“You were spying on me, Ghost Man?”
“Not you. Thomas.”
“I should be angrier about that, but I’m too curious about what you found out.”
“I was able to pick up his end of the conversation you two had last night.”
“Really?” Georgia twisted in the bench to face him, crossing her long, skinny legs. “You heard what he was saying?”
“Yes.”
“That’s great! Like I told you yesterday, I can always tell he’s trying to say something, but I can’t understand him.”
“That’s common,” Rand said. “Their words are coming from another realm of existence, so it’s hard for our human ears to pick up sometimes unless the presence is very strong. On a recording, it often comes through much clearer.”
Georgia looked amazed. Even in awe. “This is such good news.”
“How come?” Rand asked.
“Because… Okay, promise you won’t tell my parents?”
He nodded.
“Good. I know I can trust you, Ghost Man. The truth is, I’ve come to terms with the whole dying young thing. I’m mostly over it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have difficult moments sometimes.”
“I get it,” Rand said.
“Some days I’m still afraid to die. Some nights I can’t sleep because I’m wondering what it feels like to be dead.”
Seventeen days, Thomas’s voice echoed in Rand’s mind.
Georgia’s face, usually so bright, had fallen. Her eyes drifted to the rainstorm. The plant leaves were battered by the falling drops.
“That’s why I’m glad you came,” she said. “I was hoping you could help me communicate with Thomas. Maybe he can answer some of my questions.”
Rand watched her for a long time. He could sense her uncertainty. He knew she was desperate to find reassurance from her friend.
Georgia looked at him again. “Can you help me, Ghost Man?”
Rand took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I can. But not in the way you want.”
Georgia frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I could hear Thomas’s side of the conversation. And it isn’t what you would expect. Thomas is not happy. He’s bitter. And from what I can tell, he’s a little jealous that you’re alive and he isn’t.”
Georgia furrowed her brow. “That doesn’t sound like Thomas at all.”
“That’s the tricky thing with these ghosts. Sometimes when they come back, they aren’t the same as they were when they were alive. Things change between life and death.”
“Then we’ll ask him what’s wrong,” Georgia said. “We need to reassure him. Or make him feel better. Or something.”
Rand shook his head, and he could see Georgia’s hopes getting dashed. “It’s not that simple, Georgia. Spirits aren’t like people, and we can’t reason with them. They are trapped here because they felt their time on earth was unfinished, or they are not satisfied with how they lived their lives. They don’t belong here, like you or I do.”
“Then we need to help him,” Georgia said.
“I agree. And the best way we can do that is to send him away.”
Georgia’s face dimmed, and Rand thought he could see tears welling in her eyes. He hated telling her what she didn’t want to hear.
“What do you mean?” Georgia asked.
“I mean send him on to the afterlife. To where his spirit belongs.”
“No,” Georgia said. “We can’t do that. I like him here.”
“Why is that?”
“Because he was my best friend when he was alive and knowing he’s looking out for me makes me feel better.”
I want you to die.
“Georgia, he isn’t looking out for you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I heard what he was telling you.”
“And what did he say?”
Seventeen days.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“That’s bullshit! I want to know.”
“You don’t,” Rand said gently. “Trust me.”
“What? Was he, like, cursing me out? Or telling me he always hated me?”
“No, nothing like that.” Much worse.
“Then I don’t understand.”
“You need to trust me,” Rand said. “I’ve encountered bitter ghosts before, and even though we think they’re our loved ones, they’re often not the same. The best place for them is the afterlife.”
“I don’t want him in the afterlife,” Georgia protested. “I want him here. He’s the only thing I have right now that makes me feel better about dying!” She finally broke, and the tears streamed down her face. “Having him here shows this isn’t the end, and that even after I pass, I’ll still be able to see my mom and dad.” She sniffed, then wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
Rand was quiet for a few minutes and let Georgia cry. He understood her point of view completely, but that was why it was so difficult. It was hard to make her understand why Thomas’s presence wasn’t good without telling her what he knew.
When she got her sobs under control, she looked up at him again. “I thought you were here to help me.”
“I am. But sometimes help doesn’t always look the way we want it to.”
Georgia shook her head. “I can’t believe it. I finally get a break, my friend coming back and showing me that dying isn’t that bad. And now you want to take that away from me.”
“Please try to understand,” Rand said. “Thomas is not the same as before.”
“Oh yeah? Prove it. Let me hear your recording.”
“I won’t do that.”
“Then you’re just some scammer. Maybe there isn’t even anything on your recorder.” She stood and grabbed her oxygen tank. “Thanks for nothing.”
Then she stormed off.
Rand watched her go. Hurting her now reminded him of the times when Libby thought she knew best, and Rand had to tell her no. He hated to see his daughter upset, but had to stand strong and not give in. That was true here as well.
Georgia’s reason for wanting Thomas around was compelling, but Rand knew he had to do what was right.
