📖 The Ghost of Emily - Chapter 15

In which Reynard the trickster attempts to charm our hero.

Pitch blackness.

There was nothing for Jake to fix his eyes on that would give him any clues about where he was. He groped slowly and carefully, feeling his way around the outer perimeter of the dark, silent room in which he was trapped. The walls were cold.

His hand felt the smooth orb of a door handle. He twisted it, hearing a sharp click, and pulled the door towards him. From the space behind it, a blinding corona of blue light smashed into his skull, and he instinctively shielded his eyes with the crease of his elbow. But his eyes adjusted to the new light quickly, and he lowered his arm. It was the figure of a man, glowing blue, his back turned.

Jake recognised this man - not who he was, but that he had seen him before; in a dream.

I’m dreaming! With the thought came a sudden lucidity, and the room around Jake slowly lit up, revealing a cavernous space cut into rock with a metallic floor. He looked down at his feet, and shimmering in the glow of the blue man, he could see water rushing below the porous metal plate on which he stood. Jake did not know this room, but he could see it as clearly and as consistently as if it were real.

“Good, Jake," came a man’s voice.

Jake looked up at the blue man, and saw him slowly raise his arms, then turn towards Jake. When his face came into view, it was glowing brighter than the rest of his body, and Jake felt compelled to shield his eyes again.

“No. Look, Jake," said the voice, gently.

Jake lowered his arm, and widened his eyes, letting the blinding light pierce into his awareness fully. The light dimmed, and Jake could clearly see the man’s face. It was his own face. The blue man was Jake.

“Now you are beginning to see." The blue Jake reached forward and offered him something.

A heavy object dropped into Jake’s palm, then the blue hands withdrew, pulling the glowing Jake farther and farther back. His arms seemed to keep retreating, impossibly; retreating beyond the position of the rest of his body. He seemed to draw back entirely into some perceptual vortex until he was nothing more than a flickering blue candlelight, then a spark, then nothing. The room was unlit again, but Jake’s eyes could still see.

He looked down at the weighty object in his hand. It was a golden disc. He thought he could make out some kind of animal impressed on its surface. He leaned forward to see it more clearly, when suddenly the disc uncoiled and sprung into motion, revealing a head, two dark eyes, and a gaping mouth full of fangs. The snake leapt into the air, its mouth reaching to consume Jake’s face.

As contact was made, Jake awoke, shooting upright in his bed and feeling his face with his hands to confirm that the dream had ended.

His heart was racing. For a moment he was utterly confused. In the dream he had known he was dreaming. He had felt certainty of that. But in being awake now, it was taking him a few moments to accept that he was back in reality. The transition had been so sudden, so violent, that it left him feeling less lucid awake than he had inside the construct of his subconscious.

Jake looked around. He was in an old council office with a wooden desk shoved into the corner next to a filing cabinet. Piles of old paper and folders were spread around the edges of the room. He was seated on a tattered single mattress with a woollen blanket.

The dim blue light of the early morning sun was beginning to fill the room, and Jake knew it was time to get up. Somehow, he needed to try to escape Reynard and his awful militia, find Gus who would now be hiding in the woods, and resume his search for Maisie.

At the thought of Maisie, Jake’s stomach twisted in knots, and he had to take a deep breath to quell the pain in his gut. As the cool morning air spiralled into his chest however, another face entered his mind. It was the face of Olivia.

He had seen her last night, before he fell asleep, but only from afar. She had been returning from a long day’s hunt, pushing through the begging ‘leeches’ into the town hall. Jake had only caught a tiny glimpse from his window. He knew from what Reynard and Marcus Hamlin had said, and from his own vivid memory as a child, that she was his long lost friend.

Olivia’s face had turned upward, glancing towards the windows above the main hall level, and Jake thought - though he wasn’t sure - that their eyes had met.

Her thick, curly red hair was tied to one side in a plait. She was well covered by padded and multi-pocketed hunting clothes, and her shoulders were laden with weaponry and ammunition. But even with all of that paraphernalia shielding her from curious eyes, Jake could still get a clear sense of her body by the way she moved.

Her hips swayed in a slight figure-eight motion with each step. Her shoulders held their position firmly, squarely aimed forward at her destination. A petite face was held high by her pointy, dimpled chin, which jutted out slightly ahead, proudly; defiantly. Jake saw it as a bayonet, fixed as a defence ahead of her most precious and tender targets; her huge, feline, green eyes.

