In Laymon's Terms

Simon Clark

1. YOUR PLACE. RIGHT ABOUT NOW. WHISPERS IN YOUR EAR.

Some people lose it as young as thirteen. Most lose it around fifteen, sixteen. Ham Masen was a late developer. He lost his visibility when he was eighteen.

The thing is, with Inherited Visibility Syndrome (IVS), there are no half measures. There’s no misty midway mark. Invisibility is one of those absolutes, like being pregnant. You can no more claim to being half-pregnant or a quarter-pregnant than to being partially visible.

You’re either HERE.

Or you AIN’T.

If you have IVS you could walk up to the guy reading this book and put your finger right here:

X

Right on the dirty big X. They’d never even know. In fact, you could put your hand on the page, even your filthy great manhood; they’d see through you...and I mean right through you. Come to that, I shouldn’t be surprised if someone is doing that right now. There’s a few of us around, you know. So we might be sitting next to you with our heads between your face and the book grinning up at you.

We might watch you shower.

We might watch you make love.

We might watch you do that funny thing you do when you think no one else is looking.

And sometimes, just for the hell of it, we might blow gently onto the back of your neck, so you get one of those goose-over-your-grave shivers.

Now you might be thinking (if you’re not one of us) what a great opportunity for mischief this is. You could pull your schoolteacher’s hair, pinch your boss’s nose, help yourself to cash from a bank vault, assassinate that irritating TV presenter who hogs the screen whatever the channel.

But no. With invisibility comes responsibility.

There’s a strict code of conduct.

We Invisibles don’t interfere with the lives of the Visibles.

That is, we didn’t until eighteen-year-old Ham Masen came along. Remember what I said? He was a late starter. So maybe he was making up for lost time.

Let me take you back to when I first met Ham.

2. ECHOES YARD. NIGHT. IT HAPPENED AT THE COUNTY MORGUE.

I saw him charging toward me. He was shouting, waving his arms, eyes staring. He didn’t look as if he’d seen a ghost. He looked like a dozen ghosts armed with machetes were hell-bent on juicing him.

He ran right across Echoes Yard, banging on windows of stores and yelling at the top of his voice. With it being close on midnight the only place open was Burger King. I watched customers looking round for the source of this hullabaloo, but when they saw nothing they shrugged and turned back to their burgers and fries.

The young guy making all the hoo-hah is Ham Masen. He realizes something has just gone totally weird in his life but he doesn’t know what.

“You’ve gotta help me! You’ve gotta help!” he screamed at a drunk staggering home from a bar.

The drunk looked round and couldn’t see a damn thing. Wobbling, he made a gesture like he was flicking away a bothersome fly, that’s all.

Ham Masen screeched, “You can’t see me, can you? I’m here! Look at me!”

The drunk peered round, seeing squat. Then Ham made his first mistake. He grabbed the drunk by the arm, still shouting that he needed help. The drunk was too pixilated to work out anything in a logical way. Instead he let fly at (to him) fresh air with his fists.

By chance one connected on Ham’s young, thin face. He jerked back to land in a bush, his legs kicking the air.

Time I intervened.

I ran across to where Ham sat in the bushes, shaking his head. If he’d been a cartoon character little blue birds would have been tweeting round his head.

He touched his jaw. “Ouch.”

At least the drunk’s punch had knocked the panic from him.

“Are you OK?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“He didn’t bust your jaw?”

“Don’t think so. It’s sore though...and my neck.” He swiveled his head just to check that it didn’t drop from his shoulders. “Aches like hell.” Then he looked up at me with brown eyes that were so big and so full of sadness that my heart went out to him.

His eyes glistened. “I didn’t figure it would be so tough being a ghost...” He touched his jaw again. “I didn’t know ghosts could feel pain either.”

“You’re no ghost.”

“Of course I am. No one can see me...when I look in a mirror I can’t even see me.” He shrugged then lay back in the bushes. “I’m a ghost. I’m dead. Leave me.”

“Come on, give me your hand.”

“Leave me here to rot.” He frowned. “Maybe ghosts rot after all. I mean if I can feel pain—”

“Listen, give me your hand. I’ll help you.”

