Free Spirits from Beyond by Simon R. Green

worried about getting past the one uniformed soldier they’ve got guarding the door?”
    “If you could See the kind of defences and protections surrounding that building, you would wet yourself,” Happy said firmly. “There are booby-traps set in place that could turn you inside out and play you like a concertina. There are others that could blow your soul right out of your body. This place is more private than a very private place with extraordinarily private tendencies.”
    “Do I need to give you a paper bag to breathe into?” said JC.
    “Couldn’t hurt,” said Happy.
    JC led the way across the half-empty car park, heading straight for the nondescript building ahead of them. He had a strong feeling of being watched by cold unfriendly eyes. But then, he often did. He squared his shoulders and put a bit of a swagger into his walk. Never give them an inch, or they’ll walk all over you. He strode straight up to the single uniformed soldier standing in front of the only door and nodded to him briskly. He could hear the rest of his team shambling to a halt behind him but didn’t look back. The soldier gave every appearance of being as ordinary as the door and building he guarded: average height and weight, with a face you wouldn’t look at twice . . . but his smile and his eyes were very cold.
    JC gave the solider his best charming smile, to no obvious effect. JC carefully avoided looking at the soldier’s rifle, which happened to be pointed right at him, and glanced back at his team-mates. Melody was scowling, Happy was sweating, and Kim was smiling sweetly.
    “Step forward, children, and make a good showing. Allow me to present to you . . . the official guardian of the Carnacki Institute Secret Libraries. Not just any British soldier; this is Tommy Atkins. He’s not real, as such, but don’t hold that against him. Mr. Atkins here is the ghost of every British soldier who ever fell in battle, defending his country; with some stain still on his character. This is his last chance to do penance and make amends for his sins, before he moves on.”
    The team took it in turns to blink at Tommy Atkins, who looked calmly back.
    “And you know all this how, JC?” murmured Melody.
    “The Boss told me,” said JC. “I think we can all guess why.”
    “So,” Happy said carefully to Tommy Atkins, “you’re not only you; you’re a whole bunch of you. Are you all volunteers?”
    “That’s the idea, sir,” Tommy Atkins said easily. “Each of us stepped forward, grateful for one last chance to put our papers in order. You’ve heard of the Unknown Soldier? Well, we’re the Known Soldier. Guilty as charged, every one of us, for sins small and large.”
    “How many of you are there?” said Melody.
    “As many as needed, to do the job, miss,” said Tommy Atkins. “We take it in turns to stand guard, do our duty, protect the contents of the Secret Libraries. Until we’ve done enough to put things right and move on; and then the next man steps up. We will guard this door till Judgement-Day, if need be. Never any shortage of Tommy Atkinses.”
    “The very best kind of guard,” JC said cheerfully. “Never gets tired, never sleeps, never loses concentration. Because he’s dead and therefore beyond such weaknesses.”
    “Professional soldier, that’s me, sir,” said Tommy Atkins. “Now and forever; or at least until my time’s up. Now, sir, I’m all for a nice chat now and then, but either you present to me the proper password, or I’m afraid I will have to blow several large holes through you.”
    “Of course,” said JC, still carefully not looking at the soldier’s rifle. He presented his left hand to Tommy Atkins, palm down, and carefully pronounced a certain Word. A glowing eye appeared on the back of JC’s hand. It swivelled around to look at Tommy Atkins, blinked once, then disappeared. The soldier nodded briefly and lowered his rifle. He looked thoughtfully at the rest of the