The Dunewalkers (Moving In Series Book 2)

by Ron Ripley

  Leo smiled. “Thank you very much.”

  “You’re welcome, Leo,” Matthew said, extending his hand over the counter. “And you’ve got a good, strong name, son.”

  “Yes,” Leo said, feeling strangely proud suddenly. “Yes. My father loves the Spartans.”

  “Don’t we all,” Matthew smiled.

  Leo could think of no reply, so he nodded.

  Matthew chuckled, picked up the bag containing the shells and a cleaning kit and handed it to Leo. Leo accepted it, took up the box with the shotgun in it and said. “Thank you, Matthew, and goodbye. I will tell Bob and Evan at Boylan Firearms what you said.”

  “I know you will,” Matthew said with a grin. “Goodbye, Leo.”

  Leo held his new purchases tightly and left the store.

  He needed to drive to Manchester to learn how to shoot his shotgun.

  He had bigger things to worry about than raccoons.

  The dead were coming for him.

  Chapter 43: Visiting Leo’s Library

  Sylvia’s looked worried and frightened when she opened the door for Jeannette.

  “Sylvia,” Jeannette said, stepping into the building. “What’s wrong?”

  “Come this way, Jeannette,” Sylvia said, giving her a tight smile. “I’ll tell you in a moment. Brian and Jenny just arrived as well, and they need to know also.”

  Jeannette waited for Sylvia to lock up, and then she followed her former student along a wide, brightly lit aisle between rows of metal bookshelves. Jeannette could feel a faint hint of Leo among the gathered books.

  He spent so much time here, she realized. These were everything to him.

  She had known it to be true, not only from the few conversations they had shared after his passing but from the way he spoke of books when she first met him. He had always been so passionate about them.

  Yet even the way he had described what he collected to her paled to the sense of warmth and security which exuded from the library.

  Within a few moments, they reached the far end of the building, turned to the right and found Brian and Jenny sitting in folding chairs at a small table. A coffee urn, flanked by four mugs, occupied the place of honor in front of Brian.

  “Hello,” Jeannette said, sitting down. Brian and Jenny returned the greeting as Sylvia took her place at the table.

  “Before we begin,” Sylvia said in a somber tone, “I want to tell you I spoke with Leo earlier. Our conversation was interrupted, however, by the arrival of someone rather unpleasant.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Jeannette could see Brian stiffen.

  Sylvia saw it as well, and she nodded. “Yes. Paul Kenyon was in the building.”

  Jeannette listened intently as Sylvia described the young, malicious ghost and what had occurred. When Sylvia finished, there was silence, finally broken by Brian.

  “I saw Leo’s grandmother outside the barn at home,” he said.

  Jeannette looked at him sharply. “When?”

  “Before we left. So, I guess about forty-five minutes ago?” he looked at Jenny, who nodded her agreement.

  Jeannette started to ask another question when she felt something cold slide along her back. A lump formed in her throat, and she offered up a quick and silent prayer to the Virgin Mary.

  “Jesus it’s cold in here,” Jenny said.

  Jeannette looked past the younger woman and nodded. “It will be getting colder, I’m afraid.”

  Sylvia turned slightly in her seat, and let out a gasp.

  “What?” Brian and Jenny asked simultaneously. Each of them twisted around fully.

  “What are you two looking at?” Brian asked. “What do you see?”

  “Florence,” Jeannette said in a whisper. “It has been such a long time.”

  Chapter 44: Leo, May 11th, 2005

  Leo was ready.

  He sat in the recently converted building he had purchased at the beginning of the year. Empty metal bookshelves were set out in neat rows, and Leo felt a distinct thrill of excitement at the prospect of filling those shelves with books. Over the past year, he had begun helping ghosts move on from private homes and facilities. It was a profitable experience when he worked with people who were less than pleasant.

  He had no compulsion about accepting fees from those individuals.

