Move (11 page)

‘Draw?' I make the offer.

‘Da. Bun joc.'

I must look puzzled, for he smiles, for the first time today.

‘Yes. Good game.' His hand reaches forth.

Everyone relaxes. There are pats on my back, applause all around the circle. The hand of the grandmaster is damp and limp.

‘Very good.' Rogo looks ruefully down at the board and gives a shake of his head. ‘Very good,' he repeats.

My head hurts so much I feel sick, but I'm proud too. It might not have been chess I was playing but it was still an achievement. That's how Tara must see it too, because she is smiling at me with genuine pleasure.

‘Well done, Liam, really, well done.'

Even the Monk is looking at me with a certain amount of pleasure, and, for a moment, I am glad that I did the school proud. But at the same time, I have a feeling it wasn't worth it. There are now several more black scars, wide ruptures, flowing along through the universes around me.

There were not many people in the café after school. Fortunately, in addition to the dance music being played in the
background
, there was a lot of noise and laughter from the table next to ours. Fortunate, because we were talking about stuff that would have sounded mad if anyone could have overheard us.

‘That was amazing, Liam. You drew with a grandmaster. Nice one, I wish I had that moving universes trick.’ Zed glanced at Tara. ‘You know about Liam’s ability, right?’

‘Yes.’ Tara nodded.

‘But listen.’ I shook my head, ‘I really shouldn’t have done it. Something’s going totally wrong. Where I should be able to see millions of universes there are just these black lines.’

‘Black lines?’ asked Tara, quizzically.

‘Yeah, like rips or something, huge gaps between the universes.’

For a while we said nothing; all at once, our table was silent, though the café itself was lively enough. Over by the door a sixth-year boy was waving around a ticket to the Trinity Ball, showing off that he’d been able to get one.

‘And I’m getting blackouts too. Yesterday afternoon, as I came home from school, I fell asleep on the bus and woke up an hour later sitting on the steps at the Garden of Remembrance.’

‘You don’t remember getting off the bus?’ asked Zed, more curious than worried.

‘No. I don’t remember anything, except maybe the smell of detergent. What do you think’s happening to me?’

‘I don’t know, but we could go see Master Halpin and get his help,’ Tara suggested.

‘Master Halpin?’

‘Tara has this friend,’ I explained, ‘Geoffrey Halpin, he’s a Buddhist. It was him who realised that a hungry ghost was after me. You know, that demon we looked for in the Long Room Library.’

‘Yeah, creepy day that.’

‘Come on then. We can talk on the way to Master Halpin’s.’ Tara started packing her bag.

‘What, you mean go right now?’ I was reluctant to go over to Kilmainham. My head hurt and I just wanted to hurry home for my dinner and bed.

‘I think we should. He ought to be told about the gaps and the memory loss. They sound serious.’

‘All right then. I’ll text home.’

Tara was right and it would be a relief to share my concerns with Geoffrey. Although I’d only met him once, I appreciated the way he had listened to me and believed me.

‘I’ll come too.’ Zed took out his phone. ‘You’re in serious trouble, dude, and you are going to need someone around with brains. No offence, Tara. I mean, someone else with brains. Our boy here is good at sports and messing but not so hot on logic.’

She smiled. ‘I know.’

The slagging didn’t bother me. In fact, it felt good to have the two of them at my side.

Everything about the bus journey to Kilmainham was as it should be. The weather, typically, was overcast. The people on the bus were exactly what you’d expect: office workers and shop workers, coming home from a full day, texting ahead. So, why did I feel something was wrong?

Because whenever I rested my eyes and felt for the universes around me, I could see that the voids had grown again, had become thicker. They were widening crevasses. Didn’t anyone care that a cancer was spreading through the metaverse? Of course not; only I could see it. I felt like standing up and
shouting
though, to alert them. Crazy I know, but I was tired and fraught. They just didn’t seem right, the routines of everyday life, when my world was falling apart, perhaps literally. In that
moment, I felt I understood what it must be like to be seriously ill while travelling through a city of people who took their health for granted.

