I can identify each one. There’s the day Dad bought an old Jaguar E-Type and Mum actually left him for a day. There’s the day me and Dad crashed in his secret Jaguar E-Type. I fall, fall fall, and I realise I’m seeing memories I’ve experienced since I’ve been dead. There’s Elle, and Graham and Yates, the blinding explosion of Teague in Graham’s basement. If that’s not proof I’m still alive then I don’t know what is.

I pick a memory at random as the motion of falling starts to make me feel ill.

My feet land on solid ground. The polished floors of my St Bartholomew’s. My old maths classroom sits on my left, and windows line the right hand wall. I remember looking out at the woods every single maths lesson wishing I could be out there and not stuck inside. I love maths, I can do maths. Maths and Physics go hand in hand, but sometimes I just wanted to be outside discovering things with them, not sat inside on a computer. The contradiction was that’s where all discoveries were in the real world. Hard work doesn’t come with adventure.

I look inside the classroom and there I am, about three years ago looking bored stiff. And there’s Penny, just two rows in front. I walk to the window on the door and look inside. I miss her. Everything that’s happening occupies me so I don’t think about it but I miss her whenever I get a moment’s peace. I hope she’s found friends too.

I put my hand on the window, meaning to go inside, but a sound to my left stops me.

I turn and there he is, just as wild looking.

‘How did you do this? How are you travelling? It’s impossible.’

‘Science gets proven wrong every day, Teague, I guess I just stepped on yours.’

He snarls at me like a wild animal. Is that the hint of a rash beneath his collar?

I turn and run, my feet slapping against the floor. I hear him tear after me. His feet are heavy and sound erratic like he’s losing control.

It doesn’t take long for me to reach the edge of the memory. The blackness engulfs me and I leap forward, letting it embrace me. I’m falling again, but not for long. I re-enter the world, on a grassy hill.

I stumble slightly but I carry on running. The ground is dry and hard in the height of summer. I only have vague recollections of this day. My mum and dad sit about a hundred metres to my right on a picnic blanket. I sit beside them. I’m about seven or eight and I look content playing with some dinosaurs.

I don’t really know what my plan is. I didn’t realise he was going to follow me. I whip past trees and over beds of flowers. I remember this place, there’s a big manor house that got converted into a museum years ago and my parents always loved coming here with me. They called it their ‘weekend place’.

I’m about to stop and try to travel again when Teague appears on the hillside. He trips over and it gives me the chance. The problem with such an open space is that I remember too much of it. Everything we ever see is preserved in our memories. We don’t realise it half the time. This means that the edge of this one will be far away or behind a thick bank of foliage.

I have to escape him.

I see a thick line of fir trees. They’re not big, I imagine they grow them so they can have their pick of Christmas trees, but where me and my family are sitting, they can’t see behind them.

I make for them. I realise that while I pant and feel a tightness in my chest, I have no desire to stop. I’m not getting tired. I use this to my advantage and dive behind the trees as Teague starts to get close. I dive and keep on falling into the Edge.

I feel his fingers drag against my ankle but then they’re gone. I hate not understanding things. The fact that I don’t know what will happen if I just carry on falling drives me to the point of madness every time I see this place. I also don’t know what will happen if I travel out of here and leave Teague behind. He’ll be trapped in my memories and god only knows what he could do to me. He can’t change them, my experience with Yates taught me that, but still, he’d be inside my subconscious. If we’re getting out of here, I’m taking him with me and then leaving him.

I re-enter a random memory. I instantly regret it. The beige carpet, the big sofa, the film I didn’t like on the television are all too familiar. I realise my heart is pounding. I’m scared and it lead me here.

I see myself on the sofa with a girl. I look away but it’s hard to. I can’t look anywhere else. She’s kissing me and I don’t want to kiss her. Everything she ever said to me comes rushing back. This is my worst memory. It’s not terrible, it’s not life-ending or something that means I need therapy, but Isobel was horrible to me. We do silly things when we feel lonely and that’s why I decided to go around her house so much. To sit and let her insult me and call me pathetic and say my dreams weren’t valid.

Her too-long blonde hair is falling over my face and I remembering it tickling. I want to leave, but Teague’s already there. I don’t want him to see this.

I turn but he grabs my arm. He looks to the image before him. He smirks and looks back to me.