11
Rand informed Nick and Maria Collins that he planned to remove the ghost using a cleansing ceremony. Although they both seemed a little skeptical, they were nevertheless on board with the idea.
They got clearance from the doctor to let Georgia spend the night at home, then they signed her out.
Rand had dinner in the St. Mary’s cafeteria downstairs while he waited for the family to vacate, not wanting to be present. He knew Georgia would be very unhappy and not want to see him.
Around eight o’clock, Nick called him.
“Okay, we’re home,” he said.
“How did it go?” Rand asked.
“She was not pleased,” Nick told him.
“I figured. I’m not her favorite person in the world right now. But trust me, this is for the best.”
“I believe you. Do what you have to do.”
Rand returned to the tenth floor, satchel dangling from his shoulder. It was heavy with all the supplies he’d need.
Harold the security guard gave him a strange look as he passed the desk. “Mr. Rand? The Collins family has signed out of the hospital for the evening.”
Rand froze. He still wore his visitor name tag, but it probably didn’t have much authority when the patient he was registered as visiting wasn’t even in the facility.
“Yeah,” Rand said. A couple of likely lies popped into his head, but he found he couldn’t be dishonest with the man.
Harold wrinkled his brow, confused. Rand knew this was the part where Harold would ask him to leave. But instead, Harold said, “May I have a word?”
Rand returned to the desk and let his satchel drop to the floor by his feet.
The robust man leaned forward and brought his face close to Rand’s. “Miss Georgia tells me things. And she told me about you and what you’re doing her
e.” Although no one was in earshot, he kept his voice low.
Rand nodded. So I was right. He does know more about this than he let on.
“I was the first to know about her little friend coming to visit her in the middle of the night.”
“I had a feeling you were a believer,” Rand said.
Harold licked his lips and hesitated. Finally, he said, “I am. I’ve had a few unexplainable experiences in my life, but I try to leave well enough alone. I don’t think any good can come from messing with this stuff.”
“Wise man,” Rand said. How he wished more people felt the same way as Harold. “But not everyone is as wary as you, and they can get themselves into serious trouble.”
“A young lady like Miss Georgia has no business dabbling around with all this,” Harold said.
“I agree.”
“I hoped you weren’t here to encourage her curiosity, but I didn’t think so. I got a good feeling from you.”
“And I from you. I’m here to get rid of it. That’s why they took Georgia away for the night.”
“Hospital policy says the visitors can’t stay when the patient is gone.”
“Smart policy,” Rand said. “Give me an hour?”
Harold nodded his head. “Make it quick.”
Rand placed candles around the empty hospital room and ignited them. Then he turned out the lights, leaving only an eerie darkness. He took out his incense and lit it, letting the scented smoke drift through the air. He removed his jacket and placed it on the couch.
He’d done cleansing ceremonies countless times, but to him it would never be a matter of routine. Supernatural entities were far too unpredictable, and for that reason Rand still got nervous when preparing for an encounter.
The storm from earlier had mostly passed, but the last remains of the thunder rolled in the distance.
Rand stood in the middle of the room and closed his eyes. Embraced the silence. Smelled the incense.
And felt he was not the only one in the room.
Rand was not a clairvoyant, but he had been around enough spiritual activity to recognize when it was present.
“You are here with me,” he said out loud. Nothing replied. “I can sense you. Don’t worry. I am not here to harm you.”
More silence. Rand opened his eyes. He withdrew from his bag a small cross dangling from rosary beads. He held the thing high above his head, displaying it to the four corners of the room.
“It is time for you to move on from this place,” Rand said.
A loud crash startled him. A picture frame—a photo of Georgia and three other young girls—had fallen off the wall and smashed on the ground.
Thomas would resist.
But the thing about the spiritual realm was, it had to listen to the commands of those who occupied the mortal plane. They didn’t have to like it, but they had to obey.
“I know you can hear me,” Rand said, looking around the room, speaking loudly and clearly. “You are loved and remembered here, and we have all grieved your loss. But it is time for you to walk toward the light where you belong. You will be happier there, and the ones you love will remember you fondly until it is time for you all to meet again.”
The room’s temperature suddenly grew very cold. The presence of a spirit consumed the heat from the room, which caused the room to become unnaturally cold all at once.
Two candles near Georgia’s bed blew out at the same time.
“I know you don’t want to go, you must,” Rand said.
A vase of flowers on Georgia’s desk shifted by itself—Rand saw it just in time. It flew from the desk, right toward his head, but he dodged. It smashed on the opposite wall, sending flowers, glass, and water all over the floor.
This one is strong, Rand thought. Stronger than he’d originally thought. He was right in figuring he needed to cleanse the room immediately.
“I command you to leave this place!” Rand said, voice booming. When the sprits were stubborn, he had to be especially firm. “Walk toward the light! Embrace the next life. You are not welcome here, and you will come here no more!”
The bathroom door swung open and closed by itself, slamming shut. The television turned on, though it displayed nothing but static. Georgia’s desk drawers opened and the pens, pencils, and papers inside flew around the room.
