Paranormal Investigations

  Chapter 11: Things to do when dead in London

  All around me the dead of the twentieth century were wondering what to do with themselves. Not all were as determined as George Eliot who had already marched off to find an agent or Karl Marx who... well we all know what Karl Marx had marched off to find. Some just looked around, shaking their heads in wonder. I looked around half expecting to see a catering van and a lighting truck. However - if these were extras in a film their make-up would have looked more realistic. These guys just looked ill.

  "You did it," Bob said as he approached me, rubbing his freed wrists "you did it!" Bob looked so happy. His face was completely at ease. He looked well, considering the long and scary night he had just come through.

  I opened my mouth and then closed it again. I was still a little confused. What should I do next? There was still a cemetery full of the un-dead dead to deal with, they hadn't reverted back to being dead with the end of the rings power.

  "What should we do about these guys?" I asked him, pointing at the zombies who had once been the great and good of Victorian London. "We can't just unleash them on London. They'd never survive for one thing."

  "Can they live here?"

  "I'm not sure they'd want to - I mean, it is a reminder that you are dead. Also it's bit of a tourist trap. I'm not sure what the Americans would make of them. They need somewhere where their slightly... sleepy and creepy appearance doesn't look odd."

  One of the un-dead dead stretched and yawned. Give him a newspaper and a cup of coffee and he could have been a commuter.

  I smiled, "I've got it! Just down the hill we have good tube links. There are even dozens of unused stations closed up across all the lines. They could live at Aldwych for example!"

  Bob didn't say anything, but I could see he would just agree with whatever plan I mooted. I realised I was Fred in the Scooby gang to his Shaggy. I guess that made Trevor Scooby Doo. Scratch that - Scrappy Doo, he was always up for a fight against bigger dudes.

  Bob and I managed to gather most of the un-dead around us and I told them about the tube system. Most of them had travelled on the old Victorian cut and shut lines in life so it wasn't completely new to them. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than anything else I could think of. No one would notice them on the tube. They would just look like commuters.

  Some of them had formed informal groups and once I had explained the idea they drifted off to discuss it in private. There were many glances over the shoulders as they talked. Then a male figure stepped forward. He wore a top hat and morning suit. He took off the hat to address me. What a gentleman.

  "Madam, I am Edwin Jaxon Crabtree the third and I have been elected spokesman for the..."

  "Spokesperson!" a woman in the suffragette colours of white, green and violet piped up.

  The man nodded to her. "Forgive me Millicent. I am the spokesperson for the newly un-dead peoples of Highgate. I would like to discuss our ideas and questions with you - the representative of the living of London."

  I didn't feel very alive at this time in the morning that was for sure. I stifled a yawn and did my best to listen.

  "My men... sorry Millicent, people would like assurances that they will not be pressed into the service of the holder of the ring."

  "Nope."

  "I'll take that as your oath ma'm."

  "We want to fight prejudice!" another man shouted, "Tell her Edwin! No prejudice against the un-dead!"

  The spokesman looked a little annoyed. "I was just getting to that Stanley. We want to be acknowledged as the un-dead dead and not zombies." He turned back to the group of un-dead dead, "Was that the word you used Fred?"

  Fred nodded. "We don't want or need brains and there is no need to pummel our heads in with a blunt instrument."

  Fred looked a little more modern than the rest of them, his sideburns and flares suggesting he had been a late sixties addition to the cemetery.

  "Yes," Edwin Crabtree continued, "we would like to avoid prejudice. We did not ask to be resurrected and would like to avoid any repercussions upon ourselves for the actions of the ring holder."

  "Oh, I didn't bring you back." I told him, "that was nothing to do with me."

  "As the ring holder you must take responsibility."

  Great. "Very well. You are not zombies, you don't want brains and you were quite happy to be dead and did not ask to be resurrected. Is that it?"

  Edwin Crabtree looked back to his constituents. They nodded. He looked back to me. "That is all. Now for the fine print..."

  Something told me Edwin Crabtree had been a lawyer in life.

  The negotiations finally ended about an hour later and it was agreed they would go into the underground system as refugees. At least the dark would be what they were used to and being underground would be reassuring for those who had newly left their graves. One of the un-dead dead, who had not been part of the group negotiations, was already trying to dig himself back into his grave.