He gave me a funny look as if deciding whether or not I was teasing him. Then he held out his hand to be helped to his feet.

“I’m Kate Shayler.”

The help-up became a handshake.

“Ham Masen.”

“Ham?”

“Yeah, at school kids called me Bacon. My parents named me after my uncle so they’d inherit stuff when he died.”

“But Ham?”

“Ham Claytz...you know, Claytz Plates?”

“So they got the money.”

“And I the name.”

Now I know why he owned those big, sorrowful eyes that made him look like a saint.

He brushed leaves from his shirt and jeans. “And just when I didn’t think my life could get any worse, saddled with a name like Ham...this happens. I die and I’m left to haunt Echoes Yard. The place you only visit when it rains.”

“You’re not a ghost, Ham.”

“So what am I?”

“You’re invisible. That’s all.”

“That’s all!”

“Don’t worry. I’ll—”

“I’m invisible and you tell me not to worry!”

“Shhh.” I glanced back. Some people had come out of Burger King to see who was doing all the shouting.

The thing is: they saw nothing.

Ham and me were invisible.

“Calm down,” I told him. “There’s stuff you should know.”

Despite the shock of his sudden transition of being there to being nowhere—at least as far as everyone else was concerned—he took the news well.

We sat side by side on a bench.

He shook his head. “And you say this Inherited Visibility Syndrome was in my blood?”

“And it usually hits just after puberty.”

“But why didn’t anyone tell me about it?”

“We’re Invisibles. We don’t tell anyone until they lose their visibility.”

“No shit. I can’t wait to tell the guys.”

“No can do.”

“Uh?”

“You can never tell regular people you’re an Invisible.”

“Who says?”

“That’s our law.”

“It’s not my law.” He was grinning. “I’ll tell who I want...and Jesus Christ! I’ve just realized. I’ll be a god. I can payback all the people who’ve screwed me over. I can walk into a bank and help myself to as much cash as—”

“Ham, it doesn’t work like—”

“I’ll kick newsreaders in the ass live on TV—no one will see me do it.”

“Ham, you can’t,” I warned. “We’ve got rules. No interference. No telling people we’re—”

“Oh shit.” His eyes blazed. “Think of the fun!’’

I grabbed his hand. “Now, that’s what you can have. Fun. But only if you obey our rules.”

Quickly I told him about us. That Invisibles inherited a gene—from the mother’s side of the family—that leads to a sudden loss of visibility in the teens. A bit like inheriting a gene for red hair. And no, it wasn’t permanent. It lasts just a few hours every night when there’s a full moon. That it’s been calculated that there’s about a million of us the world over.

“Are you sure this isn’t a wind up?” he asked all of a sudden.

“No.”

“I really am invisible?”

“Yes, to ordinary people.”

“But you can see me?”

“Invisibles can see other Invisibles. That’s how it works.”

“But I’ve seen the invisible man movies. Shouldn’t we be naked?”

“No.”

“But why can’t people see our clothes?”

“That’s part of the syndrome, too. Whatever’s in intimate contact with our body for longer than a few minutes becomes infected with invisibility, too.”

“No shit.”

“Think about it,” I told him. “There are bits of you that aren’t alive, but you consider them part of your body; do you follow?”

“You mean like hair and fingernails?”

“And don’t forget the fillings in your teeth and that stud in your ear.”

“Jesus. This is more awesome than I thought.”

I nudged him with my elbow. “Shuffle along the seat. No, the other way...away from me. Now look at the wood.”

“Hell, I can see right through it.”

“You follow? Close proximity to us makes things invisible.”

“Wait. I can see the bench again.”

“It only lasts a second or two when we move away from it. Think of it like body heat. If you hold a pen it’ll stay warm for a—wait! Ham, where are you going?”

“Sightseeing.”

“Ham, there’s stuff I should tell you first. Important stuff.”

“Sorry, Kate. I want to make the most of this.”

“Wait, you can’t walk through—”

“Ouch.”

“I was going to explain that you can’t walk through walls.”

“Nurrr...now you tell me.”

I took him by the shoulders and looked at his face. A good-looking face, I noted, with those brown, soulful eyes. “You’ve grazed your nose. It doesn’t look broken though.”

