Spooking

 

Tom gradually got used to being in the Between Place and the strange things that happened. Marcus took him to all sorts of places at all sorts of times

“You can go wherever you like, whenever you like,” said Zeboth. “You just think about it.”

Somehow, Marcus explained it better. “You mustn’t go too far forward, though,” he said. “Or you won’t be any good when you go back. And you might spend weeks and weeks here, but you can still go back to seconds after you left a particular time thread.”

Zeboth and Rema didn’t really seem to be much help any more. Rema checked him over occasionally. She hardly ever had to make ‘adjustments’, as she called them.

“You really are the most remarkable ethereal specimen. I have never come across a body so easy to maintain.”

It was quite amusing seeing some of the ways they appeared: judge and barrister one time, two of Tom’s High School teachers another time, and even as clowns. He found he had more and more control over their appearance, but resisted some of the really funny things he might have done to them. On the whole, though, the two guardians spent most of their time chasing Marcus out of the way. Just occasionally Zeboth would ask the inevitable question.

“Are you any nearer finding out what needs to be done?” he would say.

Tom would just shrug his shoulders. Zeboth would look vaguely annoyed, but then that would be the end of the matter. Time in the Between Place went on. Tom showed Marcus round his world and Marcus took Tom back a couple of hundred years and taught him how to fish. Marcus played his usual tricks and Tom also enjoyed tripping someone up or knocking something over. One hot sunny day they dangled their feet in the muddy water of an estuary at low tide. Tom felt very peaceful, even though it did remind him a bit of where he’d crashed his car. He was just a little disturbed, though, because Marcus was very quiet and was frowning.

“What’s up?” asked Tom.

“It’s about time you made a start,” said Marcus. “You don’t want to end up like me.”

“But it’s all right, isn’t it? I mean you think it’s okay, don’t you?”

“Gets a bit boring sometimes. Anyway, they won’t let a mistake like me happen again. You know, they might think about sending you to the Bad Place.”

Oh, thought Tom.

“So, you’d better get on with it,” said Marcus. “I’ll come with you, if that helps.”   

“Will they allow that?”

“Course not,” said Marcus, grinning again now. “But they can’t stop me. They don’t know how to.”

“So what should I do?” 

“You reckon as it might be something you need to sort out with your girlfriend?” said Marcus. “Well, just think about her, as usual, and you’ll be there.”

Tom knew he had to go and visit Amanda. But he didn’t want to. Either she’d be really upset and he couldn’t bear that. Or she maybe wouldn’t be too bothered. He didn’t know whether he could bear that either. He didn’t know which would be worse.

“Go on then,” whispered Marcus.

Tom tried to think about Amanda. That soft hair, her delicate little body he always thought was going to break and that he wanted to protect, even when they were sleeping together, and those cute green eyes. Where should he try to go to her? In her room? No, that seemed too private. Just at her house. Try and catch her in the lounge, perhaps watching TV.

He concentrated really hard. The riverbank faded. He could almost see her house. He began to feel inside air rather than outside air. But it wasn’t becoming real. It was just as if he was only dreaming about it.

Then the river bank was completely back in focus. He could feel the wetness of the water on his feet.

“No good?” said Marcus. “Try somewhere you liked going with her. People go back to places like that after somebody dies. They like to remember them there. I remember when –“ Marcus stopped and stared into space.

“What?” asked Tom.           

“Doesn’t matter,” said Marcus. “So where did you like to go?”

Tom smiled. “Along the river bank, would you believe?”

All at once, they were on another river bank, walking along a path. Tom knew exactly where they were. “This goes down to the sea,” he said. “The river’s tidal here. We often used to walk into the next village this way and go for a drink. Sometimes she takes one of the neighbour’s dogs for a walk along here.”

“It’s nice,” said Marcus. “Blimey, who owns all them posh boats?”

Tom looked to where Marcus was pointing. He got what he meant. They must be worth thousands, if not millions. All of them, smartly painted hulls and shiny bits of metal. 

“Oh, it’s a bit like that here,” said Tom “Lots of money around.”

“I can see that.”