This image of her face and motion remained vivid as Jake rose from the mattress and stretched out. He felt a tension in his body and a wave of distraction in his mind that he hadn’t felt since the last time he awoke next to Emily. As he rose, his legs ached from the run he had endured the day before, and the pain emptied his mind of distraction.

Maisie! Gus! Nimmy! His heart was instantly pounding and his stomach churning in fear and doubt. He began to slide his pants onto his legs, when he heard a door down the hall slam open, and a woman scream. He ran out of his room still buttoning his trousers; shirtless, shoeless.

He could hear a man shouting, and a woman whimpering. When he reached the doorway and stepped in, he saw one of Reynard’s men raising his hand high above a naked, cowering woman who was sprawled on the floor in front of him. She was clutching her face, which was already red. Jake quickly glanced at her abdomen, and saw no bump, and no attempt to defend it.

She’s not pregnant yet. This man is here to rape her!

As the man’s hand closed into a fist and reached the apogee of its swing, Jake took two steady strides forward, caught the man’s hand in mid-air and pulled it towards him. The man was forced to spin on his heels and face his assailant. Jake stood almost a foot taller than him, and gripped his fist with a crushing squeeze. The man seemed bewildered, as he looked up at Jake’s face and reached for his wrist with his other hand, trying to wrench himself free.

“What the FUCK?!” the man shouted, and with a jerk he finally freed his hand and thrust it back in a punch.

Jake reacted instantly, folding his body over to create a space in front of his stomach into which the punch flew, falling short of contact. While forward-bent, Jake placed his hand on the back of the man’s neck and effortlessly pushed him down. The man slipped and his face smashed onto the wooden floor. He recoiled quickly, shaking his head to try and focus his vision again, then he threw himself upward at Jake trying to tackle him to the ground.

“Stop!” Jake shouted as he hopped backward, avoiding the tackle as the man slipped and sprawled on the floor again.

The man roared with frustration, then tried the same manoeuvre once more, only lower, this time reaching for Jake’s ankles. Jake saw it coming, and jumped a foot into the air, and landed with his full weight on the man’s wrists, pinning him to the ground with a crunch. The man screamed in pain and Jake immediately hopped off him, trying to minimise the damage.

The man was raging now, and he swung his feet around trying to trip Jake over. Jake stepped back and dodged them.

“STOP!” Jake shouted again, trying to appeal to the man’s sense of self-preservation. He had already lost the fight; he was no match for Jake’s reflexes or size. Jake couldn’t understand why he persisted so.

The legs swung at him again. Jake evaded, but before he could shout, he felt a ring of cold steel press between his shoulder blades, and heard a click.

“Arrête,” said Reynard, slowly, calmly.

Jake raised his hands and relaxed the muscles in his back. The man on the floor roared then leapt to his feet, about to run at Jake. There was another click, as a second revolver emerged from behind Jake and pointed at the man, who instantly stopped his attack and dropped to the floor.

“Arrête, Benny," said Reynard, who stood like a cowboy with a revolver in each hand, holding two much-bigger men frozen before him.

“Up, up!” He gestured with the pistol at Benny, who obliged and moved out into the hallway. As Jake was ushered out, Reynard pointed his right-hand gun limply at the whimpering woman, who was clutching a bed sheet to her body.

“Are you okay?” Reynard asked, his voice sounded oddly paternal. The woman’s eyes locked on the muzzle of his gun and she began to tremble, panicked. Reynard looked at his gun, surprised, then suddenly lowered it. “Oh, sorry darling.” He stepped into the room, turning his back to Jake, and squatted down next to the woman. He placed the gun on the floor next to his foot and gently took the woman’s face in his hand, turning it delicately to examine her wound.

Jake’s eyes locked on the gun, and he considered leaping for it. But Reynard still held his left-hand gun tightly. Jake felt eyes on him, and he quickly returned his attention to the man he had just fought. The man was shaking with rage.

“They hurt you,” Reynard said softly, and the woman nodded. “This is no good. You are precious to us. Justice will be done.” Reynard collected his sidearm, stood and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut and sliding an exterior bolt into place.

Jake heard her sobbing through the thin timber door, as Reynard led him and Benny towards the stairs.

A small crowd had formed and began following them down into the main hall, and out the front door into the yard. Marcus was among them, and Jake noted he was carrying himself as a very convincing geriatric; his feet shuffling along, his back arched, his head downturned in fear, deference or senility. The deception was so well executed that Jake almost hadn’t recognised him.