Once at Master Halpin’s house, though, my sense of being at odds with the world completely changed. He, at least, seemed to share my sense of fear as he looked at me through a narrow space between door and frame, a safety chain carefully in place.

‘Liam, is that you?’

‘It is, of course.’

‘Tara.’

‘Hello, Master Halpin. This is Zed, Zimraan. He wants to help us too.’

‘Hello, Zimraan.’ Geoffrey closed the door a moment, to unlatch the chain, and then opened it wide. Even so, he hesitated, his body an obstacle to entering.

‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.

He met my eyes, staring hard at me, before eventually
standing
aside. ‘Come in, I’ll tell you.’

Once we were gathered around the table, mugs of green tea in front of us, a plate of biscuits in the middle, Geoffrey held up his hand and we looked at him expectantly.

‘Last night the hungry ghost came here, to my house, and tried to get in.’

‘So, it’s true? There really is a hungry ghost at large?’ Tara almost whispered the question.

‘Unfortunately yes. Our interpretation of Liam’s dream was correct.’

Tara gave a long sigh. ‘I knew that something was wrong, but
to be honest, I wasn’t sure about the ghost. I didn’t really believe it, until now. What did it look like?’

Geoffrey nodded towards me. ‘It looked exactly like Liam.’

They turned to look at me.

‘What happened?’ My voice was dry and I shivered,
remembering
the twin version of myself I’d seen in the library.

‘It was about four in the morning. When I heard a knock on the door, I went to see and it was Liam, sounding exactly the same as he does now. I very nearly let him in, but something in his
expression
stopped me. It was demonic, triumphant. Then it tried to destroy me. Just by looking at me, it was trying to suck the life out of me. It was like someone was holding a sharp narrow tube towards me, at the other end of which was a powerful vacuum. I could feel the chill and the fact it was pulling at me, trying to break me down so that I would be drawn into the darkness.’

If what he was telling us was frightening, even more
disturbing
was that an intelligent middle-aged man was talking about demons with such sincerity none of us doubted the story.

‘So, what did you do?’ asked Zed, in a hushed voice.

‘It needed to eat. A hungry ghost is a creature that is entirely appetite. It had no patience to stay, to try and wear me down. As for me, I was reminding myself that I had nothing to fear: all life is suffering. Had I died at that moment, I would have simply lost this particular body. I’ve lived as well as I could, more or less. I’ve no reason to fear death. It wasn’t easy, faced with those malignant eyes, but I kept myself calm and that, I think, was why it left. This ghost eats fear and other emotions. You have to defend yourself by avoiding such feelings.’

‘Jays’, not easy,’ exclaimed Zed.

‘No. Not even for me, who has had thirty years of practice.’

‘Where is it now, I wonder?’ I mused aloud.

‘I’m relieved that you are here, Liam.’ Geoffrey relaxed a little and gave us a smile. ‘I thought that it had eaten you up and was walking around in your body.’

‘Nope. This is me. The full shillin’, as me da’ would say.’

Everyone looked a little more cheerful.

‘All right, let’s do this scientifically.’ Zed got out his rough book. ‘When has this hungry ghost been around?’

‘The Valentine’s card was probably the first time.’ Tara became excited. ‘You remember Jocelyn said she’d seen you early in the morning? That must have been the ghost. Right?’

‘Right. February fourteenth, about eight am.’ Zed wrote it down carefully. ‘Next?’

‘That would be the time Kenny drew on my face. I didn’t see the ghost, but it must have been near, because somehow it fixed the universes so I couldn’t escape.’

‘That was when, exactly?’ He paused, pen held above the book.

‘Well, it was double English, so it must have been Thursday afternoon and it was right before Easter break.’

‘So it was. That’s March tenth, about two thirty pm. Next?’

‘A few weeks later, when we went to Trinity and I told you that I could move. For a moment there, up in the library, I saw it, like looking in a mirror.’

‘Right. Janey Mack, but that was scary. Not that I saw it, though.’

‘When was that?’ asked Tara.

‘Mid-April?’ I hazarded.

‘Yeah.’ Zed was writing. ‘It was the eighteenth, because we were going to look at games for my brother’s birthday present. Around four thirty pm.’ He looked up at me again. ‘And after that?’

