From Dark Places (4 page)

Welcome, please leave mud and worries outside.

The plaque had lost its power when they died.

She dared not step inside, it looked too dangerous. The remaining internal walls barely stood and the floorboards were badly damaged. Even if it had been safe, she couldn’t have entered. Once was enough that morning.

A dog barked and she jumped.

“I won’t be a minute, Max,” she called, looking over to him shifting about anxiously in the passenger seat of the car. He whined, sensing something was wrong. Wondering where his master was.

The thought of his master pulled her attention back into the ruin. Even though she felt the bile rising, even though she was terrified she might see something, she had to look.

Did he get out in time? Was he out there in the woods, running for help? Was he watching her now from the edge of the trees?

Her eyes scanned the wreckage with desperation, the imagined voyeur making her shiver. Then the sole of a boot, toe pointing up at the sky came into view and she turned to vomit into the mud. She braced her hands against shaking knees until it was over, and then forced herself to look back at that boot.

“He didn’t get out,” she whispered to herself. “He’s dead.”

She plunged her hands into her pockets, felt the box of matches, rubbed her thumb along the striking edge. “You’ll never do that to any child ever again, you sick bastard,” she spat through her teeth, and turned, leaving her father in the house for the last time.

SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER HER

He watched as she woke in a field in heavy rain. After a few moments of lying there, confused, she sat up and looked down at the soaked flannel trousers clinging to the legs stretched in front of her.

He waited patiently as she tried to move the toes, then moved her hand to the top of her head to see if it was wet. She prepared to stand and he readied himself for the discovery.

“Oh my God!” she screamed, turning to look at the body lying on the ground, the one she had just left behind.

She stared at the steaming corpse; a middle-aged golfer with burns on his jacket and a twisted golf club in hand. Above the storm continued to rage. He knew what she would be thinking and felt sorry for her, despite his impatience. It couldn’t be easy to look down at the body you’d inhabited mere moments before, let alone one of the wrong gender and age bracket.

“Bad luck again, my dear,” he said and she spun around, chest heaving as if it still needed to work her lungs.

“Who are you?” she demanded and he sighed.

“I’m here to help.”

“What happened? Am… am I dead?”

He nodded, amazed at how much she forgot every time. “Yes, I’m afraid so. But technically you died two days ago. That,” he pointed at the dead golfer, “was just an interim arrangement.”

“Interim? What?”

“Let’s go for a walk,” he suggested. “We can find somewhere less morbid, and I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

She nodded uncertainly, tearing her eyes from the body and stepping towards him.

“What’s your name?”

“You can call me Nathaniel,” he replied. “And don’t worry about not remembering your name. It’s only a detail, and not an important one.”

He led her away from the golf course, into a country lane shaded with trees. The sound of the rainwater dripping from the canopy above them was soothing. She always calmed quickly once he removed her from the scene of the death.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes. That was a bit of a shock. I’m not really a middle-aged man, am I?”

He smiled. “No. It’s rather complicated, would you like me to explain?”

“Please.”

“Well, you’ve already guessed the most pertinent detail: the fact you’re dead.”

“I thought I’d be more upset about it.”

“Ah, well, the first time you were. You don’t feel upset because you’ve already come to terms with it. Don’t worry, this will all start coming back to you. There’s always a period of amnesia, it’s all right.”

“First time? How many times have I died?”

He counted on his fingers. “The golfer was number four, since the day before yesterday that is. Let me start at the beginning. Otherwise you’ll only get muddled, and getting muddled after the fourth death in two days is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

He paused when a car rounded the corner. She threw her hands in front of her face and screamed as the vehicle passed through them. He laughed, making her smile sheepishly.

“Not quite used to it,” she said.

He caught hold of her hand, he couldn’t help himself, and squeezed it tight. “Sorry,” he said hurriedly, letting it go. “I know you better than you know me.”

