📖 The Ghost of Emily - Chapter 17

In which childhood friends make new acquaintance as huntress and prisoner.

Jake and Olivia walked through the town, passing the occasional leech, saying nothing to each other. The expression on Olivia’s face remained unusually staunch, serious, and cold.

When they reached the edge of the town and found themselves surrounded by forest, Olivia stopped walking, handed Jake his rifle, smiled at him, then opened her canteen of water, gulped from it, and offered it to him. He accepted, and as he tilted the bottle back and drank, he kept his eyes on Olivia’s, which were locked on his in kind. Her demeanour had changed again. She looked somehow lighter.

“Can we speak now?” asked Jake.

“Yes, but let’s keep our voices low until we are well into the woods. Reynard has ears almost everywhere here.”

He nodded in agreement, as they continued to walk deeper into the cool shaded forest.

There was a thin veil of mist across the forest floor, pierced by beams of morning sunlight. The sight of Olivia’s bright red hair bobbing side to side in a thick, unkempt plait behind her, filled him with a disorienting feeling of nostalgia, of warmth, of empty-headed bliss.

But the children weren’t long out of his mind.

“Olivia, stop," he commanded, gently.

She obliged, turning to him.

“Where is my son?” he asked, his face suddenly desperate.

She smiled reassuringly. “Where do you think I am taking you, Jake?”

His relief showed on his face, his thick beard curling into the suggestion of a smile.

“Come on,” she gestured with her hand, “I’ll take you to him. He’s fine by the way, he should be well fed, and he’s in a safe place. Your dog, Nimrod, is there too. It was pure luck that he found my hiding place. Actually... you might recognise it when we get there.”

“What is going on back there, Olivia? In the town I mean. What are they planning, how did Reynard get to be... like he is? What are you doing with...” his voice trailed off, realising the impertinence of his question as it was tumbling from his lips.

Her face turned grim, as she marched on, leading the way. “What I am doing, Jake, is what is necessary to survive. It’s a performance; you saw that. It’s a disgusting, awful act, that I am so ashamed of... the things I’ve done, the things I’ve let Reynard do...” Her eyes turned slightly glossy, and she sniffed once, collecting herself. “My father was in the town looking for batteries, for his scrambling device. And some of Reynard’s men caught him. They took him prisoner, and when I found him, I realised that they were going to kill him if I didn’t act. You see... they all think he’s senile, just some useless old man who is nothing but dead weight.”

“Yes, I noticed his performance. Why?”

“Why?” she chuckled, softly, “Jake... my father is a very important man. He is the only person in this country, perhaps the only person still alive in the world, who knows the whole truth about the machines. He knows how they got here. And... he knows how to stop one long enough to study it. At least, he thinks he does. That’s what his device is for.”

“I see.” Jake’s eyes were wide with astonishment at her claims.

“If Reynard knew that, my father would be in much greater danger. He is a very intelligent and learned man, Jake. He knows a lot of things, and to let people like Reynard and his men know this, would make him a slave to their reckless cause. He knew that too, in the moment they captured him, and so, he chose to begin his performance. When I reached the town hall, and was faced with Reynard, the disgusting little ape that he is...”

Jake knew an insult when he heard one, but he wasn’t sure he knew what an ape was.

“... I could see that being his was the only way to stop myself from becoming just another one of those poor pathetic women he has locked upstairs. His cows.”

Jake’s brow creased. He knew what a cow was, and he didn’t like the idea of human women being analogised as such. “What does he want with them?”

“With the women? He wants their eggs. He wants to breed his own colony, be the king and ruler over a new generation of babies. Power, that’s all he wants. Most of the men back there are cowards. He’s not used to people standing up to him like you did today. All those men are too cowardly to fight him, too cowardly to go it alone, and even too cowardly to hand themselves over to the ghosts.”

“Is it cowardly to want to keep your life?”

“It’s not. But…” she stopped walking and looked him in the eyes, “you saw those men... did they seem alive to you?”

He pressed his lips together and shook his head in concession.

“They’ve already given up,” she said, taking up pace again, “they’re hanging onto their bodies out of habit, but their hearts are dead.”

Jake wasn’t convinced that it was too late for these men. Afraid, they were most certainly. But perhaps all they needed was someone to look up to. A real leader. A hero, even. “Why not just kill Reynard and leave?”

