"I love it. It gives you a rush. There's nothing better than an insane hot sauce." She smiled and glanced at her shoes, and her smile faded.
"Are you okay?" I asked her.
She nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."
"Okay. Well, I have to pay for this and gas, so I should go." I stepped away from her, totally weirded out and headed for the counter.
"Will you do one thing for me?" she called out. I set my Cheetos on the counter and glanced back at her.
"Tell them all I'm okay?"
"What?" I asked.
"I didn't say anything," the clerk said, tapping the counter to get my attention.
I looked at him, confused. "Not you, I-" I stopped when the TV caught my attention. "Can you turn this up?"
The clerk sighed, annoyed, and leaned for the remote. The volume increased and I heard the local sheriff talking about a series of missing people in the state. "The latest to go missing is our own Cathy Milford. She's twenty-two and a waitress. She has family that's very worried about her. Please, if you know anything, don't hesitate to call us." They flashed a picture of Cathy on the screen and I dropped the dollar bills that were in my hand. I whipped around and scanned the store. Cathy was the fiery red head I had just been talking to, and now she was gone.
"You gonna get those?" The clerk leaned over and looked at the money on the floor. "It's $15.06 with the gas."
"You didn't see...She was just-"
"$15.06," he repeated, looking bored.
I grabbed the money and shoved a $20 in his hands before rushing out of the store. I looked all around the parking lot, but it was empty and I didn't remember hearing the door open. I got back in my car and shuddered. Two nights later there was breaking local news. They had found Cathy's week-old body in a riverbed.
*
I sat around the house for the next couple of days, afraid to go outside and see anyone. I couldn't tell that Cathy was a ghost. I thought I was talking to a person. How would I know if I was talking to a person or to thin air and looking crazy?
"Pippa? You feel like going to the mall with me?" my mom asked. I looked up at her from my permanent spot on the couch.
"Uh, I don't know. I'm kind of tired."
"You haven't been out much lately. You need some air and I need some kind of figurine to give your Aunt Darcy for her birthday next week."
"Just re-gift one she's given you. You hate them and she'll never know."
"She's obsessed with them, Pippa, of course she'll know. Now come on. I'm not asking this time."
I groaned, but got up and put my shoes on.
The mall was packed and noisy. I kept my eyes on the floor so I couldn't potentially spot a ghost. We got pretzels and then walked into the fairly empty knick-knack store and I stood in the corner and ate my salty treat while my mom browsed the figurines. Aunt Darcy loved the porcelain babies and dogs, but she had almost every one in the store. My mom would have to get creative.
"What about this alligator?" She held up a bright green glass alligator with a hopeful look.
I shook my head and she frowned. She went to the next aisle. A flicker made me look up from my pretzel. There had been a quick flash of darkness and my limbs tingled with adrenaline. I quickly walked next to my mom.
"Squirrel? Whale? Monkey? She has all these babies and dogs. Jesus Christ, why is our family so weird," she muttered.
I swallowed hard and fought back salty bile.
"Pippa? You okay?"
I nodded quickly and looked down at my feet. "I'm fine."
She looked at me for a moment, but let it go. "I'm thinking whale."
"Sounds good," I said. I just wanted to go home.
She picked up a blue glass whale and headed to the register. I walked closer to the exit. A light breeze brushed my face and I shuddered at the chill down my spine. I gripped the pretzel tightly and finally looked up. All the snow globes on the wall in front of me were swirling. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my breaths got shallow. My mom walked over grumbling about the price of the whale and I followed her out of the store. Immediately, all the sensations were gone. My heart slowed down but I was still shaky. My mom asked if I wanted to browse any stores. I quickly declined and practically dragged her out of the mall.
*
I spent the next few days doing what any teenager in my got-struck-by-lightning-and-could-now-see-ghosts situation would do: took to the Internet. Apparently one in six people who got struck by lightning reported strange power-like abilities after the strike. Psychic abilities appeared in a couple of articles I read. I read as many articles and stories that I could find, and then my phone buzzed.