It’s trying to throw me off.
“Georgia does not need you anymore!” Rand shouted. “You do not belong. I command you to leave this place!”
The doors and drawers stopped moving on their own and the objects being thrown around came to rest on the floor. The tension in the room eased and evaporated, and the temperature slowly returned to normal. Static on the TV was the only sound.
And then, after few seconds, Rand took a deep breath and lowered the rosary beads. He closed his eyes and felt out the space for a few moments, to confirm that he was alone.
The room felt empty. Lighter, even.
The spirit was gone.
But it was too easy.
A little voice in the back of Rand’s head told him it shouldn’t have been that simple. The ghost was stronger than he’d expected, so Rand lingered a few seconds longer to confirm that he’d been successful. He sensed nothing out of the ordinary.
There is no presence here any longer, Rand told himself.
Rand blew out the candles and packed his things. He did his best to clean up the mess Thomas had made—throwing away the pieces of the broken vase, putting the pens and pencils back in the drawers. He threw his bag over his shoulder and checked his watch. The hour that Harold had given him was almost up.
He opened the door, and as he went to step out into the hallway he took one last look over his shoulder. Scanned the room from wall to wall, glancing into the four corners.
Definitely gone. No spirit before had ever withstood one of his cleansing ceremonies.
Thomas was no different.
12
It took Libby fifteen minutes to find the correct elevator. She could imagine her dad getting hopelessly lost in this hospital.
And he would never tell me if he did.
The doors opened on the tenth floor and Libby stepped out, looking around. The ward now made her feel like she was in a hospital for the first time. Hospitals gave her dad the creeps, but she didn’t mind them. When she was younger, she had done some volunteer work at St. Mary’s with her mom.
The security guard stood as she approached, giving her a broad smile. “Good evening, ma’am.”
“Hello,” Libby said. “I’m here to visit Georgia Collins.”
“Certainly.” The guard produced a binder and opened it for her, where Libby signed her name. She checked her cheap digital watch and filled in the time—5:50 PM.
The guard took the binder back and copied her name onto a nametag. He smirked as he did. “Any relation to a Randolph?”
Libby winced. “Are you going to throw me out?”
He laughed. “I like him. Haven’t seen him in a while, though.” The guard—whose badge read Harold—flipped a few pages back and ran his finger down the boxes. “Ten days ago.”
“Yeah. He’s been busy.” Libby peeled the sticker off and smoothed it onto her shirt. “I’m his daughter.”
“Welcome to the tenth ward. I’m Harold, the security guard up here. Room 1019 is down that way and on the right.”
Libby thanked him and made her way past the nurse station and down the hall. She found the door of 1019 wide open. The girl whose Instagram she’d been following the last week and a half was propped on her bed, watching television. The nasal cannula that was always in her pictures hung from her nose.
Libby scanned the hospital room, which resembled a normal bedroom. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
Georgia noticed her for the first time, smiled, and stood. Without saying anything, she opened her arms wide for a hug, and Libby scooped her up.
“Thank you for coming,” Georgia said.
“Absolutely. I heard
the ice cream here is amazing.” They sat down together on the bed. “Seriously,” Libby said, looking around. “This place looks incredible. So comfortable.”
“Basically, I moved in,” Georgia said. “No idea what the rent is, but my parents tell me it isn’t cheap.”
“I wanted to paint the walls in my bedroom at my dad’s house,” Libby said. “I like blue, but right now it’s white, which is what it was when he bought the place. But he told me no. Said I’d make too much of a mess and that I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Do you know what you’re doing, though?” Georgia asked. “Do you actually know how to paint a room?”
“Of course not,” Libby said. “But I wanted to try.”
Georgia chuckled. “You should just do it anyway. Who cares?”
“You’re right,” Libby said. “He never goes in there. We can make bets how long it’ll take him to notice. Maybe three months?”
“How is the ghost man?” Georgia asked, her voice flat.
“Fine. Busy teaching. Out with his girlfriend. Stuff like that.”
Georgia grunted.
Her dad had told her what had gone down with the ghost. In the end, he’d ended up having to remove it, and Georgia was upset with him about that. It had been a tough call, Libby realized. But Libby knew enough about these ghosts to know it was the right thing to do.
“I like your clothes,” Georgia said, her eyes scanning her up and down. “You play volleyball?”
“Oh, this. Sorry, I just came from practice.”
“No, that’s awesome. Sometimes I watch it on TV. It looks like so much fun.”
“Have you ever played?”
“No way. Look at me, I can’t even breathe.”
“Come with me sometime. We’ll hit some balls.”
Georgia straightened. “Are you serious?”
“Of course.”
“That would be great.”
“So what about you?” Libby asked. “What do you do when you’re here?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted it. There couldn’t be too many interesting things to do in a hospital.
But Georgia only perked up. “This place is so huge. I explore and get into places where I’m not supposed to.”
The Tenth Ward Page 7