“I’ve never killed a man, Jake. Have you?”

“No.”

“I want to... don’t get me wrong. The things I’ve seen him do to the other men. To the women. To me...” her face grew pale and her gaze distant. Jake waited as they walked.

“I probably would do it, if I knew I’d make it out alive, and that my father would too. But Reynard always keeps his militiamen close. They’re his bodyguards. They have this stupid plan to find the ghost that walks around here and blow it to high hell. They’ve got explosives. I’ve tried to warn them that they’ll get themselves killed before they put a scratch on that damned ghost, but they won’t believe me. And even more stupidly, they think that if they can blow up this one machine, they can use its parts to make better weapons, and take back the world," she laughed, girlishly, wickedly. “They’re imbeciles, Jake. They wouldn’t have a clue what to do with those parts. My father would though.”

“Why doesn’t he go and help them, then? Or you?”

“My father’s too old and weak. For him to go, the jig would be up. And me... I’m Reynard’s precious possession. He wouldn’t let me go even if I asked.”

“So who will deploy this device?” he asked, his forehead creased in confusion.

She stopped walking again, and looked at him, blushing a little. “Well, Jake... Dad and I were talking, last night, and...”

Jakes face smoothed as understanding came upon him. “You were going to ask me to do it for you.”

She grinned, sheepishly. “Would you?”

“You’re taking me to my son right now. My daughter is long gone... probably dead already... what reason could I possibly have to go back with you to that awful place today?”

She lowered her head slightly, disappointed, but sympathetic. “I’m sorry about your daughter Jake. But...” her head whipped up again, “don’t you want some answers? Don’t you want them to stop coming for us? Don’t you want to find out what they really are, and see if we can use them for our own ends?”

“How can we possibly do that?”

“Father is aware of a transmission that is coming to and from the ghost as it walks. His device can disable that transmission, and potentially render the ghost inert. At least it can, theoretically.”

The look on Jake’s face betrayed his total ignorance of modern technology.

“It’s... a signal... that goes up into the sky. The ghost is being controlled from something up there,” she pointed skyward, “called a satellite. My father has built an interference device that will block that signal, and give us a chance to study the machine without destroying it.”

Jake thought deeply, for a long moment. “Alright," he finally said. “I’ll do it.”

“Great! Thank you, Jake!” she leapt forward and threw her arms around him, hugging him closely. He felt the warmth of her neck pressing to the side of his. The firm mounds of her breasts underneath her hunting jacket. The tautness of her thighs pressed to his as she stood on her tiptoes to reach her arms over his broad shoulders. Euphoria fluttered through his body, and left him feeling uncomfortably groggy. He pushed her gently away, and she looked at him quizzically. Feeling exposed, Jake started walking again, and she moved to take the lead. He followed her deeper into the brightening woods.

“We need to think of a way to get Reynard to trust you to come, when they launch the attack that is.”

“I know how," said Jake, assuredly.

“How?”

“I have a cache of weapons within a few hours walk from here. I’ll offer it to him. He’ll need me to come along to uncover them. My condition will be that I join the attack.”

“Good.”

“Besides, he knows about my wife. He knows that the ghosts have hurt me. That they’ve taken something from me.” He didn’t go on, but Olivia’s inquisitive expression urged him to. “My wife... she gave herself over a few years ago. She’s in that same ghost. Or in the... satellite. Or maybe a different ghost... I don’t even know how many there are. I thought I was the only one who had a ghost following me, but everyone else around here seems to know about them too.”

“There’s lots of them. All over the country. My father believes they are all over the world. In this region, father’s satellite tracking application has identified two distinct ghost units that come and go. Have you seen what they do? With their bodies, I mean.”

“Not exactly. I shot mine, and saw something I can’t explain.”

“Right... well, father tells me that they can take the shape and image of anyone who has... crossed over. So the same ghost that has appeared to you as your wife, has appeared to others in the town. And she’s probably asked you to join her, right? But never been violent?”

“Yes, that’s right. I don’t understand it. I get the feeling that we would be no match. I shot her right in the face, and she was fine a second later. You say they can’t be blown up with bombs. So why don’t they just take us?”

“It’s their program.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“A long time ago, my father was involved in a project. They designed a machine and wrote its program... it would seem that part of that program lives in these ghosts too.”