  The work was not always easy. Occasionally he ran into ghosts who didn’t want to leave, but for the safety of all involved, he removed them anyway. There were others, such as Caleb and the grandmother in Hollis, whom he forced out immediately. And some of the dead avoided him and promised to hunt him down.

  The shotgun on Leo’s lap was for those special occasions. This was one of them.

  They were dead teenagers from the sixties. The pair had settled into a nursing home where they were tormenting the elderly residents. Leo had pushed the two boys out of the building, but they told him they would follow him home.

  And they did.

  So Leo waited.

  With his barriers against the dead erected, and salt laid down across the thresholds, he was still fully aware of a persistent ghost’s ability to always find a way in.

  The shotgun was necessary to dissuade the dead who found a way around the barriers from staying.

  The door at the front of the first floor opened slightly, and one of the teenagers stepped in. He was tall, wore a leather jacket over a brilliant white tee shirt, jeans, motorcycle boots, and slicked back hair. The spirit’s face was pocked with scars from either acne or chickenpox, and his face was set in a permanent arrogant sneer.

  Where is the friend? Leo wondered. He remained perfectly still and from where he sat with his back in a corner, the entire floor was visible. Leo had an old tarp draped over him, and empty boxes stacked high around him. To the ghosts and anyone else, he was a pile of junk in the corner. He had read about hunting blinds from some book or another, and he hoped his own urban style construction would be good enough.

  From a small vent near the top of the left wall, the second teenager slipped in. He looked like a cheap cartoon effect, a character squeezed out of the narrow slits to form fully on the tiled floor.

  This boy was dressed identically to the first, but where his friend was tall and thin the second was shorter, perhaps by as much as a foot, yet was slimmer.

  “Where is he?” the second ghost asked.

  The first one closed the door and shrugged. “He has to be here somewhere.”

  Leo watched the two of them look quickly around the large room. Finally, the two made their way to the center aisle and stood together.

  “There are more floors,” the tall ghost said.

  The shorter one nodded. “There’s a door to the stairs, and there’s also an elevator. I’ll take the stairs.”

  “Cool,” the taller one said. They walked side by side towards the elevator.

  Leo waited. He was in the corner to the right of the lift. The door to the stairs was to the left.

  The dead came to a stop, and as they turned to talk, Leo stood.

  They twisted around in surprise, snarled, and then laughed as Leo brought his shotgun up to his shoulder exactly as Evan and Bob Boylan had taught him.

  “We’re already dead!” the shorter one yelled gleefully.

  Leo pulled the trigger on the right barrel, and the taller of the two ghosts vanished with a horrific scream.

  The remaining spirit looked at Leo, his eyes wide and confused.

  “Rock salt,” Leo explained and pulled the second trigger.

  He lowered the shotgun, broke the weapon open, removed the hot shells carefully and dropped them to the floor. He reached into his jacket’s pocket, removed a pair of shells and reloaded.

  Leo looked at the rock salt scattered across the floor where it had cut through the dead. He frowned, shouldered the shotgun and thought, I need to buy a broom.

  Chapter 45: William Takes a Stroll

  William had completely lost track of time.

  His phone was dead. The
laptop would no longer power-up.

  He had fallen asleep several times, none of which helped him figure out if was day or night beyond the dark glass of the windows.

  The dead, at least, had finally left him alone.

  As he sat in the darkness, William contemplated suicide. It would be a spiteful yet positive act against Kathleen and her gaggle of ghosts. But there was one problem.

  If he killed himself, Helen would find his body and William didn’t want her to suffer. She had already buried her son and William was certain part of her saw him as a son as well.

  With a sigh, William stood up, lit a cigarette from his limited supply, and looked out the window.

  The stars shined down upon the dunes, the moon high in the sky.

  Hot damn! William thought, and he ran for the door. The pins for the hinges were on the floor where he had thrown them, and he kicked them aside. He grabbed hold of the metal loops and with a grunt he pulled back.