‘I can feel how scared you are,’he says. ‘Do you realise how long it took me to do all the research, all the work to get me to this point? And you come along and try to throw it all down the drain.’

‘Look,’ I say, tearing my arm from his grasp. He has no control over me here. ‘Don’t think I’m scared of you for a second.’

‘Take me out of here,’ Teague commands. ‘Now.’

‘You can’t tell me to do anything,’ I reply. ‘You can’t hurt me in here.’

He shakes his head. ‘So arrogant. Don’t you realise that I’m doing important work.’

‘And my life isn’t important to you?’ I reply. ‘Why else would you research into the dead if that wasn’t important.’

‘Because the discovery outweighs the means,’ he snaps. ‘Don’t you realise how monumental this is? How much I’ve done for science, for the world. I can’t stay connected to someone who’s passed.’

‘So your life outweighs mine, that’s what you’re saying?’

He puts his hand to his forehead like a headache’s sprung from nowhere. ‘Dead? What is dead? You shouldn’t be afraid of what comes next? I’m doing you a favour!’

‘You’ve got a severely twisted view of the world if that’s your idea of a favour.’

Teague looks at me and for the first time I see some truth in his gaze. No malevolence, no malice, no desperation. It’s like he’s sorry for me.

‘We all move on,’ he says. ‘We all end up the same. The world isn’t full of spirits. They go somewhere else in the end.’

I hadn’t expected him to say that. Something I’d thought myself not long ago. But then he’s in my memories. How much of me does he know? He knows I’m a scientist, so he plays to my love of knowledge. He knows I doubt and question everything I come across, so now he brings that up.

‘But I’m not ready,’ I say. And the scene changes. There’s no Edge this time. One second we stand in Isobel’s living room, the waves of my anxiety breaking beside us. The next we’re on Kingston high street. Night has fallen, and me and Penny walk home together after one of our many trips to the cinema there. The cold of the evening bites at my exposed neck but I’m glad to leave the stifling warmth of Isobel’s living room. I welcome the cold, and the silence of a town past 10.

‘Oh of course.’ He sighs. ‘A girl, a man, a wife, a husband, an attachment that keeps you here. I understand, believe me, I do, but what comes next is better for everyone.’

‘How do you know that?’ I snap, tearing my eyes away from myself and my girlfriend. We’re laughing. The sad thing is, I can’t remember what we laughed about.

If I’ve learnt anything so far, it would be to appreciate the tiny moments you never think you need to remember. I want to know what we laughed about that day, because those days are the ones you forget, yet the bad ones stick out like beacons, dragging us towards them letting us dwell on them forever. I wish I could forget the bad days, that day on the sofa, and the day I died.

‘I know because I’ve made it my life’s work to know,’ he says. ‘I know that there is something afterwards.’

‘And how can you prove that, exactly?’ I demand. ‘The mysterious Teague clicks his fingers and I fly away into nothing. Do you understand what you’re asking? I died three days ago and now you’re asking me to die all over again when I find out that life goes on.’

‘But I’m dying!’ Teague says.‘Our connection is…unnatural.’ He takes a second to choose his words. ‘The dead and the living are not supposed to come together like this. When you touched the handprint on the wall, you brought death to me, you put me in a state that I can’t reverse.’

‘And that’s my fault? My first impression of you nearly blew a hole in the earth, you’ll forgive me for not trusting your scientific judgement.’

‘I don’t want to die,’ he says.‘I have knowledge to offer the world…’

‘And so might I have before I died, before everything was taken from me,’ I interrupt. ‘How do you know what I was going to go on to do? You can’t just weigh people’s importance like that.’

Teague crosses his arms. Defeated but opening the floor to me.

‘Well then,’ he says. He sounds agitated, like a petulant child has ruined his day. ‘What do you suggest we do?’

‘We find another way,’ I say. ‘I don’t want this connection any more than you. If you ask me you should be locked away. You’ve put people in danger and if it wasn’t for a rich boy in a basement you’d have hurt them.’

I grab his hand. ‘I just hope we can find them again.’

Above the Vaulted Sky - Page 98

                ‘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.

Above the Vaulted Sky - Page 96

            ‘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.

Above the Vaulted Sky - Page 95

            ‘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.’