Perceptions (16) ‘There was more than one?’ ‘Two. They work as a pair. One is a killer. They lure girls to a house out of town, then drug them, rape them, and use them for pornographic computer images which they broadcast on the Internet for profit.’ ‘How do you know all this?’ ‘I saw it all in Lara’s memory. For a while, I was Lara.’ Raising myself from the floor, I looked beyond Sonia and realised we were not alone. Roy, Sammy, and Louie, plus a few other spirits with an associated interest in the proceedings, were all watching me. There was quite a gathering. ‘Welcome back, buddy,’ Roy said. ‘That was amazing, Mark,’ added Sammy.’ ‘Real spooky, man,’ Louie chipped in. ‘What was?’ I asked, glancing at all the faces. ‘You don’t remember bouncin’ off the ceiling?’ I looked hard at Roy. ‘No. But I remember throwing Sonia clear from - we touched!’ I gasped. ‘It’s coming back now! The last thing I saw before I became a spiritual part of Lara.’ I reached out to Sonia and saw my hand go right through her. ‘You’re transparent again.’ ‘It was the Recall,’ explained a member of the ghouls’ fraternity, coming forward. She was an old woman with grey hair and a round-faced motherly appearance. ‘Recall?’ ‘Yes, dear,’ she said. ‘In some cases, where the soul leaves a dying body, it can be recalled if the desire of the soul is strong enough to maintain its spiritual link. There’s a vital moment between life and death when the body tries to reclaim the departing soul, the spirit, by issuing what’s termed a Recall. Any spirit within distance, and it doesn’t matter how many there are, can be summoned into a dying material body as it attempts to fight for its life. That’s how you sometimes end up with a person who has a multitude of personalities inside them. The entities fail to escape the Recall and get - ’ ‘Sucked in?’ ‘In a sense, yes. A spirit entering this Recall zone can assume temporary substance just before it re-enters the body, and may even be seen by a living being. I’ve seen it myself. I must say, it freaked me out the first time I witnessed it.’ I was amazed. It was my turn to say it: ‘How do you know all this?’ ‘I was a spiritualist-medium before I died,’ she said, and a murmur followed the revelation. It was news, apparently, to everyone around. ‘I discovered I could see and communicate with the spirits of the dead when I was 12. Now I’m one of them.’ ‘When did you pass away?’ ‘Oh…about ten minutes ago. They won’t have even noticed yet. I heard all the commotion in this area and came to see what was happening. I’m glad I did. Sonia told me what you did. My name is Irene, by the way; and that was a very selfless gesture on your part. Poor Lara could have had quite a party if all three of you had been Recalled into the same body.’ ‘This is fantastic!’ Sammy crowed, entering the conversation. ‘Not that you died, I mean. I’m sorry and all that, but you can’t understand what this could mean to all of us. Me especially. Someone like you can help us all in the spiritual world.’ ‘Well, I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee I have all the answers.’ ‘Hey… people, somethin’s happening with Lara!’ Roy’s intervention reminded us why were all here in the first place. He made his way closer as the doctors’ excitement became noticeable. They were winning their battle, as Lara was winning hers. I glanced over at the monitors and saw that her life-signs were strong. ‘You can do it, Lara,’ I breathed. ‘Is she coming round?’ Irene asked. ‘Yeah’, Roy said. ‘She’s not looking too cocky, though.’ ‘Can anyone translate that, please?’ ‘Lara’s still looking fragile,’ Sonia informed her. ‘He’s a Yank,’ Sammy whispered to Irene. ‘Oh, I see,’ she replied, with a smirk. ‘I think she’s going to make it,’ one of the doctors kindly, though not intentionally, informed us all. Fortunately for them they couldn’t see or sense the surrounding presence of so many of their less lucky ex-patients, or they would have totally flipped. There was a cheer from the spirit Union to my rear and everyone seemed pleased. ‘What’s wrong?’ Sonia asked me, noticing my frown. ‘Lara’s strong, but she’ll be traumatised when she regains consciousness.’ ‘I expect so. Nearly strangled then stabbed twice - Lara told me. It can’t leave her mentally unscathed. It’s going to be tough for her.’ ‘Well, she isn’t going to recover quickly enough to give the police any help in catching those sadistic bastards. They could be out there any night soon, waiting for the next pretty young victim to pounce on.’ ‘What can we do about it?’ ‘I don’t know. That’s another thing that’s troubling me.’ ‘She’s whispering something, guys,’ Roy interjected. Sonia and I turned our attention on current events. However, my mind was still out of sync, the fallout perhaps, of the joining with Lara. It was disturbing me; the agony her soul had imparted on me when I had rescued her from her self-imprisonment. Lara would need help, but who better than me could truly understand the depths of what she would later endure, when her body was fit? Her mind most certainly wouldn’t be. ‘Is she speaking Chinese? What the hell is she saying?’ Roy’s brow was creased. A doctor with his ear pressed to Lara’s mouth in an effort to hear her frail mumblings was in his way. ‘Her mind and soul aren’t co-ordinating,’ Irene put in. ‘Her words right now will be unintelligible. We have to wait.’ ‘She’s trying to tell him who did this to her,’ I said, the name of Pete Daly coming into my head. ‘How’d you know that?’ Roy asked. ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ Sammy concluded. ‘It is?’ ‘Of course! Tell him, Mark.’ Put on the spot, I glowered at Sammy. A few faces were looking at me. ‘I’m not sure how, but I can still hear Lara - not clearly, only faint whispers, sort of. I don’t know how to explain it, but I know Lara is trying to tell them who was responsible.’ ‘She knows their names?’ Sonia was surprised. ‘One of them; the young one who does all the amorous luring.’ ‘What are we talking about?’ Irene was not in the whole picture. ‘My merge with Lara revealed to me the events leading up to her abduction and the identity of her attackers,’ I said, loudly enough for every spirit present to hear. ‘If anybody knows of a way to communicate it to the living, please let me know. The police have to stop these guys, and fast.’ ‘What can we do?’ lamented an unknown man. ‘We’re only ghosts.’ ‘I’ve been trying to contact my wife since I died in here three months ago,’ said another.’ ‘We’re powerless,’ added another, ‘except in throwing a tantrum.’ ‘Sammy’s got the leading rights in that department,’ Roy weighed in. ‘He’s an expert in crapping out the livin’.’ ‘They should’ve let me die,’ Sammy protested. ‘Why didn’t they let me die?’ Louie’s head nodded like a toy dog on the parcel-shelf of a car. ‘There has to be away,’ I said. ‘I know one or two mediums that might be able to help us,’ Irene said. ‘Good friends of mine. But it won’t be easy, mind. Communicating with the dead is a two-way thing, and if either side isn’t listening, nothing works.’ ‘Doctor’s leavin’,’ interceded Louie, drawing our attention back to the source. ‘Fine time for a pee,’ Roy said. ‘I heard them mention something about telling the cops about Lara,’ somebody said. ‘Is that a good thing?’ Irene wondered out loud. ‘Why?’ Sonia was puzzled at the question. ‘Well, if the police make it public, perhaps these men might want to come in here and silence her permanently.’ There was a general murmur of agreement at that statement. ‘So what do we do about it?’ Sammy asked. Here we go again, I thought. ‘I’d like to give these guys a personal visit,’ I said, ‘and frighten them into confessing.’ ‘Sammy’s good at frightening people - send him.’ ‘I’m going to follow that doctor and hear what he has to say,’ Sonia whispered to me. ‘I’ll be back.’ ‘I can’t leave the building, Roy. Remember?’ Roy cursed. ‘I want to go,’ I said. ‘I know what they look like and where they hang out. It has to be me.’ ‘What can you do?’ Irene wanted to know. ‘Are you sure you can leave the hospital in your condition?’ Sammy pointed out. ‘What condition is that?’ Irene looked at me, frowning. ‘You are different, I have to say; both you and Sammy.’ ‘We’re not dead, exactly,’ I explained succinctly and without the frills. ‘Both of us are in a coma.’ ‘That’s interesting.’ ‘Not to us it isn’t,’ Sammy disputed. ‘We’re stuck here. We can’t leave this building. I don’t want to stay like this forever. My wife is waiting.’ He pointed upwards. ‘How come you’re a ghost, if you don’t mind my asking?’ Irene regarded me blankly. ‘Are there rules?’ ‘I don’t know, but most of us here have died in tragic circumstances, or are hanging around waiting to die, like myself and Sammy.’ ‘He has a point, Irene,’ Sammy agreed. ‘Are you sure you weren’t killed?’ ‘Well… ’ Irene glanced at both of us. ‘I don’t believe anyone would want to kill me, and I died quietly in my bed, alone. I was 89. No hit man was required.’ ‘What was your ailment - if it isn’t personal?’ I inquired. ‘Angina.’ ‘That isn’t fatal.’ ‘I suffered a massive heart attack, right after the nurse told me I would be just fine so long as I got plenty of rest.’ ‘I don’t reckon much on your chances, Mark, pal,’ Roy assured me, benignly. ‘Let’s hope Lara doesn’t get your nurse, Irene,’ added Sammy, stabbing again to make sure. ‘Well, here’s a fine source of hope,’ I mumbled. Sonia returned at that moment. ‘It’s okay everyone. The cops are going to withhold broadcasting the news until Lara’s sufficiently recovered to talk. I heard them talking about keeping her condition out of the press until they have something positive.’ ‘Well, that’s somethin’, then,’ Roy said. ‘Not much.’ They looked at me. ‘We don’t know when these guys will strike again.’ ‘So what do we do about it?’ Sammy asked. I looked at him with a scream on my face. It was just as well that Irene distracted me with a well-timed question. ‘What makes you believe you can’t leave the building, Mark?’ ‘Sammy said.’ She nodded. ‘Have you tried?’ I frowned. ‘No.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Because…’ ‘Because Sammy said so.’ Irene read my face. ‘And that was good enough? Why not have a go?’ It was important enough. Lives were at stake. Considering the chances that Sammy was a desperate no-hoper, maybe he was wrong about being restricted to the hospital in our comatose state. Daylight. Real daylight. I stood at the main reception entrance of the hospital with Irene and Sonia. Behind us were the rest of my newfound friends waiting to see what would happen to me when I stepped outside of my supposed confinement, like a vampire about to test his theory about daylight. In front of us was a posse of die-hard newshounds eagerly awaiting news about Lara, facts that would give them a story that some of them would be quite happy to kill for; news that might put Lara’s life once more in jeopardy. They still didn’t even know her identity, her name. Lara was just another statistic, another woman on the ever-growing list of wasted lives. She was just another face that would make the headlines and then be forgotten after the event, whether she lived or died. ‘Look at them!’ cried Irene. ‘Vultures!’ spat Sonia. ‘They’re just doing their jobs,’ I said, ‘no matter what the cost.’ They posed no threat to us, even if they could see us, which they couldn’t. They were standing in groups, talking, collaborating, skinning facts and information from each other, the usual undertaking of journalist bloodhounds. ‘Go on, I dare ya to walk right through ‘em,’ Roy challenged me. ‘Chill their bones for a second.’ I needed a psychological boost right now, not to mention a diversion from my anger at the two evil bastards who’d slaughtered ten young women, so the thought of Roy’s proposition, at any rate, made me laugh. ‘If ever there was healthy temptation, then this is definitely it. See you later, folks. Here goes nothing.’ My first few steps were tentative. I didn’t look back, only forward, at the crowd I was planning to spirit through, wondering if any of them might feel or sense my presence. My eyes were on their faces, the individuals whose bodies I penetrated with every forward footing, and I grinned as some of them ceased their chatter abruptly, seemingly becoming aware of a disturbing prickly iciness that nipped them for a vital second, but which otherwise didn’t affect them. And was it the ghoulish element in me that wanted to scream ‘boo’ at all of them? I heard the laughter in the distance coming from Roy and the invisible bunch, loving the reaction form the crowd. Once I was clear of the media herd, I determined my destination and direction, gazed soulfully at the open city, and hurried on my way. No turning back. No invisible barrier to deter me. No Holy order to prevent me leaving my dying body. Irene had been right, and Sammy was wrong. My journey was a blur. I didn’t need to know my way around the streets, or take a cab. Mere thought was my transport. Time, distance and location were all rendered meaningless. Eat your heart out, Doctor Who. I arrived outside Foxy’s Disco never having been there in my life. At once, however, reality quickly re-established itself. In broad daylight, Foxy’s was an utter dive, a young person’s drinking/smoking/pick-up joint. To Lara, this was Entertainment Central? Shaking my head I walked around the outside, taking mental notes, gathering all I needed to know about Pete Daly and his murderous associate; how their minds worked if in case I failed to find them at the house they used for all their dirty work. Foxy’s stood in the High Street, an easy place to find, rich with pretty girls ready, able and hot on the pull; excellent in masking the quiet disappearing act of a sex-charged couple. Even now, did any one of Lara’s friends suspect that she was the girl starring in the latest real-life sex thriller? Had they missed her? Did they automatically presume she’d spent the night having sex? Weren’t her colleagues at work missing her? I could go to Lara’s flat, knowing from her memory where it was, but I didn’t have anything to gain. Yet there was that nagging feeling in my mind that Pete Daly might really carry out his threat to pay Jo a visit. He’d had Lara’s handbag in his possession, and there were items within that confirmed her name and address. Would Pete Daly bother to look? The detective in me was being too pedantic. For real answers, I should shoot straight over to the remote house that Daly had taken her to. I was astounded with the simplicity in which I was able to find it. A thought, and I was there in a blur. This was all too easy. Lara’s conscious memory was almost equivalent to being my own. The street, the house, the door number, even the bland 1960’s style decor of the door: everything was clear and precise. The neighbourhood was quiet. There wasn’t a soul on the street. A few parked cars; nothing moved.
Go to part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19
Copyright © 2003 J V Attard |