The Stone Man - A Science Fiction Thriller (61 page)

“I told you, stop calling me-”

“
Chuck! Chuckchuckchuuuuck!!
” Minnie suddenly screamed, and the jaded bravado dropped away completely as silent tears began. Charlie bit his lip, and waited a moment for them to fade before he tried his next idea.

“Don't cry, come on. Listen…” He hesitated before asking his next question, being forced to go somewhere he never really liked to. It had been a while… “Can you drive?”” he said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice and quietly hoping the answer would actually be no. She sniffed in response, and drew in a breath.

“I clearly shouldn't be allowed, but yes,” she replied, her voice croaky, and Charlie’s heart sank a notch.
Dammit…
he’d been hoping they’d have to take the bus. He
always
avoided being in cars.

“Where do you want to go?” Minnie continued. “I'm assuming this is the start of the bloody...killing spree, right? Drive the fucking...Fiesta through Tesco's shop window?” The hand dragged across the bottom of the screen as she wiped her nose. Again, Charlie found himself wondering where he physically was; how could he be stood behind her eyes? Not even her eyes in fact, but a strange representation of them?

First things first, Charlie. Plus, it's a dream, don't forget that,
the voice in his head said...but it sounded less confident than ever. Then Charlie realised he was listening to a voice in his own head, and quickly pushed that thought away before his mind blew.

“My house. We'll go to my house,” he said, firmly, pleased with his own idea and finding it infallible. “I'll tell you where the spare key is, and you can go in, hell, I'll tell you the password to my PC, you can go in there too...all stuff that you couldn't possibly know. Right? And then you'll have to believe me. Okay? And then we can decide if this is, I dunno, a psychic link or an out-of-body experience or whatever, and then decide what we do about it. Tell me what's wrong with that, eh?”

Silence again, followed by another sigh and a headshake. Charlie was about to do some shouting of his own, when the view began to rise from the floor.

“Okay, whatever you say Chuck, it's not like I had any other pla—sorry, Charlie, Charlie—let's go for a road trip. At least I'll have some company.”

“You're up for that? That's great. Do you…do you have a car of your own?”

“Only just, but yes. Hopefully it'll get us around Coventry and back.”

Great. An
old banger as well.
This just gets better
, thought Charlie, trying to smother his usual anxieties.

“Where the hell are we going anyway?” Minnie asked.

“Radford,” said Charlie, relieved at least that they were making progress and pushing thoughts of the dreaded passenger seat out of his head. A thought struck him. “Where are we at the moment, anyway?”

“Canley,” she said, moving to pick up a black woollen coat from the living room table. “Costa Del Canley. Not too far...” she caught herself, and gave a hollow laugh. “So it shouldn't inconvenience you too much.” Then, quietly to herself:
“What the fuck are you doing, you crazy bitch...”

They moved into the hallway and the mirror came into the view, showing Minnie's face again, now red-eyed with blotchy pink patches on her skin.

“Jesus, look at the state of me,” she said, sarcastically, running her hands through her tight curls. “I'm in no state to be seen out and about with my very own man-in-the-head. Girl-about-town, man-in-the-head. Not every day I get to do this sort of thing, right?” Her face crumpled slightly for a second, about to go again, but she swallowed it back. She stared into the mirror for a moment, and as Charlie watched he was suddenly struck by an uncanny sensation.

It was only brief, but for a second Charlie had the utter conviction that he recognised her; that he knew her face like that of an old, long-forgotten friend, reduced to a hazy memory by a distance of years. Then just as quickly, the moment was gone, and Minnie was yet again just a stranger whose life he’d been thrown into..

“Charlie?” Minnie said, in a small, suddenly scared voice.
Or maybe not suddenly,
Charlie thought. He wondered if maybe the annoying sarcasm was her defence mechanism against the world, protecting the real Minnie when she felt as terrified as she did now.

“I'm here. I wish I wasn't—no offence—but I'm here.”

“When we've been to your house...if it's there or not...will you leave me alone after that?” she asked. It was almost a plea. Charlie didn't know what to say.

“I'll try. I promise I'll try.”

She carried on staring into the mirror, and then he heard her keys jangle in her hand. Minnie—and Charlie with her—was turning and walking out of the front door.

***

In all the years Charlie had lived in Coventry, he’d never quite gotten his head around where each area ended and the next began; knowing the quickest way between them was even more of a challenge. Riding inside Minnie’s head, and inside her barely roadworthy old Ford Fiesta, it became immediately clear that she didn’t suffer from the same problem. He thought it best to be silent as they drove, even though he had questions; was she born here, what was her job, what the hell was her general problem anyway, other than having a strange man in her head (although he thought if he did ask that, he’d phrase the question slightly more pleasantly.) All of which he kept to himself, both out of politeness, all too aware that he effectively was trespassing on her life, and the fact that if the question was returned he’d never really be able to answer it, or at least explain properly why he was still there.

He’d moved there for a girl, after all, and quickly realised that she wasn’t The One (a lack of desire to do anything other than watch TV quickly became apparent in their new domestic situation) and after moving out he’d kept the same stop-gap job he’d taken upon arrival in the city. Telling himself he’d only work there whilst looking into doing something else—he had a degree in English after all, and had thought about becoming a copywriter—the same internal conversation had carried on for ten years, even when he was made manager of the venue.

