It was becoming more and more difficult to see our surroundings through the window. A thick fog covered the whole town with a dense blanket making visibility nearly impossible. So often before, the mist rolled in from the sea, but I had never seen it so thick and impenetrable before.
“Where did all this fog come from?” I asked. “I’ve never seen it so dense.”
“It rolled in from the bay,” said Henry. “It is unnatural. It is menacing, and an evil lurks inside.”
I shuddered, wondering what he meant by that. Are O’Reilly’s men inside the fog?
We drove for a few more miles, but as we approached Pacific Grove, the fog grew thicker still. Henry turned right onto Route 68 and headed away from town.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I have to get you out of Monterey and Pacific Grove,” Henry replied seriously. “If we take Route 68, it will join 101, and we can go north, to San Francisco. I have to get you as far away from Monterey Bay as possible.”
San Francisco? What will we do once we get there? And how will I explain my disappearance to Dad and Sophie? I was sure they were already worrying about me, glancing at my cell phone confirmed my thoughts. Missed calls from Dad. I considered calling him back, but had no clue what I would tell him, how do I explain my bizarre absence, or why I ran away from home. I was relatively certain he would not buy a story about ghostly sailors coming after me in the fog.
As he had done so many times before, Henry seemed to sense my thoughts. “Do not fret, Alice. I shall take care of everything. There is a place we can stay in San Francisco, and O’Reilly will not find us there. As I told you, my family lived there.”
His words puzzled me. I couldn’t imagine that any of Henry’s immediate family were still alive. And what about my school, my family, and Henry’s curse? He was trying to comfort me and rescue me, but I was still full of unanswered questions, and more seemed to be popping up all the time. “I thought you couldn’t leave Monterey Bay,” I repeated, fearing the consequences for Henry.
Before he could answer, we were distracted by flashing lights up ahead, red and blue lights from a police car. Beyond that, two cars jammed together, bumper to bumper blocking traffic.
“What’s going on?”
“A roadblock,” answered Henry, slowing the truck.
A police officer walked up the road toward us and motioned for Henry to roll his window down. A burly man dressed in a black military uniform with a gun around his belt made him very intimidating.
“Something happen up ahead, Officer?” Henry asked in his most polite voice.
The officer inspected us curiously, staring at us with a scowl. He said nothing for a moment and just clenched his thickset jaw, giving me a once-over. “Traffic accident,” he finally said. “We got ourselves a nasty four-car pileup because of this fog. It’s gonna take at least a couple hours to clear the road, so I suggest you kids head back the way you came.”
“A couple of hours?” Henry repeated then turned to me.
I knew what he was thinking; O’Reilly and his men would be there by then.
“Is there another road out of Monterey?” he asked the policeman.
“No. Just turn around and head back the way you came,” said the cop.
“Yes, Sir,” said Henry and wheeled his truck around.
“That was close,” I said, finally breathing.
We headed back toward Pacific Grove through fog so thick we could see only a few feet in front of us. Because of the conditions, a long line of slow-moving traffic backed up, heading into town.
“What now?” I asked, as Henry was forced to slow his truck to a crawl.
“I plan to take you somewhere I know you will be safe,” Henry replied.
When we reached Pacific Grove, I expected him to go left, onto Forest Avenue, back toward my house. Instead, he turned right, toward the center of town.
“Where are we going?” I asked, dumbfounded. I was anxious to see Dad and Sophie and be sure they were safe.
“You cannot go home,” he said. “That is the first place O’Reilly will look for you.”
“But what about my family? I have to be with them. I need to know they’re all right. I don’t want O’Reilly to hurt them.”
“I understand you are concerned about them,” Henry said, “but I must consider your safety first. O’Reilly wants you, not them. The moment he realizes you are not there, he will not waste time sticking around.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the only safe place in Pacific Grove,” Henry replied.
Henry pulled his truck to a stop outside Our Lady of the Cross. The church was shrouded with a thick bank of fog and looked like someone had draped it with gray velvet veils. The tall branches of the Monterey pines grew in symmetry on both sides of the church, their pointed needles standing like skeletons.
“The church?” I asked, confused.
“This is the safest place I know of in town,” said Henry.
I shook my head in disbelief. “A church is just a building, Henry. It isn’t gonna save me. Do you really believe prayers will help?”
“No, but it is the only building O’Reilly and his men cannot step foot into, while it is intact. We must keep the doors and windows sealed. You will have sanctuary here.”
“What about you?” I asked, desperately wanting him to stay with me because with him I felt safe.
“I will join you later,” Henry promised. “I must face O’Reilly. This is my fight. I started it, and I will end it.”
He opened the door, and I reluctantly hopped out of his truck. There was a light on in Christian’s house, and I could see shadows behind the curtains. The door opened, and Christian and Emily came rushing out.
“Are you all right?” asked Christian.
“Yes, but we must make adjustments,” Henry said.
“Plan B?” I chimed in. “Fill us in, Henry.”
“Alice must stay in the church, Christian and Emily, while I face O’Reilly and his men—alone.”
“Alone!?” I protested. “There are twelve of them and only one of you. The lost souls won’t help you, and you can’t be a one-man army, Henry.”
