Ghost Camera

by Darcy Coates

  In the flickering, struggling light cast by the remaining bulbs, she saw a tall, gaunt woman standing behind Richard. Her hair framed a wild halo about her head. Outstretched arms ended in long, cruel nails, and she had blood smeared up to her elbows.

  Her eyes locked onto Jenine and she crowed in a voice that became deeper and fiercer, “Come, my darling. I will take such good care of you. They didn’t understand, but you will, my darling. I will make you understand.”

  Jenine shrieked and kicked away from the table. She landed on her back and scrambled away from the nails of the wild-eyed woman. Her back hit something and she looked up to see the statue of the woman with the snake biting her neck. The snake was alive, twitching and pulsing as it tightened its grip and dug its fangs deeper. Blood, bright and hot, dribbled out of the wound and dripped onto Jenine’s shoulder. She shied away and covered her head, frightened to look, afraid to close her eyes, feeling as if her heart might give out at any second.

  “Jen!” Bree shook her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  Jenine opened her eyes. She could still hear the ghosts, but the woman was gone. She looked into Bree’s eyes and saw the confusion and fear swimming there. Bree hadn’t seen the ghost. Bree hadn’t seen the statue move. Is it all in my head?

  “Up,” Richard said briskly, looking pale as he gripped Jenine’s arm and pulled her to her feet.

  Bree wrapped her arms around Jenine’s shoulders. “What’s happening to her?”

  “She can see them,” Richard said, his mouth a thin line, his eyes huge with fear. “I hadn’t expected her to be this far along, or I would never have agreed to—”

  The voices became louder in Jenine’s head, drowning out Richard and Bree and making her ears buzz.

  “Find her. Find her.”

  “Strip her flesh. Shut out her light.”

  The bulbs fizzled again, and in the flickering shadows, the ghosts became visible. Six nondescript shapes appeared near the far wall, then two vanished, only to be replaced by another dozen on the next light flicker. The woman was no longer looking at Jenine, but was turning about the room, staring blindly, searching for her.

  Richard turned to face the room while Bree huddled against Jenine. He raised his voice above the roar of the rain and the screaming voices. “Leave her be!” he yelled, arms outstretched. “She is not yours. She does not belong with you! You can take the camera, but you cannot have her!”

  The clearest ghost, the woman, turned in response to Richard’s voice and opened her mouth to hiss at him. The lower jaw distended far past where it should have, and blood pooled over her tongue and dripped down her lips.

  “Leave her!” Richard yelled a final time, and the ghost launched herself at him.

  Chapter Seven

  Jenine felt her heart skip a beat as the ghost and Richard made contact.

  The impact forced Richard against the wall, and he let out a gasp of shock and pain as the ghost sought his neck with her teeth.

  He struggled as lightning flashed through the curtained window. In that second of intense light, Jenine saw that the room was full of the otherworldly beings; tall, thin and decaying, they crowded around Richard, their mouths open in hungry howls.

  A drop of blood hit Jenine’s cheek, and she muffled a shriek. This is happening because I’m here, she realised. I’m attracting them. I’m letting them touch him.

  She grabbed Bree’s arm and began dragging her towards the door. Bree was in shock, staring at Richard, her mouth open. She wasn’t moving, and Jenine had no choice but to let her go and bolt for the exit alone.

  Her legs didn’t want to carry her. She got through the door to the foyer and stumbled, catching herself on the table. The faint light was just sufficient for her to see the paintings, which had changed again.

  The puppies could no longer be mistaken as asleep. Their flesh sagged off their skeletons, splitting in places to allow maggots and bone to peek through. Their empty eye sockets stared at each other.

  The picnicking family had also moved. The mother and father were crouched over their child, holding his head under the stream’s flow, their mouths splitting open into twisted smiles.

  “No,” Jenine whispered. As she backed away from them, the puppies raised their heads to look at her, slivers of mangy skin falling off their skulls.

  A hand clapped Jenine’s shoulder. She spun, nearly slipping on the marble floor, to find Bree panting behind her.

