by Val Crowe
Mads flickered into sight next to me. “Good thought,” she said.
I nodded. “Yeah, well, let’s hope it works.” I couldn’t be sure my mother was strong enough to hold on while it all came out of her. I couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t just come for me instead of settling into the motorhome.
I went around to the back, where my mother stowed her generator fuel. She had a dual-fuel generator that ran on either gasoline or propane. Luckily, she had some gas. I pulled out the extra gas she had and began to liberally douse everything in gasoline.
“Um, what are you doing?” said Mads.
“What do you think?” I said.
“If the ghosts realize—”
“Just stay quiet and maybe they won’t,” I muttered. I knew that my mother had a lighter she kept handy, just in case the starter on the grill didn’t work. I found that.
Then I left the motorhome, dribbling a trail of gasoline behind me. I walked down the road as far as I could, out of sight of the motorhome, until the gasoline was gone.
Then it was just a waiting game.
I wasn’t sure if I was far enough away. The ghosts could sense me, I was sure of it. They could leave the motorhome in search of me if they weren’t satisfied with the energy there.
I couldn’t wait forever.
But I had to wait for my mother. I had to hope she would get free.
I watched the bend in the road, waiting for her to run around it, into my view.
She didn’t appear.
I had no way of knowing if my mother was okay or not.
The back of my neck broke out in a sweat. I should yell for her. But what if I did that, and it made the ghosts realize that I was out here, and they left the motorhome, and then all of this had been for nothing?
Maybe it was a risk I had to take.
I opened my mouth to call out her name.
And there she was, stumbling down the road toward me.
“Mom!” I yelled.
She kept coming, nearly tripping over her feet.
I lit the trail of gasoline. “Stay back!” I yelled. I ran for her, yanking her out of the way.
The flames licked over the ground, heading back toward the motorhome.
“Deacon,” she whispered. “Deacon, what’s going on?”
I tugged her to her feet. “We have to run,” I said.
We were halfway down the road when the thing exploded.
CHAPTER THIRTY
It worked.
Mads said it had worked. That when the motorhome was destroyed, the incarnations the ghosts had been clinging to were destroyed with it. They flitted out, blank pieces of energy, searching for something else to latch onto.
Some of them did come for me, Mads said, but she managed to keep them off. The others were thrown wide by the explosion.
For my part, my mother and I took off in my truck, dragging the Airstream behind us. We went the opposite way of the burning motorhome. And we called the fire department as soon as we got to a phone. We didn’t want to start a forest fire or something.
I was exhausted. I’d been drained by those ghosts, and I hadn’t completely recharged when I went running down the road. We checked into the campground that the police detective had told us about and I promptly went to sleep.
Apparently, I slept for fifteen hours. At least, that’s what my mother said. She spent the time trying to save the stuff from the fridge that hadn’t already gone bad. She tried to cook me something to eat, but all her cooking skills seemed to be gone. I guessed the amusement park had influenced her to do that, all part of its seduction to try to keep us there. Those had been some hungry ghosts.
We went out for some food instead.
It turned out that Patrick and Lily were at the campground too. They were afraid to leave town because the detective had asked us not to. They also had been debating turning me in for attempted murder.
My mother talked to them while I was asleep. I’m not sure what she said to them, but she convinced them not to press charges against me. Neither of them were real keen on spending time with me, though, so I didn’t actually see them. Everything I found out about them was relayed to me from my mother. Patrick and Lily didn’t want to pay my mother for her services, and she didn’t press them for the cash. She said she understood that the experience had been too harrowing for them to feel as though they had been well served.
But I pointed out to her that they’d gotten all their answers about their sister. Molly had been killed in the park by some pervert who had then taken their mother’s jewelry. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t found out what they came for.
This was one of the things we discussed over our meal at the diner in town after I slept for fifteen hours. While we were eating there, the police detective sauntered up to our table. He had some questions about the motorhome we’d left burning out there.
“It was an accident,” my mother said to him.
“It was pretty clearly doused in gasoline,” said the detective.
“Is there a fine a for burning a motorhome, sir?” I said.
He pressed his lips into a firm line. “Well, not as such, I don’t suppose. But it is a public nuisance, and it’s in the middle of that road out there.”
“The road that only goes to the abandoned amusement park that’s private property,” I said.
“You got a point, boy?” he said.
“We’ll have it removed,” I said. “Soon as we can.”
“See that you do,” he said.
“Uh, about Oscar Milton?” I said. Now that I wasn’t being influenced by the spirits in the amusement park, I felt pretty awful about what had happened to Oscar. He hadn’t deserved the end he’d received, and I wanted to do what I could for him now, even though he was gone.
“What about him?”
“Well, if there are arrangements that need to be made for his body, or—”
“We already contacted his wife, and he’s been transported back to her and his children.”
“He had a wife?” said my mother, horrified. “Children?”
“Yes,” said the police detective, giving her a funny look.
