Easy Rider

Part the Seventh

A Deeper Mystery
Charlie's pulse was racing as he started at Mark's last message glowing in the fading light in his flat. 'Are you Ok?' such a simple question. And yet a question that he had no answer to. A quick mental recce told him that he wasn't 'OK'. He wasn't sure that he had been 'OK' for the last couple of hours. He was in a turmoil of uncertainty. He had seen Kim. He had spoken to Kim. He had had a drink with Kim. Hadn't he? It all felt so real. But now? Now it felt as if reality as he knew it no longer existed, it had begun folding in upon itself. Proof. He needed proof. He went back to his browser search and tried to think of something, anything, that might possibly confirm what he thought he had experienced. He entered 'Kim Sullivan artist alive'. Nothing. He tried 'Kim Sullivan sightings'. Nothing. After several more attempts it was as if Kim had not returned at all. Now Charlie was full of frustration. His thought was that if Kim had been back long enough to randomly bump into him surely someone else must have seen him. Unless. Unless Kim had not comer back at all. Frustration turned to unease. What if this was something else? What if... No, he couldn't go there. Scratch those thoughts.

Then Charlie's mind began to apply a little logic. If Kim had really died there would be some official record, a death certificate - something official. He searched for and found a government records website. A few minutes searching was all that he needed to find what he was looking for.
Kim Sullivan
Date of Death: August 14, 2012
He inhaled deeply. The date. He knew that date. He knew it because that was the same month, and the same week that he remembered hearing the news all those years ago. This wasn't just some vague rumour. This was official. Kim was dead. There it was definitively. And yet. He had spoken to him. His hand froze over the keyboard. There had to be an explanation. Had Kim somehow managed to fake official records to make his stunt more convincing? He admitted to himself that that seemed a little extreme - even for Kim. Then, there was the message from Mark
'We went to his memorial. You were there.'
His stomach twisted. Had he rally been at Kim's memorial? Why couldn't he remember it? He remembered hearing the news. He remembered feeling sad.. Beyond that. Nothing. His mind was reeling. He closed his eyes willing the memories to return - to come back. Then. A flicker. `the flash of s dimly lit room. Candles. A framed photo on a table. A murmured speech. He had been there. So, how the hell had he spoken to Kim not much more than a couple of hours ago?

A son noise echoed through the flat. Charlie held his breath. The sound had come from the hallway. He turned slowly. His heart thumping. The flat was silent now. But the feeling in the air had shifted. He wasn't alone. He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor, the noise upsetting the quiet of the flat. The hallway stretched into darkness beyond the faint glow of his desk lamp. He swallowed trying to control a creeping sense of dread.
'Kim?' he whispered almost before he should stop himself.
The silence felt wrong. Heavy. It seemed that the walls themselves were holding their breath. Then. From somewhere in the dark. A soft chuckle. Low, Familiar. Kim's voice. Charlie's blood ran cold.

Authors Note
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