Read Online Resonance by Chris Dolley - Free Book Online
Authors: Chris Dolley
Tags: Science-Fiction
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out in front like some kinda freaky Canadian lobster guy and he wants to know how I can possibly have two hundred spirit guides all with the same name. How can I tell them apart?"
Annalise rolled her eyes. "'We have a code,' I said. 'I'm Annalise One. Then there's Annalise Two. Get the drift? We've all got numbers. And those that fight over the same number agree on a letter—eventually—so there's Annalise 9a and 9b.'"
Annalise stopped and looked round. "Where did I put my coffee?"
Graham pointed at the cup on the coffee table behind her. She leaned back, reached out and scooped it up in one flowing motion. Graham held his breath as the full coffee cup teetered precariously over his clean carpet.
"So, this guy—still excited, still pointing those enormous hands at me—asks if I do private consultations. He'd pay, money no problem. He needs to contact some friends on the other side. 'No problemo,' says I, 'but I'll need a hundred up front. Some of these dead guys don't like to be found.'"
Annalise took a sip of coffee and gradually brought the cup into the conversation. Graham watched the liquid lap from side to side.
"'Not a problem', he says and hands me two fifty-dollar bills, just like that. Then he says how important it is that his friend gets his message word for word. 'Verbatim,' he says, 'exactly as I dictate or it's no good.'" She rolled her eyes. "These scientist guys. Anyway, I agreed and then he says something really spooky. 'Tell your spirit Annalise that she has to speak to my friend in person—no phones, no faxes, no emails.'"
"They have faxes on the astral plane?"
"Believe me, they have everything on the astral plane. Just 'cause you're dead don't mean you can't live."
She paused and took another sip.
"As I see it, they're dead, but they don't know it. So they go around doing everything they did before. They live in houses, they drive cars, they shop, they make out. Makes sense to me."
It suddenly made sense to Graham too. An epiphany. He'd never understood why people who came back from the dead never talked about their experiences. He'd put it down to embarrassment, shame maybe, some social taboo that said you don't talk about death or unravelment. But maybe they just didn't realize where they'd been.
Wouldn't that explain his father's reaction? That first time he'd come back from the dead. Graham still remembered every moment of that morning. Getting up, going downstairs, walking towards the kitchen expecting to see the tear-stained face of his mother still grieving three months after her husband's passing. But hearing laughter instead. A man's laugh. He'd slowed in the passageway, not knowing what to think. The kitchen door ajar, unable to see all the way in, he'd hovered outside for an age. And then the man spoke. It was his father! His father had come back!
He'd raced into the kitchen, thrown the door back against its hinges and jumped on his father's back. The sheer joy of finding him alive!
"Dad, it's really you!" he'd said, his voice breaking.
"Of course it's me, who'd you expect? The milkman?"
His mother had laughed. "How come I don't get a hug like that?" she'd asked.
"Because you weren't dead," he'd replied and, suddenly, all the world went very quiet.
But now, looking at that scene again, he could see it had been shock on his father's face. Not embarrassment. All those years Graham had thought he'd broken some unwritten taboo and dared to tell one of the returned that he'd been dead. But it hadn't been that at all. His father hadn't been embarrassed at his son's outburst, he'd been mystified. Because he hadn't known he'd been dead.
"Earth to Graham." Graham returned to find Annalise waving a hand in front of his face. "Where'd you go just then?"
"Sorry, I was thinking about what you said about dead people."
Annalise shrugged. "That's cool. Now where was I?"
"You had to send a message to your spirit Annalise."
"That was it. And I had to learn it by heart. I wanted to
Annalise rolled her eyes. "'We have a code,' I said. 'I'm Annalise One. Then there's Annalise Two. Get the drift? We've all got numbers. And those that fight over the same number agree on a letter—eventually—so there's Annalise 9a and 9b.'"
Annalise stopped and looked round. "Where did I put my coffee?"
Graham pointed at the cup on the coffee table behind her. She leaned back, reached out and scooped it up in one flowing motion. Graham held his breath as the full coffee cup teetered precariously over his clean carpet.
"So, this guy—still excited, still pointing those enormous hands at me—asks if I do private consultations. He'd pay, money no problem. He needs to contact some friends on the other side. 'No problemo,' says I, 'but I'll need a hundred up front. Some of these dead guys don't like to be found.'"
Annalise took a sip of coffee and gradually brought the cup into the conversation. Graham watched the liquid lap from side to side.
"'Not a problem', he says and hands me two fifty-dollar bills, just like that. Then he says how important it is that his friend gets his message word for word. 'Verbatim,' he says, 'exactly as I dictate or it's no good.'" She rolled her eyes. "These scientist guys. Anyway, I agreed and then he says something really spooky. 'Tell your spirit Annalise that she has to speak to my friend in person—no phones, no faxes, no emails.'"
"They have faxes on the astral plane?"
"Believe me, they have everything on the astral plane. Just 'cause you're dead don't mean you can't live."
She paused and took another sip.
"As I see it, they're dead, but they don't know it. So they go around doing everything they did before. They live in houses, they drive cars, they shop, they make out. Makes sense to me."
It suddenly made sense to Graham too. An epiphany. He'd never understood why people who came back from the dead never talked about their experiences. He'd put it down to embarrassment, shame maybe, some social taboo that said you don't talk about death or unravelment. But maybe they just didn't realize where they'd been.
Wouldn't that explain his father's reaction? That first time he'd come back from the dead. Graham still remembered every moment of that morning. Getting up, going downstairs, walking towards the kitchen expecting to see the tear-stained face of his mother still grieving three months after her husband's passing. But hearing laughter instead. A man's laugh. He'd slowed in the passageway, not knowing what to think. The kitchen door ajar, unable to see all the way in, he'd hovered outside for an age. And then the man spoke. It was his father! His father had come back!
He'd raced into the kitchen, thrown the door back against its hinges and jumped on his father's back. The sheer joy of finding him alive!
"Dad, it's really you!" he'd said, his voice breaking.
"Of course it's me, who'd you expect? The milkman?"
His mother had laughed. "How come I don't get a hug like that?" she'd asked.
"Because you weren't dead," he'd replied and, suddenly, all the world went very quiet.
But now, looking at that scene again, he could see it had been shock on his father's face. Not embarrassment. All those years Graham had thought he'd broken some unwritten taboo and dared to tell one of the returned that he'd been dead. But it hadn't been that at all. His father hadn't been embarrassed at his son's outburst, he'd been mystified. Because he hadn't known he'd been dead.
"Earth to Graham." Graham returned to find Annalise waving a hand in front of his face. "Where'd you go just then?"
"Sorry, I was thinking about what you said about dead people."
Annalise shrugged. "That's cool. Now where was I?"
"You had to send a message to your spirit Annalise."
"That was it. And I had to learn it by heart. I wanted to
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