This wasn’t right. Tom suddenly knew that he had to be with her as soon as she got the news about his death.

“Who’d tell her the news?” Marcus again seemed to know exactly what Tom was thinking.

“My dad, I guess,” said Tom.

“Go to him then,” said Marcus. 

They were now at a third river bank. Marcus didn’t remark on the poshness of the boats this time. They seemed to be looking down at Tom’s dad’s quayside house. The police car was parked outside. It was as if someone was pushing a fast-forward button, because without walking through a doorway or even through a wall, seconds later they were inside the house and they could see the policewoman talking to Tom’s dad. They couldn’t hear what she was saying, but they saw him go white and put a hand in front of his mouth.

Then they fast forwarded again, and Tom’s dad was on his own. He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. He went over to the drinks cabinet, took out a glass,  opened a bottle of whisky and went to pour some.

Don’t, Dad, thought Tom.

His dad seemed to change his mind and went into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

They fast-forwarded again. The mug was empty. Tom’s dad still looked pale. He was sitting in his armchair, staring into space, the phone on his lap.

No, Dad, thought Tom, you can’t tell either of them that way. You’ve got to go to them.

Next they were in the car. Tom’s dad’s driving seemed erratic at times and he actually swerved quite badly at one point. Please, Dad, thought Tom. Don’t you have an accident as well.

He plunged for the steering wheel and tried to grab it. But his hand just floated through it. He really did seem like a ghost now. 

“Help, Marcus,” he called. “Help him to keep this wheel straight.”

Marcus drifted forward and took the wheel. He managed to hold it firmly and straighten out the car.

What’s the matter with me? thought Tom. He was physical enough, judging by the lump in his throat. And how come Marcus knew how to steer a car? They hadn’t been invented when he was alive. 

“Blimey. And there was me thinking how well you was doing with your spook body.”  Marcus  grinned.  “Still, it gave me a chance to try working one of these things, didn’t it? Clever, ain’t they? Who’d have thought it?”

Next, they stood facing the door to Amanda’s house with Tom’s dad. This was almost unbearable.

Amanda opened the door. She smiled so sweetly at them, her beautiful green eyes round with pleasure and surprise. Tom knew that if he hadn’t been dead already, he would have passed out with the dread of how that look was about to change.   

“Oh, Mr Grant, how nice to see you,” she chirped.

Tom couldn’t see his dad, but something changed in Amanda’s eyes, so he guessed she had seen something in his father’s face.

Get inside, Dad, thought Tom. Make sure there’s somewhere soft for her to sit down.

“Can I come in love?” Tom’s father said. “It’s better if we talk inside.”

It went quiet again. In the lounge he could see them talking, but he was up above them again and he couldn’t hear the words. Tom could see Marcus hovering in the corner, his gaze fixed on the conversation going on below.

Amanda screamed. It was unearthly. He thought that any second now she was going to join him. Would that be cool? Probably not. There was something he’d got to sort out first.

“Go to her! Help her!” Marcus was screaming.

Amanda’s mum rushed into the living room. Amanda was shaking and tearing at her hair, and making balls with her fists. Her mother took Amanda into her arms, held her and rocked her. She reached out one hand and held Tom’s dad’s arm also. The lump in Tom’s throat got bigger. He couldn’t move.

“Go on!” screeched Marcus. “Go to her. What you waiting for?”

Suddenly, Tom found some strength from somewhere. He swooped down to her and hovered when his face was level with hers. He could smell the perfume of her. Not any perfume that she was wearing, but just the normal light fragrance about her that matched her general delicacy. But there was something else, as well. Raw pain. He could feel her raw pain.   

She was staring right at him but she couldn’t see him. She seemed to look right through him. He put his hand out to touch her face. He could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers. It was good to be near her again. He tried to hold her, but his arms still seemed weak. 

It’s all right, he whispered. Death isn’t the end. I’m still here.

But she couldn’t sense him at all. He couldn’t give her any comfort.

What can I do? What can I do? he thought.  He couldn’t move any further. It was as if he was frozen.  He wanted to hug her, but he just couldn’t move. He could only watch her sinking deeper and deeper into her state of shock.

