Eli's Town Page 19

“And if they don't?”

  “A lot of people have died here,” he continues, “and ordinarily I'd have to consider you as the main suspect, but...” He pauses. “Well, to tell the truth, Ms. Denton, I've been ordered to release you. Seems someone higher up the food chain wants to take over this investigation. That doesn't really sit well with me, but I don't suppose there's much I can do about it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Before he can answer, a black limousine pulls up nearby, and a moment later two dark-suited men climb out and make their way toward us. As they slip sunglasses over their eyes, I feel a shiver pass through my body. Something about these men, something in their body language as they head this way, marks them out as different, as if they're already in charge of the entire scene.

  “Good luck,” the sheriff whispers to me, with a hint of sadness in his voice. “I'm sorry, Ms. Denton, but this is way above my pay-grade.”

  As he walks away, the two dark-suited men reach the car, and one of them pulls the door open.

  “Holly Denton?” the other man asks.

  “Who wants to know?” I ask cautiously, as two more ambulances drive past.

  “We're agents with a federal office just outside of Harpersville,” the man replies, flashing a badge at me but not giving me enough time to make out the details. “We heard about your experiences here and we have a few questions. I imagine the local police have been rather skeptical, but I can assure you that we take your claims far more seriously. Let me start by assuring you that we believe every word of your story.”

  “Actually,” I reply, “I was told I'd be allowed to go home this afternoon.”

  “I'm not sure that'll be possible,” the second man tells me. “A whole lot of people were killed here last night, Ms. Denton, and your car was used in the crime. We had to step in and make some deals on your behalf, to ensure you didn't get locked up on suspicion of multiple vehicular homicide.” He pauses, as if he expects me to fall gratefully into their arms and let them take me away. “Now, we could un-make those deals and walk away, leave you to languish in some small-town jail cell, but that'd be a waste of our time and it'd land you in a very serious situation.” He turns to his colleague. “They have the death penalty in this state, don't they?”

  “I believe they do,” his colleague replies.

  “Tricky,” the second man adds, turning back to me. “I wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now, Ms. Denton. I mean, we both know you're innocent, but explaining that to a jury might be difficult. You'd be facing a very long, very uncertain process.”

  “Or,” the first man continues, “you could come with us and talk to some people who are very... open-minded about the kind of thing that seems to have happened to you. People who already know what's possible.”

  Staring at them, I realize there's no way they're going to take no for an answer.

  “So you believe me?” I ask, feeling a faint, cautious hint of relief.

  “Let's just say that we have reason to consider certain possibilities.”

  “Your uncle Eli's body won't be going to the same hospital as everyone else,” the second man tells me. “His autopsy will take place at our facility, and it'll be conducted by people who already have an idea what they're looking for.” A faint smile crosses his lips. “From what we've seen so far, it would appear that his death was a little different to the others. His head seems to have been blown clear off his body, but I doubt we'll find any evidence of a gunshot wound. Must've been some serious pressure that was applied, though. Maybe from inside his skull.”

  “I didn't do that,” I reply, with tears in my eyes. “I mean, I never meant to hurt anyone, I just -”

  “We know,” the first man says, stepping back to let me out of the car. “We can take you to people who can help you, to people who understand what you've been through. Your uncle would appear to have had quite a gift, and judging by everything you told the sheriff this morning, you might very well share that gift.”

  “We'd like to help you,” the second man continues. “It'd be a terrible shame if your abilities went unnoticed and, instead, you ended up being charged with all these murders.”

  “Please,” the first man adds, “there's no need to sit around here. There's a plane waiting to take you to Harpersville. You're free to turn us down, but I would very much encourage you to consider our kind offer. We have significant resources and we genuinely want to help, and all we ask for in return is a little of your time.”

  “You know about this already?” I ask. “This kind of thing, I mean? You know it's possible?”

  “Please, Ms. Denton. The plane is waiting.”

  Climbing out of the car, I look out across the town square for moment, watching as severed body parts are placed in individual evidence bags. I can't imagine how Tulepa can ever be a normal town again, not after everything that has happened here. Turning, I see that a crew is already working on my car, slowing attaching lines to a tractor as if they're about to take it away. After all the chaos of last night, the disaster scene is starting to appear almost normal again although the grass underfoot is still damp with blood. I guess soon everything will have been tidied away: all the dead bodies, all the blood, all the broken glass and metal. There'll just be the empty town square left, and maybe they'll even tidy that away too.

  I wouldn't be surprised if, in five years' time, Tulepa is just a scarred patch of empty soil.

  “Dean,” I stammer, turning to the two dark-suited men. “My boyfriend, he...” I watch as a forensic worker picks up a severed arm and places it in a clear bag. “He was here, he died. He should have a proper burial.”