“Bruised jaw, grazed nose. What an initiation into being a god.”

“We’re not gods, Ham.”

“But we’re invisible!” Excitement bubbled up inside of him again. His eyes twinkled. “Come on!”

I had to run to keep up. “Ham! Wait, you don’t know the rules yet!”

“Tell them to go fuck the rules!”

“Where you going?”

“The County Morgue.”

“Ham...I don’t think that’s a good idea. Ham?”

But he was running fast.

I got the feeling he’d learn the rules the hard way.

We arrived panting at the dumpy concrete structure with those ridgey glass blocks for windows. You know? The ones that you’re not supposed to be able to see through, but you can always see enough blurry shapes to give you a good idea of what’s going on anyway.

Ham stood by the doorway to a brilliantly lit lobby. The sign over the door read in big, doomy letters: COUNTY MORGUE. AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY.

I groaned. “Oh, shit, are you sure you want to do this?”

“How old are you, Kate?”

“Seventeen.”

“I’m eighteen and I’ve never seen a dead body.”

“Sheesh. Who wants to?”

“Kate, I’ve always been sheltered by an over protective mother. I’ve lived life in a kind of wishy-washy twilight.”

“Don’t rush things, you don’t know what—”

“Now I’ve got the opportunity to really LIVE life. To experience life, death...” He licked his lips. “Everything.”

With that, he turned away to push through the swing doors. I followed.

Fast.

A cop stood in the hallway. He turned when he heard the doors open. He looked in our direction but I saw from the focus of his eyes he couldn’t see us. His eyes were on the door. Maybe he was thinking someone had pushed open the door then let it close again without coming in. Bold, Ham walked up to the cop, stuck out his tongue, then waved his hands in front of the big man’s face.

The cop didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.

Didn’t see, Ham or me.

Delighted, Ham turned to me. Before he could open his mouth and give us away, I put my fingers to his lips. I felt them mould into a smile beneath my fingertips.

He turned. Walked. I followed.

Hell, where was he taking me?

We moved along the hallway lined with offices. With it being after midnight most were in darkness. Only death is a twenty-four/seven business: there’d still be new arrivals, so there were two or three orderlies to stash the bodies until the next day, when they’d be ready for collection, or for examination by the coroner. Ammonia spiked your nostrils; the place stank like a school washroom.

In one room a cop and a morgue guy in medic greens sat smoking black ropy-looking cigars over cups of coffee. They were sharing a dirty joke and they leaned back in their chairs to laugh out loud.

The things you see when you are such as we...

Now we passed sets of double doors marked OP 1, OP 2 and so on.

Ham whispered, “This is where they carve the turkey.” He grinned. “Wanna watch?”

I grabbed his arm. “All the lights are out. They won’t be doing any postmortems tonight.”

“Shoot. That’s not fair.”

“Ham...”

“Wait, I can hear something. Sshh. Follow me.”

We’d reached the end of the hallway. Stairs led down to a room with somber oak doors. A sign warned, STRICTLY NO ADMITTANCE.

Ham whistled. “Cool.”

“There’s no one down here,” I told him. “There’ll be nothing to see.”

“You’re kidding? In the County Morgue?”

With cat-like stealth he opened the door, then slipped inside. God help me, I didn’t want to do it, but I know the rules of the Invisible. I had to follow. And I’d have to stop him if he acted contrary to our creed.

The room was a big one. It was in darkness, too. All except for one light, that is. Maybe a reading lamp on a desk. It cast an unhealthy-looking yellow glow in one corner behind a screen.

We both stopped when we heard the male voice. “Oh...oh...ohhhh...that’s the way I like it, baby...that’s it...lift your legs nice and high...oooohhhh...you’re a fucking horny bitch, you know that? Oh boy...got sex smeared all over you...ah, that’s it...to the left, to the left...oh...”

I pulled Ham’s sleeve and whispered, “Come away...don’t go in there.”

But he moved forward. Biting my lip I went with him.

When we saw what was happening behind the screen I felt myself roll back on my heels as if I’d been pushed in the chest.

One of the morgue attendants had slipped down his green drawstring pants. I saw twin moons of buttocks that had the red-yellow dappling of a pizza. The guy was around fifty with close-cropped blond hair.