‘Remember how an elephant ran into the school yard
yesterday
?’

‘It was deadly.’ Zed laughed.

‘Well, that was supposed to be the school performance day. Inextreme were going to play and we had shaved our heads. Except that instead the ghost attacked me, tried to humiliate me and I fought back. So we ended up in some bizarre, out-of-
the-way
universe.’

‘You fought back?’ interjected Geoffrey.

‘I did,’ I replied proudly. ‘I nearly found a perfect universe, but at least I got away from the ones it was surrounding me with.’

‘Anyway, that’s May sixth, around two pm.’ Zed wrote it in. ‘And then there’s last night, May seventh, around four am. Any more?’

‘Not that I know of,’ I responded glumly. ‘But maybe my blackout on the bus was significant?’ How much more damage was this creature going to do? And how on earth could I stop it?

‘Right, could be. We need to keep the list going, see if there’s a pattern.’

‘Perhaps there already is. One in February, one in March, one in April, now two in May already and we’ve half the month to go.
It could be that they are getting more frequent,’ Tara pointed this out with a rather sombre tone to her voice.

Zed on the other hand was positive. ‘Maybe, but it’ll become clearer with more examples. Now, on this page, let’s write down what we know about the hungry ghost. I’ll begin with the fact it looks like Liam.’ Zed underlined the words ‘hungry ghost’ and then underneath wrote ‘1. Looks like Liam (pig ugly).’ He winked at me. ‘What else?’

‘I’ve been getting hold of all the books I can that might help.’ An armchair stood near the main window, beside which lay half a dozen books. Geoffrey stood up and picked one up. ‘This has stories from the life of Yo-Kong Shen, a Chinese Buddhist from the sixteenth century. Two of them involve hungry ghosts. I think you should hear them.’

‘Go ahead.’ Zed remained poised to write.

The pages of the book had folded corners to mark the passages that Geoffrey wanted to read. This surprised me; surely Buddhists would take better care of their books? There was a smile on Tara’s face. She had noticed my expression and guessed my thinking.

‘I’ve had to translate it, so this is only the gist, except when we get to the ghosts, then I’ve tried to be more accurate.’

‘In his forty-fifth year Yo-Kong Shen went home as he had long promised. There he betook himself to a great mountain, far above the nearest village. Later, he told a disciple that it was too difficult to live at such a height, but that the pale blue view of the world below him helped achieve a knowing state of mind. Although he had intended to live alone, a young monk, Qumihao, climbed the mountain to study with the master.

‘That winter was hard. One cold day the two monks were meditating in their hut when a great snowfall came and sealed them in entirely. The people of the village were worried for them and came up the mountain as soon as it was safe to do so.
But five days passed before the villagers managed to reach the hut. When they dug through the snow they were amazed to find the monks beneath, completely unharmed, and while the
student
took food eagerly from the villagers, the master was free from hunger.

‘One clear night, when it seemed that to gaze upon the stars was to understand the truth of this existence, Yo-Kong Shen and his disciple were surprised to see orange lights, as several fire brands wended their way up the narrow mountain path. They went to learn more and found that the villagers had carried food all the way up the mountain to a certain cave.

‘Yo-Kong Shen inquired as to the purpose of this food and the villagers explained that many lifetimes ago a hungry ghost had lived in the cave. They wished to appease it with the
offering
that they brought every year, lest it return and once more devour the children and babies of their community. The
villagers
put down the rice, cakes and fruit, and left, trusting that because of their discipline the monks would not touch the food.

‘Despite all of his training alongside the master, Qumihao could not rid himself of craving. Looking at the shivering pallid skin that barely stretched over his ribs, Qumihao decided to eat the offering, lest the food be wasted. Later that night, when Yo-Kong Shen was meditating, the young monk left his master and returned to the cave, where he began to eat. Once his thin body had tasted the food, he could not help but devour everything in front of him until his belly stuck out, as full as it could be. Immediately thereupon, he fell asleep.

