Mike Shevdon - The Road to Bedlam

I walked slowly across to the park and sat on one of the vacant benches as the twilight slipped into nighttime. Carefully and slowly I drew a stronger and stronger concealment around me. Gradually the temperature in the park fell. The lovers cuddled together while the teenage girls zipped up fleeces and said they were cold. The gang coalesced, leaving the swings oscillating wildly, and called to the couple to follow. They lingered a moment more, pressed to each other, and then moved off, the girl wrapped in under the boy's arm, soft murmurings between them.

I needed to talk to Kayleigh. She was the only living witness to Alex's accident, and I needed to know what happened. I could call at the door, but then it would be Kayleigh and her parents. Although I knew her parents, we were acquaintances rather than friends. They had probably been told to look out for me.

This was a conversation I needed to have with Kayleigh alone. I was making some wild guesses and I needed to know whether they were correct.

I let the night gather around me and watched the dog lady return down the road. The dog kept looking nervously towards the park, though to my relief it did not howl. When it was fully dark I walked back across the park to where a van was parked against the kerb. It said 'No Tools Left Overnight' on the back and the windows were silvered to prevent anyone from seeing inside. The mirrored glass was what I needed.

Focusing, I placed my hand upon the glass. This would be more complicated than I had attempted before. To make it easier, I tried to break it into stages. The concealment was first, then came the glamour.

I knew my daughter well. I had held her as a babe and carried her on my shoulders. I had comforted her while she cried and hugged her when she laughed. I had never looked like her before, though, and it felt very strange. The difference in size was difficult. It took more power to change size as well as shape, but for this it would be necessary. I needed to be convincing.

I felt my body shifting around me, more than an image, less than a shape. I held the image of my girl in my head until her hair tickled about my neck and my frame felt lithe and light. I opened my eyes and stared at the reflection of my lost daughter.

I reached out with my fingertips to touch the reflection. It blurred and when I blinked my eyes clear I was looking at my own face again. Damn, this was difficult. It ought to be easy. There was no one in the world I knew better. I knew every curl, every inch of her, yet every time I tried to build her image it slipped from me. I could hold it for a second, but then it would unravel. It was as if I could not accept so profound a change.

All I really needed was her voice. Perhaps that would be easier.

"Hello?" It sounded odd, hearing it from inside myself when I had only ever heard it from her.

I tried again.

"Can you hear me?" This time it sounded like her, though not like her. Voices sound different when it's you that's speaking.

I looked into my face reflected in the glass and heard my words echoed in her voice. "My poor lost girl. I will find you. Trust me."

I looked around, checking again that there was no one nearby. I put my hand on the mirrored van window and whispered into the glass.

"Kayleigh?"

The glass clouded under my hand and cooled. The sound of a radio emerged, with the gentle scraping and shuffling of writing. I listened for a few moments, and could hear no other presence.

"Kayleigh, can you hear me?"

There was a sudden sharp breath, the sound of a glass being knocked over, liquid spilling out, a chair scraped back.

"Who is it? Who's there?"

I waited a moment. It wouldn't help me to scare her witless.

"Kayleigh, it's me. Are you alone?"

"Alex…? Is that you? Alex, you're dead."

"I'm not dead. I need you to do something for me. Are you alone?"

"Who is this? This isn't funny."

I had to take a gamble. I had to convince her. The last thing I wanted was her tearing down the stairs, shouting that her room was haunted. I had a hunch that Kayleigh knew more than she had told anyone. Alex had shared everything with Kayleigh. If anyone knew the truth it would be her. It was just a matter of teasing it out of her.

"You have to trust me. You know my special secret – it's about that. You remember, don't you?" It was like dangling a line, waiting for a bite.

There was a pause. "I promised. You made me promise I wouldn't say anything. I haven't told anyone."

So there was a secret. I was right.

"I know. I trust you. But I need you to do something."

A voice came from downstairs. "Kayleigh? Who are you talking to? Is that the phone?"

There was a scuffling sound.

"It's OK. It's the radio."

"It sounded like you were talking to someone." There was concern in the tone.

"It's OK. I'm fine, really."

"Are you coming down?"

"In a bit. I'll come down in a while."

"OK. Have you finished your homework?"

"Not yet. I'm nearly done. I won't be long."

"Don't work too late, honey."

"I won't."

I heard the door slide gently closed.

"Alex?"

"I'm here."

"Where are you? Everyone says you're dead."

"I know. It's hard to explain. I need you to trust me. My dad's waiting down in the park at the end of your road. I need you to explain what happened at school to him."

"Why can't you tell him?"

"I don't have much time. He's trying to help me. Can you do it?"

"You made me promise."

"I know, but he needs your help so he can help me. I don't have much time," I repeated.

"I'm not allowed out this late."

"I don't know how long he can stay."

"OK, OK. I'll try. Tell him to wait."

"Kayleigh?"

"Yes?"

"I know it's been hard. You did the right thing not telling anyone. I have to go."

"Alex, where are you?"

"I have to go. Bye."

I took my hand from the glass. I felt like a complete bastard for deceiving her, but she was the only one who knew what had really happened and she had resisted all attempts to get her to tell the real story. Neither the school nor the police had been able to make her break her promise. She and Alex had been buddies since primary school and the bonds were far stronger than mere authority.

I walked back across to the park and sat on the bench, allowing my voice to fall back to how it sounded naturally, then letting my glamour fall away completely, becoming Niall Petersen, Alex's dad. Having not worn that shape for months it felt strange. Blackbird was right, using glamour did become a habit.

I let the concealment around me fade and waited for Kayleigh, watching cars drive by and occasional pedestrians pass. I was beginning to think she had either been caught by her parents or chickened out, when I saw her small figure cross the road.

She hurried across the park, wrapping her cardigan tight around her.

"Mr Petersen?"

"It's me. Is that you, Kayleigh?"

She hurried across to where the bench seat was, but then stopped short.

"I'm supposed to tell the police if I see you," she told me.

"You must do what you think best, Kayleigh."

"Are you really a terrorist?"

"Me? No, of course not. Whatever made you think that?"

"They said you got involved with some bad people last year. They said you might be being forced to co-operate with them. They wanted to know if I saw you, so they could help you."

"Do I look like I need help?"

"You went missing, after the memorial service. Is Alex alive?" The change in subject was abrupt.

"Yes. I think she is."

"She… she spoke to me. A moment ago in my bedroom. She was in my mirror."

"That wasn't her, Kayleigh. That was me."

"You? But…"

"I know. It's difficult to explain and I can't tell you too much without dragging you into it. You know how serious this all is, don't you? If you tell them, they may want to know what else you know. They will want to know why you didn't tell them before. You're a bright girl, Kayleigh. I've always thought that. You work it out."