Marcus turned his back on him and drifted away.

This was it. He was a complete failure. He couldn’t do what he’d been brought here to do.

Tom felt as if he was falling heavily. Down, down, down. The whole room lightened up. Zeboth and Rema swooped towards him now fully fledged angels, complete with wings and everything, and carried him up and up. They were high above his dad’s house, now looking down on the Hampshire countryside, then high amongst the cotton wool clouds floating in the deep blue, feathers raining from the sky.

Tom felt incredibly sleepy. The fluffy clouds looked inviting. He felt the warmth of a soft duvet and the comfort of his cotton and silk mix pyjamas. He was in bed and drifting into a refreshing sleep. Just before he lost consciousness, he realised he had not slept for months. 

Find your copy here   

Spooking by Gill James

 

          Chapter Two

“The Between Place?” asked Tom. “What’s that?”

“It’s the place where you go if you ain’t quite ready to go to one of the other Places yet,” said Marcus.

Tom’s heart was thumping. This was really scary. Perhaps he was dreaming. He hoped so.

“How... how do they decide?” he asked, realising that he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer.

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Marcus. “Most people who come here go on to the Good Place eventually.” He looked very worried for a few seconds. Then he grinned. “In fact, everybody I’ve ever met here has gone on to the Good Place.”

“So, why couldn’t they decide when we first – died?” asked Tom.

“Oh, well, you know, you’ve just got to, sort of finish something off,” said Marcus. “Well, are you going to get up or what?”  

Tom swung his legs out of the bed and planted his feet on the floor. It was fine. He actually worked. He didn’t feel either dead or as if he’d just been in a serious accident. He felt completely normal. That was odd as well. He didn’t feel cold like you normally do when you get out of bed.  

“So, where are we exactly?” asked Tom.

“I ain’t sure,” said Marcus. “It’s just called the Between Place.”

“It must actually be somewhere,” said Tom.

Marcus just shrugged.

“It ain’t like where you used to live,” he said. “Things don’t happen in quite the same way. It’s all right, though. They look after you all right.”

“Well, where’s everybody else?” asked Tom. “How many people are here?”

“A few,” said Marcus. “They don’t normally like us to talk to each other. But I’ve been here so long that I can find me way around.”

“Why?” asked Tom. “Why have you been here so long?”

Rema was suddenly there.

“Out you go,” she said to Marcus. “I am sure you have got something better to do than pester Tom.”

Marcus disappeared.

“Can you stand up?” Rema asked Tom.

Tom put his weight on to his feet. It was fine. Normal.

“Good,” she said. “Now sit down on the bed.”

Rema struck the middle of his knee with small rubber hammer. His leg shot forward.

“This is excellent,” she said. “This is one of the best responses we’ve ever had.”

She held his head firmly between her hands and looked right into his eyes.

“Yes,” she said, “you’re ready. I’ll get Zeboth and you can start straight away.”

She floated backwards from him and seemed to change into Zeboth.

“Let’s go for a walk,” said Zeboth. “You may ask me questions as we go along.”

Well, that would be good. He could find out more about this place.  

“So where are we?” asked Tom.

“At the Between Place,” said Zeboth. “You are neither alive nor dead, in neither the Good Place nor on Earth.”

“Nor Hell,” mumbled Tom.

Zeboth nodded. “We try not to talk about that,” he said. “And anyway, we call it the Bad Place.”

“But where is this place?” asked Tom.

“Even if we could explain, you still wouldn’t understand,” said Zeboth.

“Do we eat and drink here?” asked Tom. “Or get older or sleep?”

“You don’t eat or drink, except in some special circumstances,” said Zeboth, “though at first you might feel hungry or thirsty. You won’t age. But you will sleep. This ethereal body will seem to get tired just like an earthly body, but it is actually the mind and the heart which grow weary. Sleep refreshes you and allows you to dream. You can often sort out what is to be done whilst you sleep. Whenever you feel tired, you just come back to your bed.”