  “What’s happening?” she gasped, her eyes bulging. “He’s— he’s—”

  “I need to get out of here.” Jenine turned towards the front door. “Can… can I borrow your car?”

  “Borrow? I’ll drive you.” Bree grabbed her hand and ran with her. Lightning flashed, and suddenly, the wild-haired woman blocked their path.

  Bree didn’t—or couldn’t—see the spectre, and she kept running. Jenine yanked on her friend’s arm to pull her back and managed to twist them out of the way just before impact.

  She hadn’t anticipated how quickly the ghost would move. It flickered to the side then was on top of her before she could dodge. Long fingernails dug into Jenine’s forearm, and she screamed. Bree turned, shocked, and Jenine threw her weight at her, pushing them both out the door. The ghost held her grip and opened her maw to expose rows of teeth, which she plunged into Jenine’s arm. Jenine felt the blinding, icy pain, then they were stumbling out of the house and tripping down the front steps to land in a puddle of water on the lawn. Lightning flashed and the ghost was gone.

  “Car,” Jenine gasped, clawing her way to her feet.

  Bree grabbed her elbow and ran her through the pounding rain to her Mini. She threw Jenine into the passenger seat, then climbed into the driver’s side and slammed her door.

  Jenine looked out the window. Lightning crackled, and she could see the ghost through the thick sheets of rain, still on the porch, crouched on all fours like an animal. It was searching for them, its teeth exposed in a snarl.

  “What the hell?” Bree gasped, fumbling to get her key into the ignition. “What the hell happened there?”

  Jenine opened her mouth but didn’t answer. The ghost’s eyes had locked onto their car, and it was scuttling towards them like a malformed insectile abomination. “Drive,” she hissed, watching the ghost race towards them.

  Bree turned the key in the ignition, but the engine stalled. The ghost hit the vehicle like a charging bull. The car rocked wildly, and Jenine gripped her armrests while Bree swore. The woman reared up to press her hands and face against the window on Jenine’s side, opening her mouth in a silent scream as her empty eyes bored into Jenine.

  Bree turned the key again, and this time, the car roared to life. She floored the accelerator, skidding down the lane and kicking up spray as the tires shot through puddles. Jenine glanced into the rear-view mirror and saw the woman scuttling after them, but losing ground. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing.

  “What was that?” Bree asked as they rocketed down the road, narrowly missing parked cars. “Can you… see them?”

  “Yeah.” Jenine wanted to explain more, but she felt drained. Her arm ached; she glanced at it, and nausea washed through her. The spirit’s teeth had broken the skin and hot red blood was dripping off her elbow.

  Bree looked at the blood and exhaled through her nose. “I’m getting you to a hospital.”

  Jenine leaned back in her seat and swallowed, trying to clear her head. “Do you have your phone?”

  “Yeah, in my bag.”

  Jenine reached down with her good hand and fished out the phone. She dialled the emergency hotline, gave them Richard’s address, and said, “Send an ambulance,” then hung up.

  She wished she could do more, but going back would only make the situation worse. She fervently hoped the ghosts had disappeared once she was away from his house.

  The rain wasn’t easing. They passed a few people hurrying through the storm, some struggling to keep umbrellas the right way up, others just
making a dash for their destination. The clouds were thick enough that the streetlamps had turned on, but their light didn’t extend far through the downpour.

  Jenine turned to look out the window. Her vision was blurry, and maybe she really was hallucinating, but they seemed to be passing strange shapes. “Bree?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “Can you pull over a minute?”

  Bree did as requested and parked the car by the side of the road. They were still in a residential area, where tidy suburban houses lined the street. A man was rushing through the rain, a suitcase in one hand, holding his business jacket held over his head with the other. Calmly walking past him was a ghost.

  “Do you see that?” Jenine pointed at the spirit.

  Bree squinted through the window. “The man?”

  “No, behind him.”

  The ghost had stopped and turned to look at Bree’s parked car. He began walking towards them, lengthening his strides as he got closer. He had more definition than the ghosts in Richard’s home.

