I close my heavy eyelids, letting the drugs send me to oblivion, and surrendering to the darkness that has been calling me for a long time. I quickly drift into a deep sleep and slip inside a surreal dream. A person dressed head to toe as a female skeleton appears in the doorway of the library. It’s obviously some strange manifestation of my memory after walking through the Day of the Dead parade earlier, but it’s a disturbing final image for my tired mind to conjure. Her face is hidden by a mask, so the only real thing I can see are her eyes, which look wide and wild. She’s wearing a wig, and appears to be dressed as some kind of bride come back from the dead.
“I hate you,” she whispers, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.
69CARTER
I can’t hear anything on the other side of the door anymore.
Birdy doesn’t reply, even though I say her name, over and over.
The tunnels are now my only option.
I was always the fastest runner at school, and then again at the police academy. It’s one of the only things I know I’m good at. But I can’t run through the tunnels. They are too small, so small that in some places I have to crawl. I still go as fast as I can, following the sound of the ocean until I see light. Not daylight—it’s the middle of the night—but the glow from the bonfire on the beach where some people are still celebrating the Day of the Dead. All of them are dressed like death—faces painted like skeletons or hidden behind masks—and nobody even seems to notice when I walk out from behind the rocks.
People are setting off fireworks on the beach, which happens every year, but strictly speaking, isn’t allowed. It’s dangerous when they’ve all been drinking, but I don’t have time to stop. I hurry across Blackwater Bay, my feet sinking in the sand, and as soon as I am on the coast path I run. I run all the way to the village, passing The Smuggler’s Inn—which is still in darkness even though it would normally open late, god knows where my sister is—then sprint up thehill. I don’t have time to stop or catch my breath. Birdy is in danger. I don’t believe in all that death prediction malarkey, but I remember all the bottles of pills I saw in her bag, and I’m worried about what she might be planning to do.
I hurry up the lane toward Spyglass, turn the corner, and run straight into my sister. She’s dressed up for the festival but has removed her mask.
“Maddy? What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking a walk. Jesus, Carter. You’ve got blood on you, are you okay?”
“Yes. No. Wait, I don’t understand. Why are you up here? It’s the busiest night of the year, but the pub is in darkness and you’re out for a walk?”
“There was a power cut. Most people had left for the parade anyway, so I came up here to get some fresh air and enjoy the view of the fireworks.”
Seems like a strange bloody thing to do. But the viewisspectacular from up here. You can see all of Hope Fallsandthe fireworks. There are some loud bangs and an explosion of light in the sky right on cue.
“You look like you need to go to hospital. Do you need me to drive you?” she offers, her face full of concern. My big sister has always looked out for me.
“I’m fine. Just a bump on the head. Please go home, Maddy. I can’t explain what is going on, but I need you to go home.”
My sister never does what I say, but tonight she seems to make an exception.
The front door of Spyglass is open when I get there, so I hurry inside and make my way to the library. I’m breathless, sweating, shaking, and when I walk into the room I can’t seem to process what I see. Birdy is slumped on the floor. I rush over and feel for a pulse but can’t find one. The front door slams in the distance behind me, almost as though someone just left the house when I arrived, butmaybe the wind blew it shut. I use Birdy’s phone to call for an ambulance, then start CPR and try to remember my training.
“Don’t you fucking die on me,” I say beneath my breath. Then I pinch her nose and give her mouth to mouth, before continuing with compressions. “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. The DCI Bird I know would never die on the day some bullshit company predicted she was going to. She’d tell death to fuck right off, and die another day just to prove a fucking point.”
I breathe into her mouth again.
It isn’t working.
Nothing I’m doing is bringing her back.
“You asked me earlier if our paths are already mapped out for us no matter what we do? My answer is no. We determine our own destiny. You decide what happens to you. Even if this bullshit death prediction is true, you can change it. Love can change anything. You didn’t have anything to live for before, but you do now. Your daughter.”
What I’m saying isn’t working either.
Birdy was right, time is more important than anything else.
And I think I’m too late.
70BIRDY
One year later
Everybody lies and everybody dies. Those are two of the only things you can be certain of in an uncertain world. Someone said that to me once, I can’t remember who, but what they said is true and I think about it often.
I didn’t die when I thought I was going to.