Tad's w brothers AGAIN. Netflix?
I frowned at the text from Melissa. I told her in advance about the date with Craig days ago and she hadn't replied with anything. I sent a quick 'Sure' and scrolled through a few more sites. Shadows and voices had been a daily thing now, and I was starting to see more physical things. Things seemed to be progressing quickly, my stress level included. How was I supposed to settle down? What was this, a joke to God?
"Hey," Melissa said, startling me as she walked into my room. "Your mom let me in."
I glanced at the clock and realized half an hour had gone by. "Hey," I replied.
She flopped on my bed and kicked her shoes off. I frowned at them on my carpet. She had been coming over for almost nine years and somehow always forgot we like to keep the house shoe-free.
"What are you Googling?" she asked.
I told her about Ellen's theory in the Olive Garden bathroom and all that Google had found. I told her about my grandma and the missing girl. She nodded a little and glanced at her phone.
"So you're not crazy. That's good," she said.
"Well, yeah. I mean, you know how much death freaks me out so this still isn't, like, ideal. But it makes sense, right? Lightning and death equals something kind of supernatural?"
She nodded, but looked bored.
"Ellen said I should go talk to Dr. Washington. Maybe he knows something. Maybe he has the same thing? It's worth a shot, right? I can't think of anyone else to really reach out to about this." I spun in my desk chair and looked at her.
"Who?" she asked absentmindedly.
"The doctor that was also struck by lightning," I reminded her. "Maybe I can find him online, send him a message." I clicked my way through Facebook for a moment and noticed the lack of Melissa's over-share of her political opinions. I went to her page, got a pit in my stomach, and I looked over at her. "You unfriended me on Facebook?"
"Oh. Yeah. Didn't think you'd notice." She shrugged and pulled out her phone, her eyes locked on its screen.
I stared at her and my heart started to race. "What are you talking about?"
"You're just too negative lately. So I've started, like, unfollowing you everywhere so I don't have to see your posts."
"I was struck by lightning and now I think I'm seeing ghosts. As in dead people. How positive am I supposed to be right now?"
"It's just constant bitching from you lately. It's unbearable."
I gaped at her. I stuck with her through her parents' messy divorce after her dad slept with half the housewives in town; I stuck with her through all the breakups; I was there when she got her rejection letter from Columbia and cried for three days into her cereal; I was always there.
"So, what, we've been best friends for years and now that I'm having a hard time, you can't handle it?"
"Don't get dramatic again, Pippa. I have my own stuff going on, you know? I'm happy with Tad, I got into a good school, and I'm super excited about moving to New York. I'm happy. I don't need you bringing me down with all this constant negativity."
"It's a rough patch," I insisted.
"It's exhausting listening to you talk about the lightning and the ghosts. You need to grow up and handle your shit. See this as your entrance into adulthood," she said.
"Excuse me?"
"Welcome to being an adult.
Life sucks sometimes. Get over it and move on."
My legs shook as the adrenaline coursed through me. How dare she sit in my room and dismiss all my fears and the fact that I had been dead for fourteen minutes. We were supposed to be best friends!
"Welcome to being an adult," I echoed.
She sighed and put her phone back in her pocket, then got up and grabbed her shoes. "Look, I just can't handle dealing with you. Like I said, it's exhausting and super negative."
"I get struck by lightning, die, come back to life and now I see ghosts, and...that means I can't talk to you about it or you're not my friend anymore?" I sat on my hands to try and stop them from shaking.
"See, like that. It's all you, you, you. I'm so over this." She popped a piece of bright pink gum in her mouth, and then grabbed her shoes.
"It's only me, me, me right now! It's been about you for the last eight years and I have always been there for you! What the hell is wrong with you? I died! I'm having, like, a breakdown and seeing ghosts. How are you not sticking with me through this?" I got up and started pacing, my hands moving wildly as I talked.
