The Stone Man - A Science Fiction Thriller (60 page)

“Anyway, anyway, we were out in Cov, and then we went back to someone’s house, and then, I don’t know, I must have fallen asleep or drank too much or whatever, but somehow…
some
how…”

He stumbled, tripping at the vital hurdle.

“What?” she asked, the view still scanning around the room, as if hoping to find the answers there.

“Ah…ah
fuck
it, look, I, I, I woke up or whatever and here I am, in your fucking head. I don’t know how I got here, and hell, I might be gone in the next five minutes for all I know, but I’m here, I’m in your head, here I am.”

Silence again. Then:

“You’re…you’re what?”

“I’m in your head. I’m stood here, in front of this, this…” He waved his hands in front of the immense, ethereal screen before him, taking it in as yet another rapid flicker shivered across it. These had been happening constantly; later he would realise that this effect was due to her blinking. “This screen thing, okay, and everywhere else in here it’s just black, and I’m stood here, completely…” he trailed off, looking down at his genitals and deciding that it would probably be best not to mention the nakedness to a scared woman in a flat on her own, “…completely without any idea as to what’s going on.”

Silence again. Then:

“A screen…there’s a screen in my head? What…what screen, what the hell are you talking about?”

Charlie rubbed at his face, angry now, both with himself and her. Of course she didn’t get it, it was un-gettable, but she wasn’t even coming
close
to understanding and he was doing a lousy job of explaining it. He needed to get the important facts across if they were ever going to move on, and spare her the details. He needed a different approach.

“Look, don’t worry about that, forget it, forget it. Listen. Right, ok, I’ll start again. My name is Charlie. Charlie Wilkes. What’s yours?”

There was a long, uncertain silence.

“Minnie,” she replied, her voice shaking again. She was about to go any second.

“Are you scared to talk to me?” asked Charlie, as tenderly as he could manage. “You don’t have to be. Talk to me. What’s your surname? You might as well get used to talking to me you know, as we need to talk to sort this all out, yeah? Come on. What’s your surname?”

“I don’t…I don’t like to…” the tears were coming again, and Charlie knew he needed to stop this fast before she lost it.

“It’s okay, have a second—“ he began, but she cut him off, her voice rising.

“If I talk to you…it’ll get worse…I think it’s finally happening, I think it’s finally happened and you’re not real and I’m going cra-ha-ha-
haaaAAAAAAA
-“ and then she was gone, wailing again…but this time it was different. This time the screen went black and the sobs became muffled, the low, mournful cries of someone who has given up. She’d dropped her head into her hands or onto her forearms, her eyes squeezed shut as she cried. Charlie realised, in that moment, why her earlier reaction had been so severe; this was someone not entirely comfortable in their own mind, someone already scared of finding voices in their head or visions in their mind. He didn’t have time to dwell on that, however; plus, he was now swallowed by total darkness. Terror threatened to take him and ruin the small amount of progress he’d just made.

“Minnie, trust me, you’re not going crazy,” Charlie said, raising his voice almost to a shout to be heard, “I know it
sounds
crazy, this whole situation is crazy, but I promise you I’m the real deal! Okay? My name is Charlie Wilkes, I work in a pub—Barrington’s, you know Barrington’s?—I support the Sky Blues even though I never go to the Ricoh, I grew up in Oxford, I moved here, what, ten years ago? I like, ah, I like movies and books, uh, I like, I like music…
shit,
who doesn’t, okay, I like cheese, and I hate getting up early! The last film I saw was The English Patient on Blu-Ray, the, uh, the last thing I bought from the shop was a Pepperami and a can of Sprite! My favourite place to eat in Cov is the Ocean Restaurant, and I didn’t vote last election day because I forgot to get to the polling station in time…okay? Is any of this getting through to you?”

“…you’re not real…”

“I
am!
I promise I am! Look, if I wasn’t real, right, and you were genuinely going crazy, don’t the voices in crazy people’s heads tell them to go and kill people, shit like that? Tell them that the government is run by lizards, and that they’re Jesus come to, to, I dunno, stick forks in their asses? Well I’m not saying any of those things!”

Ease off, for God’s sake. Don’t start attacking her again.

“Look. All
I’m
asking you to do is listen to me. That’s it. That’s it. You know what, absolute worst case, you’ve gone nuts and you have a voice in your head. But it’s not a non-stop voice, look, I can be quiet if you want, listen.“ Charlie stopped talking for a good thirty seconds. “See? And I’m not nagging at you to do bad things. So it’s not that
bad
of a bad thing, worst case. And best case…I’m telling the truth, and you and I can figure this out together. Okay? So just, you know, chill out for a moment, take a nice deep breath, and let’s talk.”

He took a few himself, trying to keep a grip—it was hard enough trying to do so for himself, let alone having to try and do it for two—and waited for her response. He closed his eyes, as at least that way he could pretend that the dark all around him was just from the closing of his own eyes, that he could bring the light back any time he wanted. It eventually came, so quiet that he could barely hear it even inside her head.

“Sorry?” he said gently, suddenly hopeful. “What did you say? I didn’t catch that sweetheart, I—“ He jumped back as the screen blazed into life, her eyes opening as her head came up. He didn’t have time to revel in the sudden return of the light.

“
Don’t
fucking call me sweetheart,” she snapped, her voice immediately strong. “I’m not your sweetheart, and I have a name. It’s Minnie. I told you. Okay?”