  “Keep driving,” Jenine whispered. The man broke into a jog and his face twisted in rage. Another ghost came out from under the awning of the house across the street. A third, an elderly man, came from the opposite direction.

  “Drive!”

  Bree pushed the car into gear and sped down the road. A teen’s ghost ran to block their path and the car screeched past him just in time.

  “Shoot,” Jenine whispered, closing her eyes. She didn’t know what would have happened if the ghost had been in the way of the car. She didn’t want to know. They seemed to interact with physical objects like regular humans when they were around her.

  Sickness welled up inside her, and she clamped a hand over her mouth as she retched.

  “There’s a bag in the back if you need it,” Bree offered. “Hang on. We’re almost there.”

  A voice in the back of Jenine’s head objected to the idea of hospital, but she couldn’t think why. A pounding headache had started, and her stomach muscles were convulsing from chills. “Can we have the heater up?” she asked through numb lips.

  Bree flicked the switch up as high as it would go, but the hot air did nothing to warm Jenine. Her vision swam as Bree skidded into the parking lot of the hospital, and her anxious feelings were suddenly validated.

  What place has a greater concentration of suffering and death than a hospital?

  As the car turned towards the emergency entrance, Jenine reached out her good hand to grasp Bree’s wrist and stop her. “No, no, no, no.”

  Ghosts wandered aimlessly through the car park, stopping to stare at Jenine as the car passed. She looked at the glass doors of the hospital and saw a concentration of them inside, turning to watch her with blank eyes as she neared. “No, Bree, we have to get out of here.”

  “What?” Bree’s eyes were wide with fear and anxiety. “Jenny, you need help—”

  “They’re everywhere.” She forced the words through her rapidly-closing throat. “They’re coming for me.”

  “Dammit,” Bree muttered. “You better not be hallucinating, babe.” She put the car into gear and began to turn as an orderly exited the hospital’s front doors.

  The open doors released a spectral tide. Dozens upon dozens of spirits poured through the opening as soon as it was wide enough, weaving around the oblivious orderly and racing for the car.

  “Go!” Jenine screamed, her voice high and tight.

  Bree put her foot on the accelerator and the car skidded, wheels spinning. Jenine saw shapes falling and looked up in horror. Ghosts were jumping from the upper levels of the hospital, exiting through open windows and leaping off the roof. They swarmed towards the car and dozens of hands pressed against the windows and bonnet. Jenine screamed and covered her face with her hands as their pressure began to tip the car.

  Bree felt it, too, and floored the accelerator. The car jerked sharply as the ghosts blocked their exit. Jenine instinctively pulled her feet off the ground as the spirits disappeared under the car, and immediately, she wished she hadn’t. Nausea and rigors washed over her.

  The car broke through the wall of ghosts and shot out of the hospital parking lot, attracting stares from the patients getting into their cars and prompting a wave of ghosts to clamber over each other in single-minded pursuit.

  “Jenny. Jenny, can you hear me?” Bree’s hand was on Jenine’s shoulder, shaking her, trying to wake her from her stupor.

  Jenine forced her eyes open to look at her friend. Bree’s face was as white as a sheet, and her eyes were round with terror. “Babe, I need you to help me help you. What do you need? Where do you want to go? Do you want to try another hospital?”

  “No,” Jenine managed. “No hospitals. Go somewhere—no people. Try the mountains.”

  “The mountains?”

  “No ghosts there,” Jenine said. “I hope.”

  Bree obediently turned the car towards the forests to the north. The mountains were sparsely populated, and only a few roads ran through them, connecting the two cities on either side. Jenine hoped a smaller population would mean a lower number of ghosts.

  She closed her eyes and tried to brace against the bumps and turns of the car. She was shivering uncontrollably, her vision was blurred and the pounding in her head had been replaced with a strange emptiness, as though the contents had been sucked out.

  “You don’t look good,” Bree said, glancing at Jenine out of the corner of her eye.

  “I’m fine,” Jenine muttered. Sweat poured down her face and soaked her already-wet clothes. Her legs had started twitching. “Just need somewhere quiet. Rest.”