"Because it's non-stop and I'm tired and you need to grow up. Yeah, you died - but you came back. You're fine now. Jesus, go find a therapist or something, okay? I cannot even deal with this right now." She rolled her eyes at me and then left my room, her feet loud on the steps.
"What the hell is wrong with you!?" I shrieked after her. The front door shut seconds later and I was left pacing and trying not to hyperventilate. I took a few deep breaths and gave her the ten minutes to walk home. I texted a fairly long semi-apology about how I wished she had talked to me about everything instead of just unfollowing me like a child (I didn't say that part) and that if we were friends then we could sort this all out.
She didn't reply.
Half an hour later I discovered she hadn't just unfollowed me from the rest of social media - she had blocked me. Which meant she had probably blocked my number as well. I sat in my room most of the night trying to find ways around her blocks, but it was no use. I had officially lost my best friend.
SIX
Dr. Washington had been on call for thirty-six hours, but he still sat down with me in the cafeteria, coffee in hand, and listened to me carefully explain what I had been seeing and experiencing. He listened intently, nodded at the appropriate times and sipped his coffee. When I was done I looked at him expectantly, ready to run in case he mentioned the fifth floor.
"I think I can help," he finally said.
I paused. "You don't think I'm crazy?"
"Not at all."
"Can you see them, too?" I asked.
"Every now and then I'll get a feeling, I'll see a shadow. But there's not much more than that. I was more on the brink of death. You were dead for fourteen minutes. Your soul or being or whatever you believe in, was gone. When it came back, when you came back, there had to have been a shift inside. That's the way I think of it. The part of you that left in death, the part that came back and found its way back inside you, doesn't fit like it did. It's like a mashed in puzzle piece. It'll fit, but it'll never be quite right."
I set my chin on a closed fist and glanced around the quiet cafeteria. "That's how I feel. Mashed and misfit. So, what do I do now?"
"What do you mean?"
"This is all terrifying. I can barely sleep. I can barely eat. I'm always on edge."
"If you want, I'll give you something to help you sleep. But I can't prescribe away the dead. I don't have a fix for you there."
"I'm sensing a 'but'," I said hopefully.
"Well, I can introduce you to someone. He's an old patient of mine. He has more experience in this department than I do. He sees them more clearly, like you do. He'll be in town tomorrow, actually. I could give you his number, if you like."
"Um, okay. Yeah."
He pulled out his prescription pad and scribbled a number on it and handed it to me. "Where did we land on those sleeping pills?" he asked.
"Yes, please," I said.
SEVEN
I sat in Duke's Diner just one hour after calling the guy. He answered on the first ring and had been really nice. We decided to meet in a public place, and Duke's had the best burgers in town. I parked near the door and got a table shoved in a corner. We agreed to meet at two o'clock and at one fifty-five a pale guy with shaggy blonde hair and a sleeve of tattoos strolled in and looked around. I sat up straighter in my seat, pretty sure it was me he was looking for. His eyes met mine and he walked over. "Pippa?" I nodded and he smiled and sat down.
"Hi," I said.
"Hey. I'm Shazo." He offered his hand and I grimaced slightly at his strong grip.
"Nice to meet you."
"You, too." He set a bag on the floor and then stretched out his long legs. He sighed and then gave me a once over. "So, Dr. Washington gave you my number?"
A waitress with short blonde hair came up and asked if we were ready to order. I ordered a cheeseburger, onion rings, and water. Shazo ordered The Artery Assassin with a chocolate sundae and smiled at the waitress's look of surprise. The waitress stuck her pen behind her ear and walked back to the kitchen where we heard her yell our orders to the cook. I looked at the wall where the specials were written on chalkboard paint.
"Number three, The Artery Assassin," I read out loud. "Triple cheeseburger with coleslaw, fries and special sauce on it, sides of fries, fried pickles, coleslaw, hushpuppies, and onion rings. Also includes a double sundae, flavor of choice."