“I will prevail, Alice. Trust me. O’Reilly and his men cannot kill me.”
“But what about your soul?” I said. “That’s what O’Reilly wants. Without that, you have no chance of moving on. You said yourself that you’ll be stuck here if—”
“I will find a way,” Henry interrupted. “Alice, these days with you have been my happiest. I want you to know that.”
I nodded. “Mine, too,” I said earnestly, tears welling in my eyes.
“Take good care of her,” Henry said to Christian.
“You don’t need to worry about Alice being safe with me,” Christian said. “I’m not the one who got her in trouble.” Despite the uneasy alliance between them, there was still a strong feeling of animosity.
Henry looked into my eyes, and I gazed longingly back at him. Our lips touched as I closed my eyes and wished we were a million miles away. The kiss was long and cool, and in that mesmerizing moment, I vanished—completely forgetting about the fact that Christian and Emily stood there. Christian, of course, averted his gaze as we kissed.
“Be careful—and hurry back,” I said, resting my palms on his chest.
He nodded and started walking back to his truck.
“Henry, wait!” Emily called. She ran like a gazelle and gripped Henry’s and my arms. “While you were gone, I had another vision.”
“What did you see, Emily?” I asked.
“The marina, boats, and the Coast Guard.”
“Pickard?” I asked. “You saw Pickard?”
“Yes! He was calling out to someone on his radio, and it sounded like he was in trouble. I think that is where O’Reilly and his men plan to attack.”
“Then I will go there right away,” Henry said.
“Be safe,” I replied.
Henry nodded, jumped
into his truck, and drove off. We watched him disappear into the fog.
Christian put his arm around my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “C’mon,” he said. “We better start preparing for their arrival.”
I nodded and sniffled, following Christian and Emily into the church. I couldn’t help the disturbing thought lurking in the back of my mind—will I ever get to see Henry again? Mist swirled around the building, but I could still see the cross at the top of the spire. Together, we walked up the steps to the oak doors. Remembering the first time I saw the church—its sturdy design impressed me, with heavy double-doors and a thick timber frame. It looked like it could withstand a hurricane—hopefully it will live up to its façade on that fateful night.
I ran up the steps with Christian, just as the last visibility left Pacific Grove. At the double-doors I paused, even though I briefly attended church a few weeks ago, it still brought back bitter memories of Mom’s funeral. The white coffin being carried up the aisle, the pain of grief throbbing in my chest, the clutch of my little sister’s cold fingers and my dad’s tears—it all came flooding back to me, and again at that moment I felt grief’s overwhelming ache. As I walked up the aisle, I wondered if God would forgive me for abandoning Him, now that I was coming back in search of His help. Will He even accept me? Will He let me live, or will He let O’Reilly and his men take me?
A statue of the Virgin Mary stood at the side of the altar. She was dressed in a white and blue robe, her palms outstretched. I had always found her to be beautiful, and I hoped she would not fail me now.
As I sat on the bench, I cast my eyes over the Stations of the Cross. Feeling guilty sitting in church, a sinner who turned her back on God—blamed Him—lacking all compassion and forgiveness.
In my backpack, I still carried the box I found. As I pulled it out, it gave me comfort to hold it in my hands—yet I still didn’t know what it meant or what power it had. I put it in a compartment of the altar for safekeeping.
I returned to the bench and silently prayed that God would forgive me. My biggest sin of all was Henry. I had fallen in love with a ghost, but in my heart, he was the best mistake I’d ever made.
Chapter Twenty-two: Monterey under Siege
They came on the Evening Tide as promised, all twelve of the vengeful specters—their hard, muscled bodies dripping wet, ice-cold skin smelling of the sea under dark uniforms clinging to their frames. When their heads surfaced, their eyes were fixed on the shore, like predators locked onto their prey. Not one pair of eyes showed any trace of regret; all were set and ready for the kill.
O’Reilly, the tallest and meanest of the sailors came ashore first, water dripping from his tight black shirt. He stood on the beach with muscles flexed, scoping the area. With the wave of his large hand, he commanded the others forward. They marched in step like an army, stones crunching underfoot as they headed up the shingle shore.
When O’Reilly reached the edge of Monterey Beach, he leaned back and sniffed the air, like a bloodhound trying to catch a scent of something in the air. “This way!” he ordered, urging the others on.
The eleven sailors followed O’Reilly up the beach like disciples.
Among them was Jack, a seventeen-year-old sailor from Mendocino, with short-cropped blond hair and unusually thick eyebrows. His face bore an expression of perpetual dread, as though constantly brooding about something.
Then came Blake, a handsome, pale-faced guy with curly hair, angular features, and thin lips. He walked with a slight limp in his right leg from being violently slashed by a knife during a brawl in San Francisco.
The last ashore was Monroe, the youngest. He had curly blond hair, pink eyes, and deathly pale skin—he looked to be an albino, especially in the silvery moonlight trying to work its way through the horrendous fog. Not a flicker of warmth coursed through his veins, and he bitterly hated everything and everyone around him.