When they reached the centre of the yard, the crowd had grown to all of the militiamen, and most of the leeches, standing around in robes and blankets. Many of them had dragged themselves out of bed just to bear witness to what was unfolding. Without instruction, the men formed a circle around Jake, Reynard and Benny.

Reynard began to orbit the two men, keeping one pistol trained on them, and spinning the other one insouciantly on his index finger. “Tsk, tsk, tsk... Jaaaake... you disappoint me.”

Jake stood tall, only slightly turning his head to keep his eyes trained on Reynard, who held him hostage, surrounded by his cronies and sycophants.

“You haven’t been here even one day, and already you’ve broken the law!”

Jake said nothing. Benny took the pause in Reynard’s speech to cry out his defence. “He attacked me, Reynard! Out of nowhere, he pounced me and nearly broke my fucking wrist!”

“Shut up!” snapped Reynard. “What were YOU doing in there, Benny? Looking to get laid, were you? Wanting to break in the new filly?”

Benny’s head sank, ashamed, as he tried to respond, “I... I needed...”

“Yes, yes!” Reynard cut him off. “You need to empty your blue balls into some juicy pussy before they shrivelled and fell off! Yes, I’ve heard it before.” With the sudden spring of a wild dog, Reynard leapt forward at Benny, effortlessly rotating one shoulder around to keep a gun pressed to Jake, and poked the other muzzle up into the soft flesh behind Benny’s jaw bone. Benny froze in terror, his face winced, and he began to sob as Reynard screamed into his ear. “I’m in fucking charge here, you maggot! I thought you were ready to be a militiaman! You’re still just a fucking leech like the rest of these pathetic little assholes. That bitch is not assigned, which means she is MINE! Understand!?”

“Yes, Reynard!” Benny whimpered.

“Yes, who?!”

Benny sniffed, his face compressing further as the gun pushed harder into his chin and he realised his error. “Yes, General Trudeau!” he shouted, pleadingly.

Jake, who was surprised at his own equanimity amidst this ruckus, raised an eyebrow at the title Reynard had obviously appointed himself. He was beginning to realise just how mad Reynard truly was.

Reynard stood up again, removing the gun from Benny’s jaw, which allowed the dishonourably discharged militiaman to collapse onto all fours on the grass, panting in relief. “Good!” spat Reynard, derisively. “Then we understand each other perfectly, you fucking LEECH! Go back to your own kind, you’re out of the militia!” he shouted, kicking Benny’s buttocks and shoving him forward into the encircling crowd. Many of them began to laugh as Benny crawled between the legs ahead of him and disappeared.

Reynard turned once again to Jake, and looked at him, darkly; venomously. “What did I tell you about violence, Jake?”

“I was defending that woman."

“You started the fight, no?”

Jake didn’t answer.

Reynard’s body coiled downward slightly, and Jake had the feeling again that he may pounce at any moment. He realised that this was Reynard’s tell. It was all for show. Jake remained still.

“Answer me, Thorne!”

“No. I did not," Jake said, forcefully, staring unwaveringly into Reynard’s dark eyes.

Reynard pressed one pistol into Jake’s abdomen, and raised the other up to his temple. “I told you, Jake!” He was shouting again, his words drawn out and theatrical.

Jake knew he was putting on an act for his men. Jake had shown everyone who held the power among them, and Reynard was taking it back, in the only way he could.

“I told you the punishment!” he went on, pulling back the hammer of one revolver with a sharp snapping sound.

Jake didn’t flinch. He maintained eye contact with Reynard, imagining a series of movements to try and disarm him. He knew this could be it, the end, and he thought of his children. He would not allow this without a fight. His body began to tense in preparation, when he heard a voice suddenly cut through the scene of imminent death.

“What the hell is going on here?!” the woman with a strange accent shouted as the crowd began to part to let her through. With the sound of Olivia’s voice, Reynard dropped his eye contact with Jake.

Jake could see that Reynard was relieved. He smiled, knowing that if he got through this next minute without a bullet tearing his brain open, Reynard would be his to control soon enough.

Olivia reached the inner circle and went straight to Reynard, who was half a head shorter than her. She had her rifle slung over her shoulder, dormant, but intentionally present. “Reynard, stop this now!”

“No, law is law!”

“What you need is more food.”

“W-what?!” Reynard snapped, clearly angered by her insolence.

The control of this whole situation was now comfortably in Olivia’s hands. “I heard he’s a hunter!”

