by Ron Ripley
“What the hell does that mean?” Brian asked.
“Bar the path,” Leo answered.
“In what language?” Jenny asked.
“Creole.”
“Creole?” Jenny asked him.
“Yes.”
Brian laughed. “What type of Creole, Leo. Is it Louisiana Creole or Haitian?”
Leo smiled. “You know the difference.”
“Yes,” Jenny said, “we honeymooned in New Orleans.”
“Oh,” Leo said. “Very good. Now, make sure you say those words the entire time. It is the only way the mixture can be bound to the grate.”
“Okay,” Jenny said.
Leo heard her move around even as Brian asked, “Do you think that they’re going to try and get in that way?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re talking about it right now,” Leo said, closing his eyes. “My grandmother is sending them back into the basement.”
“No pressure, sweetheart,” Brian said softly.
“Nope,” Jenny said grimly, “none at all.”
People are confusing, Leo thought.
As far as Leo could see there was a lot of pressure.
Chapter 41: Sylvia's Unexpected Meeting
The drive to Mont Vernon took an hour and ten minutes, and Sylvia’s hands hurt from gripping the steering wheel.
When she got to Brian and Jenny’s house, she saw the taxi parked across the street, exhaust billowing out of the muffler. The windshield wipers dragged across the glass leaving narrow black streaks. In the driveway, under several inches of snow, stood Brian and Jenny’s cars.
The house was dark, all of the lights extinguished.
Sylvia turned her car around and backed in carefully. The snow was soft, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t have a hard time getting out if she needed to leave in a hurry. Her father had always taught her to back into a driveway if the weather was bad, and she was driving a front wheel drive car.
Let the car pull you forward, he had always told her. It’s easier for everyone.
And it was.
Sylvia smiled at the memory of her father and then she brought herself back to focus on the task at hand: Getting the clock to Leo.
Turning off the car, Sylvia pocketed the key and stepped out into the cold. She closed the door, looked up and fell backward, catching herself against the cold metal.
Someone was standing in front of her, dressed for the cold in an old army uniform. Upon looking closer, she saw that the someone was a young man. His face was barely visible beneath his helmet and hat as well as the scarf wrapped around his neck and lower jaw. He wore huge mittens and heavy boots, and he looked at her with an angry, tired expression on his face.
“I’m dead,” the young man said.
“I can see that,” Sylvia said softly.
“I don’t want to be dead.”
“I’m sorry,” Sylvia replied.
“So am I.”
“Could you help me?” Sylvia asked nervously after a moment.
“Sure.”
“I’m looking for someone named Sam.”
The young man grinned at her. “I’m Sam.”
Sylvia sighed, relaxing slightly. “Leo told me to find you.”
The grin disappeared. “He’s in trouble. They’re all in trouble.”
“Why?”
“Leo’s grandmother is here.”
Sylvia opened her mouth to ask another question, but she closed it as another shape came walking out of the storm from around the house.
The old man whom she had first spoken with.
The farmer.
Sam turned, saw the man and waved.
The older ghost nodded.
“Have you met Fred?” Sam asked her. “Fred is Paul’s grandfather.”
“I’ve met him,” Sylvia said softly. “Where is Paul?”
“Gone,” Fred answered.
“Was he the one holding you here?”
Fred gave a curt nod.
“So you can leave now?”
“No,” Fred said. “Leo’s grandmother is keeping us here now.”
“Why?” Sylvia asked.
“She wants to kill Leo,” Sam answered. “And Brian and Jenny. She’s mad at Leo for something.”
“Leo said something about a pantry,” Sylvia said after a moment. “I have to bring him something.”
“She’s in the kitchen, with the other ghosts,” Sam said.
“It is not a safe place to enter,” Fred added. “You will be risking your life if you enter. More importantly, young lady, your soul will remain trapped here as well.”
“I figured that,” Sylvia said. “But I have to get to Leo.”
“Good,” Fred said. “I like determination. Follow me, please.”
Fred turned around and started to walk through the fresh snow, his steps never disturbing the beauty of the snow covered landscape.
Sylvia followed Fred. Sam, in turn, followed Sylvia.
They made their way around the side of the house, and then to the back of it. Sylvia saw what she assumed was the back door to the kitchen.
The three of them stopped a short distance from the exposed room, and Sylvia could see the various ghosts moving quickly within.
“What are going to do?” Sylvia asked softly.
“Sam and I are going into the kitchen,” Fred replied. “You’ll follow. You will go directly to the pantry. The door to it is narrow and tall. Sam and I will hold the others off.”
“Okay,” Sylvia said, flexing her hands nervously, “let’s get this done.”
“Agreed,” Fred said, and Sylvia watched the two ghosts advance on the kitchen.
Chapter 42: Leaving the Pantry
Brian started to drift off to sleep, comfortable in Jenny’s embrace when he heard Leo gasp. There is no way this is a good thing.
“Leo,” forcing himself to stay awake, Brian asked. “What’s happening out there?”
“I just heard Sam’s voice,” Leo said. “He’s coming into the kitchen.”
“Is that good?”