“He… he never told me that,” said my mother, drawing in a breath.
Well, well. I knew there was a reason I didn’t like that guy. Still, even if he hadn’t been a great person, he hadn’t deserved that death. I felt responsible, and that heaviness wasn’t going to leave me any time soon.
The detective eyed us both. “You can both leave town, I suppose. I’d rather not have you around any longer. Lord knows what worse trouble you’d cause.”
“Thanks,” said my mother.
He didn’t respond, just left.
Once he was gone, I turned back to my mother. “I’m sorry about Oscar. They killed him for me.”
“You aren’t responsible for what happened back there,” she said.
Maybe not, but it still felt shitty. “I’m sorry about the motorhome,” I said. “You’d had that thing for a long time.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “You saved my life, killing the motorhome instead of me. I’m grateful. And it was probably time to get a new motorhome, anyway.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe that the gate was open the whole time. I did it all for nothing.”
I reached across the table for her hand. “You did what you thought you had to. But I’m just glad I still have you.”
She squeezed my hand, eyes filling with tears. “Oh, kiddo, I love you.”
I gave her a lopsided smile. “You going to eat those fries?”
She laughed and pushed the plate across the table to me. “Have at it.”
* * *
“Wait, wait, go back to the part where you had the ax,” said Wade over the phone.
I was outside the Airstream, talking on the phone with him. I’d been out there for a while, explaining everything that had happened in the amusement park. He was finding the story more entertaining than I thought he would.
“Look, nothing happened with the ax,” I said. “I didn’t actually ax anyone.”
“Yeah, but you were about to,” he said. “And then, did you really torch your mother’s motorhome?”
“Yes, I had to. It was the only way,” I said.
“Man, I really should have come down there and seen all this. It sounds positively insane,” he said.
I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. Pretty crazy.”
“And now, what? There’s nothing there?” he said. “The whole park has no more energy?”
“Well, it seems that way,” I said. Mads had said so. She said that everything was gone from the place. And it did seem different there. It seemed… dead. “When we went out to show the guy with the tow truck where the motorhome was, we went by, and it seemed subdued. But I wasn’t taking any chances. I didn’t go back out there and explore or anything. Maybe there’s something left, and I can’t afford to go crazy anymore.”
“That’s smart, man,” he said. “Better to leave it be.”
“Definitely,” I said. “So, how are things going with you?”
“Charlotte’s engaged,” he said.
“What?” I almost dropped the phone. Charlotte had been really adamant about not wanting to be tied down.
“Yeah, totally weird,” he said. “She just met the guy, and she’s got this big rock on her finger and everything. She’s still in college. It all seems premature to me. I’m trying not to take it personally. Like she didn’t just get into a committed relationship to keep me away.”
“You haven’t been stalking Charlotte, have you?”
“What? No. Would I do that?”
I laughed. “I don’t know. Would you?”
“You’re probably still in mourning for Olivia, I guess.”
Hell, I hadn’t given Olivia a thought in ages. Funny. I thought she was the love of my life. Unrequited love cut short by her death and tragedy and all that… And now, it was like she hadn’t existed. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I don’t mean to bring her up. I don’t know why I—”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I do miss her.”
“Me too,” he said.
I squared my shoulders. “Uh, what about Rylan? You seen her lately?”
“Yeah, a couple times at the coffee shop when she’s working,” he said. “She says she’s working on a big shoot for her youtube channel. Says it’s going to be a series of videos. It’s, like, a haunted campground or something? I don’t know. She thinks it’ll be the video to take her to the big time.”
I laughed. “If you see her again, tell her good luck from me.”
“Sure, sure,” said Wade. “You could tell her yourself. You could swing back this way and visit again. I wouldn’t mind seeing you.”
“Nah, not yet,” I said. “I didn’t end up finding anything out about Negus. It was all a big trick from the park. So, I still have to find some answers. Negus is still out there, and he’s still looking for me. I don’t know why, and I don’t know who he is or what he wants.”
“Right,” said Wade. “Good luck with that.”
“Thanks,” I said.
* * *
“Here,” said my mother, her voice triumphant. She was sitting at the table in the Airstream, and she’d borrowed my laptop about a half hour ago, only to type and scroll furiously on it while ignoring me.
I was lounging on my bed. We were going to have to talk about what our next move was, me and my mom. I was glad that she wasn’t dead and all, and I wanted her in my life, but this Airstream was not big enough for the both of us. I had a cot that I could set up over top of the table for her to sleep on, so it was okay for now, but it would get old fast, both of us on top of each other.
Of course, she’d lost all her worldly possessions in that motorhome, and she had to start over from practically zero. She had money, of course, in the bank, and maybe it wasn’t all of her worldly possessions, considering she kept several storage units in various places around the country. It wasn’t going to be a picnic for her, but she was going to be able to pick herself back up. I’d help her, of course. We were family.