And he fucked a woman on the desktop. She had long curls that swished over the side of the desk as he tucked into her, pumping his buttocks hard.

“Oh, that’s the business, honey. You whisper dirty words in Joey’s ear...yeah, that’s it. Oh, that’s the thing...”

I screwed up my face as I turned away, not wanting to see an inch more of that disgusting pimple-butt-scape. I noticed that Ham, however, looked closer.

A second later he was back to whisper in my ear. “Shit, oh shit. You’re not going to believe this, Kate.”

“Let’s go, Ham. I don’t like it here. I think I’m going to throw—”

“Listen, that guy’s tooling a dead woman.”

“Oh, God. I feel—”

“And get this, he’s not entering via the doormat...and from the look of her she’s taken a lot of gunshot wounds.”

I closed my eyes. My breath got choked up in my throat. Perspiration ran down inside my T-shirt. God, the smell of this place. The sounds! The squishy sounds as the guy...

“It’s OK,” Ham whispered. “He’s stopped. Look for yourself.”

Yeah, I’m an idiot, aren’t I? I looked.

The mortuary attendant stood back from the woman with the chest full of Uzi rash. She slipped off the desk. The slap of her face against the floor tiles made me flinch.

Then the guy dragged away a sheet that covered another figure on a slab.

“Don’t be impatient, sir,” the man said. “Your turn now. Come on, let’s get you up on all fours...ah, there’s a nice little doggy.”

The stiff on the slab looked as if he’d stepped in front of a truck.

The attendant made cooing noises. “There, sir, let’s just loosen you in the ring department.”

I threw up. The cheese sandwich I’d eaten for supper hit the floor with a loud enough splash to make the attendant look up from his love-object. “Hey, who’s there?”

My puke was invisible.

For a moment. Then suddenly it was there. A Technicolor splatter, stinky and steamy against white tiles.

“Hey, what is this?” The man sounded furious.

I jabbed my hand into Ham’s back. When he turned to me I mouthed, Come on!

This time he followed.

3. RIVERSIDE PARK. NIGHT. WATER RHYMES WITH TORTURE.

Ham Masen shot questions. “How come I couldn’t see myself in the mirror but you see me?”

“It happens like that immediately after the transition. Then your eyes adjust. You’ll be able to see your reflection now.”

“Are my parents Invisibles?”

“Your mother possibly. But it sometimes skips a generation or two.”

“When will I become visible again?”

“Toward dawn.”

“So I shouldn’t be anywhere I shouldn’t when I...?” He fluttered his fingers.

“Right. And remember it’s instantaneous.”

“What happens if I eat?”

“Try it for yourself sometime.”

“Invisibles see each other?”

I nodded.

“Are there any more about now?”

“No.”

“How long is it since you lost yours?”

“My visibility?”

“Uh huh.”

“Four years ago.”

“Is that young?”

“Sort of average.”

“What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done when you’re—”

“Ham. Listen, being an Invisible isn’t all fun and Peep Tomery, you know?”

“Oh, come on, lighten up, Kate.”

“We have serious responsibilities.”

“Responsibilities? Huh, you sound like my parents.”

“And we are governed by a strict code of conduct.”

“You do sound like my parents.”

“Ham. You’ve got a lot to learn about us. And life’s going to be different for you now. You’ve got to learn how to handle being invisible. Have you thought what happens if you get married? Come on, walk with me.”

I linked arms with him. We walked and talked. Before long we found ourselves heading along one of the leafy paths of Riverside Park. The moon shone bright silver through the trees. The scent of dew grew stronger on the air. An owl hooted.

Maybe Ham was learning; he only paused for a moment when he found the couple making out under some bushes.

As we walked on, I whispered, “Unless you’re a pathological voyeur, watching naked people sex each other up becomes the dullest spectator sport ever, believe me.”

He smiled, his eyes catching the moonlight. “I’m glad you’re here to help me through this, Kate. I’d have gone nuts if you hadn’t found me.”

“Oh, you get used to it. Once, I was taking a shower when—”

“Shhh.” He held up a finger.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t you hear it?”

I shrugged.

“Listen.” He tilted his head. “Someone’s crying.”