The twelve men walked toward the hamlet of Pacific Grove. The boats in the marina stood like skeletons, their tall masts reaching up toward the sky. In the harbor, the sound of the foghorn blared loudly, reverberating through the bay.
Captain Pickard was confused by the strange weather. In all of his thirty years in Monterey Bay, he had never seen a fog so dense.
Already, there had been several grim reports from fishing boats and sailing vessels adrift at sea with hazard lights on. They were cast motionless in the ocean, afraid to come near the shore for fear of smashing blindly against the rocks. There had already been one horrible incident—a trawler hit a jetty at Moss Landing and ran aground.
Pickard picked up the radio. “Coast Guard station to Alpha One. Do you read me? Over.”
Crackling on the line was the response.
Damn it, thought Pickard, all the circuits appear dead. “How the hell am I supposed to deal with all the maritime disasters in this mess with no communication?” he muttered, fearing there had already been casualties—how long before help can arrive through this fog?
Pickard snapped his head toward a noise in the marina, the strange murmur of unfamiliar voices. Maybe they are from the naval academy, sent to help in the crisis. “Thank God,” he said aloud, glad for reinforcements. He fumbled for his flashlight then unlocked the front door of his cabin and went outside.
Instantly, fog swirled around him.
“Who’s there?” shouted Pickard. He squinted, trying to see through the gray murkiness. “Captain Mainwaring? Is that you?” Pickard shouted again, still hoping the naval academy had sent help.
Through the mist, he saw the silhouettes of about a dozen men walking down the jetty toward him, and Pickard released a sigh of relief that someone had heard his distress call after all.
“Finally!” cried Pickard. “I thought I was gonna have to deal with this on my own.”
The men did not reply, just kept walking.
“Is Mainwaring among you?” Pickard cried out again, trying to discern the captain among the shadows.
Again— no reply. The men continued marching along the jetty, coming his way.
When they got within visual distance, Pickard realized they were not from the academy. They resembled nineteenth-century sailors, and not one of them looked friendly. In fact, their eyes were filled with contempt.
“Wh-who are you?” Pickard whispered with apprehension.
O’Reilly marched up to the old man and with a flick of his hand, struck Pickard down.
The old man’s groaning sounded like a tire that had just been punctured and deflated to the walkway in a heap. With a long sigh, he let out his final breath.
Looking contemptuously at Pickard’s fallen form, O’Reilly urged the men forward. “C’mon,” O’Reilly said, stepping over the lifeless body. “This way.”
The thick haze continued to roll into the town smothering everything in its path—trees, houses, cars, and telephone poles. People ran for cover, as if being chased by angry demons. They locked themselves in their cars and ran into the closest houses or shops seeking safety. The fog had already caused a number of pile-ups and traffic accidents and now moved toward total chaos.
In the distance, I heard sirens in the bay, warning any ships of the treacherous hazards. Inside the church, I huddled to keep warm. I had tried several times to ring Dad on his cell, but I’d been unable to get through; all the circuits seemed to be busy.
Emily sat quietly in front of the altar, her head bowed in prayer. Her hair unruly and her mascara-clad eyelashes drooped—I didn’t want to interrupt her in case she experienced more visions that might be helpful to the situation. We depended on her psychic talents—now more than ever.
“Why doesn’t my dad answer?” I asked Christian for the hundredth time, feeling a little scared for Dad and Sophie and hoping they hadn’t gotten involved in one of the many car accidents.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” said Christian, doing his best to reassure me, “and your little sister, too. They’re probably at your house, wondering where you are.”
“Hello?” said a voice from the other end.
“Dad!” I breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God. Where are you?”
“I’m with Sophie, at the aquarium. We’re sort of stuck here because of the freaky weather. Where are you, Alice? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Dad. I’m with Christian,” I said. I didn’t want to tell him I was inside the church, because I knew that would make him wonder.
“Well, stay put. It’s dangerous to go out,” Dad said. “The entire bay and town is thick with it. There’ve already been a number of accidents around town.”
“Dad, you must listen to me. Don’t go home!”
“What?” he asked. “Why not?”
“Just don’t go home! Please stay where you are. It’s much safer at the aquarium,” I pleaded.
“What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense. What’s going on?”
“Listen, Dad, it’s really important that you don’t take Sophie home. Even if the fog clears, please stay where you are.”
Then, before he could continue arguing with me, the phone went dead.
“Dad? Dad!”
Quickly, I redialed the number, but the call wouldn’t go through. I prayed that he would listen to my advice and not go home. Henry had said that would be the first place O’Reilly and his men would search for me. I shuddered to think what would happen if they found Dad and Sophie at home.
I looked at Christian fearfully. “They can’t go home. They just can’t.”
Christian caressed my hair lightly. “Shh. Have you seen how thick the fog is? My bet is they’re not going anywhere for a while. Your dad’s a smart guy, and Sophie will be fine as long as she’s with him.”
I prayed that Christian was right, and a blanket of guilt swept over me. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t met Henry and hadn’t gotten involved with him, maybe things would be all right. And if there is a God, is He just punishing me? Can I even trust His protection in His supposed house? As I sat inside the church, I desperately wanted him to forgive me for being so angry and take care of my family and me.
Ghost Maven Page 20