“Yes,” Leo said after a moment. “Yes. He’s coming in, and he’s not alone.”
“Who’s coming with him?” Jenny asked.
“The grandfather,” Leo replied.
A light glowed suddenly, causing Brian to blink. Leo had taken his phone out of his pocket and was looking at it.
“Good,” Leo said, and he put the phone away.
“What’s good?” Jenny asked.
“Sylvia is here.”
“Did she bring the clock?” Brian asked.
“Yes.”
Jenny’s grip tightened, and Brian gave her a reassuring pat on the hand.
“Leo, is she on her way in?” Brian asked.
“Yes.”
“Good,” Brian said. “Very good.”
Something shattered in the kitchen, and someone let out an angry, rage filled scream.
More and greater sounds of violence followed, the floor starting to shake underneath them. Brian focused on his heart, on keeping it beating steadily.
“She’s coming,” Leo said softly.
“Who?” Brian asked.
“My grandmother,” Leo said. “I fear that she will be going after Sylvia.”
There was a scraping sound within the pantry and when Leo spoke again his voice was coming from above them.
“I will be opening the door in a moment,” Leo said. “I cannot let my grandmother hurt Sylvia.”
“Should we go out with you?” Jenny asked.
“That is your decision,” Leo said. “But they will kill you whether you are sitting in the pantry or fighting in the kitchen.”
“Well,” Jenny said, “I guess I know what I’m doing.”
“Me too,” Brian said, and together they stood up in the darkness. His body was stiff, and each movement was painful. His ribs screamed with each deep breath he took, and it felt as though the cuts from the broken light bulb had
reopened, blood trickling out of the wounds.
Oh yeah, Brian thought as he suppressed a groan. I’m in great shape.
“Sylvia is coming in,” Leo said, and Brian heard the man turn the doorknob, opening them to the attacks of the dead.
Chapter 43: The Ghastly Spectacle
When Sylvia stepped into the kitchen, she saw more ghosts than she had ever seen in her life.
She had seen the dead occasionally, ever since she was a little girl. Almost all of them had been bemused, or benevolent. Of course, there had been the rare wretched ones, but those had truly been the exceptions.
In the house, though, in the destroyed room before her, Sylvia saw not only the dead but her own death waiting for her as well.
Sam and the grandfather fought against the others, a struggle frighteningly physical. Some of the combatants were nothing more than the faintest of images, others were nearly fully formed. They ranged in age and differed in gender, yet all of them were led by a tall, beautiful woman standing near the hallway.
Leo’s grandmother.
Sylvia recognized the woman from the photograph which Leo had once shown her.
She was a striking woman, one who bore the stamp of royalty and intelligence.
And the woman was looking at Sylvia.
The small, travel alarm clock in Sylvia’s hand suddenly became cold and heavy.
Sylvia looked around quickly and caught sight of the pantry door. She started to run to it, her boots kicking aside broken dishes and scattered wood. A huge, ethereal arm reached out to grab her, and suddenly Sam was there. The young man managed to push the arm aside and wedge himself between her and the hulking spirit attempting to stop her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sylvia saw Leo’s grandmother advancing towards her.
As Sylvia neared the pantry, she saw the knob turn and the door spring out.
And Leo stepped out into the spiritual battlefield.
His grandmother stopped, smiling at him.
Leo gave her a small smile in turn. He glanced at Sylvia, his smile actually widening with pleasure.
Sylvia held out the alarm clock, and Leo took it.
Even as the smile on Leo’s grandmother’s face vanished, Brian, supported heavily by Jenny, stumbled out into the kitchen.
Sylvia hurried to them and got on Brian’s other side. Together the three of them retreated several steps to stand near the sink.
“I will not go back, Leo,” his grandmother said clearly.
“I am not offering you a choice, Grandmother,” Leo said. A small tremor-filled his voice and Sylvia heard the hidden terror in her friend’s voice.
“I didn’t believe that you were,” his grandmother said with a smile. She glided forward a few feet.
“You must go back,” Leo said. He straightened up slightly. “You should, by all rights, Grandmother, have moved past this place.”
She scoffed at him. “Please, Leo. What do you think waits for you after death?”
“I do not think about it.”
His grandmother smiled. “And that is why I love you so, dear Leonidas. You do not worry over much, do you?”
“No, Grandmother, I do not.”
With a flick of his wrist, Leo opened the alarm clock.
His grandmother lashed forward faster than Sylvia could see. Blackness exploded out into the room, and voices screamed out in pure terror. Sylvia realized that one of the voices was her own.
Chapter 44: In the Kitchen
When Brian could finally see, he realized that Leo was on the floor, crumpled on his side. The body of Sam was a few feet away. Jenny stiffened slightly, and Brian said, “I know, Babe. I know.”
“The door,” Jenny said.
Brian nodded and leaned against the wall as Jenny let go of him. He watched his wife shove the kitchen door back into the frame, forcing the deadbolt into place.
Brian looked over at Sylvia, who had sat down on the floor. She took Leo’s head into her lap. His glasses were gone, part of the debris-covered floor, and he looked much younger as he smiled at Sylvia. His hands were curled around a battered and broken antique travel clock.
