13.07.2015 Views

The Uninvited

The Uninvited

The Uninvited

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here and there, white blobs in a murk ofcollapsed bracken and heather. I turn andhead back for the black granite boulderthat marks the turn of the sheep-path.Seagulls wheel overhead.‘Sunny Chen is dead. Sunny Chen isdead. Sunny Chen is dead.’If I say a thing aloud it can sound likesomeone official speaking, and then I canbegin to believe it. I walk faster,visualising the pulping machine, and theheap of woodchips and sawdust in theskip below, stained red from SunnyChen’s blood. Sunny Chen mashed tohamburger. I have to go through the wholeprocess with him. I don’t know why. Notjust once, but again and again, with hisheart and his da Vinci aortas andventricles sliced through by the whirring

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