These days, he didn’t even really bother convincing himself that he intended to do anything else; life was good, the hours suited him, the work was mainly a sociable laugh, and he was lucky enough to have what he considered to be a good group of friends. If the city wasn’t his first choice, and the pay wasn’t spectacular, he supposed he didn’t really class those issues as being enough reason to upset the status quo. Bottom line, he spent a lot of time having fun, and that was what he loved best in life. Starting a family wasn’t on his radar, held no appeal, but it wasn’t because he was shallow; he just prized his freedom very highly.

And yet here he was, sitting trapped in a black room, with no knowledge of how he got there in the first place.

Even worse, he was trapped in a black room that was trapped inside a moving car, one of his least favourite places on earth to be. Visions of the past flashed before his eyes; the roll and flip of the light, the smack of weight on water…he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, taking it away as best he could.

Eventually, it was Minnie who broke the silence.

“You there, Charlie?” she asked, sounding businesslike. Minnie had seemed to relax once they were in the car, now she had a job to do and something to occupy her mind.

“Yeah”, he replied, sitting up, keen to talk. As time had passed, he’d felt more and more guilty about his presence in her head, despite his annoyance at her hysterics. She’d been scared out of her wits, and had done nothing, as far as he knew, to deserve it. Anything he could do to be ‘nice’ now, he would do so, for her. “I’m here, just, you know, trying to respect your personal space. Well…as far as possible, anyway.” He chuckled slightly, trying to make a joke, but she didn’t return it.

“Sat nav says we’re nearly here,” she said, referring to the phone software that was directing her. The modern hardware looked out of place, clipped in its holder against the aging air vents of the decrepit vehicle. She hadn’t recognised the name of the street when he said it, but Charlie hadn’t even bothered to try and use it as proof of him being who he said he was. She’d only claim the same explanation that she’d used earlier, that of her own subconscious storage of something she’d heard, or seen once in passing, that was then forgotten by her conscious mind.

Charlie looked to the right of the view, clocking a shop he recognised as it went past.

“Yep, nearly here,” he confirmed. He’d known they were drawing near for the last few minutes, seeing landmarks he knew.
Thank God,
he thought.
Get out me out of this bloody thing.
He meant the car, and realised that he could have meant the black room as well. “Couple more streets down, on the left.”

The day was bright, being morning and early autumn, and as Charlie dimly acknowledged this, a switch flicked in his head and a jarring thought occurred.
Was
it Autumn? He’d just realised he had absolutely no idea what the date was, assuming all along that it was the next day after his night out, a Saturday, meaning today would be a Sunday. What if
wasn’t
Sunday? Then what the fuck would he do?

He tried to steady his shaking hands in front of the screen’s bright glow, and took a deep breath, wondering whether to ask Minnie.

One thing at a time.
Last thing you need to do is give her another crazy concept to worry about. Let’s do the bloody home visit first, confirm you’re the real deal, then see what’s up…Sunday mornings off, at least. Good thing you’re not supposed to be in work right now.

He opened his mouth to tell Minnie that it was the next turn, but the sat nav app got there first; she flicked the indicator without a word, and the Fiesta turned into Fynford Road. As Charlie laid eyes on his home street, he felt sudden pang of longing; here was normality, here was his life, represented by the terraced street he called home. It wasn’t the most glamorous street in the city by any stretch, but the rent was cheap, the building was sound, and he knew enough of his neighbours to say hello to that he felt there was a greater safety here. He wasn’t friends with any of them, as such—they didn’t make any more effort than a smile and a greeting, and neither did he—but they were acquaintances, good people as far as he knew.

Take a trip in their heads buddy, double check. You don’t bother asking permission, right?

Minnie pulled over in the first available space, and drew the keys out of the ignition. She sighed again, a heavy, resigned, I-can’t-believe-I’m-doing this release, and the view swung up to the ceiling of the car. Charlie noticed that she seemed to have a habit of looking up when she spoke to him.

“Right. We’re here. Which number am I looking for?”

“17. The one with the high hedge.” Charlie said, as calmly as possible. He was excited now, the prospect of getting her fully onside filling him with anticipation. This would be the start of the process that got him the fuck out of there, and Charlie decided in that moment that if she helped him fix this, he’d give her some money towards a new car. Patronising again perhaps, but he thought it was the least he could do.

“Of course it is. Doesn’t hurt that it’s also the one I’ve just parked near, right?”

She was persistent, he had to give her that.

“The hedge hides the door number from here. How could you know that one was number 17?”

She didn’t reply, and simply unbuckled her seat belt.

“Let’s just get this over with,” she said, quietly, and opened the door. Charlie felt his shoulders drop and his back settle the instant she stepped out of the metal cage.

The view moved across the fairly empty street as she walked—at that time of day, as usual, most of the cars were gone—and approached the house, which was obscured, as Charlie had pointed out, by the high hedge sticking up over the small fence that ran around the edge of the miniscule, gravelled front garden. Her hand came into view, pushing open the low gate that was made from a different wood to the rest of the fence. Minnie’s steps seemed to grow lighter once she was walking on the short, concrete path, as if she was worried about being caught trespassing. The scuffing sound of her trainers on the dull grey surface ceased as she picked her feet up properly, put them down with care.