Ben had to return home eventually, and when he did, it was to find the man sitting on his front veranda waiting for him.
At first, Ben was so tired he didn't even realise the man was there. It was late and he'd spent all afternoon and most of the evening driving around town. The man sat halfway along the veranda concealed in shadows. As Ben shuffled up the steps and stabbed his key at the door, the man spoke.
"You're not going to find them until he wants to be found."
Ben jumped and the key skittered across the timber door, scratching the white paint.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Ben yelped. "I'll call the fucking police on you!"
"Ooh, the police," said the man. "Oh, please, don't call the police, I'm really scared."
In one smooth movement, the man stood up and grabbed Ben's wrist, pulling him close. "I'm your last hope," he whispered. "If you really want to save Kath, if you do love her, then you will listen to me."
"Who are you?" said Ben.
"Don't you know?" he said. "You should, you sent for me. I am, The Man Without a Shadow!" he said with a flourish.
"Excuse me?" said Ben. "The Man Without a Brain, maybe."
"Make fun if you will, Ben. But I'm the one you were asking about. I have no shadow. You know this, you saw it for yourself."
Ben sighed, and the man released his grip on his arm. "What are you?"
"Mind if we grab a beer?" said the man, pushing Ben's front door open and walking inside.
"Uh, sure," said Ben, hesitantly following. "No worries. Help yourself."
"Don't mind if I do," the man's voice drifted back from Ben's kitchen.
"Have you ever heard," said the man, sipping on a beer. "The old wives' tale about driving a stake into your shadow?"
"I've heard of it," said Ben. "My cousin used to want to try it but we could never time it right. Why?"
"Do you believe it?"
"About as much as I believe any other wives' tale," said Ben.
"Well, this one's true," said the man.
They'd moved through into Ben's living room and were now standing in the middle of it drinking beers. The man moved into the light so his shadow would be cast more strongly. If he had a shadow.
Ben could see where the man stood. He could see where the orange, late afternoon sun shone through the window, and where the shadows of the window panes and trees fell across the floor, but the man cast no shadow at all.
"What are you?" whispered Ben. He felt like throwing up.
"I am The Man Without a Shadow," said the man without a shadow, moving back out of the light.
"But that's not... it can't be... it's impossible," he finished, somewhat weakly.
"Do I need to show you again?" asked the man, moving back towards the light.
"No, that's fine, really," said Ben quickly. "I believe you. But how?" he said. "How could this happen? How is it even possible to not have a shadow?"
It's not possible, a high voice in his head whined. It's not possible at all. Kath's disappearance has made you go nuts. You're hallucinating all this.
Ben put a lid on that voice. If he was crazy, and Ben didn't particularly feel that he was, he'd soon be carted off by the proverbial men in white coats and all would be groovy. If he wasn't crazy, then it was quite possible this man might be able to help him find Kath.
"Who are you?" asked Ben.
"I told you, I'm the man—"
"Yeah, yeah. I know that already. The Maaaannnnnn Without a Shadoooowwwww," he trumpeted in a Pete "Saaaaaaalllllllllle of the Cen-tury" Smith voice. "But what's your name? I can't just call you 'you', or 'that guy'."
"Call me Shade."
Ben chuckled. "Shade, huh? Cute. Speaking of shades do you ever take yours off?"
Shade's hand drifted up to finger at the arm of his sunglasses. "I tend not to," he said. "It makes people uncomfortable."
"Why?" said Ben. "You got scars or something?"
"Or something," agreed Shade. He pulled off the sunglasses and looked steadily at Ben.
In the growing gloom of the lounge room, Ben wasn't quite sure what he saw. He unfolded out of the armchair and turned on the lounge room light. The chair groaned as Ben fell back into it, staring at Shade's eyes.
"Holy shit," said Ben. "What is going on with your eyes?"
Shade's eyes had no pupils. They were perfectly normal, spongy, veiny, white around the outside of a faded blue, almost grey retina. But the centre of his eyes, where his pupils should have been, was all white, as if someone had liquid-papered them.
"You're wearing contacts," said Ben. "That's all."
"Stop being an idiot," snapped Shade. "You've seen that I have no shadow. What more proof do you want than that? How could I fake not having a shadow?"
Ben sunk back down in his chair, cupping his head in his hands. "I don't," he muttered. "I don't know." He looked up at Shade. "Tell me how this is possible?"
"I'd tell if I knew," said Shade. "The fact of the matter is, I don't have a clue how or why it actually worked. All I know is it did."
"But how did you even know to do it?" Ben asked. "I mean, it's not exactly something they teach at school."
"The old wives' tale goes that if you drive a stake through your shadow in the middle of the day, your shadow will be impaled and tear from your body."
"But it's an old wives' tale," said Ben. "Even if it was true, why would you do it?"
"It is true," said Shade. "And why, well, you know I came out of Wungla. After I left school, I started researching these Shadoweaters, tracking them. I wanted to find the bastards who'd killed my family.
"I chased those fuckers up and down the coast, always just missing them. But, always, I saw the after-effects of their visits, and I saw something else, as well. My own shadow was starting to thicken and darken.
"One night, lying in bed, I heard muttered, murmuring noises in my room. I realised it was the sound of my shadow, inside my head."
"Jesus," said Ben.
Shade took another mouthful of beer.
"I lay awake the rest of the night, thinking about that old story and wondering if there might have been an element of truth to it.
"So the next day, I loaded myself with vodka, staggered out into the backyard and tried it.
"The craziest part was that it actually worked. I jammed that stake into my shadow and it stuck." He shook his head as if, even now, he couldn't fully believe it. "I stabbed it through there and god-damn me if it didn't stick my shadow straight to the spot. I hit it again, it took me a few goes and I swear I was about to pass out at one point. I did in the end, once it had finally torn free."