Shazo shrugged. "It's the best thing here."
"I've never seen anyone eat it before. My friends and I have talked about ordering it, but no one had the guts to fail in front of everyone."
"Well, there will be no failing today, so get a good look," he said with a smile.
I smiled back and relaxed a little into my seat. I had a good feeling about him.
"So," he started. "We only spoke a little on the phone, so why don't you tell me what's going on."
I told him about the party, the lightning, the shadows, voices, and Grandma. I went into greater detail than I had with Dr. Washington. There was no threat of being locked up with Shazo. If he thought I was crazy, I would never have to see him again. He didn't even live here.
"So, how are you feeling about them? The ghosts, I mean," he said. He didn't question my sanity or anything.
"I don't like it," I confessed. "Nothing about this is fun. I mean, I guess it's cool in a way. I'm seeing the dead. But to be honest, I'm terrified of dying and this isn't helping."
He tilted his head and looked at me curiously. "You don't feel a little better about death now that you know for sure that something happens after we die?"
I hesitated. He got me there.
"I hadn't thought of it like that," I admitted.
"It's something to consider. In my experience they don't pop out like in horror movies. I've never met one that wanted to hurt me. Other people, maybe, especially if the deceased was murdered, but never me."
"That makes me feel a little better. I keep checking behind my shower curtain."
He laughed quietly. "I would assume that's normal at first."
"What about you?" I asked. "How do you experience them?"
"Well, mine was more natural. My mom said it started when I was three. I always had imaginary friends and when I got a little older I would recognize those friends in old family photos or sometimes in the news. It freaked her shit. It never stopped, but I stopped telling her about it so much because I knew it scared her."
"Sounds a little easier than it happening overnight."
"Oh, for sure. I don't envy you there," he said with a chuckle.
"So you talk to them?"
"Yeah. Talk to them, listen, help if I can."
"I haven't tried talking to any of them. There was one girl, but I didn't even know she was a ghost," I admitted. I usually ran, hid, or drove past them.
"It's not much different than talking to someone alive. Sometimes their memory isn
't so great. Sometimes they're confused or upset, and don't realize they're dead at first. You just have to go slow and explain things."
I looked at him carefully. "You sound like you do this a lot."
He looked at me, confused. "Well, yeah. It's my job. That's why I'm here, right?"
The waitress came by and dropped off our food. We thanked her, and Shazo immediately popped a fried pickle in his mouth. I looked at my food and suddenly felt a little less hungry. I picked at an onion ring and took a small bite.
"What do you mean?" I asked him.
His eyes narrowed a little. "Dr. Washington didn't-"
"He said you were a good listener and that I might feel better having someone to talk to that understood what I was going through."
"Oh. Okay, well, that's true. And, of course, I'm here if you ever need to talk about what you're seeing. But there's the main reason why I'm here that he apparently skipped over. Don't blame him, he's got a lot going on."
"Well, what is the main reason you're here?"
"To offer you a job."
"A job? Involving ghosts?"
He nodded.
"I don't know," I said hesitantly.
"Just hear me out. If it's not something you'd be interested in, that's not a problem. I just know of a place and an opening."
"Okay. Tell me more."
Shazo took a huge bite of his burger and scooted his chair closer to me. He leaned in and kept his voice low. "Have you heard of Aokigahara?"
I blinked. "The suicide forest in Japan? I think I saw a documentary in school once."
He nodded. "It's not the only one of its kind. It's just the most famous one."
"There's another suicide forest? Where?"
"Here."
"Here in Colorado?"
"No, but in the States. Alabama, to be exact," he said.
I opened and closed my mouth a few times. He dug further into his food while I found my voice. "Um, wow. Okay. So I would have to move to Alabama to take this job involving ghosts that I don't want to see?"
The corners of his lips turned up. "It's a lot to ask of anyone, I know. That's why I just wanted you to hear me out."
Wild Alabama Page 3
