The Only Side

By Lee Frey

Thinking himself a permanent residence of Purgatory, Eric Decovney flows through his reality with the powers of a god. He suffers a chink in his armor when he learns that he may not be dead after all. Eric’s powers are not just limited to the other side, and he proves that as he unleashes his fury on everyone involved in the experiments that gave him his gift.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Frey
• Release date: Dec 20, 2010
• ISBN: 9781310155314

Lee Frey

In the past ten years I have written several short works, six novels and several partial manuscripts. I write because I enjoy it--a delicious retreat each morning before the darkness fades away and reality reigns supreme. Nineteen years as a telecom engineer for an international company might not add to my writing credentials, but it does mean that I am not your typical starving artist.

Book preview

BOOK THREE OF THE OTHER SIDE SERIES

A NOVEL BY

LEE FREY

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Lee Frey on Smashwords

Copyright © 2013 by Lee Frey

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

This book was written for me--dark and angry, just the way I like them...

I would like to thank my editor and friend, Cathrine Dube, once more. She not only corrected grammar and storyline defects but perhaps even saved the main character’s immortal soul.

Prologue

‘A species forms and evolves almost instantaneously (on the geological timescale) and then remains virtually unchanged until it disappears, yielding its habitat to a new species.’

(Smith, Peter J., Evolution’s Most Worrisome Questions, Review of Life Pulse by Niles Eldredge, New Scientist, 1987, p. 59)

Chapter 1

Standing in the center of the void, his eyes slowly scanned for signs of intruders, expecting none, seeing none. Beyond the pitch-blackness that was the void sat nothingness, and beyond that stood the Wall. Though too far away to be seen with the naked eye, even his special eyes, he knew it was there. He knew because he had built it.

It had taken him years to build, but time was something he had in abundance. Time was his companion--his only companion. Like the gentle breath of a child, he could hear, could feel, time ticking onward, no goal, no quest, nor plan. Time, like himself, merely existed.

The Wall was actually a series of three walls, the first built of wood. Mammoth, three-feet thick solid oak beams were planed smooth to yield a nearly airtight cocoon--a perfect sphere impenetrable to all but the most relentless attackers. Fear drove him to add an inner wall of stone, rivaling the Great Wall of China, five feet inside the first. It took another couple of years to build the innermost wall composed of five-inch thick steel that likewise stood five feet inside the inner stone wall.

In the years since their construction, he realized that the three walls were made of three of the five elements of Feng Shui. He had not planned the design, in fact, he did not even believe in Feng Shui, yet he often wondered if he had subconsciously picked the materials for a purpose. This thought gave consideration to adding a wall of fire and water in the gaps between the three walls. Though he had yet to build them, the thought was always there.

During the years that it had taken him to build the Wall, the panic had slowly faded. Initially so overpowering that rational thought had ceased to exist, fear was everywhere, lurking outside the Wall, or sometimes inside stalking him. There was even a period of time in which he knew with complete conviction that fear was inside his body waiting to devour him when he fell asleep, which he never did. Sleep, like living, was too dangerous for him to undertake.

Fear had dripped from him in a toxic sweat that burned his eyes, his nose, a rotting corpse magnified a thousand times. A perfume that stained his soul. A smell he could not run from, for even he was not faster than smell. Had he ripped his nose from his face, he would not escape the vile stench.

But that was years ago, how long he did not know. The only thing he knew with certainty was a date, March 20th, 2014, the day he died. The years since then were a blur.

Fear no longer dominated his world. In fact, it had left him completely, a debt collector with no valid telephone numbers left to call. He was incapable of feeling terror, or, perhaps, any emotion. In its place, emptiness reigned king. He enjoyed the solitude of his barren surroundings. He was content to be alone. It was satisfying and safe, at least for now.

The Wall had been built with one purpose, to keep everything out, and, therefore, had no entrance, no door, nor gate. Now that fear had crept away in defeat, there was no longer a reason for the Wall. Even so, he felt it prudent to keep it in place, but decided to make a few changes.