“Well, do you have a map of this place or something?” asked Tom, suddenly realising that they were going along corridor after corridor which looked exactly the same: lines of tall arches which seemed to stretch on forever. There were also passages going off to the sides.

“You don’t need a map,” replied Zeboth. “You’ll find your way.”

“But it’s such a big place and it all looks the same,” said Tom.

“What do you actually see?” asked Zeboth.

“It’s like a gigantic church which goes on and on,” replied Tom.

“Interesting,” said Zeboth. “Church, that has an association with what you call Heaven – you must have realised you had died.”

“I just thought I was in some sort of old hospital or fancy rehabilitation centre,” said Tom.

“Yes, that also makes sense,” said Zeboth. “You were hoping you were in hospital because that would mean you were still alive. It will probably change, soon. But don’t worry. Any really important questions you have, I’ll be there before you even think it and Rema will be checking on your ethereal body from time to time. But we can’t help you with whatever it is that you need to do before you move on. That you must find out for yourself and then complete it.”

Zeboth disappeared then. No drama. He just wasn’t there any more.

Tom found himself now in a big open park. He didn’t remember stepping outside the building. Never mind, it was a good space to be in. It felt like fresh air and it was decidedly more cheerful than that freaky church place. He could hear mouth organ music again. 

“Oh, there you are,” said a now familiar voice. Marcus was standing just behind him. He was holding a football. He walked over towards Tom and he really was walking, placing his feet one in front of the other. Tom could hear the gentle thud each time. “Fancy a kick around?” asked Marcus.

Tom found himself nodding his head. He wasn’t a great football fan, but yes, kicking a ball about for a bit seemed like a good idea. It would stop him thinking too much. If there was going to be anything odd about this new type of body that would help him get used to it.

There wasn’t anything odd about it. It was just normal. He kicked the ball when it came his way. He felt the ground beneath his feet. He felt the edge of his foot against the ball. He could hear it bounce on the slightly hardened grass. He really was in a park. The trees were blowing in the breeze. He even thought he could hear the voices of children playing nearby, but when he looked around there was no one there. They ran around for twenty minutes or so and then they both flopped down to the ground, out of breath. It felt like grass underneath Tom’s hand and it smelt like grass which had recently been cut.

“So,” said Tom once he had got his breath back. “Do you see the same as what I see?”

“Well, what are you seein’ now?” asked Marcus.

“Have we just played football in a park?” asked Tom.

“Yeah,” said Marcus. “See, I can tell what people are thinking, so I fixed it that we played football.”

“Did I want to play football, then?” asked Tom.

“Well, you wanted to do something solid, “ replied Marcus. “I guessed football was the best bet.”

That was fair enough, Tom supposed.

“Well, is there a reason you look so pale to me?” asked Tom.

“Like I’ve been dead two hundred years,” replied Marcus.

“Two hundred?” said Tom. “I thought people didn’t stay here long.”

“I’m the exception,” said Tom. “It went a bit funny with me. I couldn’t quite do it. Mind you, I know how to make it all work here. It ain’t such a bad place to be stuck. You can have it exactly the way you want it with a bit of practice.”

“Do I look pale to you as well?” asked Tom.

“Yeah, you look like a ghost,” replied Marcus. “You know, like you’d expect if somebody was dead an’ all. What you make of the guardians here?”

“Guardians?” asked Tom. “Like guardian angels?”

“Ah, so you see ‘em as angels then?” said Marcus nodding his head and grinning. “Makes sense.”

It did, though Tom hadn’t realized that that was what he had seen. Yes, the long robes. The blond hair. They way they floated about and that music he’d heard when he first woken up – until it was interrupted by Marcus’ mouth organ. That was always the way he’d imagined angels to be – except that they would have wings.

“Except – “ he started.

“No wings?” said Marcus nodding. “Naw, you see, you didn’t quite want to believe you was dead.”

“So, what do I have to do?” asked Tom.

“I dunno,” replied Marcus. “Only you can know that. But there must be summat you need to finish off.”

Tom thought for a moment. He guessed it must be something to do with Amanda. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.