She shrugged. “It’s ok, it’s nice.” She caught hold of his again. “I’m glad I can feel you. It’s reassuring.”

He smiled back. “Then we shall stroll like a young couple on a Sunday afternoon, and I shall tell you a tale of a young soul freed ahead of its time.”

The first time he told her, it had been exciting. The second time, interesting. After the third time, tedious, and now by the fourth time, rehearsed—almost a story.

“All souls,” he began, in his best bard’s voice. “Agree to a contract each time they’re preparing to reincarnate.”

“A contract with whom?”

“The Universe.”

“That’s pretty big.”

He smiled at her. “It’s the easiest way to refer to it. And yes, it’s big. The contract details the life the soul will experience, and the length of the life.”

“Does the soul choose the life?”

“Yes.”

“This is starting to sound familiar.”

“Good! That’s good. Yes, the soul chooses the life. They choose whether they want to be rich or poor. Fit and healthy or disabled. Talented or mediocre. And other details sometimes. They choose the life they need to experience in order to evolve.”

She nodded. “Yes! This sounds right. Living lifetime after lifetime, learning each time in order to ascend. I know this!”

He grinned. “Good. The first two times I had to go into so much detail it took hours to get anywhere.”

She looked at him as they walked and he enjoyed her scrutiny. He knew he was handsome, of course he was. He could choose how he appeared, and he had chosen to look just the way she liked.

“So where do you come into this? Are you here to talk about my contract for the next life?”

“Contracts aren’t discussed here on Earth, they’re discussed elsewhere, before the soul gets here. This isn’t normal at all. You died too early you see.”

“Too early? You mean before the contracted period ended?”

“Exactly,” he replied, pleased at the speed of her comprehension now. “We’re in a very unusual situation. Your contract has been broken, and I’ve come to help you.”

“Broken? Am I in trouble?”

“No, it wasn’t your fault. This only happens once in a billion lifetimes. In fact, you’re in a privileged position. You still have years left on Earth, free to choose the life you lead after seeing it first. The vast majority of souls never have this opportunity. Oh they can choose in the abstract of course, but you,” he squeezed her hand, “you, my dear, have the chance to find a life here and now, live the rest of your contracted days in that person’s shoes.”

“And I chose an overweight, middle-aged golfer who plays during storms?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes… I was rather surprised by that one.”

“So I get to choose whoever I want to be for—how long?”

“Just over fifty years.”

“Whoever I want to be for fifty years, and there’s no catch?”

“Well, there’s no benefit. No benefit to your evolution that is. You can’t influence their actions; they have their own lives to lead. But you can experience and enjoy it as they do. I’d see this as… a holiday,” he suggested. “Yes, a holiday from the hard work of your development. In fifty years you can pick it back up again.”

The lane gradually turned into a larger road and they emerged at the crest of a hill. He led her to a gate set into the hedgerow, knowing the view from it well. A small town nestled in the bottom of a valley, with trails of smoke stretching up from a hundred chimneys to touch the base of the dark clouds above.

“Would you like to look there?” he asked. “Or shall we go to a city?”

She watched the chimney smoke. “You said that poor man was the fourth death. That seems a lot in two days. That can’t be normal.”

“You seem ready for the next part.” He faced her. “You’re cursed.”

“Cursed?!”

“Yes—well I think so. I can’t think of anything else it could be. We’re in unfamiliar territory now. I’m afraid, I can only formulate a theory. But yes, every person you’ve chosen died soon afterwards.”

Her eyes widened. “All of them?”

He gazed over the fields. “Sadly, yes. All in different ways. The first time I thought it was a shame, the second time I thought it was terrible bad luck. When it happened again and again, I grew suspicious. A curse is the only explanation I can offer. It probably killed you the first time, the thing that broke the contract.”

She was silent for some time, taking this in. “Is there a chance it will happen again, the next time?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But what other choice do you have? The contract clearly states you have to be living as a person when on Earth, not like me.”