I told him straight, “Ignore it. We don’t get involved.”

“But someone might be in trouble?”

“That isn’t our problem.”

“But—”

“And if you see someone being mugged or beaten up then it just leaves you feeling bad, because—”

“It sounded like a girl.”

“Ham—”

“There it is again. Come on.”

I thought: Why does he keep doing this to me? Every time I start to tell him to be careful he rushes off.

He dashed across the lawn in the direction of a line of trees. And, yup, I had to follow. Remember? I have responsibilities, too. I couldn’t let the idiot get himself into trouble the first night he lost his visibility.

So I followed. In a minute I’d almost caught up with him. He’d reached the bank of the river. It stretched out glistening silver beneath the moon. At the far side of the water I saw tall buildings that were swish apartment blocks. But at this side of the river there were only gloomy trees overhanging the bank. There were no houses, no cars, no people. Nothing but spooky shadow.

And Ham running, of course. I followed him along the riverside path. I saw his head turning left and right as he searched for whoever made the crying sound. Then suddenly he stopped me. He pointed down the bank to the shore. Two figures were at the water’s edge. Luckily—or unluckily, depending on your point of view—the moon lit every detail. A girl of around twenty dressed in a skimpy little skirt and a crop-top sat on the shore, while looming over her was a real brute of a man dressed in green combats. “Jesus,” Ham breathed. “He’s tied her to a post. Look at her hands.”

I heard the brute say, “Make that noise again and I’ll cut your tongue out.”

“Please...” The girl was terrified.

“So you’re going to be one of the talkative ones, hah? I know how to fix that.”

We watched the guy take a roll of silvery gaffer tape from his pocket. He stuck the loose end of tape to her lips then wound it round and round her head a few times for good measure.

“There, you won’t be singing out so loud now, will you?”

I pulled at Ham’s sleeve as the man talked to the girl. “Ham, come on,” I whispered. “Don’t watch.”

“We can’t just walk away.”

“We’ve got no choice,” I told him. “The rule. No interference in the lives of Visibles.”

“But look at her. He’s tied her to the post. This river’s tidal. Soon the water’s gonna be over her head; she’ll—”

“We’re not allowed to intervene. It’s mandatory: we never touch people or in any way influence events.”

“And have this on my conscience?” He looked shocked.

“What else can we do?”

“I’m going to help her.”

“No.” I grabbed his arm.

He shook himself free and went down to the shore.

And, yup...I had to follow. Had to somehow talk him out of doing anything stupid. Ham was green as spinach soup. He didn’t know the repercussions of intervention.

By the time we reached the couple on the shore the tide had turned. The girl sat with her long, bare legs splayed out in front; her hands tied behind her back to an iron loop set in the post. That in turn was rooted in the riverbed. And, boy-oh-boy, the tide came in fast. Already it washed over her thighs. Her eyes locked on to those of her abductor’s. They blazed in the moonlight as if halogen lamps burned inside her head. Let me tell you, that was pure terror.

I could see Ham wanted to do something to help. But it was the “how” that was foxing him. He stood beside the brutal-looking guy and the girl. And all the time the water is lapping higher and higher around her. Now at her waist. She sucked in her bare stomach as ice cold water touched, probed, licked.

The guy moved to a camera set on a tripod back up the beach, safely away from the water. I hadn’t noticed it before. What’s more, I saw that the camera was cable linked to a laptop computer resting on a crate.

The guy said, “Don’t you realize you’re going to be famous, honey lips? This webcast’s going out live on the Internet. You’re going to be Global. How’s that feel?”

She tried to cry out, but could only make a Mmmm sound through the tape covering her mouth.

“That’s right. I’m going to stand here next to the camera while all those boys and girls out there in Webland watch the water come up higher and higher, up over your juicy breasts, up over your throat.” He was panting.

This got the brute turned on. “The water’s soon gonna stroke your chin, then up over—”

“Stop it!”

The guy was startled by the closeness of the voice. This he didn’t expect.

“Who’s there?” He slipped a revolver from his pocket. “You betta come out here.” He cocked the hammer. “You betta show yourself.”

“Yeah, as if.”