“I think you’re getting a clue, ain’t you?” asked Marcus.

Tom nodded.

“Don’t go there yet,” said Marcus, suddenly serious. “It’s best to practise first. Think of somewhere you’d just like to go that don’t mean all the much.”

“The canteen in my college?” asked Tom.

“Fair enough,” said Marcus.

“Well, how do I do it?” asked Tom.

“Just think about it hard enough, and you’ll be there.”

“Like I just float through the wall?”

“Oh gawd. Like a flippin’ ghost. Oh please! It just don’t happen.”

“Well, aren’t we ghosts, then?” asked Tom.

“No, we ain’t. There ain’t no such thing,” said Marcus. He had folded his hands across his chest and he was frowning.

“So, haven’t you been back and looked at the people you used to live with?” asked Tom.

“Of course,” said Marcus.

“And you’ve never floated through a wall?” asked Tom.

“Never!” shouted Marcus. He winced. “Well, except once, and that was a mistake.”

Marcus’ frown deepened.   “Well I guess we’re about the nearest to what they might be,” he said. “Now let’s get to that canteen. Think about it.”

Tom thought hard. The park disappeared and he was in a fog. Then out of the fog came the noise of cutlery and chatter. It gradually got louder and then he found himself standing in the middle of the canteen.

“Easy ain’t it?” said Marcus. He was grinning. He was no longer pale and he was wearing an exact copy of the clothes Tom had been wearing when the accident happened. Tom realised he was wearing the same.

John Stone, someone who’d been in the year below him brushed straight past him. He ought to have touched him, but Tom’s arm just floated straight through John’s.

“So we are like ghosts,” said Tom.

“Sort of,” said Marcus.

“And they really can’t see us?”

“Well, he didn’t did he?”

It was amazing. This was the day after the accident at the college where Tom used to go. As he walked about the rows of tables, he realised that everyone was a bit subdued. He heard some snatches of conversation.

“Yes, they’re saying it wasn’t his fault, but the car just went straight over the bridge,” he heard one student say. It was a boy, again a year younger than him, and somebody he didn’t really know very well.

Tom noticed that some of the girls had red eyes. “They’ve been crying about me,” he whispered to Marcus. He suddenly thought of Amanda. What would she be thinking? He must try to get to her.

“Not yet!” said Marcus. He looked serious. Then he grinned again. “Look,” he said. “We can do stuff.”  He knocked a chair over and tipped a jug of water all over the table.

“Oh for God’s sake,” said one of the girls whose jeans got soaked. She glared at the boy sitting opposite. Another student picked up the chair. She didn’t seem to find anything unusual in it.

Marcus went on the rampage. He shook pepper and salt on to some of the food. He upset ketchup bottles. He knocked spare knives and forks on to the floor. No one saw him, but there were plenty of complaints about the food.

“Worse than normal today,” said one.

“I’m going to go out tomorrow,” said another “even if it is more expensive. Can’t stand this pig swill any longer.”

Tom just stood and watched. It was clear, though, that Marcus knew exactly what he was doing. No one ever saw him. Tom didn’t think he’d ever dare do anything like that.

“Ain’t you gonna have a go?” called Marcus.

“I don’t know…,” said Tom.

“Goo orn, it’s easy,” said Marcus, picking up a few paper napkins and letting them float down to the floor.

Tom tentatively picked up a pepper pot and sprinkled pepper over a girl’s hamburger while she wasn’t looking.

“Aagh! This is gross,” she said, as she took a bite. “Too much pepper.”

Tom couldn’t help smiling to himself. This was a bit of a lark.

Another girl had dropped her fork on the floor in all the confusion. As she went to pick it up, Tom made it slide across the floor.

“Damn!” said the girl.

He then blew at the back of her neck and was pleased to see her shiver. 

“Does it seem a bit draughty in here to you?” she asked another student sitting next to her.

But all of this was nothing to what Marcus was now doing. He moved people’s bags so that others suddenly tripped over them. He mixed the spoons up with the forks and the teaspoons in the cutlery containers and he played his mouth organ loudly in people’s ears. They would then bat the air as if shooing away a fly.