“Wait... Marcus made the ghosts?!” Jake was appalled at the thought.

“No. Absolutely not. He made a thinking machine. He had nothing to do with the ghosts, but he believes that the machine he made... may be their... their mother. He deeply regrets what he created. He had no idea it might come to this. He has spent his whole life trying to undo it. Trying to fix it.”

“So what is this program?”

“He would have to explain it to you fully, but basically they are programmed to not harm humans.”

“So... Emily... Maisie... are still alive?” his face was lit up with hope.

She shook her head quickly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear. Father tells me that the machines don’t understand what it means to be human. So they think they are doing no harm. That’s why they won’t force us to join them. They try to convince us. They manipulate. But my father is sure that when someone goes with them, all that’s left is a shadow. A fake copy. If your wife has come to you in a ghost... I’m afraid she’s really dead, Jake.”

“But you don’t know that, right? They all could be alive. In Canberra... where they’re being taken... maybe they’re all being held captive.”

She nodded sullenly. “We don’t know for sure. No one has ever seen what happens to them. It is... possible, Jake. But I don’t want you to hope. Because all the evidence suggests that these ghosts are replacing them. I believe that they are all dead. I wish it weren’t so, but father and I have been trying to piece it all together my whole life... and logic suggests...” She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Externally, he acquiesced. But in his heart, he still hoped. He was not thinking of his wife. He was thinking of Maisie, imagining that at this very moment she was still alive, far away, and that - if it was her fate to die - he was powerless to save her.

“About your wife... about Emily. I’m so sorry," offered Olivia.

“I already knew that it’s not really her, in the ghost. I just don’t know what words to use to describe it... she feels so real when you see her...”

“I understand. It must be very hard to have someone come back, after they go over.”

“No one has come to you?”

“No, it’s just me and my Dad out here.”

“What about friends?” What about your mother...?”

“My mother died before the ghosts arrived. And... you were the first friend I ever made.”

He smiled at her, ambivalently.

“But most everyone else here has had someone visit them now and then,” she went on, “everyone I’ve spoken to about it has felt the same. Confused. Hurt. Tempted... you know?”

“Yes, I know. When Emily left us... it felt like I was broken. And when she first came back, I wanted so much to go with her... but I knew. I knew it wasn’t her. I don’t know how I knew. None of this makes sense.

“My mother told me about the old world. The machines that everyone used every day. The strange things people could do. And I’ve seen some of them. The little silver books covered in buttons that are left in people’s houses when they cross over. I know nothing of that world. All I know is this," he gestured broadly at the forest, then at his rifle. “And I know my children. And I know that I must keep them alive no matter what. And I...” he choked, “I’ve already failed.”

“What happened?”

“She ran off, in the night. Two nights ago. She took a little carving of an elephant with her. I told her about them, I told her what your father told me when we were kids. I guess she wanted to find it, or something. The elephant. Have you...” he couldn’t compose himself enough to finish the question.

“No, I haven’t. That one time, when I was a child. I barely even remember it. Father reckons he’s still out there somewhere, but who knows. That poor beast, all alone. What would you do?”

“If I were alone?”

“Yeah.”

Jake thought long and hard about it. “I would keep going. I would search. It’s a big world. I can’t even imagine how big. How can you ever be sure that you truly are alone?”

Olivia nodded. For a time, they walked quietly together, standing closer than before.

They came to a plateau in the wood. In a small leaf-littered valley below, Jake could see a huge white box, thinly veiled beneath a pile of tree branches, and a camouflage net cast over its roof. As they drew closer, he recognised the jutting machinery on its top through the tiny holes in the mesh, and, on impulse, he dropped his backpack and rifle to the soil and ran towards it.

As he drew close, he called out. “Gus!”

That one call was all it took for the door of the vehicle to suddenly burst open, a four-legged beast leaping from its steps and tearing across the soil towards Jake. As man and dog collided, Jake buckled under the power of Nimrod’s enthusiasm, and together they fell into a pile of mammalian flesh and fur on the crunching brown leaves, Jake laughing and Nimrod groaning and growling playfully. Olivia laughed out loud as she bent down and collected Jake’s belongings, occasionally looking over her shoulder and around her to make sure they were all alone.