Again the closeness startled him. He spun round, pointing the gun in the direction of Ham’s voice. Only he didn’t see anything, of course. Even though Ham stood only five feet from him.

Ham. You’re not supposed to meddle. I mouthed the words at him so brute-guy wouldn’t hear. But I knew Ham wasn’t going to halt now. Stuff was in motion. All I could do was watch. After all, I knew the penalty.

The girl squirmed as the tide flooded across the shore. The water had reached her midriff. I saw her eyes searching for the man who’d challenged her captor. They glittered with a wild kind of hope now. Maybe she was thinking she had a chance to survive after all.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” Ham told the guy. “You sadistic pervert.”

The guy snarled. “Come on out. Or haven’t you the guts to show yourself?”

“I’m right behind you.”

The guy whirled again, holding the gun out straight. Only he saw nothing but the river. Ham spoke to the pervert in a soft voice, goading him, taunting him. As he talked he crouched down to where a rock the size of a football lay on the beach.

No! I tried to signal him with my hand. If he lifted the rock the guy with the gun would see the rock floating in the air by itself. Looking at that brute I didn’t think the sight of levitating stones’d so easily spook him. He’d more likely loose off a few shots then work out the physics of it all later. It’d only take one lucky shot to finish Ham.

But Ham was smarter than I thought. He cupped his hands round the rock, allowing the power that made him invisible to seep from his skin into the stone. I noticed he kept glancing back at the girl bound to the stake. Water lapped at her breasts. Delirious with fear, her head rolled from side to side, while her hips thrust upward, as if she tried to arch her back out of the chilling river.

Despite what was happening to the girl Ham didn’t budge. The rock was the thing now. As I watched the rock it suddenly disappeared.

I knew I’d soon be able to see it again in a few seconds. Any Invisible would as their eyes adjusted to the correct physical plane, but the sadist wouldn’t. Even if dangled in front of his eyes, he’d see nothing.

By now, the tide had reached the girl’s throat. Her legs thrashed the water. I glanced at the camera that would convey her suffering to voyeurs the world over. More than anything, I wanted to kick the damn thing to shit. But I know the rule. I know the punishment, too.

Ham said to the guy, “I’m not here...I’m there.”

“You little creep.” The guy spun round. Confusion ran riot across his pervey face. “Come out. Show yourself.”

“Hey, fartpants. Did you know your zipper’s down?”

Like all men he automatically glanced down at his crotch. As his head ducked Ham struck. He swung the invisible rock down onto the back of the guy’s skull. The sound of skull bone shattering is a startling thing. Even the girl stopped writhing as the sadist belly-flopped onto the beach, his concave head leaking brain fluid and blood in a gory mess. Sheesh. What did the audience watching the webcast make of that?

Minutes later Ham had the captive untied and the tape peeled off her mouth. He laid the dripping girl high on the grass bank where she lay, half-conscious, panting. As he leaned over her, rubbing her cold wet hands, that’s when I did what I had to do.

It is our law, you see.

Picking up a branch I whacked Ham’s noodle, knocking him cold. Then after some dragging and panting of my own I had Ham just where I wanted him.

The cold water woke him up. He seemed surprised that he now sat with his back to the post, his hands tied behind him to the iron ring. Confused, he looked up at me as I stood on the bank, away from the incoming tide.

“Kate, what’s happened? Who put me here?”

“I did. I’m sorry, Ham.”

“But why?”

“It’s the law. If you intervene to save the life of a Visible you must take their place.”

“Kate?”

“I wish I didn’t have to do this. Good-bye.”

I walked back along the riverbank. Behind me lay the girl. She’d wake up cold to the bone, but she’d be OK. As for Ham Masen? The last I saw of him he was kicking his legs like he could drive the incoming tide back. He couldn’t of course.

And that’s where I’m going to leave it. Of course, if you’re deadly curious about what happened to Ham, as the water crept up over his chin, then I’m sure there’s the webcast somewhere out there in cyberspace. All you need do is shoot ‘Ham Masen’ into your search engine of choice.

That’s me done now.

Well...before I go, I might just gently blow into the back of your neck, while you think of lonely midnights and cold, cold river water shivering against your belly.

There...what did you feel? A breath of cool air perhaps?