Jesus,
thought Charlie, kicking himself. He’d meant it as a term of endearment, trying to get her onside, and hadn’t meant to patronise or insult. However, it seemed to have given her more of a kick up the arse than anything else he’d said so far, shunting her frightened mind back online.

“Okay, okay, fair point, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, taking it back. “I just didn’t catch what you said, that’s all I meant.” She hesitated to respond, however, making a small noise in her throat that Charlie couldn’t discern. Was she mollified by his apology or…embarrassed? Whatever it was, the sudden fire in her seemed to have died down as quickly as it arrived, as if she’d forgotten then remembered the situation she was in.

“I said my surname,” she said, quietly, but not frightened. She
was
embarrassed.

“Okay, sw—Minnie,” Charlie said, correcting himself. “What is it?”

There was a heavy outlet of breath, and then something surprising; laughter, if a little snuffly in its execution. The light from the screen flashed off and on across the screen as she wiped her eyes.

“I don’t like to tell people really, but I don’t know why I’m embarrassed to tell you because I’ve finally gone loony and you’re not even real,” Minnie said, laughing again and sniffing some more as she cleared the last of her tears. It was sad-sounding laughter, but there was also release in it, speaking to Charlie of an inner strength pushed beyond its emotional limits. There was another story here, Charlie knew, one that would have to wait. He decided it best to play along.

“That’s right, you’ve gone crackers and I’m the result. Talk about adding insult to injury, eh?” he offered, smiling despite himself, and was rewarded with a small bark of sniffling, nervous laughter, the view shaking back and forth as she shook her head resignedly.

“Yep, that’s right…Charlie, was it?” she said, looking up at the ceiling. “Sounds like a name I’d give to my lunacy-powered imaginary head-buddy. Jesus…” She let out a sigh that ended in a final sniff. “Okay,
Charlie
, stand by to yuck your socks off like everyone else has my entire life, then ask the questions. Ready?”

Charlie wondered what the hell she was talking about, but didn’t want to interrupt her flow.

“Yes. Ready.”

“My full name…is Minnie Cooper.”

Charlie stared at the screen, suddenly lost for words. This had to be a dream, then.

“Are you…are you ser—“

“
Yes
, I’m serious, my Dad thought it would be funny,
yes
, my brother is really called Tommy, even though he insists on being called Tom,
no
, I don’t like it,
no
, I won’t change my name as it’d really upset my Dad,
yes
, people find it funny, and
no
, I’ve never owned one. I think that’s all of them. Got any others though?” she finished, sighing and chuckling in the quiet manner of someone who doesn’t actually find anything in a sickening situation funny.

“No, I think that’s all of them,” Charlie said, sitting down and realising that they were finally having a conversation. “Well, I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but given the circumstances, I think that'd be a lie.”

“Uh-huh,” said Minnie with a sigh, the view leaning back and looking at the ceiling. “Keep talking, this really is something else. A real first, I have to say. Just...great. Fucking
great
.”

“It's for real, Minnie, I promise you. You have to take me seriously. Please.”

“Don't worry Chuck, I'm all ears. Go for your life.”

Charlie winced.

“Do me a favour, will you?” he asked, scowling slightly.

“For you? Anything. Just name it.”

Ignoring the sarcasm, Charlie responded.

“Don't call me that. It winds me up, and I'm stressed out enough as it is.”

“
You're
stressed? Ah wait, of course you are. You're stuck in my head. You just don't know what to do with yourself, you little tumour you. I always thought I'd be a sudden brain haemorrhage, but I guess I'm going the slow way. Marvellous. Perfect way to leave a legacy, ending up wandering down the high street in my knickers, make-up smeared all over my face and babbling to invisible Chuck.” The hand came up and picked something up off a nearby coffee table, then threw it against the wall where it shattered.  Ignoring the deliberate jibe, Charlie took in the room in front of him whilst he thought of his next move. It was as shabby as the bathroom, with a threadbare carpet and faded paint on the walls. A small table with two chairs stood in the opposite corner, and a bookcase—a full to capacity bookcase—was placed in front of the eastern wall. A fairly old TV stood in the corner to their left, with a knotted rug placed in front of it. She had done her best to make it homely, though; the candles were again in abundance, and there were many small picture frames all over the walls, each one with a candid photo of people she presumably knew. They were all quite faded though, suggesting they hadn't been updated in some time.

Charlie realised he was going to get nowhere unless he convinced her that he was for real, and so he turned his attention to finding a practical method for this. Almost immediately, he thought of two. Excitedly, he spoke up.

“Facebook. Look me up on Facebook. I have an account, it'll say I live in Coventry, I'm all there. Easy.” There was silence for a moment as she pondered this.

“Nope. Won't work, Chuck,” she said, sighing and shaking her head, as Charlie gritted his teeth and tried to keep a lid on his anger. “I could have seen your name on a mutual friend's profile, or even just seen your name in the paper, anything, and my subconscious has picked you at random and given you a little voice in my head. Seeing a name on a Facebook page, what would that prove?”

“I could…I could tell you what my last few status updates were about, and then you could check them and see if I was right. How would you know that?”

“Well, apart from the fact that I couldn't look at your statuses as we're not Facebook friends, Chuck. Unless your profile is Public?”