Lazar (8 page)

There was a wind blowing in from the sea – Jan could
taste the salt and the smell of rotting fish. The wind also carried seagulls,
and the sound of them. Their guttural squealing scratched the silence like thin
white fingernails being scraped across the storm-grey sky.

Then, above the seagulls’ screeching, Jan heard a sudden,
heavy slam. She turned. The door had closed behind her. Once again, she did not
feel surprise. She just stood and took in all the detail of old St James’
Chapel – except that it was not old. It looked as if it were newly built.
Every wall was true, every line was straight, every curve was carved precisely.
It was immaculate.

What was
that?

Jan span round. Someone was calling out to her. Or had it
been a seagull’s cry? Had her ears deceived her? No – there it was again.
It was coming from somewhere along the track that lead down to the sea.

She found herself outside the graveyard, staring hard toward
the coast. There was no one to be seen. The lane was empty. On one side lay the
marshes. On the other, the land rose slightly to form modest hills that gave
some shape to the horizon. But the hills were bare. There was nowhere for
anyone to hide. Yet, still, Jan could make out her name amongst the seagulls’
cries.

She moved forward down the road. There was a small hill to
her right, little bigger than a mound, upon which stood a windmill of sun-bleached
wood and weathered canvas. She continued onward, unconcerned that it had not
been there the last time she had looked. But she was not looking – not in
the active sense. She was simply the passive observer of a succession of
surreal images.

It’s a
dream. I’m only dreaming.

But it was a dream from which Jan did not wish to be
awakened, not just yet. It was a dream so intriguing that she wanted, more than
anything, to see it through to the end. She went on watching.

The field beyond the windmill, which had previously been
empty, now contained a monastery. It took shape before her inner eye and looked
exactly as she had known … as she had known it
would
. How had she known? Had she been there before? She had a
sudden sense of
déjà vu
– she
knew what she would see next.

Yes! There, on the horizon, stood the city walls of Wickwich.

There it is
again.

It was not a seagull’s cry. It was someone screaming – screaming
out to
her
.

But who?

But where?

There – just there, along the road, hurtling toward
her.

She could not see it, but she could feel it.

It was a ball of naked energy.

And that energy was fear.

Wake up!
Wake up! I
must
wake up.

The impact was enormous. Like a tidal wave of terror it
crashed over her, scouring out her emotions with its violent undertow of dread.
She struggled desperately to hold on to those thoughts that were her own; to
save herself from drowning in the maelstrom.

I
must
wake up!
I
must wake up!

But she could not. She had no control over anything – her
senses, thoughts or feelings. She could not even shut her eyes. She tried, but
there are no eyes to shut inside a dream. She could only stand and stare. And
feel. She felt another force upon the road. This time it was wickedness.

It was hatred.

It was evil.

St James’ church. A sudden thought came into her head. If she
could reach St James’ church…

She turned and fled. Yes. This time
she
was
turning. This time she
was
fleeing down the lane. She saw the
marshland rushing past her. She saw the chapel just ahead. She also felt the
hatred in pursuit.

If she could make it to the chapel
they would never harm her there.

Who? Who
wouldn’t harm her?

Jan’s own thoughts broke through to
the surface, but only for an instant. They were sucked back down immediately by
the fearful undercurrent. Blind panic overtook her. Sheer terror drove her on. Pure
wickedness was hard upon her heels.

At last she reached the graveyard. She
was running up the path. She could feel the hatred snatching at her back. She
crashed into the chapel door. The evil pinned her to it. Her hand reached out.
The handle turned.

The door stood fast.

It would not move.

Open, damn you, open.

It opened
last time
.

Last time?

The door swung back.

The sight inside made her cry out
in revulsion.

She shut her eyes. She opened them.
She shut and opened them again
. She could
shut and open her own eyes.
She looked around. She was sitting up in bed.

There, I
knew
it. I
was
dreaming. She laughed in silence
at herself. How could she have been so stupid to be frightened by a dream? Oh
no, she thought. Please don’t tell me I screamed out in my sleep.

That would be just
too
embarrassing.

“Where’s Hal?”

Uncle Bill looked up from his newspaper.

“Ah! Good morning, Jan. I’m glad you felt able to join us for
breakfast.” He smiled, then looked concerned. His intended joke had missed its
mark.

“Are you all right? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost. Sorry,
no joke intended.”

“Yes, I’m OK, thanks,” Jan returned her uncle’s smile. His
concern appeared to be genuine, in contrast to his sceptical reception the
night before when she and Hal had told his parents about Margaret. “I didn’t
sleep very well last night, that’s all. Where’s Hal?”

“Where do you think? In his bedroom playing with his
computer, of course. He’s only just gone up. Now,” Uncle Bill put down his
paper and picked up a jug of orange juice, “drink this. It might help to wake
you up.” He handed Jan a glass.

Just then Hal’s voice and footsteps thundered down the
stairs.

“Jan! Jan!” He burst into the dining room. “Jan – come
and look at this.”

“Look at what?”

“Something on your computer, I suppose,” said Uncle Bill.

