Earthbound : A gripping crime thriller full of twists and supernatural suspense Fynn Perry (if you liked this book TXT) 📖

He walked through the closed porch door, still amazed at his ability to pass through solid objects. Inside, the hall was dimly lit and paneled with dark wood. In front of him rose dark wooden stairs, carved with the decorative, angular details of the Arts and Crafts style popular in the Fifties. He made his way up them to a brighter, pastel-colored landing with less paneling, a choice of four wooden doors and a window seat beneath a stained-glass pane. He caught a waft of Jennifer’s perfume and, hearing movement behind the first door on the right, chose to pass through it. Expecting to see Jennifer, he was instead brutally confronted by the rear view of her father, naked and entering an en-suite bathroom. His eyes widened in surprise—that was not a naked body he wanted to see. Despite knowing he couldn’t be seen, the situation was still extremely awkward. He quickly turned around and passed through the door and was out on the landing again.

John decided to choose the next door along and this time cautiously stick his head through first. Relieved, he saw Jennifer lying on her bed. He cleared his throat and offered a quiet “Hi” so as not to alarm her.

Jennifer gasped, and he watched as the look of wonder on her face changed to disbelief, then confusion. “John? Is that really you? I thought I’d imagined it when I saw you this way that night in the hospital. But then I saw others like you— in the hospital, in the streets. Either I can see the dead or I’m completely insa––” Her breathy voice choked as the precision in every detail of his virtual form clearly hit her for the second time.

Seeing the wonder in her eyes, he waited in silence for her to take him all in again: every blink of his eyes, every gentle rhythmic expansion, contraction, rise and fall of his chest. He could feel her assessing him, like she had done the first time they met, her gaze darting between his eyes, mouth, and hands.

“It’s amazing. I can see every pore on your face, every hair in your eyebrows, on your head, on your wrists, every stitch in your shirt!”

“I’m so glad I trimmed my nose hair before being stabbed,” he joked.

She smiled, but only briefly before she noticed the reddened pit in his shoulder. “What the hell happened?” She stood up immediately, instinct guiding her to want to touch and care for his wound, but the same cold sensation she had felt before, when John had tried to touch her hand the previous night, made her draw her hand back.

He felt a momentary calmness wash over him. She exuded a warmth and concern for his safety that he hadn’t even realized had been missing from his life.

“What happened?” she repeated.

“Don’t worry, Jen—it will heal,” he said with false bravado. Then he went through exactly what he had experienced: the attack on the highway, how he saw a part of him disappear with one of the surfer spirits; the Good Samaritan spirit who told him his wound would heal, and that too severe an injury could have disastrous consequences.

“For God’s sake, John! Now I have to worry about your spirit and your body surviving? I thought being in a coma was some sort of protection, some form of healing.”

“For the body maybe, but as you can see, not so much for the spirit,” he said with a half-smile. “At least now I know the dangers.”

Jennifer sighed. “Tell me you asked her how people recover from a coma. Because we need to make sure that you do.”

“I didn’t get a chance. She thought I was crazy when I told her that I’m not really dead,” he admitted. Seeing Jennifer’s frown, he added, “But before that she did say that spirits stay on earth until they’ve found the answers they’re seeking, until whatever is keeping them here is no longer of interest to them.”

“And then what happens?”

“Like the spirit of the old man said, we move on to the afterlife.”

“How? What does that look like?” Jennifer pressed.

“I don’t know, Jen. I’m guessing I’ll go through that whole thing with the voices calling out to me to join them, like I did just before I turned into this. Except, this time, of course, I wouldn’t fight it. I would just let them take me.”

“But what if the same process applies to coma patients. I mean, what if, once they’ve found what they’ve been looking for, they don’t move on but wake up instead?

“And those that don’t wake up are still searching?”

“Yes! We have to assume that’s what it takes. It means that we have to find out why all this happened, John. I mean the stabbing, the attack. My father told me the police have a composite photo of the attacker.”

“I know, and I’ve found out a lot more besides.” He recounted the events at the precinct. “It was obvious Donovan and the employee knew our attacker but were covering it up.”

Jennifer sat in shock for a beat. “Why would they cover up someone trying to kill you?” she asked indignantly. “Do you think they were threatened to make them say what they did?”

“I’m not so sure,” John said, and he went on to tell Jennifer about Jim’s drug addiction and the change in ownership of the pub. “My father knew Donovan was wasting the money he was sending him to run the pub. He’s a pretty good judge of character. But he kept on helping him because he told me once that Donovan saved his life. But I think Donovan has now gotten himself into something far beyond anything he can hope to control.”

“But why would he want you dead? What would that achieve?”

“That’s just it—nothing, as far as I can see.”

“Just before you got here, my father told me he got a call from the detective leading the inquiry into your stabbing. He said an