‘The master finished his meditation, to find Qumihao
staring
at him from the doorway of their hut. The disciple’s eyes were fires.

‘− You are not Qumihao.

‘− Let me in.

‘− Tonight I meditated on ghosts and the ways of banishing them.

‘− Let me in.

‘− If I let you in, what will you do?

‘− I will eat. I must eat.

‘− Swear that you will eat what you find in this dwelling.

‘− I swear. Let me in.

‘− Very well, you may enter.

‘The hungry ghost jumped towards the master’s throat, but he was not there, for Yo-Kong Shen had used his mastery of energy and was instantly at a great distance. The hungry ghost was alone in the hut.

‘The next day Yo-Kong Shen descended the mountain and when he passed the village, he told them that they need fear the ghost no more. The villagers asked after the young disciple and the master reported that he had departed his body, saying that Qumihao had been eaten by a wild creature. It is true that when the villagers saw the body of Qumihao the flesh of the hands and arms had been eaten. But when they saw the blood around his mouth, they set fire to the hut and never returned to that part of the mountain.’

‘Gross, he ate his own arms?’ I said ‘That’s disgusting.’

‘Clever though. The master guy got the hungry ghost to eat itself. Maybe there’s a clue for us.’ While listening to the story, Zed had been too involved to write, but now he jotted down a point.

‘I agree, the history contains many lessons and that is one of them.’ Geoffrey nodded.

‘Maybe, but look what happened to that Qumihao dude, like, he died.’ I must have sounded aggrieved, because a solemn silence followed.

Tara looked up at Geoffrey, who had already opened the book at the next marked page. ‘Is that the other account?’

‘It is.’

‘We should hear that, then discuss what to do.’

This got a nod of approval from Zed. ‘Good idea.’

‘In his seventy-second year a message came to Yo-Kong Shen beseeching him to assist a certain village by the sea. The master set forth with only his robe, his sandals and a stave to lean on. After six days, he came to the village, where he sat among the people and listened.

‘The village was burdened by an oppressive tax collector. Every month he would come and take all they had. When they had no more money in the entire village, he even took their
pots, pans and fishhooks. No matter how they pleaded with the tax collector, nor showed him their tears, he would not swerve from his harsh demands. As a result, many had left and those who remained were starving.

‘Yo-Kong Shen stayed in the village and taught the true path while he waited.

‘One night there were screams. A troop of soldiers had arrived and with them was the hated tax collector. He had become so fat that eight men were needed to carry his chair. The soldiers set him down in the middle of the village and shouted for their taxes. The only person who came to meet them was the master; the others did as he had told them and stayed in their huts, looking out.

‘– Who are you? − asked the tax collector.

‘– Yo-Kong Shen.

‘– Yo-Kong Shen, the monk?

‘The master bowed, and then looked at the tax collector and at his burning eyes.

‘– You are a hungry ghost. I have met your kind before.

‘– I am what I am. Are you here to pay taxes for these
villagers
? Where is the money?

‘– I will pay their taxes, but first please listen. Money will not satisfy you. Jewels and gold will not satisfy you. I am sure that you understand that. Remember too that all conditions change, as will yours. Think upon this truth while you have the
opportunity
as it is the only way to end your deep longing.

‘– I have no time for this. Where is the money?

‘– You know that I have followers from the islands of the
dawn, to the mountains of the sunset? You know that the Emperor’s mother has, every year, sent me chests full of gold to pray for her son?

‘The eyes of the tax collector grew moist and bright.

‘– Will you forgo the taxes of the village now and
forevermore
in return for everything that I possess?

‘– I will. − The tax collector replied, looking eagerly around for where the master kept his gold.

‘Yo-Kong Shen handed the tax collector his robe, his sandals and his stave. The tax collector looked at the master, at first
seeing
nothing but a naked old man. Then the truth became clear to him and he understood that Yo-Kong Shen had tricked him. For the master never kept any gift from his followers, but gave it to those who needed it. Nor did he keep one gold coin from the Emperor’s mother, though he did pray for the son.

‘The tax collector turned purple with fury, his eyes bulged and he began to choke. He would have cursed Yo-Kong Shen if he could have, but his rage filled him to bursting. With a gargled cry he fell from his chair and crashed to the ground, dead.

‘The soldiers carried the body away and it was a long time before the villagers ever saw another tax collector.’

‘Jays’, I wish Yo-Kong Shen was around today; he’d know what I should do.’ I sighed.

‘That tax collector was a bit stupid, though. I could see what was coming.’ On the page of his rough book for the traits of
hungry ghosts, Zed wrote ‘stupid’.

Geoffrey came and sat at the table again. ‘Perhaps not stupid, it might be more accurate to write that their appetites blind them to what the rest of us can see.’

‘Right you are.’ With a quick scribble Zed rewrote the line.

‘Also,’ Tara came in quickly, ‘put down that they both died after getting what they asked for.’

‘Well, you say they died,’ I pointed out, ‘but strictly speaking, the person they inhabited died.’ I gave the kind of self-aware cough that you do when you want to draw attention to yourself and furthered the effect by raising my eyebrows. Just to make sure they appreciated that the person who died in the stories was equivalent to me, I pointed several times at my chest.

Zed was frowning, I thought in sympathy with me, but he was looking at his notes. ‘That’s it. See. When the hungry ghost is here, it doesn’t just look like Liam, it is him! It takes over his body. See, Liam doesn’t remember those times, because he’s gone somewhere else, unconscious or asleep maybe.’

Skin really can crawl. It sort of stretches around the back of your head and along your forearms, all the tiny hairs there stand up. No sooner had Zed spoken than I felt it to be true; there had been times when the hungry ghost had somehow taken control of me. Even then, I suddenly realised, I had some memories of being the ghost. Later, when I’d been to hell and back, so to speak, I had those memories as clear as if they had been mine all along.

‘That’s right,’ I stuttered. ‘Actually it’s coming back to me a bit now. I wasn’t myself; I was hungry. The Valentine’s card …
Yeah, I can just about remember. I did go to school early. I was full of excitement.’ My voice dropped. ‘Full of wickedness, I mean.’

‘What about last night, when you came here at four am?’ asked Geoffrey.

‘Could you have left your house without anyone noticing?’ Tara turned to me.

‘I could, no problem. And now you say it, I do feel I was out on the streets last night. There was a fight … or something.’ It was all so elusive, but it was there. I’d seen and done things I wasn’t fully conscious of.

‘There we go then!’ Zed was triumphant, but not me. It was all very well figuring out that the ghost was getting here by entering my body, but that was bad news as far as I was concerned. Think for a minute how you’d feel if some evil person could use your body and make you do things to others that were horrible. I felt angry, frightened and helpless, all at the same time.

‘This is deadly. We’re making progress.’

‘Are we, Zed? A couple of stories, both of which end badly for the person taken over by the hungry ghost, and you think we’re making progress? Don’t you get it? I could become the ghost right now. I could attack you. I could do all sorts of terrible things!’ I stood up.

‘Chill out, dude. We have to figure out its modus operandi, and then we can smack it back down to hell and make it sorry it ever came into this world.’ Zed was being exaggeratedly cheerful, to try and head off my panic attack. To some extent it worked. His exuberance was reassuring, and I sat back down again.

‘I think Liam is right to be concerned. The hungry ghost is a very powerful creature, and it would have destroyed me if it could have. We are not simply going to be able to fight it, not physically.’ Admitting the problem was serious was good too; Geoffrey’s measured tones inspired more confidence than Zed’s attempt to portray the situation as if it needed some sort of martial arts star ready to kick ghost ass. ‘If the stories tell us anything relevant, they suggest that it is not strength that defeats the hungry ghost, but guile.’

‘Like I said,’ Tara raised her voice to make sure we paid
attention
, ‘stopping the ghost has got something to do with giving them what they want.’

‘And like I said. If we follow those stories, I end up dead. Look, think for a minute, what are you going to do next time you meet it? I’ll be gone, unconscious or something, so it’s up to you. I need your help. What are you going to do?’

They all looked at me sympathetically, responding to the note of distress in my voice. But they didn’t have any answers.