Haunting Blue

by R. J. Sullivan

  I rattled the moneybag at him. “You don’t get to call the shots anymore, Mister. Gunther’s out there, getting stronger by the minute. If this is what he really wants, then I’ll find a way to use it to stop him. Or die trying.”

  I strode toward the front door. Chip’s voice followed me, rising in pitch as I walked away from him. “He won’t let you live, no matter what you do.”

  Chip’s pleading voice rose. “Blue, he’ll kill you. Don’t go!”

  I ran out the door and into the cold night, following a distant laughter traveling on the wind from the direction of the amusement park.

  Chapter Thirty

  I ran through the sleeping neighborhood, my hiking boots pounding an uneven rhythm on the sidewalk. Damp denim hung over my aching shoulders, and before long, I gasped deep breaths of frigid night air.

  The wind blasted up, causing dry, crumbling leaves to billow up around me. I stopped to shield my face from cutting bits. The gust penetrated my jeans and pushed against the moneybag. My hand ached from the ongoing struggle to maintain my hold on the satchel.

  A sudden, vicious blast knocked me off the sidewalk, and I toppled onto someone’s lawn. As I fell, I heard a distant cackling.

  I hid my face until the sound passed. Sprawled on the grass, I looked up at the brick house in front of me and its immediate neighbor. I spied the narrow alley between the homes, and, beyond the yards, an open field of wild grass against the horizon.

  Cutting through the field would lop six blocks off the road route, plus lessen the wind.

  I hopped to my feet, sprinting across the yard and between the houses.

  The gust kicked up, again. I threw myself against the brick wall. Again, I could hear a stifled chuckle.

  I yelled into the air. “Having fun, you bastard?” Gunther may have had some sort of supernatural power over the weather, but that didn’t matter much between the houses. I took advantage of the respite to collect my wits.

  His voice reached me—more of a frustrated howling of the wind than spoken words. “You’ll pay in blood, Blue.”

  “I’ve got the money!” I yelled. “I’m bringing it back. What more do you want?”

  “You’ll return the money, regardless of any deal I might offer. I know you will. You’ll try to save the day and protect everyone. Better hurry, Blue. I’m getting bored. I might kill another one of your friends. How about that nice Mary Rowan or your buddy, Phil?”

  “Bullshit.” I called into the air. “I have what you want. No one else does. Stay with me, and we’ll finish this.”

  I raced out the alleyway and across the unfenced backyard, heading for the field beyond. I expected constant, blowing harassment, but to my surprise, the supernatural wind stopped pursuing me. Maybe Gunther’s finally tired of that game. Small blessing.

  I swung the moneybag low into the wall of tall grass, using it as a makeshift shield to bend the blades over while I pressed forward. The dried grass rose to my chest, crackling and falling as I plowed through it.

  The air erupted in evil laughter. “I’ll just go kill Phil, now. It won’t take but a minute. Hey, ‘Kill Phil’, that’s funny. I like that. Don’t you, Blue?”

  “No! No more killing.” I turned in a slow circle, watching the horizon for his distinct form. “I’ll ditch the money in the deepest lake around here. A place you can’t get to.”

  “So certain of yourself? I’m a god in this town, far more powerful than any bully or mugger you’ve fought in your miserable, pathetic existence. Not Clinty or your teachers or the Broad Ripple police. For years, my power has continued to grow, but only while the money stays lost, and the mystery remains. You’re trying to end that.”

  I mumbled under my breath. “Yeah, I get it.”

  I may be a slow learner, but I’ll find out how to play his game.

  A figure stood just beyond the clearing, atop a small mound leading to a backyard. The denim-jacketed apparition grinned at me.

  I stopped a couple feet away from him and stared, perplexed.

  Rather than the glowing spirit I’d seen earlier, this figure looked solid—real. “I feed off the paranoia of this town. You know something about paranoia, don’t you, Blue? Now, I grow stronger by the minute. The more you struggle, the stronger I become.” His head bent back as his cackle traveled on the wind.

