Brotherhood of Shades

“There are still many on both sides who have faith in the Vision, sister,” D’Scover said, “despite the long wait.”

“Hmm, so it seems,” she smiled. “You and I will never agree.”

“What do you have for me?” he said, changing the subject. “It sounded urgent.”

“This boy.” She gestured at the bed on the other side of the glass. “I think you might be interested in him.”

“He is still alive, sister; we do have rules.”

“Do not mock me, Toby, I know all the rules. This boy is different.”

“How long does he have?” D’Scover peered through the glass at the small heap under the bedclothes.

“He will not last the night; his heart is failing fast.” Her face fell into a frown for the first time. “He was found in the street, no family, no one to grieve for him, a lost waif.”

“This sounds very familiar.” He stared through the glass. “Are you sure that you are not just being sentimental?”

“I am possibly the least sentimental sister you will ever meet and you know that full well,” she snapped.

“So why is this one so different? Why does he need my special attention? You could easily have dealt with him without my help.”

“He is different,” she replied slowly, “because he saw me.”

“What did you just say?” D’Scover turned quickly to face her.

“He woke briefly a couple of times, and he could see me.”

“Hmm.” D’Scover peered through the glass once more. “How long has it been since anyone saw you?”

“Such an impertinent question! You know my experience: no one has seen me without my express desire for over two hundred years,” she replied.

“This is indeed interesting,” D’Scover agreed, “and with the rise in disturbances, it could all become even more interesting.”

“I thought you should know,” Sister Goodman said. “As I said, he does not have much time left.”

“Thank you, sister; if fate is running true to course, this boy could prove to be what we have been waiting for.”

Chapter Five – Death Day

“Am I dead?”

“Yes.”

“Simple as that? No softening the blow?”

“You are no longer a child; do you wish to still be treated as one?”

“I just thought . . .You an angel then?”

“I have been asked that so many times. No, I am not an angel and, before you ask, I am no devil either.”

“So who are you – or what are you?”

“I am D’Scover. I am here to help you.”

“Sounds dead creepy to me. Why do I need help?”

“Because you are dead and yet you are still here.”

“I had noticed, thought it was a bit odd, but I kinda thought I was dreaming and that none of this is real.”

“Real is a phrase with many definitions.”

“Bloody hell, what sort of answer is that?”

D’Scover walked down the corridor of the hospice, grateful to no longer hold full substance. In this fresh state of death, the world hung between the living and the dead. The living could not see him here because they did not believe it existed – and therefore to them it did not exist.

The boy looked through the window into the room where his body lay. His skin sunk into his half-starved frame making him look more skeleton than boy. His body weighed very little and, though he was fourteen, he looked much younger. Two male nurses lifted his corpse carefully into a black bag, doing it slowly up and moving his wavy fair hair out of the way so it wouldn’t catch in the zip. They placed it on to the lower level of a trolley and covered the whole thing with a clean sheet. Loaded up like leftover dinner, the boy thought, to be wheeled through the corridors without causing any upset. No one would even know the body lay there as the apparently empty trolley rolled through the wards to the mortuary. He watched with curiosity for a moment before realising his companion had walked on.

“Hey, wait up!” the boy called after him.

D’Scover turned and waved his hand. The walls rippled in a wave from his sides all the way to the boy and, before the boy could refocus, he was standing right in front of D’Scover.

“Wow, now that’s cool. How d’you do that?” the boy asked, looking around.

“Practice,” D’Scover replied brusquely. “Do you have a name?”

“I suppose so; I mean, I must have one.” He frowned. “It’s just . . . just I can’t quite catch hold of it. It’s like it’s just out of reach; d’you know what I mean?”

“No one is here to remember your name, so it is not remembered. Do you have a name you wish to use instead?”

“I can’t think of any.” The boy wrinkled his forehead as he tried to recall one. “I’m not really bothered though. I mean, I don’t seem to care.”

“Adam – will that do?” D’Scover suggested.

“OK – Adam, I like it – Adam will do.”

“It is what the nurses put on your admission papers and death certificate; they had to put a name and they chose to name you after where you were found, Adam Street. It is a good enough name and it carried you to death; it seems fitting that it should carry you past it,” D’Scover said.

He turned back to the corridor and began to walk once more. Adam followed at a brisk pace, half running alongside his tall and long-legged companion.

“So what happens now?” the boy continued to babble. “Do I have to do something to get to? Do I have unresolved business – that’s what they have in the scary movies – is that why I’m still around? Or is that just all rubbish? If it is, where will I live?”

“You will not live.” D’Scover strode on. “You are dead; try to hold that thought.”

“No, I know I’m dead, well, I must be. I mean, I saw my body back there so I must be dead, unless someone really looks like me and this is all a set-up. Is it a set-up? No, can’t be, why would anyone bother to set me up?” He continued to flood D’Scover with questions. “I’m just a bit confused about why I’m here, why I’m not just dead and gone. Hold on, is this a dream? Am I imagining all this?” Adam stopped and looked around the corridor. “I mean, this doesn’t even look quite real, does it?”

He was right, it didn’t look quite real: the colours were drained and everything had an almost two-dimensional quality as though they were watching it all on a TV screen.