The Follower

The Follower

Gabriel knew that someone was watching him. He was well past the prickling on the back of his neck phase. Now it was a constant awareness.

Since Lori found him — tunnels she said, but he did not remember any tunnels — something had been wrong. What happened to him that he was hospitalised, and then off work for a week because he could hardly stand up? What happened to him that was so bad he could not remember three days of his life, and some things before, too. There were blank spaces in his memories stretching back for months.

At first he tried to recall, but then wondered whether he was withholding something from himself for good reason. That was even more disturbing than mere loss of memory. Gabriel considered the problem and reasoned that, if it was so bad, suppression might be the best option. He surrendered to it.

A month later his body was almost recovered, though sometimes he felt a deep upwelling of fatigue. His mind, though, was far from normal. Never before was he afraid of the dark, but now he was compelled to buy one of those plug-in night-lights for kids because he could not sleep in complete darkness. There were happy little bunnies on it which he found comforting (and that was disturbing too).

The knowledge that he was being watched crept up on him. At first a faint paranoia, rising to a certain knowledge. On a lonely street he might hear something slithering behind him, or catch a glimpse of an odd shadow. In his own flat he had a sense of being overlooked, even when he closed the curtains and locked the door. He avoided other people, looked over his shoulder constantly, but the fact that there was no-one there did not make the feeling go away.

Shaving with a slightly shaky hand, he heard a faint intake of breath behind him and felt the light breeze of and out-breath on the back of his neck. He paused mid-stroke and stared at his own wide-open eyes in the mirror. The breathing came again, He leaned a bit to his right, but the only thing reflected in the mirror was the bathroom door. A swift turn — nothing there. Nothing there. Yet he felt warm breath tickling his wet face. There was a faint foul smell about it. Trembling even more, he turned back and finished his shave, rinsed and dried his face and left the bathroom. the breathing followed him.

He didn’t know what to do. Standing a while in front of the bookcase, he tried to think. Running his gaze across the familiar spines, he noticed an old notebook that he did not remember, maybe belonging to one of the blanked-out memories. As he reached out for it the breather seemed interested, its breath quickening, so Gabriel reached further and picked out an old copy of ‘Frankenstein’ instead.

He made coffee and sat down to pretend to read the book, using the time to think what to do. He decided to go to see Lori, whom he’d been avoiding for weeks because she might ask questions he could not answer.

Before he left he returned Frankenstein to the shelf and palmed the notebook, shoving it into the waistband of his jeans, hoping that whatever was watching him had not seen. It followed him. he could feel it closer than ever before.

Lori was just finishing her early-evening ghost tour when he caught up with her. She was surprised by the warmth of his greeting and alarmed as he leaned too close to her.

‘Can you see anything behind me?’ he whispered. ‘I’m being followed.’

‘Person, or…’

‘Or.’

She gave him a hug, then drew back with a slight shake of the head.

‘Come on,’ she said, ‘there’s someone you should meet.’

He followed past Lori’s flat and down a narrow side alley. She stopped at a nondescript black door and knocked twice.

‘Lori! And friend. Come in,’ said the tiny white-haired old woman who answered.

Gabriel felt a pressure on his shoulder, as if something was trying to hold him back. he wanted to obey the restraint, but managed to pull away and through the door. Inside, he felt lighter, a burden lifted.

‘This is Mildred,’ said Lori. ‘Mildred, meet Gabriel. He’s being followed by something nearly invisible.’

‘Nearly?’ said Gabriel.

‘I got a sort of shimmer in the air behind you.’

‘Come and sit down,’ said Mildred. ‘I’ll make tea. Don’t look so worried, dear. It can’t follow in here. We’re well defended.’

Over tea, Lori told Mildred all about the tunnels and how she’d found Gabriel with the help of the people in the dark house. Gabriel listened in astonishment.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise. I don’t remember any of it.’

‘I think they gave you something to make you forget.’

Gabriel pulled the notebook out and leafed through it. Pages and pages about the tunnels under Shuckleigh, with diagrams. All his tunnel research was there in his own handwriting, but he was reading it for the first time.

‘Well,” said Mildred. ‘I wouldn’t put it past those people to be following you, but I would say you brought something up to the surface with you. Something that wants you back.’

Gabriel fell the stirring of an awful memory. He did not want to look at it. Ever.

‘What can I do?’

‘Leave your notebook with me,’ said Mildred, ‘and stay here. I will clean your mind and put you out of its reach.’

‘Make me forget again?’

She shook her head.

‘You have some sort of attachment. I can feel it pulling on you, even here. It’s getting something from you, feeding, I think.’

Gabriel shuddered.

‘Do whatever you can. Please.’

‘It isn’t an easy process. It will hurt, and might damage you.’

‘Please,’ he said, ‘I don’t want it in my head any more.’

Two days later, Lori came back to take him home. He was hollow-eyed and pale. Stepping out through the door he took a breath, waiting to see what would happen. There was a sense of something touching him, but sliding away, unable to find any holding place.

‘Lori,’ he said, ‘I’m afraid. I never was before, but now I think I’m always going to be afraid.’

‘You get used to it,’ she said.