  I knew better than to jump at him. “What do you want? If you want me to hide the money somewhere else, tell me. Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

  “Poor little fool. You really were just a pawn in Chip’s schemes weren’t you? Still, you know far too much. I can’t possibly let you live. So, if you really wish to appease me, lie down and take out your switchblade.”

  He stepped aside and waved his hook toward the grass. “Once you’ve done that, drive the knife through your own belly and across your chest. Then, we can both rest peacefully after I hide the money myself. Maybe.”

  I reeled at his casual request for me to kill myself. Though I had no intention of honoring it, I reached into my jacket pocket, trying to control my shaking hands.

  My hand brushed against the rusted pocketknife I’d found at the grave site. I drew the knife out of my pocket. My hand tingled, and I flicked copper-colored rust from my fingertips. No, I don’t want that one. I withdrew my hand, reached into my jeans pocket and drew out my switchblade.

  I held the moneybag out toward him. “So...if I...offer myself, you’ll leave the rest of my friends alone?”

  He reached for the bag. “You have my word.”

  I pulled it away from him. “Go fuck yourself. What good is your word?”

  He growled, jumping forward, and his hand gripped the moneybag.

  When I felt the tug, I swiped downward, slashing the switchblade against the tendons behind his knuckles.

  He howled in fury and pain, falling back.

  I lunged, swiping at his arm.

  I swept my arm through empty air. He’d gone ghostly, but that didn’t matter. I was merely feigning. I didn’t expect to connect, and when he lunged at me, I dodged out of his reach easily.

  He howled and cradled his wounded hand. Blood splattered onto crackling grass.

  At the sight of the blood, a snarling grin formed on my lips. “You’re the one who’s paying in blood, Gunther. You need to touch me to hurt me, and I bite back.” I moved around him and continued across the lawn. “You killed my mother, and that little scratch doesn’t begin to make up for it.”

  He winced. “You bitch.” Unable to cover the bleeding hand with his hook, he cradled it awkwardly under the opposite arm. Blood continued to flow from the cut.

  “That’s just the wind talking, Gunther, and the wind can’t really hurt me.”

  He grimaced at me. “Let’s see how badly you can hurt, Blue. I know what you fear.” He turned ethereal and faded away, a final cackle still vibrating over the air.

  Shit. The air calmed, no longer howling. Gunther had vanished, but had I weakened him first?

  From that scratch? It didn’t seem likely. I turned and bolted across the grass. The sooner I could get to the park, the sooner this madness would end.

  I ran to the next yard and rounded the corner to reach another alleyway. I crossed over two more streets and emerged, facing the west-side fence of the park.

  I darted across the street, and without slowing, hurled myself at the 15” fence. The metal rocked as I kicked into footholds and reached with one hand to pull myself up. For one crazy moment, I thought of pitching the moneybag up and over.

  No. Stupid idea.

  I crab-walked up the side, and then threw the moneybag over the top, holding onto the handle with one hand, and the fence with the other. I kicked my leg up, but not quite over.

  I paused, hanging onto the metal, trying to catch my breath. What I’d scaled so easily without the bulk of the money bag now proved a major challenge.

  I tried to throw my weight over to the other side, but I shifted awkwardly and—oh, hell!—all my weight ca
me down on my crotch, and I hung, straddling the fence.

  I tipped drunkenly, kicking and grimacing as the metal sharpness dug into my thigh.

  I screamed between my teeth and forced my leg to move up and over. The denim tore, along with a few inches of skin. I twisted and fell. Somehow, I managed to hold on with one arm, the other still gripping the bag. Weight, mass, and gravity conspired to drop me toward the earth.

  My fingers ignored my mental command to hang on, releasing their grip. I’d stopped my fall, but I dropped the final six feet or so.

  The moneybag hit the cement and my forearms hit the moneybag. Pain shot through my arms and into my shoulders. I slumped, unable to go any further.

  “Christ.” With all I’d been through tonight, I knew I’d show horrible black and blue marks in the morning...assuming I survived that long.

  As if on cue, the wind billowed up around me. “You’re too late, Blue.” The directionless voice called.

