Firewalk by Chris Roberson

Author:Chris Roberson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Firewalk
ISBN: FirewalkInterior
Publisher: Night Shade Books
Published: 2016-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“You realize all of this sounds totally crazy, right?” Izzie could still smell the mentholated rub in her nostrils, though she’d tried repeatedly to wash it off before they left the morgue.

“You don’t have to remind me,” Patrick said, sipping his coffee.

“Just because something sounds crazy doesn’t mean it can’t be true.” Joyce looked up at the cloudy skies above. “Have you guys ever read much about quantum mechanics, string theory, higher dimensional space? Because that stuff sounds crazy, but it’s just science.”

Izzie turned to look past Patrick at Joyce on the far end of the bench. It had been her idea to get some air, and so the three of them had left the morgue and the Hall of Justice behind, picked up coffee in to-go cups from Holy Grounds—a coffee shop housed in a converted chapel, of course—and parked on a bench at the Founder’s Square park. It was chilly out, but not uncomfortably so, and being out in the open under the wide, gray sky was somewhat comforting after being underground with the dead people for so long.

“It’s funny you should mention that,” Patrick said. “Izzie and I were just talking to a physics professor at Ross University about that kind of stuff yesterday.”

Joyce raised an eyebrow, giving him a look of mock astonishment. “Why, Lieutenant Tevake, are you considering a career change? Going to chuck the law enforcement gig to go off and study the mysteries of the universe?”

Izzie chuckled, and Patrick glanced in her direction before answering.

“It’s tempting.” He smirked. “But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to visit Miss Ghoul here in the morgue.”

“That’s Doctor Ghoul to you, buster.” Joyce nudged him. “I didn’t spend six years in evil medical school to be called ‘Miss,’ thank you very much.”

“But seriously, you’re a doctor,” Izzie broke in. “You studied science. How can you justify thinking that some unknown agency is manipulating people’s brains, and even controlling their bodies after death? That kind of supernatural stuff is just superstitious nonsense.” Though her tone was somewhat argumentative, it was really herself that she was trying to convince.

“I think it’s a question of Occam’s Razor, isn’t it,” Joyce answered.

“Is that the one that goes, ‘When you’ve eliminated the impossible, what remains, however improbable, must be true’?” Patrick asked.

“That’s Sherlock Holmes, actually,” Joyce said. “It’s from a story written by Arthur Conan Doyle.”

“Um, I’m pretty sure it was Spock who said that.” Patrick scratched his chin. “I remember it from a Star Trek movie.”

“Of course you do.” Joyce shook her head, and turned back to Izzie. “But it’s the same basic idea. Occam’s Razor is the principle that the simplest solution is usually the right one. Or, to put it another way, you shouldn’t make more assumptions than is absolutely necessary.” She rolled her eyes towards Patrick as she took a sip of her coffee. “That’s the basic tenet of detective work, isn’t it? The simplest theory that fits the available facts is the right one?”

Patrick shrugged. “Usually. Ninety percent of the time, maybe.

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