  In gratitude most of them wanted to shake my hand which was a bit freaky as the un-dead had worse skin than trolls, but I thought it would be churlish to ignore their thanks. And apparently I was the ring holder and that meant something to these people. I made a mental note to find some anti bacterial cleanser later. The worst of the skin flakes I just flicked off on to the grass.

  A few of the un-dead dead remained in the cemetery - those with large, comfy tombs anyway - but most of them began to move off with the dawn, shuffling out of the gates and down the hill towards the tube station. Dawn of the dead - literally. One dead, sorry un-dead dead architect was already sizing up his tomb as a piece of prime London real estate. It wouldn't be long before some commuter moved in and did the place up in black and white granite and parked a beamer out the back.

  I watched them slink off down the hill and when the last of them was gone I sat down on a gravestone, by an open grave, and put my head in my hands and had a damn good cry. Poor Bob and Trevor didn't know what to do, so after a tentative pat on the back they went off to buy breakfast and coffee. By the time they came back with McDonald's bags of fast food I was cried out and felt a little more steady. I was alive - that was what mattered - and I had made a promise to myself to tell Jez how I felt. Before I lost my nerve I pulled out my phone. There was a tiny amount of battery life left. I pressed to dial his number which was still top of my speed dial list. It rang three times, each ring making me twitch with nerves, before it went on to voicemail - hardly surprising given the time.

  "You are through to Jez. If you leave a message I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible."

  I took a deep breath and began to speak, then I realised it hadn't even beeped to record yet. I steadied myself, fingers gripped like a sweaty vice around the phone.

  It beeped.

  "Hi Jez... it's Leo here." I walked as I talked, "Er... so hi. Erm, look I was wondering if I could erm... Look Jez, I really need to see you. Please call me back. And I guess if you don't I'll take that to mean you're not interested in talking and sorting things out. Because we have things to sort out, don't we? I think? I... I need to speak to you. I..."

  My handset beeped it's last and the battery faded. Geez, eloquent or what? I could always blame a complete lack of sleep for my witterings.

  I walked back to Bob and Trevor and took the paper bag Bob held out to me. It was warm so I clung to it like a hot water bottle.

  The three of us sat and ate our assorted cheap and nasty breakfast goods and could not think of one word to say to each other. It was a sleepy silence. Until Trevor began on his milkshake. However, this morning I could even forgive Trevor his milkshake slurping. The boy had come good, as a football commentator would say.

  My stomach took on board the food with the best grace it could and I hoped I wouldn't be seeing it again, but it was too early to tell.

  "Do you think I'm safe now?" Bob said eventually, after finishing his Egg McM
uffin and scrunching the wrapper into a small ball that he deposited back into the bag.

  Trevor burped loudly and proudly. It was a big sound for a little guy.

  "I guess if they wanted you dead they would have done it before leaving. Perhaps they just don't care now the ring is useless? Perhaps you no longer matter to them?" as I spoke I looked at the ring still glittering on my hand. Did I dare take it off? I needed to ask someone a little more knowledgeable about weird things. "I think it's safe to assume the fairies have no more interest in you."

  Bob nodded. "Good. I can get a job then. I am free of the fairies for good." He smiled. "I can start afresh!"

  I sighed. Bob was free of his burdens, but mine were only just beginning - I had yet to figure out what all this Seer stuff was about and then there was the issue of my father and his... background. He needed to answer some questions. He had said he would be here at the end. It was time for him to talk.

  I collected the rubbish from the boys and walked over to the nearest litter bin.

  "Okay dad!" I called out in a loud whisper, "You said you would be here at the end - this is the end - where are you?"

  "Here." he said a second after appearing behind the litter bin. His watch was beeping rapidly and he hit it to stop it with his other hand. He looked as if he could have come straight from our last meeting during the night before. His face was sad and he looked more tired than I had ever seen him before.

  I looked to see what Bob and Trevor's reactions would be to this man appearing out of the ether. Nothing. They carried on finishing their drinks. I suppose you must stop noticing weird things after a while. Especially if you were a troll or a half goat man.

  "Come," dad said, "let's walk. We've got a lot to talk about and time is short."

  "You don't say."

  I left Bob and Trevor happily slurping and dad and I followed the path around the now less-than-tranquil cemetery. It did rather look like it had been a big night for grave robbers or experimental bombers.

  "As soon as I've gone you and your friends need to get out of here before someone raises the alarm. This isn't going to look good on the news."