  Jenine lost consciousness shortly after they left the town. One moment, she was squinting, checking that the road was clear. The next, Bree was shaking her awake. For a second the shaking felt exactly the same as driving over the ghosts. The car had bounced across them as if they were real people. Did they feel pain? Fear? Is it possible to kill a ghost?

  Then Bree’s voice, panicked and desperate, filtered through the fog. “Babe, please, wake up. You’ve got to stay with me. C’mon, Jenny. Wake up.”

  Jenine tried to say “I’m awake,” but it came out as a mumble. She heard a strange whistling noise, and a second later, she realised Bree was hyperventilating.

  “I should take you back,” Bree muttered. “You’re sick. You need a doctor.”

  “No, not back,” Jenine said. She opened her eyes properly and saw that they were in the mountains, weaving through the narrow, bendy roads. Bree was driving far too quickly to be safe in the heavy rain.

  “I’m so sorry, Jenny.” Bree turned the car into a driveway—the first she’d seen for miles, probably—to reverse direction. “Even… even if we stay at the outskirts of town and call an ambulance, maybe—”

  “No,” Jenine said. She tried to move, but her body felt leaden. She twisted her head to look at Bree, and the movement took far more energy than it should have. “No.”

  Bree’s face was white. Jenine could see the conflict in it. Fear about what would happen if she went back to the city vied with fear about what would happen if she didn’t.

  Jenine felt like she was dying. If she was, she wanted to do it peacefully and quietly in the woods, not amongst the grasping ghost hands in the city, to be overwhelmed and drowned in them. If she was going to die, it would be on her own terms.

  “No, Bree,” she mumbled.

  Bree let out a choked sob through clenched teeth. Tears were running down her cheeks, and she turned the car back towards the city. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to help, Jenny. Let me help.”

  The car was moving too quickly. The narrow road was full of sharp bends, and only a thin railing protected them from the drop-off to one side. Jenine tried to reach over to tell Bree to slow down or even just stop for a few minutes.

  Something moved into the road.

  Jenine’s eyes widened as she saw the ghost—an elderly woman with long hair frothing about her face as her lips twisted into a snarl�
��plant her feet firmly in the centre of the road and extend her hands to stop the car.

  Bree didn’t see. Couldn’t see. Kept driving.

  “No,” Jenine choked. “Stop.”

  If anything, Bree pressed harder on the accelerator.

  Jenine felt as if time were playing in slow motion. The car got closer to the woman, then closer, too close for Bree to stop even if she had wanted to, and at the last second, Bree saw her. She let out a shriek, applied the brake and swerved. The car clipped the ghost, sending it bouncing off the bonnet and pavement in a way that made Jenine recoil as though it had been a real person. Then the car hit the railing and barrelled through it, and they were falling down the side of the mountain.

  The next few moments were all motion, noise, blinding pain and a light that refused to stop. Bree screamed but was abruptly cut off. Jenine tried to lift her hands to protect her face but found she could barely move them. Her seatbelt locked and jerked her body back with it, whipping her head forward and sending bright light shooting across her vision. Pain sliced into her face and arms as the windshield shattered. Tree branches, dirt and underbrush poured into the car.

  After a final, agonizing jolt, the motion stopped. The car was tipped at an angle, nearly on its side, wheels stuck in the brush of the side of the mountain. Jenine’s door was jammed against the tree that had stopped the car’s descent.

  Jenine gasped, trying to draw breath into her burning lungs. Tears mingled with the sweat coursing down her face.

  “Bree,” she whispered, trying to turn her head against the strain of gravity. “Bree?”

  No answer. She managed to twist her head around far enough to see Bree slumped in her seat, as loose as a ragdoll. Blood dripped from the tip of her nose and landed on the clutch.

  “Bree!”

  She didn’t respond. Jenine tried to unhook her seatbelt or reach across to feel for her friend’s pulse, but her muscles had stopped obeying her commands. Slowly, gruellingly, against her will, her head flopped back down to rest against the strained seatbelt.