“Not like you; what are you exactly? How do you fit into all this?”

“I help souls in difficulty.”

“So you’re my guardian angel?”

“That’s one thing you can call me, if it pleases you.”

“I like it. And I like that you’re here. I think I always wanted someone to watch over me.” Her eyes were large as they looked up to him. He wanted to melt into them. “You’ve had this conversation with me three times already?” At his nod she smiled. “You’re very patient.”

“Yes,” he smiled at her open innocence. “I’m certainly patient.”

They drifted for hours, wandering through the town, following people in the streets and some into their houses.

“Do any of them appeal to you?” he asked, as they stood in the centre of the high street.

She shrugged. “Not yet. I’m a bit nervous to be honest. I don’t want them to die.”

“But the contract,” he reminded her. “You have to choose.”

“Can I see this contract? Perhaps there’s a way around this.”

“A divine loophole?” he grinned. “I like it. I don’t have a copy, it’s between you and the Universe. But you can call it to you in this state, now you know about it. Just hold out your hands and will it to be there.”

She followed his instructions and the document appeared in her upturned hands; a contract written on sparkling paper, like crushed diamonds pressed into parchment.

“See here,” he said, pointing to a particular line of the elegant script. “Pursuant to clause 5 (b), section ii, the Soul has contracted to exist on Earth for the period of time stated in clause 2. Should unforeseen circumstances pre-empt termination of the designated lifetime, the Soul has the right to select another lifetime to experience, by proxy, the remainder of the allotted period.”

She blinked at it. “It has clauses like—like a legal document!”

“Well, technically this is a translation of what has been agreed,” he explained. “It’s been put into language you can understand, still being here on Earth. If you’d been living your chosen life as a Frenchwoman, it would be in French. If you had chosen to live in an Amazonian tribe, the information would be presented differently again.”

“So the Universe isn’t as full of red tape as this would suggest?”

“No. Here’s the part where it states you can’t remain here in your current form.”

She read it and then closed her fists, making the document disappear. “Well, I suppose I’d better make a choice, and hope for the best.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be watching over you.”

“Oh my God!”

This time she was staring at the body of a young woman, her neck broken by the fall from her horse. He stepped forward, readying himself for it to begin again.

For the fifth time he explained it all and, just as they had every time before, they wound up looking at the contract, this time in the middle of a field.

She sat down on the grass, hugging her knees in the way he recognised from her original lifetime. He sat next to her, silent for now, watching the despair seep in.

“If I’ve been cursed, isn’t there someone we can ask for help? Some kind of higher authority?”

He shook his head. “No. Well, none I know of anyway. And I think I would know.”

She sighed. “I understand I’ve probably discussed this with you several times already, I’m sorry about that. I was wondering though, how you came to be what you are now… a guardian I mean. Did you choose? I thought the contract said we had to be in corporeal form to be on Earth.”

He frowned at the grass. “Not exactly. I was chosen to stay here, to find souls like you,” he spoke slowly, selecting his words carefully. “To be with you, when you need me.”

“You sound like it’s only me you help. Like you were made for me.”

He resisted the urge to crush her to him. “You’re the only soul I’m looking after at the moment.”

She watched the police cars speeding down the lane towards the scene of her most recent death. She turned from it, weeping tears that drifted away once they had fallen from her face, like wisps of cloud.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” he said, pulling her up. “I can see this is too hard for you.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, watching the woman get out of the car in the crowded car park. “I wanted to be the mother over there, but I couldn’t bear it if she died too. I can’t take the risk. I’d never forgive myself if I took her from those lovely boys.”

He admired her selflessness. “Then all you have to do is move towards her, and want to be her.”

She moved closer to the woman, tall and slender in a designer suit. The woman slipped on a beautiful coat, pulling out her long blonde hair trapped under the collar.

“But what if she dies too?”

“It won’t be your fault,” he said. “What other choice do you have?”