  I nodded. "Grave robbery never does. And that's what it's going to look like, isn't it?" There was no other way to explain the devastation before us. Not unless you believed in bad assed supernatural dudes and rings with the powers of resurrection, that is.

  "Well you did it Leo," he said, sitting on a bench on a hill. He patted the space next to him and I sat down.

  "You always knew I would, didn't you?"

  He shrugged. "You're a clever girl. I never doubted it." His eyes fell on the ring on my finger. He took my hand in his hand and held it up. "See, I said you were already married in my time stream."

  "What? Oh no... this was... no!"

  My father nodded sagely. "I told you the future was pretty much unchangeable. The ripples on the pond may change direction, but they still ripple."

  "But...no! You didn't tell me this would happen! I didn't really marry that - that ghoul?" So much for being the mad woman with cats - I had married the mad man with zombies instead.

  "You made a vow and exchanged a ring."

  "That'd never stand up in court. And it's not legal, nothing was signed."

  "It was spiritual. The earliest weddings were spiritual in holy places, only governments like pieces of paper to be signed. It's tidy enough for them to file that way. That part of weddings is a very modern invention. He never set such conditions."

  "But... I can't be married!"

  "You made an oath on holy ground sweetie. To Him you are married."

  "Your former boss thinks I am married?"

  "You are. And to him, the hooded man. The hooded man knows what you've done, he knows you two are now linked. He will be thinking on this and working out his next steps." Dad frowned, "I wish there had been another way - but it was always going to end like this. The hooded man was slightly thrown by the evening's events, but he'll be back and you need to be careful of him. The two of you are linked now, forever. My ex employer does not believe in the dissolution of holy marriage."

  "But... but..." Shit. I had been 'married' less than a minute before already becoming a domestic abuse victim. The side of my face still throbbed from where he had whacked me and now I was being told there was no way out. We'd see about that!

  Dad shrugged. "Sorry sweetie. It's done. It was the only way. You had to do it."

  He let me sit in silence for a moment as I took in the shock.

  "But I don't even know his name."

  "You will. In time."

  "Can't you tell me?"

  "I can't mess with your future, I could only show you your past. It's against all the laws of... of the laws people like me had to abide by. And still do."

  "And what if I want to marry someone properly? Like - someone I actually love?"

  Dad shrugged. "You'll work things out in time. Now - we do have other matters to talk of I'm afraid. You still have work to do."

  "Hey, I got Bob out of this fix. Job done."

  "That was only the start. The fairies will think of other ways to push at the boundaries of mankind's world - they still think it's theirs you see and will do anything to win it back - even making allegiances with people like... well like your new husband."

  "Don't call him that."

  "You'd better get used to it. It changes things."

  I pouted. I had wanted to marry Jez - if anyone. How was I going to explain this to the man I loved, the man I had pledged to reveal my love to if I survived? Damn it, why couldn't life be easy? What would he think if he saw a ring on my finger?

  "Do I have to keep it on my finger?" I asked my dad, "To keep it from being all resurrectiony?"

  "I don't know. Perhaps it is wise to at least keep it on your person. I don't know if it needs to stay on your finger. Could you try keeping it on a chain around your neck?"

  "Okay."

  He leant close. "Keep your eyes open Leo, be sure of your friends and even more sure of your enemies."

  "I don't have enemies."

  "You do now."

  "Great. Do a guy a good turn and his enemies become yours. I failed then - he, that hooded man, can come back and do whatever he wants. I didn't stop him, just put him off for a bit."

  "You didn't fail - you stopped the ring being used as a tool of power. You were never meant to stop him - this was a battle not the whole war. It's a small part of the whole and to him it already happened and could not be changed. There's so much more I want to tell you Leo - I just don't have time. I suppose you'll just have to figure it out for yourself."

  "Why do you always harp on about time? That watch beeps all the time and you're off, no matter whether I need you or not. It's bad enough I never had a mum to help me in my life, but at least she had a good reason. You just waltz in and out of my life when you feel like it."

  "I don't have a choice Leo. I had to make some tough decisions."

  "You're never there when I need you!" I sounded just like a sulky teenager, but I couldn't help it - he hadn't seen enough of my sulky teenager at the time so he was getting it now.

  "I've always been there when you really needed me Leo, that's when I was with you. When you needed me. Think about it."