“Can they actually hear you?” Tom asked.

“They can hear summat,” said Marcus, “only they ain’t sure what. It’s great, ain’t it, polterspooking?” 

Tom began to relax and felt as if he was getting into the swing of this new craft. It was all a matter of doing things which might just about happen just as no one was looking in your direction. It certainly gave you something to titter about when they looked up all puzzled.

Marcus was just about to tip a cup of water over a book a boy was reading when he suddenly stopped. A shadow passed across his face.           

“That’s enough,” shouted an aggressive female voice.

Two community police officers had appeared in the entrance to the canteen. Marcus disappeared. The officers made their way over to where Tom was standing.  They didn’t look too pleased.

But then it became clear that the students couldn’t see them. Tom realised they were Rema and Zeboth.

He suddenly felt very tired.

The canteen noises disappeared and he was sitting on his bed. He was in a more normal room now. It could have been a bedroom anywhere. The two guardians were still dressed as community police officers but they looked less serious now.

Rema started manipulating his arms and legs. “Good, good,” she said. The uniform dissolved and she became an angel again, this time with wings. “Your body is holding up well.” She nodded to Zeboth.

“You may sleep now,” said the other guardian. 

The room faded and Tom fell into a deep sleep.  

Find your copy here 

Spooking

   

Chapter One  

 

Tom woke up. He was near a window. There was light shining on his face. He was in bed. But it wasn’t his bed. It was soft. It was possibly the most comfortable bed he had ever been in. Those weren’t his pyjamas he was wearing. In fact he wasn’t even wearing pyjamas at all. It felt like he was wearing some sort of loose tunic.

He tried to sit up. He couldn’t. His body just wouldn’t move.    

What was he doing here?  Where was it, in fact, and how did he get there? 

Well, he was definitely in a room. One that looked a bit like a church. An old one with pillars and arches. But it didn’t smell musty like those places normally did. 

He could hear something. Birds singing outside? No, maybe human voices. They weren’t talking though. They were singing. And there was something else. Something which seemed completely out of place. What was it?

A mouth organ.  He could hear a mouth organ. Somebody was playing a mouth organ. It was a sort of slow jig. As soon as he’d realised that, though, it stopped.  

Then he remembered his argument with Amanda. Well, it hadn’t really been an argument, but it had left him feeling battered. He was going to lose her. He was definitely going to lose her. He just knew it.

But that still didn’t explain how he’d got here, wherever here was.

Another part of his mind arrived. He remembered the accident. It was almost a relief. That was it then. He must be in hospital. Except that he couldn’t quite remember where there was a hospital near Southampton in a building like this one.

He tried to move his arms and his legs. He couldn’t. Nothing seemed to respond to his brain. He didn’t hurt anywhere either. Surely there should be some cuts and bruises even if nothing was broken?

Perhaps, then, the accident had been a long time ago. Or perhaps he was paralysed. This must be one of those places where they care for people like that. Maybe he’d even been in a coma for a very long time.

Had she been to see him? How old was he now?

“Oh, you’m awake then?” he heard a voice say. It was a young voice. Somebody else his age.   

The mouth organ sounded again. Just a couple of notes this time. 

Tom tried to turn, but he couldn’t.

“Don’t worry,” said the voice. “You won’t be able to move for a bit yet. You’ve gotta learn to do it again. S’alright.”

Tom went to speak. He tried to make out where the voice was coming from. He wanted to ask the speaker who he was.

“Hang on,” said the voice. “I’ll come round where you can see me.”

A shadow moved from the right side of his bed.

“There, that’s better, you can see me now,” said a young man about Tom’s age. Tom guessed he was probably another patient. He had a pointed face and long brown hair. He had a small pointed nose. He was very pale and rather thin. He looked almost weightless. “Marcus is the name, by the way,” he said and grinned. He played a little trill on his mouth organ. “Hey, it’s good to have another’un like me. Most of the people here are old and grumpy. The young’uns don’t hang around very long if they come here at all. It’ll be good to have some company me own age. I’ve heard you’ve got an awkward problem. Probably in for a longish stint, then.”

