EXCERPT

Like Lazarus

by

Ellen Margret

 Chapter One

 Snowflakes fell, so fine that they appeared not to be settling upon the two figures that stood staring down at the body lying on the ground. Rather, the virgin white flakes seemed almost to fall right through their forms to merge silently with the flawlessly smooth, white covering on the ground below.

The features of the corpse were not discernable until a sharp gust of icy wind tore the white dusting from his face and blew it away, depositing it onto the sharp, jagged rocks nearby.

“Damn it!” the taller of the two figures cursed as a wave of anger washed over him. “This never gets any easier.” He didn’t look away though, for all his attention was riveted upon the waxen face of the corpse.

“Then you should stop coming here and cease tormenting yourself, Rafe,” the figure at his side said, somewhat impatiently.

“Cerdic, my friend, I can’t help it. I feel compelled to come, but there is no reason for you to come with me every time. This need not concern you any more.”

The other snorted. “Of course, it concerns me and, Rafe, I don’t come every time. If I did then I would get nothing done, would I?”

Rafe grimaced, for he was still looking at the corpse’s white face and thin blue lips. Those were lips that had once been full and warm and capable of kissing a woman into a state of ecstasy. The eyelids were closed, frozen to the eyeballs beneath, but the eyes had once been lapis blue, and they had often twinkled with humour in a face that had been classically beautiful. The strong jaw was just discernable above the zipped up collar of the mountaineer’s jacket. So, too, was the dimple in the chin that now held a tiny reservoir of compacted snow. A few strands of light-blonde hair poked out from the padded hood that covered his head. “You just won’t let go, will you, my friend? You have practically devoted your entire existence to watching over me.”

“But not for much longer, you know that I will have to leave quite soon. The bosses have fresh plans for me.”

Rafe sighed and took a long hard look at his friend. He wasn’t much to look at, and the image presented was that of a short man with fine straw-coloured hair and a nose too large for his round face. “And I wish you well in your new venture, Cerd, and I apologise for being so tetchy today. It’s just that I don’t always get to see those facial features so clearly, but now that I can, it brings it home to me yet again just how much has been lost.”

Cerdic nodded in total understanding. He was, in general a very understanding and a very patient soul. “A life, a very precious life.”

Lost in reverie, Rafe knelt down and went to touch the frozen face, but his hand merely passed through and came out the other side. He sighed forlornly. “Yes, and all the more precious to me since it was my life. Look at me, Cerd, look at my body lying there.”

“I am, what else is there to look at in this God forsaken place other than snow and rocks and sky?”

“I look like I died yesterday rather than twenty years ago. These frigid conditions have kept me fresher than a trout in a freezer. Murder is a wretched business, Cerd, my murder in particular.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I still can’t truly believe it. My own climbing partner kicked me off the mountainside up there.”

“I know. I saw the look on his face when he stared down at your broken body, and it could only be described as smug. You know, I wish that I’d got there earlier, but I arrived seconds too late. God, I wish that I had been able to warn you in time. A whisper in your ear maybe or imparting a feeling of impending doom, anything to have stopped it. I was your spirit guide after all.”

“Curse the bastard!” Rafe hissed. “That son of a bitch planned it all along. Garth had taken the lead and was about six feet above me whist I was attempting to scale a near vertical face. It was stupid, I should have known better, but how was I to know that Garth would suddenly pull out his knife and slice through my rope? He was laughing as he told me that he was doing it for Veronica so that the two of them could be together at last.” Rafe shook his head and sighed. “Cerd, I must hold the record for being the most miserable, discarnate soul ever.”