  I did. I thought about all the times he had deigned to turn up in my life. I could easily count them on my two hands. The night I came home from school sobbing because I was being bullied. He had turned up then with Tiddles, taught me how to care for the cat that I now knew was actually a baby griffin. He had wiped my tears and tucked me up in bed. Once he had sat with me in the college library testing me on A Level Literature the night before my exams. There was the time he turned up with cake just after Jez left. I think I told him to eff off then, but true - he turned up and I did eat a mouthful of the cake he left before leaving it to moulder in the fridge. It was good cake, but I was too m
iserable to take pleasure in it.

  "Even if you did occasionally turn up," I said, "that doesn't amount to a hell of a lot of time over the course of one life time."

  He looked at his watch. His eyes appeared to be glinting with tears. Surely not? Surely my dad couldn't cry? "No," he shook his head. "Over the course of your life time it amounts to twenty three hours and thirty seven minutes."

  "Huh?"

  He looked at me. His eyes were full of tears. "Leo - what do you remember of the night your mother died?"

  "Nothing." That was a lie, but to be fair it was the lie I told myself.

  His eyes bore deep into me. "What do you remember?"

  I shrugged. "It was night. It was dark and cold."

  "We were out at a fireworks display," he said, "it was the fifth of November. There was an enormous bonfire and a guy being burnt at the very top. We were probably too close, but everyone was. Health and safety would never allow it these days. You were little, it had just been your third birthday and I lifted you on to my shoulders so you could see everything. You held a sparkler in your hands. You were wearing new gloves. Birthday gloves. Your face was lit up in pure joy, as if it was the most exciting thing you had ever seen. Then the fireworks began to go off. It was the most beautiful display and stood beside the two people I loved most in the world I knew I had done the right thing in becoming mortal. When He created us, the angels, He had not realised that in sparing us pain and old age and death He was also depriving us of love and life and joy. It was one of the best nights of my life, alongside the night I met your mother, when I married her and the night you were born. I counted myself a very fortunate man that night. I was filled with love and joy."

  Did I remember that night? How could I tell if my memories were of that night and not of some other fireworks display on a later year? Of course - it had been the last time we were all together, because later that night my mother had died. That was a black hole in my life that I refused to peep into.

  My father looked at me. "Do you remember how your mother died?"

  "No - and I don't want to so don't remind me please."

  "Do you remember how I died?"

  I looked at him in shock. My stomach opened into a wide swirling pit. "You?"

  He looked at his watch again.

  "You died?" I repeated. "How? I... but..."

  He took my hand in his own and looked into the distance. A tear rolled down from his eye. "I have been living this one day for twenty two years Leo. It's hard to make twenty four hours last your daughter's life time so I picked the most important moments, the ones where you really needed someone in your corner."

  "I don't understand." My voice was so choked with tears it was painful to talk.

  "I made a bargain at the end - one day to spend with my daughter, but I've not been playing fair Leo. I've been taking parts of that day at different times and now my time is out."

  I grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch. It was counting up to twenty four hours and read 23:48. "Twelve minutes? That's all you've got left?"

  He put his arm around me and pulled me close. "Perhaps we could just watch the sun rise together?"

  "But there are so many things I want to talk about, things I need to know..."

  As a large sob escaped from me I nestled into the nook of his arm. Looking at the sun neither of us had to see the tears flooding from our eyes, although it was harder to ignore the shaking that the sobs were racking from our bodies.

  The sun rise was a pretence for ignoring the imminent and inescapable future of the next twelve... eleven... ten minutes. The sun was no more beautiful than usual which seemed wrong. Surely if it was going to be someone's last sun rise it should look more than the usual mediocre ball of yellow in the sky fighting through morning mist? It should be a thing of awe and beauty.

  "Daddy?"

  "Yes sweetie?"

  "I'm sorry I wasn't a better daughter."

  He pulled me close and kissed my forehead. "I couldn't have wished for a better one." He pulled me close into a hug.

  Fathers are not meant to cry. They are meant to be strong and calm and the rock to which a child can anchor themselves. To see your father cry is the worst thing in the world because it tells you the world is a bad and painful place, that even fathers need to sob out their pain sometimes.

  "Daddy?"

  "Yes?"

  "I love you."

  "I know you do."

  I pulled my arms tight around his neck as if I could keep him from slipping away. His watch beeped and I wrapped him closer, closer, closer and then he was gone. There was nothing left. He was gone.