“Oh,” Reynard muttered, “well, yes.”

“We need him, Reynard!”

“But...”

“But nothing! You said it yourself, Benny was going where he shouldn’t. Someone punched Isabel in the face! Was it this man?” Her finger wagged at Jake.

“Well, no but...”

“So he was defending your property. He stopped Benny from doing worse harm. And besides that, he’s a hunter and most everyone around here is hungry.”

Reynard looked at her for a long moment, silently. Jake sensed he was considering how to rebuild his dominance in the view of the leeches and militiamen around him.

“Is this true, Thorne?”

Jake saw the opportunity, and he began to lower his body under the press of Reynard’s guns. If I let him control me right now, I will live, he thought, so he pretended to cower. “Yes!” Jake shouted, his tone implying fear. “He punched her. I stopped him before he could do it again! You told me no violence. I was trying to stop the violence!”

Reynard stared blankly into Jake’s eyes, searching.

Jake squinted slightly, showing Reynard that his fear was false, but that it was a gift to him. He wasn’t sure if Reynard understood the subtlety of this exchange as he did, and Olivia appeared to, but it had the desired result. Reynard lowered the guns from Jake’s body.

“Well, then,” Reynard said, projecting his voice to the whole crowd. “Thank you, Jake. Justice is done!” He holstered his pistols. “You see, leeches?” he shouted, looking around at the skinny men. “Initiative! This is how you find your place in the militia!” He turned to Olivia, and lowered his voice. “Alright, Livy. We need hunters. You show him how it works around here, then.”

Jake noted the tenderness in Reynard’s voice. He sensed genuine affection towards Olivia.

“Alright, mon amor,” she replied. Jake’s head jerked towards her, as he sensed the falseness of her returned affection.

Reynard turned to the crowd. “Get out of here! Go on!” he shouted, as if breaking up a flock of scavenging seagulls. The crowd disbursed, with some moans of disappointment.

Reynard looked to Jake. “Thorne,” he whispered, “I’m watching you, Thorne. You hear me?” He walked away, pulling a pistol out of its holster and spinning it on his finger as he moved inside.

Olivia finally turned to Jake and looked him up and down, sternly. Jake was trying not to smile, but he felt the distracting sensation again in her presence, and the corners of his mouth betrayed his pleasure as her eyes roamed over his hairy, muscular chest. Their eyes met again, and as Jake gave up the fight against his grin, her face lit up with a smile too, and she began to laugh.

For a long time, they both stood, looking into each other’s eyes, laughing. Jake wanted to grab her and embrace her. Familiar faces were few and far between out here. Friendly ones even more uncommon. Beautiful, friendly, familiar faces - rare as snow.

“Jake Thorne," she said, with a broad smile that pushed her rosy cheeks upwards, slight creases forming around her eyes.

“Olivia Hamlin."

“Oh,” she looked surprised, “you remember me?”

“Yes... I would never forget you." He grinned back at her. “Buuut... your father helped me a little with the surname, which I forgot.”

Her smile shifted from amused elation to a knowing acknowledgement of the trust he had revealed with his honesty. “So you’ve spoken to my father.”

“Yes, very briefly.”

“Mmm... good. Well, there’s more to be said I’m sure, but we must choose our time and place wisely," she said, gravely.

Jake got the sense that the Olivia he was speaking to now, alone on the grass in the morning sunlight, was not the Olivia that all these other men knew. He could see that her facade was as consistent as her father’s.

“I’m to take you out hunting. Reynard wants me to keep an eye on you, until he knows you won’t run off. So we’ll hunt together today. Gather your things, I’ll get your rifle and meet you back here, okay?”

Jake nodded and stood silently watching Olivia’s hips gently sway as she walked towards the steps of the hall. He felt the dull euphoria creep into his mind again, and he shook his head abruptly to halt it. An image of Maisie being carried away on a glowing shoulder popped into his mind, followed by one of Gus fleeing militiamen. His heart started racing once more.

He looked around, considering which way he could run to get to them, but the perimeter of the square lawn was guarded by at least six of Reynard’s armed militiamen. Making haste in the only direction he could, he moved back inside.

As Jake stepped back into his room, he noticed a figure in his periphery and he sharply turned his head. It was Marcus, standing silently with his finger pressed to his lips. Jake nodded, unstartled, and pulled the door shut behind him.