“Papa!?” came a child’s voice. Gus appeared in the doorway of the Winnebago, a book still clutched in his hand, his mouth agape and eyes searching. When Jake emerged from beneath the writhing blanket of dog fur, their eyes met and Gus dropped the book, his face twisting upward into one gigantic crescent as he too leapt from the vehicle and ran towards his father.

Jake struggled up, throwing his canine friend aside, and bolted towards his son, his arms outstretched. They met, both laughing unashamedly, Jake scooping his boy up into the air and spinning him around twice before pulling him in close. They squeezed their chests and necks together, grasping each other’s hands frantically. Jake felt a burning, almost painful need to never be apart from Gus again.

Olivia spoke softly to them, not breaking her stride for an instant. “Come on guys, come back inside, we don’t want our voices to carry... just in case.”

Jake and Gus sat down together at the motorhome’s kitchenette table. Jake glanced around at its contents, and memories from his childhood came rushing back to him. Some objects were more evocative and familiar than others: the kettle; the cupboard handles; the pointy hot-wand on the counter; the green carpet.

He looked at his son. For an instant, Jake was transported back in time, watching Gus take his first steps across a grassy paddock, on a farm. Emily was there too, laughing, smiling. With the flash of Emily’s face, a stabbing pain struck Jake’s insides. Maisie was not in the picture. Maisie hadn’t existed yet.

He blinked hard bringing himself back to the present, finding the face of his beautiful boy looking up at him again. He pulled him in close for one more firm hug, then finally, as Nimrod climbed aboard and Olivia pulled the door shut, Jake spoke. “Gussy, it’s so good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too, Papa! Oh wow... I’m so happy. I love you, Papa.”

“I love you too, son. Tell me... what’s been happening? How did you get here?”

“I went to the tree line, after you were gone for so long... just like you told me, Papa. I got out of the house just in time too, some men came in, they found my things... it was like they knew we were there.”

Jake scanned back through his foggy memory of the night before last. His animal panic in running out of the house to try and find Maisie. His brief, too brief, too harsh words with Gus.

“I hid everything, Papa. All the weapons, the ammo, our blankets. They probably wouldn’t have found them; it was a really good hiding place... but... they did find my shirt - the one you had washed. I’m sorry, Papa, I forgot about it.”

Jake was silent in thought, processing what his son was telling him.

“Did you send them, Papa? Did I do the wrong thing leaving the house?

Jake’s chest tightened as he felt the full weight of his guilt consume him. Guilt for abandoning his son. It was only his son’s wits, good judgment, and attention to detail that had got him out alive.

“No, son. You did the exact right thing; you hear? I was the one who made a bad decision. I should’ve taken you with me to look for Maisie, and we should’ve gone back to the woods. The town is no place for us. We’re woodsmen.”

“Did you find her, Papa?” Gus pleaded.

Jake couldn’t bear the desperation in his eyes. He fell forward, weeping, his chest heaving as he fought to maintain composure. But the thought that Maisie was lost forever defeated him. “I’m... so... sorrrryyyyy!” he moaned into Gus’s chest.

Gus was silent at first. He had never seen his father lose control like this. He looked up at Olivia, her face frozen in sympathy. He wrapped his arms around his father, as if to embrace his brokenness, to somehow gather him back together.

“I lost her, Gussy... I’m so sorry... I failed... she’s... she’s gone my boy... and, and ... I-I don’t kn-know if we’ll get her... back!” his voice was distorted by the utter devastation pouring upward from his core.

Gus squeezed him hard, and slow, gentle tears rolled down his own cheeks. “It’s okay, Papa. It’s not your fault. You didn’t abandon us. Mama did.”

Jake was surprised to hear this. “No, Gussy…” he felt compelled to uphold the memory of the woman he had loved. “Your Mama was just afraid. She wanted what was best for us all. She just…” he raised his head, “she made a mistake.”

Gus looked at his father’s swollen, wet face. Jake had never allowed Gus to see the depth of the terror and uncertainty he felt, below his usual façade of unwavering strength.

Gus didn’t shy away from the sight. He smiled at Jake, and took his face into his tiny hands. “Papa, you always stuck by us. You only left me because you knew I’d be okay. You were just trying to save Maisie. But it’s not your fault. That thing... that machine... it took her, didn’t it?”

Jake could only nod.

