The Physics Of The Dead - A Supernatural Mystery Novel Read Free Page B

fascinated. He’d been here only two years, but had still seen a few Flyers; it wasn’t the first time he and Hart had had a similar conversation. Yet the disappointment was still just as strong. Why though? whined a voice in Bowler's head.The voice was wheedling, petulant, and Bowler didn't care. He'd earned the right to think that way.Nothing changed here. They both knew it, and that’s what made survival so hard.
    Hart knew that too, and Bowler had seen that brief glimmer in his eyes when he first looked up. Bowler knew what it would mean for Hart if it WAS another Checkin , why he would be even more excited with that prospect than he would be with just the possibility of a new arrival. It would mean more protection. Bowler smirked, in spite of himself; he knew the way his companion thought. And Bowler wasn’t daft, or at least not as daft as Hart thought he was. What Hart didn't know was the other reason Bowler needed a Checkin so badly. How it might mean that he was more than just protection for someone. The Flyer crackled with a warm energy as they watched.
    The object in the sky was cloud shaped, but slightly transparent, ethereal. It was here one second, gone the next, then back again, flickering like an old film. It was about 9 feet long by four feet across; a glowing, white, airborne piece of elongated popcorn, lit from within. Bowler tracked it's progress across the sky, still holding onto a glimmer of hope despite Hart's words and his own knowledge ( it wouldn’t really make any difference in the long run ... but please let Hart be wrong on this ) a glimmer that died the closer The Flyer got to the edge of The Foyer. Even though his belief was tiny, Bowler’s heart sank as The Flyer began to shift trajectory, and start the all-too-familiar inexorable journey upwards. As it ascended, it made the low thrumming sound that Bowler knew painfully well, the one that sounded like someone despairing. It was a sound that perfectly matched the feeling in the pit of his stomach.
    They stood silently for a few minutes, watching it until it ascended completely from view. Bowler continued tracking it in the sky long after Hart had stopped watching; the older man had begun an inspection of his fingernails, despite there being no dirt under them and no chance of there ever being any. Hart caught himself, and noted again that some things were harder to unlearn than others.
    Hart waited until Bowler's gaze also returned downwards, and watched his companion for a few moments. When Bowler didn’t move, Hart sighed, hesitated, and stepped only slightly closer to him. He knew the way Bowler was feeling all too well. It was only two years ago that had he finally stopped feeling that way himself—stopping once he'd gotten what he wanted in the form of Bowler’s arrival—and the memory of that time was still strong enough to move him to a kind of pity. He was not an unkind man. He was just one who had never been given much reason, when he was alive, to learn how to discuss anything that was deeply rooted.
    Close proximity to another person made him nervous even now, even here. Without realising it, he had come a long way from his old life now that he was even this open, his old life spent in a world where men kept their distance and everything but their opinions inside. It was seeing Bowler this way—the image bringing forth a memory of pain—that now drove him to move without thinking as he saw his own remembered anguish at work in another. He wasn't even consciously aware that he was going to try and comfort his friend.
    He gently put an arm around the young man's shoulders, barely touching him, and guided Bowler slowly forwards. Bowler allowed him to do so.
    “Come on,” Hart muttered gently, but awkwardly. “Let's go and see what the Polish gentleman is watching tonight.
    ***
    There's a sudden snapping sound, and everything rushes in; memories, knowledge, identity, and the strongest memory of all is one of great pain. Not