  “Someone'll be going through all the body parts,” the second man says, taking my arm and leading me toward the black limousine, “and putting them together. Eventually everyone who died will be identified, and I'm sure a proper burial will be arranged in due course. Any bits that go unidentified will be interred separately.”

  Too stunned to argue, I climb into the limousine, while still looking across the town square. I swear, all morning the world has seemed different, as if something has changed in my head. I open my mouth to say something, to tell these two men that I need to go and check on Tatty, but suddenly the door is slammed shut and I find I can barely see out through the tinted windows. I've been expecting to burst into tears over the past few hours, but that moment hasn't come.

  Not yet.

  “Don't you worry about a thing,” the first man says as he and his colleague climb into the front of the car. “We're gonna take real good care of you. That's quite a gift you've got, Ms. Denton. You wouldn't want it to go to waste, would you? Every person on the planet has a duty to explore their own potential.”

  “Sure,” I whisper, even though I feel as if something's terribly wrong. As the limousine pulls away, I turn and look through the rear window, watching as first the town square and then the town itself recede into the distance. Part of me wants to open the door and jump out, to run back and try to help, but at the same time I'm not sure there's much I could do, especially not while my hands are trembling so much. Turning, I stare ahead as the limousine bumps along the rough road. All I want is to calm my mind, to stop thinking about anything, but thoughts are rushing through my head. “What'll happen to Tulepa?” I ask finally.

  “I beg your pardon, M'am?”

  “The town's dead now, isn't it?” I ask. “I mean... Who'd want to live there?”

  “Someone'll deal with that. Don't worry too much about things that are outside your control. You're a very lucky woman. Where you're going now, there are people who can really help you. You might just be at the start of something huge, Ms. Denton. Something most people could never even dream of.”

  “I don't want any of that,” I whisper, closing my eyes and focusing on the sensation of the car speeding away from Tulepa. Those tears are coming; they're not here yet, but they're coming. “I don't want to be part of something huge. I just want to be normal.”

&nb
sp; “You blew your uncle's head off with the power of your thoughts,” the second man says after a moment. “I don't think the word normal has a place in your vocabulary anymore. Where we're going, there are some people who are very interested to meet you, and I think you might just be their strongest specimen yet. Don't worry. We're all on your side.”

  I want to believe them, really I do, but as I sit with my eyes closed and feel the car bumping along an uneven road, I swear I can sense something nearby. It's almost as if I can feel the emotions of these two men: there's confidence, sure, but they're also hiding a sense of uncertainty, maybe even fear, and after a moment I realize that they're holding something back from me. I can't put my finger on how I know, but suddenly it becomes clear that once they get me onto the plane, everything is going to change. They don't want to help me.

  They want to contain me.

  Opening my eyes, I stare straight ahead. A moment later, the second man turns to me. He smiles for a moment, but as we make eye contact his smile freezes and then fades.

  I don't think I want to get on the plane with them, and I think I know how to make them stop the car.

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  “Don't cry,” Tatty whispered, holding Robert tight and putting a hand on the back of his head. “Come on, it's okay, there's no need to cry. Momma's here and everything's fine now. We're together.”

  She waited, closing her eyes for a moment as a smile crept across her face. Sure, she preferred it when her son didn't bawl his eyes out, but at the same time she'd come to realize that crying was normal for a baby, and normality was the most important thing after everything that had happened in Tulepa. All she wanted was to live a nice, safe, quiet life with a normal, healthy child. As Robert began to settle again, she set him back down in his crib and watched as he stared up at her.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “Feeling better now?”

  Robert smiled and let out a faint, gurgling laugh. Over the past few months, Tatty had carefully studied other babies whenever she'd been given the chance, and she'd come to understand more or less how they were expected to behave. Despite her constant fear that there might be something else lingering behind her son's eyes, she was increasingly certain that he was just a normal, healthy child.

  And that felt like an absolute miracle.

  Hearing someone knocking on her apartment door, she leaned down and kissed Robert's forehead.

  “I'll be right back to feed you, okay?” she said with a smile, gently tickling his belly, just enough to make him laugh again. “I'll always be right back, any time I have to leave the room. Count on it.” She lingered for a moment longer, just to be certain that his smile was genuine, and then finally she forced herself to leave the room.

  Heading through to the hallway, she stopped to make sure there was no baby formula on her t-shirt, before unchaining the door and pulling it open, only to find a worried-looking woman standing in the corridor outside.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Natalie Sutton?” the woman asked cautiously, with a hint of tears in her eyes.

  “Is there something you want?” Tatty replied, instantly tensing. No matter how many times she told herself that she was safe now, in the back of her mind there was a constant, nagging fear.

  “I...” The woman paused, as if she wasn't quite sure how to continue. “I'm really sorry to disturb you, but my name is Karen Denton, and I think you might be the last person who saw my sister Holly before she disappeared. The last person I can talk to, anyway. She... Well, she mentioned you once or twice on the phone, so I figured it was worth a shot. Tracking you down was kind of tricky.”

