KIMMY'S LIST!

CHAPTER 2

‘Go away!’ Kimmy Davis screamed into the darkness, shattering the early morning serenity.

She sat bolt upright in her bed. Her chest heaved under her oversized night T-shirt. Her wide eyes scanned the darkness in front of her while her resting brain awoke.

Boyd flicked on the bedside light. ‘Are you alright?’ Concern etched into his face as he regarded his wife sitting upright beside him.

Kimmy’s chest continued to heave under her heavy gasps for air. Her stare was blank.

Boyd rubbed a comforting hand across Kimmy’s back. ‘It’s Ok. Breathe slowly…,’ he said. His tone was calm. He rubbed large circles around her back. ‘Did you have another one…?’ he asked knowingly.

Kimmy nodded slowly. Her shoulders slumped and her head dropped.

‘It’s OK…Just breathe.’ Boyd pressed a button on his mobile phone, beside his bed. 3:23AM lit up on the display. He briefly shook a disapproving head at yet another early morning interruption.

Kimmy cupped her forehead as she fell back onto her bed. ‘I don’t know how much more of this I can take…’ she said.

Boyd lifted himself onto an elbow as he regarded his wife. ‘I know … I know. They appear real…But they’re not. You know they’re not real. They’re just dreams….’

She draped an arm across her eyes, as Boyd’s words resonated. When awake, her logic brain reassured her she just had a vivid dream. But it was her sub-conscious brain that presented these realistic nocturnal visions, and they were frightening.

Boyd gently eased the glass back to her mouth. Kimmy took another sip. This time the water passed more freely, it moistened her dry mouth.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Boyd asked.

Kimmy took comfort from her next sip of water. With a big gulp, she emptied the glass.

Boyd held out his hand. ‘Do you think you will be able to get back to sleep?’

Kimmy handed him the empty glass. ‘I can try…’ She reclined back and snuggled under her covers.

Boyd watched her settle. He placed the glass beside his phone and turned out the bed side light.

The next morning, Boyd was sitting at the breakfast bench reading the Saturday morning newspaper when Kimmy shuffled her way into the kitchen.

‘Good Morning, Hun,’ she said. Her dishevelled, matted hair was evidence of yet another restless night.

Boyd lifted his eyes from the paper. ‘Good morning. How’d you sleep…?’

He watched her move through the kitchen.

Kimmy grabbed a mug. ‘I’m so sorry for waking you up, again.’

‘Don’t worry about it. I keep telling you that.’

Kimmy forced out a smile.

‘I slept OK. Once I fell back to sleep, I slept pretty solid. There were no more disruptions.’ She poured a coffee from the percolator.

‘Good to hear.’ Boyd watched her slip onto the stool beside him.

Kimmy held her mug with both hands as she sought comfort from her early morning coffee. The black rings under her eyes and ashen appearance were testament to the affect these night time interruptions had on her health.

For some time now, too long for her to remember, Kimmy had been visited in her sleep by these unknown people, often a different one each time.

She knew they were there because she felt them nudge her, or tap her on the shoulder. At least that was what her sub-conscious brain told her, while she slept. To her, it all appeared so real.

For the most, these visitors, all adults, usually stood beside her bed and stared to her, only leaving when she woke in fright.

Nothing was said and no reason was given for these recurring nocturnal visits.

In recent weeks the visits occurred more regularly. The stress they caused impacted Kimmy’s general wellbeing. It wasn’t so much the sleep deprivation these visits caused, although Boyd would probably argue otherwise, it was the psychological stress that affected Kimmy.

Who were these people? Why did they visit her in her sleep? Were they nothing more than figments of her over active imagination? Were they people that had passed on? Did they want some help from her? These questions and more occupied her waking thoughts for hours, following each nightly episode.

‘Which one was it last night…?’ Boyd asked. He regarded his wife..

Kimmy sipped on her coffee for courage. History had taught her that she felt better if she talked about it the morning after it happened. It seemed to help purge them from her conscious thoughts.

‘The man with the full-faced beard….’ Kimmy said.

Boyd nodded. He was full aware of all Kimmy’s nocturnal visitors, their physical descriptions at. ‘He hasn’t been back for a while, has he?’

Kimmy shook her head.

‘No, No he hasn’t. Last night he woke me then stared at me for so long. Then he moved to the foot of the bed where he continued to stare at me in complete silence. I wish I knew what they wanted from me.’ Her fixed glare shifted to her husband.