“We’ve got to stop it, Papa. We have to stop it from doing this to anyone else. Can we stop it, Papa?”

Jake looked deeply into his son’s eyes, utterly uncertain.

Olivia spoke in his stead. “Yes, we can.”

“How?” Gus asked, holding his chest out and his back straight, like a soldier receiving orders.

“Gus, my father has a plan, and your papa’s going to help us. All you need to do is stay here. We’ll be back for you when it’s safe, and while you wait, we will find a way to stop them.” Her voice was assured, and both Gus and Jake yielded her their trust. “Jake,” she went on, “I’m sorry... I really hate to cut this short, but we need to go. The game is pretty scarce round here, these days. We’ve got half a day left to catch something. If we get back to town without any food, Reynard will probably have you executed.”

“WHAT!?” cried Gus. “Who’s Reynard!?” His arms clamped down around Jake protectively.

Olivia instantly regretted her words, and waved her hands around in some feeble attempt at comfort, or distraction. “No, no, sorry Gus... I was... exaggerating. Your father will be fine. Truly, don’t worry about it.”

Gus looked at her, suspiciously, but he released his grip on Jake, and nodded.

“You need to tell Reynard about the cache tonight - they’re planning the attack for the morning, they’re just waiting for confirmation from a scout. We’ve got to go, Jake.”

Jake stood, and forced a smile. He ruffled Gus’s hair gently, lovingly, then without a word, turned and started towards the door after Olivia.

“Papa, wait!” Gus stood and reached into his pocket, extracting the leather-bound notebook and handing it to him. “You forgot this, Papa. I kept it safe for you.”

Jake beamed with pride. “You keep it son. Next time I see you, I won’t be leaving again. Keep it safe for me, okay?”

Gus nodded, accepting the task with dignity. “Papa, there’s a picture in there. You’ve drawn it a lot... what is it?”

Jake’s smile changed shape. For a moment, his gaze moved beyond Gus’s face and into the realm of deep memory. “It’s a snowflake, Gus.”

“Snowflake...” he repeated, memorising the word.

“In some places, when it gets very cold, ice falls from the sky. You remember when we found ice on the grass in the high meadow on the coldest morning last winter?”

Gus nodded, his face awed at the preposterous idea of ice falling from the sky.

“Well, in some much colder places in the world, the ice doesn’t grow on the ground like that. It grows high in the sky, and then it falls. Each piece of snow is a tiny little snowflake, that looks like that. That’s a drawing of one that I held on my finger once. I wanted to never forget that day, so I drew it, and I’ve been drawing it ever since, hoping to see it again.”

“You mean it snowed... here?!”

“Farther south, and up in the high hills. Once, when I was very small, I was in that area with my mum, and it snowed - a lot. We spent hours just playing together in the snow. It’s the only time I’ve seen it. It was a...” he trailed off, his gaze unfocussed again, then his vision snapped back to the present. “It was a really happy day for me.”

“I’d like to see snow!” said Gus, deep in joyous imagination, and curious at the notion of his father playing.

Jake sniffed, a gentle laugh at the dearness of his son. “Me too, Gussy. Maybe one day.” Jake raised his hand to his son’s cheek, and gently stroked the boy’s smooth face with his thumb. Then he turned and carried on towards the heart of the forest.

Nimrod sat on the floor of the motorhome, looking after his master, whimpering softly.

As Jake drew away, Gus called out one last time. “Papa! Don’t worry,” he smiled, half-heartedly, “wherever Mama is... the real Mama... that’s where Maisie is. They’re together. She’s with Mama now. Don’t worry, okay?”

Jake mirrored Gus’s forced smile, nodded, and then disappeared over the crest of the hill and into the mass of trees.

Gus pulled the door shut and latched it, then stepped heavily back to his seat.

Nimrod looked up at him, questioningly. Gus looked back at the dog, he too feeling the need for answers. “Who is Reynard, Nimmy?” he asked the dog, rhetorically.

Nimrod cocked his head.

Gus’s shoulders tensed as he looked around the motorhome. The thought of staying put, in this little white box, made him queasy. He saw his rifle leaning against the counter. He stared at it for a very long time. Olivia’s words about Reynard echoed in his mind, nagging him.

He stood, snatched the rifle into his hands, and headed for the door.