  I looked up the deserted pathway, seeing only the slightest stirring of the leaves. “What? What do you mean? If you killed anyone, I’ll—” I stopped, unable to finish. What can I do? I can’t hurt him. I just have to see this through.

  The wind blew a pile of leaves, which rustled over a nearby park bench. “Killed? Oh, no. At least, not yet.”

  A large, tower-shaped building lit up against the not-too-distant skyline. He’d powered up one of the rides.

  I limped along the pathway toward the structure, my arms still singing their chorus of pain. Other injuries added their accompaniment.

  After only two trips, my directional sense of the park layout remained rudimentary, but I didn’t think I was walking toward The Pirates of Perionne moat. “What are you up to, Gunther?”

  “Just making some plans, Blue. Oh, I see you noticed the lights, hmm? Another evil laugh. I guess I can’t fool you for long.”

  “Shut up and tell me what you’re doing.”

  “Just keep walking, bitch.”

  I realized where the path would take me, and I strode with growing confidence. Being one of the park’s most popular rides, the turnbuckle started several hundred yards from the structure.

  I stared at the sign over the wooden archway above me announcing the Whirlwind roller coaster. I could see the brightly lit entrance ahead, and in the distance between the trees, the wooden supports of the ride itself.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Get over here. Chip’s heroic old man called the cops. They’ll be here soon, and I need this lit building to guide them in the wrong direction. Now move your ass, girl.”

  I maneuvered through the metal brackets forming the line blockades. A couple of times, a turnbuckle refused to budge, and I jumped over the bar with growing impatience. My cut thigh and other bruises screamed in pain each time.

  I approached the wooden stairway, leading to the upper boarding level.

  Gunther stood on the attendant’s platform, arms folded with a grin on his face. Between us, one of the roller coasters crouched on the track like a sleeping dragon.

  I stepped up onto the illuminated, wooden-planked platform, my footsteps echoing hollowly. “What now, Gunther?”

  He held a finger out for silence. “Quiet.” A dramatic grin of grotesque glee cracked his face.

  “I thought you said we didn’t have a lot—”

  Then, I heard the sound of shoes on wood, climbing stairs on Gunther’s side of the coaster tracks. Behind him, I saw the silhouette of an awkward figure limping on a spiraling stairway, climbing upward.

  Chip shuffled into the light, and I bit back a gasp. His eyes lit up when he saw me. Then, he took in his surroundings, realizing he shared the small platform with the ghost, and that the track and coaster separated me from them. “What’s going on?”

  I resisted the urge to leap over the coaster and run to him. Gunther stood between us. He could strike long before I could maneuver my way around the coaster and get to Chip’s side.

  A mad chortle escaped Gunther’s lips. “I thought we should have a little reunion.”

  Chip’s gaze darted around, like a lion trapped in a cage, trying to escape.

  Then, his eyes focused on me. “Blue, I’m sorry. He told me he had you. He was going to kill you if I didn’t come.”

  “You took long enough with that bum leg, Chip!”

  I ignored the ghost, speaking directly to Chip. “He didn’t ‘have’ anyone. The bastard kept blocking my path and delaying me.” I glared at the grinning apparition. “I see why, but get out of here, Chip. Now. I’ll take care of this.”

  Chip shook his head. “No. You’re the one who should run away.” He directed his next statement to the ghost. “You don’t need to involve her, anymore. It’s me you want. You’ve hurt her enough.”

  “I’m not leaving,” I said. I knew Chip wouldn’t stand a chance alone against Gunther. “However this goes down, I’m not leaving you here.”

  Gunther cut off my protests. “How romantic. Each of you trying to make the ultimate sacrifice to save the other, trying to bargain with me, when you have nothing to bargain with.”

  Gripping the switchblade in my hand, I held the point out, centering on the apparition like an accusation. “I’ve got a deal for you, Gunther!” I spat out. “You hurt him, and I swear I’ll kill you and make sure this time you stay dead and in Hell!”

  Gunther’s gaze met mine, and to my surprise, he looked away. “I believe you. For now, I think I’ll hold on to my bargaining chip.” He assaulted my ears with more abrasive cackling. “Bargaining chip, that’s pretty good.”