  The door sprang free, wood groaning as the lock popped.

  He threw himself through the opening and leaped off of the stairs.

  “No!” someone shrieked behind him.

  He tried to reach his truck but a dark shadow appeared, and all four of his tires exploded. William twisted away and sprinted for the dunes.

  “No, William!” he heard Kathleen yell. “No! Stay out of them!”

  William ignored her and plunged headlong into the tall grass. Far in the distance, he saw the lights of Kennebunk Port. His breath exploded in great white clouds as his boots dug into the snow covered sand and the dead grass whipped at him.

  And behind him, William heard a series of shrill joyous whoops.

  He didn’t need to look behind him to know what was there.

  The Abenaki were chasing him.

  Chapter 46: Meeting an Old Friend

  Florence, Leo’s grandmother, moved easily in and out of form.

  She solidified and looked at them.

  The woman was regal. There was no other way to describe her. She wore her silver hair pinned back and the dress she had on was black, elegantly cut.

  Brian could see the power in her face, could feel her strength as it emanated out from her. He wasn’t as surprised she had survived the battle in the kitchen, but he was extremely disappointed about the fact.

  She was upset.

  Not at them, Brian knew, but at Leo. It didn’t matter to her if Leo was dead. She still wanted to hurt her grandson for all the hurt he had caused her.

  “Hello, Florence,” Jeannette said.

  Florence’s eyes locked onto Jeannette. A moment later recognition flashed across her face. “Jeannette. A pleasure, dear. Look at that, we are finally the same age. You have a poor choice of friends.”

  Brian wanted to see what Jeannette’s reaction was to the statement, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Leo’s grandmother.

  “Not at all, Florence,” Jeannette responded. “I’ve known Sylvia only a little longer than I knew Leonidas. And as for Brian and Jenny, well, they’re quite pleasant. I rather like them.”

  Florence’s expression grew colder.

  “A shame, then, Jeannette,” the ghost said. “I had hoped I would not need to harm you.”

  “I don’t believe you shall,” Jeannette said firmly. “This isn’t your place, Florence, and we will not sit here and allow you to harm us.”

  Florence gave a small smile. “I did not say you would allow it. I make the decision here, Jeannette. Not you. Not this curious hippy, nor her odd friends. All of you will suffer for the crimes of my grandson.”

  “Excuse me,” Jenny said.

  Florence looked at her.

  “Hi,” Jenny said cheerfully, “my name’s Jenny and --”

  “I don’t care, child,” Florence said. “Your name is of no consequence to me.”

  “It should be,” Jenny said, standing up. She balled her hands into fists. “It really should be.”

  Leo’s grandmother smiled at her. In a soft voice, she asked, “Are you challenging me, girl?”

  “No,” Jenny said, returning the smile. “Not at all. I’m distracting you.”

  Motion caught Brian’s eye and he looked to the left.

  Sylvia had gotten up and slipped over to a wall-box for a fire extinguisher. She had also managed to open it, and it was the movement of the door Brian had seen.

  “I’m not on fire, dear,” Florence said.

  “I’m not trying to put a fire out,” Sylvia answered as she reached into the cavity. From its depths, she pulled out a double barrel shotgun. She leveled the weapon and cocked it.

  “And I can’t be shot.” The ghost’s voice was full of disdain. “You’re a very stupid girl, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe,” Sylvia answered. “Maybe not.” and she pulled the triggers.

  The sound of the dual blasts was terrific in the confines of the room. Brian turned away instinctively, the flash from the muzzles seared into his eyes.

  When his vision cleared and while his ears rang he looked from Sylvia to Florence and stopped.

  Florence was gone.

  The wall behind her was peppered with small dots. Tiny paint chips littered the floor as did something else.

  “What?” he asked, confused as he looked back to Sylvia.

  Sylvia grinned at them all as she lowered the shotgun.