He paused and swigged from his beer bottle.
"It screamed," he went on in a low voice. "When I drove the stake through my shadow it actually started screaming." He shook his head. "That was the worst."
"That's a pretty big story to swallow," said Ben. He raised a hand as Shade started to protest. "I'm not saying I don't believe you," he said. "Not yet, anyway. Just that it's a lot to take in all at once."
"Is it really any harder to believe than what's going on around us, even as we speak?"
Ben sighed. "No," he said. "In perspective, it doesn't sound that unbelievable at all."
Still, he thought, it was one fuck of a tall tale. And he was still more tempted to believe he was insane than to believe that something insane was actually happening. And, he'd decided, if it meant finding Kath, he'd ride to hell and back on a unicycle with this nut.
"You said that I wouldn't find Neil unless he wanted to be found," said Ben. "What the hell does that mean? And for that matter what do you know about it?"
"I know some things," said Shade. "I know your friend Neil—"
"That cock-sucker's not my friend!"
"It's just a phrase. I know that Neil has been corrupted by the shadows. He doesn't realise it yet but they are controlling him, controlling his every move."
"Why?" said Ben.
"Because they can.
"
"That's ridiculous," said Ben. "It doesn't make any sense. Surely they must have an ulterior motive or something. A purpose."
"Think about it," said Shade. "It makes perfect sense. After countless millennia of being stuck to our heels, our lamp-posts, animals, whatever. Of living out their lives as no more than, well, shadows of us. Isn't it understandable that they'd relish the chance to turn the tables on us?"
"So they could possess me?" said Ben. "Or Kath? Start controlling us because they feel like it?"
"Only if you start killing people," said Shade. "It wasn't a casual allusion when I said the shadows are like vampires. They are. They feed off people, and every time your shadow absorbs a person, or their energy, it gets stronger. Until eventually it invades your body, whispering from inside your head what to do, so it sounds like your own thoughts."
"So as long as I don't kill anybody I'm okay?"
"Anybodies," said Shade. "You have to kill lots of people before the shadow has enough strength to take control."
"A lot?" said Ben, looking at him evenly.
"About five or six."
"So you're saying Neil must have..." he trailed off.
"That's right," said Shade. "He's already killed possibly half a dozen people."
"Then what the fuck are we doing here chatting about it?" Ben jumped to his feet. "We have to get out there and find this fucker before he kills Kath!
Ben raced for the door and Shade stopped him, restraining him with one arm.
"Let me go," said Ben.
"I already told you," said Shade implacably, "Kath is in no danger. Neil is trying to either win her back or use her to get to you. And if he wants either of those, and my guess is he'll go onto the second option if the first doesn't pan out, then he is going to need Kath alive. Okay?"
Ben struggled briefly for a moment more, then he sagged in Shade's arms.
"Okay," he said.
"There," said Shade. "That wasn't so hard now, was it? Now let's go and sit down and work out how we're going to get this guy to come out of the woodwork."
"You hungry?" said Ben as they sat back down.
"Nah. I don't eat."
Ben looked at him. "You're not hungry?"
"No," said Shade. "I don't eat. I don't need food."
"What are you, alcohol-fuelled?" Ben nodded his head at the empty stubbies.
Shade chuckled. "No. I just, I don't need food. It's another benefit of not having a shadow, you don't need to eat, you don't need to drink, and you don't get tired or need sleep."
"Okay, you're losing me again," said Ben. "I'm gonna order some pizza. You want some or not?"
"No, like I said—"
"I know, I know," said Ben, interrupting him. "You're a machine."
A few minutes later Ben came back in, thoroughly puzzled.
"What is it?" asked Shade.
"The weirdest thing," said Ben. "The number for the pizza place was disconnected and when I got through to Eagle Boys I got a recorded message saying they were closed until further notice. That's weird."
"Not so weird," said Shade. "Not so weird at all. It means the shadows are progressing. Looks like I got here just in time."
During the night, looters had gone on a rampage through the town, up-ending bins and smashing shop windows, and this morning there was still garbage strewn across the footpath and out across the road. Benches were tipped over in the gutters, the contents of a dozen stores had been strewn clear across the street and glittering glass lay like snow over everything.
The worst thing about it, thought Ben as he negotiated his way through the streets, wasn't the actual vandalism itself but the fact that no one was cleaning it up. In fact, the only sign of life was a handful of shopkeepers standing dumbly about amid the wreckage of their shops. How had it all gone so wrong, so quickly?
More and more, Ben felt a desire, the need, to get away. Pack his stuff and steal away like a thief in the night. If it weren't for Kath, he would have been gone already. First thing this morning he'd tried to call Rich, find out what was happening, had they found out anything. When he called, though, he'd managed to speak to only one person, a harried detective who didn't know where anybody was. He was the only one that had shown up today. He said he thought maybe a couple of officers were still out patrolling the streets.
Ben had tried Rich's house and got no answer, so he had to assume the worst. Rich was undoubtedly gone, spirited off to whatever nether-world lay beyond the shadows. If he was still alive he would have been back in touch with Ben, would have come to his house where, even now, Shade waited for him.
Ben swallowed dryly. Was he really going back to his house where that madman was? The sensible thing to do would be to aim his car at the nearest highway and make a beeline straight out of town. Hit the road, Jack, and don't you come back no more, no more.
And he could have, he really could have, if not for one thing.
Kathleen Bryce.
Ben tried to tell himself she was dead, he tried hard, but it wouldn't take. In all reality, he thought, she probably was dead, but there was no way his heart wanted to believe that.
When he reached the roundabout Ben indicated and turned back towards his house. His brain screamed at him to run away, get as far as he could from here but it was his heart he listened to.
His heart was saying stay. Stay and save the woman you love.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO