Road of the Dead (8 page)

After a while, Cole came back over and sat down next to me again.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he said.

There was no anger or bitterness in his voice. He wasn’t annoyed with me for not telling him about the Dead Man—he just wanted to know why I hadn’t.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

“Did you think I wouldn’t believe you?”

“No.”

“What, then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I was just waiting to see if it meant anything.”

“Why shouldn’t it mean anything?”

“Because up until now it didn’t matter who killed Rachel, did it? You said it yourself when we were talking to Pomeroy—it doesn’t matter who did it or why they did it or how she died. She’s dead. Dead is dead. Nothing can change that—reasons, revenge, punishment, justice. Nothing can change what’s already done.” I looked at him. “Right?”

“Right.”

“So, up until now, the Dead Man didn’t mean anything. It didn’t matter who he was. It didn’t change anything.”

“Up until now.”

“Yeah—but things are different now. Now he means something. If we can find him and prove he killed Rachel, we can bring her home and put her to rest. That’s what Mum wants, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what we’re doing here.”

“Right.”

“And that’s all that matters.”

Cole lit a cigarette and smoked it thoughtfully for a while, digesting what I’d just told him. I watched the smoke drifting in the breeze, and I wondered idly if what I’d just told him was true. I guessed that most of it was. And even if it wasn’t, I was pretty sure that Cole hadn’t been telling me everything he knew, either. But that was OK.

“All right,” he said quietly. “Tell me about this Dead Man.”

“There’s nothing else to tell,” I said. “I’ve told you everything I know about him.”

“No, you haven’t—why do you call him the Dead Man?”

“Because he’s dead.”

“But you called him that
before
he killed Rachel. He couldn’t have been dead then, could he?”

“Yeah, he was—”

“Come on, Rube. You can’t kill someone if you’re already dead.”

“He wasn’t dead
physically
.”

“What do you mean?” Cole frowned. “What other kinds of dead
are
there?”

“He was as good as dead,” I tried to explain. “It was already decided. I don’t think it even mattered whether he killed Rachel or not. He was going to die whatever he did.”

“Someone had already decided to kill him?”

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that there was nothing he could do about it. Once it had been decided, that was it. He was dead from then on.”

“And he’s definitely dead now?”

“Dead and buried.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s probably around here somewhere, but I’m not sure.”

“Are you sure about the rest of it?”

“No.”

“But you felt it?”

“I think so.”

“You
think
so?”

“Yeah,” I said, “I think so.”

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I could tell him what I wanted to tell him. We’d never really talked about
the weird stuff I feel before. I knew he knew about it, and I knew he believed in it, but I’d never tried explaining it to him. I’d never been sure that he wanted me to. And I wasn’t sure now, either. But I knew if I didn’t do it now, I probably never would. So, before I could change my mind, I just opened my mouth and started talking.

“It’s hard to explain,” I told him, “but when I get these feelings, I don’t have any control over them. They just come to me. I can’t
do
anything with them. They’re not facts or thoughts or sensations, they’re not anything I can describe. They’re not even feelings, really. I only think of them as feelings because that’s the closest I can get.”

I looked at Cole to see how he was taking it so far. His face was blank, but his eyes were waiting for me to go on.

“I don’t
know
what they are,” I went on, “and a lot of the time I don’t even know what they mean. Sometimes it’s simple. Most of the stuff I get from you is pretty simple.” I smiled at him. He didn’t smile back. “I don’t get everything,” I said, trying to reassure him. “I only get what I’m given.”

“Who gives it to you?” he said.

“I don’t know.”

He nodded. “What about the stuff that isn’t simple?”

“I don’t know…it’s like it doesn’t come to me fully formed. It comes in pieces—fragments, notes, layers, shades…weird kinds of pieces. And when that happens, I have to guess what’s missing—or feel what’s missing—
and then I have to try to work out what’s supposed to be there. That’s why I’m not sure about stuff sometimes. I know it’s supposed to be there, but I don’t know what I’m looking for. I don’t even know what I’m looking
at
half the time. It’s like trying to solve a multidimensional crossword puzzle with most of the clues missing, and the clues that
aren’t
missing are written in a language I don’t understand.”

Cole nodded again. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked at me. “Pretty weird stuff,” he said thoughtfully.

“Yeah.”

“But it’s real?”

“As real as anything else. It doesn’t lie.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re sure about everything.”

“No.”

“Are you sure about Rachel?”

“Absolutely.”

“What about the Dead Man?”

“Yeah, I’m sure about him. I just don’t know any details.”

“What about the stuff in your dream? Was that real?”

“I think some of it was…but some of it was just a dream.” I closed my eyes, feeling the fear of the dream again—the coldness, the darkness, the death. I looked at Cole. “You don’t feel anything when you’re dead, do you?”

“No,” he said simply. “That’s what death
is
—feeling nothing.”

“And if there’s nothing to feel, there’s nothing to fear, is there?”

“Nothing at all.”

We finally drifted off to sleep again just as the first light of dawn was beginning to color the sky. My last waking thought was of Rachel. I could see her quite clearly: her sleeping skin, her shining black hair, her face on the pillow beside me.

Go home, Ruben
, she whispered again.
Let the dead bury the dead.

Go home.

I
’m not used to silence in the morning. I’m used to the clatter and grind of the breaker’s yard, the groan of car crushers and scrap magnets, the drone of traffic on the East London streets. So when I woke up that morning and everything was quiet, it took me a while to realize where I was. When I finally did realize where I was—Dartmoor, farmhouse, bedroom—I also realized how tired I was. I’d only had about an hour’s sleep all night. My eyes were thick, my body ached, my head was all tight and buzzy.

I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but I knew that I wouldn’t. Sunlight was streaming in through the window, birds were singing…everything was
too
quiet. I could hear too much: Abbie and Vince in the kitchen downstairs, Cole in the bathroom, a dog barking somewhere in the distance. And now the smell of breakfast was beginning to drift up the stairs—bacon and eggs, toast, coffee…

It was all very nice—but I wished I wasn’t there. I wished I was at home—in
my
house, in
my
room, in
my
bed, smelling
my
breakfast.

After a minute or two, the bedroom door opened and Cole came in.

“Come on, Rube,” he said, “it’s time to get up. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

I didn’t move.

I could feel him looking at me, then I heard him crossing the room, and then I heard myself swearing at him as he yanked the duvet off my bed and threw it on the floor. I was only wearing a pair of boxers, and the sudden blast of fresh air on my skin was shocking.

“Shit, Cole,” I snapped, sitting up straight. “I might have been
naked
.”

He didn’t even look at me. He just turned away and went over to get something from his bag. I watched him, remembering when he’d left the house yesterday morning and removed something from the trunk of the smashed-up Volvo in the yard. I tried to see what he was doing now, but he had his back to me and was keeping the bag out of sight. I knew what he was doing, though. I made a mental note to bring it up with him later, then I got out of bed and started getting dressed.

“What’s the plan?” I said.

“I want to go into the village and poke around for a while, see what I can find. See if anyone’s got anything to say. Then I might go up to the gypsy camp.” He retied his
bag and turned around to face me. “I don’t understand what they’re doing here.”

“The gypsies?”

“Yeah—I mean, there’s nothing here for them, is there? No work, nowhere to sell anything. Are there any fairs around?”

“Not that I know of.”

He shook his head. “It’s not even much of a site.”

“Maybe there’s some work around that we don’t know about. There’s plenty of farms…”

“It’s all sheep and cattle. Gypsies don’t work with sheep and cattle.”

“Maybe they’re stealing them?”

“No one steals sheep anymore. It’s not worth the effort. Do you know how much you get for a sheep these days?”

“Well, maybe they’re here to look after us?”

“What?”

“Like angels.”

“Angels?”

I grinned at him. “Guardian angels.”

He didn’t even bother telling me I was an idiot, he just shook his head and started putting on his shoes. “Anyway,” he said, “I might go up and talk to them later if I’ve got time.”

“Do you think they’ll want to talk to us? You know what some of them think of Dad.”

“They can think what they like.” He looked at me. “You won’t be there, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“You’re staying here.”

“What?”

“I want you to stay here—”

“No way,” I said. “I’m coming with you. I’m not letting you—”

“Listen to me,” he said, holding up his hand. “Just listen a minute.” He looked over at the door, then spoke quietly. “There’s something going on here, isn’t there?”

“Yeah, but—”

“We need to find out what it is.” He looked at me. “Right?”

“Yeah, I suppose…”

“There’s no suppose about it, Rube. We need to know what’s going on. One of us has to stay here.”

“All right—but why does it have to be me?”

“Because if you go into the village and meet up with Red and Big Davy and whoever else is there, they’ll scare the shit out of you.” He paused, looking me in the eye. “And if you stay here you can take a look at the place where Rachel’s body was found.”

I knew what he meant, and I knew he was right. It made sense for him to go to the village, and it made sense for me to stay here. I still didn’t like it, but then we weren’t here to
like
things, were we?

“OK?” said Cole.

“Yeah, OK. I’ll ask Abbie to tell me where Rachel was found. She can draw me a map or something—”

“No, get her to take you there. Don’t go on your own. If Abbie doesn’t want to take you, or if she’s out all day or something, wait for me to get back and we’ll go together.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

I looked at him. His face said—
Don’t argue
. So I didn’t.

“All right,” I said. “Is there anything else you want me to do?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know…I mean, how am I supposed to find out what’s going on? What should I do?”

“Nothing—just hang around, see how it feels.” He almost smiled. “See if anything comes to you.”

Not much happened at the breakfast table. Vince was quiet, concentrating on his food, and Abbie didn’t even sit down. She just pottered around making coffee and toast and keeping out of the way. Her eyes looked a bit red from crying, but then I expect mine probably did, too.

Outside, the sky looked clear and bright, and a pale white sun was beginning to warm the air.

When Vince had finished eating, he wiped his plate with a slice of bread, popped the bread in his mouth, then washed it all down with a big slurp of tea. “You need a lift anywhere?” he said to Cole. “I’m heading off to Plymouth in a minute.”

“Could you drop me off in the village?”

“No trouble.” He drained the tea from his mug. “Going anywhere in particular?”

“Not really.” Cole looked at him. “Anywhere in particular you’d recommend?”

“Not really.” Vince put his mug down and stood up. “I’ll be ready in about five minutes—OK?”

Cole nodded. As Vince left the room and went upstairs, Abbie came over and started clearing the table.

“Are you going anywhere today?” I asked her.

She shrugged. “I shouldn’t think so.”

“Do you mind if I stay here with you?”

She paused for a moment. “Aren’t you going with Cole?”

“I’m a bit tired,” I said. “I thought I’d just hang around here…if that’s OK with you?”

“Yeah, fine,” she said indifferently, taking the plates over to the sink. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Five minutes later I heard Vince starting up the Land Rover. I went out into the hallway and saw Cole coming down the stairs with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“How long do you think you’ll be?” I asked him.

“I don’t know…as long as it takes. If I’m going to be late I’ll give you a call.”

“Don’t forget—”

“There’s no cell signal. Yeah, I know. I’ll use a phone box and call you here.”

He started toward the door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Cole?” I said as he opened the door.

He turned around. “What?”

I nodded at the bag on his shoulder. “Do you really need that?”

His eyes blinked hesitantly. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

He didn’t know what to say. He studied my eyes, trying to work out if I knew what he had in the bag or if I was just guessing. I let him look. It didn’t make any difference to me—I didn’t know whether I was guessing or not myself.

While I was waiting for him to say something, a car horn sounded from the yard. Cole leaned out the door and waved his hand at Vince, then he turned back to me.

“I’d better go,” he said. “I’ll see you later—OK?”

Before I could say anything else, he’d walked out and shut the door.

I went upstairs and used the bathroom, then I wandered back down and joined Abbie in the kitchen. She was doing the washing up. As I sat down at the kitchen table, she flashed a quick smile at me.

“All right?” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Looks like we’ve been left behind.”

“Yeah.”

She smiled again and went back to the dishes. I knew
I should have made more of an effort to talk to her, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Cole. I was worried about him. I was worried about who he might meet in the village—Red, Davy, Bowerman, the creepy guy with the beard. He was bound to meet up with some of them sooner or later. In fact, knowing Cole, he was probably going to be looking for them. And when he found them?

That’s what I was worried about. I just hoped he’d get through the day without killing anyone.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Abbie said.

“Excuse me?”

“Coffee,” she repeated, waggling a cup at me.

“Oh, right…yeah, please.” I smiled at her. “Sorry, I was miles away.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, “I don’t suppose you’re sleeping that well at the moment.”

I didn’t know what to say to that—she’d probably heard me crying in the night, and she probably knew that I’d heard
her
crying, too—so I just shrugged and smiled at her again. She smiled back at me and started making the coffee.