  “Disappeared?” Tatty frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean no-one's heard from her for the past three months,” Karen continued, “and we're all starting to think... Well, we're starting to get really worried. Some men came and talked to us a while back... Well, it was more like they interrogated us, really, like they thought we were lying when we said we hadn't heard from her. Then they started watching us, keeping us under surveillance all the time, until about a week ago when they either got better at hiding or they gave up.” She paused. “And now I'm getting desperate for news about my sister, so I was hoping that maybe you could tell me how she was doing the last time you saw her. I know it's a long-shot, but I've tried everything else and... Please, anything you know, even the slightest thing, might help. The police have been stone-walling us, it's almost as if they've just decided not to help. You're my last hope.”

  Tatty paused, before stepping aside to let her into the apartment. “How much do you know already?” she asked.

  “Nothing, really,” Karen replied. “Our uncle has vanished too. There was some kind of incident at Tulepa, but it's all being swept under the rug and I can tell they're lying. I don't care what happened, but I have to find my sister!”

  Tatty opened her mouth to reply, but for a moment no words came out. “I can tell you what I know,” she said finally, even though she hated the idea of talking or even thinking about Tulepa again, “but... It might sound crazy. You're just going to have to believe me when I tell you it's all true.”

  As Karen nodded gratefully, Tatty pushed the door shut and Robert started crying again in the next room.

  ***

  “Now this is not our finest room, you understand,” the landlord explained, pushing the door open to reveal a small, bare room with just a bed in one corner and a rickety desk against the far wall. The blinds had been pulled down, covering a small window and leaving the room in relative gloom. “It's cheap, though, and clean, and you won't be troubled by noise from anyone else in the building. All the other tenants are quiet as mice. So long as you're not looking for anything too fancy, you should be just fine.”

  “I'm sure I will,” the man replied, setting his suitcase on the ground. “It's perfect.”

  “Like I said,” the landlord continued, “rent is due on the first of each month, and I only accept cash.” He paused, waiting for a reply. “Um... What did you say your name was again?”

  The man looked around the room for a moment, before turning to him. “Dean,” he said with a smile. “Dean Holt.”

  “And what line of work are you in, Mr. Holt?”

  “Oh, I'll do anything,” Dean replied. “I just felt the time was right for a change, you know? I'm not afraid of some manual labor. In fact, I'd like to get my hands dirty, really use these muscles.” He looked down at his arms, as if he was admiring himself. “I feel it'd be a shame for someone like me not to break a sweat. I think I'd go crazy sitting at some desk all day.” He paused for a moment. “Youth is a precious gift, and not one to be wasted. When one has an engine at one's disposal, one should run it at full speed.”

  “That attitude makes a refreshing change,” the landlord replied. “Too many people around here are losing touch with the concept of hard work.”

  “Not me,” Dean continued with a faint smile. “I happen to like fulfilling my potential, both mentally and physically. There was a time in my life when I sat around all the time, just staring at the walls, but those days are over. Hard work is good for the mind as well as the body.”

  “Never a truer word did I hear,” the landlord said, heading back out to the corridor. “I'll leave you to settle in, Mr. Holt, but if you need anything, anything at all, just come knock on my door, okay? I remember how it was when I first came to the city, I didn't know anyone at all but a few kind souls helped me out so if there's anything I can do for you, just let me know.”

  “I'll be sure to remember that,” Dean replied, before pushing the door shut.

  Finally alone, he looked around the room, taking slow, deep breaths. Wincing slightly, he began to unbutton his shirt, before pulling it away to reveal his bandaged chest. After removing the bandage, he made his way to the mirror above the sink and examined the un-stitched wound in his flesh. There was no fresh bleeding, and he'd come to realize that the tip of the knife'
s blade hadn't, in fact, pierced his heart at all, although it had come extremely close. Heading to the other side of the room, he set his suitcase on the bed and opened it, revealing cash and several packs of fresh bandages.

  He stood in silence for a moment.

  “Hush your complaining,” he whispered finally. “I can hear you, you know, whimpering away in the corner. What exactly do you think you're gonna achieve? You never used this body for anything other than drinking, fighting and fornicating anyway. You were wasting it.” He paused for a moment, as if he could hear someone answering in his mind. “Not a chance,” he continued. “Anyway, my original body is long gone, so I had no choice, I had to hitch a ride in another, and yours was the most convenient at the moment when Holly...”

  Another pause.

  “Well, let's not talk about her,” he added, reaching into the suitcase and taking out another bandage. He spent a few minutes setting the bandage in place on his chest, before heading to the window and finally pulling up the blinds.

  Outside, the city of New York lay spread out before him. More than eight million people, going about their daily lives in one of the busiest places on the planet.

  “Oh yeah,” Eli said with a smile, through Dean's mouth. “Now this is my kind of town.”

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