The Physics Of The Dead - A Supernatural Mystery Novel by Luke Smitherd

can hope for! New things. That is the very best we can ever hope for, and you need to know that.” He was back in the room now, attention focused on Bowler, back to being the usual realist he was, but no less animated. “Because unless you want to end up like The Beast-or like your best buddy Mark-then you need to just ACCEPT that, and stop thinking like Mary Poppins !”
    Hart snapped out this last part, and they stood there in silence, breathing heavily and staring into each other’s eyes. It was Bowler's move, this slightly newer Bowler that didn't back down so easily, and Hart found he didn't want him to. There was something raw here, and it was like heroin. It was dangerous, but Hart wanted it. And if he'd have been aware enough to notice, he'd have felt his left hand shaking gently.
    But Bowler's next action surprised Hart very much indeed. He began to smile. And it wasn't a smile Hart had ever seen on his friend's face before. It was a cruel smile. And Hart suddenly realised that-somehow, he didn't know in what manner yet-Bowler now had him.
    “Well, Hart,” he said, actually taking a small step backwards, and folding his arms, talking with a slow confidence that was also totally new. “You've not really answered my questions, and what you're saying isn't making too much sense. You see...we can't influence change? But what was it you said to me? ' I never thought that it'd work ,' or that it hadn't ' been tried before ?' Or that I'm ' the luckiest Checkin there's ever been? ' Who was it that made those things happen Hart? Who made that change? You...or at least, the man you were a year ago.” The smile widened, turned into a grin. “But then, that's how people sometimes change, isn't it? Nothing for years, and then all at once...you just change. Things build up, then they fall over, all at once. And you end up different. You end up afraid.”
    Hart said nothing, but had gone slightly white. Silent from confusion and surprise, and from what Bowler was saying. Who was this before him? Where was Bowler?
    “Or maybe it was me. Maybe I made you lazy. Maybe it was the other way round; fear was motivating you, and then you got me. And then you got lazy, and then you got scared. I don't know. But anyway; here's another question for you.” He unfolded his arms, and pointed a finger upwards. The grin was now a smirk, and it looked no better on Bowler than it did on Hart. “If the Flyers, as you say, are going on to another frequency-another Foyer, if you like, the next one across, as you've said-why do they go up? The Foyers wouldn't be on different…I dunno ...planes, is that the word? We know that, as THIS one is on earth. It's in Coventry, for God's sake. So there's not going to be another Foyer in space, it's not going to be above THIS Foyer, is it?  It'd be next door, wouldn't it? Especially if you're planning on hopping from one to another.”
    He stepped in close to Hart again, closer than before, whilst Hart just stayed silent, lips tight and white. Bowler spoke gently now, and slowly. He was feeling it too. That rush. Bowler had never had it in here before, in fact had always avoided confrontation, and this was his first taste of what it felt like in a world without communication, without true excitement, without common change. He revelled in it, and it took him away much faster than it did Hart. “So why do they go up, hmm ? They'd just go across, wouldn't you say? But they don't. They go up .” He punctuated this last point with a mocking finger point to the sky, then didn't didn't move for a few seconds. Neither did Hart.
     Bowler slowly raised his arms into an exaggerated shrug.
    “Let's say I do believe in fairies, Hart. Fine. So…you tell me. Why do they go up ?”
    Hart whispered something.
    “Didn't catch that, Hart. What?”
    “I said 'fuck you,' ” repeated Hart through gritted teeth, now glaring at Bowler through eyes that were moist.
    Bowler blinked-he had never heard Hart say the F word,