“Do you know what Cole’s doing in the village?” she asked casually.

“Just looking around, I think.”

She nodded. “What does he think he’s going to find?”

“I don’t know. Maybe something about Rachel…”

Abbie didn’t say anything. She continued making the
coffee—filling the cups, getting the milk out of the fridge, looking for a teaspoon. I thought I saw the glint of a tear in her eye, but I could have been mistaken.

“What did you do when she was here?” I asked her.

“What do you mean?”

“You and Rachel—what did you do?”

She shrugged. “Nothing much. We just hung around, mostly…you know—talking, eating, going out for a walk now and then.” She smiled sadly. “It was really nice. There’s not much to do around here anymore, and Vince is away a lot of the time, so it gets a bit lonely. It was nice to have some company for a change.”

“What about the farm?” I said. “Doesn’t that keep you busy?”

“What farm?”

“All this,” I said, looking vaguely out the window. “All these fields and buildings and everything…isn’t it a farm?”

“It used to be. Most of it doesn’t belong to us anymore. My mother sold a lot of the land when she was ill. Me and Vince tried to keep things going for a while after she died, but it didn’t work out. We’ve had to sell what was left of the land.”

She looked out the window. “The farm buildings are still ours, not that they’re any use to us anymore. And we still own the house…but that’s about it.” She looked over at me. “Do you want milk and sugar?”

“Yes, please. Four sugars.”

“Four?”

“I like sugar.”

She fiddled around with the milk and sugar for a while, then brought the coffees over to the table and sat down beside me. “I knew Rachel for a long time, you know. We used to be really close.”

“I know—I remember you used to come around to our place after school sometimes.”

She smiled again. “That was a lifetime ago.”

“Do you ever think of going back?”

“To London?” She shook her head. “I still miss it sometimes, but I could never go back. I couldn’t leave this house. It was my mum’s. She was born here, she died here. It means too much to me. And besides, Vince could never live in London.” She laughed to herself. “He couldn’t cope. It’d drive him mad.”

“Does he come from around here?”

She nodded, sipping her coffee. “He was born here—in the village. He’s never lived anywhere else.”

“What did he think of Rachel?”

Abbie froze, her coffee cup paused in midair, and her eyes went cold. I knew I’d said the wrong thing—I knew it as soon as I’d said it. It was a question too far. Too close. Too pushy. I looked innocently at Abbie, hoping she’d let me get away with it, but I knew I was wasting my time. All I could do was watch and wait as she slowly lowered her cup to the table, stared at it for a moment, then raised her eyes and fixed me with a hateful stare.

“You just can’t leave it alone, can you?” she said icily.

“I didn’t mean anything—”

“Yeah, you did. You and your brother have been niggling away at me ever since you got here.
Where were you when Rachel died? What were you doing? What did you see? What did you do?
I mean,
Christ…
”—she shook her head angrily—“
…
I’ve already
told
you everything I know about Rachel. I’ve
told
you what happened. I’ve
told
you where I was. I’ve
told
you I’m sorry. What more do you want from me? And now this…interrogating me about Vince, like
he
had something to do with it—”

“I didn’t say that. I was only asking—”

“Don’t
lie
to me,” she snapped. “God, you’re worse than your brother. At least he’s got the guts to be honest about it. At least he doesn’t
pretend
to give a shit about anyone else.”

I couldn’t really argue with her. I didn’t
want
to argue with her. And even if I did, I wouldn’t have known what to say. So I didn’t say anything. I just sat there, trying not to look guilty, but probably not succeeding.

Abbie went on staring at me for a while, then she shook her head again and got up from the table and walked out without saying a word.

I waited until she’d stomped up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door, then I closed my eyes and rewound the tape recorder inside my head and played back the last fifteen minutes. It was interesting stuff. I wasn’t sure what any of it meant, but it gave me a lot to think about.

When I’d finished thinking about it, I drained the last dregs of my cold sugary coffee, then went outside to get some fresh air.

The farmyard seemed a lot smaller in the daylight. When we’d arrived last night, I’d somehow gotten the impression that it was a big old rambling place with acres of wasteground and dozens of tumbledown buildings. But now, as I shut the front door and stepped out into the sunlight, I could see it for what it really was—and it wasn’t very much at all. Just a medium-sized patch of rutted dirt, a ramshackle barn, and a couple of moldering outhouses.