  “Enough,” I said, waving the knife. “We want the same thing. You don’t need to hurt him. Either of us.”

  “Perhaps not. Still, I think I’ll keep him close.”

  Gunther stretched out his arms, in all ways resembling a zombie in a bad monster movie, stomping toward Chip and blocking the stairwell.

  My vision flared, and I lost all sense and cool. All I knew was that I had to get over to Chip. Now. “No. You can’t have him.”

  Dropping the bag, I dropped down into one the cars, and bounced out the other side. Swiping with the switchblade, I crossed the distance and forced myself between them.

  I stabbed at the hook. Metal clanged against metal, and Gunther’s body jerked sideways.

  I crouched, ready to attack, knife poised and ready. “You never learn, do you?” I taunted.

  Gunther took a step back, so I came forward. He swung with his hook, making an obvious slash at my face.

  Overconfident, I countered with the knife. With unexpected speed, his hand thrust forward, and vise-like fingers gripped my neck, cutting off my air.

  I gagged, dropping the knife and reaching up with both arms to loosen his grip.

  Too fast, the world blackened around me. I pulled at his thumb with all my remaining strength, but it gave only slightly. In a fuzzy haze, I could see him draw me close, grinning.

  My feet flopped against the floorboards in spasms. I need air!

  I heard Chip’s voice, and felt, rather than saw, a figure charge into us. The taught fingers slackened.

  My vision cleared, only to see Gunther slam the back of his hook across the side of Chip’s head and feel the fingers tighten around my throat again.

  Chip flew back, sprawling across the deck.

  I tried to push away a final time, but my legs refused to work. I reached up and dug my fingernails into his too-solid flesh. No air, and the world is fading away.

  Blackness enveloped me, and my body slumped. I no longer cared about my own imminent death.

  “I have a special death just for you, Blue.”

  Dimly, I felt Gunther picking me up and throwing me. I only distantly realized that I collided with wood and metal and bounced against a shallow wall.

  Nothing made sense. I flung my arms and legs around randomly, and kept hitting the walls of a wooden compartment—low and contained.

  Gasping precious air, my body surged with a renewed stren
gth and panic. I struggled into a sitting position, blinking through spotted blackness.

  He let me live, for the moment. If he gives me a few more seconds to clear my head, he’ll regret it.

  Chip’s panic-stricken voice reached me. “Blue! Get up!”

  I shook my head, trying to clear away the black spots. Reaching out, my fingers gripped a flat, flush surface above me. A seat. He’s thrown me into a coaster car.

  I grabbed the seat and pulled myself up on shaky legs. The seat shifted into blurry focus. Looking up, I saw Chip crawling across the platform toward me, arms outstretched; however, I didn’t see Gunther.

  A squeal of metal broke the quiet, and the coaster surged forward.

  The floor fell out from under me. I toppled sideways, tumbling across the tops of two cars.

  I pitched into the hollow of the car behind me, my feet raised and flailing through the air, unable to find purchase. As the car shifted around the first curve, I grabbed and twisted, trying to right myself.

  The car chugged over the tracks and into the darkness. No lights cut through the chilling black, only the sound of a high-pitched cackle.

  The wind blasted a fierce torrent.

  I grabbed the seat and forced my feet down where they belonged. Grabbing the front of the car for balance, I dragged myself to the edge. I braced my legs under me, pulling myself into a half-stand, preparing to hurl myself off.

  The coaster shifted into a sharp upward tilt, beginning its ascent for the big drop. Again, I tumbled across the cars, falling against wood, plastic, and wind. I reached out, gripped the seat, and held on with all of my strength to right myself into the car. The car tipped into a sharper angle, and my back wedged against the seat.

  Chug...Chug...Chug…

  The car slanted to a near vertical position, continuing its ascent.

  In a wild panic, I clawed the side of the car, pulling myself forward and staring out into the night.

  Chug...Chug...Chug…

  I saw the tops of the trees, and then I didn’t. I’d missed the moment between safe-to-jump and no longer safe.