The man’s mouth moved, but Brian couldn’t hear anything.
Sylvia leaned closer, her body hiding Leo’s face from Brian.
Jenny came over in silence and wrapped her arms around Brian, helping him to stand straight once more.
Brian watched as Sylvia nodded, reached out and slipped a hand into one of Leo’s pockets, and took out the small book Leo had been walking around with.
“Yes,” Sylvia said softly. “Yes. Yes, I’ll do it, Leonidas.”
She gently set Leo’s head on the floor.
Suddenly a wind sprang up, seeming to explode from Leo’s limp form. Small fragments of glass and scattered napkins were dragged into a miniature whirlwind. The house shook and the windows rattled in their frames.
Brian and Jenny staggered backwards while Sylvia remained where she was, her head down. She remained untouched even though she knelt in the center of the storm. Brian watched her nod once as she reached out, brushed a stray lock of hair off of Leo’s forehead and then leaned in to give Leo a kiss.
The wind vanished and for a moment the room was filled with the clatter of broken crockery falling to the damaged kitchen floor.
“What did he say…before he died?” Jenny asked in a low voice.
“He wants us to help them; the dead,” Sylvia whispered. “All of us.”
Brian looked at the strange ghost trapper on the floor. For the briefest of moments fear threatened to overwhelm him, but he fought it down. He had faced more than he ever thought he could, and Leo, evidently, thought he could do so again.
“But why?” Brian asked finally. “Why us? Why me?”
“Because you’ve been surrounded by ghosts every day for weeks, and you’re still sane. When asked, Leo says you fought without question, and more than that, you survived. Leo thinks the pair of you, and me, are some sort of exception to most people.”
“He told you that as he died?”
“Kind of. He said a lot without words. It’s like a feeling. Someone has to help them. And he saw something in you Brian, a kind of kindred spirit. I don’t know what.”
“Well that makes two of us,” Brian replied, perplexed.
“Well, babe?” Jenny looked at Brian with a wry smile. It was the same smile she had given him on the date she realized she had fallen in love with him. “I’m game if you are.”
Brian sighed. It had been a hell of a night.
Jenny gave him a tight hug and Brian realized that the house felt empty.
The dead were gone from the old Kenyon farm, but now he knew there were others, and he felt a sudden sense of purpose come over him.
It was a feeling he thought he would probably live to regret, but what the hell, he was going to do it anyway. After all, he considered, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d changed careers.
“OK, Leo. We’ll do it.”
But first, Brian was going to have a drink.
* * *
Brian and Jenny will be back in another adventure The Dunewalkers to be released in March 2016. Enjoy your preview of The Dunewalkers below:
An uncommon mission. An unholy realm. And ghostbusting on a whole new level…
After the death of his Army comrade, William Engberg moves into a simple New Hampshire home against the backdrop of the turbulent foam crested waves of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s the ideal place to write and get on with his post-military life. Except for one thing. He has unwanted house guests—ghosts—and he wants them gone!
Determined to reclaim his home, William hires Brian, a ghostbusterpreneur, to clean house. Armed with knowledge from a rare journal on how to vanquish the dead, Brian goes to work only to discover his worst nightmare. Ready or not, Brian must deal with his own ghostly demons once and for all if he’s going to save William…and himself!
Preview of The Dunewalkers Chapter 1: The Squatter
&n
bsp; George had been watching the house at the end of the coast road for a week.
The weather was getting colder, and he needed a place to crash for the winter. Tucked away at the end of the road with almost no vehicle traffic and only a few people who walked by, the little white and green clapboard house looked like it would be fine.
Plus, since it was so small, the police wouldn’t be looking at it when they made their winter rounds. Only the big houses drew special attention.
The engine of his car sputtered and a noxious burnt rubber smell drifted in through the heating vents.
He took his foot off of the brake and made his way back to the parking lot for Moody Beach. He could leave the car there and walk back up to the house. A car, especially one with Maine plates, wouldn’t attract any attention from the police.
Just another local out for a walk down to the Marginal Way and back. George grinned, turned off the lights, killed the engine and put away the keys. The pockets of his jacket contained a couple of cans of beans and some candy bars.
George may not have liked to work, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t take care of himself when he needed to.
He turned his collar up against the bitter wind coming in off of the Atlantic and tried to pull himself into his pea coat. His pants were pressed against his legs by the stiff breeze and the sound of his boots on the pavement was ripped away by the same harsh wind.
Five minutes of walking brought George to the house, the darkness settling in around him. His wristwatch beeped loudly in the middle of a sudden lull in the wind.
Five o’clock.
He walked up the driveway, scattering stones with each step.
A child’s laughter brought him up short.
The sound seemed to have come from the beachfront side of the house. The wind howled then dropped down again.
George stood still.
He had no good reason to be at the house. But there were no lights on, there was no car in the driveway.
The laughter grew louder.
Cautiously George stepped off of the driveway and eased his way around the edge of the building. He heard voices, people making small talk although he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.