Gates were added at each layer, using a series of locks, requiring keys, combinations, fingerprints, retinal scans and even a blood sample. Only one way in or out, and he was the only one that could open the doors. Passages from the Bible mocked his thoughts, I am the way, the only way. No one comes in except through me, though twisted to fit his purpose. With the precautions in place, he ventured out, but never for very long.

Chapter 2

She shuddered as the heavy door swung inward, her fingertips temporarily numbed as a small portion of her life force was stripped away by the coldness within the door. This place had always represented death to her. The grim reaper was not dressed in black nor did he carry a scythe. He was dressed in white and carried a clipboard.

Scanning the room, she saw signs of Kate’s presence but the room remained empty save the lone figure in the bed. Still, she called out.

Kate? she whispered, cringing at the sound of her voice.

Silence whispered an enigmatic reply. Letting the door shut behind her, she entered the room and peeked into the bathroom verifying it was empty. Turning back to face the figure on the bed, her stomach churned at the smells. They were no different than the rest of the hospital, but seeing him forced her senses into overdrive. Even the sound of the oxygen streaming out of the hose under his nose seemed to hiss warily at her.

Rubbing her hands together, she tried to bring feeling back into the hand that had touched the door, the numbness now claiming her whole hand and reaching up past the wrist. She knew that she should leave. She should not be here at all, let alone by herself, but she could not turn away.

He did not look much different than he had the last time she had seen him, except for the electrodes on his scalp, the wires disappearing over the pillow. Between the wires, red circles outlined the spots where electrodes had once been. A survivor from a giant squid attack perhaps, the red lesions all that remained of the suction cup grasp, the smooth scar on his brow the result of a vicious beak.

With his head shaved bald, he was not the same person Kate had married. He was pale with the sunken cheeks of the living dead. She knew without seeing them that his ice blue eyes would not be clear. Glossy, scattered with cataracts, horrible eyes lay beneath their peaceful lids. Too many storylines from third rate writers told her what lay beneath.

The last time she had seen him before her visit to the hospital six months ago, he had been covered in blood hanging by one leg from the railing in her apartment building like a butchered hog bleeding out from its slit throat. Had one more bone snapped, or had he bounced slightly higher off a railing, or rotated faster as he cart wheeled into oblivion, he would not be here. He would have hit the ground ten stories below and died mercifully.

Guilt haunted her for how she felt, but she could not help it. The living had to go on living. The dead should remain dead.

Why can’t you just let go? she whispered, moving to the edge of the bed staring down at him.

You’re killing her. Piece by piece, she’s dying. If you love her, you have to let her go, she said louder as tears welled in her eyes.

She had wished him dead time and time again. His death would haunt her forever if he died, but she did not care. Her sister was more important to her than anything, even her own life.

A few months ago, a dream had terrified her more than anything before, even more than the night Eric had fallen. She dreamed that she had pulled the plug on Eric and watched him die. Watched as his breathing slowed, as the alarms monitoring his pulse pierced the night, as the last breath rattled loose from his chest. She woke up screaming, ripping the sheets from the bed as she tried to run away from herself. She ended up with a comforter wrapped around her hugging the commode for the remainder of the night.

The alarming part was that she could do it--she could kill him, to free her sister, she could do it. When she woke that night, she was not sure if it had been a nightmare or a portent of what were yet to come. She could not even bring herself to call the hospital to make sure he was still alive until late the next evening.

She glanced up at the equipment looking for the off button, yet knowing it was not there. Eric was not on life support, per se. A bag of fluids fed him through the needle in his arm and another hanging below the bed collected his waste. The rest of the equipment was only monitoring his heartbeat and a newly installed device was recording his brain waves. There was no button to push, no plug to pull, that would end their suffering.

A single tear rolled down her cheek as she glanced back down at his face. Any day, any second he could open his eyes and speak. There was no medical reason for the coma, the head trauma had caused internal hemorrhaging resulting in numerous surgeries, but only superficial scars remained from the initial damage.