Still, we should talk about how that was going to happen at some point. I just wasn’t really sure how to bring it up.
“What?” I said.
“Come here,” she said. “Look at this.”
I got up and went over to the table. I slid in next to her and she jammed a finger against the screen.
There was a picture of a girl there. It was her Facebook profile. Dominique Carlson. She was five years younger than me or so, a pretty girl with blond hair and brown eyes.
“That’s her,” said my mother.
“That’s who?” I said.
“When I was possessed by that thing, it found pictures of this girl. It had an email address, and it would make me log in and look at them. It took me a while to remember her name, but I kept thinking about it, and eventually I did. I knew if I saw a picture of her, I’d know. This is her.”
I furrowed my brow. “Wait a second, Negus looked at pictures of this girl?”
“Yeah, she was only four or five back then, but I recognize her. The thing inside me would stare at her for a long, long time. Just pull up picture after picture. And look at them over and over again.”
“Why?”
“Well, I don’t know,” she said. “But I know you wanted information about that thing, and that was why you went so crazy back in the park. So, I thought if you track this girl down, maybe that could help you.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Yeah, maybe.” I turned to her. “Thanks, Mom. This is really good.”
She smiled. “Not a problem. Also, your uncle is looking to sell a Fleetwood, so if you could take me up to Woodstock, I’d be grateful.”
“Wait, Uncle Bill?” I said. “I didn’t think you spoke to him anymore.” There had been some kind of family rift back when I was like twelve or so. I had no idea what that had been about, but I hadn’t seen him since.
“Well, he’s going to give me a good deal,” she said. “And after what happened, I’m starting to feel my mortality. Maybe I should tie up any loose ends in my life in case I die tomorrow, you know?”
I nodded slowly.
She put an arm around me. “Oh, kiddo, I would stay with you forever, I really would, but this Airstream just isn’t big enough for the two of us.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Do you know anything about the girl?” I said to Mads. My mother was asleep inside the Airstream. I was outside. It was late, sometime after midnight. No one was watching. I finally had privacy to talk to Mads. Tomorrow, we’d be driving to upstate New York so that she could buy herself a new motorhome from my uncle. I was probably going to be exhausted if I didn’t get to bed soon.
“I don’t know anything,” said Mads.
“But what could it mean?” I said. “Why would he be interested in this girl?”
She spread her hands. “It could mean anything. It’s very strange.”
I sighed. “I guess I’ll have to try to figure it out.”
“Just be careful, Deacon,” said Mads. “The closer you get to Negus, the more danger you’re in.”
I laughed a little. “It seems like I’m in danger every time I turn around lately.”
She inclined her head. “This is true. You’ve been scaring me to death these past few weeks.”
“To death?” I grinned at her.
She laughed. “You know what I mean.”
I eyed her. “You know, I really missed you. It was not cool, your being stuck outside like that.”
“It made me crazy,” she said.
“Well, I would like it if that didn’t happen again,” I said.
“You have to know that if something is powerful enough to block me like that, it’s probably bad news.”
“Noted,” I said. “I was so intent on finding out information about Negus,
I got ahead of myself. I wasn’t careful.”
“Well, they tricked you,” she said.
“I’ll be on my guard next time. Fool me once, right?”
“Right,” she said.
I looked away, jamming my hands into my pockets. The sky was just as dark and star-studded as it had been the night before. I gazed up at it and tried to figure out how to say what it was that I really wanted to say to her. “The thing with the Tunnel of Love? It was the real you, wasn’t it? They didn’t trick me then?”
She didn’t say anything.
I looked up at her.
She wouldn’t meet my gaze, looking shy. “Let’s not bring that up again.”
“It was real.”
“No, it was a trick,” she said. “We can’t really touch.”
“But you felt it, and I felt it. So, it was as good as real.”
“Deacon…” She gave me a helpless look. “You shouldn’t think of me that way.”
“What way?”
“Like a…” She twisted her hands together. “I’ve been wearing more clothes. You haven’t noticed.”
I realized she was in a pair of baggy jeans and a turtleneck. “Hey.” I reached out for her out of instinct, even though I knew I couldn’t touch her.
She shied away from my hand, so we were spared watching my fingers go right through her.
I put my hand back in my pocket. “You wear whatever you want,” and my voice seemed to have gotten ridiculously deep.
She shook her head. “It’s not a game anymore. It’s only making us both disappointed. Frustrated. Sad. So, we need to let it all go. I’m nothing to you, Deacon, do you get that? I’m nothing at all.”
“Mads, that’s not true,” I said.
But she was gone, flickered off without even saying goodbye.
I glowered up at the stars.
* * *
When I came back into the Airstream, my mother was sitting up on her cot. “Can’t you sleep?”
“No,” I said. It was easier to say that than to try to explain anything else.
“Want me to sing to you?” she said, smiling. “I always used to, when you were little. Then you got too old. I’d try to sing to you and you’d tell me to stop.”
