Under a Watchful Eye(41)

‘Versions? That’s not a version,’ Ewan said with a returning spike of the usual sarcasm. ‘That is what they are.’

The only thing preventing Seb from punching his old friend was the weakening effect of his own fear. He gathered himself. Stay angry. ‘Bullshit! Where are they? Where do they live? That thing with the sack on its head . . .’

Ewan was almost crying when he asked, ‘What? What did you just say?’

‘What?’

‘About a bloody sack?’

‘The head, it was covered. In my dream and then . . .’

Ewan stared at the grass, his eyes protruding. ‘Len,’ he said to himself. ‘Thin Len. You saw him.’

‘What? What are you saying? Who is Len?’

‘Oh Christ. Thin Len.’ Ewan clawed his face. ‘They’re not living. But they exist.’

‘You better start making sense or I’ll put you down for good, you prick!’

‘A child-killer. He was a murderer. He was hanged. I thought he was a myth, a story.’ But he’s not, or so Ewan’s hapless, drawn face seemed to communicate.

Seb could hear himself wheezing, but he managed to pant out, ‘What?’ in a tearful voice.

‘Let go!’ Ewan roared. They struggled again, briefly wrestling and twisting around each other upon weak legs, until Ewan lost his balance and pulled Seb to the ground.

Seb regained his hold on Ewan’s greasy jacket.

‘Piss off!’ Ewan batted at his hands and kicked at him while remaining on the ground as if he were too tired to get back up again. ‘You think you can understand? They are the parallel. Hinderers.’

Seb let go of Ewan and raised himself to his feet. He looked about the common in bewilderment. ‘What? What does that mean?’

As if confronting some terrible truth, Ewan dropped his face inside his hands. Perhaps he suffered a revelation that had been much postponed. ‘Hinderers in the passage. That’s what they’re called. I was told things. I glimpsed something, but only when . . . when I went further.’

‘What are you saying?’

Ewan appeared too frightened to continue. He began to shake, his face creased as if he were about to cry.

‘Hinderers in the passage? What bloody passage?’

A palsy took over Ewan’s hands.

‘They’re dead?’ Seb asked, his own voice a ghost of itself.

Ewan nodded. ‘They reside over there. Oh, Christ.’

‘Where? Where?’

‘Discarnate. Trapped . . .’ Ewan’s attention drifted from Seb and he mumbled to himself in what sounded like a weird stream of consciousness, gibberish but alarming gibberish. ‘The subnormal of the mist. People of the mist. They can’t ascend. There’s no physical body. Don’t you get it?’ He looked at Seb and raised his voice close to a shout, ‘And for him, Thin Len, this was never about choice!’

‘What are you saying? How can I see it? How?’

‘Hades. They drag vestiges of the body veil through the halfway place. They repeat . . . they rage blind for decades, centuries . . .’

Ewan struggled to get to his feet, then began glancing about himself in a baffled, childlike fashion that made Seb feel much worse.

Ewan paced in a small circle, his long hands clutched to his scruffy cheeks. ‘To stumble and crawl in the blackout, in the mist . . . to be denied ascent.’

He muttered other things that Seb didn’t catch, but he did make out, ‘To be in terror, always. The confusion . . .’

Seb grabbed Ewan’s shoulder. ‘What happened to the bloody light! The unlimited freedom? The power, the strength, the vitality and the marvels of the marvellous, Ewan? Where is it now? I didn’t see a bloody trace of it back there!’

Ewan grinned at Seb, but only with his mouth because his watery eyes were still stricken with the horror of some terrible epiphany that had settled inside his ugly skull. ‘The paradise belt. They’ll never know it. They don’t conform to earth or paradise conditions, you idiot.’

‘Idiot? You fuck!’

‘They’re in the greylands, fool. They’re shades.’

Holding his face, Ewan resumed walking, but in tighter circles. ‘Jesus, Jesus . . . The gliding of the double.’ He closed his eyes and swallowed.

‘The gliding of the frickin’ what?’

‘Oh God, that I should have seen it . . .’ Ewan began to actually cry. His chest heaved out sobs. This wasn’t an act to gain sympathy and he again reminded Seb of a small boy. ‘I should have not seen that. I never wanted to. Never, no. But it’s me! Me, it’s crossed over for me. They sent it. The light is dimming for me. But I won’t . . . I won’t . . .’ Ewan had lost his train of thought, along with his wits.

‘This thing, the hinderer, you said it can be directed?’

Ewan nodded once, quickly. ‘Looks like it.’

‘It came after you, not me?’

‘I have to get away from here.’

‘Please do, but first—’

‘Money. I need money.’

‘Now, there’s a surprise.’

‘You have enough. What do you need it for?’

‘What?’

Ewan’s eyes narrowed and he displayed his discoloured teeth. ‘All those savings!’ He spat at Seb’s feet. ‘Bloody ISA. High interest bonds. From writing that shit! You won’t miss a couple of grand. Five, six, seven, that’ll do it.’