Morbid Curiosity
Page 6
and open my door. I don’t check who it is first. Stupid move number one.
“Are you Mr. Steven Bowes?” an officer asks me.
“Yeah,” I say and feel three other cops creeping around the side of my house. “Is this about the vampire?” Stupid move number two.
“You are under the arrest for the murder of Louise Oliver-Bowes...” he begins before I slam the door in his face. I walk back to the kitchen and unbind Louise.
“Asshole,” she says as she stands. “They think I killed you,” I tell her. “Why?” “I don’t know” she lies.
“Did you happen to visit your boyfriend last night?” I ask her. She looks away. I dive onto her and place my hands on her head. I watch her entire night in fast forward. I see my home being trashed while I’m sleeping. I see her slam a lamp on my head. I see her drag me out of bed. I see her at Tony’s place scrawling on a note about our meetings at the motel and her subsequent murder. She didn’t say that I killed her, but she did not not say I killed her. Implied murder is just as damaging as actual murder with my reputation. Her mind is blank for a time. I assume she found Beth during this time in a place I cannot see. Now she’s back in my kitchen holding Beth and crying. “You idiot.”
“I did what I had to,” she says.
“So will I,” I say as I place my hand on her heart and close my eyes. I feel her try to scratch me, bite my arms, and kick at me. I open my eyes and she’s gone. I don’t know where she’s gone but I have an idea. The cops are banging on my door, trying to smash it in. It’s time to call in some favors. I walk into my living room and watch as my door is bending. A few more hits and they are going to be all over me. There’s a couple of spirits I know very well. Two of the angriest, strongest spirits I’ve ever known.
“Mom and dad, I need you.”
They appear, ready to fight. In life they loved me in their own special way. In death their strange form of love is powerful. They look now as they did when they died: sick. Each of them died of cancer within months of each other. Once they died I knew they would be powerful. That much hate is hard to destroy. I also know that they’re afraid to cross over. Once you die all your sins in life are played before you like some sort of On Demand of shame. I keep them away from the light, they help me out when I need it.
“I want you two to go berserk,” I tell them. They look at me confused. “I am about to be arrested for a murder I didn’t commit. I need you to stop these guys from getting me while I figure out what to do.”
The police break through the door and I smile.
The cops manage to smash their way though my door and have all their guns aimed at me. My parents do what I tell them to. The guns go flying from the policeman’s hands and they are very surprised. I mean, they can't be too surprised, right? They know who I am. Sure, most of them think I’m a crackpot who robs crazy old ladies for their money by getting rid of ghosts that aren't there but there are a few that not only like me, but have used me.
“The hell?!” one of them shouts as my dad shoves him out the door. My mom is trying but not hard enough. I think she needs some motivation.
“Don’t forget the light, mom,” I remind her. She looks at me and starts screaming. I can't hear a word she’s saying. This is a tremendous blessing. For as religious she and dad were when they were alive the idea of possibly going to Hell terrifies them more in death. Mom gets the power of Hercules and shoves the rest of them out. I rush upstairs and grab a coat, stepping over all the garbage my ex wife and now oblivion occupier Louise left everywhere. I can hear the police crash through the kitchen door.
I climb out my window and there’s a parade of ghosts all laughing at me. They mingle with the police cars and are cheering with them. Assholes. Right now it’s hard to tell the living from the dead. The police fire a shot that misses me by inches. I climb back inside. I need to figure out what to do real quick. If I end up in jail I’ll never sleep. Those places are filled with ghosts.
“Come out with your hands up!” one of them shouts.
“Aren’t you supposed to say that before shooting at me?!” I shout back. “Mom. Dad.” They appear in front of me flickering as only angry ass ghosts can. “Blow every piece of glass at these guys. I need to escape.” Immediately they get to work. I can hear everyone running for cover. I climb out the shattered window, drop to the ground rolling my ankle in the process, and get over my neighbors fence and start limping away.