  “Rock salt,” she said. “I read about it in Leo’s journal. He kept the shotgun here, just in case.”

  “Rock salt,” Jenny murmured.

  Brian looked at the wall again and thought about how just a moment before Leo’s dead grandmother had been prepared to finish them all.

  “Well,” he said, looking at the others. “I think we may want to get some more rock salt, and a few more shotguns.”

  Chapter 47: Playing Hide and Seek

  The houses were gone.

  The lights of Kennebunk Port were gone.

  The Abenaki, however, were still in the grass.

  William was cold. His coat and hat and gloves were in the beach house. William was hunkered down in a slight depression of a dune. A short distance in front of him was a longboat he had found. He had flipped it over to make it seem as if he hid beneath it.

  He watched the boat, and he waited.

  A short time passed, and the first of the Indians arrived. As the warrior advanced towards the boat on silent feet, a second Abenaki appeared. Together they reached the boat, threw it back with their tomahawks raised, and then let out a stream of angry words which William could only assume were curses.

  Within a few moments another pair of men arrived, and a heartbeat after, a fifth stepped in to join the others. They argued amongst themselves for a short while before they came to some sort of agreement. Four of the men walked into the grass while the fifth turned the boat back over and moved cautiously to where William hid.

  The man stopped a few steps in front of William and turned his back to him. The Indian crouched down, his musket slung barrel down over his back. The man wore thick leathers and a rank, sour odor emanated from him.

  William understood the Abenaki was real. Wherever William might be, the man in front of him was real.

  And he wanted to kill William.

  William watched as the Indian switched his tomahawk from his right hand to his left and scratched the back of his head.

  William sprang forward.

  He locked his hands together and smashed them into the side of the Abenaki’s neck as the man twisted, his eyes wide in surprise. The man tumbled to the side and tried to bring his tomahawk up, but he was clumsy with it in his left hand.

  William knocked the weapon free as he dropped down, both of his knees planted solidly on the Indian’s biceps. As the man bucked and struggled William crossed his hands as best he could, and he choked the warrior to death.

  It took a long time for the warrior to die.

  William’s hands throbbed with pain. Forcing himself to breathe slowly, William stripped the Abenaki of his animal
hide clothing. The garment stank, but it was thick, and it was warm. He took the man’s musket, but he didn’t bother with the powder horn. William had no idea as to how to use the weapon, but it could serve as a club.

  He also took a knife he found in the man’s belt and the tomahawk. In a pouch, William found a pair of fur-lined mittens, and he pulled them on.

  William paused and listened, but he didn’t hear anything.

  I’ll find you soon enough, William thought. But I need to take care of Sonny boy first.

  William grabbed the dead man by his ankles and dragged him to the boat. Quietly he stuffed the body underneath it.

  For a moment, William crouched by the makeshift grave and then he smiled to himself. He picked a trail in the grass left by one of the Abenaki, and he followed it.

  A gentle snow started to fall, and William started to hunt the hunters.

  Chapter 48: What to do about Paul

  The four of them were crowded into Leo’s former apartment.

  Jeannette sat on a folding chair brought up from the first floor while Brian and Jenny sat on Leo’s bunk. Sylvia sat in what had been Leo’s chair.

  “You found something personal of Paul’s?” Jeannette asked, looking at Brian.

  The man nodded, reached into a pocket of his coat and withdrew a small, lead soldier. The toy was worn from years of play, and Jeannette could sense the malice pulsing out of it, a wave of hate pushing at her.

  “Yes,” Jeannette said with a nod. “It will work. Now, I want to tell you about a couple I know. I believe they can help us.”

  “How?” Jenny asked.

  “When we bind Paul to his toy we will have a new problem,” Jeannette replied. “Who among us is going to continue the binding spell? From what you have told me, Paul is no shrinking violet. He is nearly as strong as Florence, really quite a disturbing thought.”

  All three of the others nodded their heads.