‘Do you think I am being haunted by ghosts, or something?’

‘All I know is…they are not real. They are manifestations in your sub-conscious brain while you sleep. They can’t hurt you because they do not exist. They are not really standing there.’

Kimmy sipped on her coffee as she silently wished they would all leave her alone.

Wednesday morning was about to get a whole lot more unpleasant for Jax. He received the memo, but simply forgot the significance of this date. He was distracted by his growing caseloads.

Jax sat at his desk in the back corner of his office. Earlier in the morning he noted that most of his colleagues were absent, but he never gave it another thought. He was about to learn the reason for their collective absenteeism.

His Detective Senior Sergeant entered the bull pen, accompanied by two senior officers from upstairs and the Oolong Government Police Minister. Jax’s shoulders slumped when he saw the visitors enter the room.

He rolled his eyes then as if by instinct, quickly scanned for an escape route. Problem was, the only way out was blocked by the entering entourage. He was trapped.

Today was a day that all cops like Jax tried to avoid. Usually, when dignitaries were scheduled to visit, Jax and many of his other like - minded colleagues, intentionally made sure they were absent from the station for the period of the visit.

As the entourage approached, Jax silently rued his carelessness. He knew the minister was coming for a visit, he just simply forgot. Frankly, he couldn’t be bothered with all the protocol bullshit that surrounded these visits. And all the arse-kissing made him sick.

‘Ah, over here we have Detective Serge. Jax Higgins….’ The senior sergeant said, as the group moved towards Jax.

Jax was like a deer in the head lights as they approached. He froze, watching them near, step-by-step.

Jax leads up our missing person’s team here at Oolong,’ The Senior Sergeant said.

The minister approached Jax and shook his hand.

‘Minister,’ Jax said, with a single nod. He didn’t vote for the incumbent government and he did not like the work this particular minister did for police.

‘You are doing a wonderful job here, Detective,’ the Police Minister said. It was a perfunctory comment that attempted to disguise his lack of genuine interest. The politician glanced around the near empty office before he returned his focus to Jax.

He gestured to Jax’s white board containing five photographs. ‘Are these people all missing?’ he asked.

‘They are…’ Jax said.

‘Why Don’t you run through some of these cases for Minister Newel,’ Jax’s boss said.

‘What about this one here,’ the Minister said.

He gestured towards the photo of a female. “This young red haired woman here. She has that typical Irish appearance, doesn’t she? Red hair. Pale white skin and green eyes.’

‘That’s one of the more recent cases. She went missing about four months ago.’

Newell approached the board and read the name under the photograph.

‘Sarah Moon … 26 years of age,’ he read. ‘Hmmmm. What are the circumstances of her disappearance?’

Jax had no interest entertaining this Minister with war stories, but he did so under sufferance. Frankly, he wanted to keep his job, so he played along.

‘She was last seen at a CBD hotel drinking with friends. Left the hotel shortly after 10:30PM and hasn’t been seen since. A substantial quantity of blood was found on the roadway beside where she parked her car.

‘We have obtained DNA from the blood, but we don’t have anything to match it to, at this stage. Her abandoned vehicle was found burnt out in farm land south of Winchester, about two - weeks after she disappeared,’ Jax said.

‘Winchester is a small country town about forty kilometers south - west of us here at Oolong, sir.’ The Senior sergeant said to his visitor. ‘It has a population of about 2000 to 3500 residents.’

‘I see…Yes, yes. I think I know that town,’ The police minister said, without any semblance of conviction. ‘Any leads on this one, Sergeant?’

Jax shook his head. That was always the question he found hardest to answer. The longer a case went on, the less likely they would be found alive, if at all. And that brought with it a sense of failure.

‘No, nothing much is known about this disappearance, at this stage.’

Newell strolled the length of the board examining each of the photos on display. He gestured to the first photo. ‘This poor gent has been missing since 2016,’ he said, stating the obvious. ‘And what about him. Not much known of his whereabouts either?’ The Minister said as a question that sounded riddled with condescension.

Would he be on the board if we knew his whereabouts? Jax thought. Using all his restraint, what he actually said was, ‘That’s correct.’

Max checked his watch. He’d had enough of this time - wasting bullshit. Fortunately, the Police Minister took the not - so - subtle hint.

‘Well, we shall leave you to it, Detective. I won’t take up any more of your valuable time. Thank you for running through your cases with me,’ he said.

Jax nodded once. ‘You’re welcome,’ is what he said. Now piss off, is what he thought.