Marcus was standing tall again, his act of decrepitude dropped. He was only slightly shorter than Jake, and Jake guessed he might have been his equal or superior in height when he was a young man. For an instant Jake held his eyes on Marcus’s own and noticed there was something unusual about them. They were the brightest eyes he had ever seen, and in the morning daylight he noticed what a vivid blue they truly were.

“So, you met my Olivia!” Marcus chuckled, speaking under his breath.

“Yes, met her again. She’s...” Jake trailed off, catching himself feeling too familiar with this old man, about to say something that may not be appropriate.

Marcus simply smiled, in full understanding. “Yes, she is.”

Jake heard the doors of the hall slam through the window, and footsteps and voices emerged from the building onto the lawn. Jake stepped towards the window to try and see, but his view was blocked by the awning below.

“It’s Reynard and his eight best men. They’re off to search for more weapons in the town.”

“How do you-?”

“I can hear them. I have very acute hearing.”

Acute hearing, AND acute eyesight, Jake thought. Who are you, Marcus Hamlin?

“I’m a scientist, Jake. And I’m the only person around here who has some idea of what is really going on in the world.”

“What is going on in the world?”

Marcus walked across the room and knelt down on the wooden floorboards, placing his hands on his thighs. “You want to know what the ghosts are, right?” Marcus asked, his thick foreign accent carrying an air of confidence that Jake was not accustomed to.

“My wife...” Jake whispered.

Marcus looked up at him, his face taut with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Jake.”

“She’s not real, is she." It was barely a question. Jake was already certain.

“No, Jake. She’s gone. What you’ve seen is just an image of your wife.”

“Marcus... they... I think they have my daughter. And my son is out there too...”

“I’m so sorry to hear about your daughter, Jake. But listen... don’t worry about your son. He’s safe.”

“What?!” Jake’s face lit up, in joyous shock. “Where?”

“I’m not sure, but Olivia knows. When you’re out in the woods, when you’re clear of listening ears and Reynard’s men, she’ll tell you.”

Jake began to pace, his body excited as his blood surged and he dressed himself. “Marcus, I need to find my daughter. If the ghost took her, do you know where they would be going?”

“I do," Marcus replied, his tone betraying grim finality.

Jake stopped cold and looked at him, terrified. They looked at each for a long time, silently. “I need to know,"

“About three days walk from here is a place called Canberra. I helped your mother find it once when you were a boy. The whole city is run by the machines. There are no people left there. When people agree to go with the ghost, that’s where they take them.”

Jake began pacing again, scooping up his things. “Which way is it, Marcus? I’ve got to get Gus and get moving. I’ve already lost a day and a half! I’ve got to catch up to my daughter.”

Marcus was shaking his head as Jake spoke. “Jake... listen. It’s three days walk for you and me. For a ghost... they’ll be arriving there soon, if not already. They are not human, you understand that, right?”

“No...”

“Jake, she’s gone. I’m sorry.”

Jake was still again. His face sagged, releasing his first tears for Maisie.

Marcus stood and reached out for Jake. As Jake’s face met the shoulder of the old man, his composure finally gave. He sobbed while Marcus held him firmly.

When his tears had run out, he lifted his puffy, red face again and looked painfully into Marcus’s sharp blue eyes. “What will they do to her?”

Marcus pursed his lips, then shook his head again. “I don’t know, Jake, but she’s not coming back.”

Jake’s gaze melted through Marcus, and fell into some distant recess of the room, blurred behind the veil of tears. His despair was interrupted by a knock on the door. Marcus retreated into the corner again, and Jake quickly pulled himself together, checked Marcus was obscured, then opened the door slowly. It was Olivia.

She noticed his red face, and her expression changed to sympathy. She placed her small hand on his shoulder. Her hand was warm, and somehow the heat of her touch spilled though him and made him stand up tall again. He knew that she knew everything.

“Is my son alright?” Jake couldn’t delay asking.

“He’s wonderful.” She smiled. “Jake... is my father here?”

Jake nodded and invited her in, closing the door behind her.

“Dad, I’m going to take Jake now. Did the parts work?"

“They did, but I need you get me three more ten kilo-ohm resistors please. One failed just as I was finishing the device,” he whispered, evidently frustrated.

“Device?” Jake enquired.

Before Marcus could answer, they heard voices of a small group of men coming up the stairs into the hallway.

“I’ll tell you later," whispered Olivia as she stepped out of the room.

Marcus simply nodded at Jake, and held his position in the corner to avoid being seen by Reynard’s militiamen. Jake gathered the last of his hunting and travel items and followed Olivia out to the yard.