Tom wanted to reply. He tried to ask Marcus where exactly they were. He just couldn’t get his mouth to open. It also seemed as if he had forgotten how to breathe.

“Hey, mister, I saw a muscle move in your cheek then,” said Marcus. “You’ll be ready in about half an hour.” He played a fast trill.

Ready? thought Tom. Ready for what?

“You’ll be able to get up, and get cracking on whatever it is they want you to do,” said Marcus. “The sooner you get started, the sooner you’ll be out of here.”

Tom supposed that could be a good thing. Get out of this place, wherever it is, and get back to normal life. Go and find Amanda. Perhaps she might reconsider going to London … or could he go to Wales?

“Naw!” said Marcus, frowning. “I bet they’ll process you ever so quickly, despite what they said. They always do. Then I’ll be on me own again. Nobody ever hangs around here long. Especially the young‘uns. Except me, of course, I ain’t going nowhere.” He played two desolate sounding notes. 

“You again,” said another voice. It sounded like a woman. Someone a little bit younger than Tom’s mother. “What are you doing here? Haven’t you got things to be getting on with?”

“Just being friendly!” said Marcus. “Don’t you let her bully you,” he added, looking at Tom. He then darted between the pillars opposite Tom’s bed and disappeared completely.

Must be a door there, or something, thought Tom.

“So, how’s it going Tom?” said the woman. She was now standing right next to him, just where Marcus had been. It was really odd, because she hadn’t moved there. She was just there.

It must be the drugs they’ve given me, thought Tom. 

The woman smiled at him. She had long blond hair and very slender arms. Odd thing that she was wearing though. Very old-fashioned. Some sort of long white dress. But it did go with the building, he supposed.

“Still can’t talk?” said the woman. “Don’t worry. It won’t be long.”  She pulled the duvet off the bed. It was very white and very light. She started to examine his chest with her hands. He felt a very slight pressure and at the same time some life seemed to come back into his legs.

“You felt that, didn’t you?” she said and smiled again. She was very pale. Why was she so pale? He could understand about Marcus, who was another patient. But why were the nurses pale as well?

She fumbled in a canvas bag that Tom had not noticed before. She took out a long metal instrument that looked like an oversized fork. She prodded it into his knee. That hurt. One by one, more odd-shaped metal tools came out of the bag. She used them to test different parts of his body.  

“Yes?” she asked, as she stroked his arm with what looked like a rigid feather.    

Tom went to nod his head. He couldn’t make it move. The hope he’d had a few seconds ago faded. He must be paralysed after all. Then his head did move. He felt as if he was moving a huge boulder just with his head. But at least it moved.

“Excellent,” said the woman. “We’ll have you up and walking about later today.”

Walking about? So, he wasn’t paralysed. Perhaps he’d had some sort of operation.

“Good. It’s all good,” she continued. “I’m Rema, by the way. I’m your body coach. I’m going to get Zeboth along. He’ll be responsible for your daily care. Hopefully you won’t be here for very long. You youngsters usually aren’t.”

What about Marcus? thought Tom. There didn’t seem to be all that much wrong with him, except that he was very pale, but not really any paler than Rema.

“Except of course, our dear Marcus,” she added, frowning as she pulled the duvet back over him. 

She was doing it now, as well, just like Marcus had earlier. Reading his mind, apparently.

“Well then,” said a male voice. Another young male voice. It was coming form where Rema had just been standing.

How had that happened?

“I’m Zeboth,” said the owner of the voice. He was tall and slim, just like Rema. He had the same fine blond hair which was long and flowing and came down to his shoulders. He was wearing a pair of loose trousers and a floaty tunic, which looked as if they were made out of silk  He was pale, too, just like Rema and Marcus. “It is my job to help you with everything apart form the maintenance of your body. That is Rema’s department.”

Now it sounded like prison.

“Don’t worry, though,”  Zeboth continued. “You’ll be able to talk later today and then you can ask me questions … some of which I’ll be able to answer, hopefully. Now, are you comfortable enough?” 

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