“Yes! Yes…” Hal looked narrowly at his father. “How did you
know? It wasn’t you, was it? You haven’t been messing about with my CAD
software have you?”

Hal’s father laughed out loud. “Good heavens, I gave up
hacking years ago. What’s happened to your software, then?”

“It’s my 3D model of St James’ church – it’s been
coloured in. The walls are covered in pictures.”

There was a tremendous clash and clatter as Jan dropped her
glass of orange juice into her cereal bowl. Hal stared at her.

“Are you alright?”

“You didn’t sleep too well last night, did you, Jan?”
explained her uncle. “Go on, go upstairs and see whatever it is that’s got your
cousin so excited. I’ll clear up the mess.”

Jan did not move immediately. Hal frowned. She seemed reluctant
to come with him.

“What’s up?” he asked, then paused. “Hey, you’re not worried
about the virus, are you?”

“What virus is that?” enquired Hal’s father.

“Take no notice,” snapped Jan, more brusquely than she
intended, as she suddenly stood up. “It’s just some silly nonsense Hal’s got
into his head about a computer virus.”

“Into both our heads, you mean,” quipped Hal.

“That’s
not
funny.”
Jan stormed past her cousin and marched determinedly upstairs. Hal exchanged a
glance with his father, which included raised eyebrows and shrugged shoulders,
then followed Jan up to his bedroom. When he got there he stopped dead in his
tracks. The sight of Jan in front of his computer, staring at the screen,
brought back the image of Margaret that he had been trying hard to erase from
his memory. He frowned again – this time with suspicion.

“It
was
you, wasn’t
it – yesterday? You’ve been winding me up all along. That’s why you’re
tired. You’ve been up all night…” Hal broke off. He had been walking across the
room as he had been speaking, and had just caught sight of his cousin’s face. It
was as white as a winding sheet.

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” he said,
instinctively.

“I have – and so have you.” Jan turned and looked
straight into her cousin’s eyes. “The ghost in the machine. I had a nightmare,
last night,” she continued, pointing at the screen. “It started in the chapel
and it looked
exactly
like this. You
thought something amazing had happened to your computer. Well, it has – but
it’s happened to me as well.”

“Yes.” Hal looked thoughtful. “Yes – that would fit in
with my theory…”

“Your
theory?” Jan
was almost shouting. “Is that all my nightmare was to you – just another
bit of evidence for your theory?

“Look, Hal,” Jan continued to hold her stare, “I was really
frightened last night, I mean
really
frightened. It was as though something, some
one
,
was trying to take me over.”

“Exactly,” Hal leapt in again. “That’s what I’m saying. It’s
obviously a symptom of the ‘Margaret’ virus that whoever, or whatever, catches
it is taken over and experiences images from the past. In your case the images
disappeared when you woke up, but in the case of my computer it’s all still
there on the hard drive.” He took hold of the back of the chair upon which Jan
was sitting, indicating that he wanted to sit there. “Come on, let’s see what
else is on there – what else you dreamt about.”

“It was
not
a
dream, it was a nightmare, a
really
frightening
nightmare,” Jan protested. “Are you actually listening to what I’m saying? Your
computer may have recorded it, but
I
experienced it. I
felt
it.” There was
something in the tone of Jan’s voice that made Hal let go of the back of the
chair.

“But doesn’t that make all this even more amazing?” Hal
looked genuinely confused. “I mean, we all have nightmares, but yours has
actually been recorded. We can play it back and look at in detail again and
again.”

“But I
don’t
want
my nightmare to have been
recorded,” Jan cried out in exasperation. “I
don’t
want
to be able to
relive it over and over again. In fact, unlike my brain your computer’s
memories can be erased. I’m stuck with mine – they
haven’t
‘disappeared’.”

“OK, OK – I’ve got you. But if you’re still scared
you’d better look away. There’s no way I’m going to erase this stuff.” Hal
picked up the virtual reality helmet. “Move over.”

This time Jan did not react to Hal’s insensitivity. She
simply got up from the chair and walked over to the window as disdainfully as
she could. She looked out at the scenery and began trying to identify the
landmarks from her dream, but too many trees were in the way. In spite of
herself she began listening to Hal’s commentary on what he was experiencing in
his virtual reality.

“Wow! Look at those windows … so that’s what the door looked
like … hey, the new church isn’t there … look at those cottages, more like
hovels.”

Jan heard a click and turned to see her cousin switching on
the speakers attached to his computer. The room filled with the sound of
seagulls. As if summoned by the guttural birdcall she wandered over, staring at
the image on the screen. It was divided by a horizontal line across the centre.
Below it, all was marshland. Above it, all was sky.

 
Hal’s commentary
continued.

“Hey, a windmill – and a monastery …. Wow! Will you
look at that – it’s Wickwich. It really is old Wickwich – that’s
amazing! Hey … What the hell?” Hal leapt up from his chair and pulled the
helmet off his head.

Jan stepped back in surprise, then something on the screen
grabbed her attention. It was a skeleton, rising from out of the ground. And
then another, and another … dozens of them. She laughed out loud. Very loud. It
was as if the fear from last night’s nightmare had been exorcised.