Soul Fire

nothing. And that breaks the spell of the Beach, and brings me back to earth in my dingy bedroom, where I’m hunched over my laptop. And that starts the doubts off again: is
soulbeach.org a hoax, or even some kind of mirage I’ve invented because I can’t bear the thought of Meggie being dead?
    But her hugs and Danny’s kisses and even Javier’s insults seem so much more real than homework, chores and bitter April gales.
    ‘You daydreaming again?’
    I blink. ‘I told you, I’m not day—’
    But then I realise I must have been, because something’s changed. Meggie and Javier have disappeared, and the Guests are rushing towards the water’s edge and in the far
distance there’s a single figure, the head only just above the waves.
    The swimmer seems to be struggling, even though it’s impossible to drown off Soul Beach. You can’t die twice.
    ‘It’s someone new,’ Danny says.
    I turn towards him. ‘A new Guest?’
    He tries to smile. ‘Must be. Poor bastard. This is how we all arrive, as a castaway. I still remember washing up here, coughing, blinking. None of it made sense. Where was I? Was I alive?
Who were all these people?’ He shivers, then stands up. ‘Come on. You want to understand the Beach? Then you’d better see how it all begins.’

2
    The walk towards the water’s edge takes effort, our feet sinking into the hot, dry sand. Ahead of us, more Guests than I’ve ever seen appear from nowhere. A
hundred, maybe more. The chatter gets louder , shriller .
    ‘ It’s a guy.’
    ‘ Are you sure?’
    ‘ I can’t see him. Is he cute?’
    ‘Is that all you girls ever think about?’ Javier’s voice rises above the hubbub. ‘The guy’s just died. He’s about to discover the so-called gift of eternal
life. Show some humanity, please.’ It is a man, tripping and staggering as the waves sweep him ashore. He struggles to stay upright, arms held up, reaching out for something or someone
to steady him.
    My lungs won’t work. I gasp for air but nothing comes. I feel his terror . His breathlessness. The sensation of Danny’s hand gripping mine becomes more distant, and I’m
floating above everyone and everything.
    Is this what dying feels like?
    ‘Alice. What’s up?’
    Danny’s voice is so far away, soft above the uglier sound of Guests gossiping.
    ‘ Where do you think he’s from? He has auburn hair. Quite Celtic looking.’
    ‘ Ugh, but he’s too short. When are they going to send someone taller? Plus, he’s a mess.’
    ‘ Be fair on the guy. I bet you didn’t look so hot when you’d just died, did you?’
    I lean against Danny. My vision is blurred, my breath short. ‘I’m . . . OK. But this feels so intrusive.’
    No one else seems to care. I’m shivering. What’s that phrase? It’s like someone walking over my grave. Even though I’m the only one on the Beach who doesn’t have a grave.
    Danny nods towards the bar, which is deserted. ‘Now could be a good time for a drink.’
    I’m about to agree when something makes me stop.
    ‘Where’s my sister? We should find her first.’
    I scan the faces, looking for Meggie. I hate the idea that she’s alone in the crowd. In spite of the fierce sunshine and the azure sky, the Beach feels a dark, raw place right now.
    Then I see her. She’s almost at the water’s edge, her long hair blowing in the breeze. I’m about to call out to her, beg her to stay away because it’s bound to remind her
of her own first hours on the Beach . . .
    But then I see him and I can’t call out. Can’t even breathe.
    My eyes lock onto the shipwrecked man.
    No.
    Impossible.
    It can’t be.
    But even as my mind fights it, my heart knows it is him. Red-gold curls, freckles, that bewildered expression. It’s a face I haven’t seen for eleven months, yet I could draw
it from memory.
    It’s Tim.
    The first – the only – boy my sister’s ever fallen in love with.
    And the chief suspect in her murder.

3
    Random thoughts fire as fast as bullets from a machine gun.
    Tim is on the Beach.
    Everyone on the Beach is dead.
    Except Visitors.
    But everyone says I’m the only Visitor to show up in a very long time . . .
    Tim’s eyes are wide with panic.
    If Tim’s not a visitor, he must be dead.
    A tightness spreads from my chest up to my throat, as though I’m being choked. Danny is frowning at me.
    ‘You lookterrible. What’s up?’
    I want to tell him everything: how Tim was the love of Meggie’s life. And the police’s number