“This is a new experience for me.” He sinks back onto the floor again and wipes a hand across his face. “I’m not used to people reacting to me like this, not recently.”
The last few hours shifted everything in my world and I’m lost in a craziness I don’t think will change soon. If I stay in this room and share the desire I see in Alek’s eyes, I suspect my dignity will be the next thing I lose. I can’t cope with anything else, not now. Without another word to Alek, I leave the room.
Chapter 12
The first place I have to visit at work the next morning is the morgue to drop some files off. This means I’ll see my new friend Tom Jones. I groan inwardly, but maybe he’s the most sensible of them all.
“Hello, Miss Rose,” he grins through a mouthful of chocolate.
I shove the trolley full of files toward him. I’m on a tight schedule, but he might be able to help. “You can see ghosts, is that right?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Are you trying to be funny?”
“Are you really a psychic? Can you see ghosts?”
“I can see people doing weird stuff. Things I don’t think they should be.” He taps the side of his nose, and I decide my recent conversations with Alek have addled my brain. Standing in the relative normality of my workplace, the events of last night seem less real; today is what’s real. Normal. Although, I’m unsure Tom fits into the ‘normal’ category.
“What do they do?” I ask.
He sinks back in his chair. “I can tell you all about what’s happening, if you like. Just not here.”
“Where then?”
“I like beer.” He grins broadly, showing me chocolate-covered teeth.
“Fine. I have a lunch break around one o’clock. How about you?”
“Luckily enough, that’s my lunch break, too!” He sounds too delighted to me.
“Can you meet me at the Kings Arms around one then?”
“It’s a date!”
“Um. No, it’s not.”
***
The pub is almost empty, apart from other hospital staff taking time out. I position myself in a dark corner, as far from the door and bar as I can, to wait with a glass of Coke and a pint of beer on the table in front of me.
On time, almost to the second, Tom arrives. I’ve only seen him sitting, so his tall and skinny frame is a surprise. He reminds me of a giraffe with his red hair and long face. Certainly there’s no resemblance between him and his singing-star namesake; I can’t see women wanting to throw their underwear at him. Tom waves and approaches the bar. I point to his pint but he waves a hand at me. When Tom comes to the table and sits on the leather stool opposite me, he has a packet of crisps in his hand. I suspect his diet is why he looks as pasty in here as he does in the depths of the hospital.
The packet crinkles as he rips it open, unashamedly stuffing crisps in his mouth. “Working down there makes me hungry,” he says through a mouthful.
“All that sitting on your backside must be tiring.”
He frowns at me. “The ghosts and the other... people, they suck the energy out of the air around them.”
A shudder trips down my spine. Alek. Me. “So, you’ve seen ghosts?”
He ignores me. “Did you know there were other people like you working in the hospital?” he whispers.
“Like me?”
Licking salt from his fingers, he studies me. “Have they found you yet? Are you working for them?”
“What are you talking about?”
Tom leans over and pulls a notepad out of his rucksack. He flicks through it and comes to a list of names. I crane my head. “Why have you got my name in your book?”
“Your story was in the news; the girl who died for half an hour, and then came back to life. Nobody can die for half an hour and then live. You were all over the internet.”
“Because of the sex tape?”
His eyes widen. “What?”
“I’m joking, Tom! Why the hell am I on the internet?”
Tom sits up straight and smiles proudly. “I’m a paranormal investigator; there’s a few of us. We monitor the internet for reports needing to be investigated, and then gather information to share. That’s how I found you.”
Great, he’s a looney tune.
“Are you stalking me?” I ask him slowly. “Because I’ll go to the police.”
He ignores me. “Do you know any others?”
“Any other what?”
“People who should be dead.”
I wait for an amused smile but Tom’s serious. What’s worse is every word he says backs up what Alek said.
“Do you know Alek?” I ask.
“He’s one of you.”
“And what am I?”
“I’m not sure. But others like you are in the hospital. They…get rid of ghosts.”
“Oh, cool. I’m a ghostbuster...” I say, voice laden with sarcasm.
He slurps his pint, and then wipes the foam from his lips with the back of his hand. “People like you need energy. Not sugar and crap, but energy from people or ghosts. The ones like you at the hospital come into the morgue…to feed.”
He should have a low voice, be leaning forward and whispering secretly. But he’s practically announcing this to the world around him, and I’m relieved we sat where we did.
“I eat food,” I retort.
“Do you eat much?”