One leg had been so badly damaged that the doctors were not sure if he would ever walk again and suspected that if he did, he would be forced to carry a cane for the rest of his life. Kate did not care if she had to carry him on her back for the rest of her life as long as he lived.

She leaned over the rail and whispered into his ear, gagging at the smell, the closeness to death, It’s been six months. The doctors say you’re fine. So either open your eyes or die, damn it! the whisper turning into a harsh screech.

She paused inches from his face waiting for a response. She blinked away visions of him lying in a casket as Kate sobbed in the background.

Then death it shall be, she said to herself as another tear rolled down her cheek and fell onto his.

She often wondered if she could really do it. Without a plug to pull or a machine to turn off, she would have to smother him with a pillow or something. It had to appear to be a natural death, for having Kate even suspect that she had anything to do with it would be a fate worse than death. There were times in her life when Kate was all that kept her going. No one believed in her except Kate.

She quickly wiped away the traces of the tears that had fallen as she heard the door latch click. Turning to face the door, she let a smile spread across her face as Kate entered.

What are you doing here? Kate asked as Teresa moved to hug her.

Releasing her from the hug, Teresa answered, Haven’t seen you in a while and thought I’d see how you are doing, brushing her sister’s hair away from her face.

You could have called. You didn’t have to come, she said cautiously.

Seeing is believing. Besides, you would’ve just lied to me over the phone. In person, I can tell.

What’s wrong? Kate asked.

I’m fine. You, however, have not been getting enough sleep.

I get enough, she said holding her sister’s hands and glancing from eye to eye as though one might falter and give up its secret.

What’s really wrong? You didn’t come down here just to see me.

Did too.

I know how much you hate hospitals.

Well, no one really likes them. I mean with all the sick people and all, she shrugged.

You swore you would never come back.

That was years ago, Teresa shrugged.

Twelve to be exact. After Gramps died, you said, and I quote, ‘I’ll never set foot in a hospital again.’

So I don’t keep promises. I’ve been in a hospital before.

Yea, this makes twice.

I’ve been bunches of times.

Once, a week after it happened, and now today. That makes twice.

Ok, so I don’t like hospitals. Can’t stop me from seeing my sister though.

I guess, Kate sighed, Well, then pull up a chair.

Want to grab a bite to eat or something? Teresa asked, not wanting to be in the hospital and especially not confined to a room with the dead.

I just ate. That’s why I was gone for so long. How long did you have to wait? Kate asked, sliding a chair out for Teresa to sit. The lie burned in her throat, but Teresa didn’t catch it.

Reluctantly, Teresa sat and faced her, avoiding Eric as much as possible, Not long.

How have you been? I guess it’s been a while since we talked.

At least a week. You haven’t been home in almost two.

It hasn’t been that long.

Has too. Want to come measure the size of the dust bunnies hopping around on your bedspread?

I guess I have been a little busy.

With the teacher’s aide gig? That wasn’t supposed to be adding to your day, just a little busy work to keep you sane, Teresa said sternly, wishing she hadn’t forced her to take the job if it were going to cause her more stress.

No, I enjoy it. It helps get my mind off things around here. I also do a little candy striping. I help out where I can. Then there’s all this reading I do, motioning to the pile of books in the corner.

Teresa got up and scanned the titles, I don’t see a single best seller in the bunch.

No, it’s mostly stuff about comas. Technical books.

Teresa frowned at a few titles concerning the occult and supernatural, but did not press her. They already had that argument.

I guess with all this, you don’t have time for your little sister, she replied with her back still to Kate, twisting the knife. She knew that it was wrong, but she could not help herself. She had been jealous of Eric from day one and now, even in death, he stood between them.

Kate got up and wrapped her arms around her sister, placing her cheek against her shoulder, I’ll make time. I promise.

It felt good to hold her sister; physical contact of any type brought tears to Kate’s eyes. She missed everything about Eric, but most of all, just holding him, having him hold her. Watching TV with her legs propped on his, his hand caressing her knee. A peck on the cheek, or even the implied touch as he blew her a kiss.

Teresa turned and held her sister, devouring the contact as well. She had boyfriends, lovers, and friends--none of which made her feel as good as holding her sister’s hand.

Rejuvenated by the embrace, they smiled as they sat back down.

So how’s work? Kate asked.

Busy as usual.

Found any knew J.K. Rowlings waiting to be discovered?

No, but I found a few mid-listers.

Brandy must be getting sloppy in her old age.

I think she lets a few by just to test me, Teresa smiled. Besides Kate, Brandy, her boss, was the only other person she trusted completely. Brandy, like Kate, believed in her and that meant the world to her.

They talked for another hour before Teresa left, feigning hunger, but in truth, she just had to get away from the place. Kate promised that she would be home later, but Teresa did not count on it. As she was heading to bed later that night, she turned on the lamp beside Kate’s bed, just in case.

Chapter 3

Soft purrs of breathing defied the rhythmic cadence of the machines that danced to their own beat. As Kate slept peacefully, one machine began its own march, the fanfare, cymbal crashes, and trumpet blast confined to jagged lines drawn with a whisper. The drum major twirled his staff and the band drifted away as fast as it had arrived, the display lasting less than a minute.

Chapter 4

He had another episode last night, the lab technician said as he strolled in the door and handed several sheets of paper over the desk.

Xavier scanned the squiggly lines and looked up to Clayton for an explanation, What am I looking at exactly?

These are the brain waves of our coma patient, he said as he handed over a second set of papers, knowing that Xavier would need visuals to help him understand, This is a normal person’s brain activity.

Xavier laid them side by side and scanned them. They looked similar, What’s so special about our boy?

The second one I gave you is from a person who is wide awake watching an action movie. You know, lots of explosions, car chases, stuff like that.

Are you saying he’s awake, Xavier asked practically bolting from the chair.

No, he’s definitely still in a coma. We had someone go by this morning and check on him.

Cautiously, Xavier sat back down, Then what does this mean?

First, I want to point out that though these two printouts are similar, there are many significant differences. First off, the coma patient’s... Clayton was explaining when Xavier interrupted.

His name is Eric.

Clearing his throat, Clayton continued, Eric’s brain waves are excited in every region of the brain, pointing to the second graph. The subject watching the movie still has no activity in these regions.

Anything special about that?

Eric was simultaneously accessing parts of his brain reserved for creativity, pain, and a few others that you normally don’t see mixed in with all these. Generally different regions are lit up by different stimuli. Something was stimulating his entire brain.

Ever seen anything like this before?

Never, he said handing over a third set of papers.

Glancing at the relatively flat lines with a few areas of slight movement, Xavier ventured a guess, A normal sleeping adult?

A normal sleeping adult, he paused for effect, having a dream. These are called delta waves. See the difference in frequency, how far apart the small peaks are, between this one and Eric’s.

So this guy was dreaming, and this is all the brain activity there was?

Yes.

So Eric has the brain activity of a fully awake person yet he’s in a coma?

Not exactly. If you look closely, you will see that the peaks are much higher in Eric’s. Orders of magnitude in fact.

So he’s twice as active?

Order of magnitude. That means adding zeros--multiplying times ten. I’m saying that if a normal person can run ten miles an hour, then Eric can run a thousand, maybe ten-thousand miles an hour.

Is this any different than his last reading? Xavier asked.

Only in magnitude. I thought the equipment was acting up or the electrodes had been moved the first time. No one has this much activity over the entire brain.

Not even Donald? Xavier asked.

Not even him.

* * *

All that she had worked for was gone--stolen from her by people she trusted. Her work was to have been a gift for the whole world, a new beginning. It would save the human race from its downward spiral. She once held that hope in her hands and now she had nothing.

She was locked up like an animal, no better off than the lab rats. The apartment was joke. Sure, she had wonderful meals brought in from the most expensive restaurants in town. She had a sixty-inch TV with cable and pay per view, a DVD player, and a 7.1 digital surround sound system. Leather this and silk that. Men brought to her to fulfill her every wish. She could have everything she wanted, everything except freedom.

She should have been crushed--distraught that the gift was stolen, sad for the people. Yet, the only emotion she felt was rage. She had never understood what Jacob had done until now. How could he have destroyed everything that he had sought? Killed all those people, innocent people? Now, however, she understood. It would be better that all her work be lost than for the wrong people to hold her secrets.

It all started because she, Dr. Allison Hampton or Dr. Donnelson--she answered to both--needed funding. Being officially dead prevented her access to her own money, which was significant, yet not nearly enough for her plans. Therefore, she had no choice but to team up with other doctors, other companies. They had the capital and she needed it. Even when the government bought its way in, she did not see the danger signs. Klaxon horns should have been blaring in her head, but she never saw it coming.

The only thing left for her now were the three wishes that she was intent on granting herself. First, she would destroy the project as Jacob had failed to do. Conveniently, the government had installed a system to do just that. Unlike Jacob’s plan, this self-destruct mechanism used some type of gas to kill, leaving behind the equipment, data, everything needed to recreate the experiment. She still had not figured out how to destroy the equipment, but she would.

She also had not figured out how to escape. A chance patrol had stopped her last attempt resulting in a second lock on her door. They also monitored her every move, especially while she slept. Standing instructions required that she be awakened if anyone, be it cleaning crew or military brass, were acting strangely or asking for something unusual.

They knew her limitations--she could only take control over one person at a time, and only while they slept and were on the Other Side. She also could not control them forever. Eventually, she would tire and have to return to her own body. She had no idea how long she could remain in someone’s body, but she was getting stronger every day.

She had entered the body of an off-duty guard and shot the guard on duty. She had managed to open the door and was about to leave his body and rush back to her own when another guard on patrol stopped in to chat. He had no choice but to shoot the guard she was possessing, as she had raised the gun to fire on him, because he did not know about her special gift.

Now, everyone knew what she was capable of, and no one felt safe while she slept, no matter how far away they lived. She was warned that any further attempts to escape or unnatural death of anyone involved in the project would result in her immediate termination. She did not mind that. That was actually her third wish.

The second was for Moncroft to die in his sleep. She was now convinced that there was an afterlife, and that Hell was waiting for him. Unfortunately, she was sure it was waiting for her as well. Therefore, her last wish was to die while her soul remained in her body. She wanted her soul to die as well. Given the choice of eternal damnation or eternal death, death was reassuring.

She was alive solely because her death would be a loss for the project. She had a gift that only one other person had mastered. She had been his mentor and taught him how to do it, though she did not know herself. Somehow, she was able to pass on her power by showing him or communicating with him on the Other Side. Though she remembered everything that happened on the Other Side, she did not understand how the gift was passed on. That was the key goal for the project. Especially since their teacher had now revolted.

There were over forty people in the project headquartered in New York, forty volunteers, forty subjects, forty lab rats. Of those forty, thirty-four had differing levels of extrasensory powers. Some were good at transmitting images and some were good at receiving them. A few could move objects with their minds. All could remember everything they dreamed, and most could control their dreams.

Only three were able to come back over as a spectral being, none including Dr. Hampton had enough power to move objects while in this form. Of those three, one man possessed the power to enter another person’s body while he or she slept. Mark Blesser, an army sergeant facing court martial and thus forced, like most, into volunteering, had this gift.

The government had realized the potential for her gift from the very beginning, when Dr. Hampton had first demonstrated her power. The fact that she had failed to kill Eric did not matter. She was able to seize his body and make him seemingly commit suicide. This was a gift they needed--a gift that could cure so many problems in the war torn areas around the world. The CIA was banned from participating in the assassination of foreign leaders. However, if a foreign leader committed suicide, or were killed by his own men, then how could anyone blame the US?

Refusing to help them kill people, they hounded her night and day. People with the gift were assigned shifts around the clock to wait for her on the Other Side. Some were able to keep up with her, but she was able to lose most of them