After I get a few blocks away I check into this seedy motel. The kind that don’t ask questions. The kind that guys who are accused of murdering their ex wives check into. As I’m walking through the hallways I am bombarded with ghosts. I just wanna be left alone so I touch each one that gets close enough sending them away. I get into my room and a young guy is hanging from the ceiling. He used an extension cord from a lamp. I ignore him and lay on a bed that was made for Klingons.
“You gonna say anything?” he asks me. I close my eyes. He drops down and sits next to me. “Wanna know why I did this?” I don’t. I really don’t. This is what I hate about most ghosts. They all think they’re interesting. They all have a story to tell.
“Well, one day I…”
“Shut up” I tell him. “I need to think.”
“We all need to think,” he says. “I wish I had. All I wanted was attention from my girlfriend. But she…”
“Doesn’t know you’re even dead. Got it.” I sit up and look at him. He looks about 19. Maybe 20. Stupid kid. “What did you expect? You can't kill yourself in a no tell motel and expect sympathy. And hanging? So cliché. That's the problem with you kids. No originality.”
“What would you have done?” he asks. He flickers for a moment. He’s getting upset. The last thing I need right now is a pissed off ghost throwing things around and drawing attention to me.
“Nothing,” I tell him as I limp to the mini-fridge and get a couple of ice cubes. Literally a couple. I put them on my ankle and wince. “I’d never kill myself. Offers get an automatic ticket to Hell.” God, I sound like my parents.
“Then I’ll just stay here then” he says and smiles at me.
I don’t want everyone to think I’m some kinda uncaring monster. I dare say I care too much. I have seen things that would drive people insane. Yet here I am totally in control of my mental health. When I see someone suffering I care sometimes. Like, a few weeks ago for example. I saw an old man sitting at a bus stop. He was half dead. His spirit was literally hanging halfway out of his body but he refused to let it go. His spirit was trying to shove itself away but the old guy just held on tight. I parked my car, sat next to him, and yanked his spirit out.
The two don’t always get along, the body and spirit. There are some bad people that try to do well and some good people that end up doing bad and they just don’t know why. I do. It’s because no matter how hard we try we can't fight our true nature. We see it all the time with celebrities and such. The girl who at 16 has everything you could have ever dreamed of but for some reason she is compelled to drive drunk or do coke. The athlete that fought his way out of the ghetto only to do the very thing he battled his entire life to get away from. The mother that always wanted to have kids but once they did drowns them in a bathtub.
You know. Normal stuff.
When the mind and spirit are at war nothing good can happen. My mind and spirit are at peace. It took years of thinking and many bottles of liquor but I finally did it. I remember at my first AA meeting there was this guy. Said he was afraid to get behind the wheel of a vehicle again after killing a little girl. What he left out was that he had actually killed about a dozen people before he got to her. I knew this because they were all surrounding him and screaming. They noticed me notice them and started screaming for me to say something. I blocked them out and tried to listen to what the guy was saying. After he was done talking I was close to doing something about it. Turns out he was a really bad guy.
I’m not Dexter or Odd Thomas, okay? I don’t spend my days righting wrongs and trying t
o bring justice to the world. I just try to do enough to pay rent and make the occasional trip to Mexico. Great liquor down there but way too many ghosts. You know how else I know I care and having feelings? I miss my sister. If I had known how to control what I can do back then she would still…
“I’m trying to share with you and you’re off in another world!” this kid screams at me. He sounds like my ex wife.
“The last person that said that to me is dead,” I tell him.
“So is the person you’re saying it to now,” he tells me. Touché. “Man, all I want is some company right now. Can you talk to me?”
“I have my own stuff to deal with, kid,” I tell him. “I know that you know who I am and what’s going on right now. Let me deal with my own shit, alright? Just climb back up there and dangle. Its cute the way your tongue hangs out and your eyes bulge.”
“You’re a real asshole,” he says and starts flickering again. He jumps up and grabs a lamp shattering it against a wall. Damn it. I rush towards him and he disappears.
“Fucking kids,” I say to myself. I wonder what my daughter Beth would be like if she were still alive. I never wanted to be a dad. When Louise told me that she was pregnant I wondered if it was mine. We had so much unprotected